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That was a lovely pineapple. Thranduil hadn’t seen one in ages. Oh it made his mouth water. So soft, so light, so big. But it was so high up he couldn’t reach. Well damn.
What you see is a golden twin horned, swaying while staring up at the clouds. There is no pineapple in the sky, but there are long grasses with small purple flowers. Having set out from the Basin to escape the cold and find the golden beach spoken of by some. It sounded closest to his home. His wanderings however lead him past many a good grazing meadow, and in trying to shake the cold, food called. Just the wrong food. He was now higher than his pineapple.
The horned head shook, shaking the rest of his body, and legs braced. Earth eyes looked around, had anyone felt that earthquake. Man, it shook him all up. Wow that’s a spinning sky. Ha, spinning sky. Too spinning. Head down. Oh look purple flowers…
By the time the golden slinks through the forest and into the meadows he’s mellowed a bit. Mellowed like a fine wine. He made some new friends, a lovely dark lass with tassles of green needles. She’d been too sticky and clingy for his liking, and try as he might has could not coax her to speak her name. He was on such adventures. Leaving the stick land he crossed an ocean (5 foot ocean to be exact). It had been a long hard swim, but after the cooling waters and exhilarating rush he felt strong enough to pull away the dark green lass’s token of a needles from his coat.
After crossing the ocean the golden found cloud land. Man it was a bright place, full of clouds. He walked on them, loving the feeling of walking on air. It caused the Spanish head to toss up and shoulders to roll with style. Now if only his back legs could keep up. He was all the time looking back to find them two steps behind. Pineapples dotted the sky now. Man he wanted some. To feel their juicy….juicy…lemon. It blazed at him and he hide his face from it. Lemons were tart. He wanted something sweet. Like pineapples.
Pace had picked up. Cloud walking called for a springier step. Tassles bounced off his neck and lion tail swiped at his sides. Like those cheetahs to keep their balance when they race. Learning the ways of the cheetah. Yes he was a master at Cheatahing. A smirk lighted on his lips and seemed to be stuck there. And he was racing. Yeah racing (at a trot). Look at him fly through the clouds. The earth begged him to come back down, occasionally grabbing a limb with thistle. Thistle. That was a fun word. Whistle. Birds whistle. Yes he was like a hawk in these cloud. Look a hawk they would say. What a eagle. He liked birds. Look a lady bird! Damn, that was a freaking peacock. But pretty peacocks are guys. Maybe a parrot. Pretty bird.
Noises broke to his right. Head swerved, woah there Nellie, keep ‘em steady. That was not a bird. It sat under a big tree tent. He was odd looking. He hadn’t noticed the bird. That was stupid, everyone should notice that bird. That was a pretty bird. That poor creature in the dark shadow. Golden boy noticed how the shadow was trying not to notice the bird across the cloud. Trying to hard to keep it in. (Though the world is a witness to no such feelings.) Perhaps it was a young buck who knew not what birds were for. What a tragedy. Birds were lovely. Especially pretty birds. It was too sad to see a shadow not be able to look a pretty bird, for birds like to be looked at. A smooth walk carried him closer and the golden boy paused with a barely a sway. Earth eyes took in the shadow. Then looked across to the bird off on a far cloud. Yes, he, the golden son would help the shadow find its wings and join the bird in the cloudlands. It seemed the only fit thing to do. With a smirk he looked back “She’s beautiful isn’t she.” Who was that? Oh him. A bit rough but sly as ever. Golden hinds shifted to keep his cheetah lion tail in check. Man that lemon was making everything hot. “I heard her say she likes you, Mellon.” Head looked up to the lemon. To bright. Cloven hooves carried him under the shade, closer to the shadow. “Go talk to the pretty bird.” He head up his head with a grin search the poor shadow’s face. Waiting for the reveal of the shadow’s secret. Man he was hungry. Head turned back to the bird and right above her against blue: Watermelon.
OOC :: Mellon is elvish for friend (Thran knows a tinge of elvish, but really how could I resist him saying something close to melon.)
Also birds are mares, dark green lasses are pine trees, and shadows are Vadims. =D
@[Vadim]
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