AN: Wow! I didn't think anyone was going to review this when I put it up!
You reviewers rock! By the way, I found out from a friend today that ballet
is the number 2 ranked my physical sport. The number 1 ranked sport:
football.
a fan of LotR and dance: Thanks! I'm surprised to see so many ballet fans on this site. I'm glad you liked my idea!
ldy imladris: I'll try to update as quickly as possible and thank you for the compliment.
PixiePea000: Um, eventually he'll tell them but they're not quite ready to know. Slow and steady wins the race. By the way, GOLLUM!
Lomiothiel: I know what you mean. My mom and I don't tell my dad the prices of my dance costumes and shoes anymore. He gets kinda upset about them. I'm sorry to hear about your hockey thing.
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 went home, sitting with her father in silence. She, usually, talked about what had gone one during her lessons but not tonight.
"Rough class, Emma?" her father asked.
"Not really, dad," she replied simply.
"Then why are you being so quiet?" he questioned.
"I'm just thinking, that's all," Emma answered.
Mitchell nodded and continued to drive in silence.
As soon as they got home, Emma ran to her room. She changed into her purple pajamas and went back down stairs.
Her parents were sitting in the living room watching TV. They looked so relaxed, so at ease that Emma figured that this was probably the best time to talk to them.
"Mom, dad, can I talk to you for a bit?" she asked.
"Of course, pixie," Shannon said, "Mitchell said you were very quiet on the way home from dancing. Is something wrong?"
"I'm not really sure," Emma replied.
She launched into the story of what had happened and what she had learned at the studio earlier that day. She explained everything, from the images the elf created in the mirror to what he had said to her.
"It was probably just a trick those idiots at the studio thought up. You don't believe that trash, Emma," Mitchell said, sounding slightly angry.
"But, dad, he wasn't from this studio so Miss Michelle and the rest of them couldn't have made up the story and told it to him o he could play along," Emma countered.
"Sure they didn't. You can't trust people like them. There are no such things as elves. You're as normal as the next kid," Mitchell retorted.
"But dad." began Emma.
"No buts, Emma, I thought you were smarter than that. I told you, Shannon, she shouldn't have gone back there but you insisted she go. See what kinds of mad ideas they put into her head," Mitchell ranted, turning on his wife.
"Mitch, please, you're upsetting Emma," Shannon pleaded as she watched tears form in her daughter's eyes.
"And those people upset me," Mitchell yelled as he walked out of the room, slamming the door to his office.
Emma, meanwhile, ran up to her bedroom, leaving Shannon standing in the middle of the living room.
"Why does this always happen?" she moaned.
"Pixie, you know the difference between fact and fiction, right?" Shannon asked.
She had managed to calm Emma down and was in the process of tucking her into bed. Shannon realized Emma was, probably, far too old to still be tucked in but she got a measure of mental comfort from it. She knew that Emma was safe in bed when she tucked her in for the night.
"Of course I do, mom. Do you think I'm crazy, too? Dad thinks I'm crazy," Emma replied.
"I don't think you're crazy and your father doesn't either. It just upsets him that those people at the studio take advantage of you like that. He only wants you to be alright," Shannon answered.
"What's wrong then?" Emma asked her mother.
"It's just that I don't want you to get hurt. That's the last thing I want to see," Shannon answered.
"But believing in something like this isn't going to hurt. What if it's true?" Emma said, in a child-like voice.
"What if it's not?" her mother countered.
Emma's story had sparked memories of her own. Not memories, per say, more like dreams. For the past few days, ever since the first incident at the studio, she had been having odd, vision-like dreams. They seemed less like normal dreams, more like her mind trying to force her to recall something, something long since forgotten and buried in the recesses of her mind. More often than not, there were elves in her dream-visions. From what she could recall and all of that was very foggy, the elves in her dream-visions looked like the elf Emma had described to her.
"I understand totally, mom, but what if it's true. Then it would explain a lot of things. Maybe, then I could meet my real family. I just want to see what they're like, you know, just to see what they look like and how they act," Emma told Shannon, her voice full of hope.
Shannon sighed and ruffled Emma's hair.
"Get to sleeping, pixie, it's late and you have school and gymnastics tomorrow," Shannon said, as she got up and began to walk out of the room.
"Good night mom! You know I love you," Emma called, snuggling into her bed.
"I love you too, pixie," Shannon called back.
She turned of the lights and shut the door, leaving it open a tiny crack just in case Emma needing something during the night. It was a habit she had started back when Emma was just a baby.
"My daughter, an elf," she thought with a small mental laugh.
The idea did make some sort of sense, in an odd sort of way. The part about Lord of the Rings made, at the same time, both the least and most sense given the situation.
Shannon shrugged and walked halfway down the stairs. The sound of clicking keys and Celtic music indicated that Mitchell was "blowing of steam" by playing cards on the internet.
Shannon turned and headed back toward her own bedroom.
Before she drifted off to sleep, she thought, "Elves aren't real, are they?"
(AN: Shannon is kind of, sort of based on my own mother. She's also dedicated to my mom---the only person in the world crazy enough to wait on line for baseball tickets, wrestling tickets, copies of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, watch the two Lord of the Rings movies an ungodly number of times [even if she really isn't the biggest of fans], and do all sorts of other crazy things with me and/or my sister.)
a fan of LotR and dance: Thanks! I'm surprised to see so many ballet fans on this site. I'm glad you liked my idea!
ldy imladris: I'll try to update as quickly as possible and thank you for the compliment.
PixiePea000: Um, eventually he'll tell them but they're not quite ready to know. Slow and steady wins the race. By the way, GOLLUM!
Lomiothiel: I know what you mean. My mom and I don't tell my dad the prices of my dance costumes and shoes anymore. He gets kinda upset about them. I'm sorry to hear about your hockey thing.
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 went home, sitting with her father in silence. She, usually, talked about what had gone one during her lessons but not tonight.
"Rough class, Emma?" her father asked.
"Not really, dad," she replied simply.
"Then why are you being so quiet?" he questioned.
"I'm just thinking, that's all," Emma answered.
Mitchell nodded and continued to drive in silence.
As soon as they got home, Emma ran to her room. She changed into her purple pajamas and went back down stairs.
Her parents were sitting in the living room watching TV. They looked so relaxed, so at ease that Emma figured that this was probably the best time to talk to them.
"Mom, dad, can I talk to you for a bit?" she asked.
"Of course, pixie," Shannon said, "Mitchell said you were very quiet on the way home from dancing. Is something wrong?"
"I'm not really sure," Emma replied.
She launched into the story of what had happened and what she had learned at the studio earlier that day. She explained everything, from the images the elf created in the mirror to what he had said to her.
"It was probably just a trick those idiots at the studio thought up. You don't believe that trash, Emma," Mitchell said, sounding slightly angry.
"But, dad, he wasn't from this studio so Miss Michelle and the rest of them couldn't have made up the story and told it to him o he could play along," Emma countered.
"Sure they didn't. You can't trust people like them. There are no such things as elves. You're as normal as the next kid," Mitchell retorted.
"But dad." began Emma.
"No buts, Emma, I thought you were smarter than that. I told you, Shannon, she shouldn't have gone back there but you insisted she go. See what kinds of mad ideas they put into her head," Mitchell ranted, turning on his wife.
"Mitch, please, you're upsetting Emma," Shannon pleaded as she watched tears form in her daughter's eyes.
"And those people upset me," Mitchell yelled as he walked out of the room, slamming the door to his office.
Emma, meanwhile, ran up to her bedroom, leaving Shannon standing in the middle of the living room.
"Why does this always happen?" she moaned.
"Pixie, you know the difference between fact and fiction, right?" Shannon asked.
She had managed to calm Emma down and was in the process of tucking her into bed. Shannon realized Emma was, probably, far too old to still be tucked in but she got a measure of mental comfort from it. She knew that Emma was safe in bed when she tucked her in for the night.
"Of course I do, mom. Do you think I'm crazy, too? Dad thinks I'm crazy," Emma replied.
"I don't think you're crazy and your father doesn't either. It just upsets him that those people at the studio take advantage of you like that. He only wants you to be alright," Shannon answered.
"What's wrong then?" Emma asked her mother.
"It's just that I don't want you to get hurt. That's the last thing I want to see," Shannon answered.
"But believing in something like this isn't going to hurt. What if it's true?" Emma said, in a child-like voice.
"What if it's not?" her mother countered.
Emma's story had sparked memories of her own. Not memories, per say, more like dreams. For the past few days, ever since the first incident at the studio, she had been having odd, vision-like dreams. They seemed less like normal dreams, more like her mind trying to force her to recall something, something long since forgotten and buried in the recesses of her mind. More often than not, there were elves in her dream-visions. From what she could recall and all of that was very foggy, the elves in her dream-visions looked like the elf Emma had described to her.
"I understand totally, mom, but what if it's true. Then it would explain a lot of things. Maybe, then I could meet my real family. I just want to see what they're like, you know, just to see what they look like and how they act," Emma told Shannon, her voice full of hope.
Shannon sighed and ruffled Emma's hair.
"Get to sleeping, pixie, it's late and you have school and gymnastics tomorrow," Shannon said, as she got up and began to walk out of the room.
"Good night mom! You know I love you," Emma called, snuggling into her bed.
"I love you too, pixie," Shannon called back.
She turned of the lights and shut the door, leaving it open a tiny crack just in case Emma needing something during the night. It was a habit she had started back when Emma was just a baby.
"My daughter, an elf," she thought with a small mental laugh.
The idea did make some sort of sense, in an odd sort of way. The part about Lord of the Rings made, at the same time, both the least and most sense given the situation.
Shannon shrugged and walked halfway down the stairs. The sound of clicking keys and Celtic music indicated that Mitchell was "blowing of steam" by playing cards on the internet.
Shannon turned and headed back toward her own bedroom.
Before she drifted off to sleep, she thought, "Elves aren't real, are they?"
(AN: Shannon is kind of, sort of based on my own mother. She's also dedicated to my mom---the only person in the world crazy enough to wait on line for baseball tickets, wrestling tickets, copies of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, watch the two Lord of the Rings movies an ungodly number of times [even if she really isn't the biggest of fans], and do all sorts of other crazy things with me and/or my sister.)