As before, thanks for this chapter will go to Lisa and Ed for making me
feel loved and important.
Disclaimer: Yes, I own Gundam Wing and Lord of the Rings. I am insanely
rich, live in a huge underground mansion on a private island and have a
golden toilet.
***
October 29, Lóthlorien
"Not a dream, an idea,"
A tall elf, her blonde hair loosely hanging down far below her waist, shook
her head.
She was trying to explain her thoughts to her elder, who, although he
looked as though he could be her brother, was completely unrelated to
her.
She turned in a slow circle, her long black skirts waving out behind her,
the tight, dark top standing out against her fair skin.
"You don't understand, do you?" She smiled, looking up at her taller
companion.
"The orcs are on the move," As she spoke, a smile graced her lips.
"Marching out. An unstoppable force, leaving the dark lands of Mordor
and coming to the west."
Her icy gray eyes shone. "We are in the west."
She paused and looked the other in the eyes.
"You understand," Her face lit up.
"I admire you. So I know you must understand me when I tell you this."
In the pause as she took a breath, a lower, annoyed voice rent the air,
as it's owner glared down on the elven girl.
"You never answered my question, Dorothy. I didn't want to know about
your strange attraction to war. I wanted to know when you had this
dream about Mordor on the march."
"And you never listened to my response," The girl curled down on a
bench, looking for all the world like a cat, as she raised one hand slowly,
the long nails tossing dust specs to and fro.
"I said," she spoke patiently, as if to a young child, "That it wasn't a
dream. It was an idea."
"An idea."
"Yes," Her face lit up, "But not one based on wishful thinking."
She lifted her pointer finger, "I heard the others talking, Zechs. I have
read our stores of scrolls and listened to the councils that take place. It
was based on knowledge. But who could blame me if it was based on
wishful thinking?" She lowered her hand and gracefully shrugged.
"War is wonderful. We are at our best when we fight."
The tall elf still standing next to her spoke, "Dorothy, you are not called
upon to fight. Let whether battle is a good or bad thing be decided by the
people who's lives are risked."
Dorothy brushed her hand across one cheek.
"It may be so that I am not called upon to fight, but that doesn't mean my
life is not risked. It simply means my life would lie on the shoulders of
others, dependent on their every move. The ultimate trust. The ultimate
trust, for I give you," She stood up, "Zechs Marquise, my life."
Reaching forward and clasping her hands around his, she stared up at
him.
"The ultimate trust," She smiled softly and turned away, glancing back,
and saying, "I hope you will be at your very best."
Then, with a swish of black material, she was down the path and out of
sight.
Zechs sighed. That girl always was one of a kind.
His own white robes made no sound as he made his way down a side
path in the forest city, heading for his own chambers.
Where others wore white, she wore black.
Where others were silent, she spoke.
Where other hoped for peace, she dreamt of war.
One of a kind.
That was probably a good thing, he reasoned with himself.
If all were like her, well, he for one would not want to live in this world.
But then again, if none were like her, would the world be so much better?
All she seemed to do was portray fighting in a better light, not start a
war, unlike so many others in this day and age.
Reaching his rooms, he entered and sat down on a silvery chair behind a
large white desk, covered in all manner of writings.
He should probably start hiding his letters, since it seemed that was
where Dorothy was getting much of her information of the outside world.
Zechs had a companion, a good source of information, currently working
under him, carrying out his orders.
Mail from her was usually accurate.
He didn't want to isolate Dorothy from the lands around the city, but he
also didn't want to have her cause more trouble than she already was
capable of starting.
Unlocking and opening a drawer, he continued his musings, carefully
storing away a great array of papers written on varying dates and
locations.
3009, 3010, 3014. Then, more recently: June fifth, August sixteenth,
October twenty-sixth. Rivendell, Minas Tirith, Minas Morgul, The Prancing
Pony.
All signed by the same person.
Lucrezia Noin.
Zechs folded the last letter into place and locked the drawer, placing the
key in a small wooden box, carved with a simple design, on a high shelf.
Looking at his now clear desk, he picked up a piece of parchment off it's
neat stack, pulled a white quill out of the ink well, and sat down on the
chair, proceeding to dip the feather into the black substance and draw it's
tip across the stiff paper. Smooth dark letters danced across the surface,
relaying a private message.
As the silent sound of his writing died down, a great white bird flew into
the room, landing on the back of his chair. It's wings softly covered in pale
feathers, a red crest spiraling out in a delicate plume on it's silvery head.
Metallic claws gripped it's makeshift wooden perch, talons an inch long
cutting into the leather backing. A hooked beak opened and reached
forward, nipping at the back of Zechs' neck.
He waved a gloved hand at it, it's large black pupils, ringed with gold
widening. It made an annoyed click of it's tongue, reaching out again and
sharply pecking his head.
It avoided the swipe at it's head, taking off and landing on the desk,
nearly knocking over an ink well and brushing off a couple pieces of
paper.
Zechs sighed, and finishing the letter, he signed his name with a quick
flourish, then turned to the snowy bird of prey.
He smiled.
Rolling up and attaching the letter to the creature's ankle with in a deft
maneuver, he tied it on with a pale yellow ribbon and spoke.
"Search on the East Road for Lucrezia Noin. Hurry, Tallgeese!"
He released his grip on the bird's luggage and watched as it spread it's
great wings and sped away, flying out of the room, over the trees and to
the west, towards the East Road, Zechs watching it fly away.
***
As soon as it was out of sight, it swooped down in a great arc towards
the ground, spiraled once, and flew back up into the sky, heading
towards the south.
Make a wish!
*
**
***
**
*
**
***
**
*
**
***
**
* ** ***
**
*
Now send the author reviews!
If the author receives 1 review, she will update!
If she receives 2 reviews, she will update sooner!
If she receives 3 reviews, she will update within a day!
If she receives 100 reviews, she will french her math teacher and streak
across the school grounds!(And your wish will come true! ^_~)
feel loved and important.
Disclaimer: Yes, I own Gundam Wing and Lord of the Rings. I am insanely
rich, live in a huge underground mansion on a private island and have a
golden toilet.
***
October 29, Lóthlorien
"Not a dream, an idea,"
A tall elf, her blonde hair loosely hanging down far below her waist, shook
her head.
She was trying to explain her thoughts to her elder, who, although he
looked as though he could be her brother, was completely unrelated to
her.
She turned in a slow circle, her long black skirts waving out behind her,
the tight, dark top standing out against her fair skin.
"You don't understand, do you?" She smiled, looking up at her taller
companion.
"The orcs are on the move," As she spoke, a smile graced her lips.
"Marching out. An unstoppable force, leaving the dark lands of Mordor
and coming to the west."
Her icy gray eyes shone. "We are in the west."
She paused and looked the other in the eyes.
"You understand," Her face lit up.
"I admire you. So I know you must understand me when I tell you this."
In the pause as she took a breath, a lower, annoyed voice rent the air,
as it's owner glared down on the elven girl.
"You never answered my question, Dorothy. I didn't want to know about
your strange attraction to war. I wanted to know when you had this
dream about Mordor on the march."
"And you never listened to my response," The girl curled down on a
bench, looking for all the world like a cat, as she raised one hand slowly,
the long nails tossing dust specs to and fro.
"I said," she spoke patiently, as if to a young child, "That it wasn't a
dream. It was an idea."
"An idea."
"Yes," Her face lit up, "But not one based on wishful thinking."
She lifted her pointer finger, "I heard the others talking, Zechs. I have
read our stores of scrolls and listened to the councils that take place. It
was based on knowledge. But who could blame me if it was based on
wishful thinking?" She lowered her hand and gracefully shrugged.
"War is wonderful. We are at our best when we fight."
The tall elf still standing next to her spoke, "Dorothy, you are not called
upon to fight. Let whether battle is a good or bad thing be decided by the
people who's lives are risked."
Dorothy brushed her hand across one cheek.
"It may be so that I am not called upon to fight, but that doesn't mean my
life is not risked. It simply means my life would lie on the shoulders of
others, dependent on their every move. The ultimate trust. The ultimate
trust, for I give you," She stood up, "Zechs Marquise, my life."
Reaching forward and clasping her hands around his, she stared up at
him.
"The ultimate trust," She smiled softly and turned away, glancing back,
and saying, "I hope you will be at your very best."
Then, with a swish of black material, she was down the path and out of
sight.
Zechs sighed. That girl always was one of a kind.
His own white robes made no sound as he made his way down a side
path in the forest city, heading for his own chambers.
Where others wore white, she wore black.
Where others were silent, she spoke.
Where other hoped for peace, she dreamt of war.
One of a kind.
That was probably a good thing, he reasoned with himself.
If all were like her, well, he for one would not want to live in this world.
But then again, if none were like her, would the world be so much better?
All she seemed to do was portray fighting in a better light, not start a
war, unlike so many others in this day and age.
Reaching his rooms, he entered and sat down on a silvery chair behind a
large white desk, covered in all manner of writings.
He should probably start hiding his letters, since it seemed that was
where Dorothy was getting much of her information of the outside world.
Zechs had a companion, a good source of information, currently working
under him, carrying out his orders.
Mail from her was usually accurate.
He didn't want to isolate Dorothy from the lands around the city, but he
also didn't want to have her cause more trouble than she already was
capable of starting.
Unlocking and opening a drawer, he continued his musings, carefully
storing away a great array of papers written on varying dates and
locations.
3009, 3010, 3014. Then, more recently: June fifth, August sixteenth,
October twenty-sixth. Rivendell, Minas Tirith, Minas Morgul, The Prancing
Pony.
All signed by the same person.
Lucrezia Noin.
Zechs folded the last letter into place and locked the drawer, placing the
key in a small wooden box, carved with a simple design, on a high shelf.
Looking at his now clear desk, he picked up a piece of parchment off it's
neat stack, pulled a white quill out of the ink well, and sat down on the
chair, proceeding to dip the feather into the black substance and draw it's
tip across the stiff paper. Smooth dark letters danced across the surface,
relaying a private message.
As the silent sound of his writing died down, a great white bird flew into
the room, landing on the back of his chair. It's wings softly covered in pale
feathers, a red crest spiraling out in a delicate plume on it's silvery head.
Metallic claws gripped it's makeshift wooden perch, talons an inch long
cutting into the leather backing. A hooked beak opened and reached
forward, nipping at the back of Zechs' neck.
He waved a gloved hand at it, it's large black pupils, ringed with gold
widening. It made an annoyed click of it's tongue, reaching out again and
sharply pecking his head.
It avoided the swipe at it's head, taking off and landing on the desk,
nearly knocking over an ink well and brushing off a couple pieces of
paper.
Zechs sighed, and finishing the letter, he signed his name with a quick
flourish, then turned to the snowy bird of prey.
He smiled.
Rolling up and attaching the letter to the creature's ankle with in a deft
maneuver, he tied it on with a pale yellow ribbon and spoke.
"Search on the East Road for Lucrezia Noin. Hurry, Tallgeese!"
He released his grip on the bird's luggage and watched as it spread it's
great wings and sped away, flying out of the room, over the trees and to
the west, towards the East Road, Zechs watching it fly away.
***
As soon as it was out of sight, it swooped down in a great arc towards
the ground, spiraled once, and flew back up into the sky, heading
towards the south.
Make a wish!
*
**
***
**
*
**
***
**
*
**
***
**
* ** ***
**
*
Now send the author reviews!
If the author receives 1 review, she will update!
If she receives 2 reviews, she will update sooner!
If she receives 3 reviews, she will update within a day!
If she receives 100 reviews, she will french her math teacher and streak
across the school grounds!(And your wish will come true! ^_~)