Hello, all! I just want to say something before we begin:
I don't believe in Mary Sues'-I think that is a term that is given to those who don't see the beauty in writing. Every character I make, I make for a reason and each has their own set of problems that can be unearthed and revealed, and I see all characters that way. So, no, before you ask, this is no Mary Sue story.
True, I will admit, the plot is unoriginal and overused. I am putting my own twists on it, however, and I'm sure many can enjoy a bit of it. If I bore you entirely, you are free to leave at any time, and there will be no hard feelings between us.
Also, this story will be a collaboration between the books and the movies, leaning heavily on the books.
Neither, however, is mine.
Chapter One:
Those Who Wander May Get Lost
"Although no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.-Carl Bard.
They would say the rain had caused it.
When they found her, they would claim it was a freak accident, and they would blame the rain.
They being the local paper, the News Crews, her family-they being those that saw and knew that Anastasia Black was no more and that she had fallen seven stories to hard, black cement that looked like wet blood.
They being those that gave half a damn.
Maybe the coroner would know. Maybe the man or woman that would examine her mangled, ruined corpse would know that it wasn't the rain.
It was the lightning.
Anna relished the storms in North Carolina. The violence. How quickly they came and gone. The way it sounded on the roof of her tin-roofed apartment. They way it smelled, the way it brought life and a fresh newness to the world. She adored the way it seemed give anything and everything a second chance. The lightning gave it strength-the thunder gave it meaning. The entire experience brought the young blonde woman peace and hope for another day.
But she'd never see the rising sun after this particular storm.
No, it seemed she was destined for something more.
)O(
"Gandalf! Gandalf! I think she's waking up!"
"Calm yourself, Peregrin Took," an old, crackling voice, like dried leaves under your shoes in the autumn, intoned to the much higher one.
"She's moving an awful lot, Gandalf," another voice, lower, and soft murmured.
"Give her time, Mr. Samwise," the older voice chuckled, "The young lady must decide if she wants to greet us."
The answer was a very clear no on Anastasia's side, but the entire scene sounded a bit too curious for her to pass up. Besides, the deep ache in her left side had grown into a full blown throbbing, a pain that seemed to pull at her very insides.
Sighing, she cracked her green eyes and whined at the light stabbed like golden daggers at her constricted pupils.
"Shh, Pip, she's waking' up!"
"Come now, my dear, the day is growing old. Get up, greet the sun, for he is smiling gayly upon us."
"And that is exactly the problem," Anna snapped, pushing herself up with her right arm.
Her left side seemed to split with pain and she gasped, holding her hand over the wound, finding tight bandages wrapped securely over the hurt. It seemed to span from her breasts to her hip and down her left leg, and Anna nearly choked on tears at the pain.
"Easy, dear," the old man commanded. "Or you will feel the wound much more keenly."
"Oh, trust me," Anna gasped, "I'm feeling it very keenly."
The images before her were blurry with tears, but she could tell immediately that she was no longer in her home, although where it was she couldn't tell, and that everything around her was foreign and frightened her.
She had fallen from her balcony, after the lightning had struck her wrist, drawn to the little metal arrow that was between the shining beads of an old bracelet, and knocked her clear off her perch, down into the alley between apartment buildings. She hadn't worn that trinket in months, and when she did it ended up nearly killing her. Go figure.
"Are you alright?" The high voice questioned again, and she squinted at the little figure by her bed. He had bright red hair and pudgy pink cheeks, making him seem very young. That, and he was only about three feet tall.
"I'll be fine," she growled through her gritted teeth. "I just...need a moment..."
"Peregrin Took, you insufferable child!" The older voice boomed, "Give the young lady her space!"
The deeper voice belonged to an old man, a very old man with a beard the length of his belt, his eyes lively and as blue as cornflowers. His voice was harsh to the young boy, and Anna felt bad for him, reminded of her younger brother.
"It's fine, it's fine," Anna muttered, putting her palm out, "Play nice, boys."
The older man laughed, his voice deep and soothing.
As the pain subsided, Anna was able to pay closer attention to her surroundings. The ceilings were high and sculpted, the pillars made of wooden beams carved intricately like trees, and the windows were large arches carved into stone walls. Sunlight streamed along the four visitors in her room, three very short and one near monstrous in his height, even while sitting while the others stood. The small boys were peering over her coverlet to see her, making Anna want to laugh. The sheets under her palms were cool and smooth, like the finest Egyptian Cotton, and everything around her seemed archaic and foreign. When she looked at the people beside her, they were dressed in robes and tunics, scabbards on their leather belts, baring the shiny hilts of swords.
They looked like something out of a fantasy movie, and Anna felt that she was, indeed, very far from home and most likely never returning.
"Am I dead...?" She asked herself, her throat thick and tight with the thought.
"Very much alive, we are happy to say, Milady," one of the boys said, wringing his hands and refusing to meet her eyes. "Strider found you, he did, and he brought you here to Rivendell to heal. He saved you, yes, he did, and the elves here saved your life."
"Excuse me," Anna cleared her throat, finding it hard to breathe and talk, "I...I think I misheard you, dear, but did you...say Elves? Like...like...Elves?"
"Yes, Milady, I did."
Anna blinked, her mind stuttering to a stop before a deranged sounding giggle left her mouth.
"Oh, I didn't believe Elves existed," she chortled, "But if I was saved by them, well, I..."
Her wrist gave a scream of protest when she tried to grab at her bedding, and she looked down to see bandages along her forearm as well.
Morbid curiosity gripped her, and she began to unwind the bandages quickly, revealing her skin by the inch. When the long ribbon fell to the soft covers, her heart stopped at the sight of her once pale, unmarred skin covered with odd markings. Where the pendant had sat, slipping to the inside of her wrist, was as white as snow, surrounded by dark brown stripes that ran up to her elbow, looking uneven and broken like lightning itself. There were no markings on her hand, but the arrow was prominent and obvious on the underside of her wrist and forearm, and the lines were ugly and discolored.
"What...?"
"You were injured very severely," the old man said suddenly, "You are lucky that Lord Elrond is such a talented healer."
She choked, tears hot and damning in her eyes. They fell at an alarming rate, and she rubbed at her skin with her hand, hoping the brown blemishes would fade with her touch, but it remained when she blinked away the salt water.
"My dear," she shot the older man a dark look, feeling far to revealed in nothing but a shift and bandages, "You are lucky to be alive."
"Of course," she murmured, but only because it was the right thing to say.
Anastasia Black was a vain individual. She wouldn't dare attempt to lie to herself, and she knew that these scars hurt so much worse than anything else did. She would have preferred to be dead than covered with the lesions that now littered her skin. She shivered to think about what would lie beneath the other dressings.
She knew she was pretty-remarkably so. She had natural features that could easily be highlighted with brief touches of makeup, like high cheekbones and big, forest green eyes rimmed with dark lashes. Her hair had natural high and lowlights, a deep honeyed blonde that fell around her waist, waving gently around the ends, and was like golden silk to the touch. Her lips were full, but dull and often chapped from her near constant habit of chewing and the nibbling of various boyfriends. Her teeth were whitened to a natural shade, and perfectly straight and strong, thanks to her grandfather. Her waist was trim, but soft in the belly, and she was fairly short, which seemed to attract every jock at her old high school. Her skin was pale and unblemished since she was thirteen and learning that it was permanently ruined would not sit well with anyone, especially a twenty-one year old girl who put so much pride into her appearance.
"What's your name?" The youngest boy asked, peeking at her with bright brown eyes that sparkled with mischief.
"Anastasia. But you can just call me Anna," the girl murmured, out of instinct more than anything.
"I'm Pippin," he answered, offering her a hand.
Smiling softly, Anna wiped her eyes and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle shake.
"Nice to meet you, Pippin."
"I'm Merry!" Another small boy piped up, only a bit taller than his friend. "It's good to meet you, Lady Anna."
She took his offered hand as well.
"Lovely to meet you, too, Merry."
She kept it to herself that was a common girls name to her.
"I'm," the last redhead spoke quietly, still not looking at her, "My name is Samwise Gamgee, Lady Anna. It's lovely to finely meet you!"
"It's good to meet you as well, Samwise," she smiled kindly at him, and he blushed a bright, carnation pink and shuffled his feet.
"I," the final man spoke last, his voice clear and ringing with authority, "Am Gandalf the Grey."
That sounded familiar in Anna's mind, and she sought hard for why she knew the name. She looked at him, his smoke colored robes mirroring his title. His beard was tucked into a silver belt looped around his waist. He appeared wizened beyond his years, and Anna dated him to be around his sixties or seventies. Maybe older, but had merely aged well.
"Nice to meet you, Gandalf," she smiled softly at him, for he did not offer her a hand to shake, but instead bowed his head in greeting.
"Well!" He stood with jerk, making Anna jump. He took a wooden staff in his grip and ushered the young ones from the room with a swift pat to each. "We will leave you to your own devices. I suggest, kindly, that you do not strain yourself, and rest as much as possible. We will return this evening," he smiled, his eyes alight, and disappeared through an arch.
As soon as 'Gandalf the Grey' was gone from her sight, Anna flipped the coverlet from her legs, and began to slowly, painfully slide off the bed, her feet dangling over the edge. Anastasia tore at the bandages along her leg, revealing more of the odd markings. The long scars appeared to be deep, and felt very sore and painful to the touch, but they were not dark. Standing shakily, Anna stumbled to a shiny metal bowl before unwinding the gauze about her waist and chest, afraid of what she'd find.
When she saw, and felt, all that ran along her left side, she leaned on the wall and sobbed openly. In the shiny silver, she could view jagged pieces of glass from the beads of her bracelet were embedded in her skin, blinking dully in the light of the midday sun. Dark bruising ran along the markings of her side, and some grooves had been torn open and had scabbed over, nearly black. The mark itself resembled a tree. The scoring edged under her breast, opening up and spreading like branches of a great maple, and along her waist they were close and pressed tight together, before flaring around her hip, running over her buttock and near her pubic bone. The beads were around the top, and looked like black and blue twisted fruit, and when Anna ran her fingers over the raised skin, she gagged and cried harder, moving to cover herself. She limped back to her bed, shaking, slipping back into the warmth the down blanket provided.
When she closed her eyes she imagined she was back home, sitting with a tub of Blue Bunny ice-cream and watching movies about World War II, Spartan heroes and the battles of Troy. She cried deeply, frightened and pained, until her mind tired itself and put her to sleep.
I dearly hope, at the very least, SOME people enjoyed this. If you hated it, please forgive me-if so much disdain will occur from this, I'll take it down. If you enjoyed it, I will gladly update! Review and let me know what you think!