AN: I'm ever so sorry for not updating this weekend. I've been researching
leitmotif and its uses in music from its origins in ballet to modern movie
soundtracks (of course I'm adding Lord of the Rings to that list). It's for
a paper that's due next week. Anyway, I'm going to try and get a few more
updates in before all the school stuff starts to pile up. Just keep
reviewing and I'll keep trying to update.
TitanicHobbit: I got the extended edition of The Two Towers (the one with the Gollum Statue because my nickname is Gollum) but I have yet to watch it. My sister does not, in any was, shape, or form, like Tolkien. She won't let me watch the movie because the DVD player is in the room we share. Anyway, I'm not going to Trilogy Tuesday either. My dad couldn't get my mom and I tickets. I based Shannon on my own mom. She and Shannon have quite a lot in common. I hope you have a good week as well!
Elainor: Thanks for the compliment. I didn't like his character in The Hobbit. Thanks for the review as well!
PixiePea000: Let's just say, Shannon and my mom have a lot in common. My mom would want to say something to the king. By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith!
littlesaiyangirl: Just a bit! Just a bit! I'll try and thanks!
Lluvatar: I have this theory about Gandalf and Dumbledore. They, along with old Obi-Wan from the original Star Wars Trilogy, are all based on the same initial character. That character being Merlin. Gandalf and Dumbledore aren't the same person; they're just very alike in character and know each other. Thanks for the review.
Midnight-Insomniac1532: Thanks for the complement and I will try to update as soon as I can.
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.
The small family, still under the highest guard, awoke the next morning to find a lavish breakfast and an elven prince waiting for them.
"Did you do this?" Shannon asked, blearily rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
"That's not the question," Mitchell cut in.
He was wide awake and watching the prince like a hawk. Distrust for these elves was building in his mind. Mitchell suspected something was going on or that this elf was planning to do something, though he had no proof to substantiate that feeling.
"The question is," he continued, "why, did he do this?"
"Mitchell, please," Shannon started.
This time, she was cut off by a nightgown clad figure bounding through a doorway that lead to a smaller bedroom.
It was Emma, the consummate morning person.
"Mom, what's going on? I thought I heard you and dad talking," she said, coming to a stop next to her mother and pushing a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes.
It was then Emma noticed Legolas standing in the room. To her, he looked nervous. Normal calm was replaced by something that looked like barely restrained nerves. He appeared to have to say something but he wasn't very willing to say it right away. Instead, it appeared he had created a nice cover-up, a façade to hide the unpleasantness.
"Good morning, Legolas," she called, in her "Let's-Be-Bright-And-Cheery-And- Bother-Everyone-I-Dance-With-At-8:30AM" voice.
"Good morning, little elf," he replied, his voice not indicating his feelings.
He turned from Emma to Shannon and Mitchell.
"Perhaps, we should sit and eat. There is something I need to tell you," Legolas said, regret in his voice.
Mitchell took the seat at the head of the table. To his right sat Shannon. His left sat Emma. Next to Emma sat Legolas.
"What is it you need to tell us?" Mitchell asked, eyes narrowing at the elf.
"Please eat first. Then we can talk," the elf requested.
There was very little conversation during the meal. A tense cloud of silence hung in the air and seemed to dampen everyone's spirits, including Emma's. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on the dish in front of her, only speaking to accept or decline something to eat.
"What is it, you wanted to tell us?" Shannon asked, after she had finished eating.
The elf took a deep breath and let it out.
"My father would like to speak to you," he said, in a measured voice.
"Good," Mitchell announced, "I'd like to give that pompous tyrant a piece of my mind."
Legolas shook his head, indicating that Mitchell had totally missed his message.
"He does not want to speak with you. He wants to speak with Shannon and Shannon only. For some strange, unknown, reason, he feels that she is responsible for my reaction towards Emma," Legolas corrected.
Mitchell looked livid, as if he wanted to do something very rash and very drastic to the elven prince. A look from Shannon made him back down.
"When does he want to speak to me?" Shannon asked, trying not to sound as shocked as she was feeling.
"As soon as possible," Legolas informed the woman.
"Allow me to get dressed and then we can go see your father," Shannon announced, her voice gaining a resolute edge to it.
She wanted to give the elven king a "piece of her mind," so to speak. After finding out his reaction to Emma, she was thoroughly annoyed with him.
"I can come, right?" Emma piped up.
"I am sorry, little elf, but his request was for your mother only," Legolas said.
Emma looked hurt. She had been hoping that, with a night to sleep on the new information, Thranduil might come around. It appeared that she was mistaken.
"How about you stay here, pixie, and tell dad all about dancing for the king and queen? He went to bed before you had a chance to tell him all about it," Shannon suggested.
Mitchell looked exasperated; he didn't want to hear anything pleasant about this place. He didn't feel that anything pleasant could exist here. How come? Well, he didn't like it here so, that meant, no one should like it here.
"Alright," Emma said, slowly, knowing full well that her father didn't want to hear about it.
"That's a good girl," Shannon affirmed, ruffling Emma's already sleep mused hair, "I'll be back as soon as I can."
Clad in a simple deep blue dress, Shannon was taken before the king. Her thoughts were well ordered and, she felt, that she could answer any of his questions in a logical manner. As long as her emotions did not run too high, she would be fine.
"Father, Shannon is here, just as you requested," Legolas announced, as the two neared the throne.
The king did not look up right away. He wanted the human woman to be intimidated by his mere presence. He wanted her to understand that he was the one on charge, the one in whose hands her fate and the fate of her daughter rested.
Shannon, instead of being intimidated, was reflecting on how unlike Thranduil and his son looked. The waiting was making her grow impatient which was leading to an overall sense of annoyance that was taking root in her. She wanted to speak her piece and be done with it. She did not like being made to stand and wait like some disobedient child who was awaiting punishment.
"Legolas please take your leave," the king requested, in his most commanding voice.
"As you wish father," Legolas said, bowing and taking his leave from the room.
As he exited, he benefited Shannon with a small smile. He was trying to reassure her and give her a bit of extra strength. She returned the smile, acknowledging that she had received the message loud and clear.
"Do you know why you were brought before me?" the king questioned, regarding Shannon with a very cold stare.
"Your son said you wanted to speak to me," Shannon answered, trying to sound as polite as possible.
A handful of moments passed, as Shannon and Thranduil gave each other a good once over.
"I would like to know what you have done to my son or what you have trained that brat child of yours to do," Thranduil said, breaking the growing silence.
His tone was cold, akin to someone who had already made up his mind and was not going to change it for any reason.
"I think," Shannon started a slight quaver to her voice.
His bluntness had caught her off guard. No small talk. No chatter. It was a straight blow to the heart of the matter. She took a deep breath and centered herself.
Calming down, she continued, "I think that it is unfair for you to call my daughter 'that brat child.' Despite the fact I raised her, she is your daughter. It is not very nice for a father to refer to his daughter like that."
"She is not my daughter," the king corrected in a condescending voice, "she was an accident. As such, I refuse to see her as a child of mine."
"An accident? You're calling her an accident? I thought your kind had more dignity than that," she countered.
"My kind, what do you know of my kind? You are new to this world and know nothing about it," the king commented.
"I know far more than you know. I remember what you elves were like in ages past. I have these memories that keep coming up. You were a fair race but vicious in battle. That viciousness was offset only by your kindness off the battlefield. Kindness you showed to family and friends alike," Shannon intoned.
Her dreams had become more powerful, more informative since her arrival in Middle Earth. She was not only recounting battle scenes but parts of her life outside the warrior's realm as well. She recalled meeting elves and spending short spans of time with them. These spans of time were highlighted by music or poetry that she was just starting to recall.
The Mirkwood king gave Shannon an odd look. It was clear that he was conflicted and caught off guard by her statement. He did not think she would remember things such as that.
"Unless, she is fabricating it," he, mentally, mused.
A cold smile crossed his features. Its appearance made the elven king look like a predator about to pounce its prey.
"Ah, yes, my son told me about your true past. How---interesting---is it to learn that you were not given a daughter by happy accident," the king commented.
"Very interesting, sir. What are you getting at?" Shannon wanted to know.
"Perhaps, I was fated to have this accident, just as you were fated to benefit from it," the king mused.
"Please, do not refer to Emma as an accident," Shannon said, through clenched teeth.
If possible, the king's smile grew colder. He could see the anger rising in the mortal woman. He had her where he wanted her.
"Perhaps, I should just send you, your male counterpart and the brat princess away from here. That would save my halls from your stain for all my days," he suggested.
Shannon was livid. He had insulted her. He had insulted her daughter. She felt an unquenchable rage build up in her chest. She wanted to strike out at the elven king. She wanted him to hurt physically just as she was hurting emotionally.
"Keep it together, Shannon," she told herself, "you hit this pompous monster and you'll be out of her faster than you can say 'Exit Mr. Hat.'"
A sense of totally and utter calm passed over Shannon. Her head cleared, her breathing was not coming in angry gasps. A moment of clarity---that was what she called moments such as these. Everything was put into focus and made sense to her.
The man sitting on the throne was no different than the men in her world who refused to pay child support for a daughter or son they knew was theirs. He was, in her mind, a "deadbeat dad." It was an interesting twist of fate that his son had taken a liking to his half-sister.
"You, good sir, are a monster. You deny your daughter just because you do not want to admit a mistake. That is very, very self-centered and egomaniacal of you. What you fail to realize is that you are missing out on getting to know a wonderful little girl. She is not a 'brat princess' or 'that brat child.' She is a good girl, a sweet girl, an innocent girl who wanted only to meet her real family. She's met you and seen that there was no benefit in meeting you. Perhaps the only benefit was that she has an older brother. Someone who understands what she is and where she comes from. Your son has befriended your daughter. Why can you do the same?" Shannon explained.
"You and your daughter have put some kind of enchantment over my son. He knows not what he does. I will not fall under the same enchantment," Thranduil replied, thoroughly shocked by the mortal woman's statements.
He called out in his own language and two guards appeared on either side of his throne.
"Take her back to her quarters and fetch my son," he ordered.
The two guards nodded their acknowledgement of the orders. They came down from the throne and flanked the mortal woman. A gentle nudge on the back set the woman walking.
Turing around, Shannon stopped. Planting her feet, she made herself a somewhat immovable object.
"In my world, we have a saying 'Blood is thicker than water.' It would seem that this saying does not apply here," she commented.
After making that statement, she allowed the guards to escort her from the room. She had a daughter to see and a husband to calm down.
The king, upon her exit, sat alone on his throne. There was much he needed to think about. The cogs in his mind began a slow turn, ideas forming.
TitanicHobbit: I got the extended edition of The Two Towers (the one with the Gollum Statue because my nickname is Gollum) but I have yet to watch it. My sister does not, in any was, shape, or form, like Tolkien. She won't let me watch the movie because the DVD player is in the room we share. Anyway, I'm not going to Trilogy Tuesday either. My dad couldn't get my mom and I tickets. I based Shannon on my own mom. She and Shannon have quite a lot in common. I hope you have a good week as well!
Elainor: Thanks for the compliment. I didn't like his character in The Hobbit. Thanks for the review as well!
PixiePea000: Let's just say, Shannon and my mom have a lot in common. My mom would want to say something to the king. By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith!
littlesaiyangirl: Just a bit! Just a bit! I'll try and thanks!
Lluvatar: I have this theory about Gandalf and Dumbledore. They, along with old Obi-Wan from the original Star Wars Trilogy, are all based on the same initial character. That character being Merlin. Gandalf and Dumbledore aren't the same person; they're just very alike in character and know each other. Thanks for the review.
Midnight-Insomniac1532: Thanks for the complement and I will try to update as soon as I can.
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.
The small family, still under the highest guard, awoke the next morning to find a lavish breakfast and an elven prince waiting for them.
"Did you do this?" Shannon asked, blearily rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
"That's not the question," Mitchell cut in.
He was wide awake and watching the prince like a hawk. Distrust for these elves was building in his mind. Mitchell suspected something was going on or that this elf was planning to do something, though he had no proof to substantiate that feeling.
"The question is," he continued, "why, did he do this?"
"Mitchell, please," Shannon started.
This time, she was cut off by a nightgown clad figure bounding through a doorway that lead to a smaller bedroom.
It was Emma, the consummate morning person.
"Mom, what's going on? I thought I heard you and dad talking," she said, coming to a stop next to her mother and pushing a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes.
It was then Emma noticed Legolas standing in the room. To her, he looked nervous. Normal calm was replaced by something that looked like barely restrained nerves. He appeared to have to say something but he wasn't very willing to say it right away. Instead, it appeared he had created a nice cover-up, a façade to hide the unpleasantness.
"Good morning, Legolas," she called, in her "Let's-Be-Bright-And-Cheery-And- Bother-Everyone-I-Dance-With-At-8:30AM" voice.
"Good morning, little elf," he replied, his voice not indicating his feelings.
He turned from Emma to Shannon and Mitchell.
"Perhaps, we should sit and eat. There is something I need to tell you," Legolas said, regret in his voice.
Mitchell took the seat at the head of the table. To his right sat Shannon. His left sat Emma. Next to Emma sat Legolas.
"What is it you need to tell us?" Mitchell asked, eyes narrowing at the elf.
"Please eat first. Then we can talk," the elf requested.
There was very little conversation during the meal. A tense cloud of silence hung in the air and seemed to dampen everyone's spirits, including Emma's. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on the dish in front of her, only speaking to accept or decline something to eat.
"What is it, you wanted to tell us?" Shannon asked, after she had finished eating.
The elf took a deep breath and let it out.
"My father would like to speak to you," he said, in a measured voice.
"Good," Mitchell announced, "I'd like to give that pompous tyrant a piece of my mind."
Legolas shook his head, indicating that Mitchell had totally missed his message.
"He does not want to speak with you. He wants to speak with Shannon and Shannon only. For some strange, unknown, reason, he feels that she is responsible for my reaction towards Emma," Legolas corrected.
Mitchell looked livid, as if he wanted to do something very rash and very drastic to the elven prince. A look from Shannon made him back down.
"When does he want to speak to me?" Shannon asked, trying not to sound as shocked as she was feeling.
"As soon as possible," Legolas informed the woman.
"Allow me to get dressed and then we can go see your father," Shannon announced, her voice gaining a resolute edge to it.
She wanted to give the elven king a "piece of her mind," so to speak. After finding out his reaction to Emma, she was thoroughly annoyed with him.
"I can come, right?" Emma piped up.
"I am sorry, little elf, but his request was for your mother only," Legolas said.
Emma looked hurt. She had been hoping that, with a night to sleep on the new information, Thranduil might come around. It appeared that she was mistaken.
"How about you stay here, pixie, and tell dad all about dancing for the king and queen? He went to bed before you had a chance to tell him all about it," Shannon suggested.
Mitchell looked exasperated; he didn't want to hear anything pleasant about this place. He didn't feel that anything pleasant could exist here. How come? Well, he didn't like it here so, that meant, no one should like it here.
"Alright," Emma said, slowly, knowing full well that her father didn't want to hear about it.
"That's a good girl," Shannon affirmed, ruffling Emma's already sleep mused hair, "I'll be back as soon as I can."
Clad in a simple deep blue dress, Shannon was taken before the king. Her thoughts were well ordered and, she felt, that she could answer any of his questions in a logical manner. As long as her emotions did not run too high, she would be fine.
"Father, Shannon is here, just as you requested," Legolas announced, as the two neared the throne.
The king did not look up right away. He wanted the human woman to be intimidated by his mere presence. He wanted her to understand that he was the one on charge, the one in whose hands her fate and the fate of her daughter rested.
Shannon, instead of being intimidated, was reflecting on how unlike Thranduil and his son looked. The waiting was making her grow impatient which was leading to an overall sense of annoyance that was taking root in her. She wanted to speak her piece and be done with it. She did not like being made to stand and wait like some disobedient child who was awaiting punishment.
"Legolas please take your leave," the king requested, in his most commanding voice.
"As you wish father," Legolas said, bowing and taking his leave from the room.
As he exited, he benefited Shannon with a small smile. He was trying to reassure her and give her a bit of extra strength. She returned the smile, acknowledging that she had received the message loud and clear.
"Do you know why you were brought before me?" the king questioned, regarding Shannon with a very cold stare.
"Your son said you wanted to speak to me," Shannon answered, trying to sound as polite as possible.
A handful of moments passed, as Shannon and Thranduil gave each other a good once over.
"I would like to know what you have done to my son or what you have trained that brat child of yours to do," Thranduil said, breaking the growing silence.
His tone was cold, akin to someone who had already made up his mind and was not going to change it for any reason.
"I think," Shannon started a slight quaver to her voice.
His bluntness had caught her off guard. No small talk. No chatter. It was a straight blow to the heart of the matter. She took a deep breath and centered herself.
Calming down, she continued, "I think that it is unfair for you to call my daughter 'that brat child.' Despite the fact I raised her, she is your daughter. It is not very nice for a father to refer to his daughter like that."
"She is not my daughter," the king corrected in a condescending voice, "she was an accident. As such, I refuse to see her as a child of mine."
"An accident? You're calling her an accident? I thought your kind had more dignity than that," she countered.
"My kind, what do you know of my kind? You are new to this world and know nothing about it," the king commented.
"I know far more than you know. I remember what you elves were like in ages past. I have these memories that keep coming up. You were a fair race but vicious in battle. That viciousness was offset only by your kindness off the battlefield. Kindness you showed to family and friends alike," Shannon intoned.
Her dreams had become more powerful, more informative since her arrival in Middle Earth. She was not only recounting battle scenes but parts of her life outside the warrior's realm as well. She recalled meeting elves and spending short spans of time with them. These spans of time were highlighted by music or poetry that she was just starting to recall.
The Mirkwood king gave Shannon an odd look. It was clear that he was conflicted and caught off guard by her statement. He did not think she would remember things such as that.
"Unless, she is fabricating it," he, mentally, mused.
A cold smile crossed his features. Its appearance made the elven king look like a predator about to pounce its prey.
"Ah, yes, my son told me about your true past. How---interesting---is it to learn that you were not given a daughter by happy accident," the king commented.
"Very interesting, sir. What are you getting at?" Shannon wanted to know.
"Perhaps, I was fated to have this accident, just as you were fated to benefit from it," the king mused.
"Please, do not refer to Emma as an accident," Shannon said, through clenched teeth.
If possible, the king's smile grew colder. He could see the anger rising in the mortal woman. He had her where he wanted her.
"Perhaps, I should just send you, your male counterpart and the brat princess away from here. That would save my halls from your stain for all my days," he suggested.
Shannon was livid. He had insulted her. He had insulted her daughter. She felt an unquenchable rage build up in her chest. She wanted to strike out at the elven king. She wanted him to hurt physically just as she was hurting emotionally.
"Keep it together, Shannon," she told herself, "you hit this pompous monster and you'll be out of her faster than you can say 'Exit Mr. Hat.'"
A sense of totally and utter calm passed over Shannon. Her head cleared, her breathing was not coming in angry gasps. A moment of clarity---that was what she called moments such as these. Everything was put into focus and made sense to her.
The man sitting on the throne was no different than the men in her world who refused to pay child support for a daughter or son they knew was theirs. He was, in her mind, a "deadbeat dad." It was an interesting twist of fate that his son had taken a liking to his half-sister.
"You, good sir, are a monster. You deny your daughter just because you do not want to admit a mistake. That is very, very self-centered and egomaniacal of you. What you fail to realize is that you are missing out on getting to know a wonderful little girl. She is not a 'brat princess' or 'that brat child.' She is a good girl, a sweet girl, an innocent girl who wanted only to meet her real family. She's met you and seen that there was no benefit in meeting you. Perhaps the only benefit was that she has an older brother. Someone who understands what she is and where she comes from. Your son has befriended your daughter. Why can you do the same?" Shannon explained.
"You and your daughter have put some kind of enchantment over my son. He knows not what he does. I will not fall under the same enchantment," Thranduil replied, thoroughly shocked by the mortal woman's statements.
He called out in his own language and two guards appeared on either side of his throne.
"Take her back to her quarters and fetch my son," he ordered.
The two guards nodded their acknowledgement of the orders. They came down from the throne and flanked the mortal woman. A gentle nudge on the back set the woman walking.
Turing around, Shannon stopped. Planting her feet, she made herself a somewhat immovable object.
"In my world, we have a saying 'Blood is thicker than water.' It would seem that this saying does not apply here," she commented.
After making that statement, she allowed the guards to escort her from the room. She had a daughter to see and a husband to calm down.
The king, upon her exit, sat alone on his throne. There was much he needed to think about. The cogs in his mind began a slow turn, ideas forming.