Alright then everybody! I'm Ariel, and there's Ally -points to her- and here we are, doing our first collab fan fic, Whacked! It's rated M for serious language and then later on some rather romantic things...heeheehee! Not THAT romantic, but Maya and Ari certainly have perverted minds! So anyway, all Ari chapters are written by Ally, and all Maya chaps are written by me. Mwuahaha, read and enjoy everyone! P.S. Ally says 'Review! But be warned: Flames will only be used to make veggie burgers!' And you know what? IT'S TRUE, SO NYAHA!
Ariel and Ally
A/N: I don't own Middle Earth or any of its inhabitants, but I do own Leggy! Ok, actually I don't, he's Tolkien's too. But Ari is mine. Based off me, so she's mine. NYAH!
Prologue Part 1
Ari's POV
Evanescence kicks ass. Did you know that? I don't know if you did, because I don't even know who the hell I'm talking to, but you better be listening, or I shall sic my kitty of doom on you!
No, wait. I can't. My kitty of doom is at my dad's house. Back in Nebraska. Which I may never see again. Dammit. I never thought I'd say that about Nebraska, the worst place ever, a place filled with nothing but rednecks and cows. For a vegetarian punk, it's damn near hell. But anyway, I shall quit wishing I was back in California or even back in dumb old Nebraska, because I like where I am! There's males! With pointy ears! And they're damn hot too.
So, anyway. Back to my story. Evanescence kicks ass. It really does. Even ask my twin, Blondie. Ok, she's not really my twin, she's a year older. And her name isn't really Blondie. It's Maya. But who's being technical? She's closer to me than any of our siblings, our younger sister, Megan or our younger brothers, Danny and Brenton. And she's a blonde. Anyone who knows her knows this. Oh, yes.
Dammit, why do I keep getting sidetracked? Anyway. For the third time: Evanescence kicks ass! Surprisingly, my opinion of them hasn't been changed, even though it was an Evanescence concert that started the madness.
Lemme start from the beginning. Ya see, Blondie and I are both addicted to Evanescence, and we'd finally saved enough money to go to an Evanescence concert. We were psyched. The day of the concert didn't come fast enough. But when it did, I was ready and I gotta say, I looked awesome. I had shopped forever for the perfect outfit, and found it: A black mini-skirt with an orange tank top that said Los Angeles County Jail in huge black letters with fishnet armlets and stockings and my shit stomping boots, or as our mom likes to call them, my FMBs. Don't ask. No, really. You don't want to know. But just in case you do, I'll tell you anyway. Our mom has a sick mind, which is probably where Blondie and I got ours. The boots are knee-length black fake leather with a 4 inch stiletto heel, and they apparently reminded Mom of hooker boots. So she made up the nickname of "Fuck Me Boots." It stuck, but we had to shorten it to FMBs so we didn't scar the ickle kiddie-kins for life. Anyway, back to my kick-ass appearance. And I'm not normally this self absorbed, but whatever. I'd finally managed to tame my wild mane of black-streaked blonde curls (or frizzies, actually, but still) into a resemblance of straight. I was thrilled.
So, finally, we got to the concert and were wowed. It was LOUD. And Evanescence sounds so awesome in concert, CDs can't even compare. So, I had the brilliant idea of going into the mosh pit. Yeah, I know, dumbass idea, but hey—I'd just turned 22, and Blondie had just turned 23, so we were gonna take advantage of our drinking abilities. Besides, when the music is pumping, the drums and your heartbeat are the same thing, so my heart was sped up, decreasing oxygen flow to my already minimal brain or some scientifical shit like that, I wouldn't know, Blondie and I both failed high school science. So we went into the mosh pit and partied it out. Until some drunk dumbass decided to throw his beer bottle into the air. Well, obviously, when you're drunk, your coordination isn't the best. The bottle clocked me square on the head. And it was one of those fucking hard glass bottles. Oh yeah, it was night-night time for Ari.
I don't know what happened to Blondie, or if we're dead, or how the hell we got here, but I woke up, and it was dark. And I had one helluva headache. I was ready to damn the president for allowing dumbasses like me to drink. Cause my head hurt like a bloody mother. Then I remembered. The concert. Blondie. Glass hurtling down on my head. Ouch. But I had more things to worry about than a headache induced by a shitload of drinking and being smacked by a beer bottle. Like figuring out where the hell I was, if I was alive, and where the fuck my sister was. "Blondie?" I called into the darkness. No answer. Shit…Mom's gonna kick my ass! I thought. Well, I didn't want that to happen, so I decided to use her real name in my authority voice of doom, which is very scary, even though I'm the younger one. "Maya Katrine Lee!" I yelled out, getting an answer this time. Well, if "Bloody fucking mother!" counts as an answer. Well, one problem was solved. I knew where she was, as I'd just stood up with great difficulty, and…Tripped over her. I'm not the most graceful person in the world. Well, except on the ice, I'd been skating for 18 years. But anyways, I'm not writing about my amazing ice skating skills. But yeah, I tripped over my own sister, which explains why she cussed her brains out. A hangover doesn't make Blondie the most pleasant person in the world, in fact, it makes her speak like more of a drunken sailor than she already did.
"What he hell is going on?" I demanded. Hey, she was older, and besides, she claimed to be the smarter one, even though we were in the same grade and took the same classes. "I don't know, and can you get your fat ass off me, please?" she said irritably. "I have a helluva headache, and fucked up my ankle." I had little sympathy, something normal for me, but made even more clear because of the fact that my head hurt like a mother. "Yeah, well, try getting knocked over the head with a fucking Budweiser bottle. Then see how your head feels," I muttered back. "Anyway, where the hell are we, and what happened? This is NOT the mosh pit, dammit! I didn't even get to see the rest of the concert. I WANT A REFUND, GODDAMNIT!"
At this, Blondie rolled her eyes and said: "Just for the record, I didn't' get to see the rest of the concert either. After Captain Fuckhead threw a bottle at your skull, I knocked his lights out. Bad move…his chum was PISSED. And considering he was like seven fucking feet tall, he had no trouble knocking me out. Mother fucker."
I nodded as my puny brain took in this information. "Wonder where the hell we are. And if I don't get home in time for that skating competition, I swear to God I'll—" I didn't get to finish my rant, because I stopped mid-sentence as a sound approached us. "That sounds like horses. Headed for us. They're horses, and they're headed for us! SHIT!" Apparently, the people or things or whatever the fuck was riding on the horses heard this, because I heard someone talking in a foreign language that sounded almost like the Elvish from Lord of the Rings. But that was impossible. Lord of the Rings books were fiction. They were probably just speaking Swedish or some shit like that, and probably calling me either the equivalent of 'dumbass' or 'bar-room whore' because of my language. But if they were speaking Swedish, how did they understand my slurred, hungover English? Whatever, all this thinking was making my poor blonde and black head hurt even more. The sound of the horses' hooves ceased and I heard light footsteps, almost too light and graceful to be human, coming toward me. I opened my eyes, and was staring into heaven in a human form. Or not human, because the guy looking down at me with concerned blue eyes was too damned hot to be human. Plus he had pointy ears. Which is strange. But whatever. He was hot!
So, the pointy dude started talking to me in the funky Swedish, and all I could say was "What the fuck?" That seemed to do it, because the damn hot pointy guy switched to English. "Who are you? You do not look well, you should not be alone in this forest." Wow, his voice was as sexy as he was! DAMN. But it wasn't enough to soothe poor, injured, hysterical little me. "No shit, Sherlock. I SHOULD be in the mosh pit, getting booze and headbanging along to Evanescence, not being in some fucking forest in God-knows-where. Oh yeah, and I'm Ariadne. But call me that and feel my bitchy wrath. Anyone who doesn't want to feel my wrath calls me Ari." Damn, how's that for flirtatious and approachable? But I didn't care, my head throbbed like a bloody mother.
Just then, another dude got off his horse. He didn't have pointy ears, but he was still sexy. He walked over to the pointy dude and put a hand on his shoulder. So they were gay? Damn it all to fucking hell and back! Or maybe they're not, I hope not, because I would be missing out on some damn hot elfy dude or also damn hot mortal dude. Anyway, the dark-haired non-pointy guy spoke quietly, in English, much to the relief of my poor, battered brain. "What is booze and mosh pits and why were you banging your heads? 'Tis no wonder your head is black and blue. And what is Evanescence?"
Obviously, this guy was one of those computer people who like never saw sunlight. But his skin was tan. Oh, the joys of tanning beds. "Uh, that's one I can't answer because my head hurts like a mother fucker because that dumbass chucked a beer bottle at my poor skull. Fucker," I muttered, before looking at Blondie, who was holding her ankle, and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," repetitively under her breath, but I could almost see the wheels in her brain turning. She was thinking. That was good. Because I sure as hell wasn't.
The blonde dude spoke just when the other guy was about to say something. "Why do you speak in such a way? And why are you dressed in such a fashion?" I looked at him blankly for a minute, then remembered what I was wearing, and also that I was laying on the ground. In a mini-skirt. Shit, I'd probably just flashed everyone within 5 miles. And my shirt advertised that I was a crime just waiting to happen, and I realized that the two were staring at me. "Because I can. And why are you looking at me like that?" Pervs….I thought as the pointy blonde guy talked again. "We are not accustomed to seeing females dressed in such a way," he said, and was that a hint of embarrassment I heard in his voice? He was blushing! HA!
"Wait a second. Who the hell are you two bloody wankers and why do you care who I am?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at them in my best 'You will feel my bitchy wrath shortly' stare. Neither of them appeared fazed. Dammit. The dark haired guy spoke for both of them. His voice was nowhere near as sexy and silky as the pointy guy, but still, he was pretty damn hot. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and this is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."
Even my dumbass brain figured that out. I scooted over toward my fallen sister and said urgently: "Dude. We like got whacked into Tolkien-land!"