"Haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, but I'm just gonna shake, shake, sha— AGHHHH!"
The crowd gasped as Taylor Swift tripped on her stilettos, fell from stage and then seemingly vanished. The lip synced background track continued for a few seconds before the sound guys evidently realized that their star had disappeared.
And disappeared she truly had.
Taylor fell and kept falling for what seemed like a lifetime, before landing in— a forest? She couldn't see much before hitting the ground with a sharp impact, her world going black.
She was awakened by something sharp poking against her neck.
Eyes shooting open, she stared at her assailant, who was holding— an arrow to her neck!
"AGHHHHHHH!" Taylor screamed.
A beautiful blonde hippie man looked down at her coldly. "Why are you trespassing in these lands, prostitute woman, and from whence do you come?"
Taylor's fear was forgotten by anger. "What!? I'm no hooker, I'm Taylor Swift! Have you not heard of me?" She covered her scantily clad body and red sparkly leotard with her hands.
"Tailor… Swift?" Repeated Legolas doubtfully.
"Yes! And I come from America, have you at least heard of that, you strange forest hippie?!"
"To speak to me with such a lack of deference in my own father's halls is either a sign of total madness, or… a truly extraordinary level of confidence in your craft." Legolas peered at her searchingly. "Come. We may make use of you yet."
Legolas then proceeded to flit through the trees at an unnervingly rapid pace, and Taylor could do nothing but chase after him, tossing her heels behind her as she ran and panting as sweat ran streaks through the vestiges of her makeup.
When Legolas seemed to float supernaturally over a large tree trunk, it was too much for Taylor, who, although tall, lacked the ability to fly over obstacles. Stopping, she grabbed the trunk and attempted to hoist herself over and around it. Legolas had almost disappeared from her sight when, clutching the trunk with all four limbs, she let out an unearthly scream.
Legolas reluctantly turned around. "What is it now, Tailor?"
Falling to the ground, but having conquered the trunk, Taylor lifted her hand, her whole arm shaking. "My nail!"
Sure enough, one of T Swizzle's acrylic nails had popped clean off during the arduous journey that was scaling the tree.
Legolas observed her nail with a queer look. "How strange that your whole nail would fall out at once. I do not pretend to know much of the health of humans, but seemingly you must have been infected from underneath to warrant the entirety falling off." He continued gliding through the trees, though at a mercifully slower pace this time.
Taylor stared at him, aghast. "I'm not infected with anything, weirdo! Have you, like, never seen a fake nail before? I mean, I guess not, living in a forest… But— hey, what do you mean, humans? Who refers to their own species in the third person?!"
Legolas spared her a quick glance and what appeared to be almost… a smile?
"You truly speak oddly, tailor woman. Your manner of dialogue is unparalleled in its eccentricity."
"Are you actually kidding me? Now you're insulting my speech? Are you even capable of holding a normal conversation?!" Taylor growled.
Legolas's expression smoothed into a frown. "No, I certainly am not kitting with you, nor do I wish to. And you are the strange conversant. Kitting? But to answer your query, I am clearly a woodland elf."
At that, Taylor felt an intense need to scream in frustration at the evidently mentally afflicted man. She had no idea where she was or who she was with, and her nails were completely unsalvageable. Maybe, this was a coma? A strange dream? She remembered falling from stage- perhaps she was in a hospital room right now, and this was all a silly illusion.
"Yes, that's it, wake up, Taylor! Wake up!" Her breathing quickened and she began to shake while walking.
The "elf" gave her a very wary look, as if it had just dawned on him that there might be something wrong with her besides her apparent choice of profession. "Stop that. What are you doing."
She was about to collapse of hyperventilation, when in that moment she remembered the words of her Pilates instructor, Ayden. "Breathe deeply, in and out. Focus only on the destination. You're almost there! Yes! You are strong! Work it!"
She stopped walking and began to mimic her exercises, closing her eyes and flexing out her arm muscles. "It's ok, Taylor, focus on the destination, breathe! You're almost there! Work it, girl!"
At the moment she realized despairingly that Ayden's magic words were not enough, and, worse, seemed to not even make sense in the situation, Legolas also seemed to have had enough with her.
"You are clearly mad, Tailor. I will bring you to my father now."
And with that she was knocked out. Her last thought was "Ugh, not again!"
—
She awoke slowly and groggily to two voices.
A cold, clear voice was speaking. "A mad human prostitute trespassing on our lands? Let us just kill her and be done with it."
"Come now father, hear me through. She claims to be a famed tailor in her realm of America, so famed they have dubbed her Tailor Swift. If she is mad, let her be sent to the dungeons, but before condemning her let us give her a chance to prove her abilities. If she is as swift as she claims, she would be an asset making tunics for the guard, as spider's blood stains quick and is difficult to soak out. Notice that her garb, although strange and indecent, is of a high quality with rare fabric and small stitches. Let us give her a chance."
Thranduil, seeing his son's apparent investment in her fate (and not caring either way) said, "fine, do as you will with her. But if she proves to be mad, please put her down. We are not a hotel for strays."
Taylor, having had enough, chose this moment to speak up. "Do you dudes have some sort of phobia against mental illness? Cause that's seriously not cool. Also, I'm American! You can't put me in a dungeon, take me to the embassy!"
Thranduil arched his eyebrow, and one corner of his mouth went up. "She's your problem now, son." The kingly figure glided out leaving Legolas and Taylor alone in what seemed to be a small but fancy looking bedroom.
Legolas opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it. He exited the room, returning with a needle and a thread and some strips of fabric. "Come now, make the finest tunic you can, and prove your words true. If not, you will be considered a liar, and mad to boot, and sent to our dungeons."
With that, he left the room for good, leaving Taylor feeling more alone than she'd felt since her break up with John Mayer.