The Forgotten Ones [Legolas fanfic]

Chapter 1: The Room

A whirring sound fills the air.

I'm lying down. On my bed, I suppose, by the soft cloth underneath my fingers. I open my eyes slowly, fearing the bright light that might blind me one day. It feels like I've been sleeping for ages.

I find the source of the whirring.

I open my eyes to sharp blades swiftly rotating above my head.

"Balrog of Morgorth!" I yell, instinctively reaching for my two trusty knives that I keep by my bed. Struggling to find them, I stumble off the bed and onto the ground, hitting the cold surface with a thump. I hurridly crawl away from the spinning blades to find my bow and arrow which are hanging on the wall next to my ribbons from the archery competition we Woodlanders hold each century, but only find empty wall.

And not the wall in my own majestic cavern-like room. A wall made of some unknown material.

This is when I hesitate.

I look around, first taking note that the flying blades stay put on the ceiling harmlessly. This is not my room. Where am I? There is a bed, which I woke up on, and a small desk and matching chair which is located at the opposite corner of the room. There is also a single window which is covered by a smooth, transparent material, most likely to block out the wind and rain. The walls are painted a faint, ugly yellow and the dull, grey floor is also something I have never laid eyes on. It is a simple room despite the strange things, very different from my own room that was, of course, fit for a prince, but my eyes are continuously drawn to a weird box with glowing symbols on the side.

I start to walk over to the table to examine the strange box, but I suddenly feel fatigue over my entire body. I stumble and instincts make my hands grab out for anything to support myself. I find myself clutching the edge of the night table which, unfortunately, was weak and fell over with me, crashing as it hit the ground.

I see from the corner of my eye that the box had fallen and broken in half, symbols no longer glowing. I feel disappointed for a second, but quickly forget about this as the pain from my knee suddenly grew very intense.

I sit up and examine the area of injury, feeling with my fingers that it would just be a bruise, nothing extreme that needed treatment.

I stand up, leaving the night table and box on the cold floor, feeling slightly annoyed with them. I brush my hands off on my legs and then notice a door. It is located at the wall opposite of the bed. It is a even lighter shade of yellow than the walls and has dents following the border as a design. I walk over carefully, noting my previous tiredness, and attempt to open the door. But this door has not a swinging handle, nor a curved one. This door has a handle that looks like a ball.

I observe the strange handle, making sure it really is just a regular handle. It did not appear to be some kind of trap, so I cautiously touch the nub-like handle. Nothing happens. I let a breath out and try pulling the door open slowly, hand on the nub, but it won't budge. I find this weird and then pull with more strength. The door jiggles a little in its place between the pale walls. This is when I use all my might. I pull and tug and eventually have my leg on the wall to help support me.

The door did move. But not the way I wanted it to.

I, without meaning to, had pulled the door off its hinges and now rubbing my bruised bottom. The door had suddenly given up its place at the opening and I was flung backwards onto the hard floor.

"Well at least I can get out." I mumble to myself, a little shaken.

I stand back up and lean the now piece of wood on the wall, near the opening of where the door used to be. It is a hallway outside the room. The hallway is also, like the room, plain. This hallway, though, has nothing whatsoever even close to furnishing or decoration. The walls are made of the same cold material as the floor.