A/N: My name is WhiteAsh. I am 18 years old, I'm a girl, and I live in
Sudbury, Ontario, Canada, Earth. well, you get the picture, with my sister
Citti Monroe. This story is non-slash, non-Mary Sue *shudder. HATE Mary
Sue.. * And it is definitely not a bundle of swearing and baby-ish
blathering. No Legolas talking like a two-year-old, no Aragorn having
affairs with Eowyn, and definitely no Hobbit molestation! By the way. I
don't have a map of Middle Earth so can someone send me one? Thanks! My
email is whiteash_001@yahoo.ca. ALSO! Because I find it very annoying
that elves supposedly cannot feel the cold or the heat, I have changed them
slightly for my stories. Elrond does, after all, comment on Arwen's hands
being cold in The Return of The King. Just a heads up in case someone is
wondering about it.
Summary: Legolas invites his friends Taranthuille (an Elf who became a ranger and is considered. well. a ranger) and Ithillin (an Elf who was tortured and mutilated by Saruman and turned into an orc but was transformed back into his true self due to the kindness of Mithrandir) to his father's house to raid the wine cellar. Thranduil is extremely distressed upon finding his most perfectly aged wine to be half-empty, for he was saving it for a visitor. Legolas, Taranthuille, and Ithillin realize the visitor is none other than Celebrian. She has come back to middle earth to visit her husband but Thranduil ends up having to explain his son's foolishness. Legolas becomes terribly ashamed and tells his friends he is leaving Mirkwood.. But where will he go?
Disclaimer: I did not write The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring, The Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers, or The Lord of The Rings: The War of The Ring (which is the original title that Tolkien used instead of The Return of The King, which he thought ruined the whole book). I dedicate this story to the memory of Tolkien, who, against all odds, wrote an original story in a way no one ever thought possible and not only did he succeed, he became very much a wizard himself. I thank him, and all of you who continue to keep his memories alive. I also suggest that if you like Lord of The Rings, please also consider The Father Christmas Letters, which is a collection of letters from Father Christmas to the Tolkien children.
Legolas awoke that morning from a very peaceful sleep. He had dreamt of many things. Of colours, and of sounds. of birds singing, of the sound of children laughing. He smiled happily and sat up in bed. A songbird was perched in a tree by his window. It sang of the golden sunlight, which was shining down on the ground, bringing new life into bloom. Legolas watched as it sang a few more verses then flew cheerfully to another tree to begin its song again.
"It will sing that same song over and over again. and it will be a new song each time." Legolas said thoughtfully. "I suppose I should get up. Today seems too beautiful to let slip by like so many falling leaves."
Legolas rose from his bed and stood up in his room. He turned and gently replaced his covers to keep his bed orderly. Looking over to his armoire, he smiled at what he saw. A fox must have crept into his room and crawled up onto the chair by his desk. It was watching him with a bemused look on its pointy face.
"You are a clever little creature, my friend. I shall call you Pippin, after one of my beloved friends from long ago." Legolas smiled as he walked over to the fox. The fox, not caring much for Legolas, but getting aggravated by the elf's obsession with walking into the path of the sunbeam he was bathing in, hissed sharply in a small bark. Legolas gave a very small gasp and then realizing he was blocking the sunbeam, moved apologetically out of the way. The fox seemed happier about this and settled back down into a deep sleep, his legs curled under his soft body and his head resting on his tail.
Legolas removed his sleeping garments and placed them on his bed. He would wash them later in the day. He opened the armoire and after rummaging through it he settled on his old traveling garments. 'Today,' he thought. 'I shall need to be as capable as I can be. and ruining my robes wouldn't be the way to do that.'
After getting dressed, Legolas walked over to the mirror his father kept in the hall. It was fine silver, with mithrill beads carefully laced into the frame with gold. Legolas sighed. His father was never one to pass up on a good piece of jewelry. Legolas looked in shock at his hair, for he had thought he'd slept very peacefully, but upon seeing himself in the mirror he guffawed loudly. The left side of his head was matted terribly and most of his hair had gathered so much static electricity during the night it was waving about, trying to reach something that Legolas couldn't see. Chuckling, he walked down the hallway and to the front door.
Stepping outside onto the ground, he took a deep breath and winced, then closed one of his eyes slightly. His face took on a look of extreme discomfort and he wrinkled his nose and his brow. Finally, he let loose with a large sneeze. A few birds were startled and shuffled to different branches in the trees above him. Legolas rubbed his nose lightly then continued on to his favorite place in the forest. The tree. His tree. The tree his father had planted for him the day he was born. His father loved Legolas more than he loved anything else in the world. Even more, he often reminded visiting dwarves, then the mithrill he once sought so greedily.
"Ah, yes." Legolas said to himself with a feeling of immense joy. He remembered the day he returned to Mirkwood to tell his father about his many travels with his greatest friend, Gimli, who happened to be a dwarf. Thranduil became extremely ashamed upon realizing that Gimli's father was none other than Gloin, who had been among those dwarves he had locked in his dungeon all those years ago. Gimli had forgiven him easily enough, but told Thranduil that there would be very large consequences if it ever happened again. Since then, Thranduil had welcomed every dwarf who sought aid or friendship from the elves into his house. This was great for Legolas because he and Gimli were always together. Legolas often competed with Gimli in very hard tasks. Gimli was much fonder of the elven drink and of the songs that the Mirkwood elves sang.
Finally, Legolas arrived at the base of the tree. It was tall and strong. Legolas smiled proudly up into its foliage. It was the perfect place for a reunion with his old friends.
A/N: So! That's chapter one for you! How was it? Should I write more? Please read it and tell me what you think. I will except flames if they are of an intelligent audience and offer ways on which I might improve my story. I will not except flames that are hurtful to not only myself, but also my family, who support me in becoming a writer. Thank you all.
Summary: Legolas invites his friends Taranthuille (an Elf who became a ranger and is considered. well. a ranger) and Ithillin (an Elf who was tortured and mutilated by Saruman and turned into an orc but was transformed back into his true self due to the kindness of Mithrandir) to his father's house to raid the wine cellar. Thranduil is extremely distressed upon finding his most perfectly aged wine to be half-empty, for he was saving it for a visitor. Legolas, Taranthuille, and Ithillin realize the visitor is none other than Celebrian. She has come back to middle earth to visit her husband but Thranduil ends up having to explain his son's foolishness. Legolas becomes terribly ashamed and tells his friends he is leaving Mirkwood.. But where will he go?
Disclaimer: I did not write The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring, The Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers, or The Lord of The Rings: The War of The Ring (which is the original title that Tolkien used instead of The Return of The King, which he thought ruined the whole book). I dedicate this story to the memory of Tolkien, who, against all odds, wrote an original story in a way no one ever thought possible and not only did he succeed, he became very much a wizard himself. I thank him, and all of you who continue to keep his memories alive. I also suggest that if you like Lord of The Rings, please also consider The Father Christmas Letters, which is a collection of letters from Father Christmas to the Tolkien children.
Legolas awoke that morning from a very peaceful sleep. He had dreamt of many things. Of colours, and of sounds. of birds singing, of the sound of children laughing. He smiled happily and sat up in bed. A songbird was perched in a tree by his window. It sang of the golden sunlight, which was shining down on the ground, bringing new life into bloom. Legolas watched as it sang a few more verses then flew cheerfully to another tree to begin its song again.
"It will sing that same song over and over again. and it will be a new song each time." Legolas said thoughtfully. "I suppose I should get up. Today seems too beautiful to let slip by like so many falling leaves."
Legolas rose from his bed and stood up in his room. He turned and gently replaced his covers to keep his bed orderly. Looking over to his armoire, he smiled at what he saw. A fox must have crept into his room and crawled up onto the chair by his desk. It was watching him with a bemused look on its pointy face.
"You are a clever little creature, my friend. I shall call you Pippin, after one of my beloved friends from long ago." Legolas smiled as he walked over to the fox. The fox, not caring much for Legolas, but getting aggravated by the elf's obsession with walking into the path of the sunbeam he was bathing in, hissed sharply in a small bark. Legolas gave a very small gasp and then realizing he was blocking the sunbeam, moved apologetically out of the way. The fox seemed happier about this and settled back down into a deep sleep, his legs curled under his soft body and his head resting on his tail.
Legolas removed his sleeping garments and placed them on his bed. He would wash them later in the day. He opened the armoire and after rummaging through it he settled on his old traveling garments. 'Today,' he thought. 'I shall need to be as capable as I can be. and ruining my robes wouldn't be the way to do that.'
After getting dressed, Legolas walked over to the mirror his father kept in the hall. It was fine silver, with mithrill beads carefully laced into the frame with gold. Legolas sighed. His father was never one to pass up on a good piece of jewelry. Legolas looked in shock at his hair, for he had thought he'd slept very peacefully, but upon seeing himself in the mirror he guffawed loudly. The left side of his head was matted terribly and most of his hair had gathered so much static electricity during the night it was waving about, trying to reach something that Legolas couldn't see. Chuckling, he walked down the hallway and to the front door.
Stepping outside onto the ground, he took a deep breath and winced, then closed one of his eyes slightly. His face took on a look of extreme discomfort and he wrinkled his nose and his brow. Finally, he let loose with a large sneeze. A few birds were startled and shuffled to different branches in the trees above him. Legolas rubbed his nose lightly then continued on to his favorite place in the forest. The tree. His tree. The tree his father had planted for him the day he was born. His father loved Legolas more than he loved anything else in the world. Even more, he often reminded visiting dwarves, then the mithrill he once sought so greedily.
"Ah, yes." Legolas said to himself with a feeling of immense joy. He remembered the day he returned to Mirkwood to tell his father about his many travels with his greatest friend, Gimli, who happened to be a dwarf. Thranduil became extremely ashamed upon realizing that Gimli's father was none other than Gloin, who had been among those dwarves he had locked in his dungeon all those years ago. Gimli had forgiven him easily enough, but told Thranduil that there would be very large consequences if it ever happened again. Since then, Thranduil had welcomed every dwarf who sought aid or friendship from the elves into his house. This was great for Legolas because he and Gimli were always together. Legolas often competed with Gimli in very hard tasks. Gimli was much fonder of the elven drink and of the songs that the Mirkwood elves sang.
Finally, Legolas arrived at the base of the tree. It was tall and strong. Legolas smiled proudly up into its foliage. It was the perfect place for a reunion with his old friends.
A/N: So! That's chapter one for you! How was it? Should I write more? Please read it and tell me what you think. I will except flames if they are of an intelligent audience and offer ways on which I might improve my story. I will not except flames that are hurtful to not only myself, but also my family, who support me in becoming a writer. Thank you all.