Author's Note: Just a head's up, in my Oc's universe, LotR doesn't exist for simplicity's sake and I'll be mixing events from the books and the movies to fit my purposes. Updates Fridays.
With lots of love
Mundie
In a burst of blinding and multicolored light, Cheyanne falls flat on her face with a muffled thump, the force of her landing knocking the air from her lungs. She lays there on the ground for several moments, waiting for the vertigo and dizziness to fade as she attempts to catch her breath without inhaling any unwanted objects. When she can finally breathe again and the ground beneath her stops spinning, she slowly raises her head, squinting as her eyes adjust to the dim light filtering down through the... trees? With a groan, Cheyanne pushes herself stiffly into a sitting position, brushes away the leaves and dirt that stuck to her face, and takes in her new and unfamiliar surroundings with wide eyes.
She sits among the remains of some sort of ancient and crumbling village overrun with dark ivy and large and tangled tree roots; it gives her a sense of familiarity, like the feeling you get when you go someplace that looks like something you've seen in a photo before. The canopy overhead is dark and densely interwoven, only allowing weak rays of watery sunlight through their boughs. The air is chilly and ominously still, like the forest creeping up on the collapsing structures is holding its breath. The stillness causes an uneasy shiver to travel down her spine and she feels as if she is being watched.
Cheyanne shakily stands to her feet and crosses her arms over her chest, the thin fabric of her worn t-shirt doing very little to keep out the chill. However, the temperature is the last thing on her mind. All she can think about is wondering how in God's green Earth she ended up in the middle of a dark and completely unfamiliar forest. Shaking her head and grunting to herself, she decides the only thing to be done is to walk and see if she can't find a way out of this forest. So, brushing a loose strand of dark hair away from her face, she does, leaving the dilapidated and somehow oddly familiar ruins behind.
Or at least she tries to.
The gigantic moss covered tree roots and the lack of any clear path makes it extremely hard to get anywhere but nowhere fast. Why do there have to be trees with roots whole feet taller than Cheyanne and a forest that seems out to get anyone that happens to stumble, or in her case, fall on her face in? She's lost count of how many times she's had to double back thanks to the roots looming up in the dimness. It feels like she's been wandering in circles for hours, but in actuality, only one has probably passed. To make things worse, the chilly air has sunken into her very bones and she desperately wishes she had thought to wear a sweater before settling down with a book in her backyard.
Just as the thought of home crosses her mind, Cheyanne stumbles through a thin layer of underbrush and finds herself tripping right back into the place she started.
Stepping into the center of the clearing, she does a quick circle and throws up her hands. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me!"
But in mid-motion, she freezes, her breath catching in her throat.
There, several yards to her right down a critter-trail she didn't notice before, are three... Things.
The only word that comes to mind when she looks at them is monstrous. Their skin is a sickly blue and splotched with black, like hideous bruises. Their eyes are bulbous and yellow, set in misshapen skulls. Behind cruelly curled lips are jagged rock like teeth, broken and discolored. Their gaits are uneven and staccato, and their spines crooked, causing them to be half bent over like they carry an invisible weight on their backs.
Suddenly, the three of them stop in their tracks, hideous eyes bent on Cheyanne.
Her feet are moving before she even realizes it and she's sprinting in the opposite direction as fast as she can. Branches whip her face and arms and open up small, stinging cuts, but she barely feels it thanks to adrenaline pumping through her veins. Never in her whole life has she felt this terrified or run this fast. And the sound of those hideous things pursuing her, cackling and whooping, spurs her on like a cracking whip. They sound as if they are drawing closer with every step and Cheyanne forces her legs to go even faster, ignoring her protesting muscles and the increasing heaviness of her panicked breaths.
A huge root looms up in front of her and she screeches to a halt, leaves scattering beneath her heels. She only pauses a second before cutting to the left and forcing her way through the underbrush. Cheyanne hears those things behind her making an even bigger racket than she is, the sound of blade parting branches following their voices as they call after her. Cheyanne shoves interwoven limbs aside and struggles her way through bushes, ignoring the plants digging into her legs through her jeans and the stinging in her hands. After about thirty seconds of desperate struggling, Cheyanne breaks through the underbrush and low hanging tree limbs.
However, thanks to her forward momentum, she loses her balance and careens halfway into the small clearing, arms pinwheeling as she stumbles. Cheyanne's feet slip on the damp leaves strewn about and go right out from under her like she was trying run on ice. She lands on her hands and knees, stinging pain shooting up her limbs. Cheyanne scrambles back to her feet, her head whipping from side to side as she looks for a speedy way to get out of this situation. There are no clear paths, only the broken trail she made on her way in. She spins back around as the sound of her pursuers draws much, much closer. The underbrush before her waves wildly and the voices reach their peak before those monsters burst from the foliage.
Cheyanne freezes, eyes as wide as dinner plates as the monsters, blades gleaming dully in the weak light, shuffle closer to her.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" The first monster's mouth twists into a cruel parody of a smile.
Cheyanne shrinks away as the three hideous creatures step closer to her, slowly fanning out like predators stalking their prey. Her throat constricts, trapping her voice in the form of a hard lump.
The creature on her right sizes her up, yellow eyes running down her body. "Interesting choice of apparel, missy. Seen nothing like that before." It gestures at her jeans with a twisted hand.
Cheyanne shrinks further under the creature's threatening tone of voice and scrutinization. She takes a step back, breathing heavy, heart pounding so hard in her chest, it's a wonder no one else can hear it.
This has to be a dream, some sick, demented dream.
The one farthest to her left lets out a strange clucking growl as it shifts its weight. "Do ya think she's the one?"
The first monster inches forward, head tilting this way and that, reminding Cheyanne of a bird of prey. "No sense in leaving her here." The monster's cruel smile returns. "Can't let the lost little bird fend for herself."
Broken and guttural laughter circulates between the three of them and, to Cheyanne's rapidly mounting horror, they slowly begin to converge. Cheyanne casts around wildly for anything, anything at all to defend herself with. She steps back from every step forward the monsters take, her panic mounting and mounting the tighter into a corner she becomes. Her brain races, desperate to think of a way out of this that doesn't end with her becoming a kebab. When Cheyanne's back presses against a large tree trunk and her fate nearly becomes sealed, her foot knocks into something solid. She looks down, realizing it's a good sized and thick tree branch. Without thinking, Cheyanne scoops it up and brandishes it.
"Back off!" Her knuckles are white around the branch, the bark digging into her skin. The sting helps ground her a little. "I mean it- stay away!"
The three of them stop just short of their blades touching Cheyanne's branch, but the leader directly in front of her begins to laugh, a hideous, twisted laugh. The other two follow suit and the longer they laugh at her, the more her terror rises. Her body decides she's had enough and her fight or flight instincts kick into overdrive. With a yell, she strikes out at the leader's head as hard as she can. The creature flinches away just enough to where the blow only glances off. Taking the opportunity, Cheyanne strikes again, this time hitting the arm of the monster on her right, causing its blade to thump to the leaf-strewn ground.
But before she can even think to run again, a grotesque arm curls around her midsection and presses her firmly against an armored body. She struggles for several seconds, crying out and flailing with the branch but the kiss of a cool blade against the side of her face makes her freeze immediately.
"Drop the branch, you stupid wench." The blade presses more and Cheyanne obediently allows the piece of wood to slip from her fingers.
The first monster she hit regains its bearings and bends a glare on her, it's lip curling away from its yellowed teeth. "Idiotic girl." The monster approaches her, blade raised in a threatening manner.
The remaining monster scoops up its weapon and spits on the ground at her feet. "Go on, cut up that pretty face! Teach her a lesson!"
The creature's arm tightens around her waist and its disgusting hot breath ghosts over her ear and the side of her face. "Didn't say nothing about unharmed, did he?"
Those demented smiles appear on their faces again and Cheyanne's stomach drops with dread. Time feels as if it slows down when the knife digs deeper into her skin, deep enough to begin parting flesh. Cheyanne cries out and begins to struggle, kicking her legs and flailing her arms wildly. The monster growls and draws the blade down, tearing open the soft flesh of Cheyanne's cheek.
Please, wake up, wake up!
Just as she makes her silent plea, a sharp whistling permeates the air, followed by a sickening thunk just beside Cheyanne's ear. The monster's arm around her slackens and the knife falls away from her face. She drops to her knees and twists around, eyes widening as she beholds the creature lying dead behind her.
The shaft of an arrow protrudes from its skull.
Cheyanne's head whips back around fast enough to nearly cause whiplash when another whistling sound cuts through the air. She watches in shock as this second arrow embeds deeply in the head of the next monster, causing it to drop dead to the ground. The remaining creature tries to run, but the third arrow is too fast. This one, too, falls to the ground, dead.
There are several moments of dead silence as Cheyanne's wheeling mind catches up with what just happened.
The blank eyes of the dead monsters stare into her soul and her stomach knots painfully when she notices black blood, as thick as syrup, leaks from around the arrows and onto the ground. The rancid smell reaches her nostrils, sharp and disgusting. The scent and sight twist her stomach sharply and Cheyanne turns to the side and vomits up the contents of her lunch.
When her stomach stops convulsing, Cheyanne draws the back of her hand across her mouth as she turns away from the mess. She looks numbly down at her hand when it comes away wet, red smeared across her knuckles.
Blood.
The stinging in her face kicks up ten notches when it occurs to her that she's bleeding. Cheyanne presses a hand to her face and looks around again, her heart rate picking up with a jolt. Someone shot those monsters and Cheyanne doesn't want to be kneeling completely defenseless on the ground when that person decides to show themselves. They've probably been watching her this whole time she's spent on the ground. With this thought in mind, Cheyanne stands shakily to her feet, avoiding looking at the prone bodies lying around her. She steadies herself on the tree behind her for a second before she picks up the discarded branch.
Clutching it in one hand and keeping the other pressed to her bleeding face, Cheyanne calls out in as strong a voice as she can manage. "Who's there?"
She immediately wants to slap herself. Who's there? Really? Way to be the stereotypical character that dies in the first five minutes of an episode of Supernatural.
There are several moments of silence and during that time Cheyanne is sure another arrow is going to fly through the air and end her life as swiftly as those creatures' lives. But instead, the foliage shrouding the way she came in moves softly and someone, with barely more than a whisper of leaves, steps out into the clearing.