Disclaimer-Why torture me so? No, I dont own any LotR characters... All I own is Caisha, her family, Ysan, a few more characters and a rather smelly pair of socks. Come to think of it, I dont own them either. They sort of belong to themselves, considering they have their own DNA patterns
Notes-o-0 It'll be funnier... To me, at least. Hopefully. I have a warped sense of humour. Most might not find it funny... Its an unoriginal idea, really, with only one difference; Caisha really doesent like anything LotR related. It reminds her of her sister too much. There will be romance, but not for a while 3 I have to set the scene. Caisha has severe senses of denial, right now.
Pronunciation of my characters-
Caisha-
Cay-sha
Ysan- Ee-san
Dyanai- Di-yan-ey
To
my beloved reviewers- I GOT REVIEWS! -coughs- sorry, I get overly
excited. -gives reviewers cookies-
GothicShadow- here you
go Hope I didnt make you wait too long
ChronicCheddar- -is
glomped- 3 Yesh, I love horses. I used to have one, but had to sell
him when I outgrew him ;-;. And I just love the whole
girl-falls-into-ME thing I know its not very original, but its
entertaining, nevertheless. And Caisha loved her hair as it was xD
She doesent think blue's her colour... It was going to be lime green
originally, but the idea scared me too much xD I might make her have
lime green a bit later o-0 Lots of things will happen to Caisha's
hair 3
Chapter One- Of Denial, Tables and Mars Bars
Caisha's dream was a strange one... She was sat cross-legged on the bed in her bedroom, watching a number of orcs do the Maccarina (I have no idea how to spell that dance). She had a bag of popcorn, which, as she reached into to get more, turned out to contain Kurt Cobains head; shot through with an arrow. Strange... She didn't want to eat Kurt Cobain's head, as much as she liked his music... When she next looked up from Kurt Cobains face, she was sat in the school annex, and the orcs had vanished; she was vaguely aware of being in her pyjamas, and her hair had returned to the bright bubblegum blue stage it had been when she woke up, the other day. There was a vending machine infront of her full of mascara brushes, and she was holding a fifty pence piece. Because this was a dream, and you had to go along with them, she put in the fifty pence peice, and got a mascara brush in return. When she picked it up, however, it morphed into a Mars Bar, and the next thing she knew she was running down a hill, being chased by a group of angry looking chocolate bars, all screaming at her for kidnapping their Queen Mars Bar. As she turned the corner into a conveniently nearby forest, she found herself being dragged from the ground and thrown over the back of an iron grey horse, which was extremely big and turned to grin manically at her, ridden by a massive King Size Twix, with a gold crown about the top end of his packaging... The twix had her wrapped in caramel, and no matter how much she struggled, she couldnt get free; and all the while, the Twix was asking her to "Join them..." whoever 'they' were... In the distance, between the trees, she saw Illyra, waving at her, and pointing to the book of the Lord of the Rings she had clutched to her at the same time, smiling evilly... Caisha actually screamed, realising why the King Size Twix was taking her right to her younger sister and the book; oh god no! Anything but having to listen to her sister read out quotes that were irrelevant and incoherent! Please, God, NO! She threw herself, caramel and all, off the horses back, still screaming in terror...
She woke with a start,
struggling on the floor and wrapped tightly in a thin blanket,
listening to her screams dying away with their echoes. Okaaaaay. Not
that that dream was strange, or anything... It took her a while to
calm down and get back in touch with reality, her eyes flittering
around each shadow that crowded her; where was she? This wasnt her
room, though she noted it was more comfortable than the grass she'd
originally been expecting... It was still dark in the world, by what
she could see, but a few shafts of moonlight had found their way in
through the paneless windows. Paneless windows! Her mind did a
doubletack. What use was a window without a pane of glass? Without
glass it was just a... hole. In a wall. Shaped like an arch. Letting
in the breeze.
Her eyes examined where she was, absolutely
confident that she'd never seen this place before and, judging by the
state of things, she didnt want to see it again. She immediately
noticed that there was no door. Just another bloody archway.
Honestly, some people had no respect for a teenagers privacy... Her
eyes carried on searching; the windows she'd already seen, and, from
her vantage point on the cold marble floor, she could see they looked
out onto a neat courtyard, bathed in moonlight and populated with
several plants Caisha knew she'd never be able to pronounce the name
of, no matter how hard she tried. What she presumed to be a wardrobe
stood opposite her, a large, pale, curved wood contraption, ending in
four clawed feet, next to a dressing table with an oval-shaped
mirror, framed in wreathed silver. There was a bed next to her, and
she wondered briefly why she wasnt in it, then answered her own
question as she tried to move, wincing at the ache in her back. She'd
fallen out of bed again, then. It must have been acting as the horse
in her dream, she concluded grimly, pushing herself into a sitting
position, so she could see over the other side of the bed.
She
gave a small shriek of surprise at what she saw, and fell back down
to the floor again, hitting her head rather hard on the marble.
Swearing un-ladylike curses, she managed to prop herself up once
more, this time cautiously looking over the mattress, into the
darkness beyond. No, she hadnt been mistaken. There was someone sat
there, opposite, just watching her. It gave her the heebie-jeebies,
considering how calm the person appeared. Whoever it was, she noted,
stayed silent and emotionless in the shadows as she pulled herself up
completely, gripping the corner of the four-poster bed for support as
she did so. She felt fuggy, with the back of her head banging like
there was no tomorrow and her mouth reminding her that no toothpaste
had passed through it in two days. It was only when she was fully
awake and upright that the shadowed person spoke, and his voice was
as calm and still as that rider who she'd been speaking to
yesterday... What was his name again... Eldorado? Elrohado? Elrohin?
Elromir? Elro... Elmo... El... Damnit, she couldnt think straight,
and she was having a hard time concentrating as the person spoke,
though eventually she latched onto the topic,
"... to
Rivendell, Lady Caisha."
Oh, yeah, said a voice in the back
of her head. Rivendell. Was Illyra still keeping this up? Oh God, how
pathetic... She'd be having words with her sister... when she found
her, that is, and when she didn't feel like her head was about to
split. When she gave no response, the person continued,
"I am
Lord Elrond---" -Elrond? Big freaky elf, looks like a smacked
arse, doesent want his daughter to marry Aragorn? Illyra was really
laying this on thick- "---Can you hear me?"
She broke
from her thoughts, still blinking owlishly at him in the darkness,
"What? Oh, right, yeah. Look, I dont know how much Illyra paid
you, buddy, but I'd really like to go home now. Not that being
kidnapped by a bunch of crazy horseman doesent do it for me, but I've
got things to be doing."
The Lord Elrond, she noticed, looked
exactly as the films depicted him; weird. Illyra must have got them
all plastic surgery of something. A small voice in the back of her
head said; with what? She's so stingy she gave you an IOU for 20p for
your sixteenth birthday! No doubt she thought it was funny... Like
she'd be able to afford plastic surgery for herself, let alone an
entire cast of characters... She ignored the voice, whilst her other
thoughts of denial beat it up and sat it in a dark, unused corner of
her mind, sulking to itself.
Elrond just watched her battle with
her own thoughts for a while, smiling that unearthly, smug smile of
elf lords everywhere- the one that said 'Ahahah! Im an immortal and
you arent fit to lick the hair on my big toe!' before speaking again;
"I can assure you, I know not of who this 'Illyra' is, but I
have been paid by no-one. Elrohir---" -Ah! That was the name!
Hey, wait a minute... Didnt he hit her on the head? Or was that the
other one, Eesan or something? No matter. She'd just yell at them
both- "---told me of your sudden appearance and your rather
unusual... comments." he put the word delicately; she wondered
if he was referring to her Kurt Cobain comments... Or maybe the
mention of Frodo and the Ring; that horse man had got really iffy
then. As her mind strayed to Kurt Cobain, her thoughts returned to
her dream, and she muttered something along the lines of 'effin Mars
Bars' before tuning into hear Elrond speaking again; "--dont
know how you got here, but we can assure you we will do all we can to
find out. In the meantime, you are free to roam the grounds of
Rivendell, but I would reccomend you dont stray from our boarders,
lest you fall foul of the creatures that linger out there..."
Okay,
who the hell spoke like that? These guys were -really- good actors.
"Right, fine, whatever. Just wait till I speak to your
manager..." she muttered the last bit under her breath, but was
convinced the elf heard her with those freakily pointed ears, because
he smiled that smug little holier-than-thou smile again, before
speaking;
"I will leave you now. You have been asleep for two
days, so I trust you are fully rested?" without waiting for her
shocked answer, he continued, "Good. I believe my daughter has
provided you with some gowns; you will find them in your wardrobe. I
suggest you wear them-" his eyes lingered on her jeans and
Nirvana tee shirt, "-if only for correct first impressions. I
think fashion from the Eastern Lands has yet to reach us here in
Rivendell." was that a smirk on his lips? "Oh, and there
was this. Elrohir said you were using it as... a weapon." he
picked up her mascara brush from its place on the small bedside
table, proferring it to her across the bed.
The reaction that it
wrought on Caisha was amazing; she let out a strangled scream that
sounded like 'Mars Bars!' and dove under the safety of her bed,
shivering in her terror. Elrond was no doubt amused by the whole
thing; she couldnt see. She muttered angrily from then on,
incoherently to herself; stupid Elrond and stupid mascara. And why
hadnt he stopped her from falling off the bed, or cared when she was
screaming? She was about to voice her angry questions when she heard
him say, speaking like he was trying hard not to laugh; "I trust
I will see you soon, Lady Caisha..."
And he was gone, moving
silently across the floor before she could reply. She watched him go
from under the bed, warily, astonished; what the hell was going on?
This was an elaborate set up... wasnt it? It better had be. It was
impossible for that to have been the real Elrond. Wasnt it?
Suddenly,
she wasnt too sure...
------
If only she had a knife...
Or, better yet, if only she had anything with a nice, sharp, pointy
end that would show the person she was pointing it at exactly what
she thought of them. Because, you see, if she did have an object like
that, any one of these female 'actors' (yes, Caisha denial was
vigorous and powerful) who next looked at her strangely would be
meeting their death on the end of it. With her holding on to the
other end and grinning manically in their face, swearing about Mars
Bars and Lord of the Rings Quotes. It looked like Caisha was taking
the switch from England to Middle Earth badly. Very badly.
As it
was, she'd been getting some very strange looks; hence her desire to
kick some serious elf booty. She wondered what everyone was doing up
anyway; it had been just past dawn when she'd finally stepped out of
her room, selfconsciously eyeing her clothes; she had taken Elrond's
advice, but only to a certain deegree. She'd point blank refused to
wear one of the floor-length, sweeping, flowy gowns that she felt
belonged to a fashion museum rather than on a girls body, thinking
that yes, they might look good on elves in films, but not on a
sixteen year old girl who liked her self dignity to remain in tact,
and settled instead on a black tunic she'd found rolled up in the
corner of a drawer in her dressing table, dusty and neglected; she
couldnt find any trousers for it, but it hung low enough down her
legs to pass for a dress anyway, albeit a short one, so she just wore
her flat black boots with it, and tied it round with the white belt
she'd been using to hold up her jeans previously. Maybe that was why
she was getting strange looks... Well that appearance, added to her
blue hair, gave her the look of a confused prositute from the 60's; a
look she was coming to hate. She didn't think she looked that bad,
really, when she'd looked at herself in the oval mirror (glad that
her reflection had returned to her) but as she walked along the
catacombs of the Rivendell complex, completely and thoroughly lost,
she noticed the disapproving glances she was getting from the elves
that were out and about alongside her. What the hell was up with
them? And it wasnt just the girls... Some of the males stared after
her in shock; no doubt they weren't used to seeing any flesh beyond
that of necks and shoulders of their women, and were disapproving of
such... flaunting. Like she gave a toss. Seriously. She was here, and
she was going to damn well act like herself, despite what people
said. And when she got a hold of Illyra... Her fingers flexed, as
though invisioning themselves about her younger sisters neck.
There
was one good point, however; compared to the group of porcelain
angels that the female elves were, she was positively golden in
complexion. She loved the small feeling of superiority she held over
them with this, considering she was plain and dull in every other
aspect, against their status; it made her look like she'd spent a few
years in Spain or Turkey, or somewhere equally hot and sunny. She
relished in it, considering back home she was just averagely-skinned.
Other than that, though, the comparisons ended. Everyone of them,
besides the children, was taller than her, despite her own average
height, and her hair was in no danger of rivalling their own- whether
it was straight, wavy or curled, the elves, even the males, surpassed
her. Their hair was glossier than hers, neater, shinier. Healthier.
She wondered what conditoner these people used; maybe she could
borrow it. Especially because hers was dank and lifeless besides
them... Not to mention it was blue. Like, really blue.
"Damn
those Twin Demons of Hell!" she yelled suddenly, stopping on her
meander, "Damn them to... uh, Hell? No, they'd just feel at home
there... Damn them to Heaven? Yes, that was good. Damn them to
Heaven! Mwuhahahaha!" and off she went again, laughing like an
insane person on an insane day, at an insane convention.
Of
course, this earned her more strange looks, to such an extent that
she was forced to eventually shut up, if only to save the sanity of
those she passed, who gave her those confused, aloof looks. She felt
that maybe she could gouge their eyes out with her mascara brush,
which she'd tucked into her white belt, having overcome the initial
fear she'd felt when Elrond had brandished it at her. It was her only
connection with reality right now, and she wasnt about to give it up
for anyone, even if everytime she looked at it, it gave her the urge
to devour any chocolate bar she came into contact with...
As she
was wrapped up in her thoughts, she failed to notice the fact she'd
walked into a large room filled with row upon row of book shelves,
windowless, lit only by a roaring fire which danced in a grate in the
far end wall, casting firey shadows all over the tables, set up for
study or reading... It was weird; outside, the corridors were
illuminated by the dawn sunlight, bright and irritatingly chirpy in
their white marble manner, but in here it was like night had fallen
again... It was only as she felt her leg collide with the edge of a
table, the wood rim digging into her limb and scratching the surface
of her leg that she surfaced from her memories, stumbling slightly in
shock, and staring down at the scratch on her skin.
"Damnit..."
she muttered to herself, wiping the small trail of blood that had
broken through the graze away, glaring at the table and kicking it in
retaliation... It stayed stubbornly wooden and uncaring, and to add
to the effect, it maliciously hurt her toe. "Figures. Any form
of wood hates me." she recalled her previous introductions with
trees, and glowered.
So wrapped up in her self-pity was she,
nursing the cut on her leg which didnt actually hurt, that she also
failed to notice the familiar dark-haired, grey-eyed figure of
Elrohir watched her from the shadows that the fire's light didnt
quite reach, and amused smile on his face.
"Tell me, my lady
Caisha-" -her head snapped up so quickly at the familiar calm
voice that she cricked her neck and let out a muffled swear word,
massaging the back of her neck as she turned her glowering onto him
instead of the table- "-do you oft speak to inanimate objects?
Or does the table somehow talk to you in return?" Now he moved
out of the shadows, she could tell his grey eyes were dancing with a
light that didnt come from the fire; amusement, she realised. Hes
laughing at me. But hes doing it silently. Is that
allowed?
Oh, peachy. Hes got a sense of humour, poor as it
was. This is going to be a long day... "Well, it has just
attacked me, so it doesent need to speak for me to decide it hates
me." she muttered, continuing glowering at him, as he sat
himself down on the edge of the afformentioned table. He was wearing
a tunic that came up to his chin in a stiff collar and ended at his
waist, tied about by a leather belt which held a rather impressive
looking sword. Caisha stared at it for a moment; if she so much as
risked trying to pick up something like that, she'd probably chop off
her own foot or something as equally ridiculous. He was still looking
at her with the calm manner of elves everywhere, and it made her
uncomfortable, considering he still had that amused look flitting in
his eye... Right now, she was still wondering if she'd be able to
find that nice, sharp, pointy-ended object anywhere around here...
Suddenly, she remembered something;
"HEY! Its Eldorado,
right? You knocked me out!" she opened her mouth in horrified
shock, eyes opening wide; how dare he... And then to sit
there! All smug and---
"Elrohir. And actually, my lady
Caisha-" he said in that gentle manner, interrupting her train
of thought. She muttered "Just Caisha" irritably at him, to
his continued amusement, "-It was Ysan who did so."
Oh
yes. Ysan... Eesan. Him. "The one on the frisky black
colt?"
Hah! Take that, calm elf appearances! She smirked at
the tiny flicker of shock that flashed over his face, before he
smoothed out his look again; clearly he didnt expect her to have been
so observant, but he didnt say anything about it if he did. Hah. The
only reason she'd actually noticed was because of her adoration of
horses... Elrohir just watched her for a moment, his booted feet
resting casually on one of the chairs, "Aye, him. I can assure
you he expressed his sincerest apologies for doing so."
Caisha
scoffed at this, returning her eyes to the graze on her leg; it didnt
hurt at all, but she wasnt about to let that stop her. Yes, she was a
drama queen when it came to injuries...
She wasnt going to last
much longer in Middle Earth at this rate.
"'His sincerest
apologies'?" she echoed, "The bastard hit me with a big
wooden stick! I was unconscious for two days!" she was working
herself up, she knew, but she felt she had every right to, with him
sitting their, so calm, so poised. So mature. It just made her glower
all the more.
He was silent for a while, before; "I dont
believe Ysan is a bastard... I happen to have met his father Dyanai
several times in past..." he mused.
Oh, that was right. They
didnt understand the insult here... Christ, where was here?
This couldnt really be Middle-Earth, could it? Oh, how she hated no
knowing things... She felt like she'd died, gone to Hell and was
sharing a room with Adolf Hitler. That was how well her day was
going...
"I meant---" she trailed off... Come to think
of it, what did the insult 'bastard' actually mean. Even in England,
it meant 'guy without a dad', didnt it? So, how was not having a dad
an insult? Oh christ... She was getting philosophical, "-Forget
it. Look, can you show me how to get out of here? Im completely and
utterly lost."
Elrohir was once again silent for so long it
made her uncomfortable; were all elves like this? She had only spoken
to him and Elrond, and they were so alike it was scary... After a
while, Elrohir picked himself off the table and nodded, dipping his
head so far that Caisha could have mistaken it for a bow; only she
didnt, because chivalry was reserved for nights and such, wasnt it?
Not for people who smiled benignly whilst his friends hit you over
the back of the head with big sticks... "It would be a pleasure,
Lad-" she shot him daggers at the beginning of the word, and he
decided maybe it was better to placate the teenage, "-Caisha."
he corrected himself, the amused smile returning...
On her way out
the library, she cut her leg again. She was going to burn that table,
one day...
------
Perhaps she should have expected it;
after all, Elrohir's reaction her mention of the Lord of the Rings
might have indicated the time period she'd found herself in. However,
dear little Caisha still found herself lost in the land of Denial,
and hadn't registered the said response that well. Plus, she'd been
hit over the head with a spear, and that tends to make people rather
forgetful, unless the memory is including horses... Its a pity,
really. Else she would have expected this... Really, she would have
done.
Elrohir had lead her back through the passages of the
fortress-like House, Caisha noting that elves didn't give her strange
looks when she walked with the son of Elrond... Good. Maybe she could
chain him to her or something. That would get Illyra's attention;
she'd completely destroy the morale of the actors -who she
begrudingly noticed were very good at their job- to get back at her
sister... Mwuhah--- wait a moment, did she still really believe that
this was an elaborate set up? Illyra wouldnt have the brains, time or
patience to set up something like this, nor hire the actors, set up
the scene of Rivendell, get them all plastic surgery and then let it
go on for so long...
There was something dangerously wrong here...
She stuck close to Elrohir, not wanting to get lost, thoroughly
worried now... Okay, so if this wasnt a joke of her sisters, where
the hell was she, and how had she got here? She clutched the mascara
brush at her belt- for some reason, the bristles, devoid of any
mascara traces after the little incident a while ago, gave her a
strange comfort. And she began to hum the tune to Wake me up when
September ends to remind herself of pleasant hours watching
Billie Joe Armstrong, Tre Cool (Yes, I cant be bothered doing the
accent xD) and Mike Dirnt prance around on MTV... She was sorely
missing her TV at this point. She'd already missed critical repeay
episodes of Scrubs and Two Pints of Larger and a Packet of
Crisps, undoubtedly her favourite shows... In case you couldnt
tell... God bless Sky+ planner, she thought to herself...
Elrohir
gave her a strange look as she hummed along, which she chose to
ignore; fine, let him think she was strange. Didn't matter to her...
As soon as she could find out where she really was, she was getting
out of there as fast as... She noticed that the cool marble of the
flooring had given way to grass, and she glared at the neat emerald
shards in detest; goddamn country-ness... She was a city girl, born
and bred, from Manchester, though her mother and father had met in a
small valley town called Glossop, in Derbyshire... She hated hills.
And trees. She thought they were laughing at her when she wasnt
looking; and here, hills and trees were in abundance. There was even
a river, which babbled its laughter as she passed...
"So,
Caisha-" she noted happily Elrohir left the 'Lady' out of it
this time "-here we are. Tell the maids if you have need of me
again. I will be only too happy to help." he inclined his head
in that half-nod half-bow thing again, and she glared at him in
return, considering he was still wearing the smirk she had dubbed as
the 'Holier-Than-Thou-Smirk'. He and Elrond were masters of it...
She turned herself around, about to ask him who the Maids were,
and how she'd be able to tell them apart from the others that milled
around, only to discover he had already turned and disappeared from
view... Damn elves and their silent moving!
What could she do now?
Now Elrohir had left her to the fate of the cruel grass and trees,
she had begun to recieve the stares and looks again... Very well, she
shall explore her new surroundings. It certainly looked pretty; its
beauty was just wasted on her. All she saw was green. And blue, of
course, as she looked at the river... She really was going to have to
do something about her hair, she decided... Maybe she should cut it
off and start again, from scratch... But then she'd just be bald...
Then again, she could wear a headscar, or a wig...
She had begun
her meander from the courtyard when she was cleanly, and elegantly,
bowled over by the muscle-laden body of a destrier-type of steed, a
war horse if she ever saw one. It was a fine, attentive liver
chestnut, with a flaxen mane and tail, which she noticed was braided
just before she made contact with the ground. It was very hard
ground, she decided. A very good quality, oh yes. Just not the sort
for falling on, really. She preferred falling on feathers, come to
think of it... The massive equine was reigned to a halt, the rider
said something she didnt bother to listen to- no doubt insulting her
for being in the way... That seemed to be how things worked around
here. She could see the rim of the horses hooves out the corner of
her eyes, and she became dimly aware of how familiar this situation
was to her. No doubt this was going to be a regular
occurance...
Suddenly, as she remained unmoving on the floor, she
felt herself be picked up as though she was as light as a feather,
and set back on her booted feet... Wasnt that nice? Said a weak voice
in the back of her head. She heard a voice asking her something, but
she seemed fairly disconnected, and the world only stopped being so
blurred when she was turned to face her helper, who had been riding
the liver chestnut, considering they were holding the reigns in their
hand...
Her sullen blue eyes found the face of the said person,
and she swallowed thickly, finding her throat had suddenly dried up.
Oh crap... This wasnt possible... Was it?
To Be Continued!
- Mwuhaha! A cliffie! Which member of the Fellowship will
she meet? You get to decide Just vote for who you think the person
should be in a review 3 It can be any of them- minus the Hobbits.
Those four are already in Rivendell. We'll see them in the next
chapter.
So, tell me who you think the rider of the horse should
be from:
Legolas
Gimli (Unlikely for him to be riding a horse,
but oh well)
Aragorn
Boromir
Gandalf
The member of the
Fellowship who gets the most votes will be seen in the next chapter
And Im sorry if it wasnt that funny... Im trying, but its hard to incorporate my humour into these x3