Hello there my fellow fans! Hee Hee!
I hope you enjoy my new story! It has plenty of Legolas acti-
NOT. MUCH. TIME
-on within! My OC, Lizzie, is based off-
SEND. HELP. TRAPPED.
-a friend of mine! Her name isn't really-
MARY. SUES. EVIL.
-Lizzie, but she would kill me if I tried to use her real-
TRYING. TO GET. CONTROL.
-name! Tee hee!-
THERE! I've got it! Look, there's not much time. My name is Lizzie, and I'm trapped in one of those terrible-
-Without further ado, onto the story!-
I've replaced her story with the real story. My story.
Death is a funny thing. One minute you're there, the next, you're not. There are many ways to die. All of which bring trepidation. If you die naturally, you're nervous about what's to come. If you die by accident, you're scared about the pain. If you die on purpose, you're afraid about what your loved ones would think.
I was an accident. Not how I was born, stupid. But how I died.
I was walking home late from school, after I had detention. No, it wasn't my fault. I wasn't the 'bad girl' of the school. I hadn't started a fight to protect the honour of my best friend, or something like that. I just forgot my PE uniform. Several times.
Anyway, late walking home. I was just a street away from the train station, when I heard screeching tyres. I was hit by a drunk driver in a pink car. Not just any pink cars. This one had flowers on it. I was killed by a pink flower-infested car.
I died in the most unimaginative way. Not surprising, considering who controls this story. I didn't die protecting anyone. I wasn't fighting for life in the intensive care ward. I wasn't even sixteen yet. But I died a sucky death.
And that was when I woke up.
I wasn't reborn. I'm not that epic. I just woke up, on a particularly wet piece of ground. Looking around me, all I could see were lush autumn trees, dressed to the nines with beautiful shades of reds, yellows, and oranges.
I tried to stand, but immediately fell to the ground with a yelp of pain, with my skirts pooling around me. There was a dull throb coming from my knee. I groaned, and checked for the brace that was always on. Said brace was missing.
Wait, let me back-track a few sentences. '…my skirts pooling around me'. That made no sense. I checked my skirt. It was a -beautiful light green, stitched with blacks and gold, reaching the ground. The hem was trimmed with golden lace, matching her beautiful flowing hair. The dress could not reach her level of beauty, though- stupid colour of light green. The only good green is dark green. This was the colour of guacamole with too much sour cream. And it went to the ground. I would trip over that. Either way, last time I checked, I was wearing my school uniform. A stupid blue-checked, knee length dress. Not the guacamole dress I was wearing.
I did check over of my situation. Alone, in a slightly wet forest, that was obviously autumn –even though last I checked, it was summer-, alone, without my knee-brace, in a stupid dress. And I was alive. Stupid car.
There was only one thing left to do. Cry.
So I did. I cried, and cried. Let it be said now, I was a very emotional person. I cried over stupid things. Though I wasn't too bad. Failed test, cry. Girls being mean, go home then cry. Scratched knee, cry. I cried a lot, like I did now. Numerous tears went onto the stupid stupid dress; my eyes were surely red and puffed by now. I was sitting there, nearing the curl-up-and-hug-your-knees stage of crying, when I heard gentle thumping in the distance. I briefly paused my self-wallowing to raise my head. The hell was that noise? As it neared, the noise cleared out in to the constant tapping of hooves.
I turned towards the direction I could tell the horse was coming from, just in time for a beautiful white stallion burst into view from behind a tree. Atop the horse was a man unlike I had seen before. Beautiful golden hair, chiselled cheek bones, pointed ears -beauty belonging to the gods alone. Matched only by the heroine of this story-. The man slowed the horse down, stopping in the centre of the clearing. He dismounted his horse, and began walking towards me.
Wait. Pointer ears? I stared at those ears, gaping like a fish. Sweet dear god. There was two options. One: There's a cosplay competition, and no one told me. Or two: I was in some magical place where elves were real. Or I was delusional, but I'm ignoring that for now. Sadly though, I was leaning more toward the second. The man- elf, I now realised- moved with otherworldly grace.
I took in the elf's attire. He was garbed in full green, with the exception of his tights. TIGHTS! I was internally laughing at the poor, misguided soul.
He looked strangely familiar though, slightly like a certain movie character.
The elf had reached a metre or so away from me, when he stopped and crouched down to my crouched-down level. I looked up at him with fear, apparently obvious in my eyes. I knew this was obvious according to the man's opening introductory sentence.
"Do not be afraid, I will not hurt you. Tell me why a fair maiden such as yourself is all alone in the woods such a distance from Rivendell?"
Rivendell. Yeah, I would like to say I was all graceful and manner-ful and whatever other -ful you can think of. But, no.
"I-I-I-I-I-" That was the extent of my conversational abilities. I hated people- or elves, equal rights here- I didn't know.
"What is your name? Prettyboy asked me. I refused to acknowledge who I think he is.
Something changed then, something within me changed. A sort of power possessed me, forcing out words that were not my own.
"My name, My Lord, is Elizabeth, daughter of Modnar, and heir to the throne of The Land of America." What. The Hell. I wasn't even American! My Mum's name wasn't freaking Modnar, it was Jane!
Unbeknownst to me, due to my mental rant, I had stood up, and moved into a perfect curtsy. Prettyboy, upon hearing I was apparently royal, stood up straighter.
"I am most humbled to make your acquaintance, Lady Elizabeth. My name is Legolas Greenleaf, Heir to the Throne Of Mirkwood."
No. No NonononononoNO! His last name wasn't Greenleaf! Elves don't even have last names! I felt like, screaming, crying, and throwing a tantrum. I mean, he got his own name wrong! And used a non-elf greeting.
I tried to move, to run away, because I did not want any of this crap, but I was trapped within my own body. Yet again, I began spewing words that I had no control over.
"As for my purpose, I was riding to Rivendell to partake in a meeting concerning a most evil matter. But, before I could arrive, I was attacked by a band of orcs. My horse ran off, and I had given up hope just as you had arrived."
Prettyboy (not Legolas, damn fairy couldn't get his name right), being the gentleman (gentleelf? gentleperson?) he is, looked acceptably sad? disappointed? from hearing my tale of woe.
"For one such as yourself to have endured so much... May I offer you my horse, so that we may ride to Rivendell together?"
Let me get something straight. He may be an elf (something I wasn't a fan of) and have amnesia about how to elf and remember his name simultaneously, but he was hot. Not throw-myself-at-you-screaming-about-making-babies hot, but I wasn't going to say he was plain.
And the idea of riding with Prettyboy (not Legolas) with me pressed up against him... Well it was enough to make a 14-year-old girls faint.
So I did.
-
Tee Hee! I hope you liked my story!
There's obvious attraction between Lizzie and Legolas, don't you think?-
It was terrifying, if I didn't convey it clearly enough. Being forced to say such things. Ugh.
-My next chapter of 'LOVE AND BABIES WITH AN ELF-Thank me for changing the title- WHO'S TOTES HOT' should be out next week!
Love ya babes!
3 PrettyGirly14-
send help ASAP-