Author's note: I believe there has been some confusion.

Kyra Lanthiriel is supposed to be a Mary-Sue. Jeannie's an angsty, dreamy thirteen-year-old who fantasizes about being perfect. I'm not writing a story about Kyra Lanthiriel, the perfect 10th walker who falls in love with Legolas and solves all of Middle Earth's problems with the wave of one perfectly manicured hand. I'm writing a story about Jeannie, an eighth grader with zits who thinks her fantasy of perfection is better than the reality of her life and family. It's a story that's been told before, and better- see Neil Gaiman's Coraline for details. I do hope to at least do something interesting here, but it's not going to be about one girl's perfection either way.

Thanks much,

Eternal Noob

PROLOGUE

Legolas stared in wonder and awe at the breathtaking vision before him. It had been said that Kyra Lanthiriel, daughter of the Valar and heir to the throne of Middle Earth, was the most beautiful girl to ever have existed, but none had ever been able to truly put into words the astounding magnificence of her hair that cascaded over her shoulders like an ever-flowing waterful, or her eyes that sparkled like the twinkling of stars on a cloudless night...

Jeannie hit "Save" and glanced around a little guiltily. Some part of her was always afraid that when she looked up from writing sessions such as this one she would find someone standing over her, gazing intently at what she'd written on the bright screen of the old Hewlett Packard. Fears like that were stupid, of course: if anyone in her family wanted to come in, they would always knock first. Well, except for her blond, gap-toothed five year old sister, but Sandra still had yet to learn to read, despite her mother's liberal uses of Hooked on Phonics and alphabet charts. Nonetheless, Jeannie's minor touch of paranoia persisted. Hence, why she gave a jolt of surprise when her mother called her from downstairs.

"Jeannie! Can you come and take out the trash, please?"

"Okay, I'll be down in a sec!" Jeannie hollered back, before minimizing the window and turning off the monitor for good measure. Kyra Lanthiriel was completely unflappable, she'd already decided. When confronted by the soldiers of the tyrannical Lord Mordred, she would simply sigh and make a wry remark about how tiresome the entire thing was becoming, before proceeding to utterly trounce the entire squadron... without killing a single one.

Leaving her room and closing the door behind her, Jeannie continued to think about her story as she walked down the hallway with its camellia-patterned wallpaper, past her older part-sister's room. After she was finished, Kyra would send the soldiers running back to Lord Mordred, shamefaced, to tell him that his latest attempt to capture her had failed. Or maybe she'd make them switch sides, start working for good instead of evil. Yes. She liked that. Maybe she could even win Lord Mordred over to her side as well...

Lost in thought, Jeannie almost tripped on the slightly raised edge of the third step, barely catching herself in time by grabbing onto the wooden railing. Kyra Lanthiriel, of course, did not trip. It wasn't as though you could measure such things, but all the people who saw her would have agreed that she was one of, if not the, most graceful, best balanced of the already graceful, balanced elves of Middle Earth. It wouldn't be realistic for her to trip, but it certainly wasn't like she saw anything wrong with tripping. She'd be happy to help anyone up who fell in her presence, both literally and figuratively, and ensure that they got whatever assistance they needed... though of course, she would never be so foolish as to let someone just leech off of her.

She wouldn't be afraid of trash and filth either, Jeannie thought crossly as she plucked the bag out of the can, holding it with the tips of her fingers. The smell emanating from it told her immediately that her mother must have just changed six month old Irene's diaper. Ugh. Gross. Why her mother had decided to have another kid when she'd already had three was totally beyond her comprehension.

How many kids would Kyra Lanthiriel have? Jeannie wondered, gravel crunching under her sandals as she walked down the driveway. Maybe a few, and then she'd adopt a few more abused children, give them the childhood they'd been denied...

Off to the right, two little boys- or at least they looked like little boys- were chattering to each other in whispers behind the hedge.

"wht d0 u tihnk?" the first one remarked, absent-mindedly tweaking a leaf. A brand-new iPod dropped onto the ground a few feet away, but neither of them took any notice.

The second one moved a branch out of the way to get a better look at the blonde thirteen year old as she opened the lid of the trash can, wrinkling her nose at the rush of stinking air.

"kind4 skinnny, u tihnk she'l b gud enuogh?"

"shez young. he lieks thm young. mor life, he sez. adn we dont hav time 2 l00k 4 anyb0dy els, aldrich. hez alreadyy impashent."

Aldrich bit his lip and threw one last glance over at the girl.

"i tihnk shez ok then. u want 2 call in teh jumprz?/"

"ya"

Jeannie made as if to wipe her hands on her shorts, but stopped, not wanting to get the disgustingly sticky trash can residue all over herself. She was just turning around to walk back up to her house, when an ear-splitting shriek sounded directly behind her.

What the-

Something hard slammed violently into her back, sending her flying. She saw the ground and the sky flash before her eyes in slow motion, but it was as though she was paralyzed and a great darkness was already looming before her, struggling to swallow her up...