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cecilspeaks · 5 years

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139 - The Birthday of Lee Marvin (I)

To err is human. To forgive is also human. The possibilities of human action are a multitude. Welcome to Night Vale.

Today is a very special day, listeners. Yes, for once your calendars are not deceiving you. Today is the 30th birthday of longtime Night Vale resident and Hollywood legend, Lee Marvin. Mr. Marvin is on break from the filming of “The Rise of the Hobbits, Part 4,” the anticipated next chapter of Peter Jackson’s 8-part film series, based on the copyright page of “The Hobbit”.

The town has declared the birthday a civic holiday, and are holding a fair in honor of Mr. Marvin in Grove Park. The man himself is said to speak later today, but head over now to play fun carnival games and eat local snacks. John Peters – you know, the farmer – will be there selling boiled imaginary corn dipped in theoretical butter. A tasty and extremely healthy snack, containing practically no calories at all. More on these birthday celebrations, as there continues to be a birthday to celebrate. Ah, I’m just so excited! I’m sorry, I really get into birthdays, always have. I just, I wish I could remember when mine is.

But first, some important facts about the moon from local moon scientist, or moon-ologist, Ross Sutherland. The moon is a weak egg, set to crack at a glance. The moon is a maniacal scent sniffed out by tidal waters. The moon is a barbarous necklace upon the neck of our barbarous world. The moon is a (ritzy) cloak, too gaudy for daywear. The moon is an accidental height, one that may some day be catastrophically adjusted. Thank you, Ross, for those fascinating facts.

The birthday celebration is in full swing. This is a town that loves our local legends, and no one is more local or legendary than movie star Lee Marvin. And not only a movie star, he has also been doing work in the theatre. Just this year, he staged a one-man version of “Angels in America” at the community theater, playing every single character over seven and a half hours, except the angels. Angels have a strong union and it turns out that no one is allowed to play an angel, unless they are themself an angel. The angels who participated in the production also found the play offensive, saying that it stereotyped angels as flying beings shouting prophecies and wrestling with divinely chosen humans. “Yes,” said an angel who once was the town’s richest man. “I have shouted a prophecy or two in my life, and yes, I wrestled a human over a divine message. But that’s a tiny part of my lived experience, and I want this work to better represent my whole being.” As such, the play was drastically rewritten and was mostly about angels attending school board meetings, throwing dinner parties, and hanging out at the parking lot of the Ralphs. I was deeply moved.

Anyway, come on down to Grove Park. You don’t wanna miss this birthday party. The angels brought sheet cake.

And now a public service announcement. Trish Hidge and Simone Rigideau are seeking volunteers for their new community service organization that puts cute paper hats on dogs. “Sure,” said Trish Hidge from within her darkened house, speaking through a narrow gap she had pulled in her blinds. “Dogs are cute, but have you ever seen a dog in a paper pirate? Or, or, or a chef’s hat? Wha-wha-what about a paper the shaped like another dog, perched on top of the first dog’s head. It is these kinds of experiences we wish to bring to the world with our new organization. What was that?!” she finished, suddenly snapping the blinds shut and disappearing. There was a series of loud thuds and a slow dragging sound from inside, and then the whites of her eyes against the blinds again as she hissed: “Did you see that? What did you see? You saw it, didn’t you?” Until your friendly reporter decided it would be best to back away from your house and then, having reached the sidewalk, turn and run, his breath rattling in and out of his chest. Simone Rigideau only commented that she is happy to devote her time to such a good cause. And that also, the world ended a long time ago. “This isn’t the world,” she said. “I don’t know what this is, but I know dogs are in it and so that’s what I’ll focus on.” Anyone wishing to sing up with the organization should just tell the next dog you see, and they’ll take care of the rest.

And now, traffic. A scattering of roads in the desert, far from human habitation. These roads are only roads in the most theoretical of senses. They are merely packed down dirt, cleared of plants, and no vehicle has passed over them in years. Is a road that is never used still a road? Or is it something else? A marking, a monument to movement that never came to be? One of these not-roads meanders its way over a rise and back down through chapallar.

From high up in a plane or sitting in the clean white interior of a flying saucer, it would appear as though someone had taken a pen and let it trail loosely over the earth. Eventually, it meets up with another scattering of dirt roads. These have a few farms and businesses along them, not many but these roads are sometimes used. Maybe the people here are aware that one of their roads drifts off far into the desert, ending at an abandoned cross-hatching of lanes. But more likely, they only know that one of their roads goes nowhere, and they ignore that road. From this barely populated area, one of the dirt roads heads out, becomes paved, goes its two-laned way into a small town with a high school and a Walmart. This small town has a road that ends at the highway.

The highway merges eventually onto the interstate, an 8-lane river of cars pouring into and out of the city, a vast pool of life. Some of that life is only there for the day. Others will live and die never having left their neighborhoods. And you could, if you wanted, get in your car in the heart of this metropolis and take the interstate to the highway, to the two-lane road, through the small town, to the sparsely populated dirt roads, and follow that one meandering road over the rise and come to an intersection of markings that are only roads in the most theoretical of ways. And you could get out of your car and walk along these roads, the first human to touch them since their creation, and perhaps even then, but no one ever has, and no one ever will. This has been traffic.

The party is still rolling along down in Grove Park. Martin McCaffrey, local representative of the TSA, has set up an art sale with some of his works, all of which contain strange dark hunched figures. It seems wildly inappropriate that he has chosen to set up a private art sale at a public birthday party for someone else, but you go Martin, I guess.

Oh, oh! The crowd is buzzing! Lee Marvin has arrived. Everyone stop buzzing, I’m trying to hear what Lee is saying! He must be so happy about celebration. Uh he’s approaching the mic, it appears he has prepared a speech to thank us for this party. Ah, that’s wonderful. We will return with that speech in just a moment, but first, we absolutely must Check in on the weather.

[“Impasse” by Juliana Finch, https://music.julianafinch.com]

Lee Marvin: Hello. Thank you for coming to my birthday party. [chuckles] It has been my 30th birthday for a long time. Hundreds of years, maybe thousands of years. Continuously my 30th birthday. [chuckles] I never grow a day older. I don’t know why this of all the days that are my birthday is the one on which you chose to throw a party, but it’s sure nice of you to think of me. That cake looks fine.

How is a person supposed to track time outside of the context of the world? If it was my 30th birthday when George Washington declared himself god-king of America, and it was my 30th birthday when Stanley Kubrick staged the moon landing. And my 30th birthday today, then how old am I? How much time has passed? It is impossible for me to have a sense of time, I’m not on a ship sailing to some great destination, I am floating on my back in the sea of time staring up at cruel and alien stars. The currents take me. I will never wash up on any golden shore. Perhaps I will someday sink. Without the context of history, my memories are flat, each holding equal weight. Each with the possibility of having taken place the same amount of time ago.

I remember standing on this land, when no one else was here. Even the land wasn’t quite here yet. It was still part of a larger land mass that would shiver out all over the earth, holding in the contour of its coast lines the memory of its schism. The air was heavy and warm and breathing felt like drinking. It was my 30th birthday that day. I sat under a few branches to protect myself from the rain. This was thick forest then, the sea lapped up against it and all of this, all of that, has dried up. It hardly ever rains.

On my 30th birthday, I stood with the town elders as they declared the formation of this community. I signed on the original charter. Go see for yourself in the civic history museum, in the lobby of city hall, admission is free. And anyone with a secret or top secret clearance with any major government agency is welcome to take a look. There you will see that tattered bit of paper and on it, among the scrawls of men whose names have decayed along with their bones is a signature that remains as clean and clear as the day I wrote it. It says “Lee Marvin”, and in parentheses it says “30”, with several exclamation points.

Perhaps we were wrong to create this town. Even in the moment of signing, we were avoiding each other’s eyes, there was much we didn’t understand about this place that we were naming and giving boundaries to, but we felt in debt to something much larger than us. And the town of Night Vale was one of its demands. Later, on my 30th birthday, I watched missiles streak across the sky and knew we were all doomed. And then we weren’t doomed, and it was still my 30th birthday. I don’t know what happened. I only know what it smelled like. There was a smell like cloves on the wind, and a smell like plastic wrap that has gotten warm in the sun. A-and a smell like an elevator just after it’s been cleaned. I stood outside and I took great whiffs of air, understanding that by all rights I shouldn’t have been able to do that anymore. In that moment, I shouldn’t have existed. But I did. And so I breathed and breathed. Maybe it had smelled like that before outside, maybe it always had and I just never truly noticed until that moment.

I love Night Vale. But I’m afraid of Night Vale. I-I think many of us feel that way, although we don’t speak of it. We announce our love of civic leadership and of our town pride but – sometimes we find that we are standing in front of a shed in our garden, and the door is cracked open a little and in that darkness of the shed there is a depth of terror so great that no one world could contain it. And we stand barefoot in grass made sharp by drought and we gape at the shadows within the shed, without knowing what we are seeing and by the time we realize what we are doing, the sun has long gone down and the stars have infested the sky and we are still standing in front of that garden shed with the door ajar. Or, well, maybe that’s just me. [chuckles] Certainly that has happened to me on, on many of my 30th birthdays, but no more. I seek for my unchanging life to change. I seek context, I seek one moment in which I understand what time it is.

Thank you for coming to my birthday. Well, I don’t believe it’ll be my birthday much longer. Looks like the cake is all gone now.

Cecil: Wwwwwwwwwhatt is there to sayyy about ssomeone on the date of their birth Iiii.. I suppose, uh the same things to say about them on any other day although – too often we don’t. He is… a kind man. Uhhh, a good friend. He helps sometimes, and thinks about helping often. He tries. It doesn’t always work, but he tries, or he doesn’t. But he thinks about trying. He is, in other words, like any of us, and today is his birthday, and so for today we say about him the warm things that we perhaps should be saying about each other all of the time. Why wait for a single day to say a kind word?

Lee Marvin, happy 30th birthday. Here’s to many, many more.

Stay tuned next for this one weird click that your elbow makes if you turn it just so. Did you hear that, that click? What do you think that is? Better search online and read the most frightening answers and sit in your bed for long waking hours of dark, moving your elbow and listening. Click, click, click.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Every example of irony in the song “Ironic” is completely correct, because that song singlehandedly changed the common parlance definition of “irony”.

#welcome to night vale #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 139 #the birthday of lee marvin

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blankdblank · 6 years

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Tassle

Pt 1 because I’m helpless at making simple one page rambles anymore. Emotionally (raw?) and slightly insecure OC. Gets really emotional, especially after they get back to the Mountain. It’s tagged as a xThranduil as well but it’s mainly because they do form a bond, just not sure if it’ll be familial/friends or whatnot. Hope you like it, next part should have all the drama and a bit more pain.

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@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @abiwim, @jotink78, @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, and @ckc243 who requested it.

…

He will be mine, and through him they’ll all kneel. The cackles were clearly heard echoing through the small servant’s tunnels around you while the bearded Dams around the three Sisters visiting from an Eastern Dwarf Kingdom all visiting for the upcoming festivities all stole agreeing glances at one another to aid their superiors on their task. Furrowing your brows you kept on task, delivering your message to the King as the images of their smug expressions flashed in your mind deepening your scowl. Beardless halfblood. Their private nick name for you when you weren’t in the presence of the King. You the half Hobbit Dam sent to live with your Grandparents, the King and Queen’s personal jewelers, who through them you had gained a respectable title of your own.

Out of all the children of Nobles in Erebor you had been chosen to pass on messages between the King and whomever he wished between your lessons on the history of your Grandparent’s kin and their trade in forging. To handle the King’s jewels was the highest right granted, and to be his messenger was a task merely inches behind that, entrusted to you at a single act in your infancy.

Through the echo of shouts and clattering of papers, silver plates and goblets being cast around the meeting room, in the angered Thror’s search for his seal, one that his supposed top trusted advisor had suggested the Men from Dale had stolen it, your shrill squeal sounded drawing the men to freeze mid throw. Turning mid circle Thror spotted the source of the squeal, the small toddler seated beside the advisor tugging on a pouch formerly tucked inside his boot at the end of one of its ties.

Looking down the advisor tried to tug his boot away only snapping the twine gaining another giggle from you as your Grandmother inched closer inside bowing lowly to the King whispering your name followed by, “I am sorry Your Majesty. I set her down for a moment.” A smile grew on their faces at the startlingly small girl before them rose to her feet and tottered over to the now kneeling King who’s guards held back the advisor in his attempt to snatch it away from her. In his extended palm the pouch was settled before you wobbled causing him to curl you in his elbow raising you when he stood again. Through a glare he eyed his stammering advisor pleading with him that he’d both never seen it before and if he had it would be of little importance.

Lowering his gaze the golden raven statue with Thror’s symbol at its base was revealed upon its opening while you giggled resting your head against his shoulder tapping your fingers against the golden zigzags clasped around his beard. A creeping smile spread across his face while the advisor was drug away and your Grandmother had approached upon request to claim you after granting the small purple eyed toddler another smiling glance.

Slipping through a hidden doorway you approached the Throne room glancing at the guards who opened the doors allowing you inside for your same quiet path to the King’s right side. His only warning was the clink of the guard’s chains around his neck shifting through the doors closing once again before the message was set on the arm of his throne before your two backwards steps behind the Crown Prince’s two Sons just barely a decade older than you both stealing sideways glances at the constantly silent young woman that had gained the King’s unfaltering trust.

Quietly you passed through the kingdom ignoring all stares and comments on how different you truly seemed to be at the Hobbit blood your late Father had carried. But tonight as you planned to foil yet another attempt against the King and his heirs you struggled against those same differences assuring you could never be claimed by the very same object of your affection you were aiming to save. Tonight of all nights you had planned to do the one thing going against all the King entrusted you to uphold, you were going to steal from the Royal family.

Durin’s Day Eve, after you went to your bed as your Grandparent’s headed for theirs you changed not into your sleeping clothes but back from your gown for your lessons into your messenger garb, pants, a long shirt and a thick outer vest bearing your pins bearing the King’s seal marking your status. Glancing through the hallway of your apartment you eyed the lights from under your Grandparent’s doorway being doused signaling you to slip into the hallway and out into the Royal Wing. Silently you walked to the large statue of a bear and slipped behind it, feeling out the hidden loop marking where to push to open the small door you eased through and closed again.

Fifty steps later you stopped at another hidden door pressing your ear to it and smirked at the silence on the other side of it. Softly you pushed the door open, closing it behind you to slip out into the darkened hallway in the Crown Prince’s apartment just beside the servant’s pantry holding the cleaning supplies. At the low grumble of Princess Dis in her struggle in succumbing to sleep before her fourth story you eased down the hall to the echoing sighs and pages turning of her Father looking over the final draft of his speech he was to give the following day and slipped into his eldest Son’s room.

…

Barely at 30 you joined the line of Dwarves following the young Prince, catching his gaze back at you on your own at your Grandparent’s fall in aiding the other Nobles’ Children to safety. Once again you sat wordlessly staring off into the distance claiming another place on the watch for yet another night with no more than a single pouch strapped around your waist holding your greatest treasures over a hidden pouch of gold you’d saved up. All around you the Orphans your Grandparents sent into your path curled up for bed under your thick wool layered gown you’d sewn for the Durin’s Day celebration, one that drew tears from all the elders around you at your shredding for blankets for each Child, knowing how long you must have slaved over the occasion. Without the thick gown your pack, once used to house it was now passed onto Princess Dis to carry the few supplies her kin had gathered for her newborn Son Fili.

All through to the Shire your people staggered until that last night when you scouted ahead to meet with your distant kin. With the sunrise you returned with a wagon packed with food and supplies for the discarded Dwarves all bearing deeply humbled expressions at the kindness the Halflings had offered. By noon you had entered the peaceful lands where an elderly couple had offered to house the Children in your care as long as you sent money for them as you made your ways to the abandoned Blue Mountain keep after Thorin with the others.

…

Sixty years had passed and under the bright moonlight those same glistening Durin Blue eyes once again trailing over the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen or know inside and out. Under the nearly always knotted mess of curls bearing beads with marks now near worn illegible by wear those same strikingly purple eyes seemingly able to see the truth to all along with the truest path sat above a once pampered now starved and tightened muscular form worn through nearly by all it bore the weight of. Selflessly you gave, and gave, and gave, never asking in return. All around you bore smiles at their prospering fortunes while the once near blinding smile he’d drawn out by accident just once remained seemingly lost in your toiling days.

A call was sent out and the one creature he never doubted to answer gave a single knock on a large green door. A bit late, far later than the future King’s Cousin Dwalin, who fully expected to find your boot prints to follow to the door, quietly the Dwarves sat around the table with an air of uncertainty between glances at the stool they had set aside for you. That knock sending a wave of relieved exhales through them before the King himself went to answer the door as their host stood peering in the doorway at the woman bowing her head to Thorin who stepped aside welcoming her in.

Her identity only revealed to him at their eyes meeting through her head bowing as he exhaled himself at the sight of his Mother’s distant Cousin, “Jaqiearae Pear-Baggins” crossing the floor with a growing smile to offer you his hand, “Bilbo.” His smile causing a glance between the King and his new Burglar while he ushered you inside towards the last helping of food as he spoke in hushed Hobbitish, “Perhaps you can explain all this to me…”

Ripping another piece of your bread off to eat your eyes landed on Bilbo at his search in your bag for the extra tobacco you’d bartered for along with the extra supplies for Bilbo you knew he would forget his head tilted as he eyed the small fur coated pouch stuffed tightly at his inspecting squeeze. The item in question causing a tensing through the Dwarves around you nearly ready to snatch it from him and return it to you, your lone piece of home, a symbol of the hope they imagined you bore at your chance to take your place in the age old courting ritual. Turning your head at their reaction your weak smile was sent to your relative as he tilted the bag for your viewing, “I like your pouch. Did you make it?”

You shook your head, “My Grandmother did.”

He nodded stealing another glance at it, “Are these sold in Dwarven Markets often?”

A scoff from the Dwarves gained a blank glance from you at Thorin who whacked the knee of one of his Nephews subtly, your eyes landed on Bilbo again with a soft smile stirring a fluttering heartbeat in the King hoping to witness another of your beaming grins, “It’s my Burglar’s pouch.” Bilbo’s brows rose as you giggled weakly after his glance down at it again before meeting your eye again. “The night before Durin’s Day is called Burglar’s Day. It’s a courting ritual. Each Dwarf as they reach adolescence are gifted one of these from their elders, the male’s bare tassles on the outside. After nightfall each female wishing to gain her intended’s courtship publicly is tasked with sneaking into their homes to clam the tassle on their pouch.”

Bilbo wet his lips, “So, you just leave your doors unlocked?”

The Dwarves watched your smile creep wider, “No. Quite the contrary. You have to manage the task without detection or your union is cursed.”

Balin gently claimed the pouch from Bilbo’s hands, “As is the person who peeks inside a Dam’s pouch before requesting permission on Durin’s Day.”

Bilbo met your eye as Balin tucked your pouch back into your bag to ask, “What happens with the tassles?”

“The males who were stolen from gather before the King and are granted three guesses to name the Dam responsible. If they succeed they earn a kiss and their courtship is publicly recorded.”

Bilbo, “And if they don’t?”

“Then the male forges another tassle and waits for another chance the following year to see if the Dam, or another is willing to try again.”

Bofur, “Most don’t, if you’ve guessed wrong that is.”

Kili snorted as Fili nudged his Uncle’s knee saying, “Except for Uncle here.”

Bilbo’s brow rose again as Thorin sighed through Balin’s explanation, “If his tassle goes missing again this year it’d be the century mark since his first was snatched.”

Bilbo glanced at Thorin, “A century? How have you gone a century without guessing who it was?”

Rolling his eyes Thorin shifted to turn slightly towards his left to lean against the large rock behind him to close his eyes after catching your smile dimming through your drawing out the tobacco for Bilbo then went to your terribly worn attempt at a bedroll to try and get some sleep. Balin gently nudged his side saying softly, “He’s asked every Dam that’s traveled for Durin’s Day celebrations each year.”

Bilbo, “And the ones that didn’t travel?”

Balin’s cheeks rose in a glance at you after catching Thorin’s peek at you before closing his eyes again, in a whisper Balin added, “He’s been working through asking all our Lasses. Just a few unbound left to ask still.”

Bilbo, “How does he know, who he’s asked and who he hasn’t?”

Balin chuckled again reaching into his own pouch to draw out a small worn booklet he raised and passed over, “I’ve been keeping track.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed at the Dwarven runes until he mumbled, “Did Jaqi skip the tradition?”

The question drawing Thorin’s eyes open to scan over your now sleeping figure curled against your knotted blanket as a pillow then back to Balin giving him a smile as he chuckled then said, “Present each year since her birth.”

Bilbo wet his lips, “Well, she showed me how to write her name and she’s not mentioned in this.”

Thorin’s brows furrowed nearly growling, “You must be mistaken. Hobbitish runes are far different than ours.”

Bilbo met his gaze passing the book to Kili between them, “I know my Mother’s Cousin’s name. Dwarvish and Hobbitish. Taught me how to write it herself so we could write to one another in her place in the Blue Mountains.”

Leaning forward Thorin peered over his Nephew’s shoulder and under furrowed brows the realization dawned on him his years of dreaming of calling your name before his Grandfather’s seat were just that, dreams claiming to be memories stabbed at him deeply. One century, all those years choosing and choosing wrong while the Dams in his family prayed his faithful One would be patient for always just one year longer hoping he would finally choose right. “I believed I had.”

Bilbo accepted the booklet again to pass back and moved to your side at the curious expression on the King’s face as he peered off into the distance mentally retracing all those years.

…

“This way Prince Thorin.” The blonde Elf Prince froze at the stern “No” that followed.

With parted lips he watched as Thorin’s back came into view at his turn to face you as he whispered in deep rumbles of Khuzdul, “Take my place.”

“I’m-.”

His eyes met yours as he continued ignoring the shocked glances from his Nephews, “We were homeless and wandering, starving and you convinced the Hobbits to grant us safe passage and supplies as well as care for our orphans. I believed it hopeless, and you saw a chance. I trust you. Take my place.” Nodding your head you stepped forward to follow after the Elf Prince eyeing you curiously at his side.

At the top of the highly positioned throne the Elf King turned his head at the lack of Dwarven boots landing on the ground, finding a familiar softly stepping Hobbitess once flitting to the fallen Dwarf King’s side then off again as a child. “Forgive me we were never properly introduced, though I remember you perfectly young Maiden.”

Your head bowed before you stated, “My name is Jaqiearae Pear-Baggins, Your Majesty.”

An easy smile slid onto his face at the voice so similar to what he imagined coming from the formerly silent flitting creature, “I am glad to make your acquaintance finally, Miss Pear-Baggins.” After a glance at his Son he added, “The Prince has granted you his place in our meeting I see.” His smile inched wider, “A very admirable decision.”

“The King believes me able to form a peaceful solution to our capture.”

Climbing down the stairs after rising to his feet he said, “You still hold that same hint of fear in your eyes.” Your eyes rose to meet his as he chuckled lowly, “Not of me. Clearly not of me. No, of yourself. Even in infancy you bore the same unflinching honesty your Mother and Grandmother did. How are your Grandparents? I hope they are well, we had such fond conversations over the years.”

Turning back to face you he watched a lone tear trail sink lower on your cheek through your flat response, “They fell when we fled Erebor.”

With parted lips he eyed your endless pool of unspoken pain from the long decades of waiting, “Why have you returned?”

“My King called for aid.”

“Your King-.” His near whisper broke as his own tear slid down his cheek as his fond memories with your kin flooded back all at once, unsure of what reason you had at all to follow Thorin possibly to your death.

“I serve My King just as you have served yours.” Wordlessly his lips parted then closed again before his small circle around you eyeing you for any injuries and finding several scrapes, bruises and tattered sutures made from old clothes on your arms and legs.

Stopping before you he inhaled slowly then said, “In return for aiding the Dwarves I wish to have my kin’s jewels returned to me.”

“Agreed.”

Missing your prompt agreement he continued his circling of you trying to see which of your wounds was the worst, “You were at the end, you saw-,” His body turned to stand in front of you again meeting your gaze, “Agreed?”

You nodded, “I will need it in writing though.” With a nod of his own he motioned his hand to the side leading you to the attached meeting room halfway exposed to the moonlit gardens you longingly eyed as he wrote out the simple terms.

Between stolen glances at you he real his words aloud, “I, King Thranduil Oropherion, do solemnly swear to grant safe passage, along with granting any necessary weapons or supplies at my disposal to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield in aid of their reclamation of Erebor. In return for their release-, how do you spell your name Miss Pear-Baggins?”

Turning your head he spotted the two other tear trails and the fresh trail of blood you had wiped away from your nose as you moved to his side spelling your name then watched as he continued. “In return for their release and safe delivery to Erebor, Jaqiearae Pear-Baggins, Swears to return the chest filled with the Jewels of Lasgalen along with the necklace formed of those gems sharing its chest to King Thranduil Oropherion upon the reclamation of Erebor.” Turning his head he caught your eye, “Any other stipulations you would wish to add?”

“None Thorin would uphold.” His brow rose, “It’s not important. Just my own ideas for a future friendship between your Kingdoms.”

Leaning back in his chair a ghost of a smile grew on his face, “Oh really, and what ideas would those be? Anything close to what it once was?”

“I doubt either of you were satisfied with your former terms.”

With a soft chuckle he straightened again reclaiming his pen to sign his name in Elvish script before sliding the page to you through offering the pen. Your hand curled around the pen you lowered to leave your elegantly scripted name in its Hobbitish Runes while he drew out another sheet of paper and reclaimed the pen after while his Son stepped forward to sign as witness to the agreement. On the quickly filled paper your suggested guidelines you had formed for the pairs of lands through the years in what you’d learned and overheard through your passing between messages drew impressed smiles from both Elves.

Both gladly led you to the apartment you were being gifted, to bathe and meet with the healer for your numerous wounds, beside the rooms the Dwarves had already been led to to pace impatiently waiting for word from you. After bathing and changing into the fresh set of clothes tucked in your pack gifted to you from Rivendell and joined the and joined the others waiting for you, all raising their heads with eager expressions looking you over as you secured the end of your long braid with a worn near snapping ribbon you’d worn since fleeing Erebor.

Claiming your seat on Thorin’s right his eyes locked with yours as he asked in Khuzdul, “It went well?”

You nodded, “The King has agreed to aid us to Erebor.”

Balin smiled as he clapped his hands, “Well done Miss Pear!”

Flashing him a weak smile you caught Thorin’s eyes as he asked, “You promised him the jewels?” As your lips moved to part he added, “No matter. I’m certain you can manage to enforce his upholding his promise.” His eyes moving to the food in the center of the table withholding his urge to shout curses at the Elves surrounding them he still bore harsh opinions of to say the least.

“I got it in writing.” Causing his eyes to rise back over to you through a nod as his smile crept onto his face. Your heads all turned to the doorway that opened to the Elf King and his Son who walked in claiming their seats across from you. Then they delved into the supplies and travel plans for the following morning after you had all rested for the night before issuing an invitation to the entire Company to the Feast of Starlight in a few weeks time. Though as you ate you were unaware of the creeping possessive wave coursing through the Dwarf King at the endearing gazes the Elf King kept sending your way until you made your way to your rooms for the night.

All around you echoes of snores filled the halls as you laid there trying to withhold the same crushing fear of finally finding proof your Grandparents had fallen leaving you slipping in and out of consciousness until the Elleth sent to fetch you for breakfast found you already awake and ready for the travels ahead.

…

Through the darkness of the mountain you worked alone tearfully through the echoes of the sifting gold. With your lip quivering you gently splayed out all the clean sheets you could gather from the nearby servants pantries to lay out on the dust and ash coated floor in the small tomb in the lower levels once a store room for the food supplies for the dungeons. Carefully you cradled each body moving them onto the sheet to be carefully wrapped through your wavering hum of a traditional Dwarven burial rite between whispers of your final words and greetings to each Dwarf you recognized, sharing words on their surviving kin soon to return. Pressing your forehead to theirs for a quiet moment before the final folds over their faces.

Once carefully wrapped you marked their name in runes on the outside that you copied onto the blank journal you’d gathered from near the sheets used to copy down orders from the Nobles the servants were bound to. As you copied the thirtieth name you missed the silencing of the gold at the silent Bur Brother having passed on your location to the Company now leading them to where you were. Quietly the elders joined in on the task as Ori claimed the task of copying the runes while Bilbo and the Princes were tasked to find more sheets.

True their fears had crept up at the glossy expression filling their King’s eyes that quickly shattered at the echoes of your hum and muffled choking sobs between whispers in the distance. The sight of you driving any care for the treasure at all from him at the clear priority he had missed, his people that had so admirably tried to flee only to fall within their own Kingdom alone in the dark. Without a word you had once again revealed the true path he should have taken as soon as they had managed to end the Fire Drake that had stolen their homes away.

The King’s heart melting and breaking simultaneously at your dust, ash and tear stained face looking onto theirs with a wavering smile as your hum break at your whispering, “I’m certain you know this already, but you have a Granddaughter, Nornu,” your voice squeaked slightly then returned to its former trembling tone, “She’s got your hair, and Bao’s eyes. Incredible at checkers, tolerable at chess, but she does try so hard, no one can fault her for that. Truly a credit to you.” Your tongue dipped out to wet your lips as the men stood clutching each other’s shirts at your personal farewell to the couple you were wrapping up. “That Daughter of yours however, still could not bake an apple crumble to save her life.” Your hint at a smile mirroring onto the men’s faces, “Just dreadful, but I am certain she will one day figure out your recipe finally and stop torturing us with her personal takes on it.” After a pressing of your foreheads to theirs you issued a final farewell and closed the last folds over their faces then recorded their names.

One by one the names filled the pages until through parted lips Bilbo eyed the last one added and said, “They’re not here.”

Clearly referring to your Grandparents spurring a glimmer of hope in the men around you only to fall at your broken whisper of, “They wouldn’t be.” Around you brows rose at your rise and quiet path out of the doorway urging the men after you from the now properly organized and scrubbed resting place for their kin until final burials by kin could be arranged. Filing after you they eyed the darkened path you took surrounded by scorched walls and tattered and melted decorations, following the hall until you took a mainly overlooked staircase on the right while Balin extended the torch he’d brought from the tomb closer to you to light your path revealing more flames that ended coating the dead end hall with a faint glimmer of a familiar set of golden chains resting in a pile of ashes and tattered bits of embroidered cloth.

Biting your lip you could taste the blood you’d drawn withholding your wails aching to break free only to be pulled firmly into the arms of the King, in his lowest level shirt, same as those behind him, with his arms circling you tightly after he stepped around you spotting your trembling returning. In your new spot kneeling in the arms of the now kneeling King holding you through your muffled choked sobs as the others grouped around you through Bifur’s unfolding the sheets he had brought to respectfully scoop the piles onto them. Gently their chains were added while the few beads and a set of keys discovered were set aside and placed into your palm when you’d calmed enough to rise and hug the silent Dwarf for claiming the task gaining a timid hug in return.

Drawing back you wiped your cheeks again and caught the curious glances from the group wondering what they had been doing down here, looking at your palm you claimed the key on the ring forming a smaller identical key to the one around Thorin’s neck as you said, “There are a few more rights to their titles other than minding the King’s jewels.” Turning around you shifted a small diamond design appearing to be part of the larger scorched design on the wall revealing a keyhole, you eased the key into it and gave it a turn releasing a firm click before a looped handle popped out from the wall you pulled on revealing an uncarved portion on caverns their kin hadn’t shaped yet, “Follow this for nearly a mile and it lets out along a stream. Follow that North, and it leads to the unmarked peaks between here and Greenwood.”

Thorin’s lips parted as you turned with tears quietly streaming down your cheeks as you sealed the door again causing the handle and keyhole to hide once more. “Gwarn’s group, the servants and merchants that met us a few days along?”

Meeting his gaze again you added, “The ones who refused to meet my gaze for months after, yes.” Bilbo wet his lips then pointed at the door, “There’s no handle or lock on the other side. No way to seal it again.”

With a trembling lip of his own Gloin gave you a firm nod knowing his Brother’s family had been among them, to say, “Impeccable Dwarves- the pair of them,”

Through a weak smile from you your eyes met, “They led great lives. Quiet but great.”

Curling the wrapped sheet in your arms you went up to your former apartment, leaving them resting on your Grandmother’s favorite chair until you could form a proper urn to add them to your kin’s tomb in the halls of Kings, a right they had earned at their faithful service to the King in their highly regarded profession. Each of the others going to bathe as well before the dinner you all would put together, all having a small celebration until you broke off to go to bed. Painfully each memory flooded back as you sat quietly weeping in the corner of the bath, the one room you felt ease at being in without the only kin you’d ever known in your early life. Unable to bear it anymore you slowly crept into your bedroom to collect a pack of clothes then made your way quietly out of the mountain using a rope to climb down from the overlook.

Once on the ground you tied the ropes end around a rock you threw back up onto the overlook and turned away headed straight for the mountains off in the distance. In silence your pain waned once again at the calming solitude you had needed to deal with the finality of your place alone in the world except for Bilbo, his Sister and future child. Day by day the mountains grew before you while a not so subtle Raven that was sent after you hopped from one small peak to another on the rock wall you were approaching. Through the early morning light you followed a small winding path leading you around the near thunderously loud footsteps of the patrolling guards all missing your passing them in their focus on searching for any enemies leaving them deaf to your silent footsteps.

At the large gate barely visible at certain angles your hand clenched and rose to give the hidden slot a firm knock stirring a round of confused glances between the guards inside. Timidly the slot was opened nearly causing the guard peeking through to jump back at the purple eyed leaf eared woman staring back at him, wetting his lips he called out, “Who goes there?”

“I bear a message for your King Dain from his Cousin Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.” The grey eyes locked with yours widened as the two guards listening in grabbed hold of the door giving it a firm tug allowing you inside.

All around you curious Dwarves eyed you, most near the gates unsure of this strange creature in their midst until a round of stunned gasps and expecting smiles grew on familiar faces from Erebor grew in number and flocked around your path to the throne room bowing their heads to you respectfully. Holding your gaze forward your eyes soon fell on the fiery haired King in the middle of a meeting around his model map bearing table surrounded by his Council soon turned to face you at the guard approaching his side alerting him of your presence.

Just as his glowing blue eyes fell on your clearly exhausted and ready to collapse figure your eyes darted to the elderly Dam bursting in with her Daughter in law and Granddaughter after her. Respectfully your head bowed to them as you greeted the elder on her trot over to you through her teary gaze, “Queen Niro, Princess Diaa, Princess Dis.”

The younger pair bobbed their heads in return as the former Queen stopped before you resting her hands on your shoulders through a teary smile as she replied, “I am so, you’re safe?”

Your head nodded, “Yes Your Majesty. Your Grandson and his Company all made it safely to Erebor, though they are in need of reinforcements.” Her lips parted, “Word of the bounty on King Thorin’s head still stands. Numbers are gathering.”

Her head turned to Dain who had eyed you curiously through your conversation before meeting her eyes to say, “And reinforcements he shall get. I will send word to the other Kingdoms right away. We can leave at nightfall.” His hand rose to wave over his scribe while the Dams ushered you towards their shared apartment.

Queen Niro looped her arm with yours leading you to the hall saying, “I want to hear everything before you rest, you look nearly about to drop.”

…

Panicked glances filled the Lonely Mountain at the creeping sound of hooves grew louder until the clear Dwarven horn sounded through the air granting creeping smiles onto the faces of the armor clad Company. On a slow approach for the Mountain Dain’s men rode while you rode alone on your gifted giant ram to make your way through the open plains to enter the forest once again. Nearly to noon your head drooped forward at your falling asleep stirring the Elf on patrol to climb down from their hidden perch to climb onto the back of the ram at its slowing due to your body’s attempt at slumping over.

Approaching the castle you slept against the Elf’s chest until the waiting King alerted to your arrival approached noticing his out of place guard clutching your slumped form. Stepping forward his arms raised in relief that you were merely exhausted, claiming the task of holding you against his chest to carry you inside while the guard returned to his post and Tauriel carried your bag listening to the King say, “I am certain you simply need to rest now. We can discuss the finalizing of our contract later.” Trying his best to hold his calm expression at your arms shifting to clutch around his neck tighter as you mumbled to yourself in Hobbitish through the wave of silent tears easing down your cheeks and the wave of pain coursing through you at yet another dream flooded with images of your former life and how it should have continued.

Back again in your previously gifted room he lowered you to the bed where Tauriel stepped forward after setting down your bag to aid in releasing your grip on the King’s robe, a task heartbreakingly painful to him at the scrunched up expression forming on your face through another stream of tears over your pale cheeks from your pink slightly puffy shut eyelids. “Please, Mahal don’t leave me alone.” Slid out from you in a near pleading exhale causing the King’s head to tilt unsure of what you’d said, only knowing it revealed another painful stab in the King’s chest at your slumbering sniffle through rolling over to curl into a ball around your pillow as he covered you carefully once Tauriel had set your boots beside the bed revealing the bandages under the near tattered layer.

Turning away they both left, Tauriel in a path to find you a replacement pair of boots and the King headed for the large Garden Ballroom their Feast of Starlight was to be held in once again. Mere moments after entering the grounds he spotted and made a straight line to his Son who was giving final decisions on the minor details to meet his Father’s liking one moment then stood stunned in a tight embrace from the King. Leaving his hands extended at his sides for an exhale before feeling the cheek rubbing against his forehead to nuzzle closer to him drawing one arm to circle the King’s back in return while his other hand tapped on the far left of the three plate designs offered to him before joining its twin around the King. In a relaxing exhale the King clutched him tighter at the same mumbled statement or, “It’s things like this that makes others call us strange.”

Nuzzling closer to his Son he mentally repeated his same endearment, “I Love You My Little Leaf. No harm will find you here.”

“I know Ada. I Love You too.” As the King drew back Legolas’ face shifted spotting the out of place tears across his cheek after their common Man-stolen trait of endearment, “What happened.”

“Miss Pear-Baggins returned. Something broke her heart.” Another tear slid down his cheek, “Her incredibly pure heart is breaking, and I fear it is nothing we can mend.”

Legolas nodded, “Is she bathing? We could send up some teas, or, food, Hobbits are at ease around food, right?”

Through a weak smile Thranduil replied, “I fear food cannot do much for this pain. All we can do is wait for the damage to heal on its own.” Earning a nod from the Prince who tried and failed to distract himself and the King with more deciding of the final details.

Alone in a familiar cocoon of soft sheets you awoke groaning heavily from the nearly unbearable weight in your chest from the radiating yet stabbing near constant pain from your night of painful dreaming. After taking in a breath you eased over to the edge of the bed and bit back your pained hiss at adding weight to your painfully injured and bruised feet then crossed to the small bath to scrub your face only to flinch at your stained and worn reflection looking back at you. Once in your younger years you’d imagined yourself at least tolerable to those around you, but now, in this state the upcoming tradition of thievery stabbed deeply at you on the thought of being worthy of being discovered as the thief at all. True it had been to aid the then Prince in not being trapped in a courtship with the wrong Dam, who later ended up being shaved and banished along with her kin at their discovered treachery, but could you ever imagine yourself to be enough for a King.

Lowering your gaze to the water you focused on scrubbing your exposed skin as best you could trying to force back the sneers possible suitors your Grandfather had suggested had once sent your way. Beardless and more Hobbitish than tolerable for most Dwarves tastes, no, clearly not enough, besides, a King needs heirs, full blooded heirs to take his place one day, something you could never grant him. With another warm trail sinking down your cheek your head turned at the group of Healers that had knocked on the door to your bath eyeing your trembling stance before they quickly crossed to you, aiding in your stripping then placed you on a stool for minor mending of wounds as your soaking herb bath was drawn.

Secured in your newly gifted simple velvet gown while your belongings were being mended and scrubbed you claimed your place at the table in the Royal Dining hall at the lone table setting for your meal as you stole yet another glimpse at the bundled up chest you set beside you having assumed to being taken to offer the trade off to the King. Alone you finished the large helping as the guard repeated the King’s mildly worded order to do so to recover your strength, leaving your chest mildly stinging knowing the Dwarves probably weren’t having a feast like this after their travels. But you obeyed then thanked the guard and servants coming to clear the table gaining smiles from them while you cradled the chest and carried it to wherever the guard was leading you.

Glancing around you took in the details of the castle until the bustling gardens came into view with the King floating his way over to you through them with a somewhat relieved expression on his face. “You look much better, Miss Pear-Baggins.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, you can just say Pear, if it’s easier, the Dwarves do.”

His head nodded and he motioned his hand for you to join him to the same meeting room you’d formed your first contract in where he said though claiming his seat, “Business first, then I have a request of you.” You nodded and claimed your chair at his offer, “Please, sit.”

Wetting your lips you set the chest on the table before him and eased onto the tall chair setting your feet on the bar between the legs at your inability to reach the ground. “Jewels and necklace as promised Your Majesty.” Carefully he untied your ribbon you’d wrapped it in to keep it from spilling out at any possible jostling before exhaling slowly at the glowing gems inside casting light onto his already glowing figure then gently drew the intricate necklace out for inspection before putting it all away again and wrapping the bow just as you had. Turning his head to face you, he smiled at you softly and asked, “How were your travels? I heard you accompanied the Iron Hills Dwarves back to Erebor, and there is news of more forces joining soon from the South.”

“It was peaceful. I um, needed the silence. I do apologize for taking so long to pass over the jewels, I simply wished to be alone for a time.” Thanduil’s head nodded at his watching the pain surface again in your eyes restarting your struggle not to cry. “We, bundled the fallen. My, Grandparents included.” His lips parted, “Or, what was left of them, merely ash and golden beads.” Drawing the King’s eyes to the burned beads secured in new braids woven on the left side of your face. “I’m sorry, I-.”

His hand extended to rest on yours on your lap, “You have nothing to apologize for. I trust you. I knew you would honor our terms. Did Thorin give you any difficulties with collecting the gems?”

You shook your head, “You held your word, no reason for us not to hold to ours. If, you meant Dragon Sickness,” Your eyes rose to his catching his nod at your correct guess, “Then no. He showed signs at first, but then they all aided with the bundling and, his eyes cleared.”

Thranduil exhaled again, “I am glad to hear that.” Easing his hand over the back of yours to raise it palm side up allowing him to examine the now gone blisters and cuts on both. “Now that you are physically mended and bathed, my request is to claim your first dance at the Feast of Starlight, of which you and all of Thorin’s kin are welcome to, your Cousin Bilbo as well.”

“Of course your Majesty.” His smile returned, “Good, your clothes should be ready shortly as well as your ram for my guards to escort you safely back to Erebor to prepare for tomorrow night’s festivities along with passing on the report of the finalized contract and all that.” You nodded again as he looked you over once again. “I don’t believe I’ve given you the full tour yet.” He rose to his feet urging you to do the same and claim his side for the lengthy walk until you were finally led back to the gates after collecting your things and new gifts you thanked him heavily for along the way before the two hour long trip back.

Pt 2

#Thorin x Reader OC #Thranduil x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

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bravonovel · 3 years

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Playing with A Billionaire read novel online on Bravonovel

Playing with A Billionaire https://www.bravonovel.com/playing-with-a-billionaire-7874

Playing with A Billionaire novel is a Romance story about Emma Cole and Ethan Hollen.

When plain simple nerdy Emma Cole goes to Hollen Tower for an interview she quickly realizes she is out of her league. The women of Hollen Tower are gorgeous, and their shoes cost more than her entire wardrobe. But an accident, and a talent for coffee, put Emma in the position to meet the man of her dreams. There's just one problem, he's engaged. And when Emma falls for CEO Ethan Hollen she finds herself in the middle of a dangerous plot she never would have imagined. Ethan Hollen wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth but he climbed the ladder to riches very quickly. At just twenty four, he is one of the youngest and most powerful CEOs. With a huge mansion, several cars, successful business, and beautiful fiancée, he has it all. But when internal enemies threaten everything he's built, he must quickly act to save his company and the woman he loves.

You can read Playing with A Billionaire novel on Bravonovel Web or App.

Playing with A Billionaire novel Chapter 1

Prologue

Emma Cole, a nerd in high school and untouched all throughout her life at a community college, was abandoned by her birth parents and grew up in foster care homes all around New York. Whenever her name was mentioned, the people who knew her laughed and called her foul names, since she looked like the female version of Steve Urkel and was easy to pick on and belittle. She had no sense of style. All she wore were big dresses that hid her tiny figure underneath and glasses which didn't do her eyes any justice. She owned one bag-- a beat-up leather she received as a gift from a spelling bee contest her freshman year in high school.

Though she went to school, she had no friends, no family, and no one to teach her about becoming a lady. Emma had done everything by herself since she was one year old-- the age she was dumped by her parents into the foster system.

At age twenty three, she lived in a very small apartment by herself. She wasn't able to land a high-paying job to afford a good house, as of yet. Every time she applied to a vacant position she may have seen in a newspaper in the cafe, they would turn her down when she went to the interviews and the interviewers took one look at her. Appearance was more than her qualifications if she wanted to land a job as a receptionist or personal assistant at one of the big firms in New York City.

Emma decided to stop hoping for a better job and stuck with being a waitress at Carl's Cafe.

Her hell on earth.

Carl was the manager and owner of the cafe. A grown man, forty-five years old, who had experienced all the things he had chosen to chase in his pathetic life. He was a terrible boss and treated his employees as his personal slaves with low wages. One of his nasty habits was hitting on his female employees while on the job, but he never hit on Emma. Although she was a female, she just wasn't his type and was too unattractive to even be bothered with.

____________

It was Wednesday morning.

Emma had only just clocked-in. She placed her bag in her designated locker and began to take the orders of the customers, who were already in abundance for their morning coffee or pancakes and eggs or any breakfast meals of their choice from the menus provided.

She was about to deliver the orders to the kitchen when a pair of hands grabbed her by the arm.

"You have to work a double today. Tisha is sick. I need you to fill in." And he was gone right after his command.

Emma continued to the kitchen to drop off the customers' orders. Since Tisha was sick, she would have to take her place at the cash register and coffee machines. She was about to have another terrible day in hell but, obeying Carl's command, she worked the double shift without complaint.

On Thursday, the same thing happened-- working a double without getting anything extra for filling in. And the same thing happened on Friday.

Emma was drained, but it was finally Saturday, and it was her day off. She decided to visit a library and take several books to the park for a read. It was the beginning of summer, and she needed the fresh air.

She had just stepped out of her narrow bathroom when her cheap phone, which still had raised keys and couldn't connect to WiFi, rang.

"Emma, I need you to come in right now. Be here in less than twenty minutes!"

Before she could object he had hung up. She had really hoped for some free time to herself, and apart from that, she was exhausted, but she had to comply. How would she afford her crap apartment if she was jobless?

She took her precious time getting ready and arrived an hour later than Carl demanded she be there. He was furious with her and yelled at her as soon as she clocked in.

"I told your malnourished ass to be here in less than twenty minutes!"

Indeed Emma Cole appeared very skinny due to all the over-sized clothes she wore. Without even giving him a glance, she went to the customers to take their orders.

When she was making coffee for an angry, beer belly guy at the front of the line, who was yelling at her and calling her names, she lost her temper and threw the entire cup of coffee in his face. He had called her an incapable, handicapped, low-budget paying maid, who wouldn't even get extra if she shook it at a strip club because she looked like the hobbit in Lord of the Rings.

She had never been so humiliated. Yes, she had it rough in high school but it had gotten a little better at college because everyone there seemed much more mature than the bullies at high school. Now, this grown man was yelling at her because his coffee was ten minutes late. It wasn't even her fault. She was supposed to be off today. Had he kept his mouth shut, she wouldn't have splashed the coffee all over his chubby, beard-covered face.

Carl appeared just as the man was about to throw a table back at Emma. "Hey hey hey, what's going on here?"

"That incompetent waitress of yours just threw a damn cup of hot coffee in my face, man!"

"Sir, please calm down and put the table down. I'll handle this," Carl instructed. "Emma! You're fired!"

"What, you don't even want to hear what I have to say? He embarrassed me and..."

Carl cut her off, "Get your things and get out. I can't have you throwing coffee in people's faces and still have you working here. GET OUT, EMMA!!"

Emma threw her apron to the ground, took her bag out of the locker and walked out. "I hated it here anyway," she said as she passed Carl and the impatient customers on the way out.

Prologue ends here.

Emma's POV

I buried my head on my stale pillows when I got home, hitting them with my hands from my anger as the tears came.

I've been fired, what am I going to do now?

I somehow managed to gather myself and my emotions. It was still early.

"There's still time to go to the library and then the park," I said to myself as I got off the bed.

I changed into something skimpier, still concealing my entire figure underneath. I was insecure about my body and ashamed of the scars it possessed.

I started on my heel and headed to the library then the park. I was sitting on the bench reading Counting Raindrops Through A Stained Glass Window, when an old lady with platinum blonde hair sat down beside me.

"Hello dear," she greeted, kindly.

For an old woman by herself in the park, she wore very expensive jewelry. I could tell just by looking at it.

"Hello ma'am," I greeted back with a small smile. I continued with my book as she opened a newspaper.

Twenty minutes into reading, two men in black tuxedos approached our bench. They resembled characters in Men In Black-- not a smile on their faces as they took long strides toward us.

I panicked. I was easily frightened.

The elder woman stood up and extended her arms to them. They held onto her, supporting her to help her stand on her own two feet. They left without another word. Suddenly, I noticed she had forgotten her newspaper. I took it and ran in their direction.

"Excuse me, ma'am!" I called, getting a little closer, but was cutoff by one of the bodyguards.

"Can I help you miss?" he asked firmly, with a tone that made me regret running after them.

"I'm sorry, the... lady forgot ...her newspaper." I was out of breath. Damn, I needed to exercise more.

"Why don't you keep it and educate yourself? Maybe then you'll find out who 'the lady' is, so you can address her by her name next time."

His response was rude but encouraging. I walked back to the bench and watched as the black SUV drove away with her inside. I looked at the page she was reading to the left side of the article it stated: "Personal Assistant wanted at Hollen Tower. Terms and conditions apply."

And, of course, terms and conditions meant college education, knowledge about the job's responsibilities, punctual, fluent in English, impeccable character, previous work experience, related employment history, and more. I had applied for so many jobs like this before but gotten turned down once they looked at me-- like I wasn't human. I wasn't like them.

I wasn't like them, actually. I didn't own a house or a car or have expensive clothes and shoes, or have the ability to wine and dine at restaurants, but I was a human being too!

I was a plain and simple one. I lived in a cheap apartment, wore beat-up clothes that were stained and crumpled; I ate scraps left in the kitchen at Carl's Cafe after breakfast, lunch and dinner were served. After my rent was paid I usually had money for my essential needs, like feminine products and canned foods that didn't spoil in a hurry-- since I didn't own a refrigerator.

I was at rock bottom, but I'd accepted it and learned how to be satisfied with the little I had and could afford. I found comfort in reading books. I loved reading about the poor girls who found princes and billionaires who swept them off their feet, got married and lived happily ever after like Cinderella. I kept on wishing something like that would happen to me, but they were only books; they were fiction. In this modern world princes and billionaires didn't go for poor girls like me. They dated models and designers, and women with the looks, body, and beauty who could fit into their lifestyle. Who would want someone like me?

I got on my feet and left the park before it got too dark out. I was afraid of walking the streets at night.

I arrived at my apartment three hours later. I sat on a hard, uncomfortable chair as I read through the newspaper's articles one more time. Something at the back of my mind told me that I should give it one more shot, but something else just wanted me to give up.

"Look at your life, Emma, you got fired today. You're jobless, the rent would be due at the end of the month or else out on the street you go. You don't have anyone who could take you in and care about you. You have to try to get another job," said one side.

"Emma, just give up. You're not going to get a job at Hollen Tower. It's too grand for your taste. They'll do what they always do, take one look at you and turn their faces. Just give up, you'll be evicted, so what? You wouldn't be the first to get evicted and live on the streets. Why not join a gang?" said the other.

I was frustrated. I looked at my life and cried myself to sleep.

I knew when the clock struck seven the next morning I would be out of this shack and on my way to Hollen Tower. I needed to try just one more time.

This time I will make bigger efforts in my appearance to land the job. I will get the job, just watch.

......

Continue to read Chapter 2 of Playing with A Billionaire on Bravonovel Web https://www.bravonovel.com/playing-with-a-billionaire-7874/chapter-2--coffee-maid--131164 Read more exciting novels on Bravonovel App https://www.bravonovel.com/download-bravonovel-app

#Playing with A Billionaire #Emma Cole #Ethan Hollen #Bravonovel #novel #Romance #story #fiction

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berjhawn · 7 years

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Lost Lothlorien Princess - Part 8 - The Road Ahead

Warnings: None Really

Pairings: LOTR X Reader

Parts:

Part 1 - High School

Part 2 - Rivendell

Part 3 - Concerning Hobbits

Part 4 - Merry and Pippin

Part 5 - Bree

Part 6 - Aragorn

Part 7 - The Council

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That next morning while I was getting ready for my new adventure I turn at the sound of someone knocking on my door. “Yes?” I say and turn to see Elrond walk through the door a smile on his face. “What can I do for you?” I say as I grab my knapsack and start shoving things into it. “I came to return this to you,” He says as he hands me my backpack from when I lived in my old world.

“Where did you get this?” I ask as I take it my eyes wide in wonder. “It was found the same day you were, Gandalf thought it best if you were to have it now that you must take this journey.” I pull it to my chest and fighting back tears say, “Thank you so much!”

He smiles and I instantly pull it away and opening it start to empty the contents out onto my bed. I smile as I move the schoolbooks around until my eyes fall upon my binder with pictures of my other parents taped to it. Tears threaten my eyes as I slowly reach down and picking the binder up gently touch the pictures. “Are these the people you spoke of?” He asks and I nod as I say, “Yes,”

“You look like a happy family,” He says gently touching my shoulder. I suddenly feel anger fill my body and tossing the binder back onto the bed say, “Yeah, well looks can be deceiving.”

I can sense he wishes to know more but he doesn’t ask. I spot a familiar shiny object and my eyes light up as I instantly reach for it. “I can’t believe this still has power?” I say as I turn on my IPod smiling as I see that the battery is completely charged. “What is this?” Elrond asks his eyes full of wonder. I smile as I hand him a earpiece and say, “Put this in your ear,” Raising an eyebrow the elder elf slowly places the earpiece into his ear and I smile as I say, “Now let’s find something less hardcore,”

Swiping through my music I find “The Parting Glass” sung by Peter Hollens and smile as I press the play button. As the song begins his eyes widen and he stares at me confused.

“Where I am from we have thousands of singers and millions of songs. So the smart people of my world invented this little device to record it all on. That way when you need a song to make you feel better you have one at the touch of a button.” I say as I turn the IPod back off and take the headphones from him. “It is a interesting invention I must say.” He says as he turns back to the contents of my bag. I gently place the IPod into my pocket for safekeeping and then return to my backpack.

Picking up my sketchbook I smile as I flip through the pages. “Who is this?” Elrond asks once I land on a drawing that even I didn’t remember who it was. “I don’t know, I’ve seen him in my dreams but I’ve never actually met him.” Elrond nods as he reaches down and picks up a algebra book. Closing the sketchbook I quickly place it into my knapsack and glancing over at him smile. “I don’t think you’d like that book, and then again you might.”

I smile as I pick up all my school books and handing them to him say, “You might like all of these, it’s the history of my country, great literature, and science. Well maybe the science will be a little out of your league; but hey have at it. I’m not going to need them anymore.” He nods as he gently lays the books back on my bed as he says, “I wish that you would change your mind, but knowing you like I do I know better.” I smile as I turn and wrapping my arms around him say, “Na lû e-govaned vîn.” (Until next we meet) I feel his arms tighten around me and tears threaten to fill my eyes.

Pulling away I grab my knapsack and giving him a quick smile head off to where the fellowship was supposed to meet. When I arrive I am greeted by the smiles of Merry and Pippin who instantly wave to me. I quickly walk over to them and letting out a grateful sigh say, “Finally I get to wear pants.” Pippin chuckles and I glance over to see Merry blush as he says, “I thought you looked very beautiful in your dress.” I smile brightly as I lean down and gently placing a kiss on the Hobbit’s cheek say, “Thank you Merry Brandybuck.”

I turn away from him as his face turns even redder with embarrassment. I giggle as I walk over to Frodo who is trying to hide his amusement. “Was that really necessary?” I hear Gandalf ask and I giggle as I say, “What I was only having a bit of fun?”

“I thought it was mildly amusing; however I doubt your fiancé feels the same.” Gandalf says as he motions with his eyes toward Legolas who was staring at me along with Aragorn and Boromir. “I am not engaged to anyone and I will not be getting married anytime soon. Besides I’m only eighteen I have hundreds of years left until I finally decide to settle down.”

“My dear you may be only eighteen where you are from but here you are centuries old.” Gandalf says and my eyes widen as I say a little loudly, “WHAT?!” Everyone in the courtyard suddenly starts to stare at me as I stare at the wizard eyes wide with confusion. “Okay let me ask you one thing, was I born before or after Sauron’s demise?”

Gandalf clears his throat as he says, “Before,” My heart drops as I suddenly feel faint. Was Sauron my father? It would explain why even when I didn’t hold the ring I could hear it and feel everything Frodo did. I open my mouth to ask Gandalf but instantly close it shaking my head.

“Are you all ready?” I hear Aragorn say and without looking at Gandalf I nod. I knew that along our Journey I would end up meeting my mother so I made it a mission to ask her and see if it was true. Waving goodbye to Arwen and Elrond I start off after everyone as they start off leaving the city of Rivendell. The Fellowship climbs the long steep path out of the cloven vale of Rivendell. I remain quiet as we travel south of Rivendell. I didn’t want to learn the answer as to who my father was but I couldn’t help but wonder. We trek through a land of deep valleys and turbulent waters and I smile as the misty mountains rise sharply to our left.

“We must hold to his course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our road turns east, to Mordor.” I marvel at the mountains as we finally make our way to the Eregion Hills. I look out over the hills as the sun starts to set my mind full of unanswered questions. I sigh as I look down to see the rest of my company laughing and enjoying themselves and I smile. I knew the outcome for each of my companions, all would live save for one. My heart tenses as I see how close he was getting to Merry and Pippin.

I knew I should tell Boromir but I also knew that I couldn’t. Biting my lip I pull out my IPod and placing the earphones into my ear I grab my sketchbook. I quickly turn on my Lord of the Rings playlist and smile as the “I See Fire” cover by Peter Hollens fills my ears. Pulling out a pencil from my bag start drawing the scene of my companions smiling faces before me. I subconsciously start singing along with the chorus as I start to get deep into my drawing, completely oblivious that they were now watching me.

“oh should my people fall then

surely I'll do the same

confined in mountain halls we

got too close to the flame

calling out father, oh,

hold fast and we will

watch the flames burn auburn on the mountainside

desolation comes upon the sky

now I see fire

inside the mountain

I see fire

burning the trees

and i see fi-i-ire

hollowing souls

and I see fi-i-i-ire

blood in the breeze

and i hope that you remember me

and if the night is burning I will cover my eyes

for if the dark returns then my brothers will die

and as the sky is falling down it crashed into this lonely town

and with that shadow 'pon the ground I hear my people screaming out

and I see fire

inside the mountain

I see fire

burning the trees

and i see fi-i-ire

hollowing souls

and I see fi-i-i-ire

blood in the breeze

and I see fire

(oh you know I saw a city burning)

(feel the heat upon my skin)

(oooooh)

and I see fire burning auburn on the mountainside.”

As the song ends I glance back toward them for another reference and I see them all staring at me and my eyes widen when I realize I was singing out loud. Pulling the headphones from my ears I say, “Um I don’t suppose you heard any of that did you?” I see the looks of recognition in their eyes and I am about to say something when Gimli says, “T’was beautiful my lady, my father would have loved to have heard your song.” I smile as I remember that his father was one of the fourteen that were originally from Erebor.

“Thank you Gimli, that’s very kind of you.”

“How about another song, Princess?” I hear Gandalf say and my eyes widen as I say, “Oh I couldn’t, and I wasn’t even meaning to sing the first time I was just so into drawing that I forgot where I was.”

“What may I ask were you drawing in your book?” Gandalf asks and I grin lovingly as I say, “Our fellowship. One day when they tell stories of Frodo and his Fellowship of the Ring, I want there to be pictures of you all.”

I laugh as Merry and Pippin instantly run over to me and say in unison, “Can we see them?” I smile as I say, “Well it’s not finished yet but if you want I can show you a few from when I was back in my world.” Merry instantly plops down beside me causing a giggle to escape my lips. I am instantly surrounded by all of them as I slowly flip through the book making sure that I don’t show them something too modern for them.

As I flip through the picture I stop on one and instantly hear Legolas say, “Is that my father?” I glance down at the drawing and my eyes widen as I realize that it is in fact a drawing of the elven king. “It is,” I say disbelievingly. “But I don’t see how that’s possible, I’ve never met him.” You instantly flip the page and see the picture from before of the mysterious man from my dreams and I instantly hear Frodo ask, “Who is he?” I narrow my eyes as I say, “I don’t know, he appears in my dreams sometimes so I figure he’s just my own creation.”

I flip the page again and my eyes widen as I realize I am staring at the drawing I did of Kili and Tauriel staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. Clearing my throat I instantly close the book and say, “That’s enough for tonight, excuse me I’ll be right back.” I say as I put the book under my arm and quickly walk away into the woods. Once I am alone I let out a sigh of relief. “I completely forgot about that one being in here.” I say to myself as I open it back up to see more drawings of middle earth and sigh as I realize that my visions of each one of my companions were all spot on. After a few minutes I head back to the camp to find everyone calming down and starting to sleep.

I sigh as I walk back over to my pack and placing my sketchbook back inside I lie down beside it and holding it tightly to my chest instantly fall asleep. The next morning I am awaken by the clanking of metal. Sitting up I look over to see Sam at the campfire, while Aragorn and Boromir are giving Pippin and Merry Sword tuition. I smile as I run a hand through my hair smoothing it. This was always one of my favorite parts of the books. “Get away from the blade, Pippin...on your toes...good, very good...I want you to react, not think.”

“Should not be too hard.” I hear Sam say and I chuckle. “Move your feet.” Boromir says as he waves his sword at Pippin who roughly blocks his attack. “Quite good, Pippin.” Merry says causing his cousin to smile as he says, “Thanks.” I glance to my left to see that Gimli has Gandalf cornered, “If anyone were to ask for my opinion, which I note they have not, I would say we are taking the long way round. Gandalf, we can pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome.”

I instantly stand and interject saying what Gandalf is thinking, “No, Gimli. We should not take the road through Moria unless we have no other choice.” I visually see Gandalf relax and I sigh as I turn just in time to see Boromir thrust his sword, catching Pippin on the hand. Pippin throws down his sword, kicks and lunges at Boromir, tackling him to the ground causing everyone to burst into laughter.

I instantly look to my right to see that Legolas' eyes are fixed on a distant Dark Patch which darts about the sky, like flying smoke in the wind. Walking up beside him I follow his gaze a knot filling my stomach. “What is that?” Sam asks making everyone else turn toward us their gaze following ours. “Nothing...it's just a wisp of a cloud.” Gimli says and I groan inwardly.

“It's moving fast...against the wind.” Boromir says as he sheathes his sword. “Crebain from Dunland!” Legolas cries out making Aragorn cry out, “Hide!” We all scramble under what little cover there is. I hide under a rock lying next to someone who I was too panicked to even check whom. I watch as a regiment of large crows fly low overhead at great speed, wheeling and circling above. As their dark shadow passes over us, a single harsh croak is heard; and the crows suddenly wheel away, back towards the south. Gandalf staggers to his feet.

“Spies of Saruman. The passage South is being watched.” Gandalf says giving a heavy sigh. I suddenly realize I am lying next to someone and looking up see the familiar blue eyes of Legolas and my heart starts to race. My eyes stare into his as I suddenly become aware of how close we actually are to each other. His eyes dart from mine to my lips, making butterflies fill my stomach.

Then right as I think he is about to kiss me I hear Gandalf say, “We must take the pass of Caradhras!” I watch as Legolas blinks and clearing his throat climbs out from under the rock leaving me there to try and calm my body.

‘What the hell was that?’ I say to myself as I force myself out from under the rock and taking a deep breath avoid eye contact with him as I grab my bag and follow in sink behind the rest of the fellowship as we head toward the Misty Mountains.

Will Continue in - Moria

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