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Story Notes:
WARNING: The following story is extremely clichéd and contains many coincidences and plot holes. A lot of it is just plain silly. I will not take responsibility for any brain damage or drops in IQ anyone experiences whilst reading this story.
DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I do not own any of J.R.R. Tolkein's miraculously ingenious characters, places, events, creatures, or anything else "The Lord of the Rings" Trilogy contains. I simply enjoy whiling away the wee hours of the morning inventing new, strange concepts for the Lord of the Rings that J.R.R. Tolkein did not include in his writings.
Ok, now for the story--
Arrow was a Wood Elf born in the South of Mirkwood. From a very young age, Arrow wanted to venture up-country and join King Thranduil's large army of other elves who were incredibly brave, intelligent and enduring. That or incredibly stupid.

This is the tale of a young female Elf who would sacrifice her past to make something of herself. She will lop off her long, luxurious straight auburn locks, adorn her elder brother's ill-fitting clothing and bind her breasts with large amounts of elastic. She will learn to sword fight and use a bow properly, and also, she will learn how to use good table manners. Many stories have been made before this one with much the same plotline. This one is just as crappy as all the others, too.

So one day while Arrow was bumming around fantasizing about dismembering various evil creatures with different lethal weapons, some Crebain from Dunland flew not four centimeters above her head and startled her into falling off her rather fungusy tree stump and into the tall cutting grass that was full of stinging ants.

Arrow threw herself up, her perfect hair flying away from her face in a beautiful arc and shouted "Crebain, from Dunland!" to nobody in particular and flung herself behind a bush that revealed most of her body to anyone who would care to be glancing into the clearing at the time.

She waited there for over two minutes to make absolute sure that all the little black birds were gone, before cautiously creeping out from behind the sparse bush and fleeing from the openness of the clearing into the safety of her home.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against the heavy oak door, sighing heavily at the evil she valiantly escaped from.

"Dinnertime! Everyone to the table, it’s a special day!" Arrow's mother's voice rang sweetly through the house, her words reminding her that it was her father's birthday.

Arrow took a step forward, tripped over the vacuum cleaner and promptly squashed her nose on the rug. She struggled off the floor and proceeded to mutter "Stupid SmartVac…" and darted into the dining room which was filled with the scent of numerous organic objects.

Her parents were health freaks. They never let Arrow or her brothers run over to FungiBurger and order three Green capped mushroom burgers with extra almonds, deep-fried onions and mustard seeds. Not even just a medium-sized MerryBerry shake or a small cup of TansyRoot fries. Never, not once. The one time Arrow's cousin's friend's boyfriend's sister's great-aunt took them to FungiBurger, Arrow drooled so much during the ordering bit, they bought an additional small-sized cup so Arrow didn’t ruin the upholstery on their horse's saddle.

Arrow plodded down on the usual chair she sat on, which today was sprinkled with red and orange leaves as a sign of festive decoration along with the rest of the room. Her eldest brother Rowan was already seated as was her father whose long black hair was plaited more nicely than it usually was.

"Happy Birthday, father. My heart sings to thee, have you had a pleasant morning?" Arrow asked.
Glorfingilod smiled at his youngest offspring and replied, "Why yes, thank you Geranium. I hope your morning has been as lovely as mine has."

Arrow grimaced. Her birth name was Geranium because her parents were avid gardeners as well as health freaks. She quickly recovered. "Thank you father. Yes my morning has been most satisfactory, but it would brighten considerably if I was called by my adopted name..." she trailed off hopefully.

Glorfingilod's expression changed in a second. The corners of his mouth plummeted and his brow creased. "Geranium was your birth name, hence it shall always be your birth name. I do not understand your dislike of it. Your grandmother's name was thusly."

"Father, grandma had Alzheimer's and didn’t know anyone else's name, let alone her own."
"Stop it, both of you. This is a happy day. Happy. H-A-P-P-Y. We must act civilized today. Civilized. C-I-V-I-L-I-Z-E-D. Now stop bickering, the casserole is coming. C-A-S—"

Rowan interrupted "Yes, mother, thank you for spelling out the words for us. But we're not stupid. We know how to spell casirol."

"Alright, I was just trying to make a point here." She toddled off into the kitchen, "I think you're going to like this. Its Four Bean Casserole, I got the recipe from www.pointy-eared-cooks.me."

We all eyed the casserole dubiously as she set it down on the table. Looking around at us all, she made an annoyed sort of noise "Where is Feanoril?" she shuffled to the doorframe and yelled through the doorway and down the hall "Feanoril, its dinner time. Come eat."

Arrow heard the sound of someone rolling out of their covers and onto the floor. Next she heard an opening door and shuffling footsteps. Then she saw her older brother (sleepy-eyed and tousle-haired) collapse into his chair and rest his head on the table in front of him. "Nice decorating job, mother." He mumbled nearly incoherently. But mothers always seem to know what their children mean anyway.

"Shall I dish out the casserole, Elrodrielithellas?" her father asked her mother as she scuffled back into the kitchen. After the grunted reply, Glorfingilod began to serve the green casserole onto each of the six wooden plates set on the table. "How much would you like Geranium? More?"

"No! STOP!" Arrow pushed the serving spoon away. "I don’t like beans…"

"They're good for you." Her father piled two more spoonfuls onto her plate, leaving room for little else.

"Father! I want to save room for the cinnamon and rhubarb cake." Arrow responded in an irritated fashion as she began pushing her casserole off her plate and onto the table. By the middle of the meal when her mother noticed, the 3-second-rule would have already claimed it.
"Oh we're not having cinnamon and rhubarb cake today dear." Elrodrielithellas shouted through the steam emitted by the oven. "We're having vanilla and eggplant cake tonight."

While Glorfingilod turned around excitedly and tried to catch a glimpse of the aforementioned cake, while exclaiming "My favorite!", the younger generation seemed much aggrieved. With annoyed groaning sounds and the like.

By the time the cream of asparagus soup was finished Arrow had had enough. Should she stage some elaborate escape rouse to fool everyone into thinking she'd gotten ill? No, that would wreck her chances of escaping during the night because her mother would want to check her temperature at sporadic times. She had to leave tonight in order to reach the king's castle with plenty of time. Darn. She'd begun to wonder if there was any point of purchasing that fake vomit, when she was served a piece of vanilla and eggplant cake with some sort of blue ice cream. She retched.

"May I be excused for one minute?" she managed to get out before another retch.

"Yes of course dear. But don’t let your Osgiliath pansy ice cream melt!"

She made it to her room and managed to open a window before she let beans fly. Now she'd have to cover it up so nobody could find it so she could run away in the night and not be found missing until dawn. She retraced her steps quickly back through the dining room saying "Just getting some fresh air. I'm fine."

Before disappearing out of the front door and around the side of her house through the stinging nettle and prickly weeds to the outside of her window. She covered the evidence with a large branch and some leaves. She thought, Arrow of Mirkwood, elf extraordinaire! She could almost hear the crowds cheering now. But first she had to get to Northern Mirkwood.

She made her way back to the porch and rang the doorbell. Whoops I live here, she thought a moment too late. She opened the door and walked thorough to find her mother who had gotten up to open the door and a quizzical look on her face.

"Darn trick-or-treaters." Arrow tried hopefully. "It's only August." She sat back down at the table.
Her mother nodded somewhat dubiously and returned to her beloved cake.

My ice cream hasn’t even melted. Man I'm good. Arrow smiled and thanked her mother for the 'lovely' meal she prepared, and wished her father happy birthday yet again.

The celebratory meal couldn’t be over soon enough. Her parents had gotten into a heated discussion about the best types of root to use in sauces. Finally after much rock-tree-swording, Rowan was left to clean up the dishes. Feanoril led Arrow into his room to pick out clothes for her escape to Northern Mirkwood. He let her have his best tunic (a nice crimson color), lucky tights (white) and fanciest boots (brown (Arrow really didn’t expect a different color)). Then he found her traveling gear (a worn tunic, second-hand tights and running boots (lets just say the colors weren’t quite as nice)). It was a marvel in itself the sheer mass of junk that was strewn across the floor. In the thinnest parts it was two tunics deep.

He managed to find (under a small pile of folk music CDs) a nice gold belt to go with the good outfit to see the king in. Hopefully the king would provide chain mail seeing as they were organic farmers, not butchers.

"Do you think we can sneak into the butcher shop and steal his chain mail gloves to create a sort of… makeshift chain mail head protector?" Arrow asked on the off chance she was right.

"Um Arrow there isn't a butcher round here for… a league."

"Oh." Arrow looked at the tag on the nice tunic:



"HEY! This is made in Italy!"

"Really? Cut the tag out and give it to Rowan. He's obsessed with that collection. He's even adding Taiwan and Japan in now." Feanoril returned to scattering his books all over his bed to find some coins he had hidden so he could save them for a special occasion. He hid them behind some book in his bookshelf which he could remember so he would never have to do what he was doing now. He still hadn’t found it after throwing 7/8s of his books across the room.

"Well I suppose he's just exited that some things aren't made in China. I found something made in New Zealand once. That was the find of the century, but I was only six so I didn’t know. It's like finding a four-leaf clover that is."

Feanoril had dived into the interstice between his bed and the floor to find something else, so he couldn’t hear her.

"ROWANIFOUNDSOMETHINGMADEINITALYCOMEHEREFASTIDONTHAVEALLDAY." Arrow couldn’t be stuffed doing all the work herself, and he's the one that wanted it.

Rowan immediately appeared in the doorway clutching scissors and his beloved 'Not Made in China' collection book of tags from all over the world.

Arrow handed him the tunic (at which he began snipping cautiously) and turned back to the room which seemed to be empty at first glance. Then she saw movement in one of the corners of the room (in a large pile of clean socks, sweaters and golfing equipment) and went to investigate what Feanoril was looking for now. She reached the pile and tapped on it. "Feanoril I think I have all I need, you can come out."

At that point something that was undeniably not Feanoril came out of the pile and barred its ugly pincers at Arrow. "AHH IT’S A SPIDER GET IT AWAY GET IT AWAY!" She ran full pelt out of the room and promptly hit her head on the door which she expected to be open but was not.

Feanoril struggled out of his closet and glared at the centimeter-long spider that had caused so much trouble.

7 hours later…


Arrow awoke to find her mother leaning over her with a damp cloth and an anxious expression. She pushed herself up to look at the alarm clock which read: 4:18 am. Arrow groaned in incredulity and distress. Her mother interpreted this wrong.

"Now don’t you worry. Those bumps are looking much smaller already, I've got them all covered." And she did. She was just waiting for an opportunity to try out the recipe she had found on the new age remedies and cures page of www.everything-you-ever-want-to-know-ever.me for an unguent out of rosemary, steam from boiled spinach, a tennis ball and some purple cauliflower. So far it had reduced the swelling by 2%.

"Mum get that nasty-smelling stuff off me! Bleurgh." Arrow tumbled out of her bed.

"Arrow you need to rest." Her mother replied firmly. "You took quite a fall. First you got a bump from running head-long into the door and then you got another for slamming into the floor and it wasn’t even the carpeted part. You need to rest." She repeated.

"I'm going to have a shower."

"Arrow stop this you need to recover."

"Nuh-uhh." Arrow vanished into the bathroom and emerged a new elf. Without all that suffocating balm on her head bumps the swelling had reduced by 93%. She was almost back to her former self.

"Mum I'm fine, now go back to sleep alright? Ill see you at a decent hour." Arrow got back into her bed and waited for the annoyed mumbling to cease. After 20 minutes she thought she was safe, so she got up and crept into Feanoril's room, where she found a packed bag with the clothes and supplies in it her brother had packed for her. She threw it on her back and whispered a thank-you to her brother. She turned around to head to the door when she heard his snoring stop. "Good luck sister. May your ways be green and golden; blah bladdy blah"

"Feanoril, why are you helping me?"

"Because there's some good in this world Mr. Arrow. And it's worth fightin' for."

…whoops, wrong script.

"Feanoril, why are you helping me?"

"The deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers."

...sorry, sorry.

"Feanoril, why are you helping me?"

"Well I dunno." Feanoril yawned "I guess it was because I was bored. And you know, im your brother and all that; I supposed I should help you."

Arrow grinned. "Well thanks."

"No problem. Just don’t get yourself killed alright? That’s my best tunic you know..." he rolled over and began snoring again without delay.

Arrow quickly wrote a goodbye letter to her parents so Feanoril wouldn’t have to tell them.

Dear mother and father,
I have gone to join King Thranduil's army. Please do not try to stop me, as you will only make my determination stronger. I love you both, and Rowan and Feanoril. I will return once I find solace in my life. Don’t worry about me. I'll be fine.
Bye, your loving daughter Arrow

Arrow made her way out to the barn where they kept their goats, llamas, cows, aardvarks and horses. The white and grey mare was her own; appropriately named Bow. She saddled and mounted her horse and galloped out of the barn and into the night where she immediately encountered GIANT BLOOD-SUCKING MUTANTS FROM PLUTO!!! ...alright they were only sand flies...

She rode into the first forest she found and changed into her brother's clothing.

Two and a half hours of riding through 2 forests, a mountain pass and a bog later, she entered yet another forest and her horse tripped up on a log it didn’t see. Arrow dragged herself up and helped up her horse that had gotten cut on a sharp rock it had fallen on. It was quite a shallow wound, and apart from that the mare seemed in no other way injured. Arrow looked around at her surroundings to see if any animals had smelt the horse's blood yet. Apparently not. They still had a few minutes to escape. Arrow took a few Kingswood leaves, chewed them up and put them on the wound.

She heard a noise in the bushes to the right of her. She automatically drew her bow at the sound. A small orc the size of a dwarf emerged from the shrub sporting an array of grim weapons for various situations. For example, at that very moment he had a device which was perfect to use to kill a Gondorian blacksmith on his wedding night when he's holding a 6-foot mirrored staff while standing within 10 feet of an erupting volcano and chanting in B flat. Now, granted, this particular situation might take a while to find in order to use the weapon, but that orc liked to be completely thorough when it came to this sort of thing.

"Eeeeeurk!" said the orc.

"Aaaaaah!" said the elf.

She shot him. He died. She was happy. He was not.

"Lets get out of here Bow, I hear more coming."

Arrow whispered to her mare and mounted. They cantered a full 8 meters before they were completely surrounded by orcs in assorted states of agitation and hunger. Bow snorted at their foul smelling armaments, knowing perfectly well that it was what was under their armor that would be the source of all things smelly.

Arrow shot six of them before they overwhelmed her and one stabbed her in the leg with his regulation whatever it was. She gasped with pain as the rusty metal sliced her flesh and felt like a red-hot poker had been driven into her leg. She needed help. Fast.

At that exact moment, three arrows pierced the back of the smelly orc. Then more arrows came whizzing over the bushes from the forest beyond and imbedded themselves into the countless orcs. Arrow blacked out, and fell to the ground for the umpteenth time.
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