Chapter Two
Sleeping Bag Escapade
So here it is: Friday. I stand timidly in line at the band retreat, waiting to sign in. My backpack hangs heavily on my right shoulder and my huge, grey sleeping bag rests at my feet.
My sister, Anna, smashes me accidently with my pillow which she carries under her arm. I groan.
"Sorry," she says. "Look, Joy. There's Scott and Elisa. And over there next to the fireplace Kaitlyn's sitting on her bag. Hi!"
She stops to wave at her friend, symultaneously knocking me repeatedly with the pillow. Outwardly I'm upset, yet inside I can't help laughing. It always amazes me how my sister can be so comfortable in situations that give me the creeps.
Then I hear her gasp.
"What?" I ask, sounding annoyed.
Her voice is barely a whisper, "It's the Legolas guy."
Now I really laugh. "So?"
She shrugs her shoulders. "Oh, nothing."
I glance around the room until I see him. Yep, there he is: Mr. Percussion himself. Why do we call him Legolas? Simple enough: I don't know his name.
It wasn't that I hadn't had my chance to learn it. No, I'd been introduced before, last fall at the beginning of rehearsals. I distinctly remember Scott turning to me and saying, "Joy, meet --." There my brain hits a blank and substitutes Legolas. Memory has played a fun little game with my mind and now, lacking the courage to ask him myself, I refer to him as Legolas. I hope Tolkien won't be offended.
"Mae govannen!" I hear my sister say in a sing-song voice. "Back to reality, Joy! It's your turn."
I blush nervously and lug my stuff up to the table. After receiving my nametag, room number, and rehearsal schedule my sister leads the way out of the building. Once under the open skys she breaks into song.
"When the COLD of WINter COMES!
Starless NIGHT will COVer DAY!
With the VEILing OF the SUN!
We will WALK in bitter RAIN!"
"You know, Anna, we really ought to invest in singing lessons," I mutter.
Whap! The pillow crashes down onto my head. I trip, dropping the sleeping bag. It bounces merrily down the hill, followed by myself and Anna running frantically behind it. It lands nonchalantly against an overgrown shrub, then rolls into a bed of barkdust.
"Nóla lín lhost!" I exclaim, picking the splinters of wood off my bag.
"Well, I wasn't the brilliant one who dropped the sleeping bag!" she returns.
I grumble under my breath as we walk up the path and into the retreat center's dormitory. After debating which bunk to take, I fling my luggage onto a bare matress and sit down.
"Have fun at camp, Alasse!" Anna says, throwing the pillow to me.
Watching her skip out of the room I sigh and even feel a slight tang of dissappointment that I'm now on my own.
"Namarié, mellon-lín," I whisper.
Elvish translations:
Mae govannen - Well met (Used in this story to say something like "Yo, Dude!")
Nóla lín lhost! - Your head is empty (an insult)
Alasse - Joy
Namarié, mellon-lín - Farewell, my friend
Author note: Okay, everyone. Thanks for reviewing! My sister posted this to surprise me, because she likes it. I wasn't really sure it was ready to go online, yet here it is...so oh well. :) Vane Alasse