Hello all. Thankee very muchly for al thy great reviews. Hehehehe. In a
strange mood, can you tell? Well it's 8:25 and I'm at school, and I am
writing this, as is apparent.
And Jane, I cannot tell you what happens 'cause that would spoil the fun. smiling vindictively and I don't really know. And Mary-Jane is perfect for a reason: that is, SHE IS A MARY-SUE dammit. And she annoys me too if it's any consolation. And I am updating soon, LilOne, I am updating now, as a matter of fact. And MidnightsFairy, why would I beat myself up about a legomance? But thank you for your concern, 'tis appreciated. Oh, and by the bye, I am NOT the character Mary-Jane, in case you want to know. Mary- Jane and I are good friends, though her perfect-ness annoys me greatly, but she is not, even by the loosest description, me. And Europa, don't knock my expression. My English teachers do that enough. And would you run if you were a bunny trapped in a refrigerator? I am sure the bunny would not enjoy living in a refrigerator, and so therefore would run quickly from it at the first possible moment. Do you like my reasoning? Ok, perhaps a little strange, but verified all the same. I know I'm responding to pretty old reviews, but keh sheh meh. And Mary-Jane is NOT blonde, not naturally anyway.
Thanks to Jess for the wonderful name. Just read, you'll understand.
I'll start the chapter soon...
.maybe.
hehe...
suspence..
or just stupidity...
.I'm thinking perhaps the latter.
yeah...ok.this is boring now.
Hmmmm
Chapter 4:
She stumbled suddenly into a clearing, the great river which she had seen before on the other side of the clearing. A man with dark hair, deep almost black eyes and rugged appearance glanced interestedly at her, before jumping up in reaction, drawing his sword at the same time.
Movement to her left caught her attention. She glanced around, only to see a small man jump up, wielding an axe. Three smaller men in shorts jumped up, expressions of confusion and terror marking their faces.
'She is a friend,' the blonde stranger explained, apparently amused by the reactions of these people.
The man paused, considering then relaxed, not trusting the man's reassurance enough to put down his sword. The small men to Mary-Jane's left eyed her with suspicion, but did not attack her, which was better than she had hoped for. The atmosphere was tense and suspicious, like a hair stretched taught between the circle of people.
The blonde man was suddenly distracted again by apparent noise behind him.
'Hlasta!' he whispered.
The tall man, apparently understanding his fair tongue finished looking suspiciously at Mary-Jane and stared intently in the direction to which the blonde man was staring, his face the picture of concern.
'Orcs? On this shore?' He asked, while Mary-Jane tried to grasp what the hell they were going on about.
'I believe so, and not far from this place,' the blonde man replied.
'Where is Frodo?' The other questioned urgently.
'And Boromir?' asked one of the small men to Mary-Jane's left.
They all picked up weapons at once, Mary-Jane stiffened, as though expecting an attack. They ran from the clearing without a second glance at Mary-Jane. She relaxed, at least they weren't blaming her for the disappearance of their friends.
The blonde stranger was the only one left in the clearing with Mary-Jane. He was examining a sword, plain but of indescribable grace and beauty.
'You may need this,' he explained, handing over the sword.
Mary-Jane looked down at the sword being offered to her, an overwhelming sense of fear threatening to take over her mind. She took the sword mutely, not able to find the words stuck in her throat. In her hands it looked dull and awkward. She lifted it awkwardly, examining it in the light. She looked up at his face, only to see him looking down at her with an expression of sarcastic amusement. She looked deep into his eyes, trying to find a meaning to all the riddles that had been flying around. She didn't understand this place. Nothing was constant to that of her world, nothing was similar, yet everything was similar in a kind of dissimilar way. She recognised things that she knew, but on closer inspection they were not quite the same. It was quite unnerving for Mary- Jane. And now this stranger had given her a sword. A weapon used in ages past, something rarely known of where she came from. Her feeling of anxiety was increasing. She was feeling increasingly unsafe in the hands of this stranger.
The stranger, sensing the chaos in her mind, tried to reassure her: 'do not trouble yourself, for though we are all in deadly peril, I promise you that in my keep no harm will come to you.'
She looked into his eyes and saw the depth of his promise.
'I don't even know your name,' she said weakly.
'So you don't. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood.'
Nearly all of this went straight over Mar-Jane's head, as she looked dazed at him, listening to the beautiful melodious voice. All she comprehended was that he had a beautiful name, Legolas, what a stunning name, it suited him, and he was a prince of some kind. She didn't know how to react to that. She awoke from her dream to see that he was looking down at her expectantly. She wondered how long she had been staring dumbly at him.
'I'm.I'm,' she stammered, searching around for an impressive name like his, 'Namigaal'.
'Namigaal,' he rolled the name around his perfectly proportioned mouth. It sounded melodious and rhythmical in his accents.
She looked down, hoping her eyes would not betray her lie.
He was distracted once more. His keen eyes seeing what she could not, hearing what she was deaf to.
'Come,' he spoke, unslinging his bow.
She followed, carrying the sword awkwardly in one hand. It was heavier than it looked, she didn't know how Legolas had handled it so easily. She only hoped she didn't trip and fall onto the sword and skewer herself. That would not be pleasant, and not make a good impression.
Then she heard it, faint at first, but growing steadily louder, louder and louder still. The pounding of a thousand feet on the soft forest floor. A thousand feet running in the same direction. A thousand feet with purpose. A thousand feet marching to war. The fear that dwelled in her heart came to settle in her stomach, like a sickening, squirming, angry, worm trapped in a matchbox.
A/N: in true Mary-Sue fashion, more nothing has happened in this chapter. Nothing happened in the last chapter either. Hmmmm. I should try to remedy that. Oh well. I will promise that stuff does happen soon (like Boromir dying YAY). And Shiv, I put the worm in this chapter instead of next, apologies to any worm lovers. That's all Folks.
New chapter coming soon. But I've started work on a new fic, and I'm all involved and am really enjoying writing it. So the chapter might take a while, depends on how mush of the other one I write. But ONE MORE WEEK OF SCHOOL and then I'm free, so plenty of writing to come.
And Jane, I cannot tell you what happens 'cause that would spoil the fun. smiling vindictively and I don't really know. And Mary-Jane is perfect for a reason: that is, SHE IS A MARY-SUE dammit. And she annoys me too if it's any consolation. And I am updating soon, LilOne, I am updating now, as a matter of fact. And MidnightsFairy, why would I beat myself up about a legomance? But thank you for your concern, 'tis appreciated. Oh, and by the bye, I am NOT the character Mary-Jane, in case you want to know. Mary- Jane and I are good friends, though her perfect-ness annoys me greatly, but she is not, even by the loosest description, me. And Europa, don't knock my expression. My English teachers do that enough. And would you run if you were a bunny trapped in a refrigerator? I am sure the bunny would not enjoy living in a refrigerator, and so therefore would run quickly from it at the first possible moment. Do you like my reasoning? Ok, perhaps a little strange, but verified all the same. I know I'm responding to pretty old reviews, but keh sheh meh. And Mary-Jane is NOT blonde, not naturally anyway.
Thanks to Jess for the wonderful name. Just read, you'll understand.
I'll start the chapter soon...
.maybe.
hehe...
suspence..
or just stupidity...
.I'm thinking perhaps the latter.
yeah...ok.this is boring now.
Hmmmm
Chapter 4:
She stumbled suddenly into a clearing, the great river which she had seen before on the other side of the clearing. A man with dark hair, deep almost black eyes and rugged appearance glanced interestedly at her, before jumping up in reaction, drawing his sword at the same time.
Movement to her left caught her attention. She glanced around, only to see a small man jump up, wielding an axe. Three smaller men in shorts jumped up, expressions of confusion and terror marking their faces.
'She is a friend,' the blonde stranger explained, apparently amused by the reactions of these people.
The man paused, considering then relaxed, not trusting the man's reassurance enough to put down his sword. The small men to Mary-Jane's left eyed her with suspicion, but did not attack her, which was better than she had hoped for. The atmosphere was tense and suspicious, like a hair stretched taught between the circle of people.
The blonde man was suddenly distracted again by apparent noise behind him.
'Hlasta!' he whispered.
The tall man, apparently understanding his fair tongue finished looking suspiciously at Mary-Jane and stared intently in the direction to which the blonde man was staring, his face the picture of concern.
'Orcs? On this shore?' He asked, while Mary-Jane tried to grasp what the hell they were going on about.
'I believe so, and not far from this place,' the blonde man replied.
'Where is Frodo?' The other questioned urgently.
'And Boromir?' asked one of the small men to Mary-Jane's left.
They all picked up weapons at once, Mary-Jane stiffened, as though expecting an attack. They ran from the clearing without a second glance at Mary-Jane. She relaxed, at least they weren't blaming her for the disappearance of their friends.
The blonde stranger was the only one left in the clearing with Mary-Jane. He was examining a sword, plain but of indescribable grace and beauty.
'You may need this,' he explained, handing over the sword.
Mary-Jane looked down at the sword being offered to her, an overwhelming sense of fear threatening to take over her mind. She took the sword mutely, not able to find the words stuck in her throat. In her hands it looked dull and awkward. She lifted it awkwardly, examining it in the light. She looked up at his face, only to see him looking down at her with an expression of sarcastic amusement. She looked deep into his eyes, trying to find a meaning to all the riddles that had been flying around. She didn't understand this place. Nothing was constant to that of her world, nothing was similar, yet everything was similar in a kind of dissimilar way. She recognised things that she knew, but on closer inspection they were not quite the same. It was quite unnerving for Mary- Jane. And now this stranger had given her a sword. A weapon used in ages past, something rarely known of where she came from. Her feeling of anxiety was increasing. She was feeling increasingly unsafe in the hands of this stranger.
The stranger, sensing the chaos in her mind, tried to reassure her: 'do not trouble yourself, for though we are all in deadly peril, I promise you that in my keep no harm will come to you.'
She looked into his eyes and saw the depth of his promise.
'I don't even know your name,' she said weakly.
'So you don't. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood.'
Nearly all of this went straight over Mar-Jane's head, as she looked dazed at him, listening to the beautiful melodious voice. All she comprehended was that he had a beautiful name, Legolas, what a stunning name, it suited him, and he was a prince of some kind. She didn't know how to react to that. She awoke from her dream to see that he was looking down at her expectantly. She wondered how long she had been staring dumbly at him.
'I'm.I'm,' she stammered, searching around for an impressive name like his, 'Namigaal'.
'Namigaal,' he rolled the name around his perfectly proportioned mouth. It sounded melodious and rhythmical in his accents.
She looked down, hoping her eyes would not betray her lie.
He was distracted once more. His keen eyes seeing what she could not, hearing what she was deaf to.
'Come,' he spoke, unslinging his bow.
She followed, carrying the sword awkwardly in one hand. It was heavier than it looked, she didn't know how Legolas had handled it so easily. She only hoped she didn't trip and fall onto the sword and skewer herself. That would not be pleasant, and not make a good impression.
Then she heard it, faint at first, but growing steadily louder, louder and louder still. The pounding of a thousand feet on the soft forest floor. A thousand feet running in the same direction. A thousand feet with purpose. A thousand feet marching to war. The fear that dwelled in her heart came to settle in her stomach, like a sickening, squirming, angry, worm trapped in a matchbox.
A/N: in true Mary-Sue fashion, more nothing has happened in this chapter. Nothing happened in the last chapter either. Hmmmm. I should try to remedy that. Oh well. I will promise that stuff does happen soon (like Boromir dying YAY). And Shiv, I put the worm in this chapter instead of next, apologies to any worm lovers. That's all Folks.
New chapter coming soon. But I've started work on a new fic, and I'm all involved and am really enjoying writing it. So the chapter might take a while, depends on how mush of the other one I write. But ONE MORE WEEK OF SCHOOL and then I'm free, so plenty of writing to come.