Disclaimer: I own a DVD copy of the only two currently available LoTR movies, I own a computer, and I own the character Beverly. The rest belongs to someone else: Tolkien, Walsh, Jackson, New Line ...I don't know, but I think I've safely escaped copyright infringement.
P.S.: This is based on the regular, non-extended, version of the triology.
P.P.S.: I apologize for any really awkward wording...I've been listening to too much Donovan.
UNPLUGGED
Chapter One: Fuzzy Confusion
By SilentBanshee
She had been an odd child; had been a strangely serious child and no one ever quite knew what to make of her. As an infant, toddler, and young girl, her serious--and somewhat glum--disposition were overlooked because of honey glazed curls that fell like a restless waterfall down to her waist and facial features that made both relatives and strangers alike feel as though she resembled a Madame Alexander doll rather than any of the other children her age. But as she grew, her strange beauty dulled and became easily overlooked and all that could be seen was her odd seriousness. From then on she lived without the adoration of her early childhood to take the bite out of the silent disapproval that she had always been met with. And so, she hardened and learned to live through herself, acting as all the main players in her life. She became her own mother, lover, and child.
And that was what was on her mind when she walked through her comfortably sized New York rent shutting off every light, unplugging every electronic, and closing every window before entering her bedroom. Finally, bathed in a darkness that her eyes easily adjusted to, she threw back the sheets on her bed, climbed in, and cocooned herself in its warmth that seduced her eyelids into sliding down her irises and caused her heart to swell and push against her breastbone. It had been three years since she swore off eating any animal products that had been in a factory farm, eighteen months since she gave up all other meat, and four days since she gave up all food not already mentioned. Being in a world that valued efficience more than humanity sickened her to the point where she no longer felt any desire to live in such a world.
Just before sleep claimed her, her vision went milk white and her brain pulsed with a voice that did not belong to her saying "You must wake." The voice said this a second time, this time placing emphasis on "must" and she felt herself unable to disobey. With a little resistence, her eyelids opened, revealing a set of green eyes that had grown dull from depression and self-imposed starvation. With those eyes, she wasn't altogether very surprised that the pale gold walls of her bedroom had been replaced with trees several times her own age.
"She wakes," a man looming overhead said. His voice was monotone and much different from the one that had invaded her mind an indeterminable length of time before. This man's head was turned away from her and all she could see of his head was flaxen hair and large, angular ears. A second man joined the first and fell to the ground in a crouch.
"Are you alright, my lady?" His voice was deep and smooth, as though he had spent all of his life drinking honeyed tea and nothing else. She nodded with her eyes transfixed on the first man and her eyebrows furrowed in fuzzy confusion.
"I'm all right," she replied in one stale breath that sounded more like a frog's croak than any voice she had ever spoke in.
The decadently voiced man nodded in agreement and put his hand out which she accepted after a moment's contemplation and he then raised the both of them up off of the ground through use of various muscles and tendons. Decaying leaves were tangled in her hair and dirt had stained both her skin and cotton nightgown. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, taking in the trees, the rocks formations to the right of her that sat like the remains of a demolished mansion, and the water that sparkled in the distance. She counted six people standing between the water and herself, not including the two that had been watching her. "Where am I?"
The pale-haired man in front of her searched her face for a moment with his blue all-seeing eyes before replying. "We are at Anon Hen on the river Anduin; Middle Earth, hiril nin."[1]
She squinted at the pale man and furrowed her eyebrows together, casting a shadow over her eyes. "I don't understand."
"Legolas, do not burden her."[2] The darker man with the obviously unwashed hair said in a language that she did not understand and she squinted further, her irises now just two dark slivers peeking out from between the fleshy lids that covered them. He turned to her again. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Legolas of the Woodland Realm."
Her eyes slackened their squint and she studied the specks of gray in Aragorn's eyes. "I'm Beverly."
"And where does Beverly hail from?" a third man asked, her name coming out as if it were the worst curse he knew.
Aragorn put out his right hand as if to stop the third man that had formerly been leaning against a tree idly listening to their conversation. "This is Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, my lady."
Beverly closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm so confused," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.Boromir advanced, regardless of Aragorn's silent warning.
"I would expcet one of Saruman's spies to feign ignorance." The other five men intensified their eavesdropping and Aragorn visibly winced at Boromir's blunt behavior.
"This is no spy," Legolas said in a voice barely above a whisper. Aragorn nodded, but in the background Beverly heard someone snort and say "What would an elf know about spies?"
----------------------------------
Footnotes:
[1] - "Hiril nin", as most of you probably already know, means "my lady" in Sindarin. Since my elvish is actually under that of a novice, this phrase was ripped off of councilofelrond.com which is an excellent site.
[2] - I have absolutely no clue what the Sindarin translation of that phrase is. If any of you do, please please share that with me!
P.S.: This is based on the regular, non-extended, version of the triology.
P.P.S.: I apologize for any really awkward wording...I've been listening to too much Donovan.
UNPLUGGED
Chapter One: Fuzzy Confusion
By SilentBanshee
She had been an odd child; had been a strangely serious child and no one ever quite knew what to make of her. As an infant, toddler, and young girl, her serious--and somewhat glum--disposition were overlooked because of honey glazed curls that fell like a restless waterfall down to her waist and facial features that made both relatives and strangers alike feel as though she resembled a Madame Alexander doll rather than any of the other children her age. But as she grew, her strange beauty dulled and became easily overlooked and all that could be seen was her odd seriousness. From then on she lived without the adoration of her early childhood to take the bite out of the silent disapproval that she had always been met with. And so, she hardened and learned to live through herself, acting as all the main players in her life. She became her own mother, lover, and child.
And that was what was on her mind when she walked through her comfortably sized New York rent shutting off every light, unplugging every electronic, and closing every window before entering her bedroom. Finally, bathed in a darkness that her eyes easily adjusted to, she threw back the sheets on her bed, climbed in, and cocooned herself in its warmth that seduced her eyelids into sliding down her irises and caused her heart to swell and push against her breastbone. It had been three years since she swore off eating any animal products that had been in a factory farm, eighteen months since she gave up all other meat, and four days since she gave up all food not already mentioned. Being in a world that valued efficience more than humanity sickened her to the point where she no longer felt any desire to live in such a world.
Just before sleep claimed her, her vision went milk white and her brain pulsed with a voice that did not belong to her saying "You must wake." The voice said this a second time, this time placing emphasis on "must" and she felt herself unable to disobey. With a little resistence, her eyelids opened, revealing a set of green eyes that had grown dull from depression and self-imposed starvation. With those eyes, she wasn't altogether very surprised that the pale gold walls of her bedroom had been replaced with trees several times her own age.
"She wakes," a man looming overhead said. His voice was monotone and much different from the one that had invaded her mind an indeterminable length of time before. This man's head was turned away from her and all she could see of his head was flaxen hair and large, angular ears. A second man joined the first and fell to the ground in a crouch.
"Are you alright, my lady?" His voice was deep and smooth, as though he had spent all of his life drinking honeyed tea and nothing else. She nodded with her eyes transfixed on the first man and her eyebrows furrowed in fuzzy confusion.
"I'm all right," she replied in one stale breath that sounded more like a frog's croak than any voice she had ever spoke in.
The decadently voiced man nodded in agreement and put his hand out which she accepted after a moment's contemplation and he then raised the both of them up off of the ground through use of various muscles and tendons. Decaying leaves were tangled in her hair and dirt had stained both her skin and cotton nightgown. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, taking in the trees, the rocks formations to the right of her that sat like the remains of a demolished mansion, and the water that sparkled in the distance. She counted six people standing between the water and herself, not including the two that had been watching her. "Where am I?"
The pale-haired man in front of her searched her face for a moment with his blue all-seeing eyes before replying. "We are at Anon Hen on the river Anduin; Middle Earth, hiril nin."[1]
She squinted at the pale man and furrowed her eyebrows together, casting a shadow over her eyes. "I don't understand."
"Legolas, do not burden her."[2] The darker man with the obviously unwashed hair said in a language that she did not understand and she squinted further, her irises now just two dark slivers peeking out from between the fleshy lids that covered them. He turned to her again. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Legolas of the Woodland Realm."
Her eyes slackened their squint and she studied the specks of gray in Aragorn's eyes. "I'm Beverly."
"And where does Beverly hail from?" a third man asked, her name coming out as if it were the worst curse he knew.
Aragorn put out his right hand as if to stop the third man that had formerly been leaning against a tree idly listening to their conversation. "This is Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, my lady."
Beverly closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm so confused," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.Boromir advanced, regardless of Aragorn's silent warning.
"I would expcet one of Saruman's spies to feign ignorance." The other five men intensified their eavesdropping and Aragorn visibly winced at Boromir's blunt behavior.
"This is no spy," Legolas said in a voice barely above a whisper. Aragorn nodded, but in the background Beverly heard someone snort and say "What would an elf know about spies?"
----------------------------------
Footnotes:
[1] - "Hiril nin", as most of you probably already know, means "my lady" in Sindarin. Since my elvish is actually under that of a novice, this phrase was ripped off of councilofelrond.com which is an excellent site.
[2] - I have absolutely no clue what the Sindarin translation of that phrase is. If any of you do, please please share that with me!