A/N: Yo! Sorry I took so long. Hope you like it ^_^
A Punk Kid
I lay awake in my room staring at my ceiling. Quite a feat considering I was on my couch when I dozed off. It was night, that much I could tell. I looked at my clock and it showed only about 5 pm. Not very late at all. I felt slightly better, but not by much.
I heard noises from the living room and thought maybe mother would be home, or even Emily. But if that were so, the noises would be more like screaming and bashing. These were softer more quiet noises.
Once I felt enough will power to get up, I walked silently into the hall towards the doorway to the living room. The T.V. was on and he sat on the chair, slightly turned to the T.V. I was behind him, staring at his profile. The remote was lay next to him on a table. These elves have a way of adapting to their surroundings pretty fast. Maybe he thought it was a mirror looking glass, such as Galadriel used. The news spoke of the snow and how deep it was in our area, about 5 feet deep now. Then it went on to talk about how the schools and businesses were snowed in. I felt terribly sorry for Emily; after all she is my baby sister. I'm only older then her by a year though.
I smiled slightly when I saw he got a hold on Emily's hairbrushes. He sat with great posture the brushes lay on either side of him; his hair lay streaming down his back with no breads. It was slightly parted at the hairline and falling gently down figuring his face. I couldn't help but to think of a 16-year-old punk child when I saw him.
With his fair face and the way his hair was at the time he just reminded me of ravers or punks. A most evil idea crept into my head, I grinned slightly. Then smugly brushed the thought out of my head. 'No,' I thought, 'But then again… an elf… in school…' I laughed slightly catching his attention.
His head shifted slightly towards the hallway, his hair flinging faintly, I ducked into the hall and walked quickly back to my room.
As I reached for my doorknob I turned to see him standing behind me. I banged my head into the door and cursed under my breath.
"I see you're awake," he said with a smile. I opened my door and jumped into my bed. He followed of course. I swear, this guy is like a puppy! "Are you feeling any better?" he asked sincerely.
"What do you want to eat?" I asked from under my covers.
"Anything will do. As long has I don't have to watch an animals be slaughter. But tell me? Where would you find creatures in a storm suck as this?"
How to explain this to an elf? "There is uh… food is bought at a store or er trader that exchanges money for the food and other products."
I knew he didn't understand by the awkward silence that came after my answer, but he never spoke of it again. He lifted me into his arms and carried me out to the living room and placed my on the couch. I stared at him as he walked over to the chair and sat down and resumed grooming his hair.
I got up and made my way into the kitchen. I rummage through some cabinets and pulled out a frying pan, a bowl and a mixing spoon. I was cooking! The dish…. Pancakes.
I walked to the feudatory and pulled out eggs and buttermilk. I found an old box of pancake mix. I poured the eggs, mix, buttermilk, and other things I need into the bowl and stirred. I put the stove burner on high and placed the frying pan on it.
I heard him behind and I turned. His hair was back to normal and his eyes were fixed on the burners on the stove. He walked swiftly over to the stove and stared at the burner. He moved the frying pan and moved his hand over the burner.
"Fire," he muttered moving his hand closer to the blaze.
"I wouldn't do that…… if I were you…." His hand hit the fire; he jumped back dropping the frying pan and whimpered slightly. I grabbed his hand and looked at it. It was burnt pretty badly. I stroked it softly and he winced in pain. I gave a huge sigh and lead him over to the sink. I turned the faucet on and placed his hand under it.
"Keep it under the water," I told him and walked to the bathroom for the first-aid kit. When I came back, his body was hunched over the sink the water pouring over his hand.
"How did you do that? Some sort of magic?" he asked not even looking to see if I was there.
"It called indoor plumping." He reminded me of a child that knew nothing of the world. "There's something that's called pipes that bring the water from the river or lakes right into your home. No magic at all, I'm afraid there is no such thing."
"What a strange world this is, indeed." He sighed, "But do not say there is no magic. I can feel it. I feel it in the trees, in animals, in you. It's all around us, part of us. It's part of me, and part of you. That is how the world is connected. "
I said no more. What could be said to a remark like that? Not very much.
I took out some of medicine for burns and applied it to his hand. He didn't kick or whine, but I knew that he was in much pain. "Don't touch it for a while," I told him.
I placed the medicine back into the first-aid kit and picked up the frying pan. He looked into my eyes and I felt odd again. There was something about how he looked at people. It would make you melt if you were weak in the heart. But I, on the other hand, am strong minded and strong willed and more stubborn then an ox. Go me.
I looked away and put the pan back on the burner. I grabbed the kit and hurried to the bathroom to put it back. I walked back into the kitchen and saw Legolas sitting on one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter. His head was hung low and his burnt left hand in his right hand. I grabbed the bowl of mix and made the pancakes.
When I was done, I flapped them down on the plates and covered them in butter and syrup, knowing he had no idea what to do with it if I just gave it to him plainly. I've always loved buttermilk pancakes so of course I made that kind. But I think that was implied by the buttermilk I poured in earlier.
I walked into the dinning room with the plates in hand and placed them at opposite sides of the table. I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed forks, butter knives, cups and a pitcher of Orange Juice. When I got back to the dinning room, he was sitting in the opposite side of the table from where I was standing. He stared down at the food I had made and then looked back at me.
"What is this?" He asked me.
"Pancakes..." I sat down in my seat and poured the juice into the cups. After showing him how to cut and eat the pancakes, the meal was pretty much silent.
"Tell me," he said at one point during the meal, "How is it that you came to be attacked by that one human child."
"She's just some girl I do not get along with," I muttered. He heard me of course.
"It isn't very right of her to call on her acquaintances like that," he said looking up at me.
"You think?" I said sarcastically. "She's had in for me since I started school there." My head wondered back to the idea I had earlier. It would be pretty sweet to have an elf on your side. But what if he ended up taking Tami's side just like Edward? I was sickened by that thought.
I dropped my fork on my plate and got up to clean. He offered to help, but I turned him down. I told him to go back into the living room and just wait for me. Who knows what kind of trouble he would have gotten into if I let him clean. To much trouble if you ask me.
When I was done I walked back into the living room and watched him for what seemed like an hour. In reality it couldn't have been longer then a few seconds. It seemed like he didn't see me, but I knew better. I sat down on the love seat, so I was the furthest away from him without leaving the room. I looked over at his weapons.
"What will happen when your family comes back?" he asked, not even looking at me. I think he started to sense my resentment towards him.
"I'm not sure," I sighed. I thought I was losing the only person that would ever care, all because of my stubborn pride. At that time, I don't think I really cared. Things like 'go ahead leave!' and 'your just like everyone else' ran through my head. I felt my rage boil but I kept it under control. My eyes narrowed on him as I bit my lip.
"I'm not going to leave you. Not like your father did or Edward. I promise," he said, still not looking at me.
I stared at him in shock, then my heart grew weak and I got up. I pretended not to care about what he said or thought. I walked back towards my room.
"Don't forget to put Emily's brushes back." I said as I disappeared around the corner.
"Stop." I don't know if I heard it in head or it was coming very faintly from the living room, but I stopped. I wanted so badly to just to hurt him for talking about my father. He had no right. None what so ever, but he did anyway. Why? If he knew about my father then wouldn't he understand that I didn't want to talk about it at all? I turned around and walked back into the living room.
"What do you want?" I asked coldly.
He stood and turned to me. "Why do you hate the world for your father's death?" he asked.
I had enough. I ran at him. I don't know what was running through my head. I knew I would never win. I just hated him so much then. He should have never spoken a word about my father. As I got closer to him, his expression didn't change. When I dove at him he did try to move or dodge. He just took me into his arms, like he knew what he said would provoked me like a wild animal would be provoked.
"You have no right!" I yelled at him. My heart was pounding and I felt so foolish then, like a child of only 7 or 8. In reality I'm 16. I pulled on his tunic as I yelled cuss words at him. Then suddenly, with out warning, my heart sank and I dropped to my knees. He sat down and placed his hand on my shoulder.
"If you truly wanted to hurt me you would have gone of my knife." I looked up at him. I didn't want to hurt him THAT badly.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.
"Just now you wanted to hurt me, did you not?" He said as he leaned back against the chair. It almost seem like he was pleased with himself.
I stood and slapped him. "Don't you dare talk about my father again," I told him.
His eyes stared at me in shock. He put his right hand to his cheek and felt the area where I slapped him. He didn't do anything to get back at me. I guess part of him felt sorry for me. Pity from an elf, now there's something I can be proud.
I walked back into my room and slammed the door behind me. I sat on my bed and stared at the ground. My eyes burned but I wouldn't let myself cry. I felt so bad now. And there was no way that I could think of that would make him forgive me.
A/N: Am i making this to stupid? should I rewrite it so he doesn't seem soo.. mean? I dunno.. Review and tell me what you think.
A Punk Kid
I lay awake in my room staring at my ceiling. Quite a feat considering I was on my couch when I dozed off. It was night, that much I could tell. I looked at my clock and it showed only about 5 pm. Not very late at all. I felt slightly better, but not by much.
I heard noises from the living room and thought maybe mother would be home, or even Emily. But if that were so, the noises would be more like screaming and bashing. These were softer more quiet noises.
Once I felt enough will power to get up, I walked silently into the hall towards the doorway to the living room. The T.V. was on and he sat on the chair, slightly turned to the T.V. I was behind him, staring at his profile. The remote was lay next to him on a table. These elves have a way of adapting to their surroundings pretty fast. Maybe he thought it was a mirror looking glass, such as Galadriel used. The news spoke of the snow and how deep it was in our area, about 5 feet deep now. Then it went on to talk about how the schools and businesses were snowed in. I felt terribly sorry for Emily; after all she is my baby sister. I'm only older then her by a year though.
I smiled slightly when I saw he got a hold on Emily's hairbrushes. He sat with great posture the brushes lay on either side of him; his hair lay streaming down his back with no breads. It was slightly parted at the hairline and falling gently down figuring his face. I couldn't help but to think of a 16-year-old punk child when I saw him.
With his fair face and the way his hair was at the time he just reminded me of ravers or punks. A most evil idea crept into my head, I grinned slightly. Then smugly brushed the thought out of my head. 'No,' I thought, 'But then again… an elf… in school…' I laughed slightly catching his attention.
His head shifted slightly towards the hallway, his hair flinging faintly, I ducked into the hall and walked quickly back to my room.
As I reached for my doorknob I turned to see him standing behind me. I banged my head into the door and cursed under my breath.
"I see you're awake," he said with a smile. I opened my door and jumped into my bed. He followed of course. I swear, this guy is like a puppy! "Are you feeling any better?" he asked sincerely.
"What do you want to eat?" I asked from under my covers.
"Anything will do. As long has I don't have to watch an animals be slaughter. But tell me? Where would you find creatures in a storm suck as this?"
How to explain this to an elf? "There is uh… food is bought at a store or er trader that exchanges money for the food and other products."
I knew he didn't understand by the awkward silence that came after my answer, but he never spoke of it again. He lifted me into his arms and carried me out to the living room and placed my on the couch. I stared at him as he walked over to the chair and sat down and resumed grooming his hair.
I got up and made my way into the kitchen. I rummage through some cabinets and pulled out a frying pan, a bowl and a mixing spoon. I was cooking! The dish…. Pancakes.
I walked to the feudatory and pulled out eggs and buttermilk. I found an old box of pancake mix. I poured the eggs, mix, buttermilk, and other things I need into the bowl and stirred. I put the stove burner on high and placed the frying pan on it.
I heard him behind and I turned. His hair was back to normal and his eyes were fixed on the burners on the stove. He walked swiftly over to the stove and stared at the burner. He moved the frying pan and moved his hand over the burner.
"Fire," he muttered moving his hand closer to the blaze.
"I wouldn't do that…… if I were you…." His hand hit the fire; he jumped back dropping the frying pan and whimpered slightly. I grabbed his hand and looked at it. It was burnt pretty badly. I stroked it softly and he winced in pain. I gave a huge sigh and lead him over to the sink. I turned the faucet on and placed his hand under it.
"Keep it under the water," I told him and walked to the bathroom for the first-aid kit. When I came back, his body was hunched over the sink the water pouring over his hand.
"How did you do that? Some sort of magic?" he asked not even looking to see if I was there.
"It called indoor plumping." He reminded me of a child that knew nothing of the world. "There's something that's called pipes that bring the water from the river or lakes right into your home. No magic at all, I'm afraid there is no such thing."
"What a strange world this is, indeed." He sighed, "But do not say there is no magic. I can feel it. I feel it in the trees, in animals, in you. It's all around us, part of us. It's part of me, and part of you. That is how the world is connected. "
I said no more. What could be said to a remark like that? Not very much.
I took out some of medicine for burns and applied it to his hand. He didn't kick or whine, but I knew that he was in much pain. "Don't touch it for a while," I told him.
I placed the medicine back into the first-aid kit and picked up the frying pan. He looked into my eyes and I felt odd again. There was something about how he looked at people. It would make you melt if you were weak in the heart. But I, on the other hand, am strong minded and strong willed and more stubborn then an ox. Go me.
I looked away and put the pan back on the burner. I grabbed the kit and hurried to the bathroom to put it back. I walked back into the kitchen and saw Legolas sitting on one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter. His head was hung low and his burnt left hand in his right hand. I grabbed the bowl of mix and made the pancakes.
When I was done, I flapped them down on the plates and covered them in butter and syrup, knowing he had no idea what to do with it if I just gave it to him plainly. I've always loved buttermilk pancakes so of course I made that kind. But I think that was implied by the buttermilk I poured in earlier.
I walked into the dinning room with the plates in hand and placed them at opposite sides of the table. I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed forks, butter knives, cups and a pitcher of Orange Juice. When I got back to the dinning room, he was sitting in the opposite side of the table from where I was standing. He stared down at the food I had made and then looked back at me.
"What is this?" He asked me.
"Pancakes..." I sat down in my seat and poured the juice into the cups. After showing him how to cut and eat the pancakes, the meal was pretty much silent.
"Tell me," he said at one point during the meal, "How is it that you came to be attacked by that one human child."
"She's just some girl I do not get along with," I muttered. He heard me of course.
"It isn't very right of her to call on her acquaintances like that," he said looking up at me.
"You think?" I said sarcastically. "She's had in for me since I started school there." My head wondered back to the idea I had earlier. It would be pretty sweet to have an elf on your side. But what if he ended up taking Tami's side just like Edward? I was sickened by that thought.
I dropped my fork on my plate and got up to clean. He offered to help, but I turned him down. I told him to go back into the living room and just wait for me. Who knows what kind of trouble he would have gotten into if I let him clean. To much trouble if you ask me.
When I was done I walked back into the living room and watched him for what seemed like an hour. In reality it couldn't have been longer then a few seconds. It seemed like he didn't see me, but I knew better. I sat down on the love seat, so I was the furthest away from him without leaving the room. I looked over at his weapons.
"What will happen when your family comes back?" he asked, not even looking at me. I think he started to sense my resentment towards him.
"I'm not sure," I sighed. I thought I was losing the only person that would ever care, all because of my stubborn pride. At that time, I don't think I really cared. Things like 'go ahead leave!' and 'your just like everyone else' ran through my head. I felt my rage boil but I kept it under control. My eyes narrowed on him as I bit my lip.
"I'm not going to leave you. Not like your father did or Edward. I promise," he said, still not looking at me.
I stared at him in shock, then my heart grew weak and I got up. I pretended not to care about what he said or thought. I walked back towards my room.
"Don't forget to put Emily's brushes back." I said as I disappeared around the corner.
"Stop." I don't know if I heard it in head or it was coming very faintly from the living room, but I stopped. I wanted so badly to just to hurt him for talking about my father. He had no right. None what so ever, but he did anyway. Why? If he knew about my father then wouldn't he understand that I didn't want to talk about it at all? I turned around and walked back into the living room.
"What do you want?" I asked coldly.
He stood and turned to me. "Why do you hate the world for your father's death?" he asked.
I had enough. I ran at him. I don't know what was running through my head. I knew I would never win. I just hated him so much then. He should have never spoken a word about my father. As I got closer to him, his expression didn't change. When I dove at him he did try to move or dodge. He just took me into his arms, like he knew what he said would provoked me like a wild animal would be provoked.
"You have no right!" I yelled at him. My heart was pounding and I felt so foolish then, like a child of only 7 or 8. In reality I'm 16. I pulled on his tunic as I yelled cuss words at him. Then suddenly, with out warning, my heart sank and I dropped to my knees. He sat down and placed his hand on my shoulder.
"If you truly wanted to hurt me you would have gone of my knife." I looked up at him. I didn't want to hurt him THAT badly.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.
"Just now you wanted to hurt me, did you not?" He said as he leaned back against the chair. It almost seem like he was pleased with himself.
I stood and slapped him. "Don't you dare talk about my father again," I told him.
His eyes stared at me in shock. He put his right hand to his cheek and felt the area where I slapped him. He didn't do anything to get back at me. I guess part of him felt sorry for me. Pity from an elf, now there's something I can be proud.
I walked back into my room and slammed the door behind me. I sat on my bed and stared at the ground. My eyes burned but I wouldn't let myself cry. I felt so bad now. And there was no way that I could think of that would make him forgive me.
A/N: Am i making this to stupid? should I rewrite it so he doesn't seem soo.. mean? I dunno.. Review and tell me what you think.