Apologies all round for the dreadful spelling, punctuation, grammar,
phrasing, expression etc etc. I wrote it on the bus in Tasmania, but I
also typed it up while recovering from the trip around Tasmania. I know
it's not much of an excuse, but oh well. You'll have to live with it. And
more apologies for putting it in the wrong section (Lord of the Flies
instead of Lord of the Rings). Hey, it's an easy mistake to make. And I
fixed it before most of you noticed anyway. So yeah.
I'm rambling and will soon shut up and get on with the fic, I promise. Oh and by the way, I'm writing this after my first day back at school after two weeks of holidays, so any violence or randomness is all school-related, and not my fault. The delay in writing and posting this chapter is also the schools fault, apologies for that as well.
Oh, and I decided to call Mary-Sue 'Jane', cos it's easier to write that way, and because everyone prefers that name anyway. Damn you all, I like Mary-Sue as a name. My character will insult the name Jane in ages to come; no one will call their kid Jane once the world knows this character, unless they are really cruel. Here's a compromise, I'll call my character Mary-Jane. How's that. It'll probably change to 'Jane' when I get too lazy to write her whole name. All the Janes in the world will just have to build a bridge and get over it.
Onwards! There is a clear chapter ahead of us, which we must fill with mindless nonsense before the sun sinks below yonder horizon!
Yeah, hmmm.
Chapter Two:
WARNING: serious Mary-Jane bashing follows. Legolas bashing coming soon. I have nothing against Legolas, but am feeling very sour towards Mary-Jane and anyone associated with her. She's really not as bad as I tell it, in fact, like a lot of Mary-sues, she is perfect in every way, except she annoys me greatly, and I am holding a grudge against her. Oh and Jane, this character Mary-Jane is not based on you, in case you hadn't noticed, and I'm only holding a grudge against you because you keep poking me. GRRRR.
I'll start the chapter any time now.
Mary-Jane didn't quite know why she strolled into the forest on a dank, dreary Saturday morning. The forest laid a fair while outside the town boundaries. She had always been curious of the forest, but today it seemed to be calling to her, drawing her into it's depths.
The trees were dark and thick, the ground covered in layers of decomposing leaf matter. The air was stuffy, and smelt of damp leaves and bark. Little light was permitted through the thick canopy, lending the forest an air of mystery, and leaving the scene colourless. The path was faint, no human traffic had moved along its twisting course in decades. Mary-Jane felt uneasy in the forest but curious and surprisingly calm.
When she was younger, Mary-Jane feared the forest above all other things, and her curiosity had stemmed from there. She had heard many stories about this forest, most about confused events, strange happenings and magic. There had been a road through the wood in ages past, but no evidence of it remained.
Mary-Jane admitted to herself that the forest felt a little strange, a little eerie, even a little magical. Mary-Jane was reminded suddenly that she didn't believe in magic, so instantly erased the thought of magic from her mind and memory. The forest however, did not seem evil or inspire any fear within her. But that may have been because Mary-Jane's intellect was too small to comprehend fear. But it might have been the atmosphere of the forest. The trees grew thinner and the paths more numerous as Mary-Jane travelled further into the depths of the forest. She half-expected to come to a clearing, or find herself at the edge of the forest. She expected the trees to grow thicker towards the heart of the forest. Her mother would have been proud of her; she had observed something other than the colour of the leaves (green, by the way, she *had* noticed that).
She was soon lost in the forest's vast depths. She had been walking for hours, how many she did not know. Nor did she know from which direction she came. The twisting confusion of paths, which would have confused even a mildly intelligent person, did nothing to help the situation. Mary-Jane felt panic and fear rise like a knot inside her. (So she could comprehend fear, my mistake, she must be smarter than she looks). She had never considered the possibility, likely though it was, that she should have to return from the forest whence she came. Her only thoughts had been to explore the forest. It had enchanted her and she found it's call irresistible. But now she was lost in the forest's vast tangle of trees, what little sense she possessed took control for perhaps the third time in her life.
Looking to her left, she noticed the land rise and the trees thin. She began to climb what proved to be a hill. She no longer felt the beckoning enchantment, which had led her into the forest in the beginning. She began to believe that she was going quite mad. This assumption proved to be quite accurate, as not many feel a forest call them into its depths and do not end up in the loony bin.
She was not quite at the summit when she looked up from the ground at her feet and gasped. The view was spectacular. A green canopy of trees spread like a vast carpet in every direction. On the horizon stood a cold, grey mountain rang, which could hardly be seen for all the trees. It took Her a moment for Mary-Jane to take in the beauty scenery around her. Spectacular though it was, the scene didn't look or feel quite right. There was something, playing in the back of her mind telling her that something was amiss.
She once again began to panic. She could not see the edge of the trees, or the plains she knew lay beyond the forest. The cold mountains on the horizon were not at all familiar, and were a totally different formation to those she knew around her town. The small amount of malnourished, under- used and under-treated sense Mary-Jane possessed came once again to her rescue. She may have come up the wrong side of the hill, she reasoned, and was looking towards the centre of the forest, rather than the way she had come. Now that her moment of panic was finished she refused to believe that she was lost. She once again put her head down and marched towards the summit. The ground was rocky, and steep. The final part of the ascent was hard work and Mary-Jane was soon gasping for air.
She sat on a rock, taking a minute to catch her breath and to recover from the climb. She looked around her, and gasped again. She was doing this a lot lately, any sane person would believe she was going for a gasping record. This presumption, however sane, was, in fact wrong. The reason for her gasp was the view in front of her. Below her she found a great river, swift moving, dividing the landscape. She heard the faint roar of a waterfall in the distance. Beyond the river was a harsh, impassable mountain range. None of these she recognised. She did not know of a great river such as this coming into or out of the forest. But then again, she never really paid attention to the local geography of her town, and could easily be wrong. Geography classes were there to provide time to catch up on missed sleep. For the matter of interest, Mary-Jane wasn't wrong. She hadn't remembered a great river simply because there was no great river going into or out of the forest. She stared at the river in disbelief for a long time. The river looked almost black and the ripples reflected the late afternoon light.
Wait.
'Late afternoon'????
Either Mary-Jane had been walking for longer than she thought or she was going mad. As the latter seemed more likely she wandered down towards the river. The afternoon was hot and a cool, refreshing drink was in order.
Walking down the steep side of the hill was painful, and her muscles were still complaining about the ascent, a cramp was forming in her left shoulder.
'Man I'm unfit,' Mary-Jane complained out loud, bending over, sucking in air in the hope to rid herself of the muscle cramps.
'Beg Pardon?' A voice spoke from behind her. The voice was soft, sweet and melodious, as the owner was singing rather than talking.
Mary-Jane jumped, and spun around in the same moment. She had not given a thought to other beings in the forest, she always assumed she was alone. She hadn't even seen any birds, or even hints of the animals who must have made the twisting labyrinth of paths Mary-Jane had followed. The absence of animals in the forest, in hindsight, was rather spooky.
Mary-Jane stood frozen, her muscles refusing to catch up to her racing heart and spinning mind. She stared at the owner of the voice. He had deep brown eyes, abnormally sized ears, which he would have been teased for as a kid, and long, blonde hair, probably to hide the ears. He wasn't very old, perhaps a little over twenty; he had a small build with firm, defined muscles. His whole complexion was enough to drool over, which Mary-Jane would have done had she not been so startled by his presence. His expression was that of innocence, general confusion, curiosity and surprise. She stood there, staring at him in silence, not knowing what to do or say.
He shifted his weight, still regarding her calmly, a hint of sarcasm flickered across the perfect features of his face. This small movement brought Mary-Jane back to earth with a heavy thud. His slight movement had revealed a quiver of arrows and a large bow slung across his back and some dangerous-looking daggers at his side (Not that all daggers aren't dangerous-looking, I've never come across an innocent-looking dagger, neither had Mary-Jane).
Her expression changed from shock and curiosity to utter horror. She stared at him, unable to move, her feet planted to the ground, her eyes glued to his weapons. He stood and moved towards her, both hands out, palms up in the universal gesture for 'I'm not going to kill you with my big terrifying weapons - yet'. She stared at him, her mind racing. She tried to grab onto one of her thoughts as they rushed by, hoping it would lend some reasoning, consolation or advise. He took a step towards her, his hands still in the same position. Her feet, at last, were responding to the confused, rushed commands of her brain. She edged backwards, not able to tear her eyes from his weapons. He paused, as though considering. At last Mary-Jane was released from his spell. She tore her eyes from his weapons, spun around on the spot, and ran like a bunny out of a refrigerator.
Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears she could not hear her pursuer. She tripped and stumbled through the undergrowth, but was amazingly able to keep her footing. She jumped over a log, and turned to run directly downhill. The descent was steeper and more slippery than it looked. She tripped and fell over a small branch, hidden by fallen leaves littering the ground. She jumped up, glimpsing behind her only to see her pursuer only metres behind her. She was stumbling more as she tired. Her left legs were cramping and the stitch in her left shoulder had returned and became sharper with every breath.
She looked down, her sight failing, her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Two strong hands grabbed her from behind, and spun her around. The man looked into her terrified, crazed eyes. With the last ounce of strength she vainly struggled against his hold, beating at the strong arms with her fists.
A/N: I know that's a crap way to end a chapter. Stop complaining. A new chapter coming soon, maybe, hopefully. Don't wait for another chapter. I'll try to get one up next week. But that probably will not come to pass, so maybe the week after, or the week after that. I'm not promising anything.
I'm rambling and will soon shut up and get on with the fic, I promise. Oh and by the way, I'm writing this after my first day back at school after two weeks of holidays, so any violence or randomness is all school-related, and not my fault. The delay in writing and posting this chapter is also the schools fault, apologies for that as well.
Oh, and I decided to call Mary-Sue 'Jane', cos it's easier to write that way, and because everyone prefers that name anyway. Damn you all, I like Mary-Sue as a name. My character will insult the name Jane in ages to come; no one will call their kid Jane once the world knows this character, unless they are really cruel. Here's a compromise, I'll call my character Mary-Jane. How's that. It'll probably change to 'Jane' when I get too lazy to write her whole name. All the Janes in the world will just have to build a bridge and get over it.
Onwards! There is a clear chapter ahead of us, which we must fill with mindless nonsense before the sun sinks below yonder horizon!
Yeah, hmmm.
Chapter Two:
WARNING: serious Mary-Jane bashing follows. Legolas bashing coming soon. I have nothing against Legolas, but am feeling very sour towards Mary-Jane and anyone associated with her. She's really not as bad as I tell it, in fact, like a lot of Mary-sues, she is perfect in every way, except she annoys me greatly, and I am holding a grudge against her. Oh and Jane, this character Mary-Jane is not based on you, in case you hadn't noticed, and I'm only holding a grudge against you because you keep poking me. GRRRR.
I'll start the chapter any time now.
Mary-Jane didn't quite know why she strolled into the forest on a dank, dreary Saturday morning. The forest laid a fair while outside the town boundaries. She had always been curious of the forest, but today it seemed to be calling to her, drawing her into it's depths.
The trees were dark and thick, the ground covered in layers of decomposing leaf matter. The air was stuffy, and smelt of damp leaves and bark. Little light was permitted through the thick canopy, lending the forest an air of mystery, and leaving the scene colourless. The path was faint, no human traffic had moved along its twisting course in decades. Mary-Jane felt uneasy in the forest but curious and surprisingly calm.
When she was younger, Mary-Jane feared the forest above all other things, and her curiosity had stemmed from there. She had heard many stories about this forest, most about confused events, strange happenings and magic. There had been a road through the wood in ages past, but no evidence of it remained.
Mary-Jane admitted to herself that the forest felt a little strange, a little eerie, even a little magical. Mary-Jane was reminded suddenly that she didn't believe in magic, so instantly erased the thought of magic from her mind and memory. The forest however, did not seem evil or inspire any fear within her. But that may have been because Mary-Jane's intellect was too small to comprehend fear. But it might have been the atmosphere of the forest. The trees grew thinner and the paths more numerous as Mary-Jane travelled further into the depths of the forest. She half-expected to come to a clearing, or find herself at the edge of the forest. She expected the trees to grow thicker towards the heart of the forest. Her mother would have been proud of her; she had observed something other than the colour of the leaves (green, by the way, she *had* noticed that).
She was soon lost in the forest's vast depths. She had been walking for hours, how many she did not know. Nor did she know from which direction she came. The twisting confusion of paths, which would have confused even a mildly intelligent person, did nothing to help the situation. Mary-Jane felt panic and fear rise like a knot inside her. (So she could comprehend fear, my mistake, she must be smarter than she looks). She had never considered the possibility, likely though it was, that she should have to return from the forest whence she came. Her only thoughts had been to explore the forest. It had enchanted her and she found it's call irresistible. But now she was lost in the forest's vast tangle of trees, what little sense she possessed took control for perhaps the third time in her life.
Looking to her left, she noticed the land rise and the trees thin. She began to climb what proved to be a hill. She no longer felt the beckoning enchantment, which had led her into the forest in the beginning. She began to believe that she was going quite mad. This assumption proved to be quite accurate, as not many feel a forest call them into its depths and do not end up in the loony bin.
She was not quite at the summit when she looked up from the ground at her feet and gasped. The view was spectacular. A green canopy of trees spread like a vast carpet in every direction. On the horizon stood a cold, grey mountain rang, which could hardly be seen for all the trees. It took Her a moment for Mary-Jane to take in the beauty scenery around her. Spectacular though it was, the scene didn't look or feel quite right. There was something, playing in the back of her mind telling her that something was amiss.
She once again began to panic. She could not see the edge of the trees, or the plains she knew lay beyond the forest. The cold mountains on the horizon were not at all familiar, and were a totally different formation to those she knew around her town. The small amount of malnourished, under- used and under-treated sense Mary-Jane possessed came once again to her rescue. She may have come up the wrong side of the hill, she reasoned, and was looking towards the centre of the forest, rather than the way she had come. Now that her moment of panic was finished she refused to believe that she was lost. She once again put her head down and marched towards the summit. The ground was rocky, and steep. The final part of the ascent was hard work and Mary-Jane was soon gasping for air.
She sat on a rock, taking a minute to catch her breath and to recover from the climb. She looked around her, and gasped again. She was doing this a lot lately, any sane person would believe she was going for a gasping record. This presumption, however sane, was, in fact wrong. The reason for her gasp was the view in front of her. Below her she found a great river, swift moving, dividing the landscape. She heard the faint roar of a waterfall in the distance. Beyond the river was a harsh, impassable mountain range. None of these she recognised. She did not know of a great river such as this coming into or out of the forest. But then again, she never really paid attention to the local geography of her town, and could easily be wrong. Geography classes were there to provide time to catch up on missed sleep. For the matter of interest, Mary-Jane wasn't wrong. She hadn't remembered a great river simply because there was no great river going into or out of the forest. She stared at the river in disbelief for a long time. The river looked almost black and the ripples reflected the late afternoon light.
Wait.
'Late afternoon'????
Either Mary-Jane had been walking for longer than she thought or she was going mad. As the latter seemed more likely she wandered down towards the river. The afternoon was hot and a cool, refreshing drink was in order.
Walking down the steep side of the hill was painful, and her muscles were still complaining about the ascent, a cramp was forming in her left shoulder.
'Man I'm unfit,' Mary-Jane complained out loud, bending over, sucking in air in the hope to rid herself of the muscle cramps.
'Beg Pardon?' A voice spoke from behind her. The voice was soft, sweet and melodious, as the owner was singing rather than talking.
Mary-Jane jumped, and spun around in the same moment. She had not given a thought to other beings in the forest, she always assumed she was alone. She hadn't even seen any birds, or even hints of the animals who must have made the twisting labyrinth of paths Mary-Jane had followed. The absence of animals in the forest, in hindsight, was rather spooky.
Mary-Jane stood frozen, her muscles refusing to catch up to her racing heart and spinning mind. She stared at the owner of the voice. He had deep brown eyes, abnormally sized ears, which he would have been teased for as a kid, and long, blonde hair, probably to hide the ears. He wasn't very old, perhaps a little over twenty; he had a small build with firm, defined muscles. His whole complexion was enough to drool over, which Mary-Jane would have done had she not been so startled by his presence. His expression was that of innocence, general confusion, curiosity and surprise. She stood there, staring at him in silence, not knowing what to do or say.
He shifted his weight, still regarding her calmly, a hint of sarcasm flickered across the perfect features of his face. This small movement brought Mary-Jane back to earth with a heavy thud. His slight movement had revealed a quiver of arrows and a large bow slung across his back and some dangerous-looking daggers at his side (Not that all daggers aren't dangerous-looking, I've never come across an innocent-looking dagger, neither had Mary-Jane).
Her expression changed from shock and curiosity to utter horror. She stared at him, unable to move, her feet planted to the ground, her eyes glued to his weapons. He stood and moved towards her, both hands out, palms up in the universal gesture for 'I'm not going to kill you with my big terrifying weapons - yet'. She stared at him, her mind racing. She tried to grab onto one of her thoughts as they rushed by, hoping it would lend some reasoning, consolation or advise. He took a step towards her, his hands still in the same position. Her feet, at last, were responding to the confused, rushed commands of her brain. She edged backwards, not able to tear her eyes from his weapons. He paused, as though considering. At last Mary-Jane was released from his spell. She tore her eyes from his weapons, spun around on the spot, and ran like a bunny out of a refrigerator.
Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears she could not hear her pursuer. She tripped and stumbled through the undergrowth, but was amazingly able to keep her footing. She jumped over a log, and turned to run directly downhill. The descent was steeper and more slippery than it looked. She tripped and fell over a small branch, hidden by fallen leaves littering the ground. She jumped up, glimpsing behind her only to see her pursuer only metres behind her. She was stumbling more as she tired. Her left legs were cramping and the stitch in her left shoulder had returned and became sharper with every breath.
She looked down, her sight failing, her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Two strong hands grabbed her from behind, and spun her around. The man looked into her terrified, crazed eyes. With the last ounce of strength she vainly struggled against his hold, beating at the strong arms with her fists.
A/N: I know that's a crap way to end a chapter. Stop complaining. A new chapter coming soon, maybe, hopefully. Don't wait for another chapter. I'll try to get one up next week. But that probably will not come to pass, so maybe the week after, or the week after that. I'm not promising anything.