**I don't own anything from Lord of the Rings, J. R.R. Tolkien, or any of
the poetry or poets referenced (such as John Keats)-all I own is Dascha,
Ivy, Geniveve and Christopher**
Leaf-Fringed Legend
By Leah Pensotti
"Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf -fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?"
-John Keats "Ode on a Grecian Urn"
Chapter One: Beneath the Tree
Geniveve fidgeted in her seat as Dascha hulked around the kitchen, clearly disgruntled. She lifted her head to glance at Dascha, turning her face away from the pile of books and study materials and tucked her ink-pen behind her ear and sighed.
"Dascha, would you please sit down? I already have a headache from studying; besides you're not going to achieve anything by pacing about the kitchen."
Dascha easily stood six feet tall and weighed at least two hundred pounds of pure muscle. Mr. And Mrs. Savitri, Geniveve's parents, thought that it would be good to house an international student after Christopher, Geniveve's older brother, moved into his own place to begin medical school.
Dascha had made progress with English; albeit still broken and laden with a thick Russian accent. Geniveve had learned much from Dascha about Russia and it's culture-but mostly she has learned about weight training. Dascha is a power lifter; surely to be bound for the Olympics in Athens.
While Geniveve is a little more soft and slight than Dascha physically; she had been eager to help tutor her with her English assignments. Seeing as though Geniveve was an English major-and extremely studious at that. When not at school, Geniveve worked at the local riding stables and at a small flower shop in town. When Geniveve had any time left over; Dascha repaid her for her tutoring by coordinating a training regimen just for her. It's like having a live-in personal trainer. However, Geniveve didn't like it at all, but she didn't want to hurt Dascha's feelings.
Dascha turned and sat; a frown etched upon her face, "Yes, Gen. But this book is-is.how do you say? Not easy."
Geniveve smiled reassuringly, "Yeah, Dascha; it's not exactly my cup of tea either. It is, however an important and monumental piece of literature. Ivy will be here soon-she lives for this stuff. Tolkien is her hero."
To look at Ivy O'Connor, one wouldn't think of her as being into reading- let alone into massive fantasy epics. Mostly she is seen as some punk kid or a recidivist. She had a bad attitude most of the time and sneered a lot; but she had been Geniveve's best friend since the second grade. Ivy was a tomboy covered in bruises and Geniveve was quiet and wore braces. All and all a very unlikely match.
Fourteen years later, Geniveve, Dascha, and Ivy all attend South Carolina University and will graduate within a year. Finals were two weeks away and Dascha had fallen far behind in her British Literature 250 class. So Geniveve and Ivy were enrolled to help; covering three or four chapters a night. Geniveve stood up and walked to the counter to pour herself another cup of hot tea.
"You want some tea, Dascha? It's full of anti-oxidants, at least that's what Christopher tells me."
Suddenly, Geniveve felt a presence in the doorway. She spun on her heel to find Ivy; completely drenched with rainwater and clad completely in black. Her dyed-black, short, bobbed hair dripped onto her face where her eyeliner began to run.
"Ivy! For crying out loud! Let me get you a towel. Take off your jacket so you won't catch your death."
Geniveve bustled out of the kitchen while buttoning her dark green, knee- length sweater over her dark blue jeans and black tank top. When she appeared again, Geniveve carried a towel and a black-hooded sweatshirt. She threw them both to Ivy, who had removed her jacket to reveal a blood red tank and leather cuff bracelets on each wrist.
Ivy looked to Geniveve, "Thanks Evie. The storm's rolling in. It's that time of year again."
Ivy toweled down her hair and wrapped herself in the sweatshirt. She sighed heavily, "Alright Dascha, it's time to exercise that brain of yours. Are you ready?"
"Nyet, Ivy. Is too hard for me."
Dascha shook her head, her light brown ponytail wagged behind her and her pale blue eyes drooped from lack of sleep.
Ivy rolled her eyes, "Come on. You can bench press Geniveve and me. Surely you can get this. It's a great story. You'll enjoy it more once you open up."
Geniveve sipped her tea thoughtfully and smoothed her dark blond hair away from her face; "It's not only the suspension of belief, Ivy. The story itself is complex with its own mythology and Tolkien created his own languages. Dascha is just hooking onto English; Elvish may throw her for a loop."
Dascha nodded in agreement, "Yes, this Elvis is not easy."
Geniveve smiled broadly and Ivy chuckled lightly. Ivy shook her dark, bobbed hair; still damp from the rain;
"We better get going. The weather's gonna get nasty and I've got to go to work in the morning. "
Ivy scooted her chair close to the table "So where were we last night in our discussion?"
Dascha and Geniveve looked at each other and Geniveve spoke up, "Uh, I think Weathertop-before Glorfindel comes."
Ivy smiled and began the run down of the chapter. Two hours later, they had advanced one chapter and the wind began to pick up outside and lightning flashed in marvelous silver streaks. Geniveve propped herself up on her elbows; her green-gray eyes fought off sleep while Dascha tried to grasp Ivy's excited chatter.
The back door slowly opened as Christopher walked in closing his rain- drenched umbrella. Geniveve sat up straight and welcomed her brother with a smile, "Hey Chris, what brings you around?"
Christopher ran a hand through his light brown hair and pulled a large canvas bag from behind and lifted it for her to see, "Laundry. Are the folks out?"
Geniveve nodded, "Yep. Gone until Monday. They went to visit Grandma in Virginia."
Christopher placed the bag on the floor and sat at the table next to Dascha, "Hey Dascha; Ivy. What are you ladies up to tonight?"
Geniveve looked at her best friend as she turned scarlet from the neck up. It was well known to most in the household that Ivy had a wicked crush on Christopher since she was nine years old. Well-known to everyone except Christopher, who seemed to treat Ivy like nothing more than his adopted little sister.
Geniveve sighed, "We're up to our necks in Tolkien. Dascha has to read "Lord of the Rings" for class. Ivy and I are attempting to help her wade through it."
Christopher smiled, "I read these books when I was fourteen. Didn't make much sense at the time but I liked it anyway. Especially when they hewed off orc heads."
Ivy smiled dreamily at Christopher, yet another trait that was unlike her. For most guys she acted aloof and too cool to care. A real ice-queen. But something about Christopher made her melt.
Christopher turned to her, "You okay Ivy? You look like you're dizzy."
Geniveve stifled a giggle and Dascha smiled. Ivy blushed again as Geniveve interjected, "I made some more hot tea Christopher. Do you fancy a cup?"
Christopher turned to his sister, "Yeah, Evie. That would be great. You know it's really bad out there, I may have to sleep on the couch."
Geniveve poured a cup of tea for her brother and sat down on the other side of him, "Alright, let's get this show on the road. Let's see, are we at Rivendell yet?"
Ivy eased up a bit and avoided eye contact with Christopher, "Not yet, almost. Frodo is on Asfaloth , running from the Wraiths."
Suddenly, a bright flash of lightening crashed into the elm tree next to the kitchen window. Geniveve, Ivy and Dascha jumped out of their seats and shrieked. Christopher rose and looked out the window then turned to signal them to run as a slow creaking grew louder and louder. The elm was collapsing upon them, glass broke and shattered, the roof caved in as Christopher grabbed Ivy and Geniveve and threw them to the floor, shielding their bodies with his own when all the lights at the Savitri home extinguished and the storm raged on.
Geniveve opened her eyes and inhaled deeply, sand flying into her lungs. She was on a beach. Was she dead? She turned sorely to find Dascha, Ivy and Christopher unconscious nearby. Her eyes fluttered with exhaustion and she heard footsteps nearby as a dark form lingered above her.
Geniveve managed to reach out her hand and rasp, "Help us."
A loud voice boomed above her, "Well, this is an odd find indeed. Of course these are odd times. We cannot leave them here to die; come Glorfindel and take the girl on the far right. My word, is that a woman? I have never seen one so strong. You had better get her and the man, Aragorn. I shall walk the semi-conscious. It seems the elves have their work cut out for them."
Geniveve felt herself being raised and her arm being slung around a neck surrounded by thick, long hair. Her imagination had betrayed her. She spoke aloud "A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination."
As Geniveve walked, the voice chuckled lightly; "Yes, I suppose that's true. You're quite a mystery, dear girl."
Geniveve awoke in a soft bed; covers pulled up to her chin. She wrestled a bit with the light, everything seemed so bright. She sat up and scanned the room, drenched completely in white and containing two beds beside her own. Dascha and Ivy were snuggled in them, and she sighed with relief but panicked when her brother was not there?"
"Where's Christopher? Is he alright?"
A sigh came from her left, and Geniveve turned to find an old man clothed in gray standing at the window. He turned and met her gaze squarely, a long pipe hanging from his jaw; "The boy is fine. He's resting in the room next door. What, may I ask, is your name?"
Geniveve sat up; eyebrows raised high, "I'm Geniveve Savitri. Where are we?"
The old man sat in a chair beside her bed; "Somehow, you and your companions found yourselves in Rivendell, in the house of Elrond."
Geniveve's mouth dropped, "I'm dead, aren't I?"
The old man chuckled warmly, "Not as far as I can tell. I am wondering how you all made it here, Lady Geniveve."
Geniveve ran a hand through her hair, "I'm not sure. We're we on a beach?"
He puffed from his pipe, "Yes, you were. And you gave quite an interesting riddle. We have all tried to figure it out all day. 'A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination.'"
Geniveve smiled, "It's Shakespeare."
The man looked confused, "Who?"
She smiled broadly, "From 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.' Shakespeare, you know about him right?"
He shook his head, "I fear not, lady. What else does he say?"
Geniveve wrinkled her brow, "Okay, here's the whole thing;
'Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact:-- One sees more devils than a vast hell can hold,-- That is the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination. That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!'"
The man nodded his head and looked thoughtful, "Hmm. So you find yourself with your imagination, do you?"
Geniveve nodded in return, "Yes. There is one way to find out if my imagination has run away with me. What, sir, is your name?"
The man answered, "My name is Gandalf."
Please, Read and Review. Dascha, Christopher, and Ivy awake and all meet the Hobbits, Aragorn and Elrond. I hope you enjoyed it!
Leaf-Fringed Legend
By Leah Pensotti
"Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf -fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?"
-John Keats "Ode on a Grecian Urn"
Chapter One: Beneath the Tree
Geniveve fidgeted in her seat as Dascha hulked around the kitchen, clearly disgruntled. She lifted her head to glance at Dascha, turning her face away from the pile of books and study materials and tucked her ink-pen behind her ear and sighed.
"Dascha, would you please sit down? I already have a headache from studying; besides you're not going to achieve anything by pacing about the kitchen."
Dascha easily stood six feet tall and weighed at least two hundred pounds of pure muscle. Mr. And Mrs. Savitri, Geniveve's parents, thought that it would be good to house an international student after Christopher, Geniveve's older brother, moved into his own place to begin medical school.
Dascha had made progress with English; albeit still broken and laden with a thick Russian accent. Geniveve had learned much from Dascha about Russia and it's culture-but mostly she has learned about weight training. Dascha is a power lifter; surely to be bound for the Olympics in Athens.
While Geniveve is a little more soft and slight than Dascha physically; she had been eager to help tutor her with her English assignments. Seeing as though Geniveve was an English major-and extremely studious at that. When not at school, Geniveve worked at the local riding stables and at a small flower shop in town. When Geniveve had any time left over; Dascha repaid her for her tutoring by coordinating a training regimen just for her. It's like having a live-in personal trainer. However, Geniveve didn't like it at all, but she didn't want to hurt Dascha's feelings.
Dascha turned and sat; a frown etched upon her face, "Yes, Gen. But this book is-is.how do you say? Not easy."
Geniveve smiled reassuringly, "Yeah, Dascha; it's not exactly my cup of tea either. It is, however an important and monumental piece of literature. Ivy will be here soon-she lives for this stuff. Tolkien is her hero."
To look at Ivy O'Connor, one wouldn't think of her as being into reading- let alone into massive fantasy epics. Mostly she is seen as some punk kid or a recidivist. She had a bad attitude most of the time and sneered a lot; but she had been Geniveve's best friend since the second grade. Ivy was a tomboy covered in bruises and Geniveve was quiet and wore braces. All and all a very unlikely match.
Fourteen years later, Geniveve, Dascha, and Ivy all attend South Carolina University and will graduate within a year. Finals were two weeks away and Dascha had fallen far behind in her British Literature 250 class. So Geniveve and Ivy were enrolled to help; covering three or four chapters a night. Geniveve stood up and walked to the counter to pour herself another cup of hot tea.
"You want some tea, Dascha? It's full of anti-oxidants, at least that's what Christopher tells me."
Suddenly, Geniveve felt a presence in the doorway. She spun on her heel to find Ivy; completely drenched with rainwater and clad completely in black. Her dyed-black, short, bobbed hair dripped onto her face where her eyeliner began to run.
"Ivy! For crying out loud! Let me get you a towel. Take off your jacket so you won't catch your death."
Geniveve bustled out of the kitchen while buttoning her dark green, knee- length sweater over her dark blue jeans and black tank top. When she appeared again, Geniveve carried a towel and a black-hooded sweatshirt. She threw them both to Ivy, who had removed her jacket to reveal a blood red tank and leather cuff bracelets on each wrist.
Ivy looked to Geniveve, "Thanks Evie. The storm's rolling in. It's that time of year again."
Ivy toweled down her hair and wrapped herself in the sweatshirt. She sighed heavily, "Alright Dascha, it's time to exercise that brain of yours. Are you ready?"
"Nyet, Ivy. Is too hard for me."
Dascha shook her head, her light brown ponytail wagged behind her and her pale blue eyes drooped from lack of sleep.
Ivy rolled her eyes, "Come on. You can bench press Geniveve and me. Surely you can get this. It's a great story. You'll enjoy it more once you open up."
Geniveve sipped her tea thoughtfully and smoothed her dark blond hair away from her face; "It's not only the suspension of belief, Ivy. The story itself is complex with its own mythology and Tolkien created his own languages. Dascha is just hooking onto English; Elvish may throw her for a loop."
Dascha nodded in agreement, "Yes, this Elvis is not easy."
Geniveve smiled broadly and Ivy chuckled lightly. Ivy shook her dark, bobbed hair; still damp from the rain;
"We better get going. The weather's gonna get nasty and I've got to go to work in the morning. "
Ivy scooted her chair close to the table "So where were we last night in our discussion?"
Dascha and Geniveve looked at each other and Geniveve spoke up, "Uh, I think Weathertop-before Glorfindel comes."
Ivy smiled and began the run down of the chapter. Two hours later, they had advanced one chapter and the wind began to pick up outside and lightning flashed in marvelous silver streaks. Geniveve propped herself up on her elbows; her green-gray eyes fought off sleep while Dascha tried to grasp Ivy's excited chatter.
The back door slowly opened as Christopher walked in closing his rain- drenched umbrella. Geniveve sat up straight and welcomed her brother with a smile, "Hey Chris, what brings you around?"
Christopher ran a hand through his light brown hair and pulled a large canvas bag from behind and lifted it for her to see, "Laundry. Are the folks out?"
Geniveve nodded, "Yep. Gone until Monday. They went to visit Grandma in Virginia."
Christopher placed the bag on the floor and sat at the table next to Dascha, "Hey Dascha; Ivy. What are you ladies up to tonight?"
Geniveve looked at her best friend as she turned scarlet from the neck up. It was well known to most in the household that Ivy had a wicked crush on Christopher since she was nine years old. Well-known to everyone except Christopher, who seemed to treat Ivy like nothing more than his adopted little sister.
Geniveve sighed, "We're up to our necks in Tolkien. Dascha has to read "Lord of the Rings" for class. Ivy and I are attempting to help her wade through it."
Christopher smiled, "I read these books when I was fourteen. Didn't make much sense at the time but I liked it anyway. Especially when they hewed off orc heads."
Ivy smiled dreamily at Christopher, yet another trait that was unlike her. For most guys she acted aloof and too cool to care. A real ice-queen. But something about Christopher made her melt.
Christopher turned to her, "You okay Ivy? You look like you're dizzy."
Geniveve stifled a giggle and Dascha smiled. Ivy blushed again as Geniveve interjected, "I made some more hot tea Christopher. Do you fancy a cup?"
Christopher turned to his sister, "Yeah, Evie. That would be great. You know it's really bad out there, I may have to sleep on the couch."
Geniveve poured a cup of tea for her brother and sat down on the other side of him, "Alright, let's get this show on the road. Let's see, are we at Rivendell yet?"
Ivy eased up a bit and avoided eye contact with Christopher, "Not yet, almost. Frodo is on Asfaloth , running from the Wraiths."
Suddenly, a bright flash of lightening crashed into the elm tree next to the kitchen window. Geniveve, Ivy and Dascha jumped out of their seats and shrieked. Christopher rose and looked out the window then turned to signal them to run as a slow creaking grew louder and louder. The elm was collapsing upon them, glass broke and shattered, the roof caved in as Christopher grabbed Ivy and Geniveve and threw them to the floor, shielding their bodies with his own when all the lights at the Savitri home extinguished and the storm raged on.
Geniveve opened her eyes and inhaled deeply, sand flying into her lungs. She was on a beach. Was she dead? She turned sorely to find Dascha, Ivy and Christopher unconscious nearby. Her eyes fluttered with exhaustion and she heard footsteps nearby as a dark form lingered above her.
Geniveve managed to reach out her hand and rasp, "Help us."
A loud voice boomed above her, "Well, this is an odd find indeed. Of course these are odd times. We cannot leave them here to die; come Glorfindel and take the girl on the far right. My word, is that a woman? I have never seen one so strong. You had better get her and the man, Aragorn. I shall walk the semi-conscious. It seems the elves have their work cut out for them."
Geniveve felt herself being raised and her arm being slung around a neck surrounded by thick, long hair. Her imagination had betrayed her. She spoke aloud "A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination."
As Geniveve walked, the voice chuckled lightly; "Yes, I suppose that's true. You're quite a mystery, dear girl."
Geniveve awoke in a soft bed; covers pulled up to her chin. She wrestled a bit with the light, everything seemed so bright. She sat up and scanned the room, drenched completely in white and containing two beds beside her own. Dascha and Ivy were snuggled in them, and she sighed with relief but panicked when her brother was not there?"
"Where's Christopher? Is he alright?"
A sigh came from her left, and Geniveve turned to find an old man clothed in gray standing at the window. He turned and met her gaze squarely, a long pipe hanging from his jaw; "The boy is fine. He's resting in the room next door. What, may I ask, is your name?"
Geniveve sat up; eyebrows raised high, "I'm Geniveve Savitri. Where are we?"
The old man sat in a chair beside her bed; "Somehow, you and your companions found yourselves in Rivendell, in the house of Elrond."
Geniveve's mouth dropped, "I'm dead, aren't I?"
The old man chuckled warmly, "Not as far as I can tell. I am wondering how you all made it here, Lady Geniveve."
Geniveve ran a hand through her hair, "I'm not sure. We're we on a beach?"
He puffed from his pipe, "Yes, you were. And you gave quite an interesting riddle. We have all tried to figure it out all day. 'A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination.'"
Geniveve smiled, "It's Shakespeare."
The man looked confused, "Who?"
She smiled broadly, "From 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.' Shakespeare, you know about him right?"
He shook his head, "I fear not, lady. What else does he say?"
Geniveve wrinkled her brow, "Okay, here's the whole thing;
'Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact:-- One sees more devils than a vast hell can hold,-- That is the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination. That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!'"
The man nodded his head and looked thoughtful, "Hmm. So you find yourself with your imagination, do you?"
Geniveve nodded in return, "Yes. There is one way to find out if my imagination has run away with me. What, sir, is your name?"
The man answered, "My name is Gandalf."
Please, Read and Review. Dascha, Christopher, and Ivy awake and all meet the Hobbits, Aragorn and Elrond. I hope you enjoyed it!