Prologue

Author's note: As of writing this, this is the first of it's kind. I don't expect to get many visitors, but the ones that do, please, please, PLEASE review.

Standard disclaimer for all chapters from now until forever: I own no characters except for my OCs (and even my main "OC" has been sort of invented by one of these sources). Nintendo owns all Super Smash Brothers characters and J.R.R Tolkien owns all Lord of the Rings characters.

"AIEEEE!" came a voice that was surely loud enough to wake the entire Shire.

Standing in the room of her daughter, Rosie was hysterical to find that her daughter had once again snuck out before dawn. She obviously didn't care if she was discovered to be missing. Her door was clearly open, displaying the also wide open window. The candle had burned farther down than Rosie estimated that it should be. But most of all, there had been no attempt to make the bed up so as to make people think she was still there. The girl had even left a cheerful note on her pillow that said Dear Mama, I am out for a little early-morning blatant violation of all of your rules that have been made so that I could preserve my self image a little. Yes, I'm climbing trees, and I might even be swimming. I am sorry for the inconvenient hour, but this is the only time that I can be strange and not be labelled so. I do not care that I do this at least twice a week, but I believe that the standard disclaimer is in order: I will be coming back, most likely without injury, at dawn. If I'm not back, I am either dead or something has befallen me. Send Dad out to get my corpse, then! Hugs and kisses, it is obvious who is writing this so I refuse to sign my name. After all, who could I be? The Last Ring-Bearer?

"SAAAAAMMMMMM!" Rosie shrieked when reading the note. Her husband appeared, looking extremely tired and confused when he entered.

"What? Is it the little troublemaker again?" he asked in a sleepy voice.

"Seventeen is hardly little, Sam," she replied primly.

"So she's out again," he said, now waking up a little more.

"The nerve of her!" Rosie was getting worked up. "Why couldn't she be more like Eleanor or something?"

"Nah. She's a free spirit," Sam smiled affectionately at the thought of his tomboyish second-oldest child.

"But she's swimming!" Rosie cried.

"I'll go get her," Sam sighed and returned to his room to get a lantern.

How much fun swimming was!

So was climbing trees.

That's how Verna saw it, at least.

Then again, she was an extremely unusual hobbit. For one, she loved video games. For another, she enjoyed wrestling her "uncles" Peregrine and Meriadoc (they were really of no relation, but they treated her like their niece). For yet another, she adored adventure. She also loved to read, sing, draw, and other things. But above all, she loved stories, particularly that of the One Ring. It had been destroyed about three years before her birth, and she often thought about the ring bearers. Sauron didn't sound very nice. Isildur was the same. Gollum was just beyond creepy. She didn't know what to think about Bilbo because he stole it. Then again, he stole it from Gollum.

Then there was the last Ring Bearer. She wondered what he'd been like. Not many hobbits knew about him.

"Verna!" she could hear her father's voice. She swore to herself and pulled her clothing back on. She'd been swimming, thinking again about the One Ring. Very few people at the Shire knew about it, so she'd heard it from her father's dwarvish friend's son, Aragorn II. When she'd asked her dad about it, he'd gotten a sad, thoughtful expression on his face and hadn't answered her. Rosie had told her later that her father had lost a close friend in the fight against the One Ring. After learning that, Verna hadn't mentioned it.

"Verna, your mother's worried," her father tried to scold her, but didn't have the heart to truly do it. Verna sighed and fell into line behind him.

"Will you take me flower-picking later?" she asked.

"Okay, fine," he replied. "And you can visit... what's her name?"

"Zelda," Verna replied. Her best friend, Zelda, and her family lived in a huge house about twenty miles away. Verna loved visiting them.

Besides, Zelda made great daisy chains.

Little did Verna know that Zelda was in no mood to make daisy chains.

As a matter of fact, in Smash Mansion, Zelda was in an extremely terrible, fierce mood. Not even Link, her best friend, could calm her.

See, Link's little brother, Toon Link, had just finished watching the Return of the King. He had cried so hard at the end that he had filled the popcorn bowl with extremely salty tears.

"I can't believe what happened!" he had sobbed. Ness, Lucas, and the Ice Climbers had happened to be passing by.

"What?" Lucas had asked.

"I finished Return of the King," he sobbed. "And Frodo dies!"

"WHAT? TRAITOR!" Lucas screamed at PoPo. "YOU TOLD ME THAT HE LIVED!" With that, he began crying as well.

"He does," Nana had said. "He just goes off with the elves to the undying lands."

"I count that as dying," Toon Link cried.

"I don't," PoPo replied.

"It wasn't fair!" Lucas continued howling. "He was a hero!"

"Nah. Sam was the hero," Ness replied solidly.

"No he wasn't!" Nana shouted.

"Well, the point is that my favorite character is dead," Toon Link sobbed.

"Mine, too!" Lucas sobbed.

"You told me your favorite was Arwen!" Ness was stunned.

"I used to have a crush on her," Lucas replied. "But she ended up with Aragorn, I think."

"How did you know?"

"I saw the part where she and Aragorn kiss," he replied.

"Poor Eowyn!" it was unclear who had said that.

"Poor Frodo!" mumbled Toon Link.

"How can you say that? He got to go with the elves. And if they're anything like Zelda, who's hot by the way-" PoPo was abruptly cut off by a fist. It was Toon Link.

Needless to say, it was pretty nasty. And Zelda had had to clean up and listen to Toon Link's endless sobs of "he didn't deserve that!" while she tried dragging each of them to solitary confinement. And what had made it worse was that she had a throbbing blister on her heel, her hair wouldn't lie down straight, and she had to write her elvish cousin a letter because it was his birthday. Her mother made her, despite the fact that the passing of time was irrelevant for elves, and besides, Zelda kept forgetting her cousin's name. Bob or Miles or something. She was pretty sure it was Bob. Oh well. In her letter, she'd just written it addressed to Bob, prince of Mirkwood. With hope he'd know who it was for. How many princes of Mirkwood were there?

There were, unfortunately, a lot. She didn't know that. Even more unfortunately, the one she was writing to was named Legolas, not Bob or Miles.

Legolas sighed and put down his letter.

For the last time, his name was NOT BOB! When would anyone get it straight?