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The Forgotten Elf - 3~~~~The Forgotten Elf~~~~
'Just where do you think you're off to?' Gimli asks me.
'Not this time. This time you must stay Gimli.' I reply. If I make them stay with the men of Rohan they are less likely to be killed and I don't have to worry about them and Seloriel. Gimli simply grumbles as a reply.
'Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of Dwarves?' Legolas asks coming up on the otherside of me with his horse packed.
'You might as well accept it. We're going with you, laddie' Gimli states. I sigh. Perfect, now I have three friends who are coming with me to almost certain death. Not what I wanted.
'Are you ready to go Aragorn?' Gimli asks.
'Almost, I just have to wait for one thing' I reply, referring to Seloriel.
'And what might that be, Aragorn?' I hear a soft voice ask from behind me, making Gimli and I jump.
'What have I told you about doing that? Are you trying to scare me to death?' I ask her.
'I can't help it if men and dwarves are scared so eas
The Forgotten Elf - 2~~~~The Forgotten Elf~~~~
~~~~A Mysterious Arrival~~~~
The doom of men is near. All that they took for granted will be lost. And so much life will be spent. All of this because of the naivety of men. They did not think of how important alliances with other kingdoms and other beings could be. They did not look towards the future, only towards their own personal joy at the time.
All of this is changing as we stand with the men and women of Rohan preparing for battle. The people of Gondor will have aid. The men of Rohan will make sure of it.
Two mysterious figures walk towards the King's tent. They are both wearing black cloaks with hoods so I can not tell of their appearances. One has the figure of a man, the other a female. I believe them to be elves, simply by their clothing. Their clothes seem to be very expensive silk, worn only be elvish royalty. It must be Lord Elrond and presumably his daughter, Arwen. But the female is not of the same stature as Arwen, she is slightly short
The Forgotten Elf - 1~~~~The Forgotten Elf~~~~
~~~~The First Meeting~~~~
'Mother, can I go out into the woods again? I won't go far!' a young elven boy pleaded.
'But of course, Legolas. But do remember, no hunting, and take the knife your father left you encase you get into any trouble' his mother, Larana, replied. Her beautiful blonde hair swaying as she turned to look at her eight year old child, pride evident in her eyes.
Legolas grinned joyfully at his mother's answer and picked up the small sword that was only just too large to be called a dagger and ran out the door.
He played in the woods for hours on end. Climbing trees and tracking animals. He even tried to practice his sword work. He had always been better with a bow and arrow than with a sword, but he found that after his father had passed away, leaving him both archery weapons and swords, it would be worthwhile to try and learn both crafts.
'You know, it would probably work better if you were to have a partner!' a voice called down from a
Time Travel - Prologue~~~~Prologue~~~~
The war had ended and the wizarding world was slowly getting back on track every student at Hogwarts, went and retoke their last year due to disturbance, aka. the war.
Harry and Ginny got back together and, after a lot of publicity, finally got to have a private life away from Rita Skeeter. Ron found that his heart was in a place he never thought possible, stuck to Luna Lovegood, whom he started dating shortly after the war was finished. Hermione, still single, worked part time with the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, to get all prohibitory werewolf regulations banded, which lead to Remus Lupin teaching Defense against the Dark Arts again. Severus Snape, who, after being cleared of all charges, retook the position of Potions Master.
Harry and Ginny spent more time with each other, and therefore less time with their friends, as did Ron and Luna which meant that everybody was in a relationship except Hermione, even though she'd never admit it to anyone, she didn't like
Usher Wood'He's an angel!' Molly squeled in delight as she took in the appearence of her young grandson for the first time. At the age of three weeks, Usher had straight dark red hair and deep blue eyes, which he got from his father. He was sitting in his highchair playing with his toy unicorn that his 'Aunt' Hermione had enchanted to fly around him and talk before he was born.
'Oh, Ginny I'm so proud! What did you name him?' she asked Ginny and her husband.
'Usher Damian Wood' Oliver replied proudly.
'Usher?' Ron asked snorting, 'Why would you name the kid 'Usher' for merlin's sake'.
'Well we did it for Severus and Hermione' Ginny replied.
'What? They wanted you to name him that?' he asked.
'Well, as they were our best friends we wanted to remember them.' Ginny replied, trying to keep the tears back at the thought of Severus and Hermione guarding her and Oliver's way out of the few death eaters that were left.
'What are you talking about? What do you mean you 'wanted to remember them'? Is somet
Bad dreams can be good for youSitting up suddenly, Hermione started to shake with fear. It was just a dream, she repeated to herself, it was just a dream, but it had seemed so real. Next to her Harry sat up, waking up after her sudden departure from his arms.
'Mione, what's the matter?' he asked concerned for his girlfriends actions.
'I... I... Harry? Oh thank god your alright. You're alive' she said noticeably relaxing and stopping her shaking, whilst tears started to run down her pale cheeks.
'Of course I'm alright Mione, it was just a dream, come here' he said with his arms open for her, which she welcomed readily. 'Tell me what happened'
'I saw the final battle again, but this time it was different, when you and Riddle were at the end of the fight, you killed him, as you did, but Bellatrix killed you. I was so scared, you were dead, I could never hold you again, never tell you how much I love you' she replied holding onto him, as if scared that if she let go he would disappear.
'Mione, I'm alive, Lestrange is i
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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