A/N: Hello! If you're a nostalgic reader coming back to check this out, you'll realize that a lot of this has changed. This is because I've realized a lot of this story was badly written, though the idea is not all that bad. Therefore, I've redone a lot of this story. Enjoy!
Prologue
Laine stared across the landscape, shielding her eyes from the midday sun. The flat, green plains ended abruptly in the tall vastness of mossy dark trees. She could not see the end of the lines of trees to her left or right. To the north, were mountains, but in the south, the plains seemed to stretch on forever. The sun was hot on the top of her head, and using a hand, she raked through her strawberry, almost dirty, blond hair.
She couldn't take her eyes off the majesty and lushness of the forest of Mirkwood. This was an unusual heat for spring, this far north in Middle-Earth, and the grass beneath her horse's feet was dry. Yellow blades protruded from the green earth of the Gladden Fields. However, none of the shining rays seemed to pierce the dense, towering monsters of green in the forest of the Sindarin elves.
An elf rode up next to her and breathed in the familiar air of his home. Looking forward, he could not remember Mirkwood looking that vast ever before. His horse, a handsome roan mare, spurred impatiently, tossing its brown mane in his face. He calmed it, and brushed the horsehair back in place with a long slender elvish hand.
Laine noticed her companion and laughed. But as she did, her own horse spurred, blinding her sight for a moment with black hair. This time, it was Legolas's turn to laugh. He stopped abruptly when Aragorn stopped his horse next to his and gave the two an amused look.
The girl switched the reins from one hand to the other, impatiently stirring in the saddle, and gave the man a smile. Aragorn, a tall man, stern, but gentle, with a kingly look upon his brow, shook his head at the girl's youthful cheerfulness. She was at the young age of 19, but because of her nature, she was still a bit naïve and tomboyish. Looking back at the line of trees, the king of Gondor said, "Well, here we are," and urged his horse towards the woods. The two others followed.