Hullo. The first chapter might be a little boring, but a story has to start somewhere, right?

I do not own Narnia.

CHAPTER ONE: For Elise found The Golden Hills

I blew into my freshly made hot chocolate before taking a sip of it, careful not to burn my tongue. Auntie always did make the best hot chocolate when it was close to winter, and whenever I had caught a cold she would be sure to put in extra mini marshmallows. When I was younger, I would always pretend to catch a cold, just to get some extra marshmallows (and Auntie always did know that I was faking it). I didn't care that I wouldn't be able to go outside and play in the leaves or snow – I hated cold weather with a bloody passion and tried making excuses so I wouldn't have to play with the kids in the neighborhood. It wasn't until I turned twelve that I decided to stop pretending, and simply curl at the end of the couch while I listened to the fire crackle in the fireplace, just where I was sitting at this very minute.

It's not that I hated them or anything, I hardly knew them. It's just that it was always cold whenever I ended up staying here (the effects of my parents going overseas and me not owning a passport yet). Back at home I loved climbing up trees or tall hills, and would probably end up getting really dirty. The only thing stopping me now is the cold weather – something I have yet to conquer.

Once I was done with the hot chocolate (for the time being) I swamped back into my book. It was a copy of Narnia, a book series I seemed to find very interesting, my only disappointment in the first book was that Polly never did marry Digory in The Magician's Nephew. But then again, Digory was a bit reckless, and it would seem fit that she became his housekeeper in the second book. My other copies laid not too far from my reach, just so when I finished re-reading the first book, I could go on to the second where I looked forward to reading about the Pevensie children. I only found it ironic that my aunt owned a wardrobe, rather than a simple closet. But it wasn't anything like Lucy had described. My aunt's was old and battered.

"Elise dear?"

A smile spread across my face as I heard my aunt call me and I eagerly looked up. The warm smile dropped into a cold frown as I saw the boy standing next to her: he was around my age, and nonetheless seemed to tower over my aunt. His hair was fair and unkempt, as were his baggy clothes. He flashed a rugged grin and I rolled my eyes, knowing that someone had put him up to this (a bet, no doubt). My aunt probably assumed that I was just going through some sort of phase of being shy towards guys, but I just really hated Gregory Grant. He was cocky, irresponsible and a menace.

"Well, I'll just go and see how those cookies are doing…" Auntie said. Once she left, I shot a glare towards Greg.

"What do you want?" I spat. He shrugged my hostility and invited himself to sit down on the other end of the loveseat. I curled my body closer towards my end, bringing my books closer to close off the gap I had towards them. It was a weak shield, but it was better than nothing.

"What's with all the books? Wouldn't you rather just be outside in the snow, El?"

"For the hundredth time, it's Elise. Not El. Not Eli. Not Lise."

"But Elise is so boring. El and Eli are cuter." He scooted closer towards my book shield but I still buried myself into my corner. He chuckled as I tried to shove him away from me, but I was too delicate to even make any attempt of forcing him away. It would be futile if I tried to make scum remarks; first off, my aunt would hear, and second, it was like he was immune to getting offended or injured.

"Greg!" I whined.

A few wolf whistles behind him caught me off guard, forcing me to fall off the love seat with Greg collapsing over me (as well as my books). "Fancy meeting you down here."

"Get off of me!" I bellowed.

With all my might I curled a fist and shot a punch on his cheek; it didn't hurt him, but at least it caused him to tilt backwards in shock. I rapidly grabbed my blanket, shoving my books within it, closed it into a bundle and ran off into a room. I sighed, sliding my back against the door as I hugged the bundle of books. My eyebrows were narrowed, as I could practically imagine the expressions of Greg's friends, like a pack of hyenas. I shook my head furiously, trying to rid of my thoughts and come back to my reality. It took me a while to realize that I had been in the study: the room where the batted wardrobe was. There was other nonsense like boxes with miscellaneous antiques, warn bookcases, globe, and an outdated desk that reminded me of the early 1900's.

To my horror, I heard three pairs of footsteps closing in towards the room, but my body relaxed once I heard them pass. I realized that they probably wouldn't leave for a while, so that meant I had to hide. It was silly, really, but I didn't want to face them after being humiliated in front of his friends. I panicked again once I heard one of the voices suggest splitting up.

I pulled myself up from the floor, and darted for the wardrobe, but as I started, my books already started to spill out from the open space. I started to pick them up, but once I heard the doorknob turn, I dumped all of the books, only carrying my blanket as I practically jumped into the wardrobe. I went as far as the wardrobe would let me, but I found it odd that I had yet to find the end of it. Could a wardrobe really hold that much?

"Elise?"

I yelped once I felt a batch of tiny sharp objects tickle my back. The wardrobe doors swung open, but I couldn't see who had opened it. And I didn't plan on it, so I did the only thing I could do: go deeper in the wardrobe… or get out of the wardrobe (whichever seemed to work).

I turned around, then, saw what had poked me: the branch of a pine tree. No doubt there was a scrape on my lower back, so I decided to wrap myself around with the blanket to make sure there were as little scrapes as possible. That plan seemed to flaw as I tripped on a pinecone and dive head first through the golden-grassed hill. I yelped again once my head hit against the bark of the tree, knocking me out cold.

I could have been knocked out for hours for all I knew, but I didn't care. I felt like I was resting on cloud nine with the wonderful smell of cinnamon ticking the end of my nose, and all it needed was the flavorful scent of vanilla ice cream to go with it. I wish I could lie here all day, but I knew that I had to get up eventually. I groaned as I tried desperately to open my eyes, but I wish I hadn't. My eyes stared weakly towards Greg. He was cradling me in his arms, keeping my blanket nuzzled against me. How I had ended up under a tree with the world's most obnoxious jerk, I would never know.

"Finally! What the heck happened to you? You're scraped everywhere."

I sighed. "I get it, I look awful."

"Actually, it makes you look very sexy."

I felt the blood rush up to my cheeks and narrowed my eyes, mentally swearing to myself as he barked with laughter. Why the hell did I think that I was resting against cloud nine? He was the most arrogant guy I had ever met, so why did he make me feel nervous all of a sudden?

"By the way, do you have any idea where we are?"

"Yeah, sure. I get lost in wardrobes all of the time!" I retorted sarcastically.

He sighed. "Okay, okay. Sheesh. What do you have against me anyways?"

"Okay, how about we start at the day by the lake?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Oh come on, you have to admit it was pretty hilarious."

"Suuure. Nearly drowning is pretty damn hilarious."

He made a face as if she had just hit him in gut. "Okay, I forgot about that part… but enough about that. We've got to get out of here."

"We haven't even found out where here is!" I complained.

"Look, you're scraped everywhere and you've been out for a while, so we have to go back."

"You can go back. I'm staying to find out what this place is, besides, I don't want my aunt to see me like this! I'm a mess."

He sighed. "What is it with girls and the way they look?"

"What is it with guys not caring about anything?"

The both of us stared at one another for a long while, not wanting to give up on each of our debates. Why couldn't Greg see that this world was incredible? There were clearly plenty of places to go and discover, but all he wanted to do was go home. I finally broke my eyes and gazed at our surroundings: The hills around here were tall and beautiful (and no doubt on the top of one of these trenches was the wardrobe), almost giving the appearance of a valley. I looked back towards Greg, giving him a glass eye covered expression. "Please?" I whispered. Even though I despised him, he was five times stronger than I was and he'd probably carry me home if he had to. So it was either be dragged home, or beg to stay.

He stiffened at my sudden change of attitude, but I knew it was working. I cuddled closer to him, whispering again, like a little child to her father to get her a pony. "Please?"

"...But your aunt will be worried."

That was true, but she knew that I was responsible enough to call if I had gone out late. Besides, whenever my curiosity kicked in, it ruled over my responsibility every time. I was practically screaming at myself as I rested my head against his chest, "Please? Just for a little bit?"

His expression looked like it was about to crack at any second. Yes, I was desperate enough to flirt with the person that made my stomach churn whenever I saw his face. And the way he kept squirming as I begged was his just desserts for making myself look stupid in countless occasions. I grinned the second I saw his face fall into a sigh of defeat and I quickly leaped out of his arms with joy. As I imagined myself dancing (I would be mortified if I did my "happy dance" in front of him) he came up from behind me, placing an arm around both of my shoulders as he leaned towards my ear.

"But just for a minute. Then we get the hell out of here."

"Sure, sure." I said absent-mindedly. I felt like I usually did when Auntie gave me extra marshmallows to my hot chocolate, which reminded me of the one that was at home (and was probably cold by now). But this was much better, but it would have been nice if I was actually wearing better clothes (my baby blue pajamas weren't exactly the best material to be wearing during hiking).

"Sure, sure." A voice repeated.

I looked back towards him with a glare, but he raised his hands up in defense. "That wasn't me."

I honestly think it's kind of cheesy, but then again, the writer is their worst critique. Let me know if its any good.