An: Thanks to all my reviewers! I really do appreciate all the feedback!
It's so nice to see that people are actually reading my story and taking
the time out to review it!
TwinkieFreak: If I told you who she reminded him of, I kind of spoil it. Don't worry though, I'll get to that part soon enough. Thanks for the review!
Darth Xena: Thanks for the correction. Italian is my second language (I took three years of it in high school) and the translator program I used must not have picked up on the genders.
kurleyhawk2: Thanks! The people I dance with (except for Spiro who's really very cool) are the worst type of people in the world. Alas, they're my inspiration for the story.
Lomiothiel: Thanks for the two reviews! I can assure you what you fear will not come to pass. Thanks for the criticism about the endings. I'm afraid I've never been good with writing them but I'll try to work on it!
Tha: Thanks! A sort of odd side note, after I finished writing this story, my ballet class actually used music from Lord of the Rings in our "show" dance.
PixiePea000: GOLLUM!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Emma quickly exchanged her slippers and shorts for sneakers and blue jeans and threw her light jacket on. She ran out of the studio in a blur of sliver-white hair.
"What's wrong, pixie?" Shannon asked, catching her daughter as she tried to run from the studio.
Emma threw herself into her mother's arms.
"The guy Miss Michelle brought in chose me," she sobbed.
"Congratulations, pixie," Shannon said happily.
The she noticed, Emma wasn't happy about her choosing.
"What's wrong?" she asked the child.
"He's crazy. He told me we were elves and that he was going to take me home with him," she sobbed.
Shannon hugged Emma and assured her that she was safe and no one, not even a small army of mad elves, was going to take her away.
"Do you want me to go back and talk to Michelle?" Shannon offered.
Shannon hated, with a passion, the pig-like owner of the studio. She only put up with her because dancing made Emma very happy.
"Not today. Can we just go home?" Emma asked.
She'd had enough of that dance studio for one day.
Shannon took Emma's hand and the two began to walk home.
"I'm going to call her before your tap class on Tuesday, no matter what?" Shannon told her.
Emma spent the rest of the day badly shaken and dreading her Tuesday night tap and jazz classes.
Though his words frightened her, something about them had set off bells in Emma's mind.
She had always been different from the other kids her age, both physically and mentally.
Aside from the slightly pointed ears and very long hair, Emma had always been thinner, swifter, and lighter than most kids her age.
Her eyesight and hearing were extremely acute, sensitive enough to pick up even the smallest sounds through the thickest of walls.
The mental difference between her and her peers was even more striking.
While her peers were interested in getting dates and the latest crazes in fashion and make up, Emma was more interested in the arts.
She loved to dance and to read fantasy literature. She loved languages and loved to write stories. She loved to draw and to color.
Add to that the fact she never got sick- she was the only kid in her kindergarten NOT to get chicken pox- and was, technically, not born anywhere that anyone could puzzle out.
Emma shook the thoughts out of her head. They weren't true, they could never be true.
"I'm just as normal as the next kid. As normal as anyone can be with the perfect family," she decided with finality in her mental voice.
(AN: Please review! I thrive on them!)
TwinkieFreak: If I told you who she reminded him of, I kind of spoil it. Don't worry though, I'll get to that part soon enough. Thanks for the review!
Darth Xena: Thanks for the correction. Italian is my second language (I took three years of it in high school) and the translator program I used must not have picked up on the genders.
kurleyhawk2: Thanks! The people I dance with (except for Spiro who's really very cool) are the worst type of people in the world. Alas, they're my inspiration for the story.
Lomiothiel: Thanks for the two reviews! I can assure you what you fear will not come to pass. Thanks for the criticism about the endings. I'm afraid I've never been good with writing them but I'll try to work on it!
Tha: Thanks! A sort of odd side note, after I finished writing this story, my ballet class actually used music from Lord of the Rings in our "show" dance.
PixiePea000: GOLLUM!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Emma quickly exchanged her slippers and shorts for sneakers and blue jeans and threw her light jacket on. She ran out of the studio in a blur of sliver-white hair.
"What's wrong, pixie?" Shannon asked, catching her daughter as she tried to run from the studio.
Emma threw herself into her mother's arms.
"The guy Miss Michelle brought in chose me," she sobbed.
"Congratulations, pixie," Shannon said happily.
The she noticed, Emma wasn't happy about her choosing.
"What's wrong?" she asked the child.
"He's crazy. He told me we were elves and that he was going to take me home with him," she sobbed.
Shannon hugged Emma and assured her that she was safe and no one, not even a small army of mad elves, was going to take her away.
"Do you want me to go back and talk to Michelle?" Shannon offered.
Shannon hated, with a passion, the pig-like owner of the studio. She only put up with her because dancing made Emma very happy.
"Not today. Can we just go home?" Emma asked.
She'd had enough of that dance studio for one day.
Shannon took Emma's hand and the two began to walk home.
"I'm going to call her before your tap class on Tuesday, no matter what?" Shannon told her.
Emma spent the rest of the day badly shaken and dreading her Tuesday night tap and jazz classes.
Though his words frightened her, something about them had set off bells in Emma's mind.
She had always been different from the other kids her age, both physically and mentally.
Aside from the slightly pointed ears and very long hair, Emma had always been thinner, swifter, and lighter than most kids her age.
Her eyesight and hearing were extremely acute, sensitive enough to pick up even the smallest sounds through the thickest of walls.
The mental difference between her and her peers was even more striking.
While her peers were interested in getting dates and the latest crazes in fashion and make up, Emma was more interested in the arts.
She loved to dance and to read fantasy literature. She loved languages and loved to write stories. She loved to draw and to color.
Add to that the fact she never got sick- she was the only kid in her kindergarten NOT to get chicken pox- and was, technically, not born anywhere that anyone could puzzle out.
Emma shook the thoughts out of her head. They weren't true, they could never be true.
"I'm just as normal as the next kid. As normal as anyone can be with the perfect family," she decided with finality in her mental voice.
(AN: Please review! I thrive on them!)