A/N: Hi! This is my first ever LOTR fic. I absolutely LLLLOOOOOOOOVVVEEEE
LOTR and SMEAGOL RULES! Go Sméagol! Woo Hoo! I actually wrote this as a
"creative writing essay" for my English exam this year. Hee hee hee! Oh
the cleverness of me! You? Yes me! Excuse me! Well, I suppose you helped a
bit... (sorry thats from Peter Pan, which I just watched last weekend.) In
case you couldn't tell, I like death. A lot.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own LOTR, or any of the related trademarks and indicia. I'll come to terms with it sometime. However, I do own the plot, and Leggy's new personality! As well as the 25 cents I've got in my pocket. And the lip gloss I've got in my hand. And the computer I'm typing this on. And- sorry, I'm rambling here. I'll stop now, shall I? Yes, please do. All right then. Ack! Rambling again! Sorry! AAAAAAAHHHHH!!! (I have multiple personalities, and voices in my head. I'm odd that way. Remember, different is GOOD! Ack! Once again I am rambling! I'll just stop now and let you read the story. Or you could just skip the disclaimer. YA okee dokee just read the story before i kill myself rambling.) Ooh a fortune cookie. I ate the fortune. Wow. Thats very...um...odd.
So, without further ado, the story!
The Massacre of Mirkwood By hyper squirrel
Ah, Mirkwood. Lovely place, really. Or at least it was, back when it was called Greenwood. Before the shadow fell, and it became Mirkwood. Before the light disappeared, save for the Elven-lights. Before the giant spiders came.
Thranduil, Elven-King of Mirkwood, and his son, Legolas Greenleaf, were sitting in one of the upper halls of the palace in Mirkwood, eating breakfast one day in the year 120 of the Fourth Age of Gondor, when suddenly, one of Legolas' childhood friends, who had become a lookout on the eastern edge of Mirkwood, ran in, panting.
"King Thranduil, Prince Legolas," he said, bowing quickly. "Men are approaching!"
"Oh goody," said Legolas, grinning stupidly, his eyes crossed. "I wanted to see Aragorn again."
"But, see, that's just it, your Highness," gasped the lookout. "King Elessar is gone, crossed the bar, kicked the bucket, whatever you want to call it, but Eldarion blames YOU, your royal Highness!"
"We must fight!" said Thranduil.
"Fight? What's fight mean, daddy?" asked Legolas.
"It means to whack them with swords and shoot arrows at them," replied Thrandui. To the lookout he said, "Fetch the warriors and my weapons!"
"What about me, daddy?"
"I suppose you could fetch Leggy here a bow and a few arrows, and maybe a sword," said Thranduil, sighing.
The lookout bowed quickly, turned, and ran. Five minutes passed, during which Thranduil thought out battle strategies (very poor ones, might I say) and Legolas twiddled his thumbs, or at least tried to.
Finally the lookout returned, laden with weapons, which he gave to Thranduil and Legolas. Both Thranduil and the lookout had to help Legolas with them. Thranduil showed him how to shoot an arrow. Legolas shot one. There was a cry from behind him.
He'd been holding the bow backwards and had shot the lookout.
"Sorry, Bob," said Legolas, sounding very insincere.
"It's Joe," replied the lookout, before tipping backwards, his eyes glazed over.
"Well, so much for that one," said Thranduil, kicking the lookout's body to the side. "Now on to the battle!"
"What's a battle, daddy?" asked Legolas.
"It's where we fight," replied Thranduil.
"What's fight mean, daddy?"
Thranduil muttered a string of curse words in High-Elven.
"What's that mean, daddy?"
"Never mind. Lets go to battle."
"What's battle, daddy?"
"You're hopeless, you know that?"
"Hopeless? What's hopeless, daddy?"
Clang! Whoosh! Men and Elves alike were falling over dead. Finally, only two Elves were left- Legolas and Thranduil. One of the men ran his sword through Thranduil.
"Daddy! Daddy!" cried Legolas, running out from behind the trees where he had been hiding.
The men decided to watch, as this could prove entertaining. Legolas ran to his father's side.
"Daddy, daddy, speak to me! Daddy!" wailed Legolas, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Thranduil opened his eyes. "Leggy you idiot! This is all your fault!" His eyes closed, his breathing slowed, then finally stopped.
"NOOOOOOO!" howled Legolas. He was cut off mid-howl by a sword being run through his back. He toppled over.
King Eldarion of Gondor removed his sword. He turned to face his remaining men. "Our work here is done. Now, who's up for ice cream?"
"Yay!" yelled all the men.
They all went for ice cream, and Mirkwood lies empty to this day.
THE END
A/N: so, how'd u like it? If you're into Harry Potter, or even if you aren't but have read the books, then read my other fic, Crazy Retarded Harry Stories. It's funny...but beware the m word... they lurk in the most ordinary places, where you wouldn't expect to see them... like pantries... (not pantys please keep a clean mind) but ya anyways...drink Nestea and take the plunge! Are you with Nestea?? Well , unofficially. Is anyone else home? Yes, say hi to Sam! (hyper squirrel runs away being chased by a short fat hobbit named Sam)
Well, you know the drill, R&R. And remember, with my stories,
FLAMES ARE ALWAYS WELCOME!!!
(bet you don't see that everyday, huh?)
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own LOTR, or any of the related trademarks and indicia. I'll come to terms with it sometime. However, I do own the plot, and Leggy's new personality! As well as the 25 cents I've got in my pocket. And the lip gloss I've got in my hand. And the computer I'm typing this on. And- sorry, I'm rambling here. I'll stop now, shall I? Yes, please do. All right then. Ack! Rambling again! Sorry! AAAAAAAHHHHH!!! (I have multiple personalities, and voices in my head. I'm odd that way. Remember, different is GOOD! Ack! Once again I am rambling! I'll just stop now and let you read the story. Or you could just skip the disclaimer. YA okee dokee just read the story before i kill myself rambling.) Ooh a fortune cookie. I ate the fortune. Wow. Thats very...um...odd.
So, without further ado, the story!
The Massacre of Mirkwood By hyper squirrel
Ah, Mirkwood. Lovely place, really. Or at least it was, back when it was called Greenwood. Before the shadow fell, and it became Mirkwood. Before the light disappeared, save for the Elven-lights. Before the giant spiders came.
Thranduil, Elven-King of Mirkwood, and his son, Legolas Greenleaf, were sitting in one of the upper halls of the palace in Mirkwood, eating breakfast one day in the year 120 of the Fourth Age of Gondor, when suddenly, one of Legolas' childhood friends, who had become a lookout on the eastern edge of Mirkwood, ran in, panting.
"King Thranduil, Prince Legolas," he said, bowing quickly. "Men are approaching!"
"Oh goody," said Legolas, grinning stupidly, his eyes crossed. "I wanted to see Aragorn again."
"But, see, that's just it, your Highness," gasped the lookout. "King Elessar is gone, crossed the bar, kicked the bucket, whatever you want to call it, but Eldarion blames YOU, your royal Highness!"
"We must fight!" said Thranduil.
"Fight? What's fight mean, daddy?" asked Legolas.
"It means to whack them with swords and shoot arrows at them," replied Thrandui. To the lookout he said, "Fetch the warriors and my weapons!"
"What about me, daddy?"
"I suppose you could fetch Leggy here a bow and a few arrows, and maybe a sword," said Thranduil, sighing.
The lookout bowed quickly, turned, and ran. Five minutes passed, during which Thranduil thought out battle strategies (very poor ones, might I say) and Legolas twiddled his thumbs, or at least tried to.
Finally the lookout returned, laden with weapons, which he gave to Thranduil and Legolas. Both Thranduil and the lookout had to help Legolas with them. Thranduil showed him how to shoot an arrow. Legolas shot one. There was a cry from behind him.
He'd been holding the bow backwards and had shot the lookout.
"Sorry, Bob," said Legolas, sounding very insincere.
"It's Joe," replied the lookout, before tipping backwards, his eyes glazed over.
"Well, so much for that one," said Thranduil, kicking the lookout's body to the side. "Now on to the battle!"
"What's a battle, daddy?" asked Legolas.
"It's where we fight," replied Thranduil.
"What's fight mean, daddy?"
Thranduil muttered a string of curse words in High-Elven.
"What's that mean, daddy?"
"Never mind. Lets go to battle."
"What's battle, daddy?"
"You're hopeless, you know that?"
"Hopeless? What's hopeless, daddy?"
Clang! Whoosh! Men and Elves alike were falling over dead. Finally, only two Elves were left- Legolas and Thranduil. One of the men ran his sword through Thranduil.
"Daddy! Daddy!" cried Legolas, running out from behind the trees where he had been hiding.
The men decided to watch, as this could prove entertaining. Legolas ran to his father's side.
"Daddy, daddy, speak to me! Daddy!" wailed Legolas, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Thranduil opened his eyes. "Leggy you idiot! This is all your fault!" His eyes closed, his breathing slowed, then finally stopped.
"NOOOOOOO!" howled Legolas. He was cut off mid-howl by a sword being run through his back. He toppled over.
King Eldarion of Gondor removed his sword. He turned to face his remaining men. "Our work here is done. Now, who's up for ice cream?"
"Yay!" yelled all the men.
They all went for ice cream, and Mirkwood lies empty to this day.
THE END
A/N: so, how'd u like it? If you're into Harry Potter, or even if you aren't but have read the books, then read my other fic, Crazy Retarded Harry Stories. It's funny...but beware the m word... they lurk in the most ordinary places, where you wouldn't expect to see them... like pantries... (not pantys please keep a clean mind) but ya anyways...drink Nestea and take the plunge! Are you with Nestea?? Well , unofficially. Is anyone else home? Yes, say hi to Sam! (hyper squirrel runs away being chased by a short fat hobbit named Sam)
Well, you know the drill, R&R. And remember, with my stories,
FLAMES ARE ALWAYS WELCOME!!!
(bet you don't see that everyday, huh?)
