Here goes, I'm not sure I did justice to the awesome, but...
“What is that?” asked Pumba, peeking through a giant fern. A figure was walking the cracked savannah that bordered their jungle home. The figure was bent over and moved on two legs, like an ostrich, and appeared to be covered in long, white feathers.
“Eh?” said Timon, scratching his ear. He looked up. “Hey!” he said. “What’s that!”
“What’s what guys?” asked Simba, moseying up.
“That,” said Pumba, nodding towards the figure.
“It appears to be some sort of giant bird,” said Timon.
“I thought it might be a kind of up-right primate,” said Pumba.
“Primate, shim-mate, Pumba, my dear fellow, that is not a monkey.”
“Is.”
“Isn’t.”
“Is!”
“Isn’t!”
“Ostrich!”
“Monkey!”
“Ostrich!”
“Isn’t!”
In their arguing they failed to notice Simba sneaking past them to investigate. Instead they got into a scuffle. Looking over Pumba’s ears, which he was attempting to tie into a knot, Timon finally realised that their friend had left them, and was stalking towards the mysterious figure.
“Where’s he think he’s going?” Timon asked.
Simba reached the shambling figure and circled it, sniffing curiously. It had an odd scent.
“Halt!” the figure said suddenly, and Simba froze in place, much to the horror of his friends.
The figure straightened, and pulled back the shawl which had been covering her head, revealing her face. Two eyes, a beak-like nose, a thin-line mouth, and skin as pale white as her cowl.
“Cripes!” said Timon. “It’s a human! We’ve got to rescue him!”
“What’s a human?” ask Pumba.
“Worse than a lion,” Timon said, jumping up and down in frustration.
The ‘human’ let out a low laugh, like the wind picking dust from a grave.
“Lion,” she said, for it was a she. “Name yourself.”
“Simba.”
“Simba,” she said, drawing the word out. “Do you know who I am Simba?”
“No.”
“I am Queen Jadis, once Empress of Narnia. Tell me lion, do you know Narnia?”
“No.”
“It would please me to kill you lion, but that would accomplish little. Tell me, are you the ruler of this land I find myself in.”
“I don’t rule anything,” said Simba, hanging his head. “I’m no one.”
“Pity,” Jadis said. She contemplated her fingers for a moment. And then snapped her cold gaze to the greenery where Timon and Pumba were hiding.
“I see you,” she said softly. “I see you hiding. My gift has always been to see the hidden things, and the lies.” She turned her gaze back to Simba. “You are a coward,” she said.
Simba growled, deep in his throat. “Get out.”
“Oh, look at him roar, look at him defend his home. But this is not your real home, is it, lion?”
“Go away.”
“What if I were to offer you a second chance?” said Jadis. “Bring you back to the stamped.” She leaned down and whispered into his ear, “so that you never killed him.”
Simba shivered. “There are no second chances,” he growled.
“Quite true,” said Jadis, “Though my counterpart would think differently. Good day lion, enjoy your exile as I enjoy mine.”
Then she turned and walked away. Simba watched her disappear over the horizon. His friends gathered by his side.
“Good job,” said Pumba, “You really let her have it!”
“He really gave her what-for, didn’t you Simba? Simba?”
Simba didn’t respond. He turned and walked back into the jungle, alone.
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momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2009-05-18 10:25 pm (UTC)“What is that?” asked Pumba, peeking through a giant fern. A figure was walking the cracked savannah that bordered their jungle home. The figure was bent over and moved on two legs, like an ostrich, and appeared to be covered in long, white feathers.
“Eh?” said Timon, scratching his ear. He looked up. “Hey!” he said. “What’s that!”
“What’s what guys?” asked Simba, moseying up.
“That,” said Pumba, nodding towards the figure.
“It appears to be some sort of giant bird,” said Timon.
“I thought it might be a kind of up-right primate,” said Pumba.
“Primate, shim-mate, Pumba, my dear fellow, that is not a monkey.”
“Is.”
“Isn’t.”
“Is!”
“Isn’t!”
“Ostrich!”
“Monkey!”
“Ostrich!”
“Isn’t!”
In their arguing they failed to notice Simba sneaking past them to investigate. Instead they got into a scuffle. Looking over Pumba’s ears, which he was attempting to tie into a knot, Timon finally realised that their friend had left them, and was stalking towards the mysterious figure.
“Where’s he think he’s going?” Timon asked.
Simba reached the shambling figure and circled it, sniffing curiously. It had an odd scent.
“Halt!” the figure said suddenly, and Simba froze in place, much to the horror of his friends.
The figure straightened, and pulled back the shawl which had been covering her head, revealing her face. Two eyes, a beak-like nose, a thin-line mouth, and skin as pale white as her cowl.
“Cripes!” said Timon. “It’s a human! We’ve got to rescue him!”
“What’s a human?” ask Pumba.
“Worse than a lion,” Timon said, jumping up and down in frustration.
The ‘human’ let out a low laugh, like the wind picking dust from a grave.
“Lion,” she said, for it was a she. “Name yourself.”
“Simba.”
“Simba,” she said, drawing the word out. “Do you know who I am Simba?”
“No.”
“I am Queen Jadis, once Empress of Narnia. Tell me lion, do you know Narnia?”
“No.”
“It would please me to kill you lion, but that would accomplish little. Tell me, are you the ruler of this land I find myself in.”
“I don’t rule anything,” said Simba, hanging his head. “I’m no one.”
“Pity,” Jadis said. She contemplated her fingers for a moment. And then snapped her cold gaze to the greenery where Timon and Pumba were hiding.
“I see you,” she said softly. “I see you hiding. My gift has always been to see the hidden things, and the lies.” She turned her gaze back to Simba. “You are a coward,” she said.
Simba growled, deep in his throat. “Get out.”
“Oh, look at him roar, look at him defend his home. But this is not your real home, is it, lion?”
“Go away.”
“What if I were to offer you a second chance?” said Jadis. “Bring you back to the stamped.” She leaned down and whispered into his ear, “so that you never killed him.”
Simba shivered. “There are no second chances,” he growled.
“Quite true,” said Jadis, “Though my counterpart would think differently. Good day lion, enjoy your exile as I enjoy mine.”
Then she turned and walked away. Simba watched her disappear over the horizon. His friends gathered by his side.
“Good job,” said Pumba, “You really let her have it!”
“He really gave her what-for, didn’t you Simba? Simba?”
Simba didn’t respond. He turned and walked back into the jungle, alone.