"Ow!" The little house elf yelped as he banged down onto hard stone - where
there had been a soft chair just a second ago. Rubbing his elbow, he sat
up slowly. The walls were stone - smooth stone, with no cracks, and no
corners. "Dobby is in a cave. Dobby has touched a portkey. Dobby not
supposed to have a portkey. Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!" After smacking his
head down on the stone floor several times, he became aware of a pair of
big eyes staring at him from inside the darkness deeper within the cave.
THUMP! CRASH!
"Whats it? Whats is that noise? Whats disturbs Smeogol's cave?" Stone suspended in his hand, ready to rip open the fish, he paused and looked around. He heard scruffles and mutters coming around the bend. He creeped around the turn in the cave, staring out at a creature hitting his head upon the floor in a rather peculiar manner. A creature that looked more like Smeagol than any other he'd ever come across.
Staring back, Dobby backed up slowly. "Hello? Who are you?"
As the big eyes came forward slowly, evolving into a creature almost like himself - only without the ears and the way of walking - Dobby rephrased his question. "What are you?"
"Smeagol. I is Smeagol. A. A. I once was a hobbit. Whats is you? Whos is you?" As he spoke, the. once-hobbit pulled himself forward, until he was almost close enough to touch. Reaching out a hand, he realized it still had the fish in it. Smiling, he looked at it. "You wants a fish? Nice fresh fish? I caughts it with my own hands!" Looking gleefully on the hobbit, he offered it to him.
Looking at the fish being held out, Dobby stared. People didn't just *give* things to Dobby, except for the magnificent Harry Potter - but Harry Potter was to be adored like none other. "Surely you wouldn't offer something to Dobby! Thank you! Where's your fire? I'll cook it up right good! Do you have any spices?" Getting excited now that he was in his element once again, Dobby remembered the questions asked of him. "I'm a house-elf. My name is Dobby."
"Cooks it? You wants to cooks it? Why you want to cooks it? Its is good!" Smeagol looked confusedly on the. house-elf. People were always wanting to cooks things.
"Cooking is what you do to food." Dobby trailed off. He'd never met someone who didn't want his food cooked. Suddenly he got an idea. "Do you have more fish? I can cook that, and you can have your fish. raw."
"Mores fish? We cans catch it! Right outside - is stream. Lots of fish - big, fresh fishies!"
"Okay!"
So together, they went outside and caught some fish for dinner - Dobby's cooked, Smeagol's raw, as they liked it. And they sat together long into the night, sharing stories of their lands.
A/N: Do you like it? Should that be the end or TBC? Please review! I want to thank all of you who reviewed my first attempt at this story - It's what convinced me to finally write more! If people review and want more, I promise I'll be quicker to update it from now on. Thanks! And read my other stories at fictionpress.net and tell me what you think!
THUMP! CRASH!
"Whats it? Whats is that noise? Whats disturbs Smeogol's cave?" Stone suspended in his hand, ready to rip open the fish, he paused and looked around. He heard scruffles and mutters coming around the bend. He creeped around the turn in the cave, staring out at a creature hitting his head upon the floor in a rather peculiar manner. A creature that looked more like Smeagol than any other he'd ever come across.
Staring back, Dobby backed up slowly. "Hello? Who are you?"
As the big eyes came forward slowly, evolving into a creature almost like himself - only without the ears and the way of walking - Dobby rephrased his question. "What are you?"
"Smeagol. I is Smeagol. A. A. I once was a hobbit. Whats is you? Whos is you?" As he spoke, the. once-hobbit pulled himself forward, until he was almost close enough to touch. Reaching out a hand, he realized it still had the fish in it. Smiling, he looked at it. "You wants a fish? Nice fresh fish? I caughts it with my own hands!" Looking gleefully on the hobbit, he offered it to him.
Looking at the fish being held out, Dobby stared. People didn't just *give* things to Dobby, except for the magnificent Harry Potter - but Harry Potter was to be adored like none other. "Surely you wouldn't offer something to Dobby! Thank you! Where's your fire? I'll cook it up right good! Do you have any spices?" Getting excited now that he was in his element once again, Dobby remembered the questions asked of him. "I'm a house-elf. My name is Dobby."
"Cooks it? You wants to cooks it? Why you want to cooks it? Its is good!" Smeagol looked confusedly on the. house-elf. People were always wanting to cooks things.
"Cooking is what you do to food." Dobby trailed off. He'd never met someone who didn't want his food cooked. Suddenly he got an idea. "Do you have more fish? I can cook that, and you can have your fish. raw."
"Mores fish? We cans catch it! Right outside - is stream. Lots of fish - big, fresh fishies!"
"Okay!"
So together, they went outside and caught some fish for dinner - Dobby's cooked, Smeagol's raw, as they liked it. And they sat together long into the night, sharing stories of their lands.
A/N: Do you like it? Should that be the end or TBC? Please review! I want to thank all of you who reviewed my first attempt at this story - It's what convinced me to finally write more! If people review and want more, I promise I'll be quicker to update it from now on. Thanks! And read my other stories at fictionpress.net and tell me what you think!
