Author: Ash
Rating: PG 13
Warning: Violence, racial controversy, swearing/cursing, AU
Summary: After Valinor is destroyed, and the survivors have nowhere else to turn, they find themselves in the mists of a war in Northern America in the 21'st century, and are unwillingly involved in a resistance movement, hiding out in a small colony in the wilds of the forests of Canada.
Author's Note: This is slightly AU. It is rated for violence and racial controversy. Please note that this is fanfiction and I mean no offence to any other cultures and/or religious beliefs. This fic actually derives from a dream I had and it just wouldn't get out of my head until it was written down.
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Prologue:
Legolas' head broke through the icy sea water and he sputtered for breath, gasping the clear air into his burning lungs, and was barely aware of the pair of strong hands pulling his soaked form into the small grey ship. His attention was immediately drawn back to the inflamed island of Valinor, and he closed his bright Elven eyes in sorrow, his heart weeping at the dreadful scene.
It had been horrifying, happening before anyone could foresee it. It had been as grand as any other night in the land of Valinor; Not long before the great catastrophe, the people of the fair land had just finished one of their many renowned feasts, and were to retire to their prospective homes, but it was not to be. A gleaming light had suddenly appeared within the night sky, at first appearing as a comet, but a was immediately concluded a threat by many. In panicked vigor, the Elves had scattered, many in too much fear to abide to the Valars' commands to head for the ships. Some were coherent enough and did as they were bid, but others were not so fortunate, their fear, as well as the flying object hurdling towards them, drowning out all comprehension. The Valar had then disappeared, where, they knew not.
The Elves whom were fortunate enough to make it to the boats had barely enough time to push off the sandy shore before the oncoming object struck their lands, rattling the earth with a fury so great that even the fiercest creatures would quake in fear.
Legolas, whom had already been boarded in the first boats, along with Mithrandir, Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, Galadriel and Celeborn, had watched the scene in utter horror, his mouth agape, as the strange metal article collided with their world, spreading destruction throughout its path, and wiping out all life within its reach. The great cloud that accompanied the blast came forward still, and Gandalf barely had enough time to erect his staff and mutter a spell to protect the cramped ship and obstruct the threat before even the great waters rocked against the silver creature's fury. Legolas had been jarred against the railing then, and had fallen overboard into the murky waters.
His saddened orbs wandered to each figure present, anguish apparent in each of their bright, ancient eyes. Celeborn held his wife lovingly against his breast in silent comfort, while Gandalf kneeled at the bow of the ship, head bowed in one withered hand while the other clutched his staff shakily. Erestor's palm was pressed firmly to his forehead, muttering words of denial, and Glorfindel placed a comforting hand on his tense shoulders, though he himself fought to put on a brave face, it was obvious to anyone who knew the warrior that the slouch of his shoulders and the distress upon his handsome face was not merely the resolution of fatigue. And then there was Elrond. The great Elf lord stared grimly at their once majestic home, now in ruins, his wise grey eyes wide with shock, and his lips slightly parted.
What were they to do now? Where were the Valar and why were they unable to stop the attack, and why had they abandoned them so? Would they even come back? Could it be possible that they were all destroyed by this malice? Were there any other survivors?
The latter was answered when Glorfindel's powerful voice bellowed out into the night, calling for any other whom may have survived the blast. They scanned the destroyed island again, as well as the now destroyed boats rocking softly upon the water's waves. All that answered them was silence, and their heads bowed dejectedly.
They were gone. All of them. Legolas' throat suddenly felt very dry, and he found it difficult to breath. Everyone he had known, everyone he had been raised with, were gone. His father and his mother, his brothers, and his friends, they were no more. Gone.
He was drawn from his reverie when he felt a firm hand tilt his chin as Elrond examined him for injuries, and as the waves continued to rock the boat, he was vaguely aware of a light blanket being draped over his shoulders by the Lady Galadriel, while Glorfindel and Erestor set sail at Gandalf's command.
"Come," the old Istar murmured with sorrow griping his ancient voice. "We cannot stay here."
None of them spoke a word, still in shock from the occurrence that had only moments ago destroyed their home in mere seconds. In silent agreement, the Elves and the Istari set off into the north. Why Mithrandir chose that direction, none knew, but all were too flustered to argue.
Legolas curled up near the flank of the ship despondently, resting his chin on his pulled up legs, returning to thoughts of his family, and to thoughts of what was to come. Where now were they headed? Would they return to the world of Men, thousands of years later after their departure? And if so, would Man accept them or would they have to hide their identities?
To ask Mithrandir would only bring on more confusion and riddles, and he doubted anyone else knew, and so he came to the conclusion that the best course of action would be to remain silent and wait and find out.
A bellowing roar of thunder issued across the night sky as clouds began to form, blinding the stars from vision, accompanied with a bright flash of lightening illuminating the white sails of the ship, and the grey waters it soared upon.
As the heavy rain began to pelt down against the first born's fair complexion, he was barely aware of his own tears mingling with the damp tendrils drizzling down his cheeks, and there he silently wept, for his lost home, his friends, and his beloved family whom he would never see again.
To Be Continued...
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A/N: Though I am not one to beg for reviews, I would like to know if I should continue. I swore I would never write a 'Girl gets dropped into Middle Earth' fic, but this is a more 'Elves get landed in Canada' fic. I tried something a little fresh, please bear with me.
Rating: PG 13
Warning: Violence, racial controversy, swearing/cursing, AU
Summary: After Valinor is destroyed, and the survivors have nowhere else to turn, they find themselves in the mists of a war in Northern America in the 21'st century, and are unwillingly involved in a resistance movement, hiding out in a small colony in the wilds of the forests of Canada.
Author's Note: This is slightly AU. It is rated for violence and racial controversy. Please note that this is fanfiction and I mean no offence to any other cultures and/or religious beliefs. This fic actually derives from a dream I had and it just wouldn't get out of my head until it was written down.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Prologue:
Legolas' head broke through the icy sea water and he sputtered for breath, gasping the clear air into his burning lungs, and was barely aware of the pair of strong hands pulling his soaked form into the small grey ship. His attention was immediately drawn back to the inflamed island of Valinor, and he closed his bright Elven eyes in sorrow, his heart weeping at the dreadful scene.
It had been horrifying, happening before anyone could foresee it. It had been as grand as any other night in the land of Valinor; Not long before the great catastrophe, the people of the fair land had just finished one of their many renowned feasts, and were to retire to their prospective homes, but it was not to be. A gleaming light had suddenly appeared within the night sky, at first appearing as a comet, but a was immediately concluded a threat by many. In panicked vigor, the Elves had scattered, many in too much fear to abide to the Valars' commands to head for the ships. Some were coherent enough and did as they were bid, but others were not so fortunate, their fear, as well as the flying object hurdling towards them, drowning out all comprehension. The Valar had then disappeared, where, they knew not.
The Elves whom were fortunate enough to make it to the boats had barely enough time to push off the sandy shore before the oncoming object struck their lands, rattling the earth with a fury so great that even the fiercest creatures would quake in fear.
Legolas, whom had already been boarded in the first boats, along with Mithrandir, Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, Galadriel and Celeborn, had watched the scene in utter horror, his mouth agape, as the strange metal article collided with their world, spreading destruction throughout its path, and wiping out all life within its reach. The great cloud that accompanied the blast came forward still, and Gandalf barely had enough time to erect his staff and mutter a spell to protect the cramped ship and obstruct the threat before even the great waters rocked against the silver creature's fury. Legolas had been jarred against the railing then, and had fallen overboard into the murky waters.
His saddened orbs wandered to each figure present, anguish apparent in each of their bright, ancient eyes. Celeborn held his wife lovingly against his breast in silent comfort, while Gandalf kneeled at the bow of the ship, head bowed in one withered hand while the other clutched his staff shakily. Erestor's palm was pressed firmly to his forehead, muttering words of denial, and Glorfindel placed a comforting hand on his tense shoulders, though he himself fought to put on a brave face, it was obvious to anyone who knew the warrior that the slouch of his shoulders and the distress upon his handsome face was not merely the resolution of fatigue. And then there was Elrond. The great Elf lord stared grimly at their once majestic home, now in ruins, his wise grey eyes wide with shock, and his lips slightly parted.
What were they to do now? Where were the Valar and why were they unable to stop the attack, and why had they abandoned them so? Would they even come back? Could it be possible that they were all destroyed by this malice? Were there any other survivors?
The latter was answered when Glorfindel's powerful voice bellowed out into the night, calling for any other whom may have survived the blast. They scanned the destroyed island again, as well as the now destroyed boats rocking softly upon the water's waves. All that answered them was silence, and their heads bowed dejectedly.
They were gone. All of them. Legolas' throat suddenly felt very dry, and he found it difficult to breath. Everyone he had known, everyone he had been raised with, were gone. His father and his mother, his brothers, and his friends, they were no more. Gone.
He was drawn from his reverie when he felt a firm hand tilt his chin as Elrond examined him for injuries, and as the waves continued to rock the boat, he was vaguely aware of a light blanket being draped over his shoulders by the Lady Galadriel, while Glorfindel and Erestor set sail at Gandalf's command.
"Come," the old Istar murmured with sorrow griping his ancient voice. "We cannot stay here."
None of them spoke a word, still in shock from the occurrence that had only moments ago destroyed their home in mere seconds. In silent agreement, the Elves and the Istari set off into the north. Why Mithrandir chose that direction, none knew, but all were too flustered to argue.
Legolas curled up near the flank of the ship despondently, resting his chin on his pulled up legs, returning to thoughts of his family, and to thoughts of what was to come. Where now were they headed? Would they return to the world of Men, thousands of years later after their departure? And if so, would Man accept them or would they have to hide their identities?
To ask Mithrandir would only bring on more confusion and riddles, and he doubted anyone else knew, and so he came to the conclusion that the best course of action would be to remain silent and wait and find out.
A bellowing roar of thunder issued across the night sky as clouds began to form, blinding the stars from vision, accompanied with a bright flash of lightening illuminating the white sails of the ship, and the grey waters it soared upon.
As the heavy rain began to pelt down against the first born's fair complexion, he was barely aware of his own tears mingling with the damp tendrils drizzling down his cheeks, and there he silently wept, for his lost home, his friends, and his beloved family whom he would never see again.
To Be Continued...
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
A/N: Though I am not one to beg for reviews, I would like to know if I should continue. I swore I would never write a 'Girl gets dropped into Middle Earth' fic, but this is a more 'Elves get landed in Canada' fic. I tried something a little fresh, please bear with me.