elves

Elves are cool, man.

All writers have this vague hope that the elves will come in the night and finish any stories.

For elves, sex was two souls finding each other in the dark.

All those poor elves I haven__ set free yet, having to stay over during Christmas because there aren__ enough hats!

The __lves_ are __mmortal_, at least as far as this world goes: and hence are concerned rather with the griefs and burdens of deathlessness in time and change, than with death.

Mythology was littered with people who meddled in the affairs of elves and fairies and were never again heard from.

These folk are hewers of trees and hunters of beasts; therefore we are their unfriends, and if they will not depart we shall afflict them in all ways that we can.

Nissa, you have a kind and bold heart, Follow it, and you will never go astray.

I get depressed with these fluffy dragons and noble elves. Elves were never noble. They were cruel bastards. And I dislike heroes. You can__ trust the buggers. They always let you down. I don__ believe in the natural nobility of kings, because a large percentage of them in our history have turned out to be power-crazed idiots. And I certainly don__ believe in the wisdom of wizards. I__e worked with their modern equivalents, and I know what I__ talking about.

I shall have to go. But-" and here Frodo looked hard at Sam- "if you really care about me, you will have to keep that DEAD secret. See? If you don't, if you even breathe a word of what you've heard here, then I hope Gandalf will turn you into a spotted toad and fill the garden full of grass snakes." Sam fell on his knees, trembling. "Get up, Sam!" Said Gandalf. "I have thought of something better than that. Something to keep you quiet, and punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!" "Me, sir!" cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk. "Me go and see Elves and all! Hooray!" he shouted, and then burst into tears.

Keegan felt nervous as Rourk walked toward her. What should she say? In an instant, he stood in front of her. She felt his fingers trace the side of her face. She looked up into his grey eyes as he leaned down and kissed her.Keegan had kissed boys before, but she__ never felt anything like this.

But the sons of Men die indeed, and leave the world; wherefore they are called the Guests or the Strangers. Death is their fate, the gift of Illúvatar, which as time wears even the Powers shall envy.

So, what__ the issue with Unicorns?___magine a cat,_ Rose said. __ot just a cat, but a cat that is such a cat, other cats come to it for cat lessons. Take a thousand cats, refine them down to a single drop of pure essence of cat, and make a whole cat out of the stuff.__ shivered. __www. And that__ a Unicorn?___o,_ she said. __hat__ an Elf. A Unicorn is a thousand times worse. An Elf you can reason with.

They were a deep emerald green, the exact same color as mine, and they glowed with an intensity I had never witnessed before. A slash of silver crossed each one, the sun's reflection making them sparkle like dancing crystals. The emerald irises appeared to be swirling in circles, creating the illusion that his eyes were never-ending. Flecks of darker emerald clustered around each pupil made my breath catch in my throat. Suddenly, my disheartened mood vanished, almost as if I had never felt sadness before. Something about these eyes held me in place, as if I had found a balance, blanketing me in a cocoon of comfort, free of worries and concerns.

Elves don't shimmer

8. Santa Claus is concerned about the problem of Arctic ice. The ice is the spouse of the elves, and she is sick. She is the primary source of their magic, as the elves cannot be separated from the place where they live. For many years now, this is all they have asked for for Christmas: that the ice should come back

Would people please stop telling me Santa Claus doesn't exist? I met him when I was a kid, surrounded by teenaged elves n stuff, one of them had a camera, and he was fun and smelt of fags n beer, I remember his big red nose too, even the hairs in his nostrils. You see I met him, sat on his lap chatted and he gave me a toy car, n yeah it was in a market, but I know he was the real Santa........

Ooh!_ Willy pipes up. __aybe he'll write a story about Santa and Mrs. Claus getting caught with their pants down with other people. If we get lucky, maybe he'll kill-___on't finish that sentence, elf.___andy, you're such a spoilsport. You can't say you haven't conjured up that scenario in your big head a time or a dozen. Continue. Maybe I'll write that story.___o, you won't. Your idea of a good story is nothing but sex, sex, and more sex. You'd never make it through writing a chapter because you'd have to stop and jerk off a half dozen times.___w! Not about Santa and Mrs. Claus. Yuck,_ Willy comes back at him with a sour look on his face. __hat's not even funny, Randy.