1. The One Chapter
Suddenly, the door opened, and he sat up, alert. In entered a girl, human, and very young (in elven years). She had shoulder-length hair, which was dark and set up in a ponytail. The girl was tall and skinny, wore a green shirt with a picture of a turtle on it, and green leggings. She carried a tray, which held buttered bread and wine. She approached him and looked at him with a smile. He did not return it.
“Who are you, and where am I?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry, Legolas, but I-”
“How do you know my name?!” he interrupted, more alarmed than ever. He reached for his weapons, but they were not there.
“Oh, many know your name here,” she said with a large grin. “But I cannot give you any information. Regulations and all. My name is Rachel.” She put the tray down on his lap, and sat down beside him. “Well, eat up.”
He picked up a piece of bread and sniffed at it cautiously. He WAS hungry…
She smiled and stood up. “After you eat, you are free to explore the other rooms, and meet other people. But I must ask you not to touch anything shiny, nor to eat any chocolate. The Head will get pretty pissed off if you do.”
“Never mind. Now eat up!” Rachel grinned again and bounced out of the room.
Legolas sniffed at the bread again, but put it down. He was much too curious to bother with eating, as hungry as he was. He stood up and crossed the room to the door. He hesitated, but turned the doorknob and opened the door.
What met him was even more curious than what was inside the room. There were two men, both extremely different from each other, leaning against the wall. One was very young, around fifteen, and he had slick blond hair. He wore black robes, and had a very smug look on his face. He glanced at the elf, rolled his eyes, and turned his head back to a door he was concentrating on.
The other one was older, about middle aged. He wore a strange assortment of clothing, which included a red scarf on his head, large boots, and a baggy white shirt. He wore black eyeliner around his eyes, and he had a bored expression upon his face. He looked over at Legolas and scowled, muttering, “Another one.”
“Pardon me?” the prince asked the man.
“You. Another look-alike. You're the second Will I’ve seen today.”
“Pardon?” Legolas raised an eyebrow.
The man rolled his eyes. “You’re new here, I guess.” He stood up straight, and looked at him up and down. “So, who’re you?”
Legolas crossed his arms. “Should you not first introduce yourself?”
“Oh pardon me, I’ve forgotten my manners,” the man said sarcastically. “Captain Jack Sparrow. Now who the bloody ‘ell are you?”
“Legolas, son of Thranduil, king of Mirkwood,” he said.
Jack nodded. “Prince, eh? Interesting… you said Legless, right?”
“Legolas,” the elf corrected, annoyed with this man.
“Right. Well, Legolas… well, since you have no idea where the bloody ‘ell you are, I better give you the rundown. Welcome to planet Earth, year 2004.” Legolas looked at him blankly. “You don’t know what planet Earth is, eh?” Legolas shook his head. “Right. Well, you are in another world, to put it right. For myself this is just the future of my own world… anyhow, some crazy girls all took us out of our appropriate worlds, or time, and brought us to their world. They have been pulling us out for the last year or so, but it has been dying down a bit… I think they are near finished. What they plan to do… who knows?”
Legolas stared at the man like he was insane. Jack shrugged at him. “It’s true, whether you believe it or not. I myself have been here for about nine months… pretty boring, but you get used to it. But don’t try escaping- it’s impossible. Besides, if you even manage to get off the grounds, you’ll be killed by this world- it’s a nuthouse, I swear. I still remember good ol’ Luke…” He shook his head sadly.
“How do you know all this?” the prince demanded.
“Listened, o’ course. You learn a lot by listening to these chatty girls. But one thing’s for certain- they have been extremely excited today, and its something about you. There’s even talk of the Head coming out.”
“Who is this Head?”
“Dunno. Draco here thinks its some recreation of whatshisname… uh… Voldemort, yea, that’s it.
The blond haired boy, or Draco, glared at Jack then continued looking at the door, muttering, “You can’t hide forever, Potter…”
Legolas shook his head, and passed Jack and Draco. He walked down the hall a bit, passing other doors and corridors, seeing no one else. He walked until he came to a dark black door, unlike the others. His curiosity getting the best of him, he reached for the handle.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He swerved around and saw another young girl. She had light curly hair, and wore a plaid dress. “My name’s Lindsey. Come on, Legolas, let’s go back to your room.”
“Why shouldn’t I go in there?” he asked her.
She gulped. “That’s the Head’s quarters, that is. Don’t go in. I'm warning you.”
He shook his head, and opened the door.
Darkness. That is all the young elf knew. Everything disappeared; the walls, the door, everything. Everything, that is, except for a screen. He saw the most frightening images on this screen… too frightening for a PG rating. Then suddenly, he heard a voice.
“Seven days until you die,” it whispered. Out of the darkness came the most frightening little girl. Her long dark hair covered her pale face. He looked at her in horror, and prayed for the Valar to help him. Then suddenly-
The author reached her 1000 word limit. Damn it.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.