Disclaimer: I only own Cerithrandil and other OC characters.
The Prince And The Pauper
Summary: Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, is fed up with the tiring demands that come with his royal title. He has no friends, except snobby court men and women. Cerithrandil, a peasant that lives on the outskirts of Mirkwood, is tired of his family sometimes starving. He thinks that Legolas is a snob because he's a prince and won't do anything about the poor families that live in his small village. But when the two meet they discover a disturbing fact, they look exactly alike. They make a deal to switch lives for one week. Will they be able to pull it off?
CHAPTER 1
Cerithrandil crouched on a sturdy branch of a tree, trying to be as silent as possible. His bow was fitted with one of his long slender arrows.
A huge buck was grazing in a clearing. The elf had been tracking it down for weeks. Its meat would be enough to feed his family for several months.
He bent his bowstring, trying to aim accurately. He fired the arrow and it sliced cleanly through the air. The deer bowed its head back down for more of the lush green grass, the arrow missing its intended spot.
It hit a tree trunk with a soundly 'thunk.' The buck's head snapped up at the noise. In the blink of an eye it had taken off. Cerithrandil cursed under his breath in elvish. Just as it was disappearing into the dense forest, Cerithrandil jumped up and took after it.
He ran through the woods, the buck just a flurry of light brown and white. His legs pumped madly, trying to match the speed of the swift legs of the deer. As he sprinted through the forest, he unsheathed his knife. The golden engravings sparkled in the sunlight that leaked through the tall boughs of the trees.
Murmuring a prayer to the Valar, he hurled his knife at the deer. It missed the flesh of the deer by a nose and instead embedded itself into a moss- covered log.
Cerithrandil grabbed the hilt of his knife and put it back in its sheath. He looked at the rapidly diminishing form of the deer.
'I have been hunting for one week, and I have not managed to get anything,' Cerithrandil thought miserably. 'What will I tell Ada and Naneth (Ada- father, Naneth-mother)?'
Slowly, Cerithrandil turned around in the other direction walking towards his home, the flame of his spirit momentarily put out.
"Move your feet!" Belegorn said, blocking Legolas's blow swiftly. Beads of perspiration dripped down Legolas's temples as he fought with the sword master. Belegorn had barely broken a sweat.
They were in a private practice field, designated only to Legolas and his trainers. It was a secluded area, surrounded by trees and foliage.
The only sound that could be heard was the clashing of metals, and perhaps if you listened hard enough, the pleasant chirping of the birds perched on the lofty branches of the great trees.
Legolas concentrated on his opponent, always anticipating his next move. Suddenly, and to his own amazement, he spied a weak spot. It looked like the strength in Belegorn's arm was gradually beginning to wane.
Legolas was about to attack, when suddenly Belegorn tossed his willowy sword into the air and caught it in his left. They went back to attacking and parrying, and after a few minutes Belegorn had Legolas on the ground with his sword pointed dangerously close to his throat.
After a minute of staring each other in the eyes stonily, Belegorn reached a hand down to the prince, withdrawing his blade. Legolas grasped his hand firmly and pulled himself to his feet.
"You still need work," Belegorn said. Legolas remained silent, brushing the dirt off of his tunic and trousers. "Legolas?" Belegorn said when Legolas didn't respond with a witty retort like he usually did.
Without warning, Legolas lunged forward, prepared to tackle Belegorn to the ground. Belegorn neatly sidestepped him and Legolas hit the ground, cushioned slightly by the supple grass.
Legolas rolled over onto his back, groaning in the process. Belegorn leaned over him, casting a shadow over his form.
"Always be prepared for an attack," Belegorn said, smiling smugly as Legolas massaged his sore chin. When Belegorn held his hand out to Legolas, he took it gratefully, and hauled himself up to his feet.
"One day, I will beat you," Legolas said, shaking his fist in a playful manner.
"Yes, one day you will be a skilled enough warrior to beat me," Belegorn said. Legolas knew that some of the even most experienced and practiced warriors were unable to defeat Belegorn in swordplay.
"You have fought hard today. Go get some rest," Belegorn said, clapping him on the back. Legolas nodded and headed back towards the palace.
Cerithrandil trudged up to the small cabin he called home. In his arms he held to conies. This was the pitiful excuse of one week's worth of hunting tirelessly. He let out a disheartened sigh, letting himself inside.
As he stepped inside he laid the two rabbits on the wooden table. Taking off his pack, he set it on one of the three wood crafted chairs. Cerithrandil surveyed his home at a snail's pace.
In the middle of the room was a wooden table with three chairs set up around it. There was a small fireplace near the counter and a hallway could be seen leading off to his and his parents' room. There were two small windows, letting the natural light leak into the room, also carrying a refreshing breeze with it.
Cerithrandil picked up his pack and headed towards his room. He collapsed onto his mattress, stuffed with straw and cloth to make it a bit more comfortable. There was a shelf in the corner and a washbasin on a dresser. Most of the furniture had nicks and dents in it where the wood had chipped off.
Cerithrandil began to dose off. As he began to slip into the world of elven dreams, he could hear a door open and close somewhere far away.
I know this was short, but it's only a short beginning. Chapters will get longer or your money back guaranteed!
Review please! :oD
The Prince And The Pauper
Summary: Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, is fed up with the tiring demands that come with his royal title. He has no friends, except snobby court men and women. Cerithrandil, a peasant that lives on the outskirts of Mirkwood, is tired of his family sometimes starving. He thinks that Legolas is a snob because he's a prince and won't do anything about the poor families that live in his small village. But when the two meet they discover a disturbing fact, they look exactly alike. They make a deal to switch lives for one week. Will they be able to pull it off?
CHAPTER 1
Cerithrandil crouched on a sturdy branch of a tree, trying to be as silent as possible. His bow was fitted with one of his long slender arrows.
A huge buck was grazing in a clearing. The elf had been tracking it down for weeks. Its meat would be enough to feed his family for several months.
He bent his bowstring, trying to aim accurately. He fired the arrow and it sliced cleanly through the air. The deer bowed its head back down for more of the lush green grass, the arrow missing its intended spot.
It hit a tree trunk with a soundly 'thunk.' The buck's head snapped up at the noise. In the blink of an eye it had taken off. Cerithrandil cursed under his breath in elvish. Just as it was disappearing into the dense forest, Cerithrandil jumped up and took after it.
He ran through the woods, the buck just a flurry of light brown and white. His legs pumped madly, trying to match the speed of the swift legs of the deer. As he sprinted through the forest, he unsheathed his knife. The golden engravings sparkled in the sunlight that leaked through the tall boughs of the trees.
Murmuring a prayer to the Valar, he hurled his knife at the deer. It missed the flesh of the deer by a nose and instead embedded itself into a moss- covered log.
Cerithrandil grabbed the hilt of his knife and put it back in its sheath. He looked at the rapidly diminishing form of the deer.
'I have been hunting for one week, and I have not managed to get anything,' Cerithrandil thought miserably. 'What will I tell Ada and Naneth (Ada- father, Naneth-mother)?'
Slowly, Cerithrandil turned around in the other direction walking towards his home, the flame of his spirit momentarily put out.
"Move your feet!" Belegorn said, blocking Legolas's blow swiftly. Beads of perspiration dripped down Legolas's temples as he fought with the sword master. Belegorn had barely broken a sweat.
They were in a private practice field, designated only to Legolas and his trainers. It was a secluded area, surrounded by trees and foliage.
The only sound that could be heard was the clashing of metals, and perhaps if you listened hard enough, the pleasant chirping of the birds perched on the lofty branches of the great trees.
Legolas concentrated on his opponent, always anticipating his next move. Suddenly, and to his own amazement, he spied a weak spot. It looked like the strength in Belegorn's arm was gradually beginning to wane.
Legolas was about to attack, when suddenly Belegorn tossed his willowy sword into the air and caught it in his left. They went back to attacking and parrying, and after a few minutes Belegorn had Legolas on the ground with his sword pointed dangerously close to his throat.
After a minute of staring each other in the eyes stonily, Belegorn reached a hand down to the prince, withdrawing his blade. Legolas grasped his hand firmly and pulled himself to his feet.
"You still need work," Belegorn said. Legolas remained silent, brushing the dirt off of his tunic and trousers. "Legolas?" Belegorn said when Legolas didn't respond with a witty retort like he usually did.
Without warning, Legolas lunged forward, prepared to tackle Belegorn to the ground. Belegorn neatly sidestepped him and Legolas hit the ground, cushioned slightly by the supple grass.
Legolas rolled over onto his back, groaning in the process. Belegorn leaned over him, casting a shadow over his form.
"Always be prepared for an attack," Belegorn said, smiling smugly as Legolas massaged his sore chin. When Belegorn held his hand out to Legolas, he took it gratefully, and hauled himself up to his feet.
"One day, I will beat you," Legolas said, shaking his fist in a playful manner.
"Yes, one day you will be a skilled enough warrior to beat me," Belegorn said. Legolas knew that some of the even most experienced and practiced warriors were unable to defeat Belegorn in swordplay.
"You have fought hard today. Go get some rest," Belegorn said, clapping him on the back. Legolas nodded and headed back towards the palace.
Cerithrandil trudged up to the small cabin he called home. In his arms he held to conies. This was the pitiful excuse of one week's worth of hunting tirelessly. He let out a disheartened sigh, letting himself inside.
As he stepped inside he laid the two rabbits on the wooden table. Taking off his pack, he set it on one of the three wood crafted chairs. Cerithrandil surveyed his home at a snail's pace.
In the middle of the room was a wooden table with three chairs set up around it. There was a small fireplace near the counter and a hallway could be seen leading off to his and his parents' room. There were two small windows, letting the natural light leak into the room, also carrying a refreshing breeze with it.
Cerithrandil picked up his pack and headed towards his room. He collapsed onto his mattress, stuffed with straw and cloth to make it a bit more comfortable. There was a shelf in the corner and a washbasin on a dresser. Most of the furniture had nicks and dents in it where the wood had chipped off.
Cerithrandil began to dose off. As he began to slip into the world of elven dreams, he could hear a door open and close somewhere far away.
I know this was short, but it's only a short beginning. Chapters will get longer or your money back guaranteed!
Review please! :oD