4/ The Morning Star

During the war of the ring, the woodland realm lives troubled times. Between war and fear appears a child that might change the course of what would seem like a predictable tale.

-

The gathered elves all hushed their conversation as Elrond re-entered the room, carrying a swaddled bundle. Then the room filled with questions, harshly whispered.

"Is it true?"

"Does she have the mark?"

"Is she the chosen one?"

"What am I doing here?" asked Legolas. "I don't usually live in the same city as Elrond. I'm confused as to which forest realm this is."

"I'm reasonably certain I shouldn't be here, either," said Aegnor.

"Quit complaining," said a Narnian centaur.

"Silence!" Elrond called. "This child bears the foretold mark! She is the chosen one! The one to end the conflict!"

In a flash of light, the child transformed into a fully grown (and clothed) woman. "It is I," she spoke.

"And how will you stop this war?" demanded a Smurf.

"Simple. There can be no war where there is no setting for one." The Chosen One lowered herself to hands and knees.

She dropped her face the the grass.

And began to eat the planet.

The crowd cried out louder and louder in alarm. Legolas grabbed Elrond's arm. "Lord Elrond! What can we do to stop this?"

"We cannot stop this." Elrond slowly turned to the younger elf. He was now wearing sunglasses. "It is inevitable."

-

12/ Zoo Tales

Posibly the beginning of a new cycle set in the City Zoo. No sex except for the animals and not much swearing. Though watch where you stand...

-

All around him, there were tortoises humping, and chickens humping, and ducks humping, and goats humping (though this was really just a dominance display between females). The prairie dogs were probably humping, though they had the decency to do so underground.

"Why, this isn't Discworld," said doctorlit. "This is just work."

9/ Worth It (if you stick around)

It's possible to be such a critic that you lose sight of what could possibly keep you. It's a good thing his heart is made of brave scarlet, or he would never go searching for clarity. A story in which life just happens.

There was a painting at Hogwarts that never moved, no matter how long the students might stare at it. There didn't appear to be anything remarkable about it aside from how it hung on the wall. Though it was a depiction of a heavily forested landscape, it had been placed on the wall as if it were a portrait. Altered as it was, the trees took on the appearance of scraggly green bristles on a massive brush, the rolling knolls became green pustules, and the clouded sky became a sloppy imitation of a waterfall. It was appalling.

It was no wonder that few wasted the time to observe it; however, it retained a certain amount of intrigue for the students with more artistic leanings. Dean Thomas was no exception.

"Why would there be a Muggle painting at Hogwarts?" he asked, pausing in front of the painting, as well as nearly causing Seamus to crash into him in the process.

"Probably for the same reason you're still lolling around looking at it," Seamus snipped, irritated by his near miss. "It's weird. Weird things tend to stick around Hogwarts."

"Fair enough, I guess." Dean continued to watch the painting, waiting for any sign that it might spring to life. He did not look as if he planned to move any time soon, much to Seamus's dismay.

"I reckon that Potions will start in a few minutes," Seamus prodded.

"Yes, I think so," Dean answered absently.

"Don't you think we should, I don't know, actually go? I don't much like the idea of losing twenty house points."

That got Dean's attention. He snorted, turning away from the painting at last. "You'd lose them the first time you blew up your draught anyway," he said.

"Oh yeah? I bet you a Galleon that I don't blow up a single thing today."

Laughing, Dean started walking to class once more. "I'll take that bet. I hope you're not saving up for Hogsmeade, Finnigan. You won't have two knuts to rub together by the trip if you keep throwing your money away like this."

"Very funny. I'll have you know that I have great odds today. Hermione told me that we aren't working with anything that reacts violently in Potions this week, modifying Cheering Charms isn't going to make anyone spontaneously combust, and I can't exactly set a transfigured mirror on fire, now can I?" Seamus grinned. "Just watch, I'll be flush by the end of the day."

Seamus proceeded to set a record for himself in producing four explosions in one day, only one of which was magical in nature.

[Time skip of doom and subsequent abrupt transitions because this is already longer than intended and I regret everything]

Later, Dean returned to the motionless painting. Down the hallway he could hear the clamour of students returning to their common rooms from the Great Hall. Sometimes he stayed as late as he could when it was a mealtime, but he left as quickly as possible just as often. There weren't many times when the hallways were free of students, save for the dead of night, and breaking curfew had long since lost its air of rebellion. It just felt nice to be alone sometimes.

Unaccompanied as he was, Dean had all the time he needed to observe the painting. He spent most of it tilting his head to the side. The first thing he had concluded was that it was beautiful from the correct perspective, but the way it was placed would prompt tears from its creator. He had entertained the notion of it being a sort of modern art, but had ascertained that it was much too old.

The second thing he ascertained was that it was hiding a door.

Dean had spent years living with a mother who was extremely fond of daytime telly, so he felt he was something of an aficionado regarding hidden passages and forbidden affairs. Knowing that the two were almost always intertwined, Dean found himself unwilling to open the painting door. He had no desire to see people snogging behind the painting, especially considering he was just as guilty of liaisons behind tapestries and in passages of all sorts as any unfortunate couple he might spy.

Considering these factors, he very slowly and deliberately knocked on the wall to the left of the landscape. When no answer was forthcoming, and there was a definite absence of students rushing out of the painting, he decided to take a chance. He took one deep breath and opened the door.

"Well, that's anticlimactic."

Before him lay a round, nearly bare room. The only thing adorning its walls was a single scarlet cape, embroidered with a heart, and a piece of parchment pinned to it. Upon further examination, the paper read, "Thif is to fay that Gregory shalle ne'er lay eye on his cloak if he e'er again mocks the artes. - Professor Claerty Hathorne"

[Surprise. I wrote this monstrosity to lead up to passive aggressive 16th century professor shenanigans.]

1/ Struck by an Arrow

WARNING: Legomance, but no tenth-walker and all that jazz... Story of a girl who's struck by lightning and transferred to Mirkwood, stumbling upon some of the most fearsome elves in all of Middle Earth. How will she explain what happened to the Elvenking? Or to herself? Sorry, the summary isn't great, but PLEASE give my story a try! Thank you! :)


"Your king--he is a king?--well, he's probably still wrapped in vines. You shouldn't startle people, you know. Especially mages." Trisana Chandler plunked her fists on her hips and glared up at the tall man (one of many) in front of her. "And speaking of mages--I'm a mage. So you'd better put me back where I came from."

No one moved. In fact, everyone stared.

"Do I have something on my face?"

This got them to exchange glances, at least, but she might as well have been talking to...to...to snakes. Only these people wouldn't even hiss at her.

"Listen," Tris said, doing her best to keep the desperation out of her voice, "if you don't send me back, I'll get angry. Really angry. You won't like what happens when I'm angry."

The leader blinked at her. "Do you mean to threaten us?" He raised his bow until the nocked arrow pointed at her heart.

Tris' voice raised in annoyance. "I don't mean to threaten you. I don't need to. I just want you to know what you're up against." The arrow stayed where it was; the man's eyes narrowed. At least he'd spoken? "Stop that," Tris added, jabbing a finger at the weapon. "Just put me back. Now. Before I really get angry."

Today had been a bad day. The lightning had definitely been fun--strong and wild and rippling hot, tasting faintly of rain--but the richly dressed man stumbling out of nowhere and proclaiming loudly that there were no tenth-walkers or jazz had been a complete surprise. He hadn't gotten himself wrapped in vines until he managed to startle Briar into ruining an entire pot of burn salve. The plant mage had wrapped him in progressively more vines in a growing attempt to keep him silent and still.

(This stand-off continued for rather a while, really. No one quite knew how to set things right. No one quite knew how to bring up Tris' hair, either, which stood straight up where it wasn't braided, and crawled with seed lightning besides.)

*

Lightning suggested Tris to me. Very strongly, in fact. I'm not sure this really came out the way I wanted it to, but it's also my first time writing Tris, so that probably affected it. Hope you enjoyed nonetheless...and sorry for the general lack of Legomance, I couldn't make it fit with the length. Feel free to picture it somehow working out eventually, if you'd like.

-----

5/ Side by side with his dwarf

Legolas and Gimli are great friends but Aragorn knows that they are more than that he just needs to make them realise it.


"I do not understand this," Legolas said once they had attained privacy. "Has he taken leave of his wits? What could cause him to say such things?"

"Perhaps 'tis the stress of ruling," suggested Gimli. "It weighs on him, we have seen this--"

"But to suggest that--!" Legolas' hands waved about in unusual frustration. "It is not only absurd but physically impossible!"

"Peace, Legolas." The Dwarf waited until his friend was more collected before he spoke again. "Perhaps he means it as a joke."

"A joke."

"Aye." Gimli warmed to this theme, gesticulating broadly. "Grown weary with the formality of royal audiences, he has turned his mind to play. And what better way to relax than to play at convincing his friends--"

"I see no humor in this," Legolas protested, but Gimli shook his head.

"Perhaps you need not, friend Legolas. After all, it is his own amusement that Aragorn seeks."

"If this is indeed a joke," Legolas put in.

Gimli nodded reluctantly. "If it is indeed a joke, and not a failing in his sanity."

For some time there was silence. At length, Legolas spoke.

"We should alert the Queen, if nothing else."

Gimli's eyebrows shot upwards. "And how do you propose to explain this to her, Master Elf?"

"We tell her what he said," Legolas replied firmly. "We tell her, and we explain that we suspect a break in his sanity. Should it indeed be a joke, he will laugh all the harder; and should it be the stress of ruling, Arwen will see it and take measures to correct it. This shall be our course of action--if you agree."

Gimli thought it over, and then nodded. "It seems a sensible idea. Very well--I am agreed. When shall we approach her?"

"At once." Legolas straightened his already-straight clothing, and turned toward the door. "There is no time to lose."

Gimli nodded his agreement once more, and they left the room side by side.

What Arwen Undómiel would say to their claims of Aragorn's attempts to convince them that a Dwarf and an Elf were in fact blood brothers, neither preferred to imagine. Their only hope was that she would believe them.

*

Hey, it doesn't spell out what this 'more than that' is. I'm perfectly justified in claiming that Aragorn's trying to convince them that they're directly related biologically.

Your choice whether he's insane, playing a joke, or something else entirely. It's all up in the air.

-----
As a final note--please excuse or point out any OOCness. Tris was kind of hard to write, and I tried to base Gimli and Legolas mainly on the books rather than the movies.

Man, it has been awhile. Let's see what I've got.

11. "Twisted In Every Way"

12-year-old Victoria and her twin brother James are orphaned because of a freak "accident". But what will "dear little Victoria" do to get into the guild that wants her brother as a member? Be warned, it is rather disturbing at the beginning. Please Review!

Victoria made the final adjustment, and her foot popped into place behind her head. She was twisted into a perfect human pretzel.

"There! See?" she said, looking up at the guild members with a strained grin. "This proves I have what it takes, doesn't it? Who could resist dear, deformed little Victoria?"

"Bugrit," said one of them. "Bugrit. I told 'em."

"I believe what Ron is trying to say," said the Duck Man, "is that while your brother is a classic Mumbler, the Beggars' Guild really has no place for a young lady of your... er... talents. Have you tried the Fools?"

- - -

Yes, I know they aren't members anymore, but it was funnier this way. At least in my head.

~Neshomeh

8/ Elemental Girls at Hogwarts

When 4 new students going by the names of; Summer Flame, Rosely Forest, Sky Thundercloud and Icey Tsunami enter Hogwarts as 2nd years. They have to defeat old Villains and deal with Love. Will their secret be found out and who will fall for who?

"So, what's the agenda?" Summer Flame asks over breakfast in the Great Hall.

"Love is being a whiny little child again, so we're going to have to deal with her," replies Rosely Forest, pressing a kiss to Sky Thundercloud's head as the other girl takes her place next to her at the Hufflepuff table. The four girls had decided to sit there together even though they were all sorted into different Houses based on their elemental-sounding names (someone's gotta be laughing about it, somewhere); after all, not many people paid too much attention to the Hufflepuff table.

"Okay, and Villains?" asks Summer.

"Still demanding their fee," reports Icey Tsunami as she heaps eggs onto her plate.

Sky shudders. "What a creep."

"What choice do we have? They've got information on us. If the Ministry finds out --" Rosely begins, but Sky squeezes her hand and shakes her head.

"Don't. We're going to find some way to make sure old Villains doesn't get that information to the Ministry."

Rosely briefly smiles at her girlfriend before turning back to the others. "Who's going to deal with Love then?"

"I'll do it," grumbles Summer.

3/ The Daughter of Elrond

The Ring has been stolen and a daughter of Elrond is missing. Rated T for possible language.

"Celebrían?"

"Yes, my heart?"

"Would you care to help me solve a riddle?"

Celebrían laid aside her embroidery, folded her hands on her lap, and looked up at her husband. "Of a surety," she said. "Come, sit."

Elrond settled himself on the bench beside her, draping one arm across her shoulders. He leant back and gazed up at the ceiling, and Celebrían drew herself in against him.

"A certain... article of mine has gone missing," he said. "A thing of no little value, though few would mark it such."

Celebrían narrowed her eyes. "I presume, Lord of Imladris, that you do not refer to the keys to our wine cellar."

Elrond chuckled. "No, my love, they are safe with Erestor - though how 'safe' that truly is when Galion is visiting from Eryn Galen, I dare not contemplate. No, it is... rather a smaller thing than that." He swallowed, and added hesitantly, "Coloured blue."

Celebrían pulled away and turned to stare at him. "You have lost Vilya?" she exclaimed.

"Not lost," Elrond reassured her, squeezing her shoulder, "merely misplaced. I had removed it to change Lindir's dressings - and remind him yet again that he is not fit to return to the hunt, nor should he be so eager after being so wounded last time - and when I turned away..." He shrugged, letting the remainder go unsaid.

"We must organise the household," Celebrían declared, getting to her feet. "Each must be questioned in turn, and if none will reveal the Ring of Air's location, we shall search their-"

"You are most certainly your mother's daughter," Elrond interrupted, smiling, "but there is no need. My assistant in my labours was a certain dark-haired beauty of Tinúviel's line, but for reasons entirely unknown, she departed ere my task was complete."

Celebrían raised a delicate eyebrow, and her tone lightened to match his. "Did she, indeed? That is a mystery. Do you think she might be able to hear us now?"

Elrond tilted his head, listening, and caught a whisper of breath, the faintest of giggles. "Do you know," he said, "I rather suspect she can."

---

What? They never said which Ring. As for the language - well, it was possible, but fortunately Celebrían restrained herself.

hS