Hi again. I've been having a bit of trouble with this chapter; I'm not
really sure where to head from here. Do I end it happily, or do I make
Elráwien and Legolas suffer a bit more? (Wow, that sounds a lot more
sadistic then I meant it to...) Anyway, I guess I'll just play it by ear for
now, as unprofessional as that sounds. Ah, well.
I'm really glad that you guys were okay with the POV changes in recent
chapters. I think I'm going to stick with them to make things a bit more
interesting.
Thanks for the reviews!
Disclaimer: Does it look like I own anything?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Galáril paced nervously in his chambers, muttering ominously to himself. His eyes flashed dangerously, and every so often he would clench his fists in agitation.
"This will not do," he said, shaking his head. Galáril was not dim- witted. He had seen that librarian, the conniving wench, cozy up to the prince. His lip curled in disgust. Thought she'd win the King's favor by batting her eyelashes at his sole heir, did she? It was revolting. Apparently, Elráwien had told the prince her dark and tortured past, hoping to win him over.
"Of course her past is dark!" Galáril said savagely, pounding his fist on his wall. "What Elf's isn't?" He did not know a single Elf who had not suffered grievous losses. It was just like Elráwien to do this. Since her father had died, she wanted to "honor his memory" by serving Thranduil, and "do what she was born to" as well. Ha! Galáril new that she was lying. He knew she simply wanted to ruin everything he had ever worked for. Elráwien, he had decided, was like a spider, spinning webs of lies and deceit; even the most famed warrior in the kingdom was tangled in her web.
"But I," Galáril said, "will not be victimized." He smiled triumphantly, and began to plan.
"Not a moment to soon," he said, "I wonder who she preys upon as I speak."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Foul thing!" I cried, shattering the silence of the library. I scowled at the overturned vial of ink, which was rapidly spreading. I quickly mopped up the mess, which thankfully had not stained any of the parchment surrounding it. It had, however, stained my fingers. Sighing, I began to scrub at my fingers, but my efforts were fruitless.
"Your grace astounds me, my lady," Legolas said, grinning at me. He was perched atop one of the writing tables, watching me frantically wipe my hands.
"Prey tell, my lord, what have you done with the prince they call Legolas? For I know he would never mock a maiden in distress," I said, smiling back.
"My apologies," he replied, putting down a letter he was reading and gracefully sliding off of the desk, "But I assumed a maiden in distress would, in fact, be in distress."
"Oh, do be quiet," I said, lightly slapping at his hands, which had encircled my waist.
"Do not speak, fair maiden! Do not cause yourself further injury! I shall escort you to safety, where you may heal from these severe stains." If one fluid motion, Legolas swooped me up into his arms, acting as if he were carrying me to safety.
"Put me down this instant, you rogue," I said, laughing at his dramatic antics.
"Rogue? Me? Why I assure you my lady, I have honorable intentions," Legolas said, winking at me. Finally he gently set me on my feet again, laughing.
"Very amusing," I said, "but the ink will not come off so easily."
"Well," Legolas said, "I cannot be in love with a maiden with ink on her hands, can I? I suppose I shall have to find another..." He trailed off, looking thoughtful.
"Well, I never," I replied, placing my hands on my hips in mock fury. Legolas took my hands in my own and studied them carefully.
"Covered in ink and calloused from writing," he said, his eyes twinkling, "these are the hands of a scribe."
"Only one tiny callous," I protested half-heartedly, studying the third finger from my thumb. A callous had formed on it as a result of years and years of writing. When I was younger, I had hated it and would look mournfully at the flawless hands of the other maidens. After a time I had accepted it; having flaws makes you different.
"The beautiful hands of a scribe," Legolas said, laughing at my protest. "You are perfect the way you are," he added, kissing me gently.
"Don't think you can get out of it so easily," I smiled, returning to my writing table to continue working. Legolas shook his head, muttering something about fickle women, and returned to his letter. I noticed that as he read, a smile broke out on his face, and occasionally he would laugh.
"What is that you are reading?" I inquired, curious.
Legolas looked up from the parchment he held in his hand. "A letter from my dear friend Gimli, Lord of the Glittering Caves."
"Gimli, Glóin's son?" I asked, and Legolas nodded in reply. I had never met the Dwarf, but knew he was an Elf-friend. "How fares the colony of the White Mountains?"
"They are well," Legolas said, smiling, "The Dwarves of Aglarond have done many great deeds for the Rohirrim and Gondor's men."
I nodded as he returned to the letter from his dear friend. I smiled to myself; it warmed my heart to see the one I held so dear so happy. My time in the shadows is over, I thought to myself, and much joy is to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What did you think? I added that last part about Gimli because all of a sudden I thought: Hey, what about Gimli? I didn't want to make him and Elráwien best buddies or anything, and thought it would disrupt the flow of the story if I included him in every chapter. So there it is, a little nod in his direction. Poor Gimli! Just a little note: In case you were wondering, Galáril isn't insane. He's just...driven. Very much so, in fact. So that's all for now! I had better go, Fatty is trying to escape again...
Thanks for the reviews!
Disclaimer: Does it look like I own anything?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Galáril paced nervously in his chambers, muttering ominously to himself. His eyes flashed dangerously, and every so often he would clench his fists in agitation.
"This will not do," he said, shaking his head. Galáril was not dim- witted. He had seen that librarian, the conniving wench, cozy up to the prince. His lip curled in disgust. Thought she'd win the King's favor by batting her eyelashes at his sole heir, did she? It was revolting. Apparently, Elráwien had told the prince her dark and tortured past, hoping to win him over.
"Of course her past is dark!" Galáril said savagely, pounding his fist on his wall. "What Elf's isn't?" He did not know a single Elf who had not suffered grievous losses. It was just like Elráwien to do this. Since her father had died, she wanted to "honor his memory" by serving Thranduil, and "do what she was born to" as well. Ha! Galáril new that she was lying. He knew she simply wanted to ruin everything he had ever worked for. Elráwien, he had decided, was like a spider, spinning webs of lies and deceit; even the most famed warrior in the kingdom was tangled in her web.
"But I," Galáril said, "will not be victimized." He smiled triumphantly, and began to plan.
"Not a moment to soon," he said, "I wonder who she preys upon as I speak."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Foul thing!" I cried, shattering the silence of the library. I scowled at the overturned vial of ink, which was rapidly spreading. I quickly mopped up the mess, which thankfully had not stained any of the parchment surrounding it. It had, however, stained my fingers. Sighing, I began to scrub at my fingers, but my efforts were fruitless.
"Your grace astounds me, my lady," Legolas said, grinning at me. He was perched atop one of the writing tables, watching me frantically wipe my hands.
"Prey tell, my lord, what have you done with the prince they call Legolas? For I know he would never mock a maiden in distress," I said, smiling back.
"My apologies," he replied, putting down a letter he was reading and gracefully sliding off of the desk, "But I assumed a maiden in distress would, in fact, be in distress."
"Oh, do be quiet," I said, lightly slapping at his hands, which had encircled my waist.
"Do not speak, fair maiden! Do not cause yourself further injury! I shall escort you to safety, where you may heal from these severe stains." If one fluid motion, Legolas swooped me up into his arms, acting as if he were carrying me to safety.
"Put me down this instant, you rogue," I said, laughing at his dramatic antics.
"Rogue? Me? Why I assure you my lady, I have honorable intentions," Legolas said, winking at me. Finally he gently set me on my feet again, laughing.
"Very amusing," I said, "but the ink will not come off so easily."
"Well," Legolas said, "I cannot be in love with a maiden with ink on her hands, can I? I suppose I shall have to find another..." He trailed off, looking thoughtful.
"Well, I never," I replied, placing my hands on my hips in mock fury. Legolas took my hands in my own and studied them carefully.
"Covered in ink and calloused from writing," he said, his eyes twinkling, "these are the hands of a scribe."
"Only one tiny callous," I protested half-heartedly, studying the third finger from my thumb. A callous had formed on it as a result of years and years of writing. When I was younger, I had hated it and would look mournfully at the flawless hands of the other maidens. After a time I had accepted it; having flaws makes you different.
"The beautiful hands of a scribe," Legolas said, laughing at my protest. "You are perfect the way you are," he added, kissing me gently.
"Don't think you can get out of it so easily," I smiled, returning to my writing table to continue working. Legolas shook his head, muttering something about fickle women, and returned to his letter. I noticed that as he read, a smile broke out on his face, and occasionally he would laugh.
"What is that you are reading?" I inquired, curious.
Legolas looked up from the parchment he held in his hand. "A letter from my dear friend Gimli, Lord of the Glittering Caves."
"Gimli, Glóin's son?" I asked, and Legolas nodded in reply. I had never met the Dwarf, but knew he was an Elf-friend. "How fares the colony of the White Mountains?"
"They are well," Legolas said, smiling, "The Dwarves of Aglarond have done many great deeds for the Rohirrim and Gondor's men."
I nodded as he returned to the letter from his dear friend. I smiled to myself; it warmed my heart to see the one I held so dear so happy. My time in the shadows is over, I thought to myself, and much joy is to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What did you think? I added that last part about Gimli because all of a sudden I thought: Hey, what about Gimli? I didn't want to make him and Elráwien best buddies or anything, and thought it would disrupt the flow of the story if I included him in every chapter. So there it is, a little nod in his direction. Poor Gimli! Just a little note: In case you were wondering, Galáril isn't insane. He's just...driven. Very much so, in fact. So that's all for now! I had better go, Fatty is trying to escape again...