Well, this is the repost. I've gone and edited a lot because I started this story nearly two years ago yesterday (the fourth) and my writing style and ability has changed a great deal since. I've always meant to go back and fiddle anyway, but some idiot decided to speed that process up by hacking my account and deleting both this story and it's sequel, not to mention another of my submissions (a poem). So I'm reposting it, because…well, I thought it fun to go back and read and…rewrite.
So I hope you like what I've done with it…I'll leave all the original author's notes in…maybe…The chapter titles will likely be different, because I've forgotten what they are now…but Tiddly boogles to that.
~Lai, the BoL.
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A/N: Okay…this was the rather horrible story of mine called, rather lamely, The Adventures of Legolas because at the time I couldn't think up a good title. Then when I posted it, I realize that it really sucked and needed some reworking. So this is the new version of it, and I hope you like this one better than the last.
I figured that for once I'd dispense with the typical Modern-girl-goes-to-Middle-Earth-and-meets-up-with-the-Fellowship-and-then-falls-in-love-with-a-mutually-attracted-Legolas (even though I'm writing one of those too out of morbid fascination) I thought I'd do a Legolas-comes-to-Earth-in-modern-times-and-falls-in-love-with-a-mutually-attracted-girl. Hey-at least it's slightly different. :) This takes place before the whole Lord of the Rings trilogy, and even before the Hobbit, for the sole purpose of allowing me to mess around a bit with the timeline without endangering the whole Quest. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I'd be super rich, and everything would be perfect. Since they're not mine, and I already owe $9000 in student loans for my first year of university, Tolkien and whoever else with any say in the matter needn't worry. I'm certainly not making any money off of this. The characters other than Legolas or any other LotR related characters, are mine however.
So without further ado, I give you,
Be Careful What you Wish for…
"They're noodles David," Rhiannon said to her little brother.
"No they're not," five-year-old David replied. "They're Kraft Dinner."
"Yeah. Noodles. You can even ask mum, if you want."
David huffed and rolled his eyes. He spun on one heel and left the front room, leaving Rhiannon to shake her head and grin as she went back to work. She loved her youngest brother dearly, but sometimes he could be trying. That small argument, over whether or not the instant noodles were in fact noodles, had lasted for five minutes or more.
They keys clicked and clacked as Rhiannon typed, spinning an old childhood story – the early beginnings of which, Rhiannon had come up with when she was of an age with David – into a set of stories intended for her cousin. It was not long before Rhiannon became lost in the story, smiling as the familiar characters played out their adventures.
"Rhiannon!" David called from the kitchen. Rhiannon's fingers faltered mid-phrase, and she growled in frustration. This particular part of the story had taken her several minutes to work out.
"What?"
"The Kraft Dinner's boiling!"
With a curse, Rhiannon sprang from the comfortable red office chair and bounded around the desk. Through the living room, a sliver of the dinning room and the short butler's pantry, Rhiannon skidded into the kitchen and jabbed the switch to start the fan over the stove. Steam billowed as she pulled the over-boiling pot of noodles from the element and reached over to switch it off. She grabbed a fork and fished out a noodle, eying it with trepidation as she waited for it to cool.
Hesitating, Rhiannon tested the noodle. Just perfect, she found, but if she had been any longer, she would have found them the right consistency to be wallpaper paste. Sighing with relief, she went in search of the strainer, only to find that it had vanished again. Snarling slightly, she dug around for a bit, until she found a bowl and a slotted spoon and set about spooning the noodles into the bowl. She was about to add the rest of the ingredients – processed cheese and butter and milk – only to find that there was no milk. At all.
"Bloody hell." She grabbed a cup and filled it up at the sink, adding the water to the mixture. It was going to taste more awful than usual when it was finished, but she doled out some for each of her brothers and called them down to eat.
The boys, being young members of the male sex, could be quite annoying at times and Rhiannon was dreading the moment when they all got downstairs and seated at the table. Usually, they could be loud and obnoxious, though thankfully – on threat of not being able to go see the new Harry Potter movie – they behaved wonderfully. It was a rare day, Rhiannon knew, and she tried to make the most of it.
Lunch was quick. Rhiannon ate the Kraft Dinner quickly, not wanting to taste it as she did for she found the mixture to be foul. The boys liked it, however, and it was easy to make for lunch while she watched them, so their parents continued to buy it when they went grocery shopping, despite Rhiannon's frequent protests.
Later that day, after writing, and getting her brothers ready for the movie, Rhiannon stood at the smallest window in the attic and watched the sun set behind the houses across the street. She shared the attic with her two younger sisters. They had taped off portions to use as their own, invisible walls that marked their territory, though often times these boundaries were ignored.
Her day, all things considered, had turned out pretty well. The boys had behaved and got to see their movie, she had written a great deal more of her story, and now she watched a particularly beautiful sunset, where the sunlight shone off the accumulated snow on the windowsill. There was within her a sense of loneliness that awoke as she watched the sunlight fade from the trees and snow covered rooftops. She couldn't say why such loneliness pulled at her heart, but there it was, all the same. She sighed.
Sure, she missed her best friend – now gone back to university away north. Yes, she knew that she herself had to return to her own school the day after tomorrow. It could not be premature homesickness, because it was her practice to come home every weekend. The loneliness was still there, and all she could wonder was why? Why was she so lonely?
And so now, standing and watching the sun set on a January evening, Rhiannon made a wish. A simple wish, really, to find whatever was necessary to make the loneliness go away, and preferably before she returned to school. Or even to find it at school – it didn't matter, just so long as she found it.
What Rhiannon didn't know – could not know – was that someone, or rather, something had heard her wish and was about to grant it. Slightly out of pity, somewhat out of boredom and mostly in desperation for amusement.
Because being omnipotent and immortal certainly has plenty of downsides. What do you do, when you've done everything? Well, almost everything.
Whatever you haven't done yet, of course.
The being considered its next move with the care and dedication a couch-potato uses in the great deliberation of what brand of chips to by, or in the purchases of dip. It reached a decision. It formulated a plan. When the plan was done, it giggled to itself, or would have, if it wasn't an incorporeal being and thusly, not in possession of vocal chords. Or lungs, for that matter.
This – without a doubt – was going to be the most fun that any being had ever had for a very, very long time.
Rhiannon snuggled down into the arms of the one holding her, seeking warmth and comfort. As the one holding her seemed glad to give it, Rhiannon sighed in contentment. She stirred drowsily, happy with this dream, for it seemed a weight had been lifted. Or, at least, balanced more evenly now that strong arms encircled her.
But as happy as this dream was, there was still something pricking at her subconscious. Something wasn't right, though one half of her mind begged to just let her stay in the moment. The other half refused, quite naturally, for was a little more grounded in reality and not given so easily to believing the dreams and flights of fancy that the first side came up with. As consciousness returned, however, both sides of Rhiannon's mind agreed – something was not right.
Her thoughts followed this, or a very similar, pattern: Wait a moment…arms? Holding me? Where did this come from? Because she had not gone to sleep lying in another's arms, nor did she know anyone in whose arms she would feel comfortable lying in. Nor did she know anyone whose arms would be that strong, protective, gentle, warm…
One hand disentangled itself from the bedding and arms and snaked out to flick on the bedside light. Rhiannon raised her head slowly when her eyes had adjusted and looked up at the one holding her. She blinked once or twice to make sure she still wasn't dreaming and pinched her own cheek for several seconds. When she was sufficiently satisfied that she was indeed awake, and no longer dreaming, she poked the strange man in her bed hard in the chest.
He started, quite naturally, though Rhiannon was still not really expecting it. The scream she let loose could perhaps be described as being of glass shattering proportions (definitely described as 'painful') and woke her sister, her brothers down stairs, and her parents, not to mention the dogs.
To the loud barking of the dogs downstairs, the strange man looked around wildly for the danger that had woken him, took in the change in scenery, looked down at Rhiannon with wide blue eyes and let out a surprised yell of his own.
"Rhiannon? What's going on?" a voice called from the other side of the attic. The dogs howled and barked and scraped at the door at the bottom of the stairs to get in. Rhiannon could hear her father shouting for them to shut up. She flung herself backwards, to the foot of the bed.
"Athena! There's a strange guy in my bed, and I don't know how he got there!"
"You're dreaming, Spooky," her sister answered as she sat up. "Oh my god!"
"I told you," said Rhiannon, who was now at the other end of her bed from the strange, albeit damned hot, young man. "Who are you? How did you get here?"
"This is a strange dream," the man said with a musical, if strange, accent. "I have strayed into a dream that I cannot awake from." He looked positively horrified.
"If this is a dream," Rhiannon began, "then why are you here?"
"Spooey, that made no sense," Athena whispered from her side of the room.
"Shut up! You wouldn't be making any sense either if you had just awoken to find yourself in the arms of some guy in green."
The young man looked from one girl to the other. They were ignoring him at the moment. Perhaps now was as good a time as any get out of this. He started to move when the girl – Rhiannon? – turned backed to him.
"Stay where you are," Rhiannon said, brandishing a thick piece of wood that he hadn't seen her pick up. It was a short, stout branch that she kept by her bed on the off chance that she needed to whack confused people who thought they could steal from her in the middle of the night. "You're staying right where you are until you explain yourself."
"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil," he said, as though this was all anyone really needed to know about him. He eyed the branch, knowing full well that he could disarm her if he needed to, but not daring to move, lest he frighten the excited woman into doing something rash.
"And?" Rhiannon asked, still waving the bugler deterrent under his nose. "How does that help me? Who are you really?"
"I am a Prince of the Woodland Realm," he said slowly, hoping that this young woman would recognize that name. "Please, I do not know where I am or how I have gotten here, or why, but it must be for some purpose or I would not be here at all."
"There damned well better be a good reason for your presence here," Rhiannon said. Something seemed to occur to her. "You're a prince?"
"That is correct," Legolas said quietly, thinking perhaps that this girl would back down now that she knew he was royalty. It was not a thing that he cared to flaunt, preferring to be the same as everyone else, but if his status could be used here to stop a potential disaster, then he was willing to try.
"Well, your highness," the young woman snapped, sarcasm dripping thickly from each word. "Care explaining what in the name of Jebebus are you doing here?" Rhiannon had the faintest idea that at any other given time or place this could be considered to be funny. She valiantly tried to fix him with what was commonly known as a death glare, and raised her right eyebrow in an attempt to try and not show the shock and fear that she was experiencing.
She is beautiful, Legolas found himself thinking as he looked at the girl curled up at the other end of the bed with a stick. But most definitely a mortal girl, and no match for the beauty of Elven maidens. He shook his head and admonished himself for being distracted. Even if this was just a very strange vision, now was not the time for idle thoughts. At the sound of footsteps, he looked up to find the other girl, Athena, coming around the furniture between their beds to stand next to Rhiannon. Athena wore an almost identical look to her sister's upon her features, a blending of fear, excitement, and…something else that Legolas could not identify. Athena put her hand on Rhiannon's shoulder.
"Calm down, Spooey," Athena said when Rhiannon flinched at her touch. "You're not helping things." Legolas silently thanked the blonde girl.
He took a deep breath. "As I said, I am Legolas. The last I remember before I awoke was that I was camping with my kindred in the Mirkwood while on a quest to hunt an Orc raiding party. I placed myself into a light trance, and found myself holding a young woman. Assuming it to be a vision, or a pleasant dream, I didn't stir until you screamed loud enough to shatter mithril." He winced in remembrance.
Rhiannon watched him wearily, but was visibly calmer. "Do you have any idea how you're getting back to this Mirkwood?" who had reached that mental state where one will believe just about anything, just so long as they can go back to sleep.
"No, Lady. I do not even know how I got here."
Rhiannon opened her mouth to reply, but the sound of the door to the attic at the bottom of the stairs opening and the dogs scrambling up the stairs distracted her.
"Oh bloody hell," she muttered.
"Girls?" her father called up the stairs. The dogs crested the stairs, barking, but took one look at Legolas and skidded to a halt. They watched him wearily from the edge of the bed, and then jumped up, tails wagging and excitedly licking Legolas' face.
"Yeah?" Rhiannon and Athena answered at once. Rhiannon did not take her eyes from the frozen man in front of her, who was receiving a warm welcome from a trio of Jack Russell Terriers who ordinarily, if they found a stranger in the house, would have barked loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood. Rhiannon took this sight in and frowned slightly. She told herself that Legolas more than likely wouldn't pull anything, but she couldn't be sure. The dogs certainly liked him, and they normally would have attacked someone unknown who'd gotten past their guard. But just because the dogs liked this stranger didn't mean that he was safe – common sense would dictate that letting her father know that a strange man had appeared in her bed was a good idea. But a curious urge to not tell her father about Legolas just then rose in her mind. She frowned slightly as it conflicted with her common sense but…
With a twitch of her head, she forgot about common sense.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing, dad," Rhiannon answered. "Just a dream." Athena gave her an odd look and then shrugged.
"You sure?" Her father asked.
"Yeah…sorry for waking you up. It startled me something awful, but I'm okay."
"Okay, honey," her father called up the stairs. Rhiannon sighed as the door closed.
"That was close," she said, and put the bugler deterrent down, because one of the dogs was trying to get her to throw it for him. "Loki! Stop that!"
"Aye, my Lady, it was," Legolas replied. "Do you have any thoughts on how I might return to my home?
"No," Rhiannon said apologetically and then frowned. "Why are you ears pointed?" It was a silly question, and Rhiannon went bright red with sudden embarrassment.
"I am of the Elven kindred," Legolas answered slowly.
"Oh." She nodded, ready to believe just about anything. She appeared to reach a decision.
"For now, I guess, you can stay here," she said, as though the man who had appeared somehow in her bed hadn't just announced that he was an Elf. "Be thankful my other sister is staying the night at a friend's house, or you would have to sleep on the floor."
Legolas looked over the side of the bed to where Rhiannon had indicated. "What floor?" he asked, slightly confused. He looked back up at Rhiannon who now had a shaky smile on her face. Her side of the room was quite the mess.
"Erm…"
"It's alright," Legolas said as he stood from the young woman's bed, watching carefully where he stepped to avoid the piles of paper and other bits of strange junk. "Return to your bed, Lady. With luck, this is just all a dream, and we all shall awake where we are supposed to be."
He smiled at the pair of girls – who blushed even more – before making his way over to the bed on the far side of the attic. Stretching out upon it, he watched Athena help her sister back into bed and before going herself. He lay down on his back and pulled his cloak about him. The dogs jumped down from Rhiannon's bed and trotted across the attic, climbing up onto the bed with him, and finding each nook and cranny against him before curling up.
Legolas normally didn't need sleep, so instead he put himself into the same sleep-like trance that he had been in before he had found himself here. It was certainly worth a try, though, to see if it would return him back to Middle Earth. Anything was worth a try.
The wish granter would have grinned, had it a body. Instead it simply felt amusement. Yes, this was turning out better than it had previously thought it would. Much better. What was that saying that the girl hadn't heeded? Oh yes; be careful what you wish for…
A/N: Okay. Wasn't that sooooooooo much better than my first attempt? I certainly think so. Ye Gods that was awful! I can't believe I wrote that. Ah well…like I said in the reviews, the bad writing helps clear the mind for the good. Thankfully, this is true. Sorry if I totally offended anyone.