Disclaimer: Much as I would love to claim otherwise, I do not own Lord of
the Rings or any recognizable characters and/or places.
Thanks to Vix, Nightshade, Lauruu, Crystal, Lady Fae, Princess Calmea, and Lady Catrina for taking the time to review, I appreciate it!
Now, for those of you with individual concerns. . .
J: How about this: I shall try to update at least once a week until the story is finished.
Lady Tremere: Ah, yes. That sentence was (and this is going to sound really stupid_ more or less modeled after a line in the film 'Shakespeare in Love'; "such poetry as I never wrote". Thanks! (as for the "human" quality, my Elves always seem something less than ethereal. . .)
Meryl: To begin with, tobacco smoke closes my lungs up really bad. So thank you, I would rather not win any cigars. Of course I need work, I'm not published, I'm just a child trying to write. Needing work is never a bad thing. No one is perfect. My descriptions are like that because that is my style of writing. There was very little plot to that first chapter. What I try to do is begin with thick description, so the reader can really see it, then by the time the plot is flowing briskly, description has faded out, so that the reader has mental images already. Angels may not be called that in Middle-earth, but whenever there is a bird and a human, or an Elf, so there shall be an angel. Personally, I do not believe in any god or gods, therefore I believe angels a thing of human creation by nature, by a longing to fly and to believe that death is not the end. The longing to fly would surely exist in Middle-earth as it does here. If they do not use the word "angel", so what? She did not call it an angel, I did, and my purpose is to tell a story to you. Clearly you know what an angel is. Girls have Adam's Apples but they are not visible, and by over meant on top of the skin that covers it. The pendant was hanging on a type of necklace called a choker, which holds tightly to the neck and can stay upwards towards the throat. I did not tell anyone what to do, I made a request. And who am I to do this? I should think that human courtesy suggests helping those less fortunate than you, even if this means in skill or knowledge. Like you, I am human. As for your advice, well, if there were any not otherwise explained to take I might have.
*****
Mirnim was as unnoticeable as possible as she slipped away from the commotion of the outdoor pavilion. She tread slowly over a familiar path, taking measures to be quiet. Mirth made her giddy as she finally emerged onto the stage formed naturally of dirt and stone. Music wafted from the main party, but it was very quiet, so that chirping crickets were screams in comparison. The torches of the distance were but mere specks.
A full moon had risen this night, and reflected on the glassy surface of the lake. A glow was cast over nearly everything, soft but good enough for any Elf. No one else was anywhere in sight, but Mirnim knew the boys were here. After all, they had summoned her, had they not? She glanced around.
"A-ha!" she cried, reaching over a bush and pulling up a boy by his collar. "Pheraedion!" Mirnim cried gleefully, embracing him. Perhdaeion was born a gentleman, as his soft looks would imply; deep amber eyes and blonde curls that would not be tamed.
"So our Lady comes," teased a voice behind her. Vannaliath had the makings of a charmer, chiseled features and unusually muscular. However, he still thought of girls as "icky". Vannaliath was young, in maturity, for his age-- very young. When Mirnim turned, Mannólë stood grinning beside him. Mannólë was Vannaliath's brother, and the two shared their green eyes and golden- brown hair, however Mannólë was less defined, though not as soft looking as Perhaedion.
Without words it was said that only the four would be there, and they were a crowd enough. Although fights broke out within the group quite often, they always made up within a day. Their personalities fit together like a puzzle, and they could run and jump in the trees without any words, yet know exactly when the others would pause. A shared look could send them into peals of sidesplitting laughter.
Mirnim had turned back to Perhaedion to say something, when a slow tune started up behind her. "My Princess of the Heavens," Perhaedion said, bowing low to her. "May I have this dance?"
Mirnim rested her fingers lightly against his. "You may. It is my first."
"Oh, my Lady, it is mine as well."
The two chuckled as the dance proceeded, Minnólë continuing his fiddling, a mournful tune that was perfect for a slow dance, a warm-up dance. When the dance ended, Minnólë lowered the instrument from his chin. "Ready to speed things up a little?" he asked, handing the fiddle over to Vannaliath, who stubbornly refused to dance. Mirnim laughed as Perhaedion released her to Minnólë.
"This is a dance for lovers," he whispered in her ear, holding her arm up in the air as if to spin her. Mirnim could not help but giggle a bit as the quick-tempo-ed tune began.
"Minnó," she whispered, slightly worried, "I do not know this dance."
"That's all right, just do what the music tells you and follow my lead," Minnólë instructed. Mirnim loosed her muscles and readied them to follow his lead. Clearly having danced this way before, Minnólë twisted and spun his body and hers at once.
The music led them closer. Minnólë spun Mirnim in close, her body right up against his, his arm wrapped around her. "See? Is this not easy?" he whispered. She wanted to laugh, but was too taken by the music and by the dance.
When at last, after an eternity of perhaps six minutes, the tune broke, Mirnim stumbled over to the lake. She felt as though she had consumed one two many glasses of wine, although it had truly been but half a glass. A granite shelf jutted out over the water, and she fell to her knees upon it, balance gone.
At long last the world stopped spinning, and Mirnim peered over the rock into the water. The full moon reflected behind her, trees merging together in the inky blackness. A clear barrier existed between the trees and the sky. Separated from all this was a girl, tanned and bay-haired, a careless smile on her face. She was truly happy, and Mirnim realized that she was.
"My Lady," Perhaedion said elegantly, "may I escort you back to the dance?" He offered his elbow, and she took it.
"I would be delighted, my Lord."
As the hours spun on, between dancing, joking, and just general fun, euphoria did not for one moment leave the group. For all they knew, minutes, or perhaps mere seconds, had passed them by. Their merry-making continued on uninterrupted, as if some spell of magic protected them.
*****
Chapters may be short for a while, but they'll pick up as the plot develops more.
Thanks to Vix, Nightshade, Lauruu, Crystal, Lady Fae, Princess Calmea, and Lady Catrina for taking the time to review, I appreciate it!
Now, for those of you with individual concerns. . .
J: How about this: I shall try to update at least once a week until the story is finished.
Lady Tremere: Ah, yes. That sentence was (and this is going to sound really stupid_ more or less modeled after a line in the film 'Shakespeare in Love'; "such poetry as I never wrote". Thanks! (as for the "human" quality, my Elves always seem something less than ethereal. . .)
Meryl: To begin with, tobacco smoke closes my lungs up really bad. So thank you, I would rather not win any cigars. Of course I need work, I'm not published, I'm just a child trying to write. Needing work is never a bad thing. No one is perfect. My descriptions are like that because that is my style of writing. There was very little plot to that first chapter. What I try to do is begin with thick description, so the reader can really see it, then by the time the plot is flowing briskly, description has faded out, so that the reader has mental images already. Angels may not be called that in Middle-earth, but whenever there is a bird and a human, or an Elf, so there shall be an angel. Personally, I do not believe in any god or gods, therefore I believe angels a thing of human creation by nature, by a longing to fly and to believe that death is not the end. The longing to fly would surely exist in Middle-earth as it does here. If they do not use the word "angel", so what? She did not call it an angel, I did, and my purpose is to tell a story to you. Clearly you know what an angel is. Girls have Adam's Apples but they are not visible, and by over meant on top of the skin that covers it. The pendant was hanging on a type of necklace called a choker, which holds tightly to the neck and can stay upwards towards the throat. I did not tell anyone what to do, I made a request. And who am I to do this? I should think that human courtesy suggests helping those less fortunate than you, even if this means in skill or knowledge. Like you, I am human. As for your advice, well, if there were any not otherwise explained to take I might have.
*****
Mirnim was as unnoticeable as possible as she slipped away from the commotion of the outdoor pavilion. She tread slowly over a familiar path, taking measures to be quiet. Mirth made her giddy as she finally emerged onto the stage formed naturally of dirt and stone. Music wafted from the main party, but it was very quiet, so that chirping crickets were screams in comparison. The torches of the distance were but mere specks.
A full moon had risen this night, and reflected on the glassy surface of the lake. A glow was cast over nearly everything, soft but good enough for any Elf. No one else was anywhere in sight, but Mirnim knew the boys were here. After all, they had summoned her, had they not? She glanced around.
"A-ha!" she cried, reaching over a bush and pulling up a boy by his collar. "Pheraedion!" Mirnim cried gleefully, embracing him. Perhdaeion was born a gentleman, as his soft looks would imply; deep amber eyes and blonde curls that would not be tamed.
"So our Lady comes," teased a voice behind her. Vannaliath had the makings of a charmer, chiseled features and unusually muscular. However, he still thought of girls as "icky". Vannaliath was young, in maturity, for his age-- very young. When Mirnim turned, Mannólë stood grinning beside him. Mannólë was Vannaliath's brother, and the two shared their green eyes and golden- brown hair, however Mannólë was less defined, though not as soft looking as Perhaedion.
Without words it was said that only the four would be there, and they were a crowd enough. Although fights broke out within the group quite often, they always made up within a day. Their personalities fit together like a puzzle, and they could run and jump in the trees without any words, yet know exactly when the others would pause. A shared look could send them into peals of sidesplitting laughter.
Mirnim had turned back to Perhaedion to say something, when a slow tune started up behind her. "My Princess of the Heavens," Perhaedion said, bowing low to her. "May I have this dance?"
Mirnim rested her fingers lightly against his. "You may. It is my first."
"Oh, my Lady, it is mine as well."
The two chuckled as the dance proceeded, Minnólë continuing his fiddling, a mournful tune that was perfect for a slow dance, a warm-up dance. When the dance ended, Minnólë lowered the instrument from his chin. "Ready to speed things up a little?" he asked, handing the fiddle over to Vannaliath, who stubbornly refused to dance. Mirnim laughed as Perhaedion released her to Minnólë.
"This is a dance for lovers," he whispered in her ear, holding her arm up in the air as if to spin her. Mirnim could not help but giggle a bit as the quick-tempo-ed tune began.
"Minnó," she whispered, slightly worried, "I do not know this dance."
"That's all right, just do what the music tells you and follow my lead," Minnólë instructed. Mirnim loosed her muscles and readied them to follow his lead. Clearly having danced this way before, Minnólë twisted and spun his body and hers at once.
The music led them closer. Minnólë spun Mirnim in close, her body right up against his, his arm wrapped around her. "See? Is this not easy?" he whispered. She wanted to laugh, but was too taken by the music and by the dance.
When at last, after an eternity of perhaps six minutes, the tune broke, Mirnim stumbled over to the lake. She felt as though she had consumed one two many glasses of wine, although it had truly been but half a glass. A granite shelf jutted out over the water, and she fell to her knees upon it, balance gone.
At long last the world stopped spinning, and Mirnim peered over the rock into the water. The full moon reflected behind her, trees merging together in the inky blackness. A clear barrier existed between the trees and the sky. Separated from all this was a girl, tanned and bay-haired, a careless smile on her face. She was truly happy, and Mirnim realized that she was.
"My Lady," Perhaedion said elegantly, "may I escort you back to the dance?" He offered his elbow, and she took it.
"I would be delighted, my Lord."
As the hours spun on, between dancing, joking, and just general fun, euphoria did not for one moment leave the group. For all they knew, minutes, or perhaps mere seconds, had passed them by. Their merry-making continued on uninterrupted, as if some spell of magic protected them.
*****
Chapters may be short for a while, but they'll pick up as the plot develops more.