Disclaimer: Enya is nice......
A/N: My boys are looking at me strangely right now.I'm listening to Enya which is a change from my usual hard rock.uh oh.I think I'm being commited to a mental institution as we speak. Better right this chapter quick, eh?
Time: Just Like Milk
Mordil snorted when a young man strolled into the room. He had finally found some sleep and then this man had to awake him and Rachel. How inconsiderate.probably not even a decent rider either. "Where is Rachel?" he asked, looking around the room with relaxed urgency. Mordil stood and nodded his head toward his sleeping master. She shouldn't be woken, but it seemed as though her eyes were already wide open. Mordil sighed with agitation.that was the fourth time in three hours someone had made so much noise and Rachel needed her rest. Mordil needed his rest! For Lawks sake! "Are you Rachel?" the man asked when he went to the elf's side. She rolled her eyes with irritation, but decided now wasn't the time to be soft. She sat up in bed and muttered to herself. "Must I always be?" she whispered. Her hair fell in tangled locks to her face. The ward was dark any how, but Faramir could see that his brother wasn't lying when describing her appearance. Very beautiful, but strict in her ways. Already, she was blocking out the pain of an aching head. Her eyes were somewhat cold.like storm clouds. Just as Boromir had said. "You are then! My name is Faramir, but from what I've been told, you already know my kinship. I'm glad to see you and so will my brother and his fiance, Holly!" Faramir said. He sat in a chair beside her and looked at her strangely. She seemed to be thinking really hard about something. Helm's Deep wasn't far ahead of Rachel's companions. They would fight fiercely and win, but she just hoped that the trilogy held up its end of the bargain. Hopefully, her friends would survive. "What the.?! Elven ears?! You are an elf?!" Faramir said, noticing the point protrude from Rachle's hair. She stared at him with groggy eyes.confused, almost. Shaking her head, which made it worse, the elf gulped. "Yeah.um, I'm an elf." "No wonder Boromir said you were the elven prince's!" Faramir exclaimed. Rachel gawked at him. Elven prince? Who?.foggy.thoughts.who was a prince? "Legolas was his name, correct?" Rachel lifted a finger in protest, but let it drop dumbly to her side. He was a prince. That had completely escaped her mind. Oi. A prince who rode horses like no other and had skills and more than enough stamina.Rachel was turning red. Thoughts like that had never crossed her mind before.maybe it was an elf thing.Faramir raised his eyebrow and looked at her with knowing eyes and his arms crossed. He almost had that fatherly look on his face meant for when a teenaged girl was telling him about her first date in highschool. "Some strong ale to help the migrane," Rachel said, making excuses for herself. He cocked his head to the side. Migrane? Those were.what? Forget about the dazed look on the woman's face. What was a migrane? Faramir loved learning new things. He was very curious. "Nevermind.I'll get it myself," she said quietly. Vaguely, Rachel recalled the pub across the main street. The beer there was more than satisfactory for numbing a blow to the cranium. That was something Rachel loved about Middle-earth. It was one thing.but not the only thing. "Let me attend to you," Faramir said speeding out the door. He ran to the pub, sheltering his head and walked in, greeting the bartender earnestly. "Wha'd'ya need?" he asked, cleaning a mug. Faramir looked at the selection and pointed to a bottle of sweet ale. "That' s not gonna work, Faramir," Rachel said from behind. He nearly jumped and turned to her. Amazing.she was knocked out cold not more than two hours ago! How could she stand doing this all the time? During war, yes, but when she was safe behind a city's walls? Why not let others tend to her? "Why not?" he asked, holding the bottle out in front of him. "Too weak. Hey, tender.you got any guiness Stout?" she said, sitting at the bar head. Stout was very strong liquor (A/N: emphasis on very) and most of the men in hearing range nodded in approval and astonishment. They made way for her at the counter and Faramir stood behind her, handing the sweet ale bottle to a passer-by. "Yeah.it'll cost yeh. It's the best stuff I got," the bartender said to her reaching for a small mug behind her. Rachel shook her head and pointed to the bottle. "I'll take it all. I hope this is good enough," she said, throwing a solid silver star on the counter. The men around her snorted and laughed at the payment. Even Faramir laughed. "What's this?" the tender asked, laughing. "Pure silver.a weapon if you'd rather. I have more than enough to spare one," she told him. The put it under his teeth and bit down. It held up and he handed her the bottle. "That's more than enough to pay fer that there bottle. You want anythin' else, ma'am? That is, if yeh can still after drinking that," the tender asked her. Rachel growled.the noise in the pub was almost unbearable and a need to be drunk was in her highest demands. She popped the top with a swiss army knife and downed a quarter of a bottle. The pipe that was in the bartender's mouth fell tot he floor. "That's quite a swig you got there lady! You'd run me up!" he bellowed. Rachel glugged the rest of the bottle and threw it behind her, making a scrunched face. The look immediately went away. "Damn!" the elf said to herself. Faramir looked at her with amazement. "What?" "I forgot." "What?!" "I'm Irish.I can't get drunk." "What?!!" "Maybe that's why I don't drink." Rachel thanked the guy behind the counter and walked back to the door. Faramir was close by, ogling in her wake. He followed her back to the infirmerary and sat down in his chair while she counted her remaining stars. She only had twetny four left. When they had started, she had fifty. Damn. "Well?" Faramir asked. She wasn't even dazed. "There' sgood news and bad news," Rachel told him, not removing her eyes from the silver hand razors strewn on her bed. "Yes?" She sighed and looked at him. "Bad news. I have a little over half of my stars left." "What are stars?" Rachel got up and Mordil did too. He knew she'd be alright now. Her condition had improved dramatically. She began putting his saddle back on and strapping her weapons on. She had to find a stables somewhere. Oh wait.Faramir would, of course, know where the stables were.duh, Rachel. Faramir decided the woman wasn't going to say anything about her "stars." The younger of Denethor's sons shook his head. "And the good news is?" "My headache's gone."
A/N: snoozin'.waitin' for the "men in white" to pick me up. Um.is it a bad thing that my XO is walking towards me slowly with a tranquilizer gun?
A/N: My boys are looking at me strangely right now.I'm listening to Enya which is a change from my usual hard rock.uh oh.I think I'm being commited to a mental institution as we speak. Better right this chapter quick, eh?
Time: Just Like Milk
Mordil snorted when a young man strolled into the room. He had finally found some sleep and then this man had to awake him and Rachel. How inconsiderate.probably not even a decent rider either. "Where is Rachel?" he asked, looking around the room with relaxed urgency. Mordil stood and nodded his head toward his sleeping master. She shouldn't be woken, but it seemed as though her eyes were already wide open. Mordil sighed with agitation.that was the fourth time in three hours someone had made so much noise and Rachel needed her rest. Mordil needed his rest! For Lawks sake! "Are you Rachel?" the man asked when he went to the elf's side. She rolled her eyes with irritation, but decided now wasn't the time to be soft. She sat up in bed and muttered to herself. "Must I always be?" she whispered. Her hair fell in tangled locks to her face. The ward was dark any how, but Faramir could see that his brother wasn't lying when describing her appearance. Very beautiful, but strict in her ways. Already, she was blocking out the pain of an aching head. Her eyes were somewhat cold.like storm clouds. Just as Boromir had said. "You are then! My name is Faramir, but from what I've been told, you already know my kinship. I'm glad to see you and so will my brother and his fiance, Holly!" Faramir said. He sat in a chair beside her and looked at her strangely. She seemed to be thinking really hard about something. Helm's Deep wasn't far ahead of Rachel's companions. They would fight fiercely and win, but she just hoped that the trilogy held up its end of the bargain. Hopefully, her friends would survive. "What the.?! Elven ears?! You are an elf?!" Faramir said, noticing the point protrude from Rachle's hair. She stared at him with groggy eyes.confused, almost. Shaking her head, which made it worse, the elf gulped. "Yeah.um, I'm an elf." "No wonder Boromir said you were the elven prince's!" Faramir exclaimed. Rachel gawked at him. Elven prince? Who?.foggy.thoughts.who was a prince? "Legolas was his name, correct?" Rachel lifted a finger in protest, but let it drop dumbly to her side. He was a prince. That had completely escaped her mind. Oi. A prince who rode horses like no other and had skills and more than enough stamina.Rachel was turning red. Thoughts like that had never crossed her mind before.maybe it was an elf thing.Faramir raised his eyebrow and looked at her with knowing eyes and his arms crossed. He almost had that fatherly look on his face meant for when a teenaged girl was telling him about her first date in highschool. "Some strong ale to help the migrane," Rachel said, making excuses for herself. He cocked his head to the side. Migrane? Those were.what? Forget about the dazed look on the woman's face. What was a migrane? Faramir loved learning new things. He was very curious. "Nevermind.I'll get it myself," she said quietly. Vaguely, Rachel recalled the pub across the main street. The beer there was more than satisfactory for numbing a blow to the cranium. That was something Rachel loved about Middle-earth. It was one thing.but not the only thing. "Let me attend to you," Faramir said speeding out the door. He ran to the pub, sheltering his head and walked in, greeting the bartender earnestly. "Wha'd'ya need?" he asked, cleaning a mug. Faramir looked at the selection and pointed to a bottle of sweet ale. "That' s not gonna work, Faramir," Rachel said from behind. He nearly jumped and turned to her. Amazing.she was knocked out cold not more than two hours ago! How could she stand doing this all the time? During war, yes, but when she was safe behind a city's walls? Why not let others tend to her? "Why not?" he asked, holding the bottle out in front of him. "Too weak. Hey, tender.you got any guiness Stout?" she said, sitting at the bar head. Stout was very strong liquor (A/N: emphasis on very) and most of the men in hearing range nodded in approval and astonishment. They made way for her at the counter and Faramir stood behind her, handing the sweet ale bottle to a passer-by. "Yeah.it'll cost yeh. It's the best stuff I got," the bartender said to her reaching for a small mug behind her. Rachel shook her head and pointed to the bottle. "I'll take it all. I hope this is good enough," she said, throwing a solid silver star on the counter. The men around her snorted and laughed at the payment. Even Faramir laughed. "What's this?" the tender asked, laughing. "Pure silver.a weapon if you'd rather. I have more than enough to spare one," she told him. The put it under his teeth and bit down. It held up and he handed her the bottle. "That's more than enough to pay fer that there bottle. You want anythin' else, ma'am? That is, if yeh can still after drinking that," the tender asked her. Rachel growled.the noise in the pub was almost unbearable and a need to be drunk was in her highest demands. She popped the top with a swiss army knife and downed a quarter of a bottle. The pipe that was in the bartender's mouth fell tot he floor. "That's quite a swig you got there lady! You'd run me up!" he bellowed. Rachel glugged the rest of the bottle and threw it behind her, making a scrunched face. The look immediately went away. "Damn!" the elf said to herself. Faramir looked at her with amazement. "What?" "I forgot." "What?!" "I'm Irish.I can't get drunk." "What?!!" "Maybe that's why I don't drink." Rachel thanked the guy behind the counter and walked back to the door. Faramir was close by, ogling in her wake. He followed her back to the infirmerary and sat down in his chair while she counted her remaining stars. She only had twetny four left. When they had started, she had fifty. Damn. "Well?" Faramir asked. She wasn't even dazed. "There' sgood news and bad news," Rachel told him, not removing her eyes from the silver hand razors strewn on her bed. "Yes?" She sighed and looked at him. "Bad news. I have a little over half of my stars left." "What are stars?" Rachel got up and Mordil did too. He knew she'd be alright now. Her condition had improved dramatically. She began putting his saddle back on and strapping her weapons on. She had to find a stables somewhere. Oh wait.Faramir would, of course, know where the stables were.duh, Rachel. Faramir decided the woman wasn't going to say anything about her "stars." The younger of Denethor's sons shook his head. "And the good news is?" "My headache's gone."
A/N: snoozin'.waitin' for the "men in white" to pick me up. Um.is it a bad thing that my XO is walking towards me slowly with a tranquilizer gun?