Faramir groaned. He'd been celebrating the release of Halo 2 too long last night.

And now he felt...

"Oh, crap!" he yelled, colliding with a bookshelf that wasn't supposed to be there as he was getting up. Blinking and rubbing his injured foot, he wobbled over to the closet, weaving around some trash, an overturned stool and someone's shirt. He yanked his official Halo shirt out and pulled it over his head. Turning, he whispered to himself. "What the heck happened last night?" Spying a bundle of blankets tossed over something, he went to investigate.

The ale cans stunk of alcohol. They were sticky and Faramir handled them only to dump them in the trash. Great. So he had gotten drunk at the party (party?) and everyone messed up his room. Hooray. But who cared anyway? It was a fan party (hey what party?), and now it was time to do something important for a change.

He wiped the sticky stuff into the trash, pushed the garbage on the floor into a manageable pile, and turned on his small TV. His Xbox was already on. Pulling a controller out from under the pile of games on the floor, he sat down, leaning against the antique bed. This was his arena.

Aragorn smiled. It had been an awesome night. Good dreams all around. He imagined it in the movies, "Aragorn and Arwen star in the new romance..." Ha ha. He was about to go back to sleep when Idril, the maid, came barging in.

"Aragorn! Time to get up and move! It's 6:00, we - no YOU need to be leaving in 30 minutes. Get your lazy butt up!"

Well it was just his luck to have a bossy maid order him around on the first day of school.

Éowyn, official Butt Kicker of Edoras, didn't give up her post lightly. The latest wanna-be, a kid named Hanel from somewhere in the town had officially been Kicked Out. Jeez, what was up the competition these days! So they had a huge party for her, the defending champ. It was... fun, except for the cloud of admirers - mostly guys - who followed her every move. They'd been Kicked Out already, but unlike the (smart) ones who actually just went home and tried again with the next Butt Kicker, they stayed and idolized the winner. Yuck.

Now she was working out in the training field, trying a new pattern dance that Éomer had shown her, parrying at invisible foes, her long blonde hair waving around and getting in her face. It was early, 6:00, so nobody bothered her. She liked the quiet. It was first day of tenth grade, and she needed to mentally toughen herself. Instead of a cloud, there would probably be a fog of followers if she wasn't careful. Suddenly her cell phone rang. She slid the sword back into it's sheath and pulled her titanium colored phone (courtesy of Théoden King) out and checked caller ID. It was Arwen, her best friend. She hit "send" and waited for the news.

Arwen was the first Undomiel in a century. Of course, that wasn't very long for Elves, who usually lived at least fifty years longer than Men. She was amazingly pretty, had grace and stature, plus had a mean comeback. Nobody messed with Arwen. At least, they didn't in public and definitely not when her best friend Éowyn was around. Arwen was the most popular girl in school, discounting some twelfth grade cheerleaders.

"Arwen?" Elrond, lord of Rivendell, and Arwen's father stood in her doorway. "Time."

She shrugged, rolled her head and took the pristine room in. The lily flower bed was as boring as ever, the light pink dress still hung up in her opened closet for special occasions, a picture from her first date on the wall. Her bookshelf, with yearbooks by the dozen. A pink phone with her name etched into it by Elven smiths. Elrond left, and she grabbed the handset from it's cradle. Punching in Éowyn's number, she sat. Éowyn was probably practicing by now and -

"Butt-Kicker speaking. State your business."

Arwen sighed. "I told you not to answer like that. It makes you sound like a wrestler."

"That's the point," her friend answered. "I have a title. You think I'm supposed to answer something like: 'Éowyn's here, what's up'?"

"No, I meant something normal. Like, 'Hi.'" She tapped the bedstead. "What are you wearing today? I don't want to wear the same thing like we did in eighth grade."

"Are you crazy? I've been hanging out with dudes all summer (quite hot ones, acutally, just so you know)and you ask me for fashion advice? I've practically turned into a dude! But anyway, Arwen . Don't worry. We will not be wearing the same things."

"Good. I gotta get dressed."

"Éomer's calling. See you later."

"Bye." Arwen dropped the phone on to the cradle again. No luck there. She would have to pick her outfit by herself. She sat up, stuck her feet in slippers and looked at the picture on her night table. Her parents thought it was just a picture, but they didn't notice that it was only guys, and that she had circled one person's head in particular. Aragorn the hottie quarterback on the Rangers. Blowing a kiss, she thought Now where did that pair of capris go?