Author Note: Hi everyone I want to write about something different in the Lotr Universe - the anti-hero. I want to explore a character that had been raised in a tough and often disheartening upbringing. At first it might be hard for viewers to identify with Victoire as the main character with the trauma she has made mention to and the fact that she is not a nice person, and at this stage has very little redeeming qualities (other than her dark humor). The idea is that this story will be a Legolas romance, but one which is slow and navigates the sheer disparity in Legolas and the main character's upbringings and worlds.

I have always found such complex characters interesting to read and this is going to be a mammoth but fun undertaking, which is where I need YOU awesome readers to give me feedback. I love hearing what you think about characters etc! This chapter has themes of violence and gore and mentions themes of a sexual nature.

Chapter One

From Small Beginnings

The light was blinding, blasting through any visible nook and window of the ramshackle building.

But more disorientating was the sound. It rent through the air, cutting it like butter, ripping apart the fragments of the earth.

I fell off the client who rolled from the bed with a roar of surprise, scrambling away from the window.

Still naked, I staggered to the window, shielding my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to see through the blindingly bright light. I desperately wanted to see what had caused something so unnatural. It felt like the land had been eviscerated.

One with such circumstances as my own did not do well to miss out on an opportunity, whatever it may be; even if it was just escaping what looked like the proverbial shit heap that had landed on the township of Weather Hill.

One did not survive long as a working girl without being able to read a situation or see a threat from a mile away. Scrambling to the stained blue sack of a dress scrunched on the floor I threw it on, shaking my breasts into place in the ill-fitting chest area. I pushed my feet into the too large boots I owned and slyly swiped the pouch of coins the portly customer had delicately and with much disdain placed on the dresser.

I don't know if he noticed, because I was out of the room and down the stairs into a throng of girls scrambling around in the confusion without a glance back.

Adelia was there, her green eyes finding mine. She inclined her head to the doorway and I nodded, meeting her there as the sound of my bellowing customer reached my ears.

"Fucking thief!" he cried, the sound covered up in the din, not likely having the effect he desired. I grabbed two black cloaks off the customer coat rack. With slight hesitation, the objects catching my eye at the last minute, I took the scabbard of a sword and a knife from the rack that customers had to place weapons in before accessing the services. With a last look behind me at the pudgy customer trying to scuttle naked down the stairs towards me I pushed through the front door. I gave him a grin and a salute before stepping forth.

Passing over the threshold into the street was like entering a different land, one not unlike the religious painting's depiction of hell. Horrible gut wrenching screams and crying rose from the debilitating smoke; I could make out the glow of flames against the night sky in the near distance. The nearest buildings were intact but after that the rest were wiped out, only wood and debris visible from rubble and steaming soil. Adelia went to run in the opposite direction from the madness, but I grabbed her elbow.

"I have to see," I told her.

"Are you crazy Victoire?" she breathed, the fear in her eyes offset by the golden glare of the nearby flames.

"Not crazy just opportunistic," I grinned trying to soothe her concerns, "I'll meet you at our tree, make sure you hide yourself up high and take this," I rushed, pressing the dagger, cloak and bag of money into her hands. She knew better than to waste time trying to argue with me. She pulled the cloak on and with the hood pushed low she slunk away into the darkness.

I pulled the second cloak on as I ran, awkwardly strapping the sword to my hip. The scabbard strap was too wide which made the sword hang too low on my hips and caused the scabbard to clatter against the movement of my legs.

On swift feet I moved towards the center of the mayhem. I noticed a dead body close to the crackling fire, the limbs and head at an awkward angle. I quickly bent down and emptied the dead man's belt of his coin pouch, shoving it in between my breasts.

I rushed past a screaming woman trying to avoid her searching eyes, her face bubbling and hair matted. The stench of burning flesh was thick and turgid in the air. I pushed my palm to my face as a gag involuntarily ripped up my throat.

Then I saw it, encased in a crater of flame and rubble where it had embedded several meters deep in the earth.

I had heard talks of objects like this. They were supposedly sent from the heavens and were a very rare occurrence. Some called them shooting stars.

I would later wonder if something fae had taken hold of my senses as to act so recklessly. I was never one to pass on an opportunity, but never one to take unmitigated risks. I jumped down the side of the crater, tumbling down the steep craggy decline, the surface scorching hot through my boots.

I rushed forward, avoiding the many spot fires. I reached the centre, the heat from the shiny granite like object ferocious. For all the destruction it had caused it was barely bigger than my skull. Taking off my cloak, which was thankfully made of thick winter wool, I wrapped it around the star fragment.

Trying to ignore the unexpected heat it gave off from behind the cloak I attempted to lift it. I stumbled forward with a cry at the sheer weight, my skinny arms unable to take the astonishing weight. It made me stumble forward, my knees pulling the cloak from the surface as I fell onto the star fragment.

I screamed, the noise escaping my clenched teeth, the sound similar to that of a dying animal. I had been burnt before but this feeling was more painful than flesh meeting something hot, it consumed me, reaching every part of me. As if it had been waiting for me to hold it – or perhaps because an object of the divine was desecrated by the touch of an unworthy mortal– the star fragment cracked open from underneath me with sound that split the air itself and which surely burst my eardrums. I could no longer hold myself up and slumped over its surface.

My head roared and I didn't know if it was my body being obliterated or if it came from the star fragment itself. With every part of my being I wanted to push myself away but I couldn't move. My body was so caught up in the torturing pain it would no longer listen to commands. It felt like I was shackled in purgatory.

Through the cracks of my closed eyes there was a bright white light, getting brighter and brighter until the lids of my eyes could no longer block it out. If I had been more aware I would have noticed the air crackling around me and the roaring reaching a horrible crescendo as the bowels of the star fragment lost its war with the atmosphere and crumbled into me.

Everything went black.

My senses came back suddenly; I could see the clear blue sky, the sudden shift in time confusing me for a moment.

I realised that I was not where I had been previously, but lying against other soft objects. I recoiled as I suddenly registered the horrible smell surrounding me.

Death. The smell of decomposing flesh had long ago been engrained into my memory.

I craned my sore neck and screamed. I was nestled amongst several dozen bodies, the smell and sight of charred flesh of the bodies making the vomit fly to my mouth. I sobbed as I pushed myself up, the horrible ache in my body making itself known as I scrambled on hands and knees across the slippery and bloodied flesh. I reached the edge of what could only be described as a mass grave and couldn't control my retching any longer. Over the years my life had not been all sunny days and rainbows but waking up in a ditch of dead bodies was a little more macabre than I was used to.

The vomit burned through my throat and mouth, only stomach acid and bright pink foam coming forth, splashing against the ground. I was often so hungry that my stomach felt like it was eating itself so the pink tinge of blood didn't seem like something that would be unusual. I hadn't eaten a sufficient amount of food in a long time. The working girls were fed a meagre amount more than the servants to keep us from being skeletons as the matron believed that clients did not like that sort of thing. I often gave my sister, a servant at the proud establishment, a large portion of my food rations.

My mind quickly jumped to my sister, my younger twin. I had to get to her; she would be worried, wondering why I had never come back for her. A horrible urgency filled me at the thought that she had been discovered or had moved on out of fear that I was dead.

My hands quickly went to my hip but both the sword and money was gone. With horror I realized that other than a few scraps of cloth still clinging on and blood and gore from the mass grave I was naked. It wasn't a good start to finding my sister, generally as a rule I felt more secure in clothing when making trips outside my bedroom. Heaving a steadying breath I looked around, noticing a landmark in the position of the trees that were surrounding me. I wasn't far from our meeting spot.

"Aye!" a man came out of nowhere, a shovel in hand. "Ye were dead! I just finished dragging yer body to the pit," his face looked positively ashen, fear lighting his face. "Ye must be a witch!" I watched the fearful malice take over his face as he came to what he thought must be the only rational answer.

"Oh for fucks sake," I couldn't believe what my night had deteriorated into, the feeling of 'what next' merging with a bone deep tiredness. Without further thought the man ran forward, the shovel raised.

It was in no way the first attempt made on my life, and taking what he said about my previous state of dead to not be true, no-one had succeeded yet. I charged him, ducking away from the shovel as he swung it up, obviously not expecting my offensive action. I felt the edge of it scrape my stomach as I passed behind him and kicked him bodily in the back with all my weight against one foot. He dropped the shovel but recovered from the push and turned around more quickly than I thought. Rather than making the time to collect the shovel he came at me with a fist. In that moment something strange happened as his fist connected with my face and the fear bubbled up in my stomach.

He screamed. It was a horrible keening sound as if I had split all his bones with my face. I didn't see what happened because my eyes had involuntarily closed, but as I opened my eyes after the impact of his fist, the skin of my check raging in pain, he was withering in pain on the ground, steam rising from his body as if he had been fried, before becoming still.

I bent down in shock feeling for a pulse at his neck. There was nothing… he was dead. But how?

Holding my hand against my nose at the renewed smell of burnt flesh. If I never had to smell that scent again it would be too soon. I realised the weird sensation happening at my stomach. My stomach streaked with fresh blood which flushed out new blood like a waterfall down my body. Though my skin was dirty and covered in blood it was easy to see the gaping mortal wound in my stomach would kill me where nothing else had. I nearly vomited at the sight of what could have been some organ, maybe my intestine rearing through the seam. The sight made me woozy. I couldn't even bring myself to put pressure on the wound; I couldn't bring myself to touch it at all. I took a deep shuddering breath in, the pain registering as my instincts to survive died down. It was more than a scrape which I had thought at the feel of the impact. I scrunched up my eyes, the frustration and horrible pain making a keening sound escape my mouth. I looked down again and a horrified sound escaped me in shock as I watched the skin start to do something odd. The blood stopped bubbling forth, and the deep red of the wound started t to knit together. What?

Suddenly the words he had spoken earlier to me sunk in. Dead, you were dead.

What had happened to me when I had touched the star fragment?

My thoughts turned to my sister again, my brain well attuned to the constant need to be her protector. Without a second thought I bolted towards the meeting spot, gripping my stomach, the pain of whatever it was doing, lancing through me as I ran.

It only took a few minutes to get to the tree, one of the largest in the old forest, gnarly with hidden burrows.

I briefly remembered us as little girls trying to climb to the highest branch.

"Adelia!" I called. For a moment there was no sound and my heart held in a vice.

"Victoire!" the broken relief in her voice was obvious, tears glistening in her green eyes as she descended the tree and gasped at the sight of me, horror in her eyes. She reached for my shoulder. I reared back, pulling away. She jumped slightly, looking at me as if she couldn't recognise me. "Adelia you mustn't touch me; it is not safe. Something happened…"

"What? What happened Victoire?" she asked, the distress of the night appearing to compound on her. "What on earth did you get yourself into? You look like the dead and smell worse than hell…" she said tremulously, her green eyes raking over me.

"I'll let you know soon; we need to get away…" I started to walk in the opposite direction of the town.

"Wait... Why?" She looked confused. "One minute I feared you were dead and was contemplating whether I should go back to the brothel and now we are leaving the town we grew up in?" she asked bewildered at my reasoning.

She did not know that the majority of the town most likely saw my body being dragged away from the crater in town and taken to the mass unmarked grave for all the peasants without family to give them a proper burial.

"I- I will tell you soon, but it is not safe here," I scrambled, wanting to grab a hold of her hand but fearing what could happen if I did. A part of me didn't want to tell her, to save her from the horror she would surely feel.

"Adelia, have you got the knife and money still?" I asked. She nodded and went to produce both, but I only took the knife from her. She passed me the cloak from her shoulders and I swept it around me, the huge size of it covering my nudity. "Adelia, we have to leave…" I forced the issue. She nodded reluctantly.

By mid-afternoon, I was parched and worn, the wound on my stomach was dark pink, a fragile easily reopened layer of skin but more healed than any human should be merely hours after such a cut. I had found a dam and had roughly scrubbed a lot of the dirt and blood off my skin. We stayed parallel to the road but out of easy sight in the tree line. We were taking a short rest when I heard the sound of hooves. Adelia hadn't spoken to me since earlier, even to ask me what had caused my decision to leave our hometown. Her face and the movement of her body had been filled with anger.

"Stay here Adelia and no matter what you hear unless it's me calling for you don't come out," I placed my fingers over my lips before I snuck closer to the road and dropped low into the brush.

In the distance I saw a horse and cart. The rider had a scratchy grey woolen cloak and tall pointed grey hat.

I waited for the cart to draw closer before staggering out onto the road, hunching over to look as weak and pitiful as I could.

"Please, I need your help," I whimpered, arm out stretched towards the slowly trundling cart, the other behind my back gripping the dagger.

The cart stopped and the hat was tilted up to reveal the face of an old man with a long white beard and bushy grey mottled eyebrows. His sparkling blue eyes looked welcoming and non-threatening. The kindness I saw in his eyes caused the plan sketched out in mind to change. I would question him for safe passage to Bree and see whether he would be agreeable rather than stabbing him and asking questions later.

Before I could voice the question he spoke. "I was in the area when a radiant light split across the sky. The shooting star was engulfed in flame, speeding towards the town of Weather Hills. I decided to head there to investigate but it seems that I have already stumbled upon the remnants of the star," he watched me knowingly.

What the old man said disarmed all thoughts in my mind. "What do you speak of?" I asked viciously. "What do you know?"

The old man watched me, not speaking. "You know what I speak of. You are scared and confused. Is that why you are running from Weather Hill?" he asked his omnipresent eyes staring into my own without reserve.

"What do you know of what the star fragment did to me?" I asked clearing through all the uncertainty in my mind and cutting to the chase.

"There is much I don't know but much I can discern. The next destination on my journey was to be the Shire if you and your companion would like to share my company," he said, lighting a pipe and taking a deep puff, watching my obvious discomfort with twinkling eyes and a small uplift of his thin lips.

I didn't bother to ask how he knew of my sister hidden in the shadows of the trees. The old man had shown that he had some sight or ability to glean information that wasn't freely given.

I couldn't discern any malice from him, but I hadn't survived up until now by freely trusting strangers. Despite his knowing nature he was still an old man and if he were to show a malicious side I should be able to overpower him. The old man had also made an insinuation that he may be able to shed some light on what the star fragment had done to me.

Giving the old man a weighing look I called my sister's name. A few moments later there was the sound of leaves crunching and my sister walked warily out from behind a tree.

"Identical in appearance but night and day in character," the old man mused, his voice light as he took another puff of his pipe, blowing out smoke in odd formations. I gave him a dark look, covertly holding the knife under the draping arm of the cloak I wore as I walked around the back to take a seat on his left side, allowing the other side for my sister.

My sister seemingly attempting to over compensate for my rude behavior smiled kindly at the old man.

"Thank you for offering to take us to the Shire. My name is Adelia and this is my sister Victoire," she said, taking the old man's hand out of politeness to step onto the cart.

"It is nice to make both your acquaintances, you can call me Gandalf the Grey," he said.

"I heard you talking to Victoire about a shooting star. Was that what happened in Weather Hill? Why did you speak as if she was the star?" my ardent sister started with the questions once the horse started moving and the cart jostled forward. The old man named Gandalf chuckled with merriment. I scowled from my position next to him. But I remained silent as I wished to know the answers to my sister's latter question.

"I believe that only Victoire can answer the first question of what happened in Weather Hill," Gandalf deflected.

Adelia looked at me expectantly.

"Do you expect me to answer that question in front of a complete stranger Adelia?" I asked dryly, crossing my arms across my chest. She huffed, defiance entering her gaze.

"Well you will tell me because you promised to back in Weather Hill and I haven't heard a word of an explanation since then," she said her gaze shrewd as she attempted to stare me down. "You have heard the stories of Gandalf. Gandalf is a wizard of the Istari, he is trustworthy," she said, fully placing her trust in a stranger.

"I have indeed heard some stories of Gandalf the Grey, but what says that this is truly Gandalf and not a perverted old man planning to take us into the woods to steal our virtues? Even if he is Gandalf, what says the stories are true? What says that he is trustworthy?" I questioned her, Gandalf sitting benignly in between us.

Adelia attempted at a scowl, but there was no malice in it. "Victoire you no longer have your virtue to be taken away and you think the worse of everyone until they prove otherwise, and even then you expect them to spin around and shove a knife in your back," she said heatedly.

"Adelia, are you saying that I'm a soiled dove?" I chimed, raising an eyebrow over narrowed eyes at her, baiting her and daring her to say more.

She huffed but backed down. "You are incorrigible Victoire."

Location: Weather Hill

"Get moving you filthy snaga!" the command was roared by Lagduf, a Uruk-hai of impressive height and girth. "I want that piece of star junk found!"

The lesser orcs ran haphazardly through the town, catching humans as they ran screaming and burning them out of their houses with glee.

"Round up the humans!" he yelled, spittle flying from his massive fanged maw.

Within the ransacked town square of Weather Hill, the citizens that managed to remain alive were eventually rounded up and guarded by the sizeable army of orcs, led by several bigger and more fearsome Uruk-hai.

"A fragment of star came to this cesspool. I found the hole it created but no star!" Lagduf growled as he walked amongst the humans. "The human who tells me where it is will not die."

The air of fear around the humans changed into desperation.

"I was hiding when I saw a burst of light so bright that it nearly blinded me from its resting place moments after it collided with the earth, but there was no star there come morning," an old man staggered forward, falling to his knees before Lagduf. Lagduf's lips curled in displeasure and with a swing of his fist, the old man was thrown away.

"My patience is wearing thin! There was the scent of gruiuk, a human female, in the hole!" he roared, his fist swinging into another unsuspecting human's head.

A middle aged woman cried out, "I saw something unnatural… we dragged a woman from the middle of the hole. She was dead. The undertaker took her to a mass grave in the woods. I was helping take another body when I saw her rise up out of the grave alive. He attempted to stop her and when his skin touched the skin of her face she killed him dead. The woman ran off but I know of her…"

"Flas undur kurv!" Lagduf spat viciously, the sound of black speech further subduing the crowd of fearful humans, as he strode towards the woman. He wrapped a bear like hand around her neck. Speak fat whore.

"Please promise to spare me and my family-" she shuddered in fear under the oppressive ferocity and harsh grip of the Uruk-hai leader.

"Speak," he sneered, bringing his face a hand span away from her own, staring down into her terrified eyes with his own glowing yellow ones.

"I know not which sister it was as they are twins! Their appearance is identical!" she sobbed, snot and tears bubbling over her face, sliding over the black leather skin of Lagduf's hand. "They both worked at the brothel Madam Hausefaur. One was a whore, her name is Victoire and the other was a servant there, her name is Adelia-" the woman scrabbled uselessly at the hand making her choke out her words.

"Show me the brothel," Lagduf ordered, releasing his hold on the woman's throat and shoving her forward. "Remain with the humans! Rauzeg and Margorg, come with me," Lagduf threw over his shoulder as he followed the woman as she scuttled down several streets, the group of lesser orcs moving away from her path like an ocean parting, volleying sneers and hateful jeers at her as she passed. Two massive Uruk-hai parted from their ranks and followed Lagduf.

The woman reached the two story weather board building quickly. Lagduf sneered at her. "Show me where they slept," he ordered, his voice barely legible through the thick Uruk accent as he hastened in his speech. Any remote hint of patience he might have had seemingly disappeared.

The woman shook her head, the whites of her eyes visible, her face grim and pale. "I know not where they slept-" she didn't get to finish her sentence, as Lagduf had already swiped her diminutive body into the wall of the brothel, her head cracking sharply with the wood. She dropped to the ground motionless.

Lagduf proceeded to storm into the brothel, sniffing the air deeply, his nostrils flaring as he scanned the empty first floor. His followed his nose upstairs to a room. The bed was empty, the stained once white sheets tousled. Lagduf scrunched his face up in disgust at the scent of human body fluids that permeated the entire establishment but which was thoroughly focused on the bed. Within the maelstrom of different scents, the scent of the human female was strongest.

Lagduf went to the rickety cupboard that lined the opposite wall and yanked the doors open. The world weary and stained dresses that hung there smelt strongly of the human female. He yanked the dresses off the wooden hangers and took several huge sniffs, memorising the scent. He shoved the pile of clothing at one of the Uruk-hai that stood in the door way.

"Thosishi Rauzeg," he snapped at the Uruk-hai who nodded swiftly and departed the room. Bag it, Rauzeg.

The scent needed to be preserved for the hunt.

Lagduf breathed rapidly in pleasure at coming closer to achieving his master's orders. The urge to commence the hunt for the gruiuk hazed his senses like the strongest bloodlust. It would be his greatest achievement for his master. Human female.

Lagduf walked out of the brothel meeting up with the rest of the orc hoard. For a moment Lagduf looked around at the scared humans, a horrible and deadly smirk rising on his face.

"Vras tul gith," he roared. The orc hoard roared in approval. Kill them all.

The screams and cries of horror and death echoed over Weather Hill hauntingly.