Chapter one: a long- expected movie

I walked out of the movie theater where I had just been to see the movie Return of the King. To my left was my friend Lauren, to my right, Amanda, and a few feet in front of me my brother and parents. "So" my mom said "what did you girls think of the movie?"

"Oh my god" Lauren replied. "It was soooooooo cool."

I had to agree. The movie had been great. I really loved the part when the black tower had collapsed and the eye has imploded. That had been really cool. And so was shelob. And Eowen fighting the nazgul. And heck, I loved all of it. But that Legolas blonde haired Legolas I tugged on my own hair, blonde also, but wavy, and found myself compelled to voice my opinion of a certain elf.

"There was too much Orlando Bloom." I said decidedly.

Beside me, Lauren gasped and yelled, "BLASPHEMY!!"

"What the crap?" my brother asked. "There were, like, two scenes with him in them."

"Two scenes to many." I replied. I am the number one Orlando Bloom hater. And proud of it.

You see, unlike the majority of my grade, I hate Orlando Bloom. I tried to dye my hair so I wouldn't have the same color as legolas. My favorite activities are flaming Mary-Sues, and writing The Evil One hate mail.

So you see, this is why I was so annoyed, let's say, about what happened later.

The next few days were uneventful. We finally got out for winter vacation at school, so I was in a good mood.

On that joyful last Tuesday, I was having a great day, despite a roaring headache, a huge cough and a French teacher bent on world domination. When I went home, I was skipping, which is a little weird, considering that A- I walk and B- my rout home has about four random hills that just shoot up at a near 90 ยบ angle. Anyway on with the story.

I was so happy, and sugarhigh, (some kids mom had made cookies, and there were a lot. Enough for me to have four.) that my mom made me run laps outside. Being the smart person I am, I ran them without a coat, which probably didn't do much for my cough.

While I was running through the strip of woods in my backyard, I heard a voice say something in a foreign language and something cold touched my neck. Was this my French teacher out to get me because I knew her plan? In case it was, I was prepared to run like hell.

It wasn't. it was something much worse

It was a Tolkienite.

Now let me say this- I have nothing about people who like Tolkien. I myself believe he is a wonderful author. But there has to be a line somewhere. And I draw the line- a very nice, thick one, easy to see- at dressing up like LOTR characters.

Especially the Hated One.

"Shut up and go away, you wacko." I snapped, kicking him in the shin.

I felt a hand grab my shoulder. "Where am I, and who are you?"

I sighed. "I don't talk to strangers especially those dressed like The Hated And Highly Evil One." this was accompanied by a kick to the other shin. I turned and started jogging toward my house. The Tolkienite was lucky- I had only kicked him twice. When I am pissed, I can kick hard, and it hurts. A girl in my class claims I broke her leg, bu I have a feeling it was her limping down the stairs and falling that broke it. Although she was limping because I kicked her twice in the same spot

Now, this should be the end of the story, but it isn't. Unfortunately. Because A- the wacko wasn't a tolkienite, and B- Lauren was coming to stay.

It was going to be a long week.

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