Walking down the familiar palace hallways, I came to a stop when I heard raised voices coming from the royal study. The thickness of the doors disappointed my sense of curiosity as I couldn't hear a single word; and I was not blessed with the gift of interpreting muffled voices. Taking a left, I continued my search for my friend until the slam of the study door being thrown open caused me to spin around in time to see him storm out of the study.
"Legolas!"
I cringed as his father yelled after him. Obviously the retreating elf had no intentions of stopping. But my search met an all too familiar bitter end, knowing that my princely friend would be in no mood to continue our day's plans….again.
'Oh, I'm sorry Victoria! I just had an issue come up and I don't feel like spending time with you; because I'm too busy putting my personal feelings before my friendships.'
If he sang that song to me again I swear I'll scream. No, I won't just scream, I'll abandon him for a couple of months and give him a taste of his own medicine. Good, I hope he barfs.
Deciding not to waste my time by chasing after him I went home instead. Following a small trail out of the city, I continued to walk through the dense forest, until I reached my families house. Sighing I opened the furnished door and dragged my disappointed self to my room.
"Victoria, is that you?"
"Unfortunately yes." I called back to my mom, before flopping onto my fluffy bed.
"I thought you were going to go riding with Legolas." A few pots and pans clattered from the kitchen.
"That's what I thought too!" I yelled. Flipping onto my back I hung my head over the side of the bed. "But apparently King Thranduil thinks it's more important to have horrible arguments with his son, than to give him a break and let him spend time with friends."
Walking into my room, mom leaned against the door frame. "I'm sorry sweetie." She said wiping her hands on a towel.
"Oh don't feel sorry for me!" I said sarcastically. "Feel sorry for the poor Elf who's probably alone in some tree wallowing in self pity."
I bet that's just what you're doing right now…isn't it? Well good! I hope you stay up in that tree until a bolt of lightning fries you to kingdom come, 'cause I've had it up to here! There's a storm coming, and you know what? You're going down…
"Why don't we have a cookie in the kitchen, and we can talk in there." Mom offered. She knew what was going on. She was always in on my issues, or at least the ones I told her about. Whenever I had a problem, mom was always the first one to know about it. Being an only child, I had lots of friends, but mom was my closest friend. Always was, and always would be.
"It's a shame we're not allowed to bring chocolate chips with us." I stated, dunking my could-be-better cookie into a glass of milk.
"Well, I suppose that would be a good rule to break on our next trip." Mom said over her shoulder while washing up a few dishes. She had never been one to follow ridiculous rules. Even rules that applied to us Travelers.
I sighed and sniffed, wiping a tear away. Mom dried off her hands and sat down next to me at the dining room table. "Do you need to cry again?" she said, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"Nope." I sniffled, continuing to swirl my cookie in the glass of milk. For some reason the dissolving cookie was memorizing to me.
It's a sign! Symbolizing my friendship with Legolas! It starts to break apart when you drown it in milk!
What the milk symbolized I had no idea.
At that moment, we heard the door open and the thump of heavy footsteps. "Catherine!" called a booming voice.
"In here Boz!" Mom called back.
And into the kitchen walked my dad. Who, I guess could be described as a 6'10" Viking without the beard or horned helmet, who in fact did have a huge axe he carried with him everywhere and featured a heavy British accent. I just thought of him as a Dwarf on steroids, though he resembled Ajax from the movie Troy more.
Upon seeing me in the kitchen with blood shot eyes and a tear streaked face Boz knew something was amiss.
"Wait a minute," He pointed a large finger at me and seemed to be configuring some mental equation. "I thought you were going to go ridin' with Legolas."
"Umm hmm." I whimpered.
Boz looked at me confused, then to my mother, before glancing back at me. "He didn't."
My dad finally understood why I was at home.
"He did." I piped up.
"No," he looked to my mom in disbelief, clenching his hands into fists.
My mom just nodded, stroking my hair.
"That does it!" My giant of a father un-slung the six foot axe from his back and stormed out of the kitchen. Mom and I looked at each other in shock.
My father had just broken the Eleventh Commandment: If thy name is Bosley Fitscharld, thou shall not unsheathe thy axe in thy wife's house unless ye wish to have the Angel of Death sent upon thee.
"Oh no, he did-n't!" Mom exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and running after her husband. Running as fast as her small feet would carry her; she skidded to a stop in front of him and crossed her arms. "Bosley, you put that thing away right now!"
"Catherine, there's 'lot of things in this world, and our world I'm a'right with, but our dau'ter be'in mistreated isn't one of 'em." He stated roughly, brandishing the double bladed axe.
Grabbing the middle of the axe's long handle, my tiny mother tried to pry it away from my dad. She looked like a tiny, angry Chiwawa going against a Great Dane over a chew toy.
"There are better ways to handle this situation!" She protested loudly, tugging harder at the axe.
Raising the axe up into the air, Boz lifted mom off the ground like a little kid, and brought her to eye level. I was suddenly thankful that I was tall, and not incredibly short like mom.
"You mean better ways besides cleavin' the Elf?" He asked in a low annoyed tone.
"Cleave him! I don't care!" I said from my seat in the living room. Secretly, watching my petite mother dangle from an axe she refused to let go of was quite amusing.
Just drop the axe, then when her fingers are stuck under it, run and beat up the Elf with your bare hands before she catches you. Simple enough… ready…go!
"There will be no cleaving in this house or outside of it!" Mom yelled, kicking her legs in mid air.
Knock, knock.
We all looked at the door. Dad looked at the small woman across from him. She glared back. I looked at the pair then at the front door.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Ok, you can scare him a little bit." Mom emphasized the word 'little', before letting go and dropping herself to the floor.
"Thank you!" Boz and I chorused.
Straightening himself up Boz marched over to the front door. Mom shifted uncomfortably beside me.
Knock, knock.
"It just makes me so edgy when he has that thing out."
"Understandable. The thing is taller than you." I said watching my dad open the front door.