Little Elf
Chapter seven
Elle spent the rest of the day acquainting herself with the rest of Caras Galadhon. She found a small library, which she promised to come back too. The throne room, dining halls, healing halls and kitchen had all been found and committed to memory.
For dinner she was taken to a smaller dining room, which had Celeborn and Galadriel as well as a few advisors.
Elle found herself being sat next to Celeborn again, with her plates piled with fruits and cakes of various assortments, Elle rose an eyebrow, shrugged and started on her food.
When she had nearly finished a harp started to be played sending sweet music around the room. Elle sighed at the restful music, taking a sip of a sweet smelling wine. However, halfway through a sip she yearly spat it all out. The music had changed tempo and a familiar tune was being played. Elle swallowed quickly and looked at Celeborn questioningly. "You said you could not dance, yesterday, because the music was unfamiliar." Elle winced
"I'm still not dancing." Wince
"You promised." Wince
"No, I certainly did not! I said it was the wrong type of" Wince "music for Abberants dancing. I also said that you'd be lucky to get me to dance in Abberant." Wince
"But, this music" wince "from your home, couldn't you bend your rules?" Wince "Why do you keep on doing that? Are you ill?"
"Nay, this musician isn't doing very well with the song. It sounds like he's playing it with his teeth."
An elf next to her grinned "To true."
"Aye, this minstrel is terrible." Said another opposite her.
"What-"
"Did I forget to tell you that everyone in this room speaks the common tongue?"
"Including the so called terrible musician."
Elle realised that the familiar (though badly played) music had stopped "seeing as I am so bad, and you are familiar with the music why do not you play then? My harp is yours." The elf turned on his heel and left the room.
"Oops." Was all Elle said.
"Well, my dear, it appears that our musician has left you with a challenge."
"What? When?"
"He said 'why do not you play then? My harp is yours' that is a challenge. For your honour you must except."
"You are joking."
"No, I would not jest about such a subject."
"You want me to play the harp?" Elle asked sceptical.
"Aye."
"But I don't have to sing?"
"No, though-"
"Ok, I'll play the harp then."
*I'll show them!*
Elle walked up to the large harp. It had been made with great skill. The frame was made of gold with flowers worked into it, their centres made of gems of different colours. Elle looked in awe and hesitantly plucked a few strings. She reached over to the furthest string (the longest one) and plucked it while drawing her hand back and going through every note possible on the harp. She looked up to see them all staring at her patiently. *Well here goes*
Elles fingers started going across the strings swiftly, nimbly and skilfully. Music came softly from the harp. *Well it's the wring instrument for pop music. I could sing, it'd sound better, and compliment the music. But these are elves and their singing is beautiful*
*Remember you are and elf* came a voice in her head
Elle sent a smile across to Galadriel and steeled herself.
"You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields of gold
So she took her love for to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley?
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold"
Elle finished but carried on playing changing the song *Wonder what they'll think of this. English national anthem isn't the nicest song in the world. Especially the words, 'God save our gracious Queen' and all that. Isn't in ironic? I'm a republican and I'm pretending to be a princess.*
*Ironic indeed*
*Do you even know what a republican is?*
*Aye, though there are not many in the elvish realms. Mortals do tend to let being in control get to their heads and then there is a revolution.*
*I personally prefer the French national anthem; La Marseillaise. Would you like me to sing it?*
*You seem to have gotten over your singing phobia*
*It wasn't a phobia; it was me not wanting to sing in front of Elves. Ok so maybe it was a phobia, but that's not the point! Seems that being an elf means that I've been given the ability to sing. Well anyway here's the French national anthem!*
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Allons ! Enfants de la Patrie !
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous de la tyrannie,
L'étendard sanglant est levé ! (bis)
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes
Mugir ces féroces soldats ?
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras
Égorger vos fils, vos compagnes.
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Que veut cette horde d'esclaves,
De traîtres, de rois conjurés ?
Pour qui ces ignobles entraves,
Ces fers dès longtemps préparés ? (bis)
Français ! pour nous, ah ! quel outrage !
Quels transports il doit exciter ;
C'est nous qu'on ose méditer
De rendre à l'antique esclavage !
"Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Quoi ! des cohortes étrangères
Feraient la loi dans nos foyers !
Quoi ! des phalanges mercenaires
Terrasseraient nos fiers guerriers ! (bis)
Dieu ! nos mains seraient enchaînées !
Nos fronts sous le joug se ploieraient !
De vils despotes deviendraient
Les maîtres de nos destinées !
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Tremblez, tyrans et vous, perfides,
L'opprobre de tous les partis !
Tremblez ! vos projets parricides
Vont enfin recevoir leur prix. (bis)
Tout est soldat pour vous combattre.
S'ils tombent, nos jeunes héros,
La terre en produira de nouveaux
Contre vous, tous, prêt à se battre.
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Français, en guerriers magnanimes
Portons ou retenons nos coups !
Épargnons ces tristes victimes,
A regret, s'armant contre nous ! (bis)
Mais ce despote sanguinaire !
Mais ces complices de Bouillé !
Tous ces tigres qui, sans pitié,
Déchirent le sein de leur mère !
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Amour sacré de la Patrie
Conduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs !
Liberté ! Liberté chérie,
Combats avec tes défenseurs ! (bis)
Sous nos drapeaux que la Victoire
Accoure à tes mâles accents !
Que tes ennemis expirants
Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire !
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Peuple français, connais ta gloire ;
Couronné par l'Égalité,
Quel triomphe, quelle victoire,
D'avoir conquis la Liberté ! (bis)
Le Dieu qui lance le tonnerre
Et qui commande aux éléments,
Pour exterminer les tyrans,
Se sert de ton bras sur la terre.
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Nous avons de la tyrannie
Repoussé les derniers efforts ;
De nos climats, elle est bannie ;
Chez les Français les rois sont morts. (bis)
Vive à jamais la République !
Anathème à la royauté !
Que ce refrain, partout porté,
Brave des rois la politique.
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
La France que l'Europe admire
A reconquis la Liberté
Et chaque citoyen respire
Sous les lois de l'Égalité ; (bis)
Un jour son image chérie
S'étendra sur tout l'univers.
Peuples, vous briserez vos fers
Et vous aurez une Patrie !
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Foulant aux pieds les droits de l'Homme,
Les soldatesques légions
Des premiers habitants de Rome
Asservirent les nations. (bis)
Un projet plus grand et plus sage
Nous engage dans les combats
Et le Français n'arme son bras
Que pour détruire l'esclavage.
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
Oui ! déjà d'insolents despotes
Et la bande des émigrés
Faisant la guerre aux Sans-Culottes
Par nos armes sont altérés ; (bis)
Vainement leur espoir se fonde
Sur le fanatisme irrité,
Le signe de la Liberté
Fera bientôt le tour du monde.
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur...
Abreuve nos sillons !
O vous ! que la gloire environne,
Citoyens, illustres guerriers,
Craignez, dans les champs de Bellone,
Craignez de flétrir vos lauriers ! (bis)
Aux noirs soupçons inaccessibles
Envers vos chefs, vos généraux,
Ne quittez jamais vos drapeaux,
Et vous resterez invincibles."
(a/n I know a normal English person wouldn't know the song words to the French national anthem, hell we don't even know the words to out owen, but well, just believe it!)
As Elle finished singing she yawned, "Well I'm bushed, I'm going to bed."
Elle then left the room muttering good night. She went to her talan sleepily. When she arrived she noticed her diary peeping out from under her pillow where she'd put it earlier.
She changed into her nightdress and climbed into the bed. She took out her diary and started writing:
October 3rd 2002, nee December 2nd 3016, 3rd age
Well, my dear diary if you could speak you'd say I was…odd. After I tell you this, you'd say that I was stark raving mad, so I might as well say it our right.
I'm an elf
No joke. Yesterday after I came out of the pharmacist I ended up in middle earth, more precisely Lothlorien. Honestly! I've met Lord Celeborn he gave me an archery lesson which was surprisingly easy apart from the fact that my arms feel like they're going to drop off. Lady Galadriel is scary in and awe like way, yet she's really nice. I've also met Haldir; he's really cool!
They all think (apart from Galadriel) that I'm from Abberant (made up), which is French for absurd. They think I've run away from an arranged marriage, Galadriel told me to embellish a bit.
I've also met Gandalf, no joke. Only for about 30mins though. He's carried on going to Minas Tirith, to look up the ring prophecy. Well I know he's going there but I don't know if he's left yet. I also played the harp and sang. It seems that being an elf means I can sing.
There are also some differences of being and elf compared to human other then the obvious immortality and pointy ears. My fingers have gotten longer; I noticed that when I played the harp. I've also gotten taller, from my modest 5'5'' to about 5'10''. I'm still smaller then other elves. Lady Galadriel it t least 6'2'', but she's tall for most female elves isn't she?
I've also gotten thinner, maybe the extra height meant relocating the fat, so it spreads well. My waist is impossibly thin now so I don't have to do any more sit ups!
My eyesight is also better, it's actually quite scary how far I can see, and my hearing is better. I can hear the flapping of wings above me.
I also have this weird glow. All the elves do, it fades before they die doesn't it? Why am I even asking? I know the answer already, after all I am a 'tad' obsessed with the books. Oh and everything is cool. I haven't felt hot or cold since I got here, an other elven trait.
I also have a maid! I know ridiculous! Her name is Edwi and she's really sweet! Anyway I'm sleepy now do I'm going to bed. I thought elves didn't need to sleep much. Maybe I'm getting and equivalent to jet lag.
Elle xxx
A/n Well that was a very long chapter! Even without the songs! Who'd have thought the French national anthem would have 12 verses! I thought 5 max. The English one only has…two? That's how much I know about my own national anthem.
I hope the italics have shown up in this chapter. The songs are meant to be in italics and so is the diary entry.
The first song is 'fields of Gold' by Sting. The second is the French national anthem 'La Marseillaise' by someone who I can't remember Monsieur Rouge and the rest I can't remember, there is a C involved!
Fang: Well I've written more, don' worry I will carry on writing! I've actually yearly caught up with where I am with writing in my book, so I might write for quite a while tomorrow. About Maddy, what I was going to continue to say is that does she insist that Leggy lives in her house? Poor you for having to go all the way thru primary school with her! No I'm joking! I know her because I'm her e-pal, pen pal whatever you want to call her. I dunno how it started, been corresponding for far to long!
KindCalypso: I'm glad that you liked chapter 5. You must of reviewed it just as I put up the last chapter, so you have two to read now! You're weird? I think most authors on ff.n are weird in some form or another :) So you're with friends!
The lady Sorcha of seven waters: Well, I'm glad you liked the chapter!
Well that's 9 Microsoft pages!
Ciao
Gwilwileth