Title: Foreign Elf

Rating: PG-13

Summary: He was certain about who he was, about what he did and about where he belonged. But suddenly that changes and he has to embark on a journey not only to fulfill his master's wish but also to find out who he truly is.

Disclaimer: I admit it /sight/, I am J. R. R. Tolkien. Changed my gender, my nationality, erased all my memories, found immortality, am again 19 years old. I have written 'The Lord of the Rings' and all those other books, so the characters are mine. I faked my own death and then became Peter Jackson for a few years and made movies from my own books. So they belong to me as well. Now, with all the millions that I have earned, I pay this guy who pretends to be PJ, but in truth isn't. .... Yeah, sure. Unfortunatedly NOT true. I don't write books or make movies, nor belong any of the characters of those books and movies to me. However, the characters not from those books and movies I have invented freely. They are not made to represent real people or circumstances. And they are MINE. My Own. My Precious. Gollum, Gollum. /lol/

Warnings: Implied slash. That's all up till now. If there should be any other warn-worthy material in later chapters, I'll warn you then for the specific chapter.

Chapter I

He lay on his side, legs intertwined with those of the creature behind him. His body still felt a little off and shaky from their last round of pleasure, his heart still beat faster than it normally would and his skin was over sensitive, feeling every little wrinkle of the bed sheets under him and the soft hair and skin of the one behind him.

A hand was tenderly and leisurely wandering over his chest, circling his nipples, but not quite arousing him again. He breathed in deeply and let the air out slowly. The last half an hour had left him quite exhausted, but as he thought back and replayed in his mind all that had happened he could not suppress a smile. If only every day would end like this...

"I take it you enjoyed it?" The soft whisper rushed over him, accompanied by a feeling of desire that rushed through him like a hot wave. When the feeling left him he felt almost empty, like a dry lake, lacking that which made it what it was. He could not suppress a shudder, but then the warm voice and feeling were back.

"Shh. I'm here. Don't be afraid, I won't leave you." There was a little pause and then it continued in a more thoughtful way. "Though we will be...parted for a time."

He tensed. Parted? For a time? Why should they be parted? And how long was 'for a time'? For immortals time did not mean as much as for mortals who only had a finite amount of it. 'For a time' could be minutes, hours, days, years, decades, centuries- Her forced his panicked thoughts to stop. Surely, they would not part for very long. Or would they? But before he could calm himself enough to pose the questions lying on his tongue they were already answered.

"I know what you fear. But as you said yourself, time doesn't mean very much to us. Even if we were parted for a hundred years, they would pass and we would be together again. Always remember, you have time. You have as much time as you take. Never let anyone rush you into anything. Patience can win wars.-"

"-Time is our greatest weapon. I know, but it is still hard. Even for an immortal one hundred years are one hundred years, no matter how long he may live."

"Yes, quite true. For young ones such as yourself. Once you are old enough, your understanding of time will change. But enough of such talk. We have to discuss other matters."

The hand retreated from his chest and the legs untangled themselves from his. He felt the bed shift as his master sat up and did so as well, turning around in the process so that he could face his counterpart who was now leaning on the finely sculptured wooden headboard. After waiting for a moment he couldn't rein his curiosity any longer and fingered the bed sheets nervously, looking down on his hand.

"You plan to leave?" he asked tentatively.

"No."

No? Puzzled, he finally looked up, tilting his head questioningly.

"You are going to leave."

He blinked. "I am? But...but where will I go? What do you want me to do?" He dared not ask any more questions for he could already see his master growing impatient. But the questions didn't stop spinning around in his head.

"You will leave tomorrow, but you will go around Ered Lithui in the east. The way from Minas Morgul is watched by too many unfriendly eyes, observing everything that passes the gates. When you have left Mordor you will travel all the other lands and gather information. I want to know what our enemies are doing, whether they have something that belongs to me, and if they do what they plan to do with it. You will be my eyes and ears outside of Mordor."

"Why me? I am not qualified for such a task. Never have I left our lands, neither have I met most of the races that I will encounter on this mission. And even with those that I have met I do not have much experience. I would no-"

"Do you doubt me?"

He winced at the harsh voice and felt an imaginary knife twist in his entrails. Frightened, he could only shake his head but kept his gaze fixed on the bed sheets separating them.

"You will do as I told you. And you will not fail; you have not done so in the past and you will not start now on your first important mission. Understood?"

"Aye, my Lord."

"Very well. Tomorrow, at first light, you will leave. Only come back when you have gathered enough information. The faster you do so, the faster you will be coming home."

He didn't look up, but he tracked his lord with his senses as he got out of bed, donned a robe and then left the room. Softly he let himself fall back again so that he came to lie on his back, staring at the dark ceiling. His thoughts were in uproar, imagining how his quest would turn out. He was to travel all lands of middle earth – that would take years! Even though on the maps everything looked small and near in truth it could take you weeks to travel distances that you thought would only take days. And he didn't even know these lands. He would have to travel without any maps, for his master didn't take it kindly if you did take one of them out of the library let alone out of Mordor.

On the other hand, never had he been given a task that he had found himself unable to fulfill. Sometimes they had been challenging and exhausting, but, as his master had said, he had never failed. This time he would not fail either.

His mind made up, he was able to fall asleep, albeit fitfully, dreaming of all that could happen to him outside of his master's realm.

xxxxx

When he woke the next morning it was still dark outside, the sun not having peaked over the horizon yet. He was not sure what had wakened him, but he was grateful that he had, for being late would be punished. However, it took him a moment to remember for what he should not be too late. Today was the day of his departure, the day when he would leave the land in which he had lived for all his life. Slowly he sat up, the rumpled bed sheets curling around his hips, and rubbed his eyes. A hot wind blew through his open window into the barely lit room, nearly extinguishing the few lit candles standing on a massive stone table at the far wall and swirling his long locks over his shoulder. Even though the wind was too warm for comfort it was at least a bit cooler than the air that was not moved by a light breeze.

He sighted deeply, and, knowing he could not avoid his departure, if he sat in his bed any longer, but would only attract his master's wrath, got up and went over to the wash basin standing in a corner and cleaned himself. After finishing and drying himself off he got into the cloths that were lying on a huge armchair. At first he hesitated, for the garments were unlike anything he had ever seen. There were grey, formfitting leggings, a grey-green tunic with a green undershirt and brown buskins. After he had put them all on he discovered that there was also a dark grey woollen cloak. At least that last addition to his new wardrobe felt somewhat like the wide black clothes he was used to. Then he quickly brushed his hair and went to look for his master.

Feeling strange and out of place in those new garments, he fidgeted and fumbled with them. But when he knocked at the door to his master's room he stopped. Surely he would not approve of his nervousness. When he heard something that sounded vaguely like a 'yes', he opened the door and entered the room. It was dark in here, even darker than in the hallway, which was astonishing, considering that this room had several windows which the hallway had not. The darkness seemed to come from the air itself. His master was standing at one of the windows and gazing out, not bothering to turn around to greet his guest who silently entered and, after closing the huge door behind him, stood in the middle of the great room.

"Are you ready to depart?" his master asked, still looking out of the window.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good. You can take one of the horses. I heard you could handle them."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord." He paused a moment, waiting if his master had anything else to tell him, but everything stayed quiet. "If there isn't anything else, I am going now, my Lord."

The dark figure at the window nodded once. "Do not come back without the information I seek. You will know what it is when you have found it."

"Yes, my Lord." He bowed and quietly left the room.

The dark creatures he met in the hallways avoided him, looking down and pressing themselves to the cold walls, but when he entered the stables he felt as if he had entered a different world. Even though there was not very much light in this building due to the heavy clouds hanging in the sky, the air, the whole atmosphere was totally different. It smelled of hay, of leather and of horses, and he could hear the low rustling of the animals moving on the dry hay covering the ground in their stalls, the swishing of their tails and the low and even grinding of their teeth as they champed on the dry grass that they got to eat. He closed his eyes and took in the peace of the stables. When he opened his eyes once more several dark horse heads were swinging over the doors of their respective stalls, their ears pointing to him and their big, dark brown eyes looking at him.

A slow smile spread over his lips and he started to go down the long gangway, greeting every horse right and left. Finally he stopped in front of one stall. At first glance the horse that occupied it was no different than all the others. But it was taller than the others, its legs long but none the less powerful, its wavy mane reaching the underside of its strong neck. Its head was huge, but befitting its equally huge stature. Its soft, silky pelt was midnight black and shone in the little reddish light that reached into the stables. The beautiful black animal seemed to embody grace and power as it moved in its stall towards its visitor, who softly crooned at it as it brushed him with its soft nostrils.

"I have a task to fulfill. Do you think you'd come with me, my friend? You could see many new lands, different from this one. Would you like that?" He laughed as the horse whinnied softly as if it had understood him. "All right, all right. Just a moment, I've got to open this door..." The fumbled with the latch but it would not come free, so he pulled at it with all his weight. Suddenly it broke and he stumbled back a few steps, for he had pulled so hard.

He saw the horse using the opportunity and walking out of its stall, but when it made for the entrance of the stable he quickly jumped on its back. The horse shook its head and then he could feel as its hind legs tensed. It was only a second, but to him it felt like a small eternity, then horse and rider surged forward, propelled by powerful legs.

Then they were out of the stables, soon out of the courtyard, then flying over the huge and seemingly endless fields of black stone. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, that he was already on his way. He felt a pang of regret, but then he just enjoyed their fast pace, the feeling of his horse moving underneath him, its powerful muscles rippling under the skin. He let the horse set their speed, only steering it in the right direction.

As they rode to the east, in the direction he could have seen the sun rise, were it not for the dark clouds of ash that hang over the lands of Mordor day and night, it did not take long for him to grow bored. There was not much to be seen, even if he had not known this land already. Black stones, black boulders and more black stones. Here and there he could glimpse tiny flowers or dry bushes. But they were either already dead or they would be soon. It was a small miracle that they had once lived at this place at all. Somehow that saddened him, why, however, he did not know.

As his thoughts turned back to the mighty stallion moving underneath him, he suddenly realized that his horse did not have a name. What should he call it for example in a case of emergency? Just 'Horse'? No, he would need another name. His horse was black, so perhaps 'burzum', 'darkness'? It would fit, in a way, but he had made the experience that the horses did not react to the dark tongue very well. Perhaps he should not choose a name describing its color, but something else.

"Thala!" He jerked back upon hearing his voice aloud. He had not meant to speak out loud. Carefully, he looked around, but could not detect any orc, warg or other living thing nearby. Then he thought about what he had said. 'Thala' meant 'strong' or 'steadfast', but it was no word of the dark tongue, neither of the common tongue. So where had it come from and, more importantly, where did he know it from and how could he translate it, even though he didn't even know the language? But apart from its unknown origin it was a good description of his horse. It would be a good name for the animal.

He bent forward and patted the side of Thala's neck. "Would you like the name 'Thala'? It's a good, strong name. Befitting a great stallion such as yourself, don't you think?" As a positive answer, Thala whinnied and threw his head up and down. "Alright, I'm glad you're with me, Thala." He had to laugh softly as Thala slowed his pace and started to dance around, positively glowing with pride and joy.

xxxxx

Slowly and carefully they made their way up the steep slope of the mountain, as they had done already for the last one and a half days. They used an old and now dry riverbed, for it was the best and easiest way. The slope was never too steep for Thala, though he did not ride the stallion anymore but walked beside, in front or behind him. The riverbed was not steep enough to be dangerous, but he did not want to tire his steed out by letting him carry his weight as well. Thala was a strong horse, but even he had his limits.

A few hours ago that point had been driven home to him as the smooth, round stones under his and Thala's combined weight had given way and suddenly started to roll down the riverbed, starting a small avalanche. They had had luck, for Thala had jumped to the side and off the dangerous stones. However, he nearly had not made it, for he had been very tired from carrying his rider, who since then opted for walking, albeit carefully. His eyes always scanned the ground in front of him, careful to not again walk on these dangerous little stones that could roll away from underneath you any moment.

Thus, he was surprised when he found no further slope to climb up, but instead a flat expanse of solid rock and on the other side a slight incline. They had finally reached the summit. He heard a high cry and looked up. There, high above them, circled an eagle, gliding on warm ascending winds. Suddenly, the eagle changed directions, dove down towards the ground and disappeared behind a nearby cliff to their right. But it did not take long and the eagle appeared again with something in its beak, soaring high over their heads and flying away to their left.

He shook his head, the wind blowing his long hair like a banner behind him. "That was something, hm, Thala? But do not worry, you're too big for the eagle." But Thala did not understand him and only looked at him intently. "Ah, well. Let's make our way down there. We have taken a shortcut and went over the Ered Lithui instead of going around it, but if we stay here much longer, it would have been shorter to take the other way."

With that he turned around and took a first view at the lands outside of Mordor. From this high he could not make out anything specific, but what he did see, took his breath away. Before them lay a huge expanse of brown grasslands with lonely trees here and there. It looked much lighter, the sun shining down and making the grass appear like a sea of gold. The wind that blew from these grass plains carried a sweet smell, the smell of life. He heard Thala taking a deep breath next to him and looked at his four legged companion. The horse was looking around, taking in the view before him.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He whispered, in awe. "That's where we're going. I think you don't regret that you've come with me, do you?" He reached out and stroked Thala's shoulder, and then they made their way down the mountains.

He realized the way down was more difficult than the way up. Not only did they not see the terrain before them as clearly as when they had been ascending the mountain, but also was the view down the steep mountain flank quite frightening. Since they could not see clearly if the ground before them was dangerous or not, he opted to still walk beside and not ride his mount.

As they came nearer to the foot of the mountain, they saw that the grass on the plain was not dead, but only dry. For one who has grown up with trees, green grass and flowers, the huge expanse of dry grass would be boring, but for someone who had lived in a land that was composed of a vulcano and lots of black rock this view was exhilarating. So many living plants he had never seen before, and he thought that there could not be anything more beautiful than this. He could hardly wait to finally get down the mountain and into those fields of grass. Thala seemed to think so as well and started to quicken his pace, which had immediate results.

The many little stones beneath Thala's hooves started to roll down the sleek plate of rock underneath, and Thala lost his footing. He tried to back up when he realized that he was sliding forward, but that only loosened more stones which again loosened more stones. The field of rolling stones became wider and wider until both horse and rider were sliding around, trying to back up and to the side in order to escape the avalanche Thala had started. But slowly they were loosing, picking up speed as they slid down the mountain on the little stones. Their movements and attempts to escape the rolling stones became panicked but did not have any effect at all.

With dread they saw that the stones rolling before them suddenly disappeared, falling over a cliff. They struggled even harder, but to no avail. The cliff came nearer and nearer and then they were falling. Strangely detached from the happening around him he realized that the cliff was not very high, only around fifteen feet. But as soon as that realization trickled through his thoughts he hit the ground hard. A sharp pain flashed through his awareness before everything became first grey and then black.

xxxxx

Slowly his memory came back to him. Around him it was still black, but after a moment he realized that that was because his eyes were closed. Strangely, he seemed to lie on something soft and even. As far as he remembered he had fallen off a cliff and onto stones. Since his muddled brain could not think of an explanation he decided to open his eyes. That, however, was far more difficult than he had thought. His eyelids were very heavy and as soon as he had opened his eyes to thin slits they burned. He closed them again and then tried again. He had to blink several times but finally he had his eyes open.

With opened eyes it was not much lighter than with his eyes closed. He was about to panic when he saw a wooden beam above him. He quickly turned his head to see more of his surroundings, but his sight became foggy. After a few moments, however, it turned back to normal. Now he could make out more wooden beams on the ceiling and wooden walls on all four sides. To his left was a window, but its shutters were closed. Only two thin beams of light could penetrate the darkness though slits between the shutters and the window frame. One of them fell on a door on the other side of the room to his right. The little room was only sparely furnished with a crude table under the small window and an equally crudely made cupboard on the far wall. As he looked around he realized that he himself was indeed not lying on hard stones but on a soft but narrow bed. The mattress was only a little wider than his shoulders, but that did not impede its comfort.

Even though the furniture was of no fine quality, it was held clean, no dust collecting on the surfaces. So someone had to live there or at least come by very often and clean the room. Perhaps this someone was currently there and could tell him where he was.

Slowly he sat up in bed. As expected, his sight became cloudy once more, but as he did not move anymore, it cleared again. However, now that he moved, he felt a sharp pain in his left leg and in his head. Also, a soft sound, like wind blowing, rushed in his ears. A soft moan escaped him as the pain in his leg mounted to new heights as he shifted it to his side and over the side of the bed. He saw black spots dance in his vision from the pain.

His resolve to find out where he was, however, was not weakened. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself for the pain to come he quickly stood up, placing his weight on his right leg. His vision swam and he felt as if he was falling, the pain in his left leg felt as if it were ripped off and the slight pain in his head now felt as if someone had cleaved his head into two. Quickly he held out his hands in front of him, and not too late, for he made hard contact with the wall. He leaned his head on the wall, pressing his forehead into the hard wood to quell the pain. His eyes were tightly closed and his breath came in rapid gasps.

He stayed still for a while until the pain had receded back to a tolerable level. When he could focus on his surroundings again instead of on his pain he opened his eyes. He now realized that his whole body was hurting, but not quite as bad as his left leg and his head. He must have broken his leg and hit his head when he fell off the cliff. Everything else must be scrapes and bumps, he thought.

As he looked around he realized that he was leaning on the wall next to the window. Deciding that a look outside could perhaps help him discern where he was he moved in front of the window and pushed against the shutters. They opened easily and bright light streamed into the room, blinding him. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, but then he could see a narrow, dirty street with many people walking up and down. A horse was led by in the direction of a smith's shop on the opposite side of the street. The many people, mostly women with children, still warm bread under their arms, talked and made quite some noise. He wondered how he had failed to hear it before. There also lingered a disgusting smell in the air and as he looked down he saw where it came from. At the side of the street, along the walls of the houses, excrements lay, probably thrown out if the windows.

Quickly he shut the window again shrouding the room into darkness once more, but also locking out the noise and the smell. Slowly he turned around and let himself fall back onto the bed. So he was in a town. A town of Men no less. He had no idea of where he was. He certainly was not where he and Thala had fallen off the cliff. For a moment his thoughts stayed with his horse, wondering if it was still alive. But he knew the answers to all his questions lay with his rescuer, probably also the owner of the house he found himself in. Figuring that the fastest way to get the answers to his questions was to find this Man, he again stood up and braced himself against the wall. He breathed deeply in hopes that the pain and nausea would recede more quickly. Then he slowly made his way to the door on the other side of the room. Since he still felt quite unsteady on his feet he walked along the walls, leaning against them.

When he finally reached the door, he opened it and peered out. He looked right and left, but did not see anyone. As he hobbled out of the room he found himself in a narrow corridor, with three doors on either side. His door was at one end of the corridor, so he made his way down to the other end, opening doors and peering inside as he went. At last he opened a door to the kitchen. It had a huge table in the middle and a big man was sitting on a chair that looked as if it would quit its service and break down any moment. The man was eating a slice of bread, but quickly stood up when he saw his patient in the door.

He hastily put down his bread and, shoving back the old chair, quickly strode over to the door and led his patient to another chair that looked even older, talking all the while. "Ye shoulna be up. Yer leg's broken an' needs more rest. But how d'ye feel? Hungry? Ah, I'll make ye a bread. Here's a bit o' water." The man had walked over to where a bucket sat on the floor and dunked a wooden cub in the water. Bringing it over to the table he continued to talk, seemingly not even pausing to take a breath and speaking very fast, making it difficult to understand. "Ye've been sleepin' fer t'ree days now. Found ye on the way from Morannon in an avalanche. Nasty, those. Can be lucky, ye survived an' only have a broken leg ta tell off it. Where did ye come from, anyway? Never seen one of yer folk here.Only heard stories about ye. Did ye wanna come here or go farther east? But I'd watch for those dark creatures from Mordor. Jus' yesterday the boy from next door was killed by 'em."

The man did not speak anymore but instead looked at his guest, waiting an answer. But his guest was trying to find a believable answer. He could not very well say that he came from Mordor, when these people were so afraid of its inhabitants. But what else should he tell this man? He also could not tell him where he wanted to go and why. And what did he mean by 'yer folk'? It would probably be best if he played the unknowing.

He looked at the man innocently. "I do not know. I cannot remember. I am sorry."

"Ye must've hit yer head harder than I thought. Hopefully the memory will return. But I don't know how ta treat ye. Best go to one o' those settlements o' yer people. I heard Mirkwood is the nearest. Ye should go there, they can help ye, I'm sure."

While he talked, the man had cut off a piece of bread and his guest had willingly eaten the offered food.

"What is yer name, by the way?"

"Legolas."

"Ah. I'm Bard. I've been living here for..."

Again Bard talked on and on, but Legolas did not listen to him. He was too surprised by his prompt answer. He had never heard this name before, and yet he had given it without thinking about it. And it somehow felt as if it fit. Again he had suddenly said a word which he had never heard before but which he knew. First Thala's name and now his. Thala!

He again focused on Bard, who was still talking. Impatient to know what had come of his mount, Legolas did not wait for Bard to finish or pause but interrupted him. "I had a horse with me. Do you know if he is still alive?"

Bard looked a little indignant upon being interrupted, but answered nonetheless. "Yeah. Seen 'im." Legolas sighted in relieve. "Tried to bring 'im here but 'e didna let me near 'im. Followed me at a distance but not into the village. People say 'e's still out there."

"Thank you. He is dear to me. He is afraid of Men, does not want to come them too near." And neither do I. The last bit Legolas did not say aloud. He did not have much experience with Men, but what little he had was enough. Bard exuded a rather unpleasant smell, as did the whole house and outside was not any better as well. Legolas had the impression that the man before him did not take a bath very often. His teeth yellow, black or missing, his bronzed skin smudged with black, his clothes dirty and his hair was either of a natural brown color or so dirty that it appeared natural. Men appeared to be even dirtier than orcs, which already were dirty enough in Legolas' opinion.

But he would play nicely. Perhaps Bard would give him a knife for hunting. Belatedly, Legolas realized that he should have brought weapons with him from Mordor. But then it had not occurred to him that he would need to hunt. He always had had food brought to him, and even when they had travelled inside of Mordor, they had always brought some with them. He had never had to look for it or to know where it had come from.

So they talked a bit more until Bard sent Legolas to bed. It had been a long time since anyone had sent Legolas to bed, but he really was tired, and so he did not protest.

xxxxx

One week later, Bard found his guest ready to travel once more. Legolas had been very impatient and could not wait to leave the town of Men. Now his leg was healed enough for him to walk without too much pain and therefore he thought he was finally ready to leave. He had already donned his clothes and was taking his breakfast in the kitchen when Bard came in.

"What d'ye t'ink yer doin'?"

Legolas looked up at him, having expected that reaction. "I'm leaving."

Bard did not know what to say to that and only opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. Finally, Legolas had enough and put down the bread he had just been eating. "Barn, I...thank you. Thank you for your hospitality. You took me in and gave me shelter, and I do not want to know what would have happened to me if you had not done so." In truth, he knew exactly what would have happened. Orcs or wargs would have found him. He wanted to believe that they would have taken him in as Bard had done, but he doubted that very much. But why did he expect it to be any different? He sighted. "But now the time has come for me to leave. I will make my way to Mirkwood, so it is not too far."

Bard looked down and let himself fall onto a chair that creaked dangerously under the sudden assault. "Well,...I...you seem ta have set yer mind. Let me at least give ye a knife so ye can hunt. I don' have anything else tha' I can give ye."

Legolas looked up and smiled a false thankful smile. "Thank you, Bard."

They finished their breakfast and then Bard lead Legolas out of town to where Thala was still waiting. When the horse saw his master it started to gallop towards him and only slowed down and stopped shortly before running into Legolas who slung his arms around Thala's wide neck. "It is good to see you, my friend. Thank you for waiting for me."

He turned around to Bard once more, but still patting Thala's soft hair. Bard was staring at the horse with big eyes, he blinked a few times and then looked at his guest. Legolas turned around to the horse, but Barn put a hand on his shoulder to turn him around again.

"'ere's the knife. It's not much, but it's all I have te give ye."

Legolas looked at the old and rusty knife. He thought he could still see a peace of meat hanging on it, but took it nonetheless. He did not want to hurt Bard's feelings after the man had looked after him for over a week. So he plastered a grateful smile on his face again and swung onto Thala's back. Bard looked even more astonished and frightened.

Legolas halted his prancing horse for another moment. "Bard?" he asked somewhat sheepishly. "In which direction is Mirkwood?"

Bard chuckled at that. "It's north west o' here. I don' know where exactly. Good luck finding it, Legolas."

Legolas nodded in thanks and then let Thala sprint off into this new world.

Sooo, what do you say to the first chapter? Good, bad, horrible (hopefully not /chews her fingernails/)...

Oh yeah, by the way...Does anyone know how I can make one of those little stars? You know, the one you put before and after somerthing like grins or lol? I just used '/' to make up for it.