I woke up, and I knew by the stinging, sticky feeling in my eyes that it was still fairly early for me. I wondered briefly what had woken me. Perhaps it was someone in my room? That normally woke me. I'm a very private person, and if anyone steps into my territory, then I normally get all ballistic about it.

  It took me a moment to realise that someone probably had been in my room, because light was shining in my face, and I never open my curtains. Never. And it was at that same time that I realised that I wasn't in my bed. The ground was slightly damp, and it was…grass.

  I leapt up into a sitting position. Okay, I was definitely not in my bedroom. I was in a woodland area, a forest. Trees as tall and healthy as anything I had ever seen before, with sun filtering through the canopies onto beautiful, lush green grass. Nowhere I had ever been before.

  I was too struck by the beauty of it at first to realise that going to sleep in a bed and waking up on the floor of a forest was a little odd. But as I watched the trees gently swaying in the breeze, I remembered lying on my bed, not meaning to but drifting to sleep anyway. And come to think of it, I didn't have broken sleep like I normally do.

  That was it. Panic slowly began to set in. What had happened to me? Where was I? I looked down, and saw that I still wore my bedclothes – a pair of dark grey tracksuit bottoms and a lighter grey vest top. But I most certainly was not in my room.

  I looked around. I could see slight dirt paths winding through the trees, and as I focused more, I realised that I had never seen taller, healthier trees before. The sun, the grass, the trees, all of it was like a fairy tale, some idyllic world that shouldn't exist but apparently did.

  I stood ever so slowly, looking around for any signs of life aside from the odd bird flitting through the trees. When I saw none, I frowned, and rubbed at my arms. I wasn't cold, but I just didn't know what else to do. I knew I had to do something, but what was beyond my reach. I didn't even know where I was.

  A thought occurred to me, and my hand shot to my tracksuit bottom pockets. Yes, my pocket knife! I always slept with it close, just in case I forgot to shut my window one night, and the yobs from the railway track would notice. At least I had some form of protection. The knife had been my uncle's, and I valued it dearly. And I also had the lighter, from when I put it in my pocket accidentally. Maybe if I was stranded for a while, I could use it to light a fire.

  I slowly started walking forward, realising that standing still all day wouldn't really help me at all. But I felt a lump in my throat, and I was afraid. Had I been kidnapped? Was this some kind of joke? If it was, then the prankster wouldn't be among the living when I found him/her.

"Mum? Dad?" I called. "Jack?" Then, clutching at straws; "Danny?" Danny doesn't talk, so I was really being a bit of an idiot in calling his name. But I was getting hysterical. I stamped my foot, and I was lucky that the ground seemed to be void of stones, because had it had a few pebbles here and there, I probably would have had to hop on one foot, because my feet were actually bare.

  I felt like crying. My ribs on my left side still really hurt, and lifting up my vest, I could see the bruise was large and a dark colour, the edges tinged yellow. The pain in my hip had intensified, now in both hips and running down the backs of my thighs. Now I was lost in some strange forest, all alone, barefoot, armed with a pocket knife, a lighter and my sharp wit (ha ha). Where was everybody?

"If this is some kind of joke!" I yelled, looking around. No one answered. But a noise seemed to softly fill the air, starting off quiet but growing to a low hum. The trees rustled restlessly, and the noise seemed to be like a low murmur, a whisper. I didn't like it. If my calculations were correct, the noise was coming from the trees. As though they were talking. Letting a small gasp escape my lips, I reached into my pocket and drew out my knife. I opened it to the sharpest blade, and held it in front of me, fearful of the beautiful trees, of the forest which surrounded me on all sides. All the while, I wondered where my parents where, where Jack was, Danny, Tommy, Penny, Kimmy, Rob – hell, even Leela.

  I scanned my surroundings. Trees on all sides, various paths running here and there. I realised that standing still all day wasn't really a good idea, as much as I wanted to. I may not have been particularly smart when it came to the whole 'stranded in a strange place' thing, but I knew that it was important to locate a stream, and possibly a house or something.

  So, with reluctance making me move slower than I probably should be, I moved forward, clutching at my knife and keeping my eyes on my surroundings. I chose the path that was directly ahead of me, and walked carefully, checking for stones that might injure my feet. And I was silently cursing everything. My family, this place, my life, me. I was NOT in a good mood. Not at all.

  After about half an hour of walking – or so my watch said, it actually felt longer than that – I decided that I was getting nowhere. My feet were gaining blisters, I was getting sweaty under all the heat, and a dull thumping had begun in my temples, signalling the start of a grand headache. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and I had that distant feeling that you get when you're overworked, worried, and completely unhappy.

  Deciding I needed water and fast, I hobbled carefully over to a tree, realising that I could probably see more from a height. I slipped the red knife between my teeth and grabbed a hold of the branches, silently praying that the weird trees wouldn't be annoyed with me. I slowly pulled myself up, twisting in ways that made me feel proud of myself; until I finally decided I was high enough. From there, I perched on a sturdy branch and gently brushed the leaves aside. So far, the tree wasn't meaning any harm to me, but I was wary all the same.

  From my vantage point, I could see more and more woodland. It seemed to go on forever. But from where I was, it seemed that to the northwest of me, there was a slight glimmer of sun hitting water. Excited, I struggled to get out from the tree, and as I hit the ground, I decided to try to stay alive by removing the knife from my mouth and saying to the tree, "Thank you."

  Slightly embarrassed at thanking a tree, I sprinted towards the water, no longer worried about pebbles but only about dehydration. I ran like I'd never run before, with my legs pumping like pistons, my breath ragged, my arms moving in motion, my right hand still clutching my beloved knife. I was beginning to get quite pleased with myself at how I was running along without tiring or without fear of pain, when I rounded a corner into a clearing and crashed into something solid. Whatever it was, it gave a startled cry, and it and I hit the floor, me a few feet away.

  By the time I gathered my senses, I had the knife in a grip, and I whirled to point it at whatever was now standing above me – pointing a bow and arrow at my face.

  I was stunned to say the least, but I'd managed to get my knife past the attacker's face and pressed against his neck. As I inspected his face, he seemed surprised, maybe respectful. Me, I was just drooling.

  He had long blond hair, like spun gold, and it reflected the sunlight like a halo. I like long hair, always have done. His skin was lightly tanned, his body slim but well built and sturdy – I knew that because I was still seeing stars from running into him. Or maybe it was just my hormones.

  His eyes were the real attention-grabber though. The scariest shocking blue I had ever seen. I remembered Ali G saying to Gail Porter, "I like your eyes…can I touch them?" and I instantly wanted to say that to this guy. But then, there are certain things you don't say to someone who has a weapon thrust in your face – and I'm not talking about a part of his anatomy.

  He wore a really weird outfit, and the first thing I thought of was Robin Hood. It was an outfit of greens and browns – a kind of tunic over leggings, with a belt housing some pretty mean daggers, a cloak fastened with a silver leaf brooch and a quiver of arrows on his back. He looks like an Elf, I thought to myself with a mental giggle.

"Ya naa lle? Mankoi naa lle sinome?" He demanded.

  I raised an eyebrow. "Come again?" I said, trying not to think of 'come' in a dirty way. What can I say? There are two sides of me – the Jack side, and the Tommy side. The only language I knew aside from English was Spanish, so I couldn't really tell what this honey was saying.

  He studied me for a few moments, then said, "You speak the common tongue?"

"Looks like it," I replied, my knife still at his throat.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Wait just a second," I said with more bravado than I felt. I was pretty pissed, gathering by the pains from Hastings, the new pains from slamming into this babe, and the pain in my head. Oh, and did I mention I was lost? "You expect me to answer all of these questions when you have an arrow pointed at me?"

"You too have a weapon pointed at me," he said, looking annoyed.

"One good turn deserves another," I said. He seemed to understand, and as he pulled away, I did too. But I didn't put my knife away. I kept it with me.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" He asked, looking at me suspiciously.

"My name is Carrie," I replied. "I, uh, don't actually know where I am." I eyed his strange attire. "I think I may have been kidnapped or something, since I definitely wasn't here before I went to sleep."

  He blinked. "You were captured?"

"I must have been. Unless my family are being really cruel," I cast a glare around the forest just in case they were. Then I wondered if this guy had been hired by them as some kind of trick. "And you? Who are you? And where exactly am I?"

"You are at the borders of Rivendell, in the Trollshaws" he replied, looking puzzled. "I am Legolas Greenleaf."

  I stared. Oh, this was definitely a trick. And a really nasty one too. Lord of the Rings. My eyes welled up slightly as I thought of Mark, but I pushed the thoughts and my tears away impatiently. I didn't know who was behind it, or why they would do it, but this was a very mean trick. Mark – even though I hadn't known him well – had been a good friend, and his death was a very tender spot for me. This Lord of the Rings piss-take was beginning to bring about the Carrie that liked to set things on fire. And I did, after all, have my little black Bic in my pocket.

"Oh, sure you are. And I suppose you're an Elf?" I crossed my arms angrily.

"Yes, I am," 'Legolas' said, looking puzzled. "You are mortal?"

"Yes, I am," I mimicked. "Who put you up to this? What kind of filthy joke is this?"

"What are you talking about? What joke?"

  I had to admit, he was a good actor. He looked genuinely confused. Annoyed, I flicked my eyes to his ears. Pointed ears. Probably latex, I thought darkly. I leapt forward and tugged.

"Aiya!" He cried, and took a step backwards, as did I. I was starting to shake. His ear hadn't come off. It had stayed firm. It was his ear. He was…an Elf. This was the Trollshaws. I was…in Lord of the Rings. Now I really did cry.

"Arwen en amin?"

  As I hung my head and cried, I felt something wrap around my shoulders. As my hand came up, I realised it was his cloak. For some reason, this made me cry harder.

"Please, do not cry. Uuma dela. It is okay, do not worry."

  His voice was soothing, and soon my sobbing broke down to weeping, then to sniffles.

"What is wrong?"

  Not wanting to look at Legolas, I wondered what to say. I was afraid to tell him that he was meant to be just a book character. I was also afraid to tell him that I was from another world, but I realised that in that I had little choice.

"I'm lost," I sniffed. "I went to sleep last night in bed and I woke up here. I'm not supposed to be here! I don't know why I'm here! And…" I frowned. "I think I'm in another world. There aren't Elves or Rivendell in my world."

  I could feel his surprise, but he said nothing. In my mind, I mentally made note that he must be on his way to the council of Elrond, about the One Ring. So that meant the Fellowship had not yet been grouped.

"Do you know how to get home?" Legolas asked.

  I shook my head. "I don't even know how I got here! I have no idea…" I almost started to cry again, but I clenched my jaw and forced the lump out of my throat.

"I think you should come with me to Rivendell," Legolas said finally, rubbing my back in a circular motion. "I should think that Elrond Half-Elven or Mithrandir will know what to do." I recognised Mithrandir – Gandalf. Maybe Gandalf would know. But at the moment, I was too busy sitting in self-pity and wondering why Legolas was so gorgeous.

  He whistled, and a beautiful grey horse charged into the clearing, its body and mane gleaming in a way that made me feel self-conscious – a horse had better hair than me. Not to mention Legolas – he had better hair than the both of us. That was just plain embarrassing.

  Legolas pulled me to my feet and helped me onto the horse. Then he jumped on behind me, and nudged it gently in its side. As it took off, I had a hard time hanging on, since it was kind of bareback. No saddle. Luckily, Legolas was holding on pretty tight, so I wasn't going to plummet to either a horrible death or just sheer humiliation.

  We rode off together to the House of Elrond, and the start of my journey.