A/N: This is the point of view of a new OC that has yet to be fully introduced. Enjoy! Also, this is a slight AU because the Necromancer is a man in this, if you want to see a pic of him, there's a link on my profile page. I do not own the Hobbit or any of the characters accept my OC.

WARNING: Torture.

Jane's POV

Pain. I only remembered pain. I remembered the crack of a whip with many tongs. I remembered pain. I remembered a stinging pain. I remember a chilling voice, but I could not see its owner, I was blinded by the blood that dripped into my eyes. I could not compute what the voice said either…or I don't remember. My ears rang with the crack of the whip. I winced again, as the whiplash again could be heard, and sharp tongs cut into my bare back. Hot tears of pain started to form in my eyes, though I tried to fight them. I counted close to fifty lashes. My back stung and it felt hot as the marks burned and bled. I was almost relieved when the whipping ceased, only to be roughly shoved off the table, landing roughly on my already burning back. A steel boot kicked me and I felt a dagger rip across my cheek. I was kicked continuously, and then clubbed by harsh fists on my already bruised and broken body. A sharp pain went through my side as I was smacked by a mace and hurled against a wall, I slammed into it and at that moment, my world went black.

I woke up to dark, cold, dreary air and a dark, dungeon-like room lying in a scratchy mattress lying underneath a stiff sheet. My body felt tired and I ached all over. Though a quick investigation told me that I had been patched up and I had on a new shirt, as my other one, they had torn so my back was showing…so they could whip me. I cringed, as I could still hear the sound of the whip cracking. I investigated my bandages again, wondering who had patched me up. I heard footfalls suddenly, echoing, growing louder as they came closer. I quickly lay back down and turned my back so I was facing the darkened wall. I held my breath as the footfalls approached my bed and stopped. I felt a hand take me by the shoulder and shake me.

"Get up now, child," said a deep baritone voice, "I need to examine those wounds of yours." I sat up painfully and turned to look into the face of who spoke to me. Man or elf, I couldn't tell what he was, but he was tall and had a mysterious look about him; pale skin, long, silvery black hair that fell about his shoulders and matching grey eyes that, to me, looked very untrustworthy and unfriendly, but he was smiling, whether or not it was a real smile, I didn't know. He was clad in a black tunic, black trousers, a grey shirt, and chain mail.

"You're lucky I found you when I did. You were beaten and scratched up quite horribly." He said, "I patched up those wounds for you."

"Thank you." I replied.

"Of course," He said, "Come then, let me check those bandages."

"They're fine," I protested, not wanting the strange man to touch me more than he already had patching up my wounds.

He chuckled, "Let me at least put on fresh bandages for you."

"I'd rather you not. I can do it myself." I replied rudely.

"Quite the strong-willed one you are, my dear." He laughed, "Well, fine, have it your way." He tossed me a wad of bandages and I caught them, straining my sore body. "Patch up your wounds and hurry up, and then meet me downstairs." He turned and left, with me glaring daggers after him. I disliked him and I was, in no way, under any circumstances, going to trust him. As far as I knew, he could be faking all this gentle, nice behavior and he could have been the one that tortured me. I didn't remember much about that though, as I had been in so much pain that I didn't know. And another thing, I swore I recognized his voice, and not exactly in the best way…he had a voice similar to the one that had been curing and insulting me while I had been tortured. Well, regardless, I was NOT going to trust this strange man. He caused me to feel uncomfortable and uneasy, nervous. I had always been paranoid of strangers, but this was worse. I hated this man. Hated him and feared him so much that I wanted to take his life. Send my dagger right through his heart. That would be murder though, and I wasn't sure I wanted to commit that.

I dragged my tired, aching body painfully out of bed and bolted the shut door and studied my surroundings, I was in a very small room, dark, cold and made completely of stone, with only one small window to give a tiny bit of light. My bed was in a corner, and at the foot of it, was an old, cracked mirror. Horrid, black weapons hung on one of the walls, weapons that were evil-looking, such as those of orcs and goblins. The room reminded me of the one I had seen in The Return of the King movie I had watched back home, the one the orcs had out Frodo in…the one in the Tower of Cirith Ungol. When I had fallen through that portal in the band room to Middle Earth, I had not pictured my time here being like this….me, tortured and then trapped in this awful place. I huffed, plotting how I would escape this dungeon, and then embark to find the good people of Middle Earth. I didn't know how long that would take though, hell, I didn't even know what age of Middle Earth I was in! I guessed the time of "the Hobbit" because before I had been captured by orcs and brought here, I had met Beorn. I silently wished I hadn't left his home. I sighed and took off my grey shirt, washing and redressing my wounds rather quickly and then throwing it back on. I then put on my black leather vest, and knitted it loosely in the front, then tied on my belts and things I had found in a heap in a corner. I put my twin daggers in my belt, as well as a set of five throwing knives. I also stole a small set of heavy metal nunchucks from the weapon wall and tucked them into my belt. Then I started down the stairs to meet the strange man.

"There you are, my dear." Smiled the strange man when I arrived, "Took longer than I wanted, but that's alright. Come along now, I'm taking a walk and you are coming with me.

I nodded and put a hand around the handle of one of my daggers and followed him out the door and out of the fortress, keeping my hand wrapped tightly around my dagger. I was nearly blinded by the light of day, but it felt lovely to be out of the eerie fortress. It was a cold day, but it didn't matter to me.

"It's funny to have found a girl so young this far away from any civilization." He commented, "Tell me, how did you get here?"

"How I got here? I don't remember."

He gave me a questioning look, "Really?"

"I hit my head."

He chuckled.

"Who are you, anyway?" I asked.

He was silent for a moment.

Had to stop and think a moment…all the more reason not to trust you. I thought, figuring he didn't want to give his real name.

"I am he who walks unnamed." He replied.

I nodded, "Mmm hmm." I said, with a bit of sarcasm, "You know, you're very strange." I commented.

"So I know."

"You're a bit intimidating as well...with your mysterious face and your silvery black hair." I said, smiling to myself, as I was insulting him and he didn't even realize it.

"Is that a good or bad thing?"


We had walked a good distance and soon, a dark forest land loomed ahead of us; Mirkwood.

"Ahh, here we are; Mirkwood Forest. Come now, hurry." He walked swiftly to enter the forest, then stopped when he realized I wasn't following.

"Well, come along." He said.

"I don't think I want to." I said, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

"Nothing is going to happen to you, dear," I caught a sneer in his voice.

I stood my ground.

"Well don't you trust me?"

"About as far as I can throw you." I replied, "Which isn't very far."

He let out a small chuckle, "Smart girl; you shouldn't trust me." He said quietly.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"Nothing. You will come with me darling," he sneered, "Because if you don't, terrible things will await you." He threatened with an evil grin. I stared at him wide eyed before I nodded and followed him into Mirkwood.

"That's what I thought," he said, taking me roughly by the arm, wrapping his hand tightly around it, half-dragging me behind him. I knew then I was in danger and that I could not trust this man. I wrapped my other hand around one of my daggers, forcing myself not to cry out as his tight grasp shot immense pain through my arm. He led me into Mirkwood through thickly enveloped trees, back into darkness.

We stopped in a dense part of the forest and he let go out of my arm. I let out a sigh of relief and backed quickly away from him, tripping over a rough and ending up on my back.

"You had better not bolt, brat." He sneered, drawing out his long, sharp sword and rushing forward, pressing the sharp blade to my neck, leaning in too close to my face.

"I wasn't planning on it." I said icily, "Now please, get out of my face." I hissed.

He glared at me before getting up and putting away his sword. He kicked me sharply in my already bruised side, making me squeal.

"You're welcome, Sweetie." He jeered. Then he approached me again, "But, I don't usually listen to anyone when they tell me what to do." He pressed his heavy metal boot against my stomach and I winced in pain, my eye's rolling back and my gaze and head spinning as the immense pain went through my body.

"Listen, Pet," he snarled, "You don't know who you're speaking to. And you better watch it. I am the Necromancer, and I can and will kill you if I must." He took his boot off of me and grabbed me by my hair, pulling me up roughly, "Now get up, you little rat."

The Necromancer! I was facing Sauron himself! I'm gonna kill him!

I picked myself off the ground and he released his grip on my hair. At that moment I grabbed my dagger, held it in a striking position, grabbed the Necromancer's shoulder and lunged forward, plunging my dagger into the middle of his chest. He led out a cry of pain and I backed up swiftly. His eyes blazed with a horrible, fiery rage and he reared up angrily, making him look twice his size, causing me to feel small. He charged forward toward me, holding his mace. He swung it and it he me in the stomach and I was thrown roughly. I flew a bit and landed, my body smacking hard against the ground. I pulled myself painfully up, leaving a puddle of blood from where I had been struck by the mace. My body ached, and I felt a bit light headed, yet the Necromancer was rushing at me and I responded by throwing a knife at him, which he veered away from.

"You're little weapons are no match for me!" he said approaching me fast, the mace struck me hard again, and I fell, rolling out of his way, avoiding another deadly swing. I got to my feet, and despite my immense pain and light-headedness, I took off running through the dense trees, the sharp branches tearing and grabbing at my body drawing several bloody scratches and gashes. I heard the loud noise of a blade cutting the branches and leaves and I knew that the Necromancer was close behind. I continued running, hearing only my gasping breath and the slashing of the sword. Suddenly, I got myself tangled up in an envelope of huge, sharp thorns. I frantically scrambled to rip myself free, looking behind me in horror as the Necromancer's footfalls grew closer and closer and he came into view, his eyes blazing with fury, his face scraped up by the thorns. Finally, I managed to tear myself away from the thorns, falling to the ground, landing painfully. I let out a cry of pain and tried to get up, but my vision was clouding, and I had grown so weak, that I could not. I was terribly wounded and I think I bled from just about everywhere. I heard the Necromancer's footfalls directly in my ears and he stopped in front of me, I looked up to see his now tattered and scratched form.

"You're finished, darling." He snarled. He rose up his sword and stabbed it downward, into my stomach. I screamed in pain and agony. Then, at that moment, I heard the sound of whistling arrows and light footfalls and figures began to whiz passed me, attacking the Necromancer. They were tall, beautiful, and agile; elves. I didn't know how long it lasted, as my vision was too fuzzy to really see. I heard lots of yelps and cries of pain and voices yelling in the Elvish tongue. I felt myself clouding out when it all stopped, the blade was pulled from my stomach, and I saw a fine Elvish face before me; blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful.

"Can you hear me?" He called, "Are you alright? Stay with me, alright, we'll get you to my father soon, he'll heal you." I felt strong arms pick me up in a bridal fashion, and run off swiftly… that was the last thing I remembered.


My eye's blinked open to immense sunlight streaming in. I was lying in a large room, in a huge, soft feather bed. I felt no pain. I felt…normal. I then sighed with relief and burst into a few tears…I was safe, and no longer felt afraid. I sat up in my bed, blinking open my eyes and when I did, I nearly gasped; my vision was so bright and clear. I was wearing a satin green elvish dress, plain, but comfortable. Then I heard light footfalls echo across the stone floor and an elf entered my room, the same one that had saved me from the Necromancer. God, now that I got a good look at him, he was gorgeous.

"You're awake." He said, a warm smile on his face, "How are you feeling?"

"I feel…normal." I answered, "I mean…better…better than I did the last time I was awake.

He chuckled, "I'm glad to know that you feel better. You were covered in wounds when my patrol found you, about month ago."

"I've been asleep for that long?"

He nodded, "You were covered in so many wounds and so much blood that we had to wash you before we could tend to your wounds, and then it took the master healing of both my father and Tauriel to heal you."

"Wow." Was all I could say.

"How long did the Necromancer hold you hostage?" he asked.

"I don't know… I just know he tortured me." I replied bluntly, wanting to end this conversation.

"Well, I won't ask about it anymore," he said gently with a smile, "It bothers you very much. Come then, let us go down and meet the others." He took my hand and helped me out of bed. I was surprised to find that I was only a bit shorter than him. "I'm Legolas by the way," he said, "And who are you?"

Legolas! My Lord of the Rings crush aside from Aragorn!

"Jane Laertes Johansson, though I to be called Loki or even Laer, though I do not like being called Jane."

"That's an interesting name, not one common around here." Legolas said, "Where did you come from, may I ask?"

"Earth. A place years and years after this time period, I fell through a portal and ended up here."

"How interesting." Legolas said, "You ought to tell me more about that when you get the chance."

"I will." I said, smiling.

Legolas led me down winding stairs into a large dome-shaped room. A red-haired she elf was standing beside a throne in which sat an elf older than Legolas, yet bearing a striking resemblance to him with an odd-looking crown atop his head.

"Awake at last." Said the elf on the throne. Legolas approached the foot of it and bowed low, then stood his full height.

"Ada," he said, "Allow me to introduce Jane Laertes Johansson."

Wow, good memory, I thought, It takes most people literally twenty times before they can finally say my name correctly.

I curtsied, realizing this must be the Elven king Thranduil. "It's a pleasure, my Lord." I said.

"Likewise." He replied, giving a curt nod.

"You've healed up nicely." Said the she-elf, "And beautifully. I'm Tauriel." She curtsied and I curtsied back.

"You're lucky my son found you when he did, Jane." Thranduil said, "You were scratched up quite badly and it took both Tauriel and I's skills to heal you." He stopped abruptly and looked at the two younger elves, who nodded solemnly, and I looked on puzzled.

"Yet though we attended to all your wounds and healed them as best we could," Tauriel began, "We...It wasn't enough."

"Wha…what do you mean?"

"I mean that, we were too late, your life was fading for you." Her eyes grew a bit misty and she choked up and trailed off.

Legolas finished, "My father had to turn you into one of us…into an Elf. You would've died if we did not. You're sword-wound was beyond our aid."

What!? I was an elf…I didn't know whether to be happy or sad.

"You're a very fine one, though." Thranduil said, "You're lucky."

"See for yourself." Tauriel said, giving me a silver hand mirror. I lifted to my face and nearly gasped, I was tall and beautiful, like all elves. I looked older than fifteen. My emerald green eyes shined brighter than before and my black hair was long and straight, with waves and crimps about it, stretching down almost to my waist. I really was an elf…and more beautiful than ever…yet I still didn't believe it was me in the reflection of that mirror.

A/N: Whew, this one was a pain to write, I'll tell you. I'm glad it's done and i'm quite proud of it. This is a new OC that I added in. Hint: she's going to have a pretty big role later on. I hope you all like her. She, like our favorite trio of girls, *cough, cough* Millie, Sam, and Lizzie, is originally from Earth and she does know them. You'll see soon enough.


EDUCATION TIME! (I promise it'll be interesting…but if you don't know the Avengers, you won't get this.): Laertes is a masculine greek name and it means "Avenger"… and one of her nicknames is Loki. First name; Jane, last name; Johansson, middle name means "Avenger", nicknames are Loki and Laer (LIE-ER), how's that? Anyway, next chapter will probably be up tomorrow or this evening later on, so stay tuned and don't forget to follow favorite and review!