Okay, for those who read the . . er . . 'preview', I changed Legolas's alias (say it aloud, it sounds cool!) because my good friend Emily, a.k.a. Cheshire, came up with the name Wendell Jorgenson, and it's really not fair, because he's her brain child and whatnot, so, yes, I changed Legolas's alias to something else, and well, I hope no one gets really confused with the speech dialects, because I mutated them as well. AHAHAHAHHAH.

For my beta reader, Cheshire!














The fall was terrible.

They screamed.

They cried.

They sobbed.

And then, they decided if they could scream, cry, and sob for ten minutes a piece without striking solid earth, they might as well shut up.

It was like being dropped, deliberately, from a safe haven.

Quite literally.

But the landing wasn't too bad.

Had it been any other creature, say, for instance, a human, it wouldn't have hurt at all because the human would be dead.

But for them, they simply blacked out when they made contact with the earth. At least. . .they thought it was the earth. . .



He groaned. His head hurt. Everything hurt. Why? He was usually so numb to pain, and even when on rare circumstances he did find himself in pain, it never lasted long. But. . . it wasn't going away this time. His eyes were closed, but panic was filling him from his feet to his head like water into a glass.

Sounds, smells, thoughts he never knew existed before, were smacking him, embracing him, biting him and his senses. Loud, rotten, bizarre-

Unfortunately, all of these stimulating senses were dulled by a very recognizable voice beneath him.

"Get. Off. Of. ME!!"

Legolas's eyes shot open, and stiffly, as his muscles shrieked in anguish, he rolled over painfully off of the person below him.

His eyes widened.

"Arwen?"

The Queen of Gondor's beautiful raven hair was mussed and dirty, and instead of beautiful Elvish jewelry and time worn gowns, she wore-

"Legolas? Where the hell are we?" she asked dazedly. A hand flew to her mouth and she looked appalled at the words that had just come out of her otherwise pure and clean lips. Legolas looked at her oddly as well.

"What did I just say?" she murmured cautiously.

"I believe you said, 'Legolas, Where the hell-"

"No! Not that . . what. . what's going on? I mean, I said something that I wasn't thinking."

"That's weird." as the words left his mouth, Legolas furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Weird?" Arwen inquired, oddly.

"It mean unusual," Legolas explained.

She sighed. "I know what it means, but. . . how?"

"I don't know, but let's concentrate on one thing at a time, shall we? Now where are we?"

Arwen looked around her. "I think we're in a dumpster." she said, nonchalantly.

And so they were. The 'interesting' smells Legolas had found entering his nostrils was that of egg shells and soaked coffee filters, not to mention some other unflattering things. . .

"A dumpster?" he asked, perplexed.

Arwen nodded. "It's a-"

"I know what it is, Arwen." he said matter-a-factly. And he did! He knew exactly what it was. But how?

"This is some delusion." Legolas said, sitting back with a sigh. It had to be a delusion. Here he was, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, sitting on a pile of rubbish next to Queen Arwen. Arwen looked down at herself and gasped.

"What am I wearing?!"

Legolas looked at her, and raised an eyebrow.

"A white tee shirt with blue jeans, but your shirt isn't exactly white anymore." he said, a small smile on his face. There was unholy garbage all over the front and back of Arwen's shirt.

"Tee shirt?" she said.

"Yes, it's a form of clothing that-"

"I know what it means, Legolas! But why am I wearing it? And. . . and why are you wearing one too . . . .?"

Legolas looked down at himself as Arwen trailed off mindlessly with rhetorical questions.

"Brown khakis and a red Patagonia. Red? Something is terribly amiss here, my lady." he said, disgusted.

". . .And why are you here? Where are we? Some kind of different dimension, or something?"

"Dimension?" Legolas felt the familiar word out oddly.

"Yeah, it's a sort of parallel universe-"

"Correction." came a soft, elderly, and somewhat amused voice. Arwen and Legolas jumped in surprise, as they saw an old man, draped in gray and blue, leaning heavily on a staff, a pointy hat upon his greasy gray hair, and a smile on his timeless face.

"You are not in a dimension, and believe me, this is the same universe you have been in, and always will be in."

Arwen's jaw dropped open, and Legolas began breathing in heavy, short paced breaths.

"I. . . I remember you. . . You were in one of my dreams once. . you were once. . .Gandalf?" Arwen murmured, tears in her eyes at the sight of her old friend.

"It wasn't a dream, my dear girl. It was real, and yes, once, and always. It's me, Gandalf."

"I'm dreaming." muttered Legolas.

Arwen snorted at him. "Elves don't sleep. Er. . you are still an elf, right Legolas?"

"I think I am. . ." he trailed off uncertainly.

"You both are. . ." Gandalf resumed.

Arwen gasped in joy and surprise as her tears fell.

"In a garbage bin." he finished lamely, cocking an eyebrow.

The two elves looked around themselves once again, and remembered they were disgusted.

"Now," said Gandalf, hobbling over to the garbage bin, and giving Arwen his hand with a gentleman's touch, "I suggest you come out of there, before you catch the eyes of some overly curious wizards."

Arwen took his hand, and stumbled oddly out of the dumpster onto the ground. Her legs felt like jello beneath her, and she had to support herself against an alley wall in order to stay up.

"Are we with a Wizard's Order then, Gandalf?" Legolas said, taking Gandalf hand and falling gracefully out of the dumpster.

Arwen laughed, to her great surprise. It wasn't anything she'd normally laugh at. Gandalf chuckled as well when he saw the perplexed look on Legolas's face.

"Did I just fall?"

"You did."

"Why? Elves don't fall, do they?"

"Rarely, but it won't happen again, most likely. Once you get the explanations you deserve, and the memories come back, you'll remember your grace and beauty like it was a memory you might have once forgotten.."

"Memories?" Legolas asked softly, getting up. Arwen came to his side, equally intrigued.

Gandalf looked at them, a half smile on his face and his eyes set with a squint of laughter.

"Master Gandalf," Arwen said softly. "Please, tell us, what is going on! Why, when Legolas speaks to me, does he use Westron? What time is it? Who are we? I can remember all that I have seen and all that I have been, but it's like a dream! Aren't I dead among men? And why the hell am I wearing jeans with flares at the bottom instead of khakis like him?"

She sighed belated. "And. . where are we?" she added pathetically.

He turned to her, and smiled warmly.

"You are in a narrow subdivision of Diagon Alley."