The Representative Tributes/Tributes of District 1-12: UPDATED according to the last chapter's declared deaths!
District 1: Percy Jackson & the Olympians – Percy; Annabeth
District 2: Lorien Legacies – Maren (Six)
District 3: Mortal Instruments – Clary
District 4: Inheritance – Eragon; Arya
District 5: Lord of the Rings – Legolas
District 6: Divergent – Four
District 7: Twilight – Edward
District 8: Unfortunate Events – Violet
District 9: Harry Potter – Harry; Hermione
District 10: Maze Runner – Thomas; Teresa
District 11: Narnia – Peter; Susan
District 12: Hunger Games – Peeta; *Katniss
CHAPTER 6: Sponsors
Meggie 'Meg' Folchart from Inkheart
Her usual peacekeepers were guiding her through a hallway, heading to a place she wasn't aware of. She was already up in her dress with her hair tied up in multiple braids, coiled around her ears. Ahh, yes, sponsors. What on Panem was her involvement with sponsors?
"She jumped off…"
After that waterfall incident, Meggie's conscience was haunting her. Somehow, she was finding herself responsible for what had occurred to the hunter even though it wasn't really her fault. It was all Crane's idea in order to please the Capitol and the taste of President Snow.
What about Prim? Would she ever forgive her if indeed Katniss was dead? There had been no confirmation yet. The real tribute's tracker had remained undetectable. The gamemakers had been tracking the hunter all day but she had gone without a trace. The final decision wasn't still laid though.
Light.
And noise.
The opening of the massive door at the end of the hallway broke her thoughts to see the lighted room inside. There were numerous people inside, wearing the latest fashion of the Capitol which Meggie caught as vibrant but weird. Some were talking to each other. Their accent was high and pitchy. The others were merely handling wine glasses and eating colorful foods. Meggie couldn't determine if they were breads or some sort of muffins. But one thing was for certain, most of them were vomiting them out after taking them in to get more from the tray. 'Disgusting,' Meggie was displeased.
By the arrangement of the lights, flowers, curtains, and foods, the girl concluded, they were having a party. 'So that's it,' Meggie thought, 'the sponsors and…' she looked around her, '…mentors, escorts…" and officials and some important figures in the Capitol.
Knowing her entrance, they all looked at the Silvertongue with their painted eyelids, long eyelashes and thick make-ups. Next, altogether, they made a wide grin. Meggie found those smiles quite frightening. She was stunned for a moment, had no idea what to do. Shortly, from the crowd, a certain man appeared and went beside her. Of course, he was none other than Seneca Crane. He glared at her. "You know what to say and what to reply." His voice was low though he had stressed the words 'say' and 'reply'.
Crane put a hand on the girl's shoulder. His hand was cold against her. "Ladies and gentlemen, sponsors," Crane paused, "The Silvertongue. Meggie Folchart!" The crowd clapped and cheered. Others cried and also howled. Most of them, circled around her, to greet and shake her hand. They were so many, Meggie felt so small. Afterwards, they went back to their businesses. Only few people were left around her space.
Two men, wearing formal suits, stayed. "The Silvertongue," started the light-haired one. He was passed his middle age and quite a big man. His smile was wide and Meggie could say that his grin was fairly okay. "Heveansbee," he offered a handshake.
Meggie hesitantly accepted, "Folchart, sir."
"Young you are, Ms. Folchart." He released her hand. "How old are you?"
"Twelve," Meggie replied, plainly.
He nodded, satisfied, "Twelve? Your age is quite unexpected." He turned to the Head Gamemaker. "You're lucky enough you have discovered her the last minute, Crane. The tributes this year are weak."
"Yes, lucky," replied the Head Gamemaker.
"Unique and entertaining. Never seen such magic before," the other one added, sipping his wine after it. "And what do you call those creatures?"
"Yes, those creatures," entered the light-haired one, curious.
"Grievers, gentlemen," Crane immediately answered.
"Ahh, yes, that! And the water! Have you seen that demi…?"
"Demigod."
"Yes, and, oh… and also the fire! I'm telling you, they're fantastic!"
"Thank you," Crane slightly inclined his head and smiled, flattered. "I admit, this came rather unexpected but I'm glad I have caught your attention."
"Certainly, you have! We're expecting more in this game."
Crane sipped from his glass, then said, "There will be more," he paused. "There will be more to come."
Meggie mentally covered her ears. They were speaking as if they were talking about a simple game, commonly played in the fields.
"Silvertongue?" someone tapped Meggie from behind. She had no choice but to turn and let the men talk behind her. It was a dark skinned lady, wearing a neon yellow dress and glittering make up. "Silvertongue, right?" she asked again, smiling.
"Yes," she said, trying to be formal and polite as she could.
"You made those creatures in the arena, the grievers?"
"I read them."
"Oh!" her smile widened. "Magic. I love magic!" Meggie really hated the accent. "I really like those monsters," she clapped. "Do you know that you're making a name in the Capitol?" She appeared to be more exciting than the girl. Meggie shook her head. "You are! The grievers have gift items now and they're in demand! Really fast in the legal market, under the Silvertongue's name." The lady winked as she slightly tapped the girl's shoulder. However, Meggie couldn't imagine the gift items. "What else can you read?"
"Uhmmm…"
"Please!" the Capitol lady cut before she could even say a word. "Please, give us more terrifying ones than those magnificent creatures! Perhaps, something bigger!"
Meggie's brows knitted. That was enough! 'Does she have any idea on what she's asking about?' She was asking for a monster. The girl couldn't stop herself. Suddenly, she found herself yelling, "NO!"
Upon hearing her voice, the crowd turned to her. The lady was surprised by her reaction as well. Crane rapidly stepped beside the Silvertongue. He glared at her once again. Meggie looked back at Crane. She knew those eyes. She had her pride. Yes, she really had it highly but remembering her father's security at stake, she had to return her word and the ill-mannered way she had expressed it.
Meggie swallowed. "I-I am sorry. I was just…"
"You can't decide now, right? Maybe you're picking between something bigger and something wicker, hmm?" she smiled. Thankfully, the lady had interpreted her act positively. "It's okay. I trust you." At least, she was kind enough compared to the other raise-eyebrow Capitol citizens.
Meggie returned a smile. Afterwards, the crowd resumed to their activities and talks. She sighed.
"We'll talk about this…" Crane whispered before retuning to the men once again.
Once the lady and the others had gone out around her, Meggie sat on a red corner sofa and rested. Luckily, no one was noticing her anymore. Even Crane was too busy talking to a group of people.
Miserable, Meggie found her image on the table's reflecting glass in front of her. She realized that even though she had her light make-up on, her eyes were dull and dark as if she wasn't eating anything, worse than when she was still in the Seam. Well, after the deaths in the bloodbath, the execution of the real tributes, and the suicidal jump of Katniss – she couldn't have the perfect appetite. She found it impossible to eat.
"LET US FIGHT FOR OUR LIVES!" Meggie's attention was dragged to a single monitor. Some men in the room had gathered around it to watch the execution. They had probably missed the live broadcast.
On the screen, six blindfolded people were aligned. Their hands were tied, knees on the floor. Behind them were twelve peacekeepers in two rows, handling guns.
"LET US FIGHT!" a blond male among the six yelled. "YOU DON'T NEED THEM. YOU HAVE US – " The first lined man behind him shot his head. He immediately fell down to the ground. Dead. Then, the rest of the peacekeepers followed.
Cruel. Meggie gulped as he examined the people watching on the screen laughing. They were saying, "BORING!" And that was it. That was how they view deaths.
"What we want is this," a man entered from the crowd, interfering to their conversation. He was pointing to another monitor. The screen was showing the interview of the representative tributes the day before the actual game.
Caesar Flickerman was the host. On the seat beside him was a man with long blonde hair. He was seating there comfortably, examining the audience and the blue-haired host, steadily.
Meggie groaned upon remembering her upcoming interview with the same man the next day. She was scheduled to attend the mentioned show.
"How does it feel?" started Caesar. "How does it feel being not real in the real world?"
The fair-haired man immediately talked in, inclining his head, "What do you mean by not real?" His pointed ears became obvious.
Caesar thinned his lips, "Sometimes we have to accept the truth. We all know that you are not real. You're only book characters. Sad story, but that's the truth." He faced the audience. The audience nodded back, agreeing.
The elf smiled, "Oh, yes. But, I am certain that I am real, gohenon nin. As long as there is my book, as long as I believe in my world, I am real. Let me take this to another perspective." Caesar nodded and leaned forward to show that he was listening. "What if we switch situations? You in my world. Who is the real person between us?" The host shrugged. "I would rather say you're the unreal one and I am the contrary, given that you are in my world." Silence. Caesar was speechless. "That mindset drives us to fight, doesn't it? Being real in my own world? To return to a world where I can say I am real? In that case, I would rather believe that I am real…" He paused, eyeing the crowd calmly, "…so that I can fight tomorrow."
Ceasar remained staring at the blond. He was searching for words that could lift up the supposed to be entertainment show. The representative tribute's statement was quite alarming, quite offensive, in some ways. He was brave. He seemed like he knew what he was doing though.
"Uhmm…" Ceasar started. He was about to open his mouth when the audience stood up altogether and clapped. Standing ovation. The host was startled at first but then he recovered, immediately. "Fantastic! What an amazing faith you have, Legolas!" He cheered with them, only taken by the crowd. The elf smiled widely.
Meggie smiled as well. The representative tribute was obviously a rebel, and the capitol citizens were unwarily agreeing to him.
The girl would stay watching the interview when, all of a sudden, she heard the earsplitting crowd's cheer from the other side of the room. This time, it was different. The noise was louder than ever. They were all looking at the large and translucent screen. The monitor was showing an image of a woman in a dark place.
The hair, the eyebrows, the cheeks, the lips – recognizing the tribute, Meggie stood up and mentally celebrated, 'Katniss is alive!' Tears fell down and wet her cheeks but she abruptly wiped them off to avoid being suspicious.
The crowd's voices stormed out to every corner of the room. From the crowd, all mentors worked to grab some sponsors. Amongst them was a blond and tall man surrounded by numerous sponsors. He was unmistakably Haymitch Abernathy, talking with his convincing words and gestures. No wonder, his tribute had been miraculously discovered alive. Katniss had really caught most of the sponsors' attention.
Inspecting the man carefully from her seat, Meggie could never forget his face – that face which was always present in the reaping, drunk and out of his self, and the only living victor in her district. But most of all, she could never forget that man – that very same man they, she and his father, had encountered near the hob, only a few days after her father's recovery from his depression.
District 12 – Four years ago.
Meggie had never expected that Mo would rise up from his kitchen stool and continue their living. After her mother's sudden disappearance, Mo had been depressed all year. He had even come to a point where he had nearly slit his throat by a shred of a broken alcohol bottle. Luckily, Meg had happened to be there and stopped him in the process by crying and begging before him. After then, he had recovered and had started to craft the woods once again.
It was time to trade the products to the hob. The day was cloudy, as usual, and the sun wasn't there to greet them a good morning.
Mo and Meggie were about to enter the market when a man from afar called Mo, "Mortimer!"
Instinctively, the two turned to the source of the voice, halting just before the entrance. Haymitch Abernathy. Meggie wondered about the victor's presence outside his village.
Mo tensed up upon seeing Haymitch. He tugged Meggie to say, "Wait here," and then, he ran to the victor. They both walked out of sight.
Meggie was instructed to stay, yes, but bored and impatient as she was, she followed her father's track and found them talking behind an abandoned building. They were quite arguing. She even heard Mo shout, "NO! I CAN'T! I CAN'T GO BACK THERE! CAN'T YOU SEE?!"
"We can't stop, Mo."
"You don't have to – " They would continue their talk but Mo had already sensed Meggie. "MEG?!" Mo asked. His voice sounded annoyed. The girl couldn't determine if that was because of her or because of Haymitch.
Mo walked towards her. "Let's go." He held her by her arm, taking her away from the area back to the hob. They were leaving the victor.
"So, Mortimer?" Haymitch asked behind.
Mo ignored and completely left him, returning to the hob with Meggie.
"That's huge!" the District 12 victor shook the sponsor's hand. It seemed that Haymitch had already convinced the sponsor. The rest of the people around him clapped. He wasn't the only successful mentor though. There had been few others.
Meggie sighed and averted her eyes from them. 'A long night, it seems,' she thought.
Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games
Cold. She felt coldness running through her veins and yet she was burning. Fever – sure, it was a fever. At first, she was displeased but, realizing that getting sick was far better than being dead, she was more than grateful.
Katniss forced herself to open her eyes. She must know the reason behind her still existing life. She blinked several times and saw that she was in a dark place – in a cave, particularly. She could see the starry sky through the large hole on the rocky ceiling and around her was darkness. Her clothes were wet but it wasn't soaked with water anymore. They were starting to dry, at least.
Slowly, Katniss sat and tried to stand up but a jolt of pain ran through her leg. She gasped. Her right leg was numb and her left one was injured, probably bleeding. She screamed out loud, trying to move her left one but eventually stopped as a reflex when a hand touched her shoulder. She turned her head to see the person behind her and was surprised seeing a black-haired girl with a purple ribbon.
"Rest," the girl said with her calmly voice. "You're not well enough. You still have a fever though it is down for now." She was Violet Baudelaire. Katniss just looked at the girl, confused.
Violet continued, leaning her to the cave's wall cautiously, "You've convulsed, you know," she added, smiling to Katniss. "Your temperature was too high. I thought you were going to die that way…" She paused. "I've discovered you severely beside the river, if you want to know. You were unconscious and wounded then. I brought you here – my hiding place. Their eyes are not so here so you're safe for the mean time. Sooner or later, they'll find us."
'Their eyes?' Katniss thought. 'The gamemakers.'
"You know, the tributes are not the only enemies here," she added a smile. Violet was right. It was clear that the gamemakers were the ones who had casted out those slimy creatures and had led her to the Force.
Katniss remained silent, cannot find any sensible word to say. She recalled the recent events. Yes, she had managed to avoid the rocks and luckily had landed into a deep part of the water. She had never been that lucky before. And then, she remembered the baker and his group. 'Traitor!' she bit her lip, disgusted. Closing her eyes, she brushed those thoughts off and focused on her condition.
"Thank you…" Katniss managed to say at last. Violet smiled again and mouthed 'welcome'. The hunter gazed at her injured left leg. It was bleeding, yes, but it was covered with a makeshift bandage. She could see some green leaves, probably herbs, sticking out under the cloth. She turned to the girl, "You made this?"
Violet nodded, "I saw the leaves near here. I know that it can heal wounds…" she paused, "…Klaus had told me once about them. He is… He was…" she gulped and stopped, breathing in and out, squeezing her hands. She was composing herself, trying to stop the forming tears from the corner of her eyes. Then, she burst out, giving in, "Oh, dear God, I can't accept it!" Tears streamed down from the Baudelaire's eyes upon remembering her brother's death. "I'm s-sorry. I am…" she said, hiccupping while wiping her tears with her bare hands – wiping them out hard until her cheeks reddened.
Katniss reached for the girl even though she could sense out that Violet wasn't seeking for any comfort. She was a very strong girl indeed, trying to maintain her calmness.
The hunter offered her a hug. The girl accepted it, nonetheless. "Hush now…" she tried to calm her, rubbing her back. "Everything will be alright." She wasn't also convinced herself.
"Thanks," Violet said then suddenly laughed, but it was more of a hollow attempt. "I've never expected such care from a fellow competitor."
"Hmm?"
"You tried to calm me down."
"Well, you saved and took care of me."
"Fair enough." This time, Katniss laughed as well. "Nice pin," Violet commented upon seeing the mockingjay pin behind Katniss's collar. It was a gold pin in which a molded bird was in the middle of a ring.
"This?" Katniss pointed and unpinned the object. "This… This is like a token."
"It's well made. They look like the birds in the forest."
"Yes, they are. Mockingjays." Katniss rubbed the pin by her thumb, thinking while looking at the hole above. The sky was clear. It was peaceful, quite opposite to what was really happening under it. Just as then, a small silver parachute came into her view through the hole. The parachute landed in front of Katniss, carrying a circular flat container. It was obviously for her.
Katniss grabbed the container and saw a little message typed on a strip of paper. Apply generously and stay alive – H. It was Haymitch, her mentor.
"Sponsors…" Violet muttered.
It was her jump, probably – that fearless jump and being alive still. Katniss had never expected that the Capitol had taken that as braveness and not as foolishness. She sighed.
Violet helped her remove the cloth from her thigh. Her wound appeared a large gash of flesh. It wasn't deep enough but it had damaged an area. Katniss opened the container and applied the greasy substance inside it to her wound. The wound pricked at first but it immediately ceased. A kind of chill ran across the surface of her damaged flesh. Not a minute after, the area of the wound became numb, painless. Very effective it was but still, she was in fever. She needed to rest.
Perseus 'Percy' Jackson from Percy Jackson & the Olympians
It wasn't official but it seemed like Percy had already allied with the red-haired girl.
The demigod and the shadowhunter had settled somewhere behind thick and tall bushes, enough to cover their figures. Beside them was an ancient tree, helping them to settle at ease. They weren't talking to each other. The last time Percy had heard Clary speak was when she shouted 'RUN!' then, nothing more.
Clary was so depressed. She was silently crying for Jace even though her face was remaining as stoic as it had been in the first place. Her eyes were showing sadness and loneliness. And Percy? He wanted to comfort her, really. But, who was he to the shadowhunter and what was he going to say? He had no idea. So, he remained sitting there beside her and the tree, tearing some random leaves from the ground. That was his least favorite moment, the sickening silence.
Then, Clary hugged her jacket, closing the thick fabric to her, and slightly rocking her back against the bark of the tree. Finally, she was sensing the awkward silence. Of course, with that movement, Percy knew that Clary wanted something to converse to. As a guy, he must say something to her or even try to lift her emotional downfall. He tried to search for some sensible topic but he found himself in the middle of nothingness. By some means, he was panicking – madly panicking. 'C'mon Percy!' he mentally gritted his teeth, pushing his brain to work and quite wishing for Grover's presence.
"Uhmm…" Percy muttered, turning to her then, back to the torn grass on his hands. Clary tucked her hair behind her ear, waiting. Nothing. He had nothing to say. He gazed back at her and saw that she was looking at him now, probably waiting for his words. "Uhmm…" he felt his temples ache. Breathing deeply, he completely turned his body to face her and lifted his hand to offer a hand shake. Yes, they hadn't been formally introduced. Was there any use of it? For Percy, on that time, YES!
"Percy Jackson," he paused and added, "S-Son of Poseidon, a demigod, from the book of… well… self-titled."
Clary was stunned for a moment, she asked, "Really?" Percy shrugged. 'C'mon!' He was dying inside by his own attempt. She softly laughed, "Okay…" Smiling, she accepted his hand and shook it, "Clary Fray, a shadowhunter, from the book of…" she paused, "… Mortal Instruments they say." Percy thanked the three main gods for that start of conversation. "Well, that's something, Percy. Trying to break the ice, hmm?" she chuckled. Percy was very pleased seeing her laugh like that. "Was it hard?"
"Oh, that was awkward, just so you know. It wasn't that easy, honestly."
"I bet." Again, they fell silent. "Well?"
"Uhmm, Clary…"
"Hmm?"
"You know, I'm still open for alliance. I have just realized that working with you will do no harm against me." He caught her thinking. It was too difficult for her to ally with someone. She had to trust no one but in her case, she had to. Otherwise, she would not survive in three days.
"I'll accept that. Thank you," Clary finally said.
"Okay," he clapped once. "You're also welcome to leave this little alliance whenever you want. And…" he paused, thinking if he must utter it or not. He decided to say though, "…if you want someone to talk to, I… I'm also open." He was talking about Jace's death.
Clary stared at him for a moment. She nodded, "That's too kind for an enemy."
Percy smiled, happy that she had accepted him, "Enemy? I think that's not fitting my name. I'm quite a protagonist." The shadowhunter laughed. She was lightening up a bit and he was truly glad about it.
Percy was about to say something more when Clary stopped her by hand, "Percy, there's something coming." From the sky, through the crown of the ancient tree, a small parachute landed before them, carrying an aluminum container. They both examined it for a moment.
"It's for you, Percy," Clary said. The demigod took the container and found a small letter with it. Your water is fantastic! Stay alive. – C. Although Percy couldn't read the text, given that he was hard wired and had dyslexia, he could still bet that it had something to do with his performance. It came from his mentor – the mentor who he hadn't had a chance to know to, even a little.
Percy opened the vessel and found out that it contained a first class meal – the one which was served in Camp Half-Blood. His eyebrow rose. He knew that it would take an amount of money to deliver a gift to a representative tribute. No wonder, he had been chosen by the rich District 1 citizens.
Smiling, he offered the meal to Clary. The shadowhunter shook her head, "It's not for me. You've impressed the sponsors. I haven't."
"No," Percy insisted, "I want to share it with you. And besides, I think I won't have the appetite to eat if you're there beside me and I am here with a meal. After all, sharing is not a game violation." Clary thought for a moment and nodded in the end. Percy's dinner was far better than her bread inside her bag indeed. The demigod smiled once again. "It's good to know that you're talking to me now," Percy offered her the grape. She took it.
"You started it, remember?"
"Well, you signaled that you wanted to."
Clary chuckled, "It's hard to talk…"
"I know. Thish gahm," Percy paused, swallowing the flavored meat, "this game is making everything hard and complicated. Even talking and making friends are really hard to do."
Clary stopped, smile fading, "We can't be friends, Percy."
Percy shrugged, "Well, we can be good enemies." He added a cheeky smile.
The shadowhunter gave a single laugh, "I'll give that a chance."
"Great!" Percy's grin grew wider.
Clarissa 'Clary' Fray from The Mortal Instruments
"Great!" Percy's grin grew wider. Clary noticed that he was cuter when he does that. She was stunned for a second. The demigod said, "What's that? Is there…"
Startled, Clary blinked, "No! I was just…" Embarrassing. Suddenly, she wanted to disappear. Thank heavens, she found something quite interesting to cover her shameful thought behind the demigod himself! "It was just those lights behind you…" she pointed. "Are they fireflies?" Percy looked behind him.
"Wow!" Percy exclaimed. "I don't think so."
The lights had appeared from the greenery itself, blue and glowing-like insects. They scattered in the air, lightening their dimly night. Clary stared upon the demigod once again, watching him wonder by those little things. She uttered, "Thank you, by the way, for trying to lighten me up and for the food as well."
Percy turned to her, "No, it's nothing."
Peter Pevensie from The Chronicles of Narnia
"What its name again?" Peeta asked suddenly, talking to the Narnian.
Peter shifted his eyes from his sharpened sword to the baker. He wasn't hesitant to answer, "Rhindon. Rhindon is the sword's name." Somehow, Peeta had earned his little trust. His little accident that afternoon had helped Peter to be less cautious around him. They had been talking all night ever since.
"Nice sword," the baker commented.
"Yes, it is. This has never failed me in battles."
"Battles…?"
"Yes, battles of Narnia against other creatures – evils particularly – and sometimes, men as well."
"So, you've already slain men?" Petaa's eyes widened.
"I have to…" Peter wasn't pleased about his answer as well.
Enough to disturb their conversation, Annabeth moved from her sleeping position and settled to her right. The two blondes looked at her from their posted tree.
Peeta whispered, "She's half-asleep."
"Yes, she is. It's hard to take a nap in this game," the Narnian said in the same voice level, observing the other Force members. Thomas and Teresa were lying together with their back facing each other and weapons on hand. Four was leaning on a tree, arms crossed. Although his eyes were close, he was only resting.
The Dauntless was the only one who had been given by the sponsors just an hour ago. He had received some ointment and medicine. His wounds were already well bandaged and aided. It would never less his performance anymore.
"You know, speaking of Annabeth, I think she's a little bit kind…" Peeta commented, apparently remembering the comforting hand of the demigod and her attempt to save him during the griever attack.
"You think?" Peter raised an eyebrow. "Looks can be deceiving, Peeta. I've already proven that in Narnia. Even though she has that…" he paused, examining the woman, "…silky golden curls and gray pools and porcelain skin, she can't be trusted. She's smart, tricky, and dangerous, Peeta."
The real tribute chuckled, covering his mouth to contain the noise. He turned to the king, "You're the one who said that. Not me. But, I'll admit – she's beautiful."
Peter rolled his eyes, "C'mon, Peet! We're book characters! We're meant to please the eyes – well, the mind of the readers." Even from his own mouth, his words tasted so bitter. 'Book characters. Only book characters.' Peter sighed, "But I'm retelling this to you, baker, don't trust anybody – even me."
Peeta nodded, "I'll remember that."
Altering their subject, Peter started, "There are no deaths for tonight, Peet. Katniss must be alive, then." He waited for Peeta's reaction but none came. He was still playing that tough face. "You know, you don't have to show me that you're not worrying about her. You nearly died there on top of the fall, I know." The baker knitted his brows. Peter continued, "We are all worrying about our partners. Annabeth, too. And me, myself, as well for Susan. It's okay to worry."
"For Four, it is not fine," Peeta reasoned. "There's no reason for him to understand me anymore. He had already lost Beatrice."
Peter shrugged, "Yes, it seems but I am not Four. I am Peter," he paused and landed a hand on the tribute's shoulder, "the Magnificent." Peeta laughed shortly.
Legolas 'Greenleaf' from The Lord of the Rings
Lembas – G
'Ai, Valar!' He thanked the gods of Middle Earth that his mentor was smart and logical enough to deliver him a long lasting gift. He would no longer worry about the food even though an elf burns less energy. Still, an appetite was needed. He put the bread-like food inside his satchel and rested his back once again on the bark of the tree. He was settling on one of the branches. That was the safest place, he knew. No wonder, he was a wood elf.
The Sindarin elf gazed at the stars of the arena. The arrangement of the glittering objects was different from his home. "How does it feel being not real in the real world?" Saddened about the fact that he was just indeed a book character, he felt his brows meet. Bitter fact. Really, really bitter fact.
The game for Legolas wasn't really a problem. He was used to magic and also, killings. Likewise, he knew the meaning of wilderness even in its most evil presence. But something was preventing him to act for a while.
For the passed few days, Legolas had been contented watching the characters form their alliances and get troubled with their Containers given that he could do everything in the forest and remain undetected. He was light-footed indeed. He had even saved the real tribute and the elf from the other book.
Legolas had intended to miss the Loric's heart. The fire hadn't been a bother for him to shoot. He was always accurate. He had left the rest for the she-elf to decide and immediately had taken the path away from the area, unnoticed.
Somehow, deep inside, the prince of the Woodland Realm felt somewhat mislead from the right track. Whatever the problem he was sensing, he couldn't point it out. He breathed deeply. Peace – that was what he wanted.
Home is behind, the world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow, to the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow
Cloud and shade
All shall fade
All shall fade –
Legolas sang but was abruptly stopped when he heard another sound beside him. He turned to the source of the sound – a little bird with its slightly cocked head as if it was wondering about his presence, resting on a thin branch. Then, a second after, it hummed. The tune was exactly mimicked by the bird with its little voice.
Legolas smiled and reached for the little creature but the bird swiftly flew away from his hand and joined its flock, still singing his song. The flock circled above his tree and they all sang, making it louder than the first. His pleasantry was transformed to wariness. He might be spotted with that noise. Thankfully, just a minute of discomfort, the birds decided to fly to the other direction. They left his spot, completely.
The elf sighed and relaxed as he closed his eyes. Those birds were beautiful and, at the same time, odd. He realized that there were still good things in the arena. Not all misfortunes are wicked. There is always light from shadows and even hope from unbearable situations. Realizing this, his eyes snapped open.
Silence.
NOTES:
A walking song - not an elven song, first line uttered by Gandalf in the Hobbit movie.
Comments/reviews 'may' save the character.
The pairings aren't official. It doesn't mean that I wrote them together, I ship them forever. No. It can be yes or no or something in between. Just like what I've said, you can oppose or approve. It depends on my mood and on your suggestions/reviews.
