Disclaimer: no, my name is not Tolkien, and middle-earth isn't mine.

Chapter uno: Who Are You?

Leslee Denem was doing the dishes on a warm summer evening. She had not particularly liked the dinner her mom had made, though she contributed that to her cold she was still getting over, so she finished quickly, not taking her time like she normally liked to do, and stuffed a few cereal bars and a soda in her back pack which she thankfully had left downstairs when her best friend Robert had come over that afternoon. She silently slipped down the hallway and up the stairs, being careful not to catch the eye of her mother who was playing the piano furiously in attempt to learn the piece that she needed to be able to play at a choir competition the next day. Leslee didn't like that her mom worked at Centennial, her school's biggest rival, but at the moment it was distracting her from seeing her sneak food up to her bedroom. 'The home stretch,' she thought as she neared the top of the stairs and turned into the upstairs hallway. She realized that she needed to use the bathroom, which was across the hall from her door, but worried that the stolen goodies might be found out if she didn't put them away first. 'If I can just get my backpack into my-'

But she was cut off by a sharp feeling in her back. It knocked the wind out of her and she gave a strangled gasp of surprise and pain. It felt like someone had sunk a dagger between her shoulder blades, and she could almost feel the blood running down her back. She was confused at the feeling, but didn't have much time to think about it as she fell forward. Her vision dimmed, and she was vaguely aware that her knees had not hit the cotton carpet of her room, but the leaf carpet of a forest, just before she lost consciousness.

She awoke to find a strange man standing over her. "Damn," she heard him say. He was glaring at her. She was slightly hurt at the way he had cursed at her, but the throbbing in her head and back wouldn't let her think clearly. "What's going on?" she tried to ask, but all that came out was a bloody bubble that popped and splattered all over her face. She thought she was going to be sick, but she forced it down when she found that the man's foot on her stomach wouldn't let her roll over, and she didn't feel like drowning in her own puke at the moment. "Disgusting wench," the man muttered and lifted his sleeve to roughly wipe the blood from her cheeks. She didn't like the feeling of this guy and tried to turn away from him, but his other hand held her firmly in place. Her head was whirling in confusion, but her voice wasn't working in the least, so she could not voice her questions.

"You were supposed to die, but I guess I underestimated your strength, so you'll just have to come with me," he stated in a low growl. He seemed thoroughly annoyed that she even dared breathe in his presence when he wanted her dead. He grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her into a sitting position. She clenched her teeth and hissed in pain at the sudden movement, but realized that it wasn't from her back where she remembered being stabbed by lord knows what, but from her shoulders where she had gotten a bad sunburn from her swim class earlier that day –if was even the same day. She didn't know how long she'd been out, and went to look at her watch, only to find that her hands were bound behind her back, as well as her knees. He looked down at her. "What's wrong with you?" he asked indignantly. She looked back, then turned her head in defiance as if to say that the pain he'd inflicted was nothing. He knelt down from his standing position, and slipped a hand under her black short-sleeved vest, and slid it off her shoulder to reveal the straps of her white cami shirt and bra, which contrasted with the redness of her burnt flesh.

"What are you doing?" she managed to say hoarsely as she looked at him in horror.

"What in Middle-Earth is wrong with your skin?" he asked, almost fascinated with it. His hand lightly cupped her shoulder, feeling the warmth that still insisted on radiating from the spot. She looked down at the hand, and shivered at his touch. She didn't know why though, but she didn't really think about it. She had caught the expression he used to ask about the burn.

"It's called a sunburn. Surely you have heard of one? Or maybe you're too enthused with your Lord of the Rings book to know much about the real world," she said rather bitterly, but was glad that her voice was coming back to her. She should have been happy to know that they shared a common obsession, but she quickly reminded herself how rough he had been with her a few moments ago, and her anger was rekindled.

The man blinked, and narrowed his eyes in suspicion at her. He spat something at her in another language, drawing his sword, and putting it to her gut. She gasped as he took her throat in his free hand. Tears started to well up in her eyes in frustration and confusion, and they were dangerously close to spilling over. "Who sent you?" he asked, anger ringing in his voice. Her heart was caught in her throat, and she found that she could barely breathe, let alone speak. "Answer me!" he yelled as he shook her slightly. The tears began to run, fleeing from the sight her eyes were showing her, and she wished that she could run too. She didn't understand why he was so upset with her, but was thankful that he released her when she began to cry.

"Heh..." he smirked, "I thought too highly of you. You're far to weak to be a spy."

"Weak?" she croaked," If you hadn't snuck up on me and bound my hands, I would have kicked the crap out of you, you sneaky bastard!" She glared at him, "but I am no spy. I can't believe you'd even think that. Pig..."

He got control of his emotions and regained most of his composure. He was still steaming, but the lost look in her eyes told him that she had not a clue why he'd attacked her. Why had his father wanted her anyways? He leaned down to her face, looking deep into her eyes and almost laughed at the look she was giving him. She looked like a lost puppy. She was pretty, for a human, with thick, wavy blonde hair that had fallen out of the tie it was in, flowing down her back like a golden river, and a few strands in her face. He went to move them behind her curved ear, but she flinched at his quick and fluid movements. "SShh..." he tried to calm her. He slid them back and out of her eyes, and wiped her tears with his thumb. He noticed that he could see himself reflected in her deep green-blue eyes.

She knew that he was looking her over so she looked him over as well. He had long straight blonde hair that stayed neatly behind his sturdy shoulders. He had ice blue eyes and flawless skin and lips. She finally realized that he was leaning closer, and she blinked. He stopped at this as he figured out what was happening. "Forgive me," he whispered and stood up. He helped her to her feet, and undid the bindings on her knees so that she could walk. He took her elbow and led her to a cave on a hillside. There was a small fire in the entrance and he sat her by it. She crossed her legs and looked around. There wasn't much, just a bed mat, a crude kind of mesh kit, a cloak, and-

"My backpack," she whispered.

"Yes, but don't worry. I was going to wait until after you were dead to go through it. But I guess it will be easier this way."

"So that's why you cursed. You really did want me dead."

"No," he corrected, "my father wants you dead, but will be glad enough to see you alive, so long as you are captured."

"Who wants me dead?" she asked confused. What had she done to make someone want to kill her?

"The king of Mirkwood," he stated simply. She started to laugh at him and he turned to face her.

"Right, and I'm the elf queen of Gondor!"

He cocked his head at her. "You don't believe me?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because, Greenleaf, if that is your name, then we must be where? Amon Hen? There is no such place."

"So you are imagining the hills around us?"

"No, we're simply not in Middle-earth."

"Well, we are not in the Grey Havens, so where else would we be?"

"I don't know; I'm the one that has been unconscious for lord knows how long. You tell me."

"We are on Amon Hen."

"Oh yeah, then where's the rest of the fellowship, hmm?"

"The fellowship has been over for a century now. I was just coming from Gondor, from visiting with King Elessar."

"Liar."

"I never lie."

"Liar."

He chuckled to himself.

"So really, who are you?"

"I am Legolas of Mirkwood."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Come on, really!"

"If you are so eager to know my name, then why don't you tell me yours?"

She gawked at him. "You mean to tell me that you tried to kill me when you didn't even know my name?!? How do you know I'm the one you want?!?"

"Because," he said calmly, tending to the fire all the while he spoke, "you were described to me, and besides, how many young human women are running around Amon Hen?"

"I wasn't 'running around Amon Hen,' Baka! Idiot I was in my hallway at home!"

He ignored her comment, "Well, what would you have me call you?"

She thought for a moment, hoping to trick him. "Hmm...I dunno, how about...Melathronin?"

"M-Melathronin?" he stuttered, but quickly gained control of his voice. He laughed a little, "You are trying to find me out, aren't you? Well, I am who I say, whether you believe me or not. Now, what shall I call you, because last I checked, you were my prey, not my lover."

"Prey? Oh, so I'm an animal now, am I? Call me gazelle then, for that is all I am to you."

"Well, I know not what a gazelle is, so I will have to call you something else."

"It's what a lion hunts."

"Lion?"

"A really big cat."

"You're calling me a cat?" he asked as he raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I am. All you need is the tail and the ears."

"Well, I already have the ears. Almost," he said with a smirk. She was really quite amusing, even if she was trying to insult him.

She looked up at him and gasped as she saw that his ears were indeed pointed. So he really was an elf!

He came around to her and put his hand under her chin to gently close her mouth that had been hanging open. "It's not good to stare."

"How is this- how is this possible?" she wanted to reach out and touch them, but since her hands were bound, she sat up on her knees, inspecting them closely. She didn't realize how close their bodies were as her eyes drank them in. "How odd," she whispered, completely enthused. But the sound of his voice brought her back to reality.

"Milady?"

"Huh?" she asked as she leaned far enough away so as to look at him.

"You've never seen an elf before, have you?" He noticed that her eyes were a little unfocused.

"Did you just call me lady?" she asked incredulously as she shook her head and sat back on her calves, almost falling over in the process. "Don't call me that. I'm far from being royal."

"Well, I could tell that by your clothes," he said indicating her garb. She had to admit; she didn't look very prestigious in her now dirty black pants, sandals and vest, and white cami. "But I still don't know what to call you."

"Anything but 'milady'. I really don't care."

"How about...Rastenmenla?"

"Rastenmenla? That's pretty long."

"It means 'fallen angel.'"

"That's a little off, but okay. I guess you can call me Menla for short."

"Alright, Menla, tell me something."

"What?"

"Why won't you give me your name?"

"Because if I escape then you can't ask around for me. Why do you insist on tying my hands, anyways?"

"For that precise reason. My father will have my head if I don't bring you back."

"Now that I believe. Not that I care, but then again, who would?" He glared at her, and she laughed at the fuming anger in his eyes. She knew she'd struck home.

"Well then, I don't see anyone looking for you, or calling your name, and it's been three days since I sent that arrow through your heart!"

She blinked, not expecting such an onslaught, but quickly recovered. She gave him a "Feh" and turned her head.

"If you even have a heart," he muttered. She lay down on her side, her back to him.

"I can love. It's not impossible you know."

"And have you loved? Or is it just talk you speak of?"

She rolled onto her stomach when her arm started to fall asleep. "Yeah, I have."

"Who?"

"Nunya."

"Nunya?"

"Nunya business."

"Hmp."

"Don't 'Hmp' me."

"I think you're lying."

"I'm not."

"Then who is it?"

"Ulch! You don't even know the meaning of love!"

"Enlighten me."

"Pervert."

"Slut."

"EXCUSE ME?!?!?" She turned her head to glare at him, "You are not the Legolas I have read about if you would assume such a thing!"

"So you haven't loved then?"

"You're not talking about love, you're talking about lust. There's a big difference!"

"Then what is love?"

"Love is when you would get between someone and the bullet. There are quite a few people I can think of that I would do that for."

"Bullet?"

"Arrow."

"That's not love, that's loyalty."

"Then you tell me what love is, genius."

He was silent for a while, and when he spoke, he had changed the topic. "We will be in Lothlorien by noon tomorrow, so I need to go through your things now."

"You're serious? I thought you were joking."

"I'm not, so please cooperate and explain each thing when I take it out."

"Why do you have to search it?"

"One, to make sure that you carry no weapons, and two, wouldn't you rather me go through it now, and vouch for you, then have all of Lothlorien going through it?"

"I hate it when you're right," she said, sitting up while he brought her backpack over to the fire. He unzipped the larger of the two zippers, and took out a composition notebook and a small spiral bound blue note book, and held them up for explanation. "That's my fanfic and quotes from my friends. There are a few short stories in the blue one too."

"Fanfic?"

"It's a spin off of the fellowship. I wrote what might happen if there were ten members, instead of nine."

"I don't think I understand."

"I added a character to your story. It's from the point of view of the only woman in the group."

"You added a woman? That's unheard of." He was a little taken aback that she would write something like that. "And you call it a fanfic?"

"Yeah, but I guess here it would be called screwing with history. Next item please." He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and brought out another notebook. "That's my sketch book. You'll mostly find anime stuff in there. It's a way of drawing," she added at his look of confusion, "Next." He took out two more composition notebooks, one green, one black. "The black one is just randomness. I have all sorts of things in there, stories, notes, song lyrics. I think I might even have a drawing of Inu Yasha near the middle." He flipped to the middle and sure enough, there was a drawing of the awesome dog demon. "And the green one is my math notebook, though I have a lot of drawings in there too. You'd be surprised how many jokes you can make out of geometry." He was utterly lost as he flipped through the pages, so he put it down and moved to the next thing. He pulled out a small book this time, with a couple on the cover. "That's my Romeo and Juliet book. We're studying it in my English class." He found that the large section of the backpack was empty, so he unzipped the smaller one. He took out the soda can and held it up. "That would be a drink, though I doubt you would like it. The carbonation might be a bit too much for your stomach to handle." He put it down, the building confusion getting quite frustrating. He took out the two cereal bars. "That's breakfast to go. They're really good, especially when you don't have much time to eat." He brought out a packet of gum, "That's what you use when you don't have time to brush your teeth," and a pile of pens, "The equivalent of your quills, I guess. You use them to write with." He put everything back into the backpack, and sat there for a moment, staring into the fire, deep in thought.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he finally asked, not looking up at her.

"No crap, Sherlock," she said sarcastically, "You really think I could have gotten all that stuff in Middle-earth? That's why I didn't believe you when you said we were on Amon Hen. To my people, that place doesn't exist. It's just a fairy tale." He looked up at her. "To us, Legolas is just some elf in a fictional book that every girl in their right mind would want to meet. But no one has, because he's unreal. Just a figment of our imagination."

He couldn't really think of what to say to this. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. He shook his head, as if to say the idea was preposterous.

"But if you are Legolas, and we really are on Amon Hen, then I'm glad I'm here with you. It's better than what I have to deal with back home. I don't exactly get along with my family."

He allowed himself a grin, even though he was far from understanding. "We share something then, for I don't exactly get along with my father either. I simply do his biddings now to avoid confrontation, though even that doesn't always work."

"I know what you mean. I can never please my parents. They always want more. I could be perfect and they'd still find something wrong with me."

"My father as well. He would probably say that I thought too highly of myself, if I were perfect."

"Or that I make them look stupid when they stand next to me," she laughed, and he did as well.

"It seems that we are both running, doesn't it? We are both longing for escape."

"I think I've found mine. That is, if I don't go home. If I do, I'll right back to square one. They'll most likely say that I ran away, and won't let me out of the house again."

"You may stay as long as you like. I will not send you back to such a place."

"Yet you take me to my death," she said with a sly grin. "Well I would go willingly, if it meant not having to go back. They probably think me dead anyways."

He was surprised at this comment, and remembered that if she did stay, that she would surely die, and most likely by his own hands. He would not put it past his father to force him to do his father's dirty work. She yawned and stretched as best she could with her hands still tied.

"Well, I think I should go to sleep. I want to leave bright and early for Lothlorien." And with that she lay back down and slept.

A/n: man is Legolas out of character! But we still love him! Hugs him so tight his face goes blue anyways, this is going to be kind of odd, and there will probably be a few more long dialogue thingies, like this chapter, but it will be a short story, and as of right now, I have absolutely no idea where it's going, so if you've got any ideas please send them in reviews. Hope you like it! (At least I'm having fun, right?)