I know, I know. I take far too long to write but email my bloody teachers
about...Grrrrrrr. I HATE homework.
Chapter Eight
Piercing screams cut through the air of a lazy Rohirrim maid's afternoon. Startled, she jumped up out of her high-backed armchair, flicked her amber hair out of her steely eyes, and ran with as much dignity as possible to her round window.
A scene of carnage and fallen warriors was spread out like a picnic beneath her window. The maid turned to call for help as she saw a strange object flying towards her open window. Squinting against the setting sun, she could have sworn she saw the thing quiver, like a blob of clear healing salve. Frowning slightly, she leaned forward and screamed as the thing whizzed over her head onto her bed. Jumping and doing a 180 degree turn, Faeli discovered that a MUDBALL was splattered all over her riding gear. Checking one last time out the window to confirm her suspicions, she slipped on an old hooded cloak and swept out her door to the corral, all the while voices in her head muttered....
'Stupid bastards got my tack dirty...
'They deserve to meet my friend, Mr. Horse crap...'
And things of that sort.
Scooping up an especially goopy piece of mud, Miriel turned from her vantage point on her new horse. Eyes sweeping over the battle field, she spotted a vulnerable elf, kneeling down to retrieve some mud. With a feral grin, she nudged her mare in a silent canter and came up behind the elf. Raising her arm slightly, she fired her missile, which landed in the elf's once perfect hair. Slowly, deliberately, he- it was a definite he- turned and looked her straight in the eye. The corners of his lips twitched into an impish smile.
"I do believe you just messed up my hair." The laughter was barely contained in his light, fluid voice."
Miriel shrugged. "A moment worthy of a tapestry, I will admit."
"I am going to have to get you very, very muddy."
"Ooh, the terror. I'm quaking in my traveling shoes."
Pushing a glob of horse manure out of his hair, Legolas gave a mock-bow. Miriel mud-balled him again. The opportunity was far too good to pass up. A resigned sigh escaped his lips. "I will just have to bombard you with adoration until you surrender, won't I?" Miriel fled, shrieking like a harpy with her tale on fire.
He shrugged. "I wasn't completely joking," he whispered to himself, thoughtfully. The sight of his completely clean sister diverted his thoughts. It was time to formulate a plan.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jumping over the fallen bodies of her Elven comrades, Miriel made her way over to a particularly large, rancid pile of horse manure. 'Perfect. Ewen is far too clean for her own good. It is my sworn duty as a friend to save her from a terrible, clean fate. I have to do it.'
Halting her mare without reins, Miriel slid off and stalked quietly towards the pile of crap. Wincing slightly, she dug her hands into it and grabbed a large ball. 'Just think Miriel, it will probably clear up your complexion, not that you care.'
Holding the missile as far from her body as possible, Miriel grabbed the silky mane of her horse and gracefully deposited herself on its back. 'I really must name you, that way when I make Ewen surrender after covering her in manure, she can fully praise you and grovel. Great times, melamin, great times.' Cantering onward she appraised heroic names in her head.
'Hmmmm.......something queen would fit you.........not black queen...you aren't evil...red- no......Grey! You shall be the grey queen, neither pure or evil and much more fun than either. Mithhiril, until the end of the ages.' Grinning, Miriel sighted her target, and as if knowing her rider's intentions, Mithhiril sped to Ewen's side and paused, waiting for the missile to rain upon the elf's head. And rain it did.
Ewen looked upwards, hearing the hoof beats, only to have a full load dumped in her face. Spitting Valar knows what out of her mouth; she turned a malevolent gaze on Miriel. Her only response was the smile on Miriel's face growing even larger. Narrowing her eyes in a furious glare, she leapt from the ground and chased after Miriel, full speed.
Miriel gulped, knowing fully the power Ewen's wrath (snicker) and galloped away, Mithhiril leaping gracefully over the bodies of fallen foes. Then, a sudden halt brought Miriel to slam against the glossy neck of her steed. "What in the name....."
The messenger in front of her cleared his throat, embarrassed. "A message Milady, for a Legolas Greenleaf." Legolas, with that ever so keen Elven hearing of his, padded lightly over the were Miriel was standing and composed himself, this being difficult, as he was completely covered in ......mud.
"Yes, good sir?" Legolas pierced him with the famous stare. The messenger reached into an invisible satchel on his back and pulled out a slightly glowing letter (Elven paper, of course). Handing it to the Prince, he turned clumsy and sped away. A puzzled expression masking his face, Legolas unfolded the letter. A quick glance at the flowing script and he blanched. He put it in Miriel's hand and waited expectantly.
My dear son,
I hope this reaches you swiftly. I have a great need of your assistance here in our home. Please return here quickly. There is no need to bring the others along, let them have their visit with the Rohirrim for now. And besides, the lovely princess from the Western shores is her to help me in my negotiations and I am sure she will be very pleased to meet you.
Your loving father, Thranduil
Lifting her eyes to her partners face, they shared a troubled stare. This was not like Thranduil at all. Granted, he hated Miriel with all his soul, but knowing that they were SOMEWHAT involved and sending his son off alone was beyond his usual insanity. They instantaneously sighed sadly. He had to go. Ducking in to give her a swift kiss on the lips with a murmured endearment, he sprang away to get his things.
Miriel, suddenly tired of this Mud War went inside to her room from her last visit, hoping that it was still empty. But she really didn't care. 'Why do I only realize how much I love him when he leaves? Accursed hormones."
The other elves, tired of being pummeled with mud, followed her example. Just as the entire stable area was cleared of people, a black, hooded figure raced onto the grounds, only to find that the war was already over.
Miriel sighed as she eyed the dress laid out on the bed of her temporary guest quarters. It was......a yellowish...PINK! "I can't wear this," Miriel's hair swung through the air as she turned to glare at Ewen and the maid she had been provided with.
The maid cleared her throat nervously. "Milady, might I ask, why is the dress unsatisfactory?" Ewen smiled like a cat with cream.
"Yes Miriel, why?" Miriel grimaced under her curtain of hair. 'Insult the maids taste in clothing or wear pink....pink or insult maid...curse them all!"
"My apologies, it suits my tastes perfectly." The maid sighed, relieved, and left the room for Miriel to dress. Ewen smirked and followed the maid's footsteps. Miriel glared at the silken, bell sleeved dress occupying most of her bed and slid it on with remorse. Tying the gold cord that surrounded the waist, she spun as she heard the sound of a rock hitting the clear glass of her window. "What in the undying lands..?" She bounded over to the window. A soft smile graced her features as a familiar elf appeared to be standing beneath his window with a foolish smile on his face.
"My princess appears...in pink?"
"I still have that rock." A twinkle appeared in his eyes, accompanying a soft chuckle. "Wish me luck on my long perilous journey."
"It's on a marked path."
"I just want the pity."
"Oh. Fine. Good luck."
Another chuckle escaped. "Don't sulk. I'll miss you."
Miriel's face grew solemn. "I'll miss you too," she whispered.
"Naamarie, A'maelamin." (1) A single rose landed upon the window sill, as Piron turned and galloped away, across the dry dusk of Rohan. A single speck graced the horizon, finally fading into the golden sunbeams.
"Naamarie." A shining crimson flag, a red rose petal swirled slowly trough the air, and drifted to the ground, a bloody patch against the faded grass; a symbol of what was yet to come.
HEHEHEHEHEEHHEHEHE cliffhanger....sort of....sooooooo sorry for the delay....I tired, I really did...sigh...I lied...Look, 5 more reviews, or no next Chapter, ok. Blackmail, isn't it. I learn quickly. And, for all those educated ones out there; badger badger badger badger badger badger badger badger badger badger mushroom mushroom... Heero: Omae o kuroso Cougar; get in the bloody line
(1) Farwell, my beloved
Chapter Eight
Piercing screams cut through the air of a lazy Rohirrim maid's afternoon. Startled, she jumped up out of her high-backed armchair, flicked her amber hair out of her steely eyes, and ran with as much dignity as possible to her round window.
A scene of carnage and fallen warriors was spread out like a picnic beneath her window. The maid turned to call for help as she saw a strange object flying towards her open window. Squinting against the setting sun, she could have sworn she saw the thing quiver, like a blob of clear healing salve. Frowning slightly, she leaned forward and screamed as the thing whizzed over her head onto her bed. Jumping and doing a 180 degree turn, Faeli discovered that a MUDBALL was splattered all over her riding gear. Checking one last time out the window to confirm her suspicions, she slipped on an old hooded cloak and swept out her door to the corral, all the while voices in her head muttered....
'Stupid bastards got my tack dirty...
'They deserve to meet my friend, Mr. Horse crap...'
And things of that sort.
Scooping up an especially goopy piece of mud, Miriel turned from her vantage point on her new horse. Eyes sweeping over the battle field, she spotted a vulnerable elf, kneeling down to retrieve some mud. With a feral grin, she nudged her mare in a silent canter and came up behind the elf. Raising her arm slightly, she fired her missile, which landed in the elf's once perfect hair. Slowly, deliberately, he- it was a definite he- turned and looked her straight in the eye. The corners of his lips twitched into an impish smile.
"I do believe you just messed up my hair." The laughter was barely contained in his light, fluid voice."
Miriel shrugged. "A moment worthy of a tapestry, I will admit."
"I am going to have to get you very, very muddy."
"Ooh, the terror. I'm quaking in my traveling shoes."
Pushing a glob of horse manure out of his hair, Legolas gave a mock-bow. Miriel mud-balled him again. The opportunity was far too good to pass up. A resigned sigh escaped his lips. "I will just have to bombard you with adoration until you surrender, won't I?" Miriel fled, shrieking like a harpy with her tale on fire.
He shrugged. "I wasn't completely joking," he whispered to himself, thoughtfully. The sight of his completely clean sister diverted his thoughts. It was time to formulate a plan.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jumping over the fallen bodies of her Elven comrades, Miriel made her way over to a particularly large, rancid pile of horse manure. 'Perfect. Ewen is far too clean for her own good. It is my sworn duty as a friend to save her from a terrible, clean fate. I have to do it.'
Halting her mare without reins, Miriel slid off and stalked quietly towards the pile of crap. Wincing slightly, she dug her hands into it and grabbed a large ball. 'Just think Miriel, it will probably clear up your complexion, not that you care.'
Holding the missile as far from her body as possible, Miriel grabbed the silky mane of her horse and gracefully deposited herself on its back. 'I really must name you, that way when I make Ewen surrender after covering her in manure, she can fully praise you and grovel. Great times, melamin, great times.' Cantering onward she appraised heroic names in her head.
'Hmmmm.......something queen would fit you.........not black queen...you aren't evil...red- no......Grey! You shall be the grey queen, neither pure or evil and much more fun than either. Mithhiril, until the end of the ages.' Grinning, Miriel sighted her target, and as if knowing her rider's intentions, Mithhiril sped to Ewen's side and paused, waiting for the missile to rain upon the elf's head. And rain it did.
Ewen looked upwards, hearing the hoof beats, only to have a full load dumped in her face. Spitting Valar knows what out of her mouth; she turned a malevolent gaze on Miriel. Her only response was the smile on Miriel's face growing even larger. Narrowing her eyes in a furious glare, she leapt from the ground and chased after Miriel, full speed.
Miriel gulped, knowing fully the power Ewen's wrath (snicker) and galloped away, Mithhiril leaping gracefully over the bodies of fallen foes. Then, a sudden halt brought Miriel to slam against the glossy neck of her steed. "What in the name....."
The messenger in front of her cleared his throat, embarrassed. "A message Milady, for a Legolas Greenleaf." Legolas, with that ever so keen Elven hearing of his, padded lightly over the were Miriel was standing and composed himself, this being difficult, as he was completely covered in ......mud.
"Yes, good sir?" Legolas pierced him with the famous stare. The messenger reached into an invisible satchel on his back and pulled out a slightly glowing letter (Elven paper, of course). Handing it to the Prince, he turned clumsy and sped away. A puzzled expression masking his face, Legolas unfolded the letter. A quick glance at the flowing script and he blanched. He put it in Miriel's hand and waited expectantly.
My dear son,
I hope this reaches you swiftly. I have a great need of your assistance here in our home. Please return here quickly. There is no need to bring the others along, let them have their visit with the Rohirrim for now. And besides, the lovely princess from the Western shores is her to help me in my negotiations and I am sure she will be very pleased to meet you.
Your loving father, Thranduil
Lifting her eyes to her partners face, they shared a troubled stare. This was not like Thranduil at all. Granted, he hated Miriel with all his soul, but knowing that they were SOMEWHAT involved and sending his son off alone was beyond his usual insanity. They instantaneously sighed sadly. He had to go. Ducking in to give her a swift kiss on the lips with a murmured endearment, he sprang away to get his things.
Miriel, suddenly tired of this Mud War went inside to her room from her last visit, hoping that it was still empty. But she really didn't care. 'Why do I only realize how much I love him when he leaves? Accursed hormones."
The other elves, tired of being pummeled with mud, followed her example. Just as the entire stable area was cleared of people, a black, hooded figure raced onto the grounds, only to find that the war was already over.
Miriel sighed as she eyed the dress laid out on the bed of her temporary guest quarters. It was......a yellowish...PINK! "I can't wear this," Miriel's hair swung through the air as she turned to glare at Ewen and the maid she had been provided with.
The maid cleared her throat nervously. "Milady, might I ask, why is the dress unsatisfactory?" Ewen smiled like a cat with cream.
"Yes Miriel, why?" Miriel grimaced under her curtain of hair. 'Insult the maids taste in clothing or wear pink....pink or insult maid...curse them all!"
"My apologies, it suits my tastes perfectly." The maid sighed, relieved, and left the room for Miriel to dress. Ewen smirked and followed the maid's footsteps. Miriel glared at the silken, bell sleeved dress occupying most of her bed and slid it on with remorse. Tying the gold cord that surrounded the waist, she spun as she heard the sound of a rock hitting the clear glass of her window. "What in the undying lands..?" She bounded over to the window. A soft smile graced her features as a familiar elf appeared to be standing beneath his window with a foolish smile on his face.
"My princess appears...in pink?"
"I still have that rock." A twinkle appeared in his eyes, accompanying a soft chuckle. "Wish me luck on my long perilous journey."
"It's on a marked path."
"I just want the pity."
"Oh. Fine. Good luck."
Another chuckle escaped. "Don't sulk. I'll miss you."
Miriel's face grew solemn. "I'll miss you too," she whispered.
"Naamarie, A'maelamin." (1) A single rose landed upon the window sill, as Piron turned and galloped away, across the dry dusk of Rohan. A single speck graced the horizon, finally fading into the golden sunbeams.
"Naamarie." A shining crimson flag, a red rose petal swirled slowly trough the air, and drifted to the ground, a bloody patch against the faded grass; a symbol of what was yet to come.
HEHEHEHEHEEHHEHEHE cliffhanger....sort of....sooooooo sorry for the delay....I tired, I really did...sigh...I lied...Look, 5 more reviews, or no next Chapter, ok. Blackmail, isn't it. I learn quickly. And, for all those educated ones out there; badger badger badger badger badger badger badger badger badger badger mushroom mushroom... Heero: Omae o kuroso Cougar; get in the bloody line
(1) Farwell, my beloved