Sadly, I do not own any of the wonderful characters so excellently portrayed by the great and almight Tolkien! I, such a meager authoress, could never contemplate a world as intricate as the one derived from the brilliant mind of the greatest author ever born into this unworthy world!
Did you hear that, Mr. Tolkien, sir? Can I borrow them now? Please? It was such a good compliment. So many big words should atleast give me three days woth Leggy-poo and Aragorn. Please?
Tolkien: No.
Sigh. Well, there's always tomorrow.
This is my first LOTR fanfic. I usually write Inuyasha fics, so any comments and/or suggestions would be greatly appreciated, but please, No Flames!
If anyone out there is reading this fic and would like me to continue all I'm asking is for one review. I would only like to know that my efforts towards updating are not in vain.
Finally, yes I know. This chapter is pitifully short. The only reason I put it up was to see if it was worth working on. If so, the chapters will most likley grow to be double, or triple (go reviews! they fuel my brain!) the size of this one. This is really more of an introduction anyway.
PLEASE REVIEW!!!
Just behind the large oak doars at the end of the hallway, past several rows of shelves, filled to the brim with great Mirkwood literature, in the middlle of the small opening, there sits a large table. Carved intricatley of dark wood, vines wound their way up the broad legs and small leaves decorated its corners.
But it is not the table, nor the handiwork of the elves, that is of any conscern to us. For our attention is directed to the figure sitting at the table, beneath the piles of books, quietly studying the documents spread out before him.
Well, not everything in that last sentence is true.
Although the elf was quiet, and he was studying. Exactly what he was studying had nothing to do with the affairs of Mirkwood.
For you see, the lonley elf was not really working. He wasn't even awake for that matter, though it would seem so from afar.
If you were to venture closer you would find that the young elf was not in fact crouched over for means of getting a closer view of the tiny scripture, but had fallen asleep. His blonde hair trailing over his arms where his head rested.
Also, if you were to place an ear beside his sleeping form you would discover that a faint, yet easily recognizable, snore could be heard emitting from his throat, and a minute trail of drool could be seen dripping between his slightly parted lips.
The whole thing was quite comical, really. Not only considering that this was an elf, the first-born, the eldest to both dwarves and men, though that thought alone could produce many a night of 'harmless' joking from the elf's 'dear' friends, who occupied the latter two of the three races.
No, that was not the reason. For you see, that snoring mass of wrinkled tunic and unruly blonde hair was non other than the Prince of Mirkwood. Exactly how he got into that situation none are quite sure.
He was last seen in the dining hall sometime around dawn. It was reported that he had much work to do and, not being one who enjoyed waisting one's entire day on paperwork, decided to wake early and therefore finish early.
Sadly, this was not the outcome.
Legolas had spent most, if not all, of last night tossing and turning in bed. Gruesome images of past battles haunted his mind. Images of death and destrution, directed mostly towards his friends and family.
Though the image that dwelled most often in his mind was of one that wrenched his heart. Images of his mother plagued the young elf that night. Something that had not happened in many a year.
Often the guards would see the slender figure of the elf walk solemnly down the long hallways, draped in nothing but his chamber clothes and a dark cloak. Quite curious considering the weather. Then, several minutes later, return silently to his room.
Mind you, one night of lost sleep has almost no effect on an elf, but the emotional torment Legolas suffered that night left both his body and soul utterly fatigued.
And now, in the silent confines of the library, the elf's exhaustion caught up with him, and Legolas's mind became lost once again in the mysterious world of elven sleep.
Did you hear that, Mr. Tolkien, sir? Can I borrow them now? Please? It was such a good compliment. So many big words should atleast give me three days woth Leggy-poo and Aragorn. Please?
Tolkien: No.
Sigh. Well, there's always tomorrow.
This is my first LOTR fanfic. I usually write Inuyasha fics, so any comments and/or suggestions would be greatly appreciated, but please, No Flames!
If anyone out there is reading this fic and would like me to continue all I'm asking is for one review. I would only like to know that my efforts towards updating are not in vain.
Finally, yes I know. This chapter is pitifully short. The only reason I put it up was to see if it was worth working on. If so, the chapters will most likley grow to be double, or triple (go reviews! they fuel my brain!) the size of this one. This is really more of an introduction anyway.
PLEASE REVIEW!!!
Just behind the large oak doars at the end of the hallway, past several rows of shelves, filled to the brim with great Mirkwood literature, in the middlle of the small opening, there sits a large table. Carved intricatley of dark wood, vines wound their way up the broad legs and small leaves decorated its corners.
But it is not the table, nor the handiwork of the elves, that is of any conscern to us. For our attention is directed to the figure sitting at the table, beneath the piles of books, quietly studying the documents spread out before him.
Well, not everything in that last sentence is true.
Although the elf was quiet, and he was studying. Exactly what he was studying had nothing to do with the affairs of Mirkwood.
For you see, the lonley elf was not really working. He wasn't even awake for that matter, though it would seem so from afar.
If you were to venture closer you would find that the young elf was not in fact crouched over for means of getting a closer view of the tiny scripture, but had fallen asleep. His blonde hair trailing over his arms where his head rested.
Also, if you were to place an ear beside his sleeping form you would discover that a faint, yet easily recognizable, snore could be heard emitting from his throat, and a minute trail of drool could be seen dripping between his slightly parted lips.
The whole thing was quite comical, really. Not only considering that this was an elf, the first-born, the eldest to both dwarves and men, though that thought alone could produce many a night of 'harmless' joking from the elf's 'dear' friends, who occupied the latter two of the three races.
No, that was not the reason. For you see, that snoring mass of wrinkled tunic and unruly blonde hair was non other than the Prince of Mirkwood. Exactly how he got into that situation none are quite sure.
He was last seen in the dining hall sometime around dawn. It was reported that he had much work to do and, not being one who enjoyed waisting one's entire day on paperwork, decided to wake early and therefore finish early.
Sadly, this was not the outcome.
Legolas had spent most, if not all, of last night tossing and turning in bed. Gruesome images of past battles haunted his mind. Images of death and destrution, directed mostly towards his friends and family.
Though the image that dwelled most often in his mind was of one that wrenched his heart. Images of his mother plagued the young elf that night. Something that had not happened in many a year.
Often the guards would see the slender figure of the elf walk solemnly down the long hallways, draped in nothing but his chamber clothes and a dark cloak. Quite curious considering the weather. Then, several minutes later, return silently to his room.
Mind you, one night of lost sleep has almost no effect on an elf, but the emotional torment Legolas suffered that night left both his body and soul utterly fatigued.
And now, in the silent confines of the library, the elf's exhaustion caught up with him, and Legolas's mind became lost once again in the mysterious world of elven sleep.