Author's note:
Originally when I wrote this fic, I had wanted to include not only my favourite celebrity guys (Legolas for eg.) but also my friends' favourite celebrities as well, so for those who read this first chapter and thought the names sound familiar, you're right.
"Mark Read" (who is not actually an athlete but a singer) is from A1 and is my friends Emma and Ri's favourite band member (and you can also tell I don't particularly like him much :P)
"Freddie Feehily" (or Mark Feehily more commonly known as) is from Westlife and "Lee Ryan" is from Blue.
I'll just like to add that the depictions I had made of these guys may not be accurate; I simply improvised to make it more entertaining, so please don't be offended if you're a Mark Read fan - I'm sure he's not a jerk in reality!
I apologise also if I am not consistent in my "English spelling" and the "Americanised spelling" - Microsoft Word keeps changing the words to American (not anymore - just figured out how to change to Aussie spelling). Also the use of like dots (or lots of full-stops) .. for eg. does not seem to turn up and just ends up being one full-stop, so please bear with me there. And finally with italicizing, they also don't seem to turn up.
Thanks and please continue reading! Make sure you review! I appreciate all comments and any suggestions or ideas! ~Shelly-the-great
**********
CHAPTER 1:
I threw my heavy Mathematics textbook into my bag and hurried to meet my friends, Emma and Ri down at the oval.
I spotted them pushed up against the oval fence watching popular jerk Mark Read train - State High's most talented runner. He was stretching wearing just a pair of hipster shorts.
A small group (if you call 40 people small) of (female) admirers were cheering him on - god knows why, he's only stretching! However, Emma and Ri's boyfriends did not seem quite as enthusiastic as the girls, and were glowering at Mark.
Emma's boyfriend, Freddie Feehily, a tall, dark haired guy with an ambition to be in a band, tried to grab her attention by singing sweetly which usually worked, but alas, she barely noticed.
Lee Ryan, the boy of Ri's dream (or was until Mark started taking off clothes) pulled a disgusted face, rolled his eyes and aimed Freddie's "Lord of the Rings" (hard cover) novel over the fence at the unsuspecting Mark.
Unfortunately a passing girl bumped into Lee; he let go of the heavy book and it went flying into the opposite direction at an innocent bystander:
Me.
I, who was staring at Mister Big-head Read in disbelief as he flashed his six-pack, didn't see the 2 kg book headed for my head, until it was too late.
I attempted to dodge, but wasn't fast enough.
Everything went black.
***** I struggled into consciousness and saw a pair of concerned grey eyes looking at me intently. 'Lee!' I screamed, recovering faster from being smacked unconscious than anyone else ever had in history. 'You dumb bastard! Aim properly next time! My head bloody hurts, you know!'
'Arwen? Are you all right?' The pair of eyes moved away from me so I could see the face. It was definitely not Lee; besides Lee had blue eyes not grey. What was I thinking? The face watching me was tanned, stern and was way older than Lee.
'Who are you?' I asked, sitting up, clutching my aching head.
'There, there, sweet Arwen! I'm Aragorn, remember?' the soft, deep voice replied. A stream of light suddenly shone onto the man. He was very handsome even though he was quite oldish - very manly and strong with dark hair flecked with grey. But I wasn't thinking about that; I was thinking why the name "Aragorn" sounded strangely familiar.
'Uh.Where am I?' The room I was in was certainly not anywhere in school; the room was made of pale deep blue glass that shone dully in the sunlight.
The man sighed. 'You are in your bedroom in your father's house, at Rivendell and was just hit on the head by a silly little hobbit who fell out of a tree.'
The words "Rivendell" and "hobbit" struck my memory working. The image of Year 8 and my English teacher came back to me in a rush. 'Now children, after you finish reading at least the first half, you can answer this question: why was Frodo the hobbit and his friends wanting to go to Rivendell?' she had asked, looking directly at me probably because I had been dozing off, snoring loudly.
I am in the "Lord of the Rings" novel?! My brain screamed at me. "Aragorn" is a character! HOLD ON, HOLD ON now that's ridiculous! In a book?! That's the stupidest thing, Brain you had ever thought of!
'Is this a joke?' I questioned "Aragorn" furiously. 'Did Lee set you up with this whole Lord of the Rings crap to be give me a bigger headache than the one I have right now?!'
The stare I received back was of truthful surprise and puzzlement. There was no doubt that this man had no idea what I was on about. 'Who is this Lee you keep mentioning?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. 'I think I better summon your father. that Pippin landing on you may had affected you more than I thought.' He stood up, patted my arm and left the room.
I immediately got out of bed and peered into the mirror. The Alison Hokkenpoff I had known for 15 years looked back at me - the same dark hair - the same face - the same brow.blue? Blue? BLUE eyes?! I have BLUE eyes?! What the hell!
Moving closer I realized they were real, and not contacts (and quite a nice shade - deep blue like sapphire).
Besides no one could have possibly shoved in contacts while I was knocked out, not even the "wonderful, perfect" Mark Read. Speaking of contacts, I suddenly realized that I wasn't wearing any glasses!
And my hair! I reached up and stroked it - it was down to my waist!
And my skin! I could have easily gone for those "Neutrogena" commercial, it was so white and smooth. No adolescent zit sign anywhere.
Now this is either a really good dream where I have perfect skin and hair and blue eyes (not that I particularly like that part, I prefer my dark brown eyes) and have woken up to a "tall, dark and handsome" guy who's obviously my boyfriend of something *ignoring fact that he is a fictional character, 4 times older than me, and that he just told me I was hit by a hobbit*, OR I have gone crazy and this is my concussion thinking.
The door opened and two figures (one who was "Aragorn") stood there. "Ah it's wonderful to see you out of bed, Arwen!' said the other man, a very tall serious-faced fellow with brown hair sleeked back, and deep mournful eyes.
Arwen? I thought, stretching my memory back to two years back. Arwen! The halfelven Aragorn loved or something! Hmm. now if this is my concussion making this up, I'll just like to know why IT CAN REMEMBER CHARACTERS BETTER THAN MY BRAIN CAN?! Hmph. This can't be real.
Then why am I dreaming that I'm Arwen? Why am I dreaming that a hobbit knocked me out? .What is happening to me?
*****
Originally when I wrote this fic, I had wanted to include not only my favourite celebrity guys (Legolas for eg.) but also my friends' favourite celebrities as well, so for those who read this first chapter and thought the names sound familiar, you're right.
"Mark Read" (who is not actually an athlete but a singer) is from A1 and is my friends Emma and Ri's favourite band member (and you can also tell I don't particularly like him much :P)
"Freddie Feehily" (or Mark Feehily more commonly known as) is from Westlife and "Lee Ryan" is from Blue.
I'll just like to add that the depictions I had made of these guys may not be accurate; I simply improvised to make it more entertaining, so please don't be offended if you're a Mark Read fan - I'm sure he's not a jerk in reality!
I apologise also if I am not consistent in my "English spelling" and the "Americanised spelling" - Microsoft Word keeps changing the words to American (not anymore - just figured out how to change to Aussie spelling). Also the use of like dots (or lots of full-stops) .. for eg. does not seem to turn up and just ends up being one full-stop, so please bear with me there. And finally with italicizing, they also don't seem to turn up.
Thanks and please continue reading! Make sure you review! I appreciate all comments and any suggestions or ideas! ~Shelly-the-great
**********
CHAPTER 1:
I threw my heavy Mathematics textbook into my bag and hurried to meet my friends, Emma and Ri down at the oval.
I spotted them pushed up against the oval fence watching popular jerk Mark Read train - State High's most talented runner. He was stretching wearing just a pair of hipster shorts.
A small group (if you call 40 people small) of (female) admirers were cheering him on - god knows why, he's only stretching! However, Emma and Ri's boyfriends did not seem quite as enthusiastic as the girls, and were glowering at Mark.
Emma's boyfriend, Freddie Feehily, a tall, dark haired guy with an ambition to be in a band, tried to grab her attention by singing sweetly which usually worked, but alas, she barely noticed.
Lee Ryan, the boy of Ri's dream (or was until Mark started taking off clothes) pulled a disgusted face, rolled his eyes and aimed Freddie's "Lord of the Rings" (hard cover) novel over the fence at the unsuspecting Mark.
Unfortunately a passing girl bumped into Lee; he let go of the heavy book and it went flying into the opposite direction at an innocent bystander:
Me.
I, who was staring at Mister Big-head Read in disbelief as he flashed his six-pack, didn't see the 2 kg book headed for my head, until it was too late.
I attempted to dodge, but wasn't fast enough.
Everything went black.
***** I struggled into consciousness and saw a pair of concerned grey eyes looking at me intently. 'Lee!' I screamed, recovering faster from being smacked unconscious than anyone else ever had in history. 'You dumb bastard! Aim properly next time! My head bloody hurts, you know!'
'Arwen? Are you all right?' The pair of eyes moved away from me so I could see the face. It was definitely not Lee; besides Lee had blue eyes not grey. What was I thinking? The face watching me was tanned, stern and was way older than Lee.
'Who are you?' I asked, sitting up, clutching my aching head.
'There, there, sweet Arwen! I'm Aragorn, remember?' the soft, deep voice replied. A stream of light suddenly shone onto the man. He was very handsome even though he was quite oldish - very manly and strong with dark hair flecked with grey. But I wasn't thinking about that; I was thinking why the name "Aragorn" sounded strangely familiar.
'Uh.Where am I?' The room I was in was certainly not anywhere in school; the room was made of pale deep blue glass that shone dully in the sunlight.
The man sighed. 'You are in your bedroom in your father's house, at Rivendell and was just hit on the head by a silly little hobbit who fell out of a tree.'
The words "Rivendell" and "hobbit" struck my memory working. The image of Year 8 and my English teacher came back to me in a rush. 'Now children, after you finish reading at least the first half, you can answer this question: why was Frodo the hobbit and his friends wanting to go to Rivendell?' she had asked, looking directly at me probably because I had been dozing off, snoring loudly.
I am in the "Lord of the Rings" novel?! My brain screamed at me. "Aragorn" is a character! HOLD ON, HOLD ON now that's ridiculous! In a book?! That's the stupidest thing, Brain you had ever thought of!
'Is this a joke?' I questioned "Aragorn" furiously. 'Did Lee set you up with this whole Lord of the Rings crap to be give me a bigger headache than the one I have right now?!'
The stare I received back was of truthful surprise and puzzlement. There was no doubt that this man had no idea what I was on about. 'Who is this Lee you keep mentioning?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. 'I think I better summon your father. that Pippin landing on you may had affected you more than I thought.' He stood up, patted my arm and left the room.
I immediately got out of bed and peered into the mirror. The Alison Hokkenpoff I had known for 15 years looked back at me - the same dark hair - the same face - the same brow.blue? Blue? BLUE eyes?! I have BLUE eyes?! What the hell!
Moving closer I realized they were real, and not contacts (and quite a nice shade - deep blue like sapphire).
Besides no one could have possibly shoved in contacts while I was knocked out, not even the "wonderful, perfect" Mark Read. Speaking of contacts, I suddenly realized that I wasn't wearing any glasses!
And my hair! I reached up and stroked it - it was down to my waist!
And my skin! I could have easily gone for those "Neutrogena" commercial, it was so white and smooth. No adolescent zit sign anywhere.
Now this is either a really good dream where I have perfect skin and hair and blue eyes (not that I particularly like that part, I prefer my dark brown eyes) and have woken up to a "tall, dark and handsome" guy who's obviously my boyfriend of something *ignoring fact that he is a fictional character, 4 times older than me, and that he just told me I was hit by a hobbit*, OR I have gone crazy and this is my concussion thinking.
The door opened and two figures (one who was "Aragorn") stood there. "Ah it's wonderful to see you out of bed, Arwen!' said the other man, a very tall serious-faced fellow with brown hair sleeked back, and deep mournful eyes.
Arwen? I thought, stretching my memory back to two years back. Arwen! The halfelven Aragorn loved or something! Hmm. now if this is my concussion making this up, I'll just like to know why IT CAN REMEMBER CHARACTERS BETTER THAN MY BRAIN CAN?! Hmph. This can't be real.
Then why am I dreaming that I'm Arwen? Why am I dreaming that a hobbit knocked me out? .What is happening to me?
*****