Prologue

By Crystal

Author's Notes:  Well, this is my new story.  I hope you all like it and if you are interested in being in the mailing list, please put your email in your review or you can email me and tell me.  Tell me what you think about this!  By the way, it's dark at the beginning, but it'll change.  That, I promise you.

Summary: A girl lacking self-esteem and socializing skills falls into Middle-Earth, more clearly, Mirkwood.  Refusing to stay without work, she makes a deal with King Thranduil and ends up being the Prince's fiancée's servant.  Merenwen Inglorion is a gorgeous elf, one that is beautiful, kind and witty.  How will a mere human, a lowly human compare herself to such beauty?  And what will happen when she falls for Merenwen's fiancé, Prince Legolas of the Northern Mirkwood?

*We all know who this belongs to... ^^;;*

I bit back tears as they began forming in my eyes, the slap still stinging on my cheek.  My whole body was aching with pain as I remembered the words that came out of my father's mouth...  Even though he was definitely not sober.  I remembered his slurred words as he slapped me yet again.

You useless piece of shit!  Go get a fucking job and get some money.  Your mother had to fucking die, why did she have to fucking die?

I watched as my father's back disappeared through the door before I stood up quietly, using the wall as support.  I looked around the gray empty walls, once again hoping I was anywhere but here.  Being dead would be better off than being here.  My mother died after getting beaten up by my father, although nobody here cared.

Murders happened every day, every frigging hour of the day and no one cared.  There were less and less polices on the streets, people just cared less and less.  Everyday, people died.  I wouldn't have been surprised if I died tomorrow and my dad didn't give me a funeral.  After all, he might be even too drunk to know that I'm dead.

My mother worked her arse off to pay for the bills and my father's booze, but my father just beat her up more and more because my mother never had enough money for him.  I felt my hand clench in a fist and I gritted my teeth.

I used the wall to support me as I walked out the door to my house.  I didn't want to stay in there any longer.  The more I stayed, the more chances I had of getting beaten up again.  Slowly, I walked to the library, where I was being paid meagerly.

I could barely remember the days of my childhood, when my father was still a police and not a drunk, when we had enough money without my mother working and when we lived in a house filled with furniture and not beer bottles.

How had everything gone from good to bad and from bad to worst?  I don't know...  All I knew is my father was on a mission and had shot a hostage in the arm by accident, then thrown out the force.  He had tried getting a job, he really did...  Except he wasn't any good except for being a police.  Slowly, beer corrupted him and he drank to forget.

I remember the days where he came back slightly sober, still then, he had never beaten us.  Then we had to move because we didn't have enough money, forcing both my mom and I out to work.  The more my father drunk, the more we had to pay and finally, we ended where we lived now.  The Hellhole.

How I had kept my innocence all these years is still a mystery to me.  My father had tried to get me to go into prostituting to find money, but I ignored him and found a job at the library.  Although I had to admit, if I'd been a prostitute, I probably wouldn't have found much more than I did right now.  With my dirty blonde hair a little longer than my shoulder and my light silvery gray eyes, I was definitely not attractive.  I was more on the ugly side, actually.

Once, my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend had tried to force himself on me, except I slapped him.  He was willing to pay me and I dumped him right on the spot.  What did he think of me, a whore?  I should be glad, actually.  At least he didn't think of me as a slut.

To most of you that don't know, a slut is very different from a whore.  A slut is one that sleeps with everyone possible, but doesn't get paid for.  Whoring is entirely different.  You get paid after you sleep with the guy.

Finally, I arrived at the library.  Ms. Davis, the librarian mentioned me over, "What are you doing here?  You just got back two hours again."

"My father."  I replied shortly.

She nodded understandingly, "Are you all right?"  I nodded as she touched my cheek softly.  "Poor you...  If only I was your mother..."  She said quietly again, probably for the tenth time today.  Ms. Davis was the only woman worth talking to, although I had long lost my will to speak.  She was a beautiful lady with ebony hair tied up in a bun, her eyes that were wearing glasses were as dark as the wood of the book shelves.  She smiled sadly at me, then gave me a book.  "The book just arrived today.  It's been a while since we've got a brand new book at the library.  Take it."  She told me.

I frowned, shaking my head.

"Take it, Serena.  You're the only one in this crap city that would read anyways.  Why I am still here, I don't know."  She gave it to me.

Finally after a few moments of silence, I took it, "Thank you."

She smiled at me, "You're welcome.  Go sit at your favorite table and read.  I'll tell you when it's time to go home, although like I've said before, you're welcomed to stay for dinner with me.  I'm sure your father," She spat out the last word, "Wouldn't mind."

I shook my head, knowing my father was too drunk to notice what time it was, but I wasn't willing to take the risk.  Although I was prepared to die ever since I found out my mother died by my father's hands, I was not prepared to give my life to that bastard just because I wanted to enjoy a dinner with my favorite person in the world.  I thanked Ms. Davis once again and I went to my favorite table, which was situated at the corner of the small library.

I read the title, Julie Garwood.  Ransom.  I flipped the book around and began reading the summary in silent.  A romance.  I smiled happily, I absolutely loved any romance I could get my hands on.  It was perhaps the fact that I was missing any sort of love I had from my family, or what was left of my family.  That's why I kept reading romance...  It was for me to imagine what it was like to be loved, although I never would be.

My favorite author would definitely be Sandra Brown, especially her 'A Kiss Remembered'.  There's also 'The Cowboy' by Joan Johnston. 

As I finished the summary, I couldn't stop but remember the last line on there, why?  I really didn't know, but it stuck to my memory.

Betrayal can slay trust in a heartbeat...and the greatest risk of all is surrender—to the deep emotions of unexpected love.

I read the story with a smile on my face until I felt a tap on my shoulder.  "Serena, the library is closing.  Are you sure you don't want dinner over at my house?"

I turned around and shook my head.  I followed her out the door and watched as she locked the library door and closed it down.

Ms. Davis looked at me, "All right, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

I nodded my thanks, "Bye!"  I said to her, waving.  She walked where passed me, where I was suppose to go and she quickly walked ahead of me.  I wondered why she was in such a rush to get home.

I walked the entire way back, sighing while paying attention to everywhere around me, knowing there were people in alleys waiting for unsuspecting girls or women.  Frowning, I scolded myself again for not buying a knife for a weapon, but at the same moment, I reminded myself I didn't have enough money.

I sighed quietly as I walked back home, all the time turning around to see if anyone was following me or acting weirdly.  Finally, I arrived and as I looked at my sorry excuse for a house, I felt dread at the bottom of my stomach, as if something was going to happen...  Something bad.

I unlocked the main door and opened it quietly, the door's hinges squeaked as I pushed it open.  The smell of beer hung in the air...  And an unmistakable smell of blood.  The heavy smell of metallic was in the air as the smell of death lingered there.

I felt my heart beating quicker and quicker, wondering what would meet my eyes.  Perhaps a dead father?  Surely, that would be the best thing that has happened to me in ages, but I had a gut feeling that something this beautiful wasn't going to happen.  Something not beautiful, but awful was going to happen.

Walking quietly, my feet barely made any sounds as I walked towards the kitchen, where the sounds of shuffling were heard.  There, I found a machete laying on the ground beside a bloodied corpse.  One that was perhaps too slashed up to be distinguished who to be who...  If not for the glasses laying on the floor, soaked in blood.

Perhaps I had screamed, perhaps I had not...  The only thought when I felt a hand on my neck knocking me unconscious and making darkness claim me were those glasses...  Ms. Davis' pair of glasses.  Ms. Davis killed...

By my own bloody father.

* * * * *

First, I'd like to thank all the ones who have supported my other fic 'Elves Are Not Perfect' and think this is a good idea for a fic.  This chapter is just a story of how dark Serena's life was before the actual story, so I hope that helps a bit.  Next chapter will be in Middle-Earth, so I hope you all enjoy it!  And I apologize if it's too dark for your taste...  Sorry!  But it's actually the first time I've written something this dark.  It might have to do with Lawrence Block's 'Eight Million Ways to Die'.  Great book, got to recommend it.  By the way, all those books mentioned in this chapter are good.  So if you believe in my taste, read it!  I haven't read 'Ransom' yet, although I've bought it just today...  So I'm going to read it as soon as I finished putting this chapter up.  Thanks again for all the support!  Later!

-Crystal

Sunday, August 10, 2003