#16 Count Down

Three.

The small figure almost lost within the leaves of the tree measures the distance with his eyes and waits.

Two.

An arm pulls slowly back, the firm, rounded projectile clutched tightly within the fingers of its hand, taking careful aim.

One.

The arm flies forwards in a single fluid movement, releasing the projectile as the figure ducks down to hide within the branches one more.

There is a brief moment of anticipatory silence which is abruptly broken by a very loud, un-regal dwarven curse, followed by a swiftly muffled giggle from between the leaves above.

"Legolas!"

The king turns to peer up into the branches but sees nothing. The imp has flown. He bends to retrieve the small acorn that has recently made his acquaintance, turns it over in his hand then throws it up into the air before catching it neatly and placing it in his pocket. He is an elf.

He is patient.

He can wait…


A/N

Ok so I know it's short but at least I tried to lighten the mood this time. :)

Thanks for the feedback so far guys. It is very much appreciated.

Lord Illyren - Sorry the last one was so depressing. Hope this goes some way to making up for it ;). I have written a couple of original short stories before but most of my non fanfic related work is poetry of which I have had some actually published. :)