AN: I'm so happy so many of you like my story! I hope you all stay on for
the rest of this bumpy ride.
lil kawaii doom: I'm slightly fond of cliffhangers (if you haven't noticed that already). I think they keep people reading---that's just my assumption, though. I could be wrong.
Lomiothiel: Thanks, as usual! Sorry about the confusion. I'll try to clear it up in the coming chapters.
kurleyhawk2: Middle Earth gets closer and closer for my characters. It may show up sooner than later now.
Itheilden: The contents of the box will be revealed very, very soon. The long name is a homage to the three things I like the best, science/X-Men (genetics specifically), Lord of the Rings (elves), and Harry Potter (Gryffindor). Like I said before, I really like writing cliffhangers.
A fan of LotR and dance (time #4): The entire story is actually written but I have to find the time to revise and type it out. I'm very glad you like my story and I appreciate the complements.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Emma felt like Alice in Wonderland, falling down the rabbit hole. Down, down, down she fell for what seemed like hours and hours. Her descent had come to a rather abrupt halt when she felt her head hit something very hard. All sense of time, place, and being was gone. It was replaced by total and utter darkness.
She became aware of the sounds of people around her, of a hustle and bustle sort of motion. There was an earthy, natural smell in the air mingling with a sterile, almost medical scent. It was dark. Not indicating that it was nighttime. More like making Emma aware of the fact her eyes were closed.
Emma attempted to open her eyes but she found it akin to trying to wake up from a deep, painful sleep. With a bit of an effort, Emma managed to open her eyes.
"Where am I?" she mumbled, making an attempt to sit up.
A firm hand pushed her back down again.
"No, no lay still, little one. I am very pleased to see that you are awake. We were all quite worried about you," said a woman sitting near her bed.
Emma fell back into the cushioned bed she had been laying on. She took a brief moment to survey her surroundings. She was in some kind of infirmary, apparent by the rows of beds and the people working in the room. The room was in some type of natural out cropping---a cave but not. Here and there, there were signs that a forest was near by.
"Please, tell me where I am? Where are my parents?" Emma asked, panicking slightly because she was not able to discern the familiar forms of her parents in any of the other beds.
The woman regarded Emma with kindly eyes. She, herself, was a mother and to see a child hurt or scared, bother her greatly.
"I will tell you as much as I can, little one, for I know very little about what happened," the woman started.
She drew a deep breath, as if extra strength was needed for the telling of this tale.
"When you and your two parents, as you refer to them, arrived, you took a very nasty fall. You were rendered unconscious and brought straight here. I can not say what happened to the two others that were with you," the woman explained.
Emma's head was spinning. The last thing she remembered was the brown package that her father had placed on the kitchen table beginning to glow and her mother screaming. After that it was all dark. She didn't at all understand what was going on and that was upsetting here.
"How did I get here?" she asked.
Then she added, "Please call me Emma not little one."
"My name is Oire, little one. You arrived here by the means of some odd transporter a very strange wizard---well, he called himself a wizard but he did not look like a proper wizard to me---brought here some time ago," the woman explained.
With a gulp, Emma asked, "Where, exactly, is here?"
"You are in Mirkwood, Emma, Middle Earth," Oire replied.
Emma's first reaction was one of confusion and horror. She didn't understand why she was brought here or how come she was being told she was currently resting in a fictional location.
Then Emma's memory kicked in. Middle Earth was real. She, herself, was an elf. She belonged here. This was her home world.
"But he promised not to take me here until I was ready," Emma mentally mused.
Before she could bring up Legolas and the information he had provided her with, three guards marched into the room. All three were helmed and armed, making Emma lay further back in the bed.
"Lady Oire is the child awake?" the first guard, one with an oddly shaped symbol on his chest, asked.
"Aye, she's awake. Why do you want to know?" Oire replied, angrily.
She did not appreciate the idea of heavily armed guards entering her territory and asking about someone in her care.
"His Lordship wishes to speak with her," the same guard answered in a snapping voice.
"Go back and tell his Lordship, Gondo," Oire said, addressing the curt guard with his given name, "that he can speak with her tomorrow. She requires another day or so of rest."
"I am very sorry but his Lordship ordered us to bring the child to him today," the second guard said in a careful voice.
To Emma, it sounded like he didn't want to upset or raise the ire of Oire.
The woman began to argue with the three guards in a language Emma could only assume was elvish. After a few moments, Emma saw that Oire was fighting a losing battle. She was going to have to go with these three guards, no matter what the woman said on her behalf.
"It's alright," Emma spoke up, "I'm feeling better. I think I can go with them."
Oire and the three guards looked over to the child, watching as she sat up in her bed.
"Are you sure, little one? Perhaps, you should rest a bit more," Oire recommended.
"I'm mostly sure," Emma replied, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
It was then Emma noticed that was not dressed as she was before. Before she was transported, Emma had been wearing denim coveralls with a yellow t- shirt and white sneakers. Now she was barefooted and in some king of long, brown, nightgown like dress.
"Where are my clothes?" Emma asked.
"There were not appropriate for you. These are far better. Good Luck," Oire called.
"Thank you," Emma called in reply.
The guard with the strange symbol on his chest stood in front of Emma. The other two flanked her left and right side.
A long walk later, the four elves reached a very long and wide room. Emma could only assume that this was some type of throne room, considering they wanted her to speak to their ruler.
The room, itself, was ornately decorated with columns cut of the rock and all sorts of interesting looking things hanging from the walls. Emma's sensitive eyes could pick out a dais on the far end.
The guard Oire called Gondo said something to Emma in his own language. A language, Emma didn't understand.
"I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand," she said to the guard, a bit of fear in her voice.
"He said approach the throne, child," the third guard, the one Emma hadn't head speak in the infirmary, said.
Emma didn't move for a split second. Her muscles, for some strange reason, did not feel like they wanted to cooperate. The first guard, Gondo, gave Emma a hard shove, starting her toward the front of the room.
Without so much as a look behind her or a hand coming up to rub the small of the back where the guard had shoved her, Emma walked the length of the room. She stopped when she had reached the steps leading up to the dais.
On the throne sat a stately looking elf. He had a wooden scepter in his hand and a wreath of flowers, almost like a crown, on his head. He work dark, somber looking robes and was, currently, talking to a female who was standing next to his throne.
The elf whispered something to the female and she left via some kind of side exit. He, then, turned to face Emma, giving her a look of dismay.
"I am Thranduil, Lord of Mirkwood. You are?" he requested to know.
"My name is Emma, sir, Emma O'Connolly," she replied, not exactly knowing how to address royalty.
"Emma, lost one of the elves, it is good that you are home. I trust you are ready to spend your new life here," Thranduil proclaimed.
"Not really, sir. I was promised I could come here when I was ready," Emma explained, not wanting to mention who made that promise to her.
The king gave her a puzzled look.
"Where are my parents?" Emma asked, hoping that this high ranking person would know where they were.
"The man and woman who arrived with you? They are of no concern now. They will be sent back and you will stay here, where you belong. Regardless of any promise you were given," he answered.
"But---but," sputtered Emma.
"None of that, child. That is my word and as such is beyond uncontestation," Thranduil said, his voice carrying a tone of severe finality.
Emma, lonely, afraid, and confused, sunk to the floor and began to cry.
(AN: That "beyond contestation" line comes from the movie A Knight's Tale. It sound so cool in the movie that I had to include it somewhere.)
lil kawaii doom: I'm slightly fond of cliffhangers (if you haven't noticed that already). I think they keep people reading---that's just my assumption, though. I could be wrong.
Lomiothiel: Thanks, as usual! Sorry about the confusion. I'll try to clear it up in the coming chapters.
kurleyhawk2: Middle Earth gets closer and closer for my characters. It may show up sooner than later now.
Itheilden: The contents of the box will be revealed very, very soon. The long name is a homage to the three things I like the best, science/X-Men (genetics specifically), Lord of the Rings (elves), and Harry Potter (Gryffindor). Like I said before, I really like writing cliffhangers.
A fan of LotR and dance (time #4): The entire story is actually written but I have to find the time to revise and type it out. I'm very glad you like my story and I appreciate the complements.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Emma felt like Alice in Wonderland, falling down the rabbit hole. Down, down, down she fell for what seemed like hours and hours. Her descent had come to a rather abrupt halt when she felt her head hit something very hard. All sense of time, place, and being was gone. It was replaced by total and utter darkness.
She became aware of the sounds of people around her, of a hustle and bustle sort of motion. There was an earthy, natural smell in the air mingling with a sterile, almost medical scent. It was dark. Not indicating that it was nighttime. More like making Emma aware of the fact her eyes were closed.
Emma attempted to open her eyes but she found it akin to trying to wake up from a deep, painful sleep. With a bit of an effort, Emma managed to open her eyes.
"Where am I?" she mumbled, making an attempt to sit up.
A firm hand pushed her back down again.
"No, no lay still, little one. I am very pleased to see that you are awake. We were all quite worried about you," said a woman sitting near her bed.
Emma fell back into the cushioned bed she had been laying on. She took a brief moment to survey her surroundings. She was in some kind of infirmary, apparent by the rows of beds and the people working in the room. The room was in some type of natural out cropping---a cave but not. Here and there, there were signs that a forest was near by.
"Please, tell me where I am? Where are my parents?" Emma asked, panicking slightly because she was not able to discern the familiar forms of her parents in any of the other beds.
The woman regarded Emma with kindly eyes. She, herself, was a mother and to see a child hurt or scared, bother her greatly.
"I will tell you as much as I can, little one, for I know very little about what happened," the woman started.
She drew a deep breath, as if extra strength was needed for the telling of this tale.
"When you and your two parents, as you refer to them, arrived, you took a very nasty fall. You were rendered unconscious and brought straight here. I can not say what happened to the two others that were with you," the woman explained.
Emma's head was spinning. The last thing she remembered was the brown package that her father had placed on the kitchen table beginning to glow and her mother screaming. After that it was all dark. She didn't at all understand what was going on and that was upsetting here.
"How did I get here?" she asked.
Then she added, "Please call me Emma not little one."
"My name is Oire, little one. You arrived here by the means of some odd transporter a very strange wizard---well, he called himself a wizard but he did not look like a proper wizard to me---brought here some time ago," the woman explained.
With a gulp, Emma asked, "Where, exactly, is here?"
"You are in Mirkwood, Emma, Middle Earth," Oire replied.
Emma's first reaction was one of confusion and horror. She didn't understand why she was brought here or how come she was being told she was currently resting in a fictional location.
Then Emma's memory kicked in. Middle Earth was real. She, herself, was an elf. She belonged here. This was her home world.
"But he promised not to take me here until I was ready," Emma mentally mused.
Before she could bring up Legolas and the information he had provided her with, three guards marched into the room. All three were helmed and armed, making Emma lay further back in the bed.
"Lady Oire is the child awake?" the first guard, one with an oddly shaped symbol on his chest, asked.
"Aye, she's awake. Why do you want to know?" Oire replied, angrily.
She did not appreciate the idea of heavily armed guards entering her territory and asking about someone in her care.
"His Lordship wishes to speak with her," the same guard answered in a snapping voice.
"Go back and tell his Lordship, Gondo," Oire said, addressing the curt guard with his given name, "that he can speak with her tomorrow. She requires another day or so of rest."
"I am very sorry but his Lordship ordered us to bring the child to him today," the second guard said in a careful voice.
To Emma, it sounded like he didn't want to upset or raise the ire of Oire.
The woman began to argue with the three guards in a language Emma could only assume was elvish. After a few moments, Emma saw that Oire was fighting a losing battle. She was going to have to go with these three guards, no matter what the woman said on her behalf.
"It's alright," Emma spoke up, "I'm feeling better. I think I can go with them."
Oire and the three guards looked over to the child, watching as she sat up in her bed.
"Are you sure, little one? Perhaps, you should rest a bit more," Oire recommended.
"I'm mostly sure," Emma replied, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
It was then Emma noticed that was not dressed as she was before. Before she was transported, Emma had been wearing denim coveralls with a yellow t- shirt and white sneakers. Now she was barefooted and in some king of long, brown, nightgown like dress.
"Where are my clothes?" Emma asked.
"There were not appropriate for you. These are far better. Good Luck," Oire called.
"Thank you," Emma called in reply.
The guard with the strange symbol on his chest stood in front of Emma. The other two flanked her left and right side.
A long walk later, the four elves reached a very long and wide room. Emma could only assume that this was some type of throne room, considering they wanted her to speak to their ruler.
The room, itself, was ornately decorated with columns cut of the rock and all sorts of interesting looking things hanging from the walls. Emma's sensitive eyes could pick out a dais on the far end.
The guard Oire called Gondo said something to Emma in his own language. A language, Emma didn't understand.
"I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand," she said to the guard, a bit of fear in her voice.
"He said approach the throne, child," the third guard, the one Emma hadn't head speak in the infirmary, said.
Emma didn't move for a split second. Her muscles, for some strange reason, did not feel like they wanted to cooperate. The first guard, Gondo, gave Emma a hard shove, starting her toward the front of the room.
Without so much as a look behind her or a hand coming up to rub the small of the back where the guard had shoved her, Emma walked the length of the room. She stopped when she had reached the steps leading up to the dais.
On the throne sat a stately looking elf. He had a wooden scepter in his hand and a wreath of flowers, almost like a crown, on his head. He work dark, somber looking robes and was, currently, talking to a female who was standing next to his throne.
The elf whispered something to the female and she left via some kind of side exit. He, then, turned to face Emma, giving her a look of dismay.
"I am Thranduil, Lord of Mirkwood. You are?" he requested to know.
"My name is Emma, sir, Emma O'Connolly," she replied, not exactly knowing how to address royalty.
"Emma, lost one of the elves, it is good that you are home. I trust you are ready to spend your new life here," Thranduil proclaimed.
"Not really, sir. I was promised I could come here when I was ready," Emma explained, not wanting to mention who made that promise to her.
The king gave her a puzzled look.
"Where are my parents?" Emma asked, hoping that this high ranking person would know where they were.
"The man and woman who arrived with you? They are of no concern now. They will be sent back and you will stay here, where you belong. Regardless of any promise you were given," he answered.
"But---but," sputtered Emma.
"None of that, child. That is my word and as such is beyond uncontestation," Thranduil said, his voice carrying a tone of severe finality.
Emma, lonely, afraid, and confused, sunk to the floor and began to cry.
(AN: That "beyond contestation" line comes from the movie A Knight's Tale. It sound so cool in the movie that I had to include it somewhere.)