A/N:

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Chapter Two

Sent Where?

It's freezing. Why on earth is it freezing? Okay, I know that my room is cold during the night, but not this cold. And why does my bed feel so…hard? And where's my pillow? I seem to be lying on something…crunchy.

I open my eyes grudgingly. The very first thing I see is a bunch of…bare trees? Huh.

I'm dreaming. That's the only logical explanation for this. Unless I got kidnapped sometime during the night, then brought…here. In the middle of what seems like nowhere…wait! Maybe I sleepwalked! That is possible, right? People can sleepwalk for miles and miles, right? Because it doesn't seem like I'm in the city anymore…

Okay, enough thinking.

I get up and rub my head. A cold gust of wind blasts through me, and I feel a heavy chill. I shiver and rub my arms vigorously. I can feel large goose bumps on them. I may be wearing thick flannel pyjamas, but they are not enough.

I'm outside. How on earth did I get outside? Frowning deeply, I get up and observe my surroundings.

It turns out that I am in a forest, near the outskirts. Piles and piles of dead brown leaves cover the hard ground.

Wait—what? I'm in a forest? Near the outskirts! How did I get here! What is going on! Okay, okay. Just breathe. Breeeeaaathe…

In. Out. In. Out.

Not helping. Crap, I think I'm starting to hyperventilate.

Relax, Breann. Just relax…think of something…um…relaxing…?

I'm dreaming. No matter how cold I am, I must be dreaming! Stupid me! I bet my brain is just tricking my body into thinking that it's cold, when it's actually not! Of course! That makes perfect sense. I'm just dreaming…

I grin maniacally and start to walk, which is unfortunate for my purple Tigger socks. After all, I am wearing no shoes. Poor socks! I'm going to have to wash them really, really well. They are precious to me, you know. Preciousssss…

…what is wrong with me! Argh! I think it's the air in this dream forest. It's unnatural! Why? Well, probably because it's too fresh. Of all the fresh airs I have breathed in my life, I have never encountered air that is this fresh before…not that I go around places in search for the freshest air. I'm just saying that the air is too fresh…and I know I just said that three seconds ago, but…it's too perfect, you know…? Yes, I know I'm rambling…

Why is an arrow being pointed at me? And why is the most beautiful creature in the world currently standing before me, holding said arrow?

The world works in mysterious ways.

I raise an eyebrow, in response to his icy glare. Why he is glaring at me in the first place, I do not know. Why he's pointing an arrow at me, I do not know either. However, I do know that I do not like it one bit. Not at all.

"Who are you?" he demands with a hard voice, which triggers my scowl. How DARE he talk to me and look at me like that! He may be beautiful, but I will not allow such disgusting attitude towards me! ME! The nerve of him!

"I'm Breann, who are you?" I reply calmly, contrary to the expression on my face. I am glaring fiercely at him, a glare fierce enough to make a prince cower in fear.

It does not, however, work on my present companion. I look at him warily and in disbelief (after all, he was able to withstand my glare) as he tightens his hold on his bow and arrow. His eyes flash angrily, and he narrows them at me.

Hmm…come to think of it, he does look somewhat familiar. An old boyfriend? Nah. I do know that back when I was still in the dating scene, I had always made sure that none of the guys I would go for looked prettier than me. This man before me, unfortunately, is just that…which is very, very, very (x100) rare. After all, I am drop-dead gorgeous.

His arrow comes closer to me (almost touching my cheek, actually), and he says with that icy voice of his, "Are you a spy of Saruman?"

I stare at him.

Whaaaaaaaat?

Whaaat?

Whaa…?

I keep staring at him silently, waiting for him to say "GOTCHA!" However, after the expression on his face turns from icy to really icy a few seconds later, I shake my head and shoot him a look of true pity. A (really) handsome face wasted on a complete and absolute madman. What is wrong with this world? Why? Why?

I clear my throat. "Did you…um…come from somewhere? A large place with white walls with people dressed in…um…white clothes?" I do not want to say the term "mental institution," because who knows if that term might set him off? I do not want him to go crazier than he is now.

The pointy tip of his arrow touches my cheek. "Are you a spy of Saruman?" he repeats with a dangerous voice.

That does it! If he keeps this up, I will seriously beat him up. I obviously can, since I am pretty much among the best in martial arts. I can handle this lunatic with no trouble at all. One more annoying move and he'll get it. I swear.

"Point this thing somewhere else," I say coldly, swatting the arrow away from my face.

Which makes him angrier. His dark expression darkens even more, and he presses the tip of the arrow back on my cheek, this time putting a bit more pressure than before.

If he gives me one mild cut, if he draws the teeniest trail of blood, he's dead. I mean it.

"Answer the question."

One remarkable thing about this guy is that he doesn't shout. Every line that comes from his mouth is full of iciness, but very, very composed. And I actually find that more effective than shouting.

"No, I am not a spy of Saruman," I reply, just as icily as him. Then I look away and whisper very quietly, "You crazy freak of nature."

Which he hears. And I have no idea how, since I said it very, very, very quietly. This guy must have excellent hearing. Great. That adds more to his abnormality.

"Give me a reason and I will," he threatens with a low tone in his voice.

I stare at him again. Is he serious! He actually has the guts to kill? He really must have escaped from a mental institution. Okay, no big deal. I can still handle a mentally unstable person…

As I stand there quietly and stare at him more, the word "psychopath" appears and flashes continuously on his forehead.

Okay, not really, but…

"You're coming with me," he says firmly. He is still pointing his stupid arrow at me. "Start walking."

I can beat him up right now if I want to (seriously, I can!), but…nah. Let's see where this leads. If I am actually in danger, I can get myself out easily. Come on! I have a black belt. Nothing can stop me.

I start walking. He is leading me out the forest, which is perfectly fine by me.

"You know, you look familiar," I say conversationally as I walk forward, with him behind me, still holding his bow and arrow readily should the need to slaughter me arises.

"Silence," he replies coolly. "Do not speak."

I scowl, which he does not see, of course. "I am soooo sorry," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I did not realize that I am forbidden to make a sound with my vocal chords."

He does not answer. Fine by me.

Jerk.

We are reaching the end of the forest. As I approach the outskirts, the lines of trees thin noticeably, and I see dark specks in the distance. They seem to be people, but I can't be sure. I'm too far away to be sure.

Finally, when I am much nearer, I become sure. They are people. There are about ten of them: some are sitting, while others are standing. They look like a group of travellers, for they have heavy packs with them and whatnot.

My footsteps alert some of them. Yes, only my footsteps. My captor (and I use that term very loosely, since I can escape anytime I want to) is unnaturally silent at everything. I can't even hear him breathe, and I am naught but a metre away.

An old man dressed in grey stares pensively at me while smoking this long pipe, while two men beside him stare at me half-curiously and half-suspiciously. Nearby are four…children? Well, they must be, since they can't be more than four feet. They are huddled in a small circle, and they haven't noticed me yet.

The group looks familiar. I am forming in my mind what they remind me of, but I do not want to think about it, since it is too…odd.

"Who is this that you have brought?" the old man speaks up. His voice sounds…wise. Which kind of doesn't make sense.

Cue the four children's attention being captured, after the old man's little comment. Four curly heads turn simultaneously towards me.

The moment their eyes are upon me, one of them starts to scream.

"What is it, Gandalf?" he shrieks, staring at me in horror. "What is it?"

I am floored for the second time.

Whaaaaaaaaat?

Whaaat?

Whaa…?

Why is this kid staring at me as if I'm someone who just resurrected from the dead? Is he a student of my father's studio? Does he know me?

Wait. Wait just one second. Did he just call that old man…Gandalf?

So my suspicion is correct. This is a "Fellowship." Do I happen to be in some sort of play or skit? Am I among a group of people who are too obsessed over Lord of the Rings and just had to um…re-enact? Am I making any sense?

Am I still dreaming?

I wheel around and gaze at my captor's blue (extremely blue that it's almost unnatural) eyes. He gazes back, not perturbed one bit. In fact, I get this feeling that he's challenging me…how DARE he! The nerve of him! Does he know that I have a black belt? He better be careful!

"Let me guess," I say wryly, "Legolas?"

A flicker of surprise appears on his face. After that mere flicker, his previous iciness appears, more intense than before. He glares and points his arrow back at me.

"You area spy," he accuses. "How do you know who I am?"

I stare at him. I seem to be doing that a lot. "Because you look like Legolas," I say with a matter-of-fact voice. "And I don't want your head to get big or anything, but you resemble Orlando Bloom."

Confusion appears on his face. "Who?"

"You're taking this role pretty seriously, aren't you?" I tell him. I shoot him an incredulous look, then turn to the others. "So…why are you role playing?"

It is the others' turn to look confused. They glance at each other, then look back at me, wariness perfectly evident on their faces.

Then one of the two men who had been staring at me earlier speaks up. "Are you ill, my lady?"

"She's a lady?" the screamer said dubiously.

I glare at him. "Of course I am!" I snap. "What else do I look like, you dense kid?"

He pales and cowers. Right when he does this, I feel a painful grip on my arm. I turn and find myself staring at the hard glare of Legolas.

"Silence," he says coldly. "You will not be rude to any of these people." He tightens his grip even more and narrows his eyes at me. "Perhaps you should know that my arrow never misses."

I clap and respond with a dry voice. "Good for you."

He glares, but says nothing. I like to think that I won that one. A good thing, too. What an arrogant jerk! I can't believe it is possible to have that much arrogance in one person. He doesn't deserve to be good-looking. And yes, I know that "good-looking" is an understatement (underword?), but…whatever.

Footsteps alert my companions and me. We turn simultaneously and see two people approaching the group. Which doesn't make sense. There are eight members of the "Fellowship" currently present, so the approaching two means ten in all. Who's the other one?

When they are close enough for me to see their faces, I see a very short and stocky man with a disgusting red beard. It is so long and frizzy. Ew.

Seeing the other almost makes me faint, but since I am not the fainting type, I settle with gaping.

Saige.

It is Saige.

Walking with…Gimli?

The moment Saige catches sight of me, her amber eyes widen with shock. "Breann?" she says in disbelief. "Is that you!"

"Of course it's me!" I snap irritably. "What else do I look like?"

She suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Um…" She shoots me a sheepish look. "Never mind."

I not-so-subtly roll my eyes, then turn to the guy impersonating Gimli. "So, what it's like to play an old ugly dwarf with poor hygiene?"

He stares at me in shock at first, but after a second or two, he becomes angry. No…not angry. Furious. Livid. Outraged.

"What did you say?" he growls. He raises his axe, ready to chop my head off, no doubt. (Which is no big deal. I can soooo go against a guy with an axe.) "Bring your pretty face to my axe."

"I am pretty, aren't I?" I reply cheekily. "Glad you noticed."

He fumes. Saige immediately steps forward between us. She shoots me a look I don't understand at all. And I won't bother to. It's only Saige, anyway.

"Let's all be calm now," she says firmly. "Breann," she says to me, "I don't think you realize where you are right now."

I look at her incredulously. "Are you daft? I'm dreaming. You're part of this dream somehow."

She stares at me. "Uh…no." She takes a deep breath. "Breann," she begins nervously, "this"—she gestures at the "Fellowship"—"is the real Fellowship."

It is my turn to stare at her. After a long moment of intense silence, I say very coldly, "I don't appreciate it, Saige."

She looks confused. "You don't appreciate what?"

"Fine," I say. "I'll humour your fake innocence." She starts to speak, but I don't give her chance. "I don't appreciate you playing a prank on me," I bark. "Got it? I thought you would have realized by now that I am not someone to be trifled with, Saige."

"B-Breann," she stammers, "I am not playing a prank on you…"

"SHUT UP!" I scream. "Everyone else may think that you're this little innocent girl, but I know better! You're low, Saige! Low!"

Saige looks ready to cry. Her eyes are all glassy and whatnot. I resist the urge to bring my fist up to her cute little nose. No doubt she's putting up a stupid act to convince the "Fellowship" that I'm the bad guy.

Which works. All of a sudden, "Legolas" jumps forth and grabs my arm again, but way more painfully this time.

And because of this, I begin to fight. I bring my fist to his eye, but he ducks quickly. I then grab his hand on my arm and twist it (a move I learned in yellow belt). I manage to give him some pain, but he also manages to get out of it in a second or so.

He is very good. I can't lie about that.

By this time, one of the men (who I am guessing is "Aragorn") has approached to help out his dear old friend. And yes, I do feel great satisfaction in knowing that dear ol' "Legolas" needs some reinforcement to handle me. The three of us fight bare-handed, with me using all those years of martial arts training into good use.

I duck, then do a low kick, then roll, then swipe...blah, blah, blah. The important thing to know is that I am doing it all with impressive speed. I am soooo good, if I do say so myself. Glad to know that I'm giving them some trouble.

Unfortunately, that doesn't last long. As I am about to hit Legolas on the gut, I feel a sudden blow on my head.

There is a difference between fainting and getting knocked out, okay?

I did the latter.

I groan when I feel this throbbing pain at the side of my head. I open my eyes slowly and see a hazy vision of…Saige? Yes. Saige.

Not a good way to start a day.

Wait…

Why is Saige in my room?

All of a sudden, it all comes back to me. The forest. The arrow. That extremely handsome man. Who turns out to be a Legolas portrayer later on. The fight. The cheap (very cheap) blow on the head.

I am still dreaming, of course. All that is happening is that my brain is telling my body that my head hurts, when it actually doesn't. Stupid brain.

"Are you all right, Breann?" comes Saige's concerned voice.

Oh, for crying out loud. I get up slowly, rub my head, then look at her sharply. "Fine," I say with a dry voice.

"I'm sorry Gimli knocked you unconscious," she said remorsefully. "You were getting…rowdy."

"If I see Gimli again, he's dead," I mutter. Right when I say this, I hear a snort (which sounds a lot like a pig stuck under a barbed wire) from behind me. I wheel around.

The whole "Fellowship" is sitting in a messy circle, with their eyes all on me. I catch sight of Gimli smirking at me, as if he's overjoyed about the fact of getting the honour of knocking me unconscious.

Stupid git.

Legolas is just doing his usual: staring at me with cold impassiveness. The "hobbits" remind me a lot of Dad's students: terrified and ready to wet their pants. Gandalf still has that pensive (yet wary) look on his face, and the two men are just…there. Also doing some staring.

"Stop looking at me!" I snap angrily.

They don't stop staring. I see Legolas narrow his eyes at me, but maybe it's just my imagination.

Then Saige speaks up. "Um…Gandalf?" she says timidly.

Gandalf turns his gaze away from me. When he looks at Saige, his eyes soften in a fatherly way. Disgusting. "Yes, Saige?"

"May I have a private moment with Breann?"

He looks at Saige thoughtfully for a while, then nods. "Very well. But you must bring someone with you. Take Legolas."

"No!" I say loudly, which makes the hobbits jump. I roll my eyes at them, then shake my head at Gandalf. "Not the…Elf. He has freaky hearing. He'll eavesdrop."

"We elves cannot help having excellent hearing," he says dryly. I remain quiet and resist the temptation to point out that he is one overly obsessed Lord of the Rings freak. Actually, all of them are.

No, wait, wait. This is just a dream, so why should I care about these obsessed people?

"I'll go," one of the men speak up. I'm guessing it's Boromir, since I have already deemed the other one Aragorn.

Gandalf nods. "Very well. Do not take long."

Saige smiles brightly. (Disgusting.) "We won't."

The three of us set off, with Saige leading the way. We are going to the direction where she and Gimli had come from earlier. I do not question her about our destination. Besides, I'll find out soon enough.

Seconds later and I find myself standing near a stream. Saige smiles at me and gestures friendlily towards the running water. Why is she so cheerful? It's so…depressing. I would rather have stayed unconscious if I have to put up with this.

"Wash your face," she tells me.

I raise an eyebrow. "Why?" I say flatly.

"Because you have a facial mask on," she replies. "That's why you scared Pippin. And…um…I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but your hair is all messed up."

The look on my face is murderous. I do know that my hair is always messed up when I wake up in the morning, but I do not like being reminded of that, which Saige just did. Ugh. What is wrong with her?

And no wonder Pippin screamed. But a stupid green mask still gives you no good reason to screech and wet your pants. Honestly.

I trudge over to the stream and start washing my face. I feel a nice tingling as the cold water trails down slowly. How refreshing.

After my smooth, glowing, and blemish-free (a.k.a perfect) skin is scrubbed clean of green blobs, I try to flatten my hair with water. It works a little, but I rather have a brush or a comb.

When I turn back around, I notice Saige's outfit for the first time. Whoa. She's wearing almost complete winter gear: black winter jacket (not the one with the fur; this one's actually for the snow), scarf, gloves, and boots.

She notices my gaze and smiles. "I was about to make a snowman with my little cousins when it sent me here."

I look at Boromir. He is too far away to hear our nice little conversation. Good. I turn back to Saige and raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean by it?"

"The ring," she replies seriously. "The ring that strange man gave to us in the cafe." She holds up her hand and shows me her silver ring. "See the stone? It was crystal clear, like a diamond, when it was given to me, but after being...um...sent here, to Middle-earth, it turned into light green."

I lean forward and look at the ring. She is right. How can this be? Did she buy a new one just to play prank on me? Silently, I look down at my own hand.

My ring has turned into light green as well. Okay. This is so…weird.

I want out. Seriously. I want to wake up nooooow. Maybe if I start hitting myself I will wake up in my room.

"Breann! Breann! What are you doing! Stop hitting yourself!"

I glare at her, then put my hand down. I wasn't even hitting my cheek that hard, though it is stinging a bit. I turn and look at Boromir, standing at a distance. He is looking directly at me, and the expression on his face is a mixture of curiosity, terror, and wariness. I glare at him, then turn back to Saige.

"My cheek hurts a bit," I say bluntly.

"Well…um…yeah," she says awkwardly. "You were kind of…hitting yourself."

I roll my eyes. "It means I'm not dreaming."

She shoots me a weird look. "I thought you already settled that the moment Gimli knocked you out. Or, the moment you splashed water on your face."

Okay. That comment does make sense, but I refuse to agree with her. Too many people always agree with her, and that is just so infuriating. I'm not going to be one of them.

"So…are you saying that these stupid rings sent us to…Middle-earth…?"

She suddenly looks sheepish. "Well, even though it seems very unbelievable, y-yes…I think so."

Silence.

More silence.

Then I break it. By laughing. Hard.

Saige stares incredulously at me as I clutch my aching sides. I keep laughing, even though I realize that there's nothing funny about this. I should either be bawling or be speechless. Bawling because I'm officially mental or speechless because the news is just so damn BIG.

"Um…Breann? I don't understand why you're laughing."

I sober up. Count on stupid Saige to ruin the mood. "I don't either," I say coolly, "but I have the right to do whatever I want, got it?" I then stare dreamily at the sky and put a pensive look on my face. "Hmm…since this is extremely strange to me, I shall pretend that this is still a dream," I announce.

She looks at me weirdly. For maybe the hundredth time this day. "All right…you do that," she says uncertainly. "Anyway…um…we better get back."

I roll my eyes. "Excited, are you? Can't wait to get back to your Legolas?"

Saige blushes. I stare at her in amazement. She's actually blushing over a cold and arrogant git? No…that is just wrong. Just no… Unless his looks are the cause of her bashfulness, and not his oh-so-wonderful personality. If that's the reason, then I understand, I guess. But unlike her, I will not result to flaming cheeks just because his eyes are extremely blue and his hair freakishly silky and golden.

Just no.

"He's handsome, isn't he?" she whispers as we approach Boromir.

I roll my eyes. "Very," I say, nodding curtly at Boromir (who shoots me a weird look, then turns and leads the way), "no doubt you'll win his heart in a few days or so."

"Oh, stop, Breann," she says quietly. "That's impossible. He's an Elf. Elves can't fall in love with people like us."

I snort and roll my eyes. "Well, who knows?" I say wryly. "You might be a long-lost elf princess of an unknown kingdom, who secretly has magical powers. Or something like that." I then grin at her sinisterly, which makes her fidget. "As for me," I say, "I'm going to make Legolas and the others look like a bunch of sissies. You do know that they're no match for me when it comes to fighting?" I look at her sharply, daring her to disagree.

She doesn't. She just smiles shakily and nods.

Good decision.

Isend her a piercing lookand then walk ahead, brushing past Boromir on purpose. I sense him glare fiercely at the back of my head, so I respond by flipping my hair dramatically, in a "like I care about you" way.

He huffs indignantly, which causes a big smirk to appear on my face.

It really is fun to be the superior one.