Author's Note: I would like to say that this story will definitely not be a Legomance. He's had enough abuse. I don't need to add to it. Nor will there be any romances between other characters with my OC, who are fated to be with other canon women such as Eomer and Lothiriel or Aragorn and Arwen. Don't wanna break them up if you understand me. Besides that contrary to what many believe, Legolas is not the hottest elf around. I'm quite partial to Maedhros myself though. Him and his sexy one-handed self. And who knows this may become a steamy dwarf romance in the future. Not enough sexy bearded love out there (except for those really slashy fics). Po', po' Gimli! ;D There may be a moderately good looking guy under all that...fuzz.
Chapter 1: Korea
I absentmindedly brushed an errant strand of dark hair away from my face as I continued to sort through the sesame seed leaves stacking them neatly together into the earthenware glazed clay pots later to be smothered in a pungent soy sauce for fermentation. Continuing my monotonous duty, I was dimly aware of my younger cousins running around playing a game of tag, a faint feeling of envy rising in my heart. Must be nice not having any responsibilities, I sighed. The sun loomed directly overhead by the time I was finished, sealing the pots off with a heavy lid. With a sigh I stood up stretching languidly before sliding the doors open, heading inside the traditional Korean structure while calling for my grandmother, whom I found in the kitchen. She was mixing a batch of kimchi placing some in similarly made earthenware clay pots I was using earlier. Taking her attention away from her task momentarily to focus on me, she inquired whether I was finished or not and if I were to go collect some gosari, gesturing to a basket in the corner. I gave her a dutiful, slightly forced smile grabbing the basket and telling her I would be back soon. Leaving the kitchen, basket clasped firmly in my hands I slid the door shut behind me, quickly pulling on a pair of old boots and I began my journey up into the mountains, where the farming village was nestled at the base of.
It wasn't exactly the summer vacation I had planned in my head upon visiting Korea. I thought I would wander the cities, buying into the latest fashions, eat some of the local food, maybe fool around a bang or two, but I found myself in the middle of the countryside attending a family reunion and helping my aging grandparents with their backbreaking work. Every morning at the crack of dawn I would be awoken by the shrill crow of the rooster signaling the start of the day. I would collect the freshly laid eggs available, sometimes receiving a nasty peck or two before proceeding to milk the cows, who were annoyingly stubborn creatures. That was usually followed by feeding the pigs their slop, which basically consisted of a mixture of old rice and table scraps and I'd finish out the day with whatever other chore that would be randomly assigned to me.
Sometimes I would be out in the field picking kochu, other times hiking up the mountain led by my grandmother in search of some medicinal herb. My elder cousins, would contribute to the load of farm work by cutting fire wood and slaughtering our evening meals. I participated in the slaughter of a chicken to my horror on the second day of having arrived alone three heavy suitcases laden with clothes and other miscellaneous, useless accessories in all my spoiled, Americanized glory. I nearly passed out from shock that day as I watched my cousin snap the bird's neck, ripping the head off, the body flailing spastically. He handed it off to me telling me to pluck it, which I did reluctantly, my gut roiling in nausea. My grandmother then proceeded to teach me what was edible in the chicken and what to get rid of. She tossed all the items, that I would never eat, into a silver bowl hearts, kidneys, liver, and gizzard telling me they would be prepared later in a stew. I refused to eat that night opting for my unhealthy junk food I had brought in one of my bags. Eventually after weeks spent at the farm, I would become desensitized to the point where I could gut an animal without thinking twice about it or feeling the slightest bit of nausea, not that I was proud of that.
I followed the winding river upstream, where a slightly overgrown trail followed along the route. Paddy fields and other multifarious crops were stretched out on either side of the fast flowing water. Stray peach trees lined the shore, which I took advantage of taking a few and letting the icy cold water wash over them before storing them in my basket next to a pair of worker gloves and a pair of shears that I would use to snip the stalks of my quarry. The sun beat down on my head, the bandana providing meager protection from the harsh rays. Sweat ran rivulets down my back causing my tube top to cling uncomfortably to my damp skin. Periodically I would pick at the cloth allowing air circulation.
Gnats hovered around me and I desperately wished for some bug repellant cursing myself all the while for leaving it in the bowels of one of my many bags. Hitching up the basket a little higher, I quickened my pace wanting to get my task over as soon as humanly possible. An hour or so passed before I found myself on the mountain walking along the trail through some dense forest. Deciding that I was finally under the ideal growing conditions of the plant that I sought, I left the trail. Sprawling flora brushed against my legs and I was glad that I had enough sense to wear some long pants as a thorn vine snagged on the coarse fabric. Gingerly plucking the vine loose I stepped over it and I found myself in an open glade where lo and behold a batch of gosari was growing in the center.
Slipping on my gloves, I grabbed the shears and began to snip away at the stalks piling the plants into my basket as I did so. I continued on unaware of the darkening overcast sky, thunder clapped in the distance which I studiously ignored. Only when freezing droplets of rain began to fall striking my bare skin did I stop. Remembering a stern warning my grandmother had given me about the danger of the ever changing weather in the mountains the last time I was up here with her, I found my way back to the trail. I could dimly remember that an old shrine lied not too much further ahead where I could find shelter from the rain. I walked carefully up the trail, the rain steadily growing in intensity. The dirt became slick causing me to slip a few times scraping my knee against a sharp rock on a particularly nasty fall. I shook off the pain and continued on. I used the closely packed thin trunk trees as a guide rail traveling through the muck when the shrine finally came into view.
With a sigh of relief, I clambered my way over to the aged building slipping under the roof. To my surprise several candles were lit as were incense, wisps of silvery smoke hanging in the air. A Buddha statue sat as the centerpiece in the room, his face contorted with a wide jovial smile. I sat in front of his plump frame gazing out at the rain. The rain didn't let up until well into the night. Feeling a few pangs of hunger, I bit into the soft flesh of one of the peaches that I had plucked earlier. Enjoying the sweet treat, I took another bite when a little worm came wiggling out from a hole in the side. I dropped the peach instantly startled by the intruder when a memory came unbidden of my mother. I could remember her telling me that eating many peach worms would make your face more beautiful. It was a humorous old wives tale, but I found myself looking at the worm with a newfound curiousity that began to crawl along the floor making a hasty escape. I sent a glance over to Buddha and asked, "Should I?" It almost seemed as if his stony grin broadened. I shot my eyes back at the worm and ignoring the protest that began to uproar on the more cynical side of mind, I plopped the wriggling creature into my mouth. A gush of slime spurted as I bit down on the hapless worm before I gulped it down hastily feeling my face twisting in disgust. Appetite sufficiently ruined, I grabbed another this time worm-less peach and placed it next to Buddha as an offering. Big guy like him must be hungry, I mused.
The rain finally having abated I took a step outside. An orchestra of insects greeted my ears, a cicada whizzing past my eyes. The moon and stars were fully visible in the night sky. It was remarkable just how clear and bright they were away from the constant lighting from the more heavily populated areas. I could point out every single constellation that I was aware of tracing them lightly with my finger. It was beautiful, one of the only plusses of living away from civilization. Deciding that I was going to hazard going down the mountain in the presently dark and damp conditions, not wishing to stay alone on a mountain overnight, I grabbed my basket tossing a salute to the Buddha statue as I left. It probably wasn't the smartest move on my part, but I found it overly spooky to be alone.
Finding my trail, I made my way down traveling at a snail's pace as I took carefully placed steps on the wet earth. A jingle greeted my ears. I paused in mid step straining my senses for a moment. I dismissed the noise thinking my mind was simply playing tricks on me. Another jingle this time louder than the original. Bells. I froze, my eyes darting around frantically to pinpoint where the source of the sound was coming from all the Korean ghost stories flaring to life in the forefront of my mind. I detected a grayish-white blur out of the corner of my eyes flash behind a grove of trees. Swallowing nervously, I cleared my throat and called out in my rather poor Korean, "Annyeonghaseyo?" The surrounding vegetation rustled, droplets of water were shaken loose. The silvery silhouette of a figure stepped out from the brush.
The hair on my neck rose when a pair of glowing amber eyes met my own. Gooseflesh prickled my skin as the air grew chill, a stream of my breath became visible in the night air. The figure began to approach, gliding towards me the jingling growing louder by the second. My heart began to thunder within my chest, an unnatural unexplainable fear gripping my entire body. I felt frozen in place, wanting to move but finding myself unable to. My eyes widened in horror when the figure veiled beneath the darkness stepped into the moonlight extending a long, pale gray arm towards me. The face of a woman was revealed. A gruesome slash split her face from ear to ear, hair hanging limply, eyes bloodshot…her face opened up in horrific yawn. Paralyzed with fear, I struggled to breathe as her face drifted only an inch away from my own when suddenly the earth I was standing on gave out from under me.
I fell backward striking my head against the tree behind me. Despite the painful collision to my skull and the pounding afterwards, it felt as if a great weight was violently arrested from my body. Thinking became clear, feeling returned to my limbs, the spell that I had fallen under was lifted. Opening my eyes blearily and taking no chances I refused to meet the woman's gaze immediately propelling myself to my feet only to run down the trail at breakneck speeds, an unearthly shriek shattering the silence behind me. For a split second, I turned my head to look back to see if the ghostly woman was pursuing me. I discovered that the strange woman stood far up the trail from where I had my encounter halted in her place by a gleaming white animal...a fox? I wasn't given much time to think about it as my foot slipped on a particularly slick piece of greenery. I went tumbling head over heels down the mountain side. It seemed as if I struck every single stone and tree on the descent down. My head slammed into a rock, little white sparks exploded across the inside of my lids. When I finally came to a jarring stop body prone upon the damp cold ground, I was dancing back and forth in-between the realm of unconsciousness. I was dimly aware of a figure running towards me, my eyes were blurry and I was unable to focus in on their face clearly. Fearing it was the woman with one last push of strength in self defense, I sent my fist flying. With a satisfying echoing thump, I lost my last grips of consciousness falling into the sweet dark oblivion.
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