A/N Oh yea! Fresh blood! Thanks for all the reviews! I appreciate them like
no tomorrow! Sorry for the incredibly long delay, this chapter was rather
uninspired. I'm trying to move this story faster, move the romance faster
and all that but it's really hard. I'm considering just abandoning this
story because I've received very few reviews for it and one of them wasn't
good. However the odds in one out of fourteen are pretty good but I feel
like nobody is reading this story, so unless I either get really inspired,
or begged to continue by reviewers this might be the last chapter I right.
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Abby was observing the three dresses lain out on her bed with a skeptical eye. Truth be told, she'd rather be wearing one of those flimsy, flowing hobbity dresses that some ladies of the shire made for her, or some comfortable pants and a shirt...or breeches and a tunic. As most people here abouts called them. She thought, with a rueful laugh that it was amazing how so many of the teeny bopper fan fiction writers seemed to forget about the undergarments when writing their Mary-Suish stories. All the stories talked about long, following comfortable gowns that made even the ugly duckling instantly gorgeous, but they never even mentioned the evilness of what a woman was expected to wear underneath.
The hobbit's underwear had been hard enough. Loose fitting, silky Capri like underwear that was tied very tightly around the knee and waist. They were decidedly less tight around her regular underwear wearing area, and much tighter around the thighs, and that seemed hard enough on its own. Then a tight, very sheer tank toppish shirt that was tucked into those pant things gave her breast less support than they were used to. Abby was seriously afraid of going around with a jiggle. Then around her stomach was a corset, tied tight enough to act like a push up bra underneath her boobs but not tight enough to cut off her breathing or the likes. The corset was actually made of a soft comfortable material and the ties were lace. She had really minded those clothes after getting used to something other than bikini underwear and sports bras.
But now, this...She was almost positive that Elrond had these cloths customarily made so that they would kill her. She really, really, really, wasn't looking forward to stepping into those after training herself to like her nice comfortable hobbit clothes. First of all, the cut of two of the three dresses presented for her to wear this evening were simply awful for a short person. They would make her look fat in the stomach and thighs, a lot smaller in the bust and almost flat in the rear. Those kinds of dresses would suit well for a tall person making them look elegant and regal, but a blind man could see that Abby was anything but tall. While the third dress was a good cut for a person on the shorter side, the color was disgusting her. She hated brown. She frowned upon anything brown. She just did. This as far as browns went anyway was a beautiful shade of brown, dark and rich and creamy, with gold trims around the neck line and the cuffs. There was a lighter shade of brown on the sides with golden elvish leaves embroidered onto it. But it was brown. The v neck would set her shoulders off nicely but the dress was brown.
Her other two choices were of course absolutely perfect in every way, except for the cut. One was a shining white and the other a magnificent twilight blue. But damn, she would look like a deformed shit in them. Which sucked...a lot. She then averted her eyes to the "corset of doom" as she had dubbed it, which seemed like a steel cage designed to make your boobs high in the sky and to have no waist at all. Pain...the incredible amount of pain she knew that thing was going to bring was immense.
Much to her own dismay, she put it on anyway. "Must breath." She thought desperately while clutching her stomach as the dressing maid that was sent to her tied the strings in the back. Tightly. The dressing maid seated her on a wooden stool, so that she may dress her hair and Abby observed herself coolly. "My I do look good." She thought, "Damn if Steven can't forgive me when I look this good he never will be able to." She smiled sweetly at her reflection, as the maid pulled her brown hair into little twists and braidy things.
After slipping into the brown dress, excusing the maid and putting on a pair of shoes, there really wasn't anything else to do. So she waited.
In Steven's room which was on the other side of Elrond's hall, (can't have ladies and gentlemen sleeping to close to one another) Steven was in a near same dilemma. Boromir was sharing the room with him, even though there were plenty of empty spares on Abby's side, and while Steven was dressing himself in the comfortable clothes of his homeland that had come with him, Elrond had "graciously" provided him with elven garbs. "Elves suck ass." He mumbled while trying to put on the objectionable foreign garments.
Boromir chuckled, "Most mortals share those sentiments."
Steven looked up at him from the breeches which he tried to pull on.
"Really?" he asked curious, "why?"
"All elves are skilled with sword and bow, or so it seems, live for
eternity, can ride even the fastest and wildest of horses, walk on
snow, never get a hangover, and have everlasting beauty. Mortals I
fear are not quite as lucky. Many hate and fear the elven kind because
of the advantages they have over us. And many elves look down upon
men." Boromir said lacing his boots.
"So elves are like walking talking models that live forever?" Steven
asked.
"I know not what a model is Lord Steven, but elves do walk, talk, and
live forever." Boromir replied.
Silence enveloped the pair as they continued to dress, "Why does Lady
Abigail hate me?" Boromir finally asked breaking the uncomfortable
silence.
Steven let out a low, hollow sigh. The last person he wanted to talk
about right then was Abby, not when he was so mad at her. "She....." he
couldn't say, "On a whole she hates all the men from Gondor because
they are weak when approached with the ring of power, the only men
from Gondor she likes are Faramir and Aragorn because they overcome
the urge to use the Ring of power. She particularly hates you because
you leer after it through the majority of the movie and are rude to
Elrond and Legolas, and Aragorn during the council, and nobody who is
rude to Aragorn and Legolas is okay in her book."
No, that wouldn't do at all....
"Abby has a strong distrust of men as a whole." Steven sighed.
"Does she?" Boromir asked not believing it, "But she converses so
easily with the Halflings, and the wizard, as well as you yourself!
The only person who she seems to have a strain around is Aragorn, but
still this does not explain why she looks upon me with such loathing."
"Abby's just slow to..." he groped around for the proper words..."She
isn't exactly the friendliest of a person. She can ooze on the
charisma when she needs to, but really she's a little Spartan!"
Boromir looked at him blankly raising a brow at the unfamiliar term...
"Obviously you know nothing about Grecian history.....Uh...Vixen, Wench,
Witch?"
Boromir grinned, "I see."
Both men continue to groom Boromir sitting in front of a mirror
clasped a brooch onto his cloak and then said, "How do I earn the
Lady's trust?"
"Why do you want to earn the ladies trust?" Steven asked narrowing his
eyes.
Boromir laughed heartily, 'What do you think my intentions to the Lady
dishonorable? She is but a child! I have no reason to wish love of
her."
"For a child," Steven snarled darkly, over protectiveness overcoming
all other senses, "Some gentlemen sure do seem to deem her a whole lot
of women."
Boromir merely laughed, trying to not worry about the boys over
protectiveness. All boys were overprotective, over everything and
anything. He knew himself that it was often hard to restrain himself
from slashing the throats of those who dishonored his little brother,
even know that they were grown and Faramir could fend for himself.
Dinner with elves was....very odd. It was as eloquent and elegant as
you could imagine, but elves are a rather standoffish race, and Abby
was wondering how a mortal man like Aragorn could fall in love with
one. They said nothing at the dinner, absolutely nothing. Arwen and
Abby were the only ones even attempting to converse with one another
and it wasn't falling well.
"And so from where do you fare Lady Abigail?" Arwen asked tentatively.
"I fare from Sycamore Court, in the providence of New Jersey." Abby
replied pushing some odd asparagus carrot dish around on her plate.
"I have never heard of such a place," Arwen said a tad suspiciously,
"And our scriptures tell of lands old and long forgotten, in the North
South East and West, I would have to say you lie." Abby shot a look
at Gandalf who was looking at anyone but her, stupid codger, and
Steven was giving her the silent treatment, dumb jock, and the only
person that had been actually talking to her was Boromir and he looked
just as politely interested as Arwen did, crazy power hungry freak.
Abby knew vague generalities were the only thing that could save her.
"Not technically." She squeaked searching around the long table for a
friendly face.
She found one.
Unfortunately, it was Pippin, "Gandalf explained to us all about it
this afternoon." He said slowly as if he was talking to a rather
stupid person, "You see Abby----"a glare, "Excuse me, Lady Abigail,
isn't from Middle-Earth. She's from Earth, plain and simple like that
you see..."
He continued to rattle on and Steven's ears turned a bright pink, and
Abby was silently yelling, "SHUT UP PIP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
"She was magically teleported along with Steve---Lord Steven, to
Middle Earth, through her television. Now I'm not sure what a
television is..." Pippin rattled on.
"Ahahahahahaha!" Steven laughed, "Ahahahahaha! I remember that night!
That's the same night that we got piss drunk at the tavern! OH WASN'T
THAT SO FUNNY MERRY?"
"What...."Merry asked but after seeing the glare that Abby gave him, it
quickly turned into a, "What? You thought that was funnier then the
time Pip got intoxicated and thought I was his mother?"
"Why am I not remembering any of these times I got drunk?" Pippin
asked wide eyed.
And that was the end of the dinner conversation.
After dinner, they headed off to hear poetry and music of all kinds.
....And they had thought that elves were standoffish.
Maybe it was that they weren't in their own element. But as soon as
they started their singing and poetry reading, it was like the elven
version or Woodstock. Enthusiastic applause and lots of alcohol. Of
course there was no drug use, sex, or hoards of hippies. So then
again maybe it wasn't like Woodstock at all.
But the point is, that once and elf is doing something they love, they
really get into it.
They really, really, really do.
Surreal really.
A/N and so ends chapter 11! Please review!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Abby was observing the three dresses lain out on her bed with a skeptical eye. Truth be told, she'd rather be wearing one of those flimsy, flowing hobbity dresses that some ladies of the shire made for her, or some comfortable pants and a shirt...or breeches and a tunic. As most people here abouts called them. She thought, with a rueful laugh that it was amazing how so many of the teeny bopper fan fiction writers seemed to forget about the undergarments when writing their Mary-Suish stories. All the stories talked about long, following comfortable gowns that made even the ugly duckling instantly gorgeous, but they never even mentioned the evilness of what a woman was expected to wear underneath.
The hobbit's underwear had been hard enough. Loose fitting, silky Capri like underwear that was tied very tightly around the knee and waist. They were decidedly less tight around her regular underwear wearing area, and much tighter around the thighs, and that seemed hard enough on its own. Then a tight, very sheer tank toppish shirt that was tucked into those pant things gave her breast less support than they were used to. Abby was seriously afraid of going around with a jiggle. Then around her stomach was a corset, tied tight enough to act like a push up bra underneath her boobs but not tight enough to cut off her breathing or the likes. The corset was actually made of a soft comfortable material and the ties were lace. She had really minded those clothes after getting used to something other than bikini underwear and sports bras.
But now, this...She was almost positive that Elrond had these cloths customarily made so that they would kill her. She really, really, really, wasn't looking forward to stepping into those after training herself to like her nice comfortable hobbit clothes. First of all, the cut of two of the three dresses presented for her to wear this evening were simply awful for a short person. They would make her look fat in the stomach and thighs, a lot smaller in the bust and almost flat in the rear. Those kinds of dresses would suit well for a tall person making them look elegant and regal, but a blind man could see that Abby was anything but tall. While the third dress was a good cut for a person on the shorter side, the color was disgusting her. She hated brown. She frowned upon anything brown. She just did. This as far as browns went anyway was a beautiful shade of brown, dark and rich and creamy, with gold trims around the neck line and the cuffs. There was a lighter shade of brown on the sides with golden elvish leaves embroidered onto it. But it was brown. The v neck would set her shoulders off nicely but the dress was brown.
Her other two choices were of course absolutely perfect in every way, except for the cut. One was a shining white and the other a magnificent twilight blue. But damn, she would look like a deformed shit in them. Which sucked...a lot. She then averted her eyes to the "corset of doom" as she had dubbed it, which seemed like a steel cage designed to make your boobs high in the sky and to have no waist at all. Pain...the incredible amount of pain she knew that thing was going to bring was immense.
Much to her own dismay, she put it on anyway. "Must breath." She thought desperately while clutching her stomach as the dressing maid that was sent to her tied the strings in the back. Tightly. The dressing maid seated her on a wooden stool, so that she may dress her hair and Abby observed herself coolly. "My I do look good." She thought, "Damn if Steven can't forgive me when I look this good he never will be able to." She smiled sweetly at her reflection, as the maid pulled her brown hair into little twists and braidy things.
After slipping into the brown dress, excusing the maid and putting on a pair of shoes, there really wasn't anything else to do. So she waited.
In Steven's room which was on the other side of Elrond's hall, (can't have ladies and gentlemen sleeping to close to one another) Steven was in a near same dilemma. Boromir was sharing the room with him, even though there were plenty of empty spares on Abby's side, and while Steven was dressing himself in the comfortable clothes of his homeland that had come with him, Elrond had "graciously" provided him with elven garbs. "Elves suck ass." He mumbled while trying to put on the objectionable foreign garments.
Boromir chuckled, "Most mortals share those sentiments."
Steven looked up at him from the breeches which he tried to pull on.
"Really?" he asked curious, "why?"
"All elves are skilled with sword and bow, or so it seems, live for
eternity, can ride even the fastest and wildest of horses, walk on
snow, never get a hangover, and have everlasting beauty. Mortals I
fear are not quite as lucky. Many hate and fear the elven kind because
of the advantages they have over us. And many elves look down upon
men." Boromir said lacing his boots.
"So elves are like walking talking models that live forever?" Steven
asked.
"I know not what a model is Lord Steven, but elves do walk, talk, and
live forever." Boromir replied.
Silence enveloped the pair as they continued to dress, "Why does Lady
Abigail hate me?" Boromir finally asked breaking the uncomfortable
silence.
Steven let out a low, hollow sigh. The last person he wanted to talk
about right then was Abby, not when he was so mad at her. "She....." he
couldn't say, "On a whole she hates all the men from Gondor because
they are weak when approached with the ring of power, the only men
from Gondor she likes are Faramir and Aragorn because they overcome
the urge to use the Ring of power. She particularly hates you because
you leer after it through the majority of the movie and are rude to
Elrond and Legolas, and Aragorn during the council, and nobody who is
rude to Aragorn and Legolas is okay in her book."
No, that wouldn't do at all....
"Abby has a strong distrust of men as a whole." Steven sighed.
"Does she?" Boromir asked not believing it, "But she converses so
easily with the Halflings, and the wizard, as well as you yourself!
The only person who she seems to have a strain around is Aragorn, but
still this does not explain why she looks upon me with such loathing."
"Abby's just slow to..." he groped around for the proper words..."She
isn't exactly the friendliest of a person. She can ooze on the
charisma when she needs to, but really she's a little Spartan!"
Boromir looked at him blankly raising a brow at the unfamiliar term...
"Obviously you know nothing about Grecian history.....Uh...Vixen, Wench,
Witch?"
Boromir grinned, "I see."
Both men continue to groom Boromir sitting in front of a mirror
clasped a brooch onto his cloak and then said, "How do I earn the
Lady's trust?"
"Why do you want to earn the ladies trust?" Steven asked narrowing his
eyes.
Boromir laughed heartily, 'What do you think my intentions to the Lady
dishonorable? She is but a child! I have no reason to wish love of
her."
"For a child," Steven snarled darkly, over protectiveness overcoming
all other senses, "Some gentlemen sure do seem to deem her a whole lot
of women."
Boromir merely laughed, trying to not worry about the boys over
protectiveness. All boys were overprotective, over everything and
anything. He knew himself that it was often hard to restrain himself
from slashing the throats of those who dishonored his little brother,
even know that they were grown and Faramir could fend for himself.
Dinner with elves was....very odd. It was as eloquent and elegant as
you could imagine, but elves are a rather standoffish race, and Abby
was wondering how a mortal man like Aragorn could fall in love with
one. They said nothing at the dinner, absolutely nothing. Arwen and
Abby were the only ones even attempting to converse with one another
and it wasn't falling well.
"And so from where do you fare Lady Abigail?" Arwen asked tentatively.
"I fare from Sycamore Court, in the providence of New Jersey." Abby
replied pushing some odd asparagus carrot dish around on her plate.
"I have never heard of such a place," Arwen said a tad suspiciously,
"And our scriptures tell of lands old and long forgotten, in the North
South East and West, I would have to say you lie." Abby shot a look
at Gandalf who was looking at anyone but her, stupid codger, and
Steven was giving her the silent treatment, dumb jock, and the only
person that had been actually talking to her was Boromir and he looked
just as politely interested as Arwen did, crazy power hungry freak.
Abby knew vague generalities were the only thing that could save her.
"Not technically." She squeaked searching around the long table for a
friendly face.
She found one.
Unfortunately, it was Pippin, "Gandalf explained to us all about it
this afternoon." He said slowly as if he was talking to a rather
stupid person, "You see Abby----"a glare, "Excuse me, Lady Abigail,
isn't from Middle-Earth. She's from Earth, plain and simple like that
you see..."
He continued to rattle on and Steven's ears turned a bright pink, and
Abby was silently yelling, "SHUT UP PIP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
"She was magically teleported along with Steve---Lord Steven, to
Middle Earth, through her television. Now I'm not sure what a
television is..." Pippin rattled on.
"Ahahahahahaha!" Steven laughed, "Ahahahahaha! I remember that night!
That's the same night that we got piss drunk at the tavern! OH WASN'T
THAT SO FUNNY MERRY?"
"What...."Merry asked but after seeing the glare that Abby gave him, it
quickly turned into a, "What? You thought that was funnier then the
time Pip got intoxicated and thought I was his mother?"
"Why am I not remembering any of these times I got drunk?" Pippin
asked wide eyed.
And that was the end of the dinner conversation.
After dinner, they headed off to hear poetry and music of all kinds.
....And they had thought that elves were standoffish.
Maybe it was that they weren't in their own element. But as soon as
they started their singing and poetry reading, it was like the elven
version or Woodstock. Enthusiastic applause and lots of alcohol. Of
course there was no drug use, sex, or hoards of hippies. So then
again maybe it wasn't like Woodstock at all.
But the point is, that once and elf is doing something they love, they
really get into it.
They really, really, really do.
Surreal really.
A/N and so ends chapter 11! Please review!