Lady Rogue
December 26th,2002, 05:46 AM
The best way to describe this story is a suprise from your dog in your slipper. :( Ugh. But when ya gotta write, ya gotta write! This is slightly modern, but oh well! And Rove is a really, really bizzare name, but I couldn't find anyother name that fit my charactor best. Besides, I didn't want to name her Aseilithagilothiel. No, no. Rove is MUCH better. And the title is long. It's suppose to be. I guess.
Misfortunate Happenings With Chamber Pots
And Other Objects
Bright rays of sunlight stretched across the white blankets and met the freckled nose poking out from underneath the bed sheets. A mumble arose from the pillows, sounding the disfavor of being prodded awake at dawn by the nervous servant girl.
“La- Lady Rove?” The girl stuttered, twiddling her brown hair anxiously with her thumb. She knew what the Steward’s child was like in the morning. Irate and ill-tempered.
“My Lady, th- the Lord Faramir is wanting your- er presence in his study.” The servant twittered, rocking back and fourth on her toes. A pillow shot out from under the covers and whapped the servant across her face. A squeak emitted from the girl’s throat as another two pillows followed the first. Teetering over, she fell with a thump and sent something smashing to the floor.
Suddenly, the disgruntled teenager sat up, red hair tangled in a frizzy mane that stuck out in all directions.
“What does he want this time?”
“Well, I-I don’t rightly know... He mentioned wanting a word with you. Several, in fact.”
Groaning, Rove fumbled with the pillow case stuck to her cheek and slid from her bed. When her feet met the floor, she came to a wet and disturbing discovery.
“Miriel, you knocked over the chamber pot- again! ”
+++
Faramir sighed and buried his head in his hands. He was thinking about his daughter. And, as quite common while thinking about his daughter, he was frustrated. Very frustrated.
“I am sooo frustrated!” Faramir howled, earning an eyeroll from his wife.
“Really, my love! Calm down before you have a heart attack!” Eowyn commanded, placing a slender hand on his shoulder.
“How can I possibly calm down? My daughter is a man! And she’ll never find a husband as- as- a man!” Faramir yelled, his face resembling an over ripe tomato.
“Is this really about Rove, or is it something else?” Eowyn said gently, sitting herself down beside her husband. “You seem troubled of late.”
Faramir mumbled something inaudible and turned, if possible, even redder then before. Eowyn cocked an eyebrow and gave the son of Denethor a piercing look.
“Pardon?”
A sudden clamour arose from the hall and the two turned their heads towards the doorway.
“What on Middle-Earth was that?”
+++
Rove managed to grumble and groan her way down the corridor to her father’s study. After a torturous duel with the hairbrush, a toilsome encounter with a pair of shoes, and an exhuasting battle with her gown, Rove had finally begun the march down from her chambers to meet her inevitable doom.
Stopping abruptly as her father’s voice errupted through the hallway, Rove ducked down by a glass statue of the wizard, Gandalf.
“-She’ll never find a husband as- as- a man!”
With these words, her book on The Five Armies slipped out of her hands and fell with a bang onto the floor. Silently sucking in a breath of air, Rove stole a look through the door frame. The Steward and his wife continued conversing, completly unaware their daughter was about to cause more mishap involving a certian wizard.
Casually leaning to the side, Rove attempted to grasp her book only to find the sting of hair being pulled from her scalp. Her hair was caught in the statue’s teeth!
Rove tried to unwind her hair from Gandalf’s pearly whites, but only suceeded in further ensnaring herself. When that didn’t work, Rove began frantically yanking at her red strands, which had managed to become tied in knots. With a final tug, Rove toppled backwards and brought the statue crashing to the floor.
The glass Gandalf shattered, sending a million glittering pieces of glass flying everywhich way. She cursed silently as the voices emanating from the study faltered.
“-What on Middle-Earth?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Rove carefully examined her situation. She was lying on the floor beside a broken Gandalf, with his jaws still attatched to her hair and dangling from her head.
Nothing out of the ordinary, really.
Rove summed up the courage to crack open an eyelid and found her parents looming over her, arms crossed.
She gulped.
“Mother, Father- I can explain everything!”
So what did you think? Should I continue?
Misfortunate Happenings With Chamber Pots
And Other Objects
Bright rays of sunlight stretched across the white blankets and met the freckled nose poking out from underneath the bed sheets. A mumble arose from the pillows, sounding the disfavor of being prodded awake at dawn by the nervous servant girl.
“La- Lady Rove?” The girl stuttered, twiddling her brown hair anxiously with her thumb. She knew what the Steward’s child was like in the morning. Irate and ill-tempered.
“My Lady, th- the Lord Faramir is wanting your- er presence in his study.” The servant twittered, rocking back and fourth on her toes. A pillow shot out from under the covers and whapped the servant across her face. A squeak emitted from the girl’s throat as another two pillows followed the first. Teetering over, she fell with a thump and sent something smashing to the floor.
Suddenly, the disgruntled teenager sat up, red hair tangled in a frizzy mane that stuck out in all directions.
“What does he want this time?”
“Well, I-I don’t rightly know... He mentioned wanting a word with you. Several, in fact.”
Groaning, Rove fumbled with the pillow case stuck to her cheek and slid from her bed. When her feet met the floor, she came to a wet and disturbing discovery.
“Miriel, you knocked over the chamber pot- again! ”
+++
Faramir sighed and buried his head in his hands. He was thinking about his daughter. And, as quite common while thinking about his daughter, he was frustrated. Very frustrated.
“I am sooo frustrated!” Faramir howled, earning an eyeroll from his wife.
“Really, my love! Calm down before you have a heart attack!” Eowyn commanded, placing a slender hand on his shoulder.
“How can I possibly calm down? My daughter is a man! And she’ll never find a husband as- as- a man!” Faramir yelled, his face resembling an over ripe tomato.
“Is this really about Rove, or is it something else?” Eowyn said gently, sitting herself down beside her husband. “You seem troubled of late.”
Faramir mumbled something inaudible and turned, if possible, even redder then before. Eowyn cocked an eyebrow and gave the son of Denethor a piercing look.
“Pardon?”
A sudden clamour arose from the hall and the two turned their heads towards the doorway.
“What on Middle-Earth was that?”
+++
Rove managed to grumble and groan her way down the corridor to her father’s study. After a torturous duel with the hairbrush, a toilsome encounter with a pair of shoes, and an exhuasting battle with her gown, Rove had finally begun the march down from her chambers to meet her inevitable doom.
Stopping abruptly as her father’s voice errupted through the hallway, Rove ducked down by a glass statue of the wizard, Gandalf.
“-She’ll never find a husband as- as- a man!”
With these words, her book on The Five Armies slipped out of her hands and fell with a bang onto the floor. Silently sucking in a breath of air, Rove stole a look through the door frame. The Steward and his wife continued conversing, completly unaware their daughter was about to cause more mishap involving a certian wizard.
Casually leaning to the side, Rove attempted to grasp her book only to find the sting of hair being pulled from her scalp. Her hair was caught in the statue’s teeth!
Rove tried to unwind her hair from Gandalf’s pearly whites, but only suceeded in further ensnaring herself. When that didn’t work, Rove began frantically yanking at her red strands, which had managed to become tied in knots. With a final tug, Rove toppled backwards and brought the statue crashing to the floor.
The glass Gandalf shattered, sending a million glittering pieces of glass flying everywhich way. She cursed silently as the voices emanating from the study faltered.
“-What on Middle-Earth?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Rove carefully examined her situation. She was lying on the floor beside a broken Gandalf, with his jaws still attatched to her hair and dangling from her head.
Nothing out of the ordinary, really.
Rove summed up the courage to crack open an eyelid and found her parents looming over her, arms crossed.
She gulped.
“Mother, Father- I can explain everything!”
So what did you think? Should I continue?