Hi! I know I ought to be working on In Dreams and Death, but I could not stop thinking about this idea...

Please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. I only own my Original Characters and Original Swords.

Middle-Earth isn't real, Lea."

She always says that. Always. I half-hate her for it.

For one thing, Middle-Earth- or Arda, which is more inclusive, but Kelsey refuses to understand that- is awesome. So awesome that it totally deserves to exist. Why Kelsey simply cannot understand the epic awesomeness of Lord of the Rings is far beyond my comprehension.

For another thing, I have an Elvish dagger in my living room.

I cross my arms and stare at my friend. "Really."

"Really."

"Explain Fëasicil, then."

She shakes her head. "Lea, someday you're just going to have to understand that people make copies of things. Like with that Strider guy's sword-"

"Aragorn's sword, Anduril-"

"-and that doesn't make them real."

I roll my eyes at her. "Of course people make replicas! Where do you think I got this from, Mordor?" Here I hold up the Ring which I keep on a chain around my neck.

Yes, I really do have a Ring. I am obsessed.

The Ring is mine. My own. My precious. I have to have something of my own from Arda, even if it is clearly fake. Fëasicil belongs to my mother.

"Yes, Lea," Kelsey tells me, as though talking to a child. "But Fëasicil is a copy, too. It isn't actually from Middle-Earth."

This is an old argument, so often said that I feel like I am reading from a script. I am sick and tired of this script.

Something in me snaps. We have rehearsed this silly little 'play' one too many times. I am through with it. Done. I ignore my cue and improvise, fueled by unchecked fire raging in my head. Kelsey and I are like two sticks, rubbed against each other enough times in the unceasing quarrel, and finally bursting into flame.

I grab her hand and drag her over to Fëasicil's pedestal. The dagger is silver, so shiny that mirrors ought to be jealous, and unmarked save for the black runes crawling snake-like up the hilt. It is protected by a glass case, but in my wrath, I do not care.

A tightly curled fist slams onto the case and shatters it. Glass shards go flying like a shower of crystal snow. Maybe they hit me, and maybe not. I hear Kelsey shrieking, but from pain, or fear, or what, I cannot tell.

I snatch the dagger off of its pedestal and hold it before her. Kelsey shrieks louder and shrinks away.

I have no intention to hurt her with it. Even consumed by rage, I am no murderer. I only want to make a point utterly clear.

"Do you see this?" I yell, eyes ablaze. "Do you see this, Kelsey?" She nods. "This is Fëasicil, and it is real! It is not like an Anduril replica! It is a real Elvish blade and it will cut like one!"

I glance around for any suitable targets within arm's reach. The only ones I see are the couch pillows, but Mum will kill me if I mutilate those pillows. So I settle for the next best target- my arm.

In my rage, I am not rational.

With all the force my mad fury gives me, I crash the blade onto- into- my left wrist. It cuts through skin and vein very bloodily. The blood is very red…

"LEAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Kelsey whips her cell phone out of her pocket and dashes forward to grab Fëasicil from my hand…

…so much blood, so much red…

…but the instant her fingers touch it, she writhes as scarlet lightning dances across her skin…

…so much red. My world is all full of red…

…red…

…red…

…black…

A/N: Review please!