Hello, and welcome back to Living Dead (A Legolas Love Story) by Olivia’s the New King Under the Mountain! I’m your host, SC, and last time, dead chicks had a conversation, and Sean is very definitely getting the third-wheel shaft.
We come now to chapter three, entitled, “Whats Florida?”
Herr, I’m so sorry.
And because the author assumes us all to be goldfish:
*Just a reminder, words in This font are thoughts
That will never matter to me, because as I’ve mentioned already, Quotev fonts don’t register on my blog. I’ll just take those reminders out from now on.
“Is she awake?”
“I don’t know”
“Where did you find her?”
“Is she going to be okay?”
RIVETING UNATTRIBUTED DIALOGUE!
I heard people talking in the darkness. One of the voices, the second one I think, sounded like an old man and the other four sounded very young, couldn’t have been more than 20.
Pretty sure nobody in the trilogy was (too far) under thirty. Aragorn was in his eighties (meaning that humans must age slower than in real life, because he still looked fairly young despite that), Legolas is a couple thousand years old, Gandalf… don’t ask, and even Merry and Pippin, the youngest in the group, were almost forty and thirty, respectively. So, basically, you’re only one right for two out of five people.
I slowly opened my eyes, expecting to see Sean, standing above me, waiting for me to wake up. But he wasn’t there.
And he never will be again, either.
Instead, there was an young man, with bright blue eyes and black curly hair. He was standing right above me face. I shrieked in surprise and fell off the bed, right onto my arm.
“Sh*t!” I gasped.
Also, there’s no need to censor yourself. I’m fairly doubtful any unspoilt eyes are going to be reading this garbage. I mean, look at me.
Holding my arm, I got up and sat on the bed. I was right, there was an old man and four young people, but they were younger than I had predicted. They we’re all very short, and they we’re wearing no shoes to cover up their big feet.
“Young” for a hobbit is a full-grown human adult. Bilbo is 128 when Frodo sets out on his journey, for reference. He was 111 when he conferred the ring to Frodo, and Frodo waited another seventeen years in the books before he finally set out. Frodo was 33 when Bilbo gave him the ring. That means that, at present, he is 50 years old in Rivendell. That ain’t young, toots.
Also, the word is WERE. Not we’re.
Then I noticed what I was wearing. Oh look, another stupid link in place of actual description. Terrific.
That link leads to an outfit which is actually rather charming, and would look better on anybody else but Alicia. Also, if that’s what she was SLEEPING in… shit, do the elves of Rivendell not have nightclothes?
I looked up at the old man. “Where am I?” I asked.
The man turned to the other four. “Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, I think you should be off now.” He said. Frodo? thats a weird name.
It’s not that weird. It’s certainly a lot more tame than, say, Celebrian. Or Saruman.
Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry walked out of the room and through a big arch-way. I then noticed my surroundings. I was in a big room, with large windows that had no glass and big arch-ways for doors. Outside, the entire city was bathed in nature, flowers, trees and springs everywhere.
Ugh. An unfortunate trend in LOTR fics of this nature is that the story ALWAYS kicks off in poor Imladris – Rivendell, to those who don’t know. It’s the place where the fellowship is first formed and the mission to destroy the One Ring is laid out at the Council of Elrond, so I kind of get it; but I mean, yes it’s a charming place, but why can’t authors start in, I dunno, Bree? Where the hobbits first meet Aragorn? Or the Shire, where all the hobbits live? Or fucking Lothlorien, where Galadriel gives everybody sweet loot for their journey (including three golden locks of her own hair to Gimli, a gesture so profound that not even the greatest elf who ever was could score so much as ONE from her)?
Rivendell isn’t the only charming place in the series, people, and I’m sure Elrond is sick of taking in little spotlight-stealing assholes.
It was beautiful.
Imladris is very scenic, she’s not wrong.
I turned to the old man who was calmly staring at me.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name is Gandalf.”
“Where am I?” I asked again.
“You’re in Rivendale.” Gandalf replied. Rivendale? I’ve never heard of Rivendale.
Because it doesn’t exist in Middle-Earth.
Gandalf, the Valar are very disappointed with you.
“And Where’s that?” I asked.
“Middle Earth,” Came his reply. I sat there confused. Didn’t he mean Earth, not Middle Earth?
“Don’t you mean Earth?” I asked.
“No I mean Middle Earth.
Gandalf means what he says, and says what he means. You cannot tell him that he is wrong, dumbass.
And Where do you hail from?”
“I’m from Florida.” I said. Gandalf cocked his head at me and looked at me with a confused expression.
“I’ve never heard of Florida.” He said.
“Well I’ve never heard of Rivendale.” I said. He nodded at me, with a concern written all over his face.
“Are you sure it’s not Earth?” I asked again, just to make sure I wasn’t going crazy.
“Yes. I’m pretty sure there’s a ‘Middle’ somewhere in there.” He said, nodding. That’s when it hit me.
Also, she rather perfectly nailed sassy Gandalf, gotta give her points there.
Are you for fucking real.
“So does that mean I can go back?” Hope filled my heart.
“Not exactly, but yes”
I’m not supposed to care about this, right? Because I saw this plot twist coming a mile away.
~End of Flash Back~
Oh. Well that was short.
Also, Olivia, flashback is a single word. Get it right.
Then I knew what Justine had meant. I was going back, but not to my world. I was never going to see Sean again.
“No, no, no, no, no, no!” I yelled, frantically searching my self. I let out a sigh of relief when I found my mother’s necklace and Sean’s ring still safe and sound, on my finger and neck. But I was still never going to see Sean, my family, or Kate ever again.
Huh, so she does still give a shit about Sean. Okay, that’s cool I guess. I’m still not fond of how the author decided to write him out of the story, but whatever.
I was grateful that I’d never have to see Megan again, but I’d still miss our little fights.
It’s okay, the feeling isn’t mutual.
My heart clenched and i felt my self passing out.
Let me guess: you were hoping to make it look like an accident so nobody would trace or back to you?
Shades: Not that I would need the cover. But then I remembered that this bint is protected by a FUCKING COMPUTER SCREEN.
Which you owe me yet another new one of, by the way.
“You know, I don’t take kindly to guests making my patients pass out.” A voice came behind me. I turned around to see Lord Elrond.
Elrond is sick of your shit, Gandalf.
“I didn’t mean to. I just asked her where she was from.” I said.
*Gandalf* “I thought it was a rather simple question, myself.”
“And where is that?”
“I do not believe that she is of this earth. She told me that she was from a place called Florida and that she had never heard of Rivendale. She also thought that I was crazy because she told me that she was from Earth and not Middle Earth.” I said.
*Elrond* “And you are certain, Gandalf, that she was not simply delirious from whatever it was that helped her find her way to Imladris?”
Elrond paused to look at the girl’s sleeping body on the bed.
“That’s odd. A she-elf that isn’t from Middle Earth.”
Do… do LOTR badfic authors not know that humans are a race in Middle-Earth? A very prominent, important race who were once at their absolute peak, but then got kicked back down to the dirt when Sauron started messing shit up? Because it’s ALWAYS, “I’m such-and-such-part elf!” and never, “I’m just some human kid who got here because the plot said so.”
*sigh* Whatever, I guess I’m dealing with another one of these.
But not this chapter, because this chapter’s over! (Yes, that abrupt end is where the actual chapter cuts off.)
Thanks for reading, folks, and stay tuned for next chapter! Probably, Alicia shoehorns her way into the Fellowship. Because every fucking badfic author for this fandom does that with their Sues. In the meantime, I’m SC, and I’ll see you next time!
…So is this an off-week for you? Because usually, you don’t get fooled into shooting my screen. Like ever.
Shades: I may be sleep deprived. Went on a Silent Hill binge again.
That would do it.