A/N: Samples of the color chips listed can be seen by accessing the website
for Wilsonart Laminate at their homepage. Just type in www.wilsonart. com
/laminate /consumer /products /index.asp without the spaces between the dot
and the com and just before each of the slash marks.
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas; I am merely the keeper of his virginity. Apparently I'm also his provider of free room and board and anything and everything else his little heart desires while he's staying here. No profit or gain is being made by the mention of any brand names, or even the illusion of any mention of brand names. Even people's names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Since Legolas isn't totally innocent, I left his name real.
Big thanks once again to PuterPatty and leail for the beta services. These chapters just wouldn't be the same without their help. Ya'll just don't know the full extent of my southern-ness without these two Yanks keeping my commas from taking over every one of my thoughts *winks at PP and leail*
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Chapter 17 Games We Play
On Wednesday night, I dash home from work only to dash back out the door again, headed to kid's choir with Lil' Pip, followed by our weekly fellowship dinner with my church family. After dinner, the congregation splits up into study groups. Lil' Pip goes to the children's wing to practice for a play the kids are going to put on for us. Legolas has found his niche in the kitchen, wooing the ladies that cook and helping clean up by dumping all the used tea glasses, rolling up all the paper table cloths, and washing up the silverware. As for Yes Dear and I? Hence comes the evening's highlight - the class for married couples.
We're a rowdy bunch, having already been moved once on the very first night of class for disturbing the other bible study group that was taking place in the room next door to us. Apparently the laughter coming from our class was too much for the serious students who were 'seeing the light' while we were watching our first video in the dark. The giggling stemmed from the fact that when the lights went out, several of the husband-wife teams teasingly switched handholding partners, and the movement sort of took on a life of its own as the switching continued from right to left all the way around the room.
When the lights came back up, the group leader discovered exactly why she seemed to have lost control of her class during a video that was meant to be light-heartedly humorous, but truthfully not deserving of the outright gut-busting chortling that was taking place.
"Alright, alright," she exclaimed, "it's not THAT kind of a marriage class!"
Tonight, we find ourselves giggling again. The topic of discussion is how couples fight. We play a game where we have to guess what our other half would say in answer to questions like, "What's his favorite sport?", "Without looking, what color are her eyes?", and "When is your anniversary?" Yes Dear and I are scoring 100%, getting every single answer right.
When we tally up the scores at the end, Legolas pipes up from the back of the room with, "U tuw wear MFEO."
"MFEO?" I ask. "What's MFEO?"
"Maed Fur Eech Oethur" he answers, sitting there rocking with his chair up on its back legs and his arms crossed over his chest. "PuterPatty tawt me dat."
"That's true, Legolas," pipes in my friend Patsy. "Those two never even fight."
"Yeas dey due," Legolas answers.
"No we don't," I reply.
"Yaes u due," Legolas retorts.
"No we don't!"
"Yes we do," says Yes Dear from my other side.
"WE DO NOT!" I raise my voice. Pausing for a second, I realize I am NOT winning this conversation, so I change tactics with, "So, little elfboy, what in the heck are you doing in this class anyway? Planning something?"
"I herd u geegileeng. I caem tu sea whut u wear laffin abot."
Once class is over, I head to chancel choir practice. Legolas begs off and asks if he can go on home with Yes Dear, wanting to look at his countertop samples again. He spent the afternoon lining them up on top of the old countertop, comparing how they looked in the light on the left side of the kitchen by the refrigerator to how they looked in the light on the right coming from the hood over the stove.
I didn't bother to worry him with the fact that the color of the cabinets was going to change from eggshell to white, and that we would be getting a new stove with one of those ceramic flat tops that doesn't have the coils that always seem to need cleaning, as well as a new range hood and light. We'd also be putting in spotlighting over the sink instead of the fluorescent that resides there now, and even the sink would be different. Sometimes even just a little information is too much, you know?
Later, after spending an hour trying to keep the tenor section from drowning in notes that are slightly off (where is that elf when I need him?), I arrive home to find a hole where the moldy corner cabinet used to be. The butcher block countertop has been sawed straight through, with just enough room for the dish drainer remaining by the sink, its wire rack sort of hanging there suspended by a wing and a prayer. The plywood floor that's exposed now is covered with black slime embedded in the grain of the wood itself, and the whole house smells like a mixture of mildew and something industrial like Mr. Clean. There's even a mark in the drywall by the dish drainer where the saw blade must have slipped and gone right through the painted surface.
"What's going on here?" I demand.
The elven princeling comes bouncing around the corner of the doorway, sliding to a halt in his Joe Boxer white sport socks on the bouncy-squishy linoleum directly in front of me.
"Yaes Deer uzed da POEWER SAEW!" he announces, his eyes wide.
"I see that."
"It'z DIS BEEG!" he continues, holding his hands out shoulder-wide for me to see.
"I know. What happened to my kitchen?"
"It'z all saewd uep!" he exclaims, clapping his hands gleefully.
About this time, Yes Dear himself steps around the doorway.
"Somebody tell me what happened in here while I was gone?" I insist.
"I took out the moldy cabinet like I told you I was going to," he answers.
"You never said anything about cutting up the kitchen," I retort.
"How else did you think I was going to get it out?" he growls.
Hmmmm. I don't think I ever really thought about it. I guess I figured he would just slide the moldy wood part out from under the countertop and it would just stand up there all by itself.
"Well, I certainly didn't think you were going to saw a hole in the wall!" I yell.
"I didn't saw a hole in the wall," he replies.
"Well, there certainly IS a hole in the . . . ." I pause as the full meaning of what he just said sinks in. We must be truly MFEO, because at the exact same instant our eyes turn to the quivering mass of anticipation standing to my left.
"I deed it!" beams Prance Helpful. "I goet tu saew wid da poewer saew, an I cuet a hoel en da waell!"
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Two hours later, it's time for bed and we're still not speaking to each other.
I decide enough's enough, and that it's time to breach the Deeping Wall.
"What were you thinking, letting him use power tools?" I whisper, hoping the elven ears can't hear me through two bedroom walls and half the length of the hallway. "What if he'd slipped and cut himself? What if he'd gotten hurt? It's not like you can run him down to the county hospital to be patched up, you know."
"I know. He's not covered under our insurance."
"That's NOT what I mean, and you know it. He's not human - who knows what the differences in treatment for our races would be? What if he turns out to be allergic to something they give him and has a reaction and it kills him? What will we do then?"
"It was just a simple job. I showed him how to do it, and I was there the whole time. He's a quick learner, and he's quite capable of pushing a button to turn a circular saw on and off all by himself. You let him run the microwave."
"It's NOT the same," I grumble.
"AND the vacuum cleaner. He could crush his toes off with the beater bar if he ran over his foot with that. Or haven't you stopped to consider that possibility yet? And what about the washing machine?"
I'm done with this conversation too.
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The next week turns out to be a tense one. I can't walk past the kitchen without seeing the gaping hole where the cabinet is missing, and Yes Dear can't walk past me without thinking I've lost my marbles. After all, he was only performing his duty as protector of the household when he removed the dangerous, allergy-producing, sickness-invoking mold from our kitchen. Now his wife's on a mission to make his life miserable just because he supervised the removal of said offending piece of property. It wasn't worth a dime all damaged like that anyway.
On Monday, the Prance bounces happily back down the aisle of "Valinor" to the kitchen and bath center, his myriad collection of little countertop chips stored in the plastic Ziploc sandwich baggie clutched firmly in one hand. He parks himself in one of the tall bar chairs in front of the desk where Connie the designer keeps her computer. She's busily typing away and mutters without looking up, "I'll be with you in just a moment, ma'am."
"Okae," answers the Prance, settling himself in and beginning to line all of his chips up on the table in front of him as he ignores her gender confusion. Once he gets them all lined up, he begins the elaborate process of re-arranging them by sliding the chips around on the top of the table, arranging them by color groups.
Connie looks over at him, her attention drawn by the little scraping- sliding noises he's making. Legolas senses her checking him out, though not for the reason you're probably thinking, which may or may not be the reason he's probably thinking. In fact, she's becoming quite annoyed at the disturbance.
"Hae!" greets Prance Helpful. "I baet u wear wundureeng whut tuuk me soe loeng tu coem bak!"
"Not really," she replies, going back to her typing.
Legolas manages to quickly cover up the look of disappointment that crosses his handsome face. He goes back to sliding the chips again, this time arranging them by descending order of the catalog number for each color which is located on a sticker on the back of each chip. Of course, this means the sliding noise is now accompanied by a tiny snick-slap noise as he flips them face down to see the number and another snick-slap as he flips them back color up.
Connie keeps her composure another thirty seconds (about twenty snick- slaps) before closing the computer file she's working on and turning to him.
"May I help you?"
"Oeh, dat'z okae. U goe ahed an feenish whut u're doen," says Prance Helpful with a smile. "I kin wate. I em immoral. . . I hav all da tiem en da world."
Connie just stares at him.
"He means thank you for your time," I cut in. "We're ready to finalize our order."
"Did you bring your specifications?" she asks me.
"Yaes," inserts the Prance, always cooperative. "He'z rite ober dere." He points with one long index finger at Yes Dear, who is currently inspecting the sample kitchen cabinet display inside and out to make sure he knows how it all hooks together.
Connie follows his finger, then looks at me to see if I'm still there. I half expect her to ask me if I'll pinch her to wake her up from this nightmare, but instead she clarifies, "I meant your measurements and color order numbers, honey."
"We goet doze tu," Prance Helpful nods.
With a sigh, Connie tries another approach.
"Which one of the pretty colors did you pick for a countertop, sweetheart?" she asks Legolas, leaning over and looking directly into his blue eyes and speaking a click or two louder on her volume as if maybe he's a bit hard of hearing. It's that coochie-coo voice people use when addressing babies. I half expect her to chuck him under the chin.
He leans forward and meets her volume, raising it by just a notch. "Won of dese," he says, indicating the spread of color chips displayed on the table before him, his eyes twinkling with elven mischief. He catches the tip of his pink tongue between his front teeth.
Uh-oh.
"Well, maybe you could show me which one you think is the prettiest?" she asks in an even sweeter voice laced with just a hint of venom.
I tap him on the shoulder. "Do it now, please," I request.
The princely elven baby-pout appears. "Buet, al! We'ar plaeyn a gaem!" he whines.
"I see that. It's time to show your winning card."
"Aelredy?"
"Yes."
He slumps back in the chair, the pout now at full-throttle. He reaches forward with one hand and swiftly pushes Wilsonart chip # 1741 across to her.
"Legolas! That's not the one we picked!"
"She deedn't aesk me wich won we pikd. She aeskd me wich won I thot wuz da purdiest. Dat'z it."
Verdi Pompeii. Deep marble-ized green, slick and shiny smooth.
"You can't have that one," Connie answers deadpan.
At first I want to smack her. I mean, I've just cramped the Prance in the midst of his best game and made him hand over the goods before his time, and now she wants to egg him on. Then it dawns on me.
She's helping ME.
I tap the Prance on the shoulder again. "Show her your second choice then." No sense asking him to show the one we picked. Can't risk a Galadriel special this afternoon - the smell's too strong to ride all the way home with in a closed-up car.
He reaches out and pushes chip # 1753 to her. Canyon Blu. Nice choice, actually. That would be the one I would have picked as "purdiest".
"You can't have that one either," she continues.
Wait a minute. I LIKE Canyon Blu #1753.
"Why not?" I ask.
"It's marbleized. You can't use that for a kitchen. It shows every little nick and cut. One time with the knife without a cutting board, and your whole effect is just totally ruined."
I pick up the chip and hold it sideways to the light. She's right. The surface is slick-shiny, and it's already got scratches on it just from being snick-slapped a hundred times a day for a week.
Connie reaches out and starts to selectively gather up the slick-shiny countertop rectangle samples from the array Legolas has displayed before her. A flash of pale lightning bolts across the table, a manicured hand arrests her progress.
A sweet elven smile accompanies the words that follow, but a warning flares in the watchful eyes.
"Dose ar mien."
She meets his gaze, then gently sets the chips down in a stack on the table. "Fine. You might as well go ahead and take out the shiny finished ones then." She pulls her hand away from his grasp and turns back to her computer.
It's about this time that Yes Dear appears. He leans over and picks up chip # 7002-60. Natural Butcherblock. He hands it to Connie.
"I refuse to sell you a Butcher Block," she says, turning up her nose and dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "It's entirely too seventies."
Yes Dear stares at me. We both happen to like the butcherblock.
Legolas is beginning to feel a bit threatened by all this handling of his precioussss chips. He gathers them carefully by colors into little stacks before scooping them up in one palm and sticking them into the plastic Ziploc bag, placing them on his lap for protection. He then produces a single chip and makes one last offer.
"We'al taek dis won den."
Mesa Midnight. Color chip # 4518-7.
Excellent.
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Lub Ledders frum Legolas
daw the minstrel: Deed u sea me ried oen da sheeld doewn da staepz? U reemimbur whin I deed dat wid my's graendfaethur'z sheeld en Mirkwood? I goet en soooe muech truble! It'z gunna taek dem abot az loeng tu feex Helm's Deep az it'z gunna taek al tu feex her keetchin. *gievz u a skweez*
Nilmandra: Ur oeffise sowndz purty. Duz it reely hav a pikshur of me oen da waell? Woew. . . .Yaes, Gimli deed reely kael me a powntee eerd elvis preensleeng. He bedder wach it, nekst tiem I mite noet bea suech a guud shoet. *cueddlz u, hoepeeng u feal bedder*
SarWolf Snape: *huegz u bak* Valinor iz noet baed at all! I lub tu goe dere! At leest u huemanz kin goe agin an agin. Elves doen't git tu due dat in Meedle-erth.
JastaElf: **THUED!!** Okay, Jasta, while I'm waiting for him to come around, let me just say if you're thinking about re-doing your kitchen. . . DON'T! *sound of struggling noises comes from the floor* Here, darling, let me give you a hand there. . . *graebz al'z haend an puellz sef entu chaer* Hae, Jasta! Hae, Ada! Soerrie abot remiendeeng u abot da baed thaeng, Ada. I DEED lern aloet dueing dat. U shuld coem doewn an sea deze laewnmoerz, dey're juest da graendist thaeng! If al shoertinz her naem tu "A" kin I bea jest "L"? Oer hoew abot "Him Edhel-ernil-O"? *geeglz an bloewz u boeth a kees*
Michelle 6: Wethur duz noet affekt elves. We doen't ketch coeldz. Tho dat moeld maed me sneaze fur sum reesun, I dunnoe. I lub choklit cheep cuukiez tu! *seandz u a kees*
ariarwen: Eberybuddie sez "Hae, ariarwen!" We deed git a cownturtoep, buet it izn't vary spaerklee. Whin da man puetz it in, I'll spreenkul sum gleetur oen it an spraey it wid dis vaernish wile al izn't luukin.I hoep u hav a guud triep tu Torontoe! *Skweeziz u*
Holly :o) : I'll beat ur ruum iz az purty az u ar. Dat tiel soewndz faebulus. Deed u puet dat oen da waell? U sed u goet neuw kaerpit, soe I thot mebbe da tiel weant oen da waell fur a chaenge. Rite noew I jest hoep da keetchin iz dun bie da tiem I hav tu goe bak tu Meedle-erth. I waent tu sea it tuu! *Huegz u*
Newmoon: Oeh, buet a Baed, Baf, an Beayoend! Oeh, boey! *skweeee!* Dat wuld bea a dreem coem tru if we goet wun of doze arond hear. I lub tu tuch all da toewlz dey hav foeldid jest rite, an tu plae wid all da kuukeeng thaengs like da spaetchulaz an da coallendurz. Da baest paert iz tu saet all da keetchin tiemurz a feuw seacondz apaert an wate fur dem tu all goe oeff *geeglz*
PuterPatty: *snoegz u beafor goen arond an chaengiz da paepur roellz bak tu arond da bak* U puet dat fethur bak. I doen't noe abot u an fethurz. Dat souwndz daengerus. Yaes, haeveeng sumthaeng beeg an poewrful beatwean ur laegz iz an empoertint paert of beaing a mail. Buet den u wuldn't uendurstaend dat. . . . Hey, PP, if somebody would come in and take care of finishing my kitchen in a weekend, I'd jump on that in seconds! I don't care if it looks like the Taj Mahal after they finish, having it all done in two days flat sounds good to me. . . . al, she'z goet a kaemera hidin en hear, duzn't she? *skwatz doewn an staertz peakin en all da caebinitz* Hoew deed she noe whut I ware whin I'm wurkin? * beandz ober an pearz en da friedg* An whut goet all da peekilz?
Leedle Peep: My muthur duezn't draess me. Ur muthur duz! Heahea! Nekzt I baet u waent dis stoerrie tu bea naemd "Da Modren-erth Aedvaentshurz of Leedle Peep an Legolas", doen't u?? *poekz u wid my feengur an taekz ur M an M'z*
SperryDee: I em soe soerrie abot Charlie. I mees her tu. I proemis tu uepdayt loetz faestur, jest beacuz u askd. *Huegz u an gievz u a beeg kees, hoeldz u tite*
Phoenix Flight: al sez tu due ur hoel howse wuld be growndz fur deevoerse. Da moeney izn't az empoertint az haveng a plase of peece an kwiyet. I wuld like tu hep soembuddie bild a howse won dae if dey deedn't hav tu liv dere wile we wurkd oen it. *seandz u a kees*
Writer From Rivendell: Fortunately most everything we had in that area where it started could be cleaned or needed to be discarded anyway. We didn't lose much except the cabinets and the floor, though that's bad enough. U hav daengurus stueff en Cheemastree claess? Oeh, boey! Kin I coem? Puhleeze!? I due speek Sindarin an Quenya, buet dat oerk koemmint in Grey Elvis is tu guud tu paess uep. *kloezez my eyez an keesiz u agin, noew dat ur seextean an ar allowed tu due soe*
anamariaevenstar: Iz dis ur furst tiem tu rite me a lub ledder? Oeh, boey! I'm glaed ur hear. *gievz u a beeg hueg* Noet all faengurlz puell hare, u noe. Sum jest keap peesiz of deefrint kiendz of traeshurz like harebrueshiz an uendurpaentz dat dey fiend en ur traeshbin. U wulndn't due dat, wuld u? *geeglz*
Landos Star: al, she sed I'm kuet! No, she said your SNEEZES were cute, dear. Noe, she sed I'M kuet, sea? *al sighs and looks at the ceiling* Okay, dear, you're cute. We all know that. Hannon le, Landos Star. *blueshiz an gievz u a hueg*
Katani Petitedra: Englash. U lernd abot Englash en Englash class. U noe, Yuel loegz an Fathur Chrestmiss, an Toed en da Hoel, an da Qwean, an Prance Wellium, an Buekenghaem Paelise, an all dat. Englash. *shaekz haed*
Space-Case 7029: *throewz u a kees* We doen't let al taek eni nearve peelz. She'z a rek alredy. U shuld sea her peekin arond da haelwae doar, theenkin we doen't sea her. She iz dreenkin a lot tu. LEGOLAS! Whut? I am NOT drinking a lot! U dreenk a lot of tee, cuz u ar alwaez gittin in da wae reafeelin ur cuep. That's so I can keep an eye. . . Nevermind. *growls at Legolas*
Lady Peredhel: Hey, LP. al here. I showed your comment to Yes Dear about keeping him for a dishwasher and that you thought I rock, and he stood there in the doorway for something close to ten minutes just staring blankly at me. Guess he never considered that possibility came with the marriage license before. I got a real kick out of it myself. It's always nice to know you rock. *grins* Hae, LP! I em glaed tu here u steel like elves. Hoew deed ur daet wid dat hueman guey goe? Deed he at leest taek a baf beafourhaend? *gieves u a hueg*
Chan: *sukz a peekil soe I kin kees u agin, seanse PP duzn't like da taeste* I deedn't noe dat moeld wuld maek me sneaze ethur. My noze ez a loet bedder noew. Dat John! GGGGGUUUUURRRRR! I'd like tu shuut heem wid an aroe. Dat wuz Baaad! U goet a LOTR Peetza Huet meel? Woew! *trowtz oeff tu sea if al weel git PH fur sueppur*
anna: It'z guud tu sea u agin! Remoeduleeng iz noet tuu haerd, an I doen't hav tu paey fur eni of it, soe I gess saeyin it iz fuen iz a guud ideea. *gievz u a beeg skweaze*
Raider-K: Luuk, eberybuddie!! A neuw faengurl!! Hae, Raider-K! I em soe glaed u joyned us. U noe, noebuddie taekz me seariuslee. U'd theenk wid my poezishun as a prance dat sumbueddie wuld reaspekt me, buet nooooeeee. . . . I doen't theenk we weel bea goen tu Deezneewurld, buet dat'z okae. Liveeng wid al iz like Deezneewurld eberydae. *seandz u huegz an keesiz*
Pineapple Princess: al sez thaenkz fur dat pikshur u seant her. Katz ar noet az guud a huenter az dey wuld hav u beeleeve. Dey ar purty laezee, at leest I theenk soe. OOOeeehhh! A wachin paertee! U wuld lub da eggsteandid vearzshun of TTT. Dere'z loetz of eggstrae me en it! *hear'z sum elbin lub fur u*
Tricia: U goet dat rite! Of koerse my stoerree iz da baest noen-faek stoeree oen da net! Kungraedulashunz oen reedeeng da hoel thaeng at da saem tiem, an waelcoem tu da gruup! *gievz u a beeeeeg kees!* Thaenk u fur da mueffin. . . I lub doze bleuwbearry wonz da baest. Deed u git my "faek me" pikshurz yaet?
Miss Aranel: Wekkum bak! U hav bean goen a loeng tiem! I meesd u! *gievz u a beeg hueg* al haz bean a reel worrier an haz noet cryed, at leest noet dat I noew abot. Sumtiemz she duz yaell tho. I wuld like tu sea ur Gander Mowntain stoer. I baet if I praktisd wid da kinue en dere, Gimli wuld siet steel whin I ried arond wid heem. He'z suech a weegul-wurm. He deed duemp us ober wonse. Whut a maess!
Deb: I meanshund whut u sed tu Yeas Deer, an I theenk he weel bea beata reedin moer oeftin. al haz tuw deeshwaeshurz - Yeas Deer an me. I em trien tu teech Leedle Peep, buet she iz tuu smaert tu git her haendz ruffined bie hoet deeshwader. If u theenk "Haellz Baellz" is guud, u shuld sea me rok tu Billee Idul'z "Wite Weaddeng". Noew DAT'Z a site! *daensiz fur u*
raukoiel: Peese owt tu u tuu! I deedn't noew u liv dat klose tu da faemus Moetur Speadwaey en Charlutte! I doen't hav enithang tu due noew dat da seezun iz ober. Deed u goe tu da raciz dere? Whoe iz ur faevurite drievur? I lub da Beeg Broewn Truek! *seandz u a X an a O*
MagicalRachel: Hoem Deapoe iz a loet like Valinor! At leest, I hoep it iz! I hav noet bean tu Valinor yaet. Dat Elbereth keesid cownturtoep wuld stae kleen jest like an elf duz if we haed it en owr howse. I doen't theenk I weel git tu stae tu wurk at Hoem Deapoe, buet I weel keap dat en miend jest in kase, okae? *snuegglz u*
Grammar Laedee: Soerrie dat da keechin wuzn't feenishd whin u caem fur Thaenksgeeving. Mebbe bie Chreestmus? I hoep u wear keeddin abot Leedle Peep eetin my feengur like a weanee. al sed she uzed tu plae da "heez tuchin me" gaem wid her bruthur. Deed she eber eet heez feengur? *gievz u a caerful hueg jest en kase al lernd tu biet feengurz like weeneez frum u*
The Two Princesses: *ketchiz keesiz* Iz it suemmur dere? It iz wientur hear. It snoewd oen us yaesturdae, jest a feuw flaekz. I like ur gittin owt of skuul daense! Woew. . . it tuuk u tuw yeerz tu feenish ur keetchin? Dat muest bea cuz u deedn't hav me tu hep u. *drowpz haemmur oen toae* Owww! Soerrie. Deedn't meen tu yaell. Hearz sum huegz an keesiz fur u tu shaer - xoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxoxoxoxxoxoxoxo. Tael M dat al goet her e-male an weel seand it bak az suun az she kin. Aftur wile, krokadiel!
leail: I mite hav tu giev deze paentz bak. U kin sea my neekapz en deze. U waent dem waeshd furst? *staeggurz bak whin u empakt my chaest tu git ur snoegg, hoepz PP wuzn't luukin*
Cara7: We haed sum snoew whin we weant tu da mowntanz yaesturdae! It wuz vary purty. I sea dat beeg 7 beahiend ur naem noew! U goe gurl! *hie fievz u*
Andy8: I reely waent dat Elbereth keesd won. Dis won iz nise tu tho. U kin ware ur sokz an slied oen it like dis . . . LEGOLAS! GET DOWN FROM THERE! Oooepz. Goetta goe!
VladimirsAngel: OOoooeeh! A dubble skuup! *likz ise creem* Hannon le! Dat sneazin iz goen noew. I noe whut u meen abot Haldir an peenuet budder. He eben uzez it fur . . . *al smacks Legolas on the hand* DON'T YOU SAY IT! Okae, okae. Nebermiend. If u git moeld, u weel git dat neuw keetchin. Da smaell weel maek u due thaengz fur muney. . . . *keesiz u bak*
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That's it for now. The next chapter is ready and we're running out of time! Write back quick so you can get your "lub ledder"!
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas; I am merely the keeper of his virginity. Apparently I'm also his provider of free room and board and anything and everything else his little heart desires while he's staying here. No profit or gain is being made by the mention of any brand names, or even the illusion of any mention of brand names. Even people's names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Since Legolas isn't totally innocent, I left his name real.
Big thanks once again to PuterPatty and leail for the beta services. These chapters just wouldn't be the same without their help. Ya'll just don't know the full extent of my southern-ness without these two Yanks keeping my commas from taking over every one of my thoughts *winks at PP and leail*
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Chapter 17 Games We Play
On Wednesday night, I dash home from work only to dash back out the door again, headed to kid's choir with Lil' Pip, followed by our weekly fellowship dinner with my church family. After dinner, the congregation splits up into study groups. Lil' Pip goes to the children's wing to practice for a play the kids are going to put on for us. Legolas has found his niche in the kitchen, wooing the ladies that cook and helping clean up by dumping all the used tea glasses, rolling up all the paper table cloths, and washing up the silverware. As for Yes Dear and I? Hence comes the evening's highlight - the class for married couples.
We're a rowdy bunch, having already been moved once on the very first night of class for disturbing the other bible study group that was taking place in the room next door to us. Apparently the laughter coming from our class was too much for the serious students who were 'seeing the light' while we were watching our first video in the dark. The giggling stemmed from the fact that when the lights went out, several of the husband-wife teams teasingly switched handholding partners, and the movement sort of took on a life of its own as the switching continued from right to left all the way around the room.
When the lights came back up, the group leader discovered exactly why she seemed to have lost control of her class during a video that was meant to be light-heartedly humorous, but truthfully not deserving of the outright gut-busting chortling that was taking place.
"Alright, alright," she exclaimed, "it's not THAT kind of a marriage class!"
Tonight, we find ourselves giggling again. The topic of discussion is how couples fight. We play a game where we have to guess what our other half would say in answer to questions like, "What's his favorite sport?", "Without looking, what color are her eyes?", and "When is your anniversary?" Yes Dear and I are scoring 100%, getting every single answer right.
When we tally up the scores at the end, Legolas pipes up from the back of the room with, "U tuw wear MFEO."
"MFEO?" I ask. "What's MFEO?"
"Maed Fur Eech Oethur" he answers, sitting there rocking with his chair up on its back legs and his arms crossed over his chest. "PuterPatty tawt me dat."
"That's true, Legolas," pipes in my friend Patsy. "Those two never even fight."
"Yeas dey due," Legolas answers.
"No we don't," I reply.
"Yaes u due," Legolas retorts.
"No we don't!"
"Yes we do," says Yes Dear from my other side.
"WE DO NOT!" I raise my voice. Pausing for a second, I realize I am NOT winning this conversation, so I change tactics with, "So, little elfboy, what in the heck are you doing in this class anyway? Planning something?"
"I herd u geegileeng. I caem tu sea whut u wear laffin abot."
Once class is over, I head to chancel choir practice. Legolas begs off and asks if he can go on home with Yes Dear, wanting to look at his countertop samples again. He spent the afternoon lining them up on top of the old countertop, comparing how they looked in the light on the left side of the kitchen by the refrigerator to how they looked in the light on the right coming from the hood over the stove.
I didn't bother to worry him with the fact that the color of the cabinets was going to change from eggshell to white, and that we would be getting a new stove with one of those ceramic flat tops that doesn't have the coils that always seem to need cleaning, as well as a new range hood and light. We'd also be putting in spotlighting over the sink instead of the fluorescent that resides there now, and even the sink would be different. Sometimes even just a little information is too much, you know?
Later, after spending an hour trying to keep the tenor section from drowning in notes that are slightly off (where is that elf when I need him?), I arrive home to find a hole where the moldy corner cabinet used to be. The butcher block countertop has been sawed straight through, with just enough room for the dish drainer remaining by the sink, its wire rack sort of hanging there suspended by a wing and a prayer. The plywood floor that's exposed now is covered with black slime embedded in the grain of the wood itself, and the whole house smells like a mixture of mildew and something industrial like Mr. Clean. There's even a mark in the drywall by the dish drainer where the saw blade must have slipped and gone right through the painted surface.
"What's going on here?" I demand.
The elven princeling comes bouncing around the corner of the doorway, sliding to a halt in his Joe Boxer white sport socks on the bouncy-squishy linoleum directly in front of me.
"Yaes Deer uzed da POEWER SAEW!" he announces, his eyes wide.
"I see that."
"It'z DIS BEEG!" he continues, holding his hands out shoulder-wide for me to see.
"I know. What happened to my kitchen?"
"It'z all saewd uep!" he exclaims, clapping his hands gleefully.
About this time, Yes Dear himself steps around the doorway.
"Somebody tell me what happened in here while I was gone?" I insist.
"I took out the moldy cabinet like I told you I was going to," he answers.
"You never said anything about cutting up the kitchen," I retort.
"How else did you think I was going to get it out?" he growls.
Hmmmm. I don't think I ever really thought about it. I guess I figured he would just slide the moldy wood part out from under the countertop and it would just stand up there all by itself.
"Well, I certainly didn't think you were going to saw a hole in the wall!" I yell.
"I didn't saw a hole in the wall," he replies.
"Well, there certainly IS a hole in the . . . ." I pause as the full meaning of what he just said sinks in. We must be truly MFEO, because at the exact same instant our eyes turn to the quivering mass of anticipation standing to my left.
"I deed it!" beams Prance Helpful. "I goet tu saew wid da poewer saew, an I cuet a hoel en da waell!"
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Two hours later, it's time for bed and we're still not speaking to each other.
I decide enough's enough, and that it's time to breach the Deeping Wall.
"What were you thinking, letting him use power tools?" I whisper, hoping the elven ears can't hear me through two bedroom walls and half the length of the hallway. "What if he'd slipped and cut himself? What if he'd gotten hurt? It's not like you can run him down to the county hospital to be patched up, you know."
"I know. He's not covered under our insurance."
"That's NOT what I mean, and you know it. He's not human - who knows what the differences in treatment for our races would be? What if he turns out to be allergic to something they give him and has a reaction and it kills him? What will we do then?"
"It was just a simple job. I showed him how to do it, and I was there the whole time. He's a quick learner, and he's quite capable of pushing a button to turn a circular saw on and off all by himself. You let him run the microwave."
"It's NOT the same," I grumble.
"AND the vacuum cleaner. He could crush his toes off with the beater bar if he ran over his foot with that. Or haven't you stopped to consider that possibility yet? And what about the washing machine?"
I'm done with this conversation too.
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The next week turns out to be a tense one. I can't walk past the kitchen without seeing the gaping hole where the cabinet is missing, and Yes Dear can't walk past me without thinking I've lost my marbles. After all, he was only performing his duty as protector of the household when he removed the dangerous, allergy-producing, sickness-invoking mold from our kitchen. Now his wife's on a mission to make his life miserable just because he supervised the removal of said offending piece of property. It wasn't worth a dime all damaged like that anyway.
On Monday, the Prance bounces happily back down the aisle of "Valinor" to the kitchen and bath center, his myriad collection of little countertop chips stored in the plastic Ziploc sandwich baggie clutched firmly in one hand. He parks himself in one of the tall bar chairs in front of the desk where Connie the designer keeps her computer. She's busily typing away and mutters without looking up, "I'll be with you in just a moment, ma'am."
"Okae," answers the Prance, settling himself in and beginning to line all of his chips up on the table in front of him as he ignores her gender confusion. Once he gets them all lined up, he begins the elaborate process of re-arranging them by sliding the chips around on the top of the table, arranging them by color groups.
Connie looks over at him, her attention drawn by the little scraping- sliding noises he's making. Legolas senses her checking him out, though not for the reason you're probably thinking, which may or may not be the reason he's probably thinking. In fact, she's becoming quite annoyed at the disturbance.
"Hae!" greets Prance Helpful. "I baet u wear wundureeng whut tuuk me soe loeng tu coem bak!"
"Not really," she replies, going back to her typing.
Legolas manages to quickly cover up the look of disappointment that crosses his handsome face. He goes back to sliding the chips again, this time arranging them by descending order of the catalog number for each color which is located on a sticker on the back of each chip. Of course, this means the sliding noise is now accompanied by a tiny snick-slap noise as he flips them face down to see the number and another snick-slap as he flips them back color up.
Connie keeps her composure another thirty seconds (about twenty snick- slaps) before closing the computer file she's working on and turning to him.
"May I help you?"
"Oeh, dat'z okae. U goe ahed an feenish whut u're doen," says Prance Helpful with a smile. "I kin wate. I em immoral. . . I hav all da tiem en da world."
Connie just stares at him.
"He means thank you for your time," I cut in. "We're ready to finalize our order."
"Did you bring your specifications?" she asks me.
"Yaes," inserts the Prance, always cooperative. "He'z rite ober dere." He points with one long index finger at Yes Dear, who is currently inspecting the sample kitchen cabinet display inside and out to make sure he knows how it all hooks together.
Connie follows his finger, then looks at me to see if I'm still there. I half expect her to ask me if I'll pinch her to wake her up from this nightmare, but instead she clarifies, "I meant your measurements and color order numbers, honey."
"We goet doze tu," Prance Helpful nods.
With a sigh, Connie tries another approach.
"Which one of the pretty colors did you pick for a countertop, sweetheart?" she asks Legolas, leaning over and looking directly into his blue eyes and speaking a click or two louder on her volume as if maybe he's a bit hard of hearing. It's that coochie-coo voice people use when addressing babies. I half expect her to chuck him under the chin.
He leans forward and meets her volume, raising it by just a notch. "Won of dese," he says, indicating the spread of color chips displayed on the table before him, his eyes twinkling with elven mischief. He catches the tip of his pink tongue between his front teeth.
Uh-oh.
"Well, maybe you could show me which one you think is the prettiest?" she asks in an even sweeter voice laced with just a hint of venom.
I tap him on the shoulder. "Do it now, please," I request.
The princely elven baby-pout appears. "Buet, al! We'ar plaeyn a gaem!" he whines.
"I see that. It's time to show your winning card."
"Aelredy?"
"Yes."
He slumps back in the chair, the pout now at full-throttle. He reaches forward with one hand and swiftly pushes Wilsonart chip # 1741 across to her.
"Legolas! That's not the one we picked!"
"She deedn't aesk me wich won we pikd. She aeskd me wich won I thot wuz da purdiest. Dat'z it."
Verdi Pompeii. Deep marble-ized green, slick and shiny smooth.
"You can't have that one," Connie answers deadpan.
At first I want to smack her. I mean, I've just cramped the Prance in the midst of his best game and made him hand over the goods before his time, and now she wants to egg him on. Then it dawns on me.
She's helping ME.
I tap the Prance on the shoulder again. "Show her your second choice then." No sense asking him to show the one we picked. Can't risk a Galadriel special this afternoon - the smell's too strong to ride all the way home with in a closed-up car.
He reaches out and pushes chip # 1753 to her. Canyon Blu. Nice choice, actually. That would be the one I would have picked as "purdiest".
"You can't have that one either," she continues.
Wait a minute. I LIKE Canyon Blu #1753.
"Why not?" I ask.
"It's marbleized. You can't use that for a kitchen. It shows every little nick and cut. One time with the knife without a cutting board, and your whole effect is just totally ruined."
I pick up the chip and hold it sideways to the light. She's right. The surface is slick-shiny, and it's already got scratches on it just from being snick-slapped a hundred times a day for a week.
Connie reaches out and starts to selectively gather up the slick-shiny countertop rectangle samples from the array Legolas has displayed before her. A flash of pale lightning bolts across the table, a manicured hand arrests her progress.
A sweet elven smile accompanies the words that follow, but a warning flares in the watchful eyes.
"Dose ar mien."
She meets his gaze, then gently sets the chips down in a stack on the table. "Fine. You might as well go ahead and take out the shiny finished ones then." She pulls her hand away from his grasp and turns back to her computer.
It's about this time that Yes Dear appears. He leans over and picks up chip # 7002-60. Natural Butcherblock. He hands it to Connie.
"I refuse to sell you a Butcher Block," she says, turning up her nose and dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "It's entirely too seventies."
Yes Dear stares at me. We both happen to like the butcherblock.
Legolas is beginning to feel a bit threatened by all this handling of his precioussss chips. He gathers them carefully by colors into little stacks before scooping them up in one palm and sticking them into the plastic Ziploc bag, placing them on his lap for protection. He then produces a single chip and makes one last offer.
"We'al taek dis won den."
Mesa Midnight. Color chip # 4518-7.
Excellent.
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Lub Ledders frum Legolas
daw the minstrel: Deed u sea me ried oen da sheeld doewn da staepz? U reemimbur whin I deed dat wid my's graendfaethur'z sheeld en Mirkwood? I goet en soooe muech truble! It'z gunna taek dem abot az loeng tu feex Helm's Deep az it'z gunna taek al tu feex her keetchin. *gievz u a skweez*
Nilmandra: Ur oeffise sowndz purty. Duz it reely hav a pikshur of me oen da waell? Woew. . . .Yaes, Gimli deed reely kael me a powntee eerd elvis preensleeng. He bedder wach it, nekst tiem I mite noet bea suech a guud shoet. *cueddlz u, hoepeeng u feal bedder*
SarWolf Snape: *huegz u bak* Valinor iz noet baed at all! I lub tu goe dere! At leest u huemanz kin goe agin an agin. Elves doen't git tu due dat in Meedle-erth.
JastaElf: **THUED!!** Okay, Jasta, while I'm waiting for him to come around, let me just say if you're thinking about re-doing your kitchen. . . DON'T! *sound of struggling noises comes from the floor* Here, darling, let me give you a hand there. . . *graebz al'z haend an puellz sef entu chaer* Hae, Jasta! Hae, Ada! Soerrie abot remiendeeng u abot da baed thaeng, Ada. I DEED lern aloet dueing dat. U shuld coem doewn an sea deze laewnmoerz, dey're juest da graendist thaeng! If al shoertinz her naem tu "A" kin I bea jest "L"? Oer hoew abot "Him Edhel-ernil-O"? *geeglz an bloewz u boeth a kees*
Michelle 6: Wethur duz noet affekt elves. We doen't ketch coeldz. Tho dat moeld maed me sneaze fur sum reesun, I dunnoe. I lub choklit cheep cuukiez tu! *seandz u a kees*
ariarwen: Eberybuddie sez "Hae, ariarwen!" We deed git a cownturtoep, buet it izn't vary spaerklee. Whin da man puetz it in, I'll spreenkul sum gleetur oen it an spraey it wid dis vaernish wile al izn't luukin.I hoep u hav a guud triep tu Torontoe! *Skweeziz u*
Holly :o) : I'll beat ur ruum iz az purty az u ar. Dat tiel soewndz faebulus. Deed u puet dat oen da waell? U sed u goet neuw kaerpit, soe I thot mebbe da tiel weant oen da waell fur a chaenge. Rite noew I jest hoep da keetchin iz dun bie da tiem I hav tu goe bak tu Meedle-erth. I waent tu sea it tuu! *Huegz u*
Newmoon: Oeh, buet a Baed, Baf, an Beayoend! Oeh, boey! *skweeee!* Dat wuld bea a dreem coem tru if we goet wun of doze arond hear. I lub tu tuch all da toewlz dey hav foeldid jest rite, an tu plae wid all da kuukeeng thaengs like da spaetchulaz an da coallendurz. Da baest paert iz tu saet all da keetchin tiemurz a feuw seacondz apaert an wate fur dem tu all goe oeff *geeglz*
PuterPatty: *snoegz u beafor goen arond an chaengiz da paepur roellz bak tu arond da bak* U puet dat fethur bak. I doen't noe abot u an fethurz. Dat souwndz daengerus. Yaes, haeveeng sumthaeng beeg an poewrful beatwean ur laegz iz an empoertint paert of beaing a mail. Buet den u wuldn't uendurstaend dat. . . . Hey, PP, if somebody would come in and take care of finishing my kitchen in a weekend, I'd jump on that in seconds! I don't care if it looks like the Taj Mahal after they finish, having it all done in two days flat sounds good to me. . . . al, she'z goet a kaemera hidin en hear, duzn't she? *skwatz doewn an staertz peakin en all da caebinitz* Hoew deed she noe whut I ware whin I'm wurkin? * beandz ober an pearz en da friedg* An whut goet all da peekilz?
Leedle Peep: My muthur duezn't draess me. Ur muthur duz! Heahea! Nekzt I baet u waent dis stoerrie tu bea naemd "Da Modren-erth Aedvaentshurz of Leedle Peep an Legolas", doen't u?? *poekz u wid my feengur an taekz ur M an M'z*
SperryDee: I em soe soerrie abot Charlie. I mees her tu. I proemis tu uepdayt loetz faestur, jest beacuz u askd. *Huegz u an gievz u a beeg kees, hoeldz u tite*
Phoenix Flight: al sez tu due ur hoel howse wuld be growndz fur deevoerse. Da moeney izn't az empoertint az haveng a plase of peece an kwiyet. I wuld like tu hep soembuddie bild a howse won dae if dey deedn't hav tu liv dere wile we wurkd oen it. *seandz u a kees*
Writer From Rivendell: Fortunately most everything we had in that area where it started could be cleaned or needed to be discarded anyway. We didn't lose much except the cabinets and the floor, though that's bad enough. U hav daengurus stueff en Cheemastree claess? Oeh, boey! Kin I coem? Puhleeze!? I due speek Sindarin an Quenya, buet dat oerk koemmint in Grey Elvis is tu guud tu paess uep. *kloezez my eyez an keesiz u agin, noew dat ur seextean an ar allowed tu due soe*
anamariaevenstar: Iz dis ur furst tiem tu rite me a lub ledder? Oeh, boey! I'm glaed ur hear. *gievz u a beeg hueg* Noet all faengurlz puell hare, u noe. Sum jest keap peesiz of deefrint kiendz of traeshurz like harebrueshiz an uendurpaentz dat dey fiend en ur traeshbin. U wulndn't due dat, wuld u? *geeglz*
Landos Star: al, she sed I'm kuet! No, she said your SNEEZES were cute, dear. Noe, she sed I'M kuet, sea? *al sighs and looks at the ceiling* Okay, dear, you're cute. We all know that. Hannon le, Landos Star. *blueshiz an gievz u a hueg*
Katani Petitedra: Englash. U lernd abot Englash en Englash class. U noe, Yuel loegz an Fathur Chrestmiss, an Toed en da Hoel, an da Qwean, an Prance Wellium, an Buekenghaem Paelise, an all dat. Englash. *shaekz haed*
Space-Case 7029: *throewz u a kees* We doen't let al taek eni nearve peelz. She'z a rek alredy. U shuld sea her peekin arond da haelwae doar, theenkin we doen't sea her. She iz dreenkin a lot tu. LEGOLAS! Whut? I am NOT drinking a lot! U dreenk a lot of tee, cuz u ar alwaez gittin in da wae reafeelin ur cuep. That's so I can keep an eye. . . Nevermind. *growls at Legolas*
Lady Peredhel: Hey, LP. al here. I showed your comment to Yes Dear about keeping him for a dishwasher and that you thought I rock, and he stood there in the doorway for something close to ten minutes just staring blankly at me. Guess he never considered that possibility came with the marriage license before. I got a real kick out of it myself. It's always nice to know you rock. *grins* Hae, LP! I em glaed tu here u steel like elves. Hoew deed ur daet wid dat hueman guey goe? Deed he at leest taek a baf beafourhaend? *gieves u a hueg*
Chan: *sukz a peekil soe I kin kees u agin, seanse PP duzn't like da taeste* I deedn't noe dat moeld wuld maek me sneaze ethur. My noze ez a loet bedder noew. Dat John! GGGGGUUUUURRRRR! I'd like tu shuut heem wid an aroe. Dat wuz Baaad! U goet a LOTR Peetza Huet meel? Woew! *trowtz oeff tu sea if al weel git PH fur sueppur*
anna: It'z guud tu sea u agin! Remoeduleeng iz noet tuu haerd, an I doen't hav tu paey fur eni of it, soe I gess saeyin it iz fuen iz a guud ideea. *gievz u a beeg skweaze*
Raider-K: Luuk, eberybuddie!! A neuw faengurl!! Hae, Raider-K! I em soe glaed u joyned us. U noe, noebuddie taekz me seariuslee. U'd theenk wid my poezishun as a prance dat sumbueddie wuld reaspekt me, buet nooooeeee. . . . I doen't theenk we weel bea goen tu Deezneewurld, buet dat'z okae. Liveeng wid al iz like Deezneewurld eberydae. *seandz u huegz an keesiz*
Pineapple Princess: al sez thaenkz fur dat pikshur u seant her. Katz ar noet az guud a huenter az dey wuld hav u beeleeve. Dey ar purty laezee, at leest I theenk soe. OOOeeehhh! A wachin paertee! U wuld lub da eggsteandid vearzshun of TTT. Dere'z loetz of eggstrae me en it! *hear'z sum elbin lub fur u*
Tricia: U goet dat rite! Of koerse my stoerree iz da baest noen-faek stoeree oen da net! Kungraedulashunz oen reedeeng da hoel thaeng at da saem tiem, an waelcoem tu da gruup! *gievz u a beeeeeg kees!* Thaenk u fur da mueffin. . . I lub doze bleuwbearry wonz da baest. Deed u git my "faek me" pikshurz yaet?
Miss Aranel: Wekkum bak! U hav bean goen a loeng tiem! I meesd u! *gievz u a beeg hueg* al haz bean a reel worrier an haz noet cryed, at leest noet dat I noew abot. Sumtiemz she duz yaell tho. I wuld like tu sea ur Gander Mowntain stoer. I baet if I praktisd wid da kinue en dere, Gimli wuld siet steel whin I ried arond wid heem. He'z suech a weegul-wurm. He deed duemp us ober wonse. Whut a maess!
Deb: I meanshund whut u sed tu Yeas Deer, an I theenk he weel bea beata reedin moer oeftin. al haz tuw deeshwaeshurz - Yeas Deer an me. I em trien tu teech Leedle Peep, buet she iz tuu smaert tu git her haendz ruffined bie hoet deeshwader. If u theenk "Haellz Baellz" is guud, u shuld sea me rok tu Billee Idul'z "Wite Weaddeng". Noew DAT'Z a site! *daensiz fur u*
raukoiel: Peese owt tu u tuu! I deedn't noew u liv dat klose tu da faemus Moetur Speadwaey en Charlutte! I doen't hav enithang tu due noew dat da seezun iz ober. Deed u goe tu da raciz dere? Whoe iz ur faevurite drievur? I lub da Beeg Broewn Truek! *seandz u a X an a O*
MagicalRachel: Hoem Deapoe iz a loet like Valinor! At leest, I hoep it iz! I hav noet bean tu Valinor yaet. Dat Elbereth keesid cownturtoep wuld stae kleen jest like an elf duz if we haed it en owr howse. I doen't theenk I weel git tu stae tu wurk at Hoem Deapoe, buet I weel keap dat en miend jest in kase, okae? *snuegglz u*
Grammar Laedee: Soerrie dat da keechin wuzn't feenishd whin u caem fur Thaenksgeeving. Mebbe bie Chreestmus? I hoep u wear keeddin abot Leedle Peep eetin my feengur like a weanee. al sed she uzed tu plae da "heez tuchin me" gaem wid her bruthur. Deed she eber eet heez feengur? *gievz u a caerful hueg jest en kase al lernd tu biet feengurz like weeneez frum u*
The Two Princesses: *ketchiz keesiz* Iz it suemmur dere? It iz wientur hear. It snoewd oen us yaesturdae, jest a feuw flaekz. I like ur gittin owt of skuul daense! Woew. . . it tuuk u tuw yeerz tu feenish ur keetchin? Dat muest bea cuz u deedn't hav me tu hep u. *drowpz haemmur oen toae* Owww! Soerrie. Deedn't meen tu yaell. Hearz sum huegz an keesiz fur u tu shaer - xoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxoxoxoxxoxoxoxo. Tael M dat al goet her e-male an weel seand it bak az suun az she kin. Aftur wile, krokadiel!
leail: I mite hav tu giev deze paentz bak. U kin sea my neekapz en deze. U waent dem waeshd furst? *staeggurz bak whin u empakt my chaest tu git ur snoegg, hoepz PP wuzn't luukin*
Cara7: We haed sum snoew whin we weant tu da mowntanz yaesturdae! It wuz vary purty. I sea dat beeg 7 beahiend ur naem noew! U goe gurl! *hie fievz u*
Andy8: I reely waent dat Elbereth keesd won. Dis won iz nise tu tho. U kin ware ur sokz an slied oen it like dis . . . LEGOLAS! GET DOWN FROM THERE! Oooepz. Goetta goe!
VladimirsAngel: OOoooeeh! A dubble skuup! *likz ise creem* Hannon le! Dat sneazin iz goen noew. I noe whut u meen abot Haldir an peenuet budder. He eben uzez it fur . . . *al smacks Legolas on the hand* DON'T YOU SAY IT! Okae, okae. Nebermiend. If u git moeld, u weel git dat neuw keetchin. Da smaell weel maek u due thaengz fur muney. . . . *keesiz u bak*
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That's it for now. The next chapter is ready and we're running out of time! Write back quick so you can get your "lub ledder"!