Author's Note: Hey guys! So...I rewrote this chapter to fit it more towards the plot I'm currently going towards. I hope you guys like the rewrite!

If you didn't get this before, this will be a Legolas/OC fic. If you don't like, don't read. Plain and simple.

And I'll be getting some cover photos up as soon as I can. They'll be posted on my FB page :3

Edit- February 7, 2014: Hey guys, I've rewritten this chapter...again. I want this story to be as accurate as possible, so I did some research for my character, which then turned into a lot of research. So I changed some things, added some information. The research I did was mainly for the next chapter, but in order for it to make sense to anyone, I had to make the changes that I did. So, I really apologize for the long wait. You can definitely expect a new chapter this weekend for sure. Please note that I have changed the main character's real name from Elizabetha to Edlothia. It wasn't original, and I wasn't very happy with it. I found an English-Sindarin (a form of Elvish) dictionary, and found the perfect name. Edlothia is actually a verb in Elvish meaning "blossom" or "flower", but because I couldn't find it in a noun form, I thought that it was perfect.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings trilogy. It is owned by J. R. R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson (the films anyway). I only own Elizabeth (Edlothia). Please don't make fun of her name. I was playing Alice: Madness Returns when I created her.

Chapter One: Down the Thames

It happened a lot quicker than it came.

My mother and father handed me the keys to the family car, seeing as I didn't own my own yet, and forced a list of groceries on me.

"Elizabeth," my mother had said. "I need you to get these few things at the market and then hurry back."

"And no detours to Hyde Park," my father had added.

"Well..." I had said.

"Elizabeth Alice Liddell, no Hyde Park!"

"Yes, father. Would it be alright if I stopped by the music store? There were some-"

"No," he reiterated. "Come straight home."

To say that I wasn't irritated would be a lie. I really had wanted to go and get them something for their anniversary today, but, in a way, I was glad i had to come straight home. A feeling of foreboding came over me, and I felt as though something wasn't right.

I felt as though we were being watched.

I had barely even gotten into the car, a red 2012 Fiat, and started the engine when I heard a loud explosion. To my dismay, it came from behind me, and I found myself caught up in it, the force of the blast pushing me away and almost into a passing car. Thankfully, the driver had stopped before running me over. He and a passing neighbor helped me off of the ground. I didn't even know how it happened. The driver called the fire department. I was in complete shock.

My neighbor tried to get my attention. I just stood there, unable to move or say anything. My neighbor hugged me and tried to comfort me, most likely to keep me from running in there. It was only when the firemen and police had arrived that I finally grasped what had happened.

My parents, the people who had raised me and taught me the values of this world, were gone. The people who had given me their unconditional love had been burnt alive.

They can't be dead, I thought. They just...can't be.

But they were, and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing at all.

I sunk down to my knees and began sobbing. My neighbor held me in her arms, trying to help me up and tell me everything would be alright. But I wasn't listening. How could one listen to that and know that nothing would be okay? I tore myself away from my neighbor, and took off towards the car. Everyone around tried to stop me, but I wouldn't let them. I got into the car and drove off.

I was raised in London, and born, as far as I could remember. My home was located near Hyde Park off of West Carriage Drive. I would go there whenever I was upset. But fate had other plans. I would still be able to see the smoke from the park.

So, instead, I drove across a bridge over the Serpentine and continued until I was on Kensington Road. I drove past Buckingham Palace. I decided to stop and marvel at our Queen's home, but something kept me from doing so. A van rammed me from behind. I was going to get out of the car to ask what the guy's problem was, why they couldn't leave me alone, but as I opened the door, I saw the glint of a gun in the rearview mirror. I closed the door quickly and put the car back into drive when he shot at me, fortunately missing his target: me. I peeled away, the van following very close behind me.

The chase took me down the Mall road, down a roundabout, and then left onto Victoria Embankment. I continued on that road for two miles, getting on Byward Street. As I made the turn for it, I saw what I believed to be my chance to escape.

Tower Bridge.

I took a right turn onto Tower Bridge Approach. I took a glimpse at the rearview mirror, and noticed that I had lost my pursuer. I continued to drive down the road, and across the bridge. There was no one on the bridge—no one driving, no one walking.

That's strange, I thought. There's usually a lot of—

My thoughts were broken by another jolt of the car. My pursuer found me, and rammed the tail end of the car. And he did it again.

I took a hold of the wheel to try and steady the car, but on an emotional level, I was unable to do it. And it didn't help that the van got on the right side of me and started to hit the car from the side. I rammed him back, hoping an approaching car would run into him and stop him. I took another hit, and then another. I was getting closer and closer to the edge. We had already busted through the railing separating the walkway from the road. One more hit, and I would be over the railing and into the water. I rammed the van as hard as I could, but it did absolutely nothing to keep me from going over. Just as the driver hit the car again, it was then that I realized that the driver was not a he, or a she, but an it. It was dark-skinned, dressed in very outlandish clothing. It had pointed ears and red eyes, like a demon straight from Hell. Like something from a nightmare.

What is that thing? I wondered both in disgust and fear.

At that moment, both vehicles went over the edge, and into the water.

As soon as the car hit the water, I began to struggle for my life. I tried to open the door, and found that I could not. Water was quickly flooding in. I was panicking. I didn't know what to do. I was going to die.

Then I remembered that my father kept a wrench in the glove box, just in case of emergencies. If this wasn't an emergency, then I wouldn't know what was.

I grabbed it, took a deep breath, and swung the wrench onto the driver's side window. Cracks began to form on the glass. I hit it again, and the window broke completely. Water gushed in, causing the car to sink even faster. I swam through the new opening of the car as fast as I could. I managed to save myself from sinking to the bottom of the Thames.

But my victory was short lived. As I was swimming towards the surface, I was running out of air. The more I swam, the more my lungs burned. I didn't know if I would be able to make it. I couldn't take it anymore. I could feel a fire burning in my chest. The next thing I knew, I was breathing in water.

I could see the bubbles rising to the surface, and how fast they were doing so. How I wished I were these bubbles! I saw my life flashing before my eyes—father taking me to Hyde Park; mother taking me to Baker Street to visit the Sherlock Holmes Memorabilia Museum; my first singing lesson; my first paint set. And seeing the face of a man that I don't remember. Soft blue eyes, looking at me with concern and sincerity. He looked familiar, but I couldn't remember who he was.

A fitting last sight for me, I suppose, I thought.

Just before I passed out, I saw a blurred figure above the water. I saw their hands come at me, and felt them grab onto my shirt and begin to pull me. Then, everything went black.

xxx

"Edlothia," he had said calmly.

I looked over at the gentleman who brought me to his grave. He gave me a small smile, one that would cause anyone to smile back.

"Are you ready to leave?"

"Not yet," I had replied. "I haven't finished telling Papa about what A- had gotten me for my birthday. I want him to know how nice it was."

I turned to face the grave again, putting my hand on it. I was about to continue when I heard the sound of rustling in the trees beside us.

"What was that?" I asked.

An older gentleman walked next to the younger. "I'm not quite sure."

The younger man pulled out his sword, signaling the others that were with us to draw theirs.

My mind couldn't process what was happening fast enough. The next thing I knew, there was a bright light shining around me, and then everyone around me disappeared. I could feel myself getting sleepy, but not before seeing a black shadow attack me.

I screamed, and then found myself in the arms of two strangers.

xxx

I felt warm. As if I was bathing in sunlight. I could breathe clearly for a change. I expected to smell rainfall, or even the smoggy air of the London streets. But what I could smell reminded me of a fresh autumn breeze, the smell of the leaves after you've crunched them up a little, or as they are falling.

I opened my eyes. I was not in London.

Everything was bright. I was in what appeared to be a four poster bed, with silky, white sheets, a cream colored comforter, and smooth, cushy pillows. I was wearing a cream-colored gown of sorts, with Gaelic designs on the trim. I was wearing a pair of matching trousers as well. The room I was in was ornately decorated. I saw the designs were of a Celtic nature. It was beautiful.

Is this...heaven? I wondered.

"Am I dead?" I asked no one in particular. "Where am I?"

"You are not dead," a voice reassured me. It was a man's voice. It was deep, and sincere. The man sounded as though he were in his mid-30's. "Though we had believed we lost you to the river. It seems that this world still has plans for you."

"We?" I asked.

At that moment, an old man with grey hair and a grey beard, dressed in a grey robe walked away from the shadows and into the light. He was followed by a younger looking man with brown, pin straight hair. He was dressed in long, flowing robes that were a brown, red, and cream color. He also had pointed ears.

Pointed ears? I wondered.

I took another good look at the two men when I noticed that they looked really familiar. Just like the men from my dream.

The younger of the two spoke, and that's when I realized that it was he who had spoken to me before. "Our healers did a magnificent job. We feared you would never wake."

"As to where you are," the old man began. "You are in the House of Elrond in Rivendell, the city of Elves."

That would explain the ears, I thought.

"Rivendell?" I asked. "Where's that?"

"Middle Earth."

"Middle Earth?" It sounded familiar, but then again, I didn't remember learning about it in any of my history classes.

The elf shook his head, and sighed. "I would have thought she would remember that when she returned. But it appears that our healers were unable to retrieve those memories."

"Do not put the blame upon your healers, Lord Elrond," the older man said. "For, if it's what I fear, Saruman is playing a part in the loss of her memory. Of whom she truly is."

"Wait," I said. "What's going on? Who are you? Who is Saruman? What do you mean by 'the loss of her memory?'"

"One question at a time, Edlothia, daughter of Arathorn," the old man said. "There is a war beginning, a war that will determine the fate of Middle Earth."

"A war?" I was so confused.

"As to whom I am, my name is Gandalf the Grey. I am a wizard, known by the many nations of Middle Earth. A confidant to most. And this," he added, pointing to the elf lord. "This is Lord Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. He served as council for your parents, leaders of the Dunedain."

"The Dunedain?"

"Also known as the Rangers of the North, or Men of the West," Lord Elrond stated. "A nation of peoples who hail from Arnor."

My mother and father...rulers of a nation? I wondered. I closed my eyes to fight back the tears that were forming. The thought of my parents was too much. I thought about the fire, the explosion that caused their deaths.

"Saruman is also a wizard," Gandalf continued. "Probably one of the most powerful. He has recently turned over and joined sides with Sauron the Deceiver in his quest to turn this world into one of shadow."

"And you believe that this Saruman has something to do with my memory?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so."

I nodded. "I see." Then I thought about what Gandalf said, about Elrond being a council for my parents. I don't remember ever seeing him whenever my parents were home, I thought.

Looking to the elf lord, I said, "You said you were a council for my parents."

"That is correct," he said. "Many of your forefathers have brought their children here to be raised and taught in the ways of the Dunedain. As were you."

As I was? I wondered. Have I been here before?

But that was the last thing on my mind. My parents' death was still burning in my mind. "My parents are dead," was all I could say.

"Yes," Gandalf said. "I'm afraid so."

"The-they died in a fire," I continued as if he had said nothing.

"A fire?" Gandalf asked. He looked confused.

I looked at him, equally confused. "I thought you knew?"

"You must mean the family who took you in years ago," Lord Elrond assumed.

"Of course," Gandalf said. "That makes much more sense." Looking at me, he added. "Your real parents died a long time ago, when you were still very young."

"My real parents?"

"You hadn't been born when you father was taken," Lord Elrond said. "As a way to keep you safe, your mother, Gilraen, had brought you here to Rivendell, to be raised and nurtured in the ways of your people." He paused, and then continued. "We took you to your father's grave to visit, as you had asked from us. A band of Orcs were hiding there, and ambushed us. Realizing we were outnumbered, Gandalf sent you to another world where he believed you would be safe from Sauron's forces."

"It wasn't until your return to this world that I realized that Saruman had somehow placed a spell over your mind, a curse, which is what has caused the loss of your memory," Gandalf informed me. "The loss of your identity."

It was too much for me to take in. I sat there in silence. I finally got up from the bed and walked over to a post that I leaned on.

"So I...really am an orphan," I said.

Gandalf looked surprised. "You knew?"

I looked at him. "Well, I knew they weren't my real parents. I didn't look like either of them." I looked out towards the balcony that was attached to my room. I added, "There was always something in the back of my mind tell me that they weren't my real family. That I didn't really belong. But something kept me from remembering anything."

It was true. I looked nothing like the Liddell's. Instead of their black hair and dull brown and forest green eyes, I had long, wavy, brown hair and chocolate brown eyes.

"Saruman's magic," Gandalf said. "But you are not alone in your family."

"I am?" I asked looking at him.

"No," Lord Elrond said. "You have a brother."

"A...brother?" Just then, I felt a sharp pain in my head. I grabbed a hold of my head, while keeping a tight grip on the post. An image of a boy with shoulder length, brown hair and sincere blue eyes crossed my aqua blue eyes.

My brother? I thought.

I hardly noticed that Gandalf was now helping me to stand. I looked at him, and nodded, letting him know that I was alright. He nodded back.

"Just a little headache, is all," I said, smiling.

"You're sure?" Gandalf asked.

"I have a brother?," I asked him.

"Yes," the elf lord told me. "Do you remember this?"

I looked at him, and nodded. "I...I think so." I felt a tear escape and trail down my cheek. "Is...is he here?"

Gandalf nodded, smiling. Probably thankful that I remembered something of this world. "Yes, he is."

"May I see him?"

"He's outside," Lord Elrond said. "Hoping to see you."

I gave him a small, unsure smile. Then, I asked. "Does he know? About what happened, about Saruman?"

"Yes, he was well informed about that."

"I see. That saves me the trouble of telling him myself."

"Shall I let him in?" Lord Elrond asked.

I hesitated. Did I really want to see my brother? Someone that I wasn't sure that I would recognize?

Gandalf must have noticed my hesitation, because he asked, "Do you wish to wait?"

"N-no," I said. Looking to Lord Elrond, I added, "That's fine. He can come in."

The elf lord nodded and walked to the door while Gandalf helped me to the bed.

The next time I looked up, it was at the sound of footsteps. I looked up and saw a man with brown, shoulder-length hair, a goatee to match, and sincere blue eyes. He was wearing a dark olive green tunic with silver lining, with black trousers and dark brown boots. Upon looking at me, he looked as if he had seen a ghost.

I stood up from the bed, most likely mirroring his expression. It was as if he popped out of a dream of mine. I hadn't expected him to look exactly as I pictured. I walked over to him.

"Edlothia?" the man asked.

I was confused, to say the least. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me.

That must be my real name, I thought.

I looked towards him and nodded. "I've kind of been going by Elizabeth these past few years, but yes."

The man smiled. He walked up to me and pulled me into a hug. Hesitantly, I wrapped my hands around him and returned the hug.

"I thought I had lost you," he half-whispered. "I had dreaded the worst."

We pulled from the hug and I looked back up at him. I could see the hope that was filling those blue orbs. I felt that the more I looked at him, the more I would remember who he was.

Come on, brain! I thought. Think! Remember something!

I was fighting the fog that was clouding my mind, the black shadow that fought to keep my amnesia going. So much that I felt really weak, and then felt my knees give out.

All three men moved to catch me. My brother was the first to since he was closer. "Are you alright?" he asked.

I held my hand to my head, trying to stop the migraine from coming, but not succeeding. "I...I just need to lie down."

He nodded, and with Gandalf's help, I was led back to the bed. Upon being put under the covers, that's when I remembered something. The story I was trying to tell my adopted parents when I was six years old. A story about a boy who had gotten me a special gift for me for my birthday.

"My brother, Aragon...he had gotten me a harp for my birthday, so that Lord Elrond could teach me how to play while he was gone." I had said.

I looked towards my brother, who was know kneeling beside the bed, my eyebrows knotting in recognition.

"Aragorn?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yes, Edlothia. It's me."

Both Lord Elrond and Gandalf exchanged matching looks of surprise.

Tears filled my eyes and were trailing down my cheeks. I bent over and pulled him into another hug. I remembered who he was.

"I never thought that I would see you again," I managed to say through my sobs of joy.

Aragorn rubbed my back, trying to comfort me. "Shh," he whispered. "It's alright. I'm here now." He broke the hug to look at me. "Tell me everything, anything that you remember."

And I did what I could.

A/N: Well...I hope that you guys enjoyed this tweaked version of the first chapter. I'll be working on the next chapter here within the next few days, so be keeping a lookout for that. Let me know what you think about it, though! I'd love to hear from you. Loved it? Hated it? I want to know. Reviews feed the muse!

Feel free to follow me on Facebook for pics, updates and more!

For now...I'm off to bed to think of some plot lines for this story :)

Edit-February 7, 2014: Well, there! I think that fixes everything...I hope. But now everything makes more sense, at least. This is what happens when I want to make things as accurate as possible. I do shit tons of research and then it takes forever to write a story! GAH! But it was well worth it. I learned a lot of things about Middle-Earth for which I thoroughly enjoyed :)

~Xanthe :3