Disclaimer:
LeggoMyLegolas40 to FBI Agents: I don't own anything, really! Ask Legolas and Cerithrandil here!
Legolas: Yep, she's telling the truth.
Cerithrandil: Well she owns me.
Legolas: Haha!
Cerithrandil: growls, and pounces on Legolas. ::They get into a heated cat fight::
FBI Agents: Tell it to the judge!
LeggoMYLegolas40: NOOOOOOOOO!!
Sorry about how short the first chapter was, but it was just a teeny weensy launch.
CHAPTER 2
Cerithrandil awoke with a start when he heard the slam of a creaky wooden door. Leaping to his feet, a dribble of saliva running down his chin, he grabbed the knife that he kept under his pillow. He looked to the door and saw that his lifelong friend, Taraweil, who was a maid in the palace, was standing in the doorframe. She was a couple hundred years older than Cerithrandil, but the two remained very good friends.
"Relax, it's only me," she said, looking at her friend as if grabbing a knife out from under your pillow and wielding it like a madman, was an everyday occurrence. She plopped herself down on his bed as Cerithrandil carefully placed his knife back under his pillow.
"I don't understand why you still keep that knife under your pillow. Nobody has ever really discovered you or your parents before," Taraweil said, falling back onto the straw mattress. Cerithrandil wiped the drool from his chin on the sleeve of his tunic.
"Maybe if that snot of a prince gave some effort, he'd know about the elves starving out here," Cerithrandil said coldly.
"He's really not that bad. I've never actually had a real conversation with him, but the other maids tell me that he's polite," Taraweil said thoughtfully.
"Of course he's nice to you. You're the one washing his precious satin under garments for him." Cerithrandil fell back onto the mattress, dust rising up to greet him. An uncomfortable silence settled over the two.
"How was the hunt?" Taraweil asked, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous water.
"Awful. I ended up chasing one buck for the whole time and he got away," Cerithrandil said glumly.
"Well your Ada managed to hunt down a few conies. He stopped by my house to talk to my mother and father," Taraweil said, trying to sound cheerful, hoping that her mood would rub off onto Cerithrandil somehow. He sighed dejectedly. The sound of a door opening and closing met his ears.
"That should be Ada and Naneth," Cerithrandil said, standing up to stretch. He strode out of his room with Taraweil in tow.
"Cerithrandil!" his mother said as she captured her son for an embrace.
"Where is Ada?" Cerithrandil asked curiously.
"He is skinning the conies in the back," his mother said, taking a rusty metal pot down from one of the gnarled hooks and filling it with water from a wooden pail next to the door.
Cerithrandil exited through the front and made his way to the back of their feeble cabin while Taraweil helped his mother get a fire going. He found his father kneeling next to a rock, blood splattered in a few places.
"I'm sorry that I was not able to get any food for our stores," Cerithrandil said, more guilt building up on his shoulders as he realized how close winter was.
"Do not worry about it. Better something than nothing," his father said forgivingly, holding four bloody slabs of meat in his arms. They traipsed back into the house where the pot was hanging over a fine flame. His father laid the meat on the counter and his mother chopped it into cubes with a dull iron cleaver that was sporting several nicks and scratches.
Placing the pieces of meat into the pot along with a few herbs and spices from the woods, his mother mixed it with a chipped ladle that Cerithrandil had pilfered from the palace when he was only a child.
When the stew was finished, his mother ladled it into bowls, handing one to Taraweil and Cerithrandil first. Giving another one to her husband, she served herself last.
When the last remains of the stew was finished, Taraweil rose from her seat and bade them goodbye, thanking them profusely for the meal.
*
Legolas twiddled his thumbs in his lap as the council members droned on.
"Legolas what do you think?" his father questioned him from across the oblong table.
"Well, uh, I think..." Legolas scrambled for something to say. Thranduil closed his eyes exasperatedly. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he looked at his son. Standing up, he took Legolas by the arm, leading him out of the council room.
"Legolas, you must begin taking your role as prince of Mirkwood seriously," Thranduil said, scrutinizing Legolas sternly.
"But father," Legolas began. His father intercepted.
"No buts Legolas. I just want you to be happy," Thranduil said. Legolas kept his eyes on the floor.
"Then let me be normal, I do not wish to be a prince or bowed to. I don't want to be different!" Legolas exclaimed, his words coming out harsher than he meant for them to.
Just then, the door opened and the council members filed out.
The last one sneered at Legolas with an upturned nose. Legolas scowled, and stuck his tongue out.
Thranduil raised his eyebrows. He put both his hands on Legolas's shoulders.
"You must take after your mother," he said with a warm, reminiscent smile. Legolas smiled, remembering his beloved Naneth. Thranduil gave one last look at his son before walking away.
Sighing Legolas took off for his room.
When he arrived there, he strode over to his balcony. Grasping the wooden railing, he swung himself over the side, dropping down to the ground. Legolas landed surefooted on the grassy floor.
Staring to his right, he saw a group of males about his age practicing with their archery. They did not wave and invite him to join them, nor did they bow at his feet and grovel. He was grateful for the absence of their bowing, stuttering, and most of all, the 'your highnesses' and 'my lords'. But he did feel like having some company from time to time.
Legolas leapt into the boughs of a nearby tree, hurdling himself from tree to tree. Soon, his surroundings were only blurs of color, passing him by swiftly.
When he came to a complete halt, night had fallen and the stars had revealed themselves. He lounged, perched comfortably atop a branch. The stars twinkled overhead, the darkened sky painted an onyx black. The moonlight cast ghostly shadows on the forest floor.
Deciding he'd rather walk than climb the trees, Legolas scrambled to the ground. He figured his father would be wondering of his whereabouts, but he did not turn around. Instead, he walked on along the trodden dirt path.
It was so silent that you could hear the quiet whistling of the wind and the faint rustle of the leaves. Trees swaying, their emerald green leaves danced to the quiet breeze that flew by.
Suddenly, Legolas could see an odd form sitting on the horizon. It resembled a house, albeit a small one. Curiosity awoken, Legolas drew towards it, treading on silent feet.
*
Cerithrandil lit the stub of a wax candle near his bedside. Taking a worn out leather bound book he opened the crinkled pages. Before long, he was enfolded in the adventurous tale. His ears pricked. There was a creak and then a muffled bang.
Cerithrandil whipped his knife out from under his pillow and rose to his feet. Sweeping out the door, he rushed to the front door.
*
As Legolas got closer, he realized that it was indeed a cabin. Descending up the steps, he cringed when there was a loud creak. Just then, he stubbed his toe on a crooked rusty nail that was holding the stairs together. He half yelled, half whispered an oath to himself, cursing again when he realized that he had practically shouted.
All of a sudden, the door to the cabin creaked open and a shadowed figure revealed itself. He had the frame of an elf and Legolas could see that he was wielding a lethal looking blade. He dared not breath, or utter a single word.
The person's head jerked abruptly in his direction.
Legolas didn't hesitate to pull his own knife out from his boot. Just as he did, the person lunged, tackling him to the ground. The two wrestled for a minute. Legolas easily pinned his opponent to the ground. The man kicked at Legolas and the two rolled over, landing in a patch of moonlight.
Recovering from the swift kick, Legolas looked at the face of his attacker. There were two audible and simultaneous gasps of astonishment. It took a long while for Legolas's brain to register.
Blond hair, azure eyes, same nose, same high cheekbones, and the same lips, it seemed that Legolas was staring into a mirror image of himself.
*
Cerithrandil gasped as he stared into the face of his attacker. Blond hair, azure eyes, same high cheekbones, and the same lips, it seemed that he was staring into a mirror image of himself.
Good? Bad? Please give me your feedback. I want to see if I should continue this story. And I know it's not very funny now but it will get funnier, not crazy, insane clown funny, but funny. Sorry I didn't update for a long time, but I was kind of busy.
For those of you who've read my other story, Me And My Best Friend's Wedding, Taraweil has a small part in waking a certain reluctant golden- haired elven teen.
REVIEW!!!!!
LeggoMyLegolas40 to FBI Agents: I don't own anything, really! Ask Legolas and Cerithrandil here!
Legolas: Yep, she's telling the truth.
Cerithrandil: Well she owns me.
Legolas: Haha!
Cerithrandil: growls, and pounces on Legolas. ::They get into a heated cat fight::
FBI Agents: Tell it to the judge!
LeggoMYLegolas40: NOOOOOOOOO!!
Sorry about how short the first chapter was, but it was just a teeny weensy launch.
CHAPTER 2
Cerithrandil awoke with a start when he heard the slam of a creaky wooden door. Leaping to his feet, a dribble of saliva running down his chin, he grabbed the knife that he kept under his pillow. He looked to the door and saw that his lifelong friend, Taraweil, who was a maid in the palace, was standing in the doorframe. She was a couple hundred years older than Cerithrandil, but the two remained very good friends.
"Relax, it's only me," she said, looking at her friend as if grabbing a knife out from under your pillow and wielding it like a madman, was an everyday occurrence. She plopped herself down on his bed as Cerithrandil carefully placed his knife back under his pillow.
"I don't understand why you still keep that knife under your pillow. Nobody has ever really discovered you or your parents before," Taraweil said, falling back onto the straw mattress. Cerithrandil wiped the drool from his chin on the sleeve of his tunic.
"Maybe if that snot of a prince gave some effort, he'd know about the elves starving out here," Cerithrandil said coldly.
"He's really not that bad. I've never actually had a real conversation with him, but the other maids tell me that he's polite," Taraweil said thoughtfully.
"Of course he's nice to you. You're the one washing his precious satin under garments for him." Cerithrandil fell back onto the mattress, dust rising up to greet him. An uncomfortable silence settled over the two.
"How was the hunt?" Taraweil asked, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous water.
"Awful. I ended up chasing one buck for the whole time and he got away," Cerithrandil said glumly.
"Well your Ada managed to hunt down a few conies. He stopped by my house to talk to my mother and father," Taraweil said, trying to sound cheerful, hoping that her mood would rub off onto Cerithrandil somehow. He sighed dejectedly. The sound of a door opening and closing met his ears.
"That should be Ada and Naneth," Cerithrandil said, standing up to stretch. He strode out of his room with Taraweil in tow.
"Cerithrandil!" his mother said as she captured her son for an embrace.
"Where is Ada?" Cerithrandil asked curiously.
"He is skinning the conies in the back," his mother said, taking a rusty metal pot down from one of the gnarled hooks and filling it with water from a wooden pail next to the door.
Cerithrandil exited through the front and made his way to the back of their feeble cabin while Taraweil helped his mother get a fire going. He found his father kneeling next to a rock, blood splattered in a few places.
"I'm sorry that I was not able to get any food for our stores," Cerithrandil said, more guilt building up on his shoulders as he realized how close winter was.
"Do not worry about it. Better something than nothing," his father said forgivingly, holding four bloody slabs of meat in his arms. They traipsed back into the house where the pot was hanging over a fine flame. His father laid the meat on the counter and his mother chopped it into cubes with a dull iron cleaver that was sporting several nicks and scratches.
Placing the pieces of meat into the pot along with a few herbs and spices from the woods, his mother mixed it with a chipped ladle that Cerithrandil had pilfered from the palace when he was only a child.
When the stew was finished, his mother ladled it into bowls, handing one to Taraweil and Cerithrandil first. Giving another one to her husband, she served herself last.
When the last remains of the stew was finished, Taraweil rose from her seat and bade them goodbye, thanking them profusely for the meal.
*
Legolas twiddled his thumbs in his lap as the council members droned on.
"Legolas what do you think?" his father questioned him from across the oblong table.
"Well, uh, I think..." Legolas scrambled for something to say. Thranduil closed his eyes exasperatedly. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he looked at his son. Standing up, he took Legolas by the arm, leading him out of the council room.
"Legolas, you must begin taking your role as prince of Mirkwood seriously," Thranduil said, scrutinizing Legolas sternly.
"But father," Legolas began. His father intercepted.
"No buts Legolas. I just want you to be happy," Thranduil said. Legolas kept his eyes on the floor.
"Then let me be normal, I do not wish to be a prince or bowed to. I don't want to be different!" Legolas exclaimed, his words coming out harsher than he meant for them to.
Just then, the door opened and the council members filed out.
The last one sneered at Legolas with an upturned nose. Legolas scowled, and stuck his tongue out.
Thranduil raised his eyebrows. He put both his hands on Legolas's shoulders.
"You must take after your mother," he said with a warm, reminiscent smile. Legolas smiled, remembering his beloved Naneth. Thranduil gave one last look at his son before walking away.
Sighing Legolas took off for his room.
When he arrived there, he strode over to his balcony. Grasping the wooden railing, he swung himself over the side, dropping down to the ground. Legolas landed surefooted on the grassy floor.
Staring to his right, he saw a group of males about his age practicing with their archery. They did not wave and invite him to join them, nor did they bow at his feet and grovel. He was grateful for the absence of their bowing, stuttering, and most of all, the 'your highnesses' and 'my lords'. But he did feel like having some company from time to time.
Legolas leapt into the boughs of a nearby tree, hurdling himself from tree to tree. Soon, his surroundings were only blurs of color, passing him by swiftly.
When he came to a complete halt, night had fallen and the stars had revealed themselves. He lounged, perched comfortably atop a branch. The stars twinkled overhead, the darkened sky painted an onyx black. The moonlight cast ghostly shadows on the forest floor.
Deciding he'd rather walk than climb the trees, Legolas scrambled to the ground. He figured his father would be wondering of his whereabouts, but he did not turn around. Instead, he walked on along the trodden dirt path.
It was so silent that you could hear the quiet whistling of the wind and the faint rustle of the leaves. Trees swaying, their emerald green leaves danced to the quiet breeze that flew by.
Suddenly, Legolas could see an odd form sitting on the horizon. It resembled a house, albeit a small one. Curiosity awoken, Legolas drew towards it, treading on silent feet.
*
Cerithrandil lit the stub of a wax candle near his bedside. Taking a worn out leather bound book he opened the crinkled pages. Before long, he was enfolded in the adventurous tale. His ears pricked. There was a creak and then a muffled bang.
Cerithrandil whipped his knife out from under his pillow and rose to his feet. Sweeping out the door, he rushed to the front door.
*
As Legolas got closer, he realized that it was indeed a cabin. Descending up the steps, he cringed when there was a loud creak. Just then, he stubbed his toe on a crooked rusty nail that was holding the stairs together. He half yelled, half whispered an oath to himself, cursing again when he realized that he had practically shouted.
All of a sudden, the door to the cabin creaked open and a shadowed figure revealed itself. He had the frame of an elf and Legolas could see that he was wielding a lethal looking blade. He dared not breath, or utter a single word.
The person's head jerked abruptly in his direction.
Legolas didn't hesitate to pull his own knife out from his boot. Just as he did, the person lunged, tackling him to the ground. The two wrestled for a minute. Legolas easily pinned his opponent to the ground. The man kicked at Legolas and the two rolled over, landing in a patch of moonlight.
Recovering from the swift kick, Legolas looked at the face of his attacker. There were two audible and simultaneous gasps of astonishment. It took a long while for Legolas's brain to register.
Blond hair, azure eyes, same nose, same high cheekbones, and the same lips, it seemed that Legolas was staring into a mirror image of himself.
*
Cerithrandil gasped as he stared into the face of his attacker. Blond hair, azure eyes, same high cheekbones, and the same lips, it seemed that he was staring into a mirror image of himself.
Good? Bad? Please give me your feedback. I want to see if I should continue this story. And I know it's not very funny now but it will get funnier, not crazy, insane clown funny, but funny. Sorry I didn't update for a long time, but I was kind of busy.
For those of you who've read my other story, Me And My Best Friend's Wedding, Taraweil has a small part in waking a certain reluctant golden- haired elven teen.
REVIEW!!!!!