Author's Notes: Aye, aye, a new story is come! Yes, I know I should be working on some of my other ones, but this idea popped into my head last night, so I decided to write it now instead of letting the idea rot in the back of my brain for all eternity. Sure, it's not the most original idea out there, but I think it'll be cute.
And guess what? All the characters are mine! Mine I tell you! Mawhahahahahaha!
So, please, enjoy!
Chapter 1:
The first thing anyone should know about high schools is, no matter what time, town, or earth it's in, is that there will always be a division among the social classes. For example, you have your Jocks, you have your Popular Girls, you have your Goths. No matter when or where you are, they're there.
And then you have a species considered abundant by others, but considered rare by its members; you have a buffet of all those left over; you have the rejects.
You have the Oddballs.
The Oddballs defy the mold of the typical high school student. They are comprised of the geeks, of the dreamers, of the brains, and of the socially awkward.
Along with the other groups, the Oddballs transcend time and place. They even managed to pop up in, once upon a time, and of all places, a high school in Rivendell…
"We're going to be late," Tararith snapped at her twin sister as they hurried along the path to class. The sun was weak, just rising, and the air smelled fresh.
"No we're not," Sung said. "You say that every morning, and yet every morning, we still get there in time."
"Yeah, well…" Tararith grumbled, unable to think of a retort. What Sung had said was true; they hadn't been late for the start of class yet this year.
The Elven twins continued along the path, books held together with straps swinging from hands. In a few minutes time, they arrived at the outdoor classroom in one of the many gazebos of Rivendell, and slid into their seats, Tararith in the front and Sung in the back, with plenty of time to spare before the start of class.
As Tararith took her seat in the second row, a sleepy-eyed Agriliven, one of the humans from Gondor, turned around. "'Morning," she yawned.
"'Morning," Tararith said, unclipping her book strap, and selecting a notebook to place on her desk. The rest she placed neatly under her seat. "Did you do the homework?" she asked, although she already knew the answer.
"No," Agriliven said, a grin creeping onto her face.
"You never do," Tararith scoffed, "but somehow, you still manage high marks in this class." She sounded annoyed, but the twinkle of laughter in her eyes gave her away to her friend.
"You get high marks, too," Agriliven countered.
"Yeah, but I actually have to work for mine," Tararith grumbled. It was true – math was definitely not her best subject.
But before the conversation could go any further, there came the sound of drumming on one of the gazebo posts, announcing Gynic's arrival.
"'Morning, everyone," Gynic said as he walked up the aisle of desks to the front of the classroom. He threw his beat-up satchel onto his desk, then turned and faced the class.
Gynic had come to Rivendell the year before from a small village in Gondor. His brown hair was short, which was unusual for Men, and he was always dressed down, much preferring leggings and a tunic to the more formal robes that some of the other teachers sported.
"Get your homework out," Gynic said. He reached into his satchel and produced his grade book and a charcoal stick with which to mark it. There was a good amount of rustling as the students produced their homework to be checked off.
Gynic started off with Agriliven. "No homework?" he asked lightly, a grin on his face.
"Nope," Agriliven said, almost proudly. Gynic shook his head, but made a credit mark in his grade book anyway.
Tararith flipped her notebook open to the page that contained her homework. Gynic peered at it and raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure about any of those?" he asked.
Tararith smiled at him. "Absolutely not," she said. Gynic laughed, but still marked it as complete.
A while later, after everyone's homework had been checked, Gynic was finally able to regain control of the class. "I'm sending note around!" he shouted over the chatter of his class. "Notebooks out! I want these copied!"
Agriliven passed the stack of notes back to Tararith, who grabbed one, then passed the rest over her shoulder to the Hobbit who sat behind her. She picked up her quill, dipped it in her ink well, and began to copy the notes.
After another hour, class was dismissed. Tararith packed up her books and strapped them together. Then she headed out of the gazebo and down the path to her favorite courtyard.
There was nothing particularly special about this courtyard. It had flowers and benches and a fountain just like all the other courtyards did. But this was her favorite because this is where her rag-tag clan of friends gathered after every class.
This morning, Tararith was greeted with the familiar sight of everyone gathered together. They were such a diverse group, made up of Elves, Hobbits, and Men. She and Sung, along with Nilmandra, Lómebrilias, and Elriowiel had traveled from Mirkwood to go to school here; Tiniweil and Elvebrilith were Rivendell natives; Gwilla, Merebo, and Elyrka had come from the Shire; the sisters Ibalicien and Ethiwen, along with Yricyn, Baulla, and Moilia were from Rohan; and Giwen, Sevein, and Agriliven had made the journey all the way from Gondor.
Although they seemed so different, there was one thing that they all had in common: they were all Oddballs. They were the ones that didn't fit in in high school, except with each other.
But most important of all, they were survivors.