Hello again! Teehee sorry I accidentally deleted this story. I'm still not used to this site. It took a while trying to think up of the entire plot. I didn't really want a typical "girl falls randomly into Middle Earth and turns into an elf" story, so I tied some backgrounds to the two main characters. I always get curious on what the main characters might look like, so I put two pictures that I thought best matched the same image I thought of the two main characters in the cover photo. This is my second fanfic. I can take constructive criticism, but please don't just see this as an opportunity to completely bash me online. I know the beginning part of this story seems ordinary, but I hope you're willing to wait. Thanks!

Chapter 1

Verya POV

"Miriel!" I called, swinging around the door post and poking my head into the classroom. My cute new backpack bounced as I skipped to my sister quietly working on a stunning painting of a surreal forest. There were tall trees with abnormally twisting branches were among pillars and gates with intricate swirls. I clapped Miriel on the back. "Wow, sis! You really are good at art. You know, it kind of looks medieval in a way. Like some fantastical place where knights would save princesses and stuff," I blabbered on. "Hey, but where even is this?" I asked curiously.

"I don't know," she breathed.

A rap on the door turned our heads to meet the hottest guy on campus: Jake Spencer. Sending us a killer smile, he said in a smooth voice, "Hey, can I talk to you, Mir?"

She shrugged, calmly setting down her paintbrush and stepping out into the hall, leaving me with a gaping mouth. I made eye contact with her with a raised eyebrow, and she mouthed, probably homework.

I rolled my eyes at her ignorance, and sighed. Guys have always been head over heels for my beautiful sister. She had thick, wavy red hair, blemish free porcelain skin, gorgeous green eyes framed with thick lashes, and a Victoria Secret model body. But unlike me, Mir's never dated because of her solitary shyness. Even though we were related, we couldn't look more different. I had grey eyes with flecks of blue, caramel colored skin, and glossy, paper-straight brown hair. I knew I wasn't ugly, but I'm not drop dead gorgeous like my sister. People were always surprised at the fact that Miriel was my two-year younger sister because we were such opposites. Mirieliri loved art, classical music, and nature, and had an extremely shy yet sweet character. While my sister was almost graceful, I was loud and boisterous. I loved fun parties, concerts, and odd sports like horseback riding and sword fighting. Meanwhile, Miriel was incredibly skilled with archery and daggers. Yes, my friend, the list of our completely opposite traits went on and on.

Glancing at my sister's sketchbook, I itched to flip through it, even though Miriel never liked anyone looking at her paintings and drawings. As usual, curiosity took the best of me, and I quickly thumbed through the papers. Awed, I fingered through majestic mountains, beautiful waterfalls next to a grand palace, rolling hills, and wide expanses of meadows and fields.

"Verya!" A hand snatched away the sketchbook.

"Enjoyed your lucky talk with THE Jake Spencer?"

Miriel rolled her eyes. "I still don't see what's so amazing about him."

"Miri! He's the hottest guy in this school. Probably in our district. He could be like some Abercrombie model. Plus he's the football and lacrosse captain. Jake is every girl's dream guy," I explained. "Anyways, what did you guys talk about?"

"He asked me out."

"WHAT? NO WAY!"

"I rejected him."

"Miriel. What. Is. Wrong. With. You."

She shrugged. "I've never talked to him before. And I have a type."

"You don't like handsome masculine guys?" I sighed at my hopeless sister. "Hey, but seriously, what is all this?" I gestured at the paintings.

She bit her lower lip, nervous. "I…" Miriel breathed deeply, and cautiously said, "Ok, please don't think I'm going insane. But...these places...they're in my dreams."

"Dreams?" I repeated, bewildered. "You see all of this so clearly in your dreams? But there's so much detail…"

She nodded, wringing her hands and staring down at her worn out converses. "The strangest part is how I feel about the dreams… It's like a sense of longing. I-I can't explain it," she said, exasperated, pacing around the room.

I sat, silent for a moment, as I watched my frustrated sister before jumping up and grabbing my keys. "You know what? Let's go get some ice cream," I said.

Miriel's face broke out into a grin. "You say the right things...most of the time. Sometimes," she joked, as she stuffed her sketchbook, paints, and brushes into her messenger bag.

As we stepped out of the school entrance and walked towards my car, I felt a light raindrop on my head. Miriel glanced up at the stormy gray sky. "Looks like it's going to be a big storm," she said as she pointed at the looming dark cloud.

I gave her a carefree shrug. "Hey, nothing can stop us from eating the most amazing ice cream ever: chocolate ice cream."

"Correction. I believe you meant vanilla."

"Nope."

We wove our way into the parlor, bought the typical chocolate and vanilla sundaes, and sat down at the familiar small round table in the corner.

As I dug into the heavenly goodness, Miriel softly asked, "Hey Verya… Do you ever think we'll see our father?"

I nearly choked on my ice cream, and grabbed a napkin to wipe my mouth. I sighed, and leaned back into my chair. Miriel and I have a rough past. We've never seen our father, and our mother passed away from giving birth to Miriel. After that, apparently some passerby had seen us in a box with our names etched on its side, picked us off the street, and landed us in an orphanage. My faint and only memory of my mother was of a woman with long wavy silver hair. Very descriptive, I know. But hey, I was two years old before she died.

Picking at my sundae with my spoon, I slowly said, "Honestly… I don't know, Mel. I don't know."

I've always been extremely protective of my little sister. It's been tough without any parents except for Ms. Polly, a sweet old woman who ran the orphanage. Kids always used to make fun of our worn out old-fashioned clothing from thrift stores and our strange names. I had worked my butt off to gather my monthly wages from waiting tables at a small diner to give an old used flute to Miriel. It was worth seeing how her face lit up during hard times.

We finished the rest of our ice cream in silence. Both of us so deep in thought, we hadn't noticed the drastic plunge in the weather. From the distance, tornado sirens have gone off.

We sprinted to the car through the beating rain, the wind whipping our hair. Slamming the car door shut, I started the engine. I backed the car out of the parking space when I suddenly heard Miriel scream and felt a heavy jolt. Everything blanked out.