Chapter 1

"Let us die facing our foes, make them bleed while we can!" Enjolras yelled, eyes blazing with fury.

"Make 'em pay through the nose," Combeferre agreed as he attempted to comfort Courfeyrac.

"Make 'em pay for every man," Courfeyrac added, pain and anger in his eyes from the death of Gavroche moments before.

"Let others rise to take our place until the Earth is free!" Enjolras shouted as the National Guard advanced for their final assault on the barricade. The air soon exploded with the sound of gunshots. For a brief moment, Enjolras began to think that maybe, just maybe they might stand a slim chance of still winning their fight.

His hope soon died, however, as he watched his friends begin to fall, one by one. Feuilly, Jehan, Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac... Running out of ammunition, he grabbed the red flag and climbed to the top of the barricade, waving the flag frantically in one final act of defiance. He barely felt the bullet that struck him in the chest before he felt himself falling, the flag still clutched in his hand as the world went black.

When Enjolras opened his eyes, he found himself in an intricate, stone room, lying on a very comfortable bed. He couldn't remember ever having been there before, so how he had gotten from the barricade to there was entirely beyond him. But where were his friends? How was he not dead? He could distinctly remember being shot in the chest, he knew it had happened, it had been right before he'd fallen and felt the sensation of spinning while everything was dark.

Yet there was no pain now, and he was fairly confident that he wasn't dead. Frustrated by the feeling of not knowing exactly where he was and what was going on, he sat up, ignoring the spinning in his head as he did so, and got to his feet. He stumbled slightly at first, but he stubbornly got himself out of the room he was in and into a hallway.

The strange, intricate stone architecture continued, puzzling him a bit. No building he had ever seen in Paris even vaguely resembled where he was now. It was all fancy, ornate. Not even Notre-Dame cathedral or the palace of Versailles could be compared to the architecture he was seeing. Versailles was lavish and luxurious to the point of being overwhelming, and Notre-Dame's medieval, Gothic, beautiful in an almost rough and intimidating way.

The frustration increased, and he chose to turn left, heading down the hallway towards what appeared to be a balcony. The sight he saw once he reached it was unlike anything he had ever glimpsed in his entire life.

The stone building he was in was nestled in what appeared to be a magnificent mountain range, with waterfalls cascading down the mountainside, cutting through glorious forests. Unlike what he had seen in France, rather than trying to alter the landscape to suit the plans of those who had built the cities, the environment appeared to have been taken into consideration in the planning, and the building had worked around it, using the cliffs, trees, and waterfalls to create something beautiful and otherworldly. He was sure Jehan would be completely in love with the place were he here. A lump caught in his throat at the thought of that. Jehan. Was he somehow alive, were his other friends?

At that moment, he saw a figure standing a few metres away from him, also looking out at the scenery. It was a girl, a rather skinny, pale one, with long, dark auburn hair, who for some reason felt familiar to him. After several seconds of staring, trying to figure out why she seemed familiar, it struck him.

"Éponine?" At the sound of her name, she turned, and he knew from her face that it was her. Cleaner – a lot cleaner, and not dying while covered in blood, but definitely her.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, looking at him, somewhat confused.

"You were at the barricade. I watched you die in Marius' arms," he replied.

Recognition flashed in her eyes. "Ah, yes, the bossy blond one. I thought I recognized you. Couldn't be sure though, since you're missing the tacky red vest. I'm surprised you even know my name."

"My vest is not tacky!" he retorted, offended momentarily at her criticism before realizing exactly what she had said. He glanced down quickly, and discovered that his vest was gone. "Wait, where is it?"

"Probably wherever my own clothes wound up," Éponine replied, and he noticed that she was wearing something different from what she'd worn at the barricade, her boy clothes replaced with a simple blue dress. Furthermore, her long hair was no longer tangled and messy, but clean and brushed.

"So, where are we?" Enjolras asked. She seemed to have some sort of idea of what was going on, and he wasn't pleased when she grimaced in response.

"That's a bit of a tricky question," she replied slowly after a moment. "We're not in Paris for starters, we're in a place called Rivendell. Which isn't in France either... It's in Middle Earth. I think we're in a completely different world."

"You're mad," Enjolras retorted immediately. "Either you're playing some sort of insane joke, or you're completely mad."

"It's neither, it's true," Éponine insisted. Her eyes flashed with annoyance at his quick, dismissive response. "You know what, blondie, come with me. I'll prove it." She grabbed his arm and began to drag him away.

"Where are we going?" he asked, feeling incredibly confused and annoyed. "And my name is Enjolras, by the way, not blondie."

"Well, too bad, I'm calling you blondie. As for where we're going, we're going to spy," she replied, dragging him behind her as she made her way down the hall. He was surprised by her strength. She was tiny, and he was much larger than her, but he found himself unable to get free.

"And what exactly are we going to spy on?" he asked, trying desperately to get his wrist free from her grasp.

She didn't even turn to look at him before answering. "There's some sort of secret meeting going on, and you and I are going to go find out exactly what weird situation we've managed to land in."