190~One Ring to rule them all,
One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all,
And may the odds be ever in your favour.~
This is EXTREMELY AU! Characters will most likely act a little OOC, and they will all be humans. I will try to keep them as close to their book selves, but they will not be exact.
Information of Tributes and Mentors! (The numbers are their ages)
Legolas- District One-18
Aragorn- District Two-18
Frodo- District Four-16
Gimli- District Five -17
Pippin-District Six -13
Merry-District Ten-14
Samwise-District Eleven-15
Boromir-District Twelve-18
Gandalf- Mentor for Four. (Frodo's Mentor)
Galadriel- Mentor for One (Female Mentor) (Not very relevant though)
Glorfindel- Mentor for One (Legolas's Mentor)
Elrond- Mentor for Two (Aragorn's Mentor)
Haldir- Mentor for Seven (though there is really not a Mentor since nobody's from Seven)
Balin- Mentor for Five (Gimli's Mentor)
Théoden- Mentor for Ten {Since he is the Horse Lord, and District Ten is Cattle} (Merry's Mentor)
Paladin- Mentor for Six (Pippin's Mentor) {Not his Father in this story}
Beregond- Mentor for Twelve (Boromir's Mentor)
Gaffer- Mentor for Eleven. (Sam's Mentor) {Not his Father in this story}
Sauron- President
Morgoth- The President before Sauron
Saruman- The Head Game Maker!
I put them in those Districts based off of their looks, and some of their personal traits. Well, there were only two Fellowship members that were based off of their personal traits; Sam (because he liked to garden since Eleven is Agriculture) and Frodo (Because his parents died in a boat crash) Pippin and Merry were just put into random districts, though I put Pippin in Six because there's a bunch of druggies (Since they are Transportation and Medicine) there, and, as according to Merry, Pippin smokes too much. It was just a little personal laughing thing. Merry's in District Ten because it is Cattle and such, and since he swears allegiance to Théoden, I thought that it would be fitting for him to be in District Ten.
"May the odds be ever in your favour!" The escort woman, dressed in bright neon green, exclaimed; her eyes, which were a bright yellow, were glinting with excitement. Boromir Stewart sighed to himself, hoping that this year, he would be spared like he had been for the past five years. Being eighteen, this was the last time being in the Reaping draw, and he hoped that he would make it out alive.
His grey eyes searched behind him, over the countless black haired-heads, the occasional blond mixing in with the black. In the thirteen-year-old section, he found his little brother, Faramir, standing, looking around the crowd, a nervous expression on his face. Boromir knew that Faramir was terrified that he would be drawn, and when their eyes met, Boromir gave Faramir a reassuring smile.
"Ladies first!" The bright green escort shouted to the crowd. Boromir's eyes narrowed in dislike, and he averted his eyes; the woman's costume was too bright, and it was starting to hurt his eyes. Boromir drew in his breath as her high heels clacked loudly against the stage as she ran to the microphone. Dramatically pausing, she unfolded the name, and then gave a little smile. "Ioreth Stellar!"
Boromir watched as the crowd parted to reveal a girl, shaking in her shoes, wearing a dress made of burlap. She was much too thin to be healthy, and she was rather short. Her black hair was chopped short at her chin, and her grey eyes flashed around the crowd, hoping that somebody would volunteer for her, but, a Tribute in District Twelve was considered dead as soon as their name was drawn, and nobody uttered anything as she made her way to the stage. When she was on the stage, Boromir noticed that her olive toned skin had paled quite noticeably.
"Congratulations, Ioreth!" The escort said, and Boromir shook his head. There was no joy in being selected as Tribute in the Hunger Games for anybody in District Twelve. Ioreth was still shaking, and Boromir could tell she was taking in deep breaths to comfort herself as she looked out at the crowd to see who was going to be her fellow Tribute. The green woman's smile grew, as she said, "Now, for the boys!"
Apart from the weeping of Ioreth's mother, all of District Twelve was silent. The escort's hand wavered over the names as her hand flitted from name to name, until, eventually she picked one up in her fingers. She pranced over to the stage, and then unfolded the name, pausing yet again to increase the nerves of the people of District Twelve, and to create suspense for the people of the Capitol.
"And the male Tribute from District Twelve is..." She unfolded the name, and gave a little smile, "Boromir Stewart!"
Boromir blinked as his classmates moved away from him like he had the plague. He said nothing as he began to walk towards the stage. Looking back over his shoulder after he heard the sound of a fight, he saw Faramir trying to reach him through the Peace Keepers. Boromir shook his head; telling him to not volunteer for him. Boromir knew that he stood little chance, but he also knew that Faramir had an even smaller chance to make it out of the games alive.
Faramir stopped struggling, and Boromir gave him a small smile. The smile remained on his face as she reached the stage, but it quickly disappeared once he looked out at the crowd of District Twelve. He took in a deep breath as he looked out at his home for most likely the last time. He turned, and shook Ioreth's hand before they were lead into the Justice Building and into separate rooms.
Well, Boromir thought, let the Games begin.
Legolas Greenleaf grinned to himself. At eighteen years old, he had been training for this day ever since he could walk on two legs. Though his slight figure was somewhat deceiving to the eye, Legolas was strong, and talented when it came to weapons. His blond hair hung down his back, and he had the front two pieces braided, and then tied behind his head. His green eyes narrowed slightly, as he smoothed out a wrinkle in his green shirt.
He patted down his brown pants, and gently clipped on the leaf pin that had been passed down from his family. It had started with his mother; one of the Victors of District One, and was handed down to his eldest brother when she had died of an illness. Now, it was in Legolas's hands. As the youngest boy of the Greenleaf family, Legolas had a lot to live up to. Though only his older sister and his second eldest brother had made it out of the Hunger Games alive, all of his other siblings had been in the top three remaining Tributes.
Each time they returned, the pin was either handed to the younger sibling, or taken off of the shirt of the cold body before they nailed the wooden box shut and buried them. Legolas gave a sad smile as he remembered taking the pin from his older brother's body, which had been torn to pieces by a mutt. Now, it was his, and Legolas planned to become a Victor in it.
Legolas was determined to win these Games. Though he knew that it may be tough with his fellow Tribute from One, and the other Tributes from Two and Four, who all trained like he had been doing all of his life. He had heard other Tributes on the Hunger Games calling them the Careers; Tributes who thought that the Hunger Games was a job that they had to do. Legolas grinned at this; it wasn't a job, it was upholding family honour and showing which District was the strongest.
Though Two had won last year, Legolas knew that this year, the Games would go to the boy from One. Legolas had planned this ever since he had heard about the man who was to be his Mentor. Glorfindel; the man who had won his Hunger Games in the shortest time recorded, was going to be the Mentor of the male Tribute from One, and Legolas knew that having him as the Mentor would mean that he had an experienced Mentor. There would be no way that he would not win.
But, there was one problem that Legolas still had to face before he became the Victor from One, and that was actually being able to volunteer. Volunteering in One was dangerous almost; boys and girls fighting to be the first on the stage, but Legolas had also planned this out as well. Being eighteen, it meant that he stood at the front of the crowd, and in the easiest place to run to the stage.
Giving himself one last grin, Legolas bounded down the stairs of his home, and opened the door. The sky threatened rain, but Legolas did not care; perhaps the weather would be better in the Capitol. Making his way to where the Reaping was to be held, Legolas then strategically set himself up closer to the stage so he could easily make his way up the stairs.
He looked at the man from the Capitol, dressed in a furry purple coat, with pink eyelashes, and more makeup on than what Legolas had seen on a girl in his District, and waited. The girls always went first, and that was the painful part of the Reaping for him. Countless girls fought and struggled to get to the stage even before the name was announced, and finally, one of them made it.
Her blonde hair had been in a ponytail, but it had been pulled out by the many girls fighting to get to the stage. She beamed a smug smile, showing off her straight teeth, her green eyes flashing with pride. She strutted over to the microphone, and then announced her name to the grumbling girls and the crowd. "I am Sparkle Sprinkle!"
Legolas studied her, and after he deemed her not to be much of a threat, he positioned himself to get to the stage. His escort had not even the time to finish stating the name when Legolas dashed to the stage with a short, "I volunteer!"
Being quick, Legolas made it to the stage before half of the other boys wanting to volunteer even flinched, and he stood, looking over the crowd, a small smile resting upon his lips. So, he had done it. He had made it to the Hunger Games. Without being asked, Legolas walked over to the microphone, and announced, "I am Legolas Greenleaf."
Their escort seemed to be amused at this, and said, "Another Greenleaf, eh? In the past six years, a Greenleaf has always been in the games! You'll be the seventh!"
Legolas nodded in acknowledgement to the escort, as he then shook hands with Sparkle. As they were being led into the Justice Building, Legolas let his hair fall over the side of his face, and gave Sparkle a rather menacing smile. In return, she gave him one back, but Legolas could not help but notice the fear that had struck into her eyes as he did this. Smirking, Legolas knew that these Games were to be his.
Peregrin Took, preferably called Pippin, was carelessly munching away at his apple as he mulled about in the thirteen-year-old section for the Reaping. Having three older sisters, Pippin was quite used to his parents doting on them instead of him. Frankly, the only things he really cared about at this moment were his apple, and the Reapings at hand. He hoped he wouldn't be drawn, for it would probably mean that he was going to die at thirteen years old. That was something he would have rather avoided, since he knew that dead people couldn't eat anything.
He looked around the crowd for his older sister, who was standing in the sixteen-year-old section, chatting nervously with some of her friends. His other two sisters had already made it through the Reapings without being drawn, and Pippin hoped that he would have the same luck as them. But, Pippin was never really a lucky fellow, so he couldn't really rely on luck to keep him out of the Games.
The woman from the Capitol, who was to be the Tributes' escort, was dressed like she was some sort of exotic bird. Though Pippin didn't really pay attention in school, he recognized some of the feathers from a book that he had read as a little kid. It bothered him for quite some time, in fact throughout her whole speech, until Pippin remembered what bird it was; a peacock. This woman had short peacock feathers sticking out from her eyelashes, and Pippin was very distracted by them as she continued to talk on about the glory of being in the Hunger Games.
Pippin had to admit, the woman looked like the feathers showering her body were ruffled when she realized that nobody as listening to her speech, and she gave a little frown. But, she demanded attention when she said "As always, ladies first!" and stalked over to the glass globe of names and jabbed her hand into it. She swirled her hand around dramatically, like they always did, and Pippin watched as she finally snatched a name up in her hands.
Walking over to the microphone, she unfolded the name, and then announced, "Diamond Longcleeve!"
Pippin's heart sunk a little when he realized that the girl that was drawn was his class, and he had been friends with her for the longest time. He watched as Diamond slowly moved her feet, trying to tell herself to move, though she barely could. Her face had paled, and Pippin could see that she was sniffling; trying to fight back tears. Pippin knew that if he could see it, then all of Panem would be able to see that Diamond was crying.
He felt bad for Diamond, as most of the crowd probably did, but he soon learned that he would not be able to feel bad for Diamond much longer. The peacock lady (who Pippin decided that he disliked greatly) then walked over to the boy's globe, and stuck her hand into the names. It seemed to take an eternity before she pulled out the name, and slowly spoke it out to the world. "Peregrin Took!"
Pippin's apple dropped from his hand, but he said or felt nothing as he made his way up to the stage. Vaguely, he heard his mother screaming, as well as his older sisters, but he made no sign that he knew who they were. He stared out at District Six, and then sighed to himself. So, he thought as he shook hands with Diamond, I'm going to die this year... really soon. He gave Diamond a little nod as his thoughts continued, At least the food in the Capitol will be good.
But, even with that thought, Pippin couldn't bring himself to smile or look forward to what was to come.
The Reaping in District Ten was often held in the late afternoon, like it was to be this year. As the District that raised cattle for Panem, this was something that the people of the District appreciated, and what they needed. Though every member of the District wore a secret hate for the Capitol and its people over their heart, they had to spend a little of their gratefulness for this. But to speak true, it was spent rather grudgingly.
Meriadoc Brandybuck, however, did not like the fact that the Reapings were rather late in the afternoon. He sighed to himself as he finally finished milking the cows that were assigned to him. If the Reapings had been earlier, than Merry perhaps wouldn't be doing this. But, he thought to himself; that would mean that he would be a Tribute in this year's Hunger Games, and that was something that he would rather not do.
He hauled all of the buckets of milk to the machine, where the amount of milk he had gotten today was weighed. Merry watched as the numbers popped on the screen with each bucket that he added. When he had no more buckets to put on the scale, Merry pressed the button telling the machine he had no more, and the buckets were then taken into the machine. In return, it spat out some coins, and Merry pocketed them before returning to his home.
The streets of District Ten had the faint smell of the manure from the animals in which they held there, but since he grew up in the District, Merry didn't notice it at all. The dirt path was crowded with workers who finished their work like Merry had, and were not returning to their homes to get dressed up for the Reaping. Merry didn't pay any attention to anybody as he reached his crowded home.
Taking to his section of the house, he changed out of his work pants, which had multiple patches on them from all of the rips, and there were milk and dirt stains that would never come out of them. Merry reached into his drawer, and dressed in the pants he only got to where on special occasions. Why the Reaping was considered a special occasion, Merry did not know, but all he knew was that he was going to be shown to all of Panem (maybe not, but perhaps). Therefore, Merry would wash and dress up for the cameras, even though he hardly did that any other time.
He finished washing and dressing; he combed his hand through his wet curls, and then shook his head gently. Water droplets hit the floor, and Merry took in a deep breath before he began to walk to the fourteen-year-old section. He saw his friends standing near him, and he made light chatter with them, before he looked up at the strange man from the Capitol.
He was dressed in purple, but he had orange skin, and his hair was purple as well. To accent the purple and orange, the man was wearing purple lipstick. Merry had to say he had never seen that much makeup on a face; a girl or a boy's. He gave a wide smile to the crowd, and then walked over to the glass ball, and pulled out a name. Merry drew in his breath before the name was read.
"And now, the lady Tribute of District Ten..." He unfolded the paper, and read aloud, "Estella Bolger!"
Merry let out his breath, and then searched the crowd for Estella. If she was shocked, or unhappy about it, she did a good job at hiding it, for when Merry found her amidst the people of Ten her face was set in a small frown. She didn't seem to care about it, really, as she walked up to the stage.
Merry knew Estella from school; they were both in the same grade. But Merry wasn't friends with Estella because she absolutely hated him. He didn't know why, but she did hate him and she showed it often. Merry didn't really like Estella much either, but he couldn't say that he was happy to see her go off to the Games.
He watched as Estella looked out at the crowd of people and Merry could see now that she looked like a lost kitten as she did so. But, Estella was then distracted as the purple and orange man who was to be her escort flitted over to the other section of names, and reached in it. He seemed to take joy in swirling the names around until he finally pulled one up out of it.
Walking towards the microphone, he then shouted the name he had received. "Meriadoc Brandybuck!"
Merry's eyes widened, but he managed to keep his feelings in control as he forced himself to walk to the stage. Merry looked at Estella, and then knew that if he had a chance in the Hunger Games before it had been destroyed by Estella now. There was no way that she would let him live; she hated him so much. When they reached over to shake hands, Estella gripped his hand tightly, and whispered, "May the odds be ever in your favour, Meriadoc," in a cold tone.
Merry groaned internally as he was led into the Justice Building. He wouldn't be surprised if his death was counted on his fellow Tribute's kill score.
Gimli woke to the sound of his father screaming for him to get ready. Grumbling, he got out of his bed, and ran a hand through his auburn hair. Cursing the fact that the Reapings were first thing in the morning in District Five, Gimli got out of his bed. He walked over to the water that had been lain out for him, and splashed it in his face. It was cold, and he shivered as he began to wash his face with the bar of soap that had been left there as well.
After he was finished, he dressed in the clothes that were left for him, and then walked out from under the curtain separating his part of the house from the other, and into their kitchen-like area. The streets were already jammed pack full of people, and Gimli was not very excited to go out to the Reaping. Not only would he have to stand there and listen to the annoying Capitol woman talk in her annoying accent, he had to watch as his friends were picked in the draw and murdered in Hunger Games.
Gimli growled to himself when he remembered what the whole purpose of the Games. They were for the Capitol people's amusement. But he knew that they had the excuse for the Hunger Games; to tell the people who rebelled that they could not fight the Capitol, and to tell them that they were helpless as their children were taken and slaughtered. Gimli knew not how the Games could be amusing to anybody; he usually felt sick after he watched the Tributes kill each other; especially when they were the people he knew from Five.
What bothered Gimli the most about the Games was the fact that his cousin was a Victor from them. Gimli was only seven when he watched his cousin (who was ten years older than he was) kill the last Tribute to become the Victor for Five. That had been ten years ago, but Gimli had not been able to ever get that image of his cousin out of his mind. Though his cousin, Balin, seemed to be haunted by his Games, Gimli thought that Balin could snap at any moment and go into relapse; thinking that he was in the Games and he would start to kill everybody he saw.
Though Balin was his cousin, Gimli hardly visited him, and hardly saw him, except at the Reapings. Other than that, Balin usually stayed in his house in the Victor's Village section of District Five. Gimli didn't mind though, he was busy with other things in life, and he couldn't care less about his Victor cousin at times.
Gimli grabbed some food from the kitchen, and ate it as he left the house. On the busy street, Gimli could see the Capitol people with their cameras, chatting to one another as they relayed the footage of the people of District Five walking like cattle towards the large stage that was set up only for the Reaping. Gimli frowned as a camera man carried his camera quite near his face, but he said nothing. Only after the man had gone away, Gimli muttered a curse to him under his breath.
Finally, he had made it to where all of the seventeen-year-olds were standing, and he stood among them. Nobody spoke, whether it was their nerves, or the fact that all of them were much too tired to really comprehend what was going on. Though Gimli could have easily started up a conversation with his peers, he wasn't one to talk about things, nor did he want to at this moment. Gimli just wanted to get the Reaping over with as soon as possible.
The escort, who was a woman wearing a long, ankle-length red dress, had her hair piled up on her head. It was a flaming mixture of reds, oranges and yellow, and Gimli assumed that she was trying to look like fire. Little did the woman realize, Gimli would have gladly lit her hair on fire to make it seem more realistic. Her lips were a bronze colour, accenting her golden eyes, and her fingernails were painted red to match her dress.
She spoke to them in a rather condescending tone, and Gimli's short temper wasn't one to take this. He gritted his teeth, and balled his hands into fist as he watched her finish her little speech. She walked over to the names, and drew one of the names rather quickly for an escort. Usually they spent a long time just waving their hands over the names to make it more appealing for the Capitol audience. It seemed as though the escort just wanted to get out of the District as soon as possible.
She read aloud to the entire District, "Freya Advent!"
Gimli hadn't any idea who Freya was, but he saw as a little twelve-year-old girl walked in quivering feet towards the stage. Gimli hung his head, like he always did whenever he found that a twelve-year-old was going into the Games. It didn't matter what District they were from, Gimli always thought that it was unfair for a twelve-year-old to be forced to fight to the death, and, as they did almost all of the time, die at such a young age.
After Freya made it to the stage, the escort walked over to the boys' names, and snatched one up with her long nails. Gimli looked at her as she made her time to unfold the paper, and then, smiling with her unnaturally bright teeth, she said, "Gimli Oxford!"
Gimli felt mildly amused that he was chosen, and walked towards the stage. At seventeen, he easily towered over little Freya, but he gave her a warm smile as they shook hands. Freya was still shaking as they both were led into the Justice Building where they waited their last goodbyes.
Though Frodo had grown up in District Four, he never did like the ocean, or anything that had to deal with the ocean. It might have been the fact that his parents had died in a boat accident, or just the fact that he preferred to quietly read instead of anything else. Frodo desperately wanted to get away from the ocean, and he knew that his escape was to come soon.
This year, Frodo was going to volunteer for the Hunger Games. He had been training all of his life for it, and he was ready to go into the Games now. He didn't want to wait another two years to be able to volunteer; at sixteen, Frodo was as ready as he would ever be for the Games. He knew that he might find difficultly getting into the Games with all of the other volunteers from Four, but Frodo was fully ready to fight through the crowd of boys to get his place in the Hunger Games.
He gently twisted the ring that his Uncle had given him for his thirteenth birthday and flipped a page of his book. Frodo knew that he would not be able to win these games with his strength; he would have to use his smarts to be the Victor of the Hunger Games. But this did not bother Frodo at all; he knew that it took more than brute strength to win the Games. He had seen it with the clever Tributes deceive their alliances and go on to win.
It was these Tributes that taught Frodo that he was not to ally with the rest of what the other Districts called the Careers. As a slight boy, Frodo could easily be stabbed in the back by them; literally. So, he figured that he would find somebody from the lesser Districts, and get them to be on his side. He would have strength in the numbers that would keep him alive until the end. When he reached the end, Frodo would kill his ally and become the Victor. It was such a simple plan, but Frodo knew that it would be effective.
He heard the bell toll, telling him that he needed to get to the Reaping, and he closed his book shut. Standing up on the grass, Frodo then mixed in the crowd, and walked to the sixteen-year-old section. He stood relatively close to the front of the pack, and near the aisle that split the girls and the boys. It was here that he would be able to get through the many boys that would fight to get to the stage.
Being smaller than most of the boys, Frodo knew that he could easily slip up to the stage, and say his name. He smiled to himself as he looked at the man that was their escort. He was dressed in a blue suit that had silver fishes swimming up on the blue fabric. Whenever the man moved, it seemed like the fish would move as well. His silver lips shone in the sunlight, and his silver eyes were rather strange. His blue hair was a shade lighter than the suit, and it was ruffled by the wind.
Frodo wondered how it was considered attractive in the Capitol, but he did not question it. He had to admit, it did look rather nice if he looked at the man long enough. But, Frodo had not the time to watch the walking piece of artwork, and instead, he was focusing on what the man was saying. Finally, the speech was over, and the man walked over to draw the girl's name.
He had not even unfolded the name when the shrieks of "I VOLUNTEER!" echoed around the District. Frodo watched, slightly amused, as the girls fought to get to the stage. One girl was about to make it up the stairs to the stage, when another grabbed the girl by the ponytail and pulled her down to the ground. The aggressive girl made her way up the stage, and said, in a voice that was rather proud, "I am Lobelia Sackville-Baggins."
Frodo vaguely recognized her as one of his distant cousins, but he did not care for that at the moment; he needed to get to the stage before any other boy. As the escort made his way to the boys names, Frodo began to inch his way into the aisle, and then as the man made it to the microphone, he booked it down and reached the stages. He scampered up them with a shout of "I volunteer!"
He was on the stage and grinning down at the rest of the boys, who were all clumped around the stairs. All of them glared back at Frodo, but they said nothing more as they grumbled and walked back to where they were supposed to stand. Frodo gave the crowd a smile, his blue eyes sparkling, as he then said his name to the crowd. "I am Frodo Baggins."
"Oh!" The escort exclaimed, looking at Frodo, "Are you two related?"
"She's my cousin," Frodo said, still smiling. Lobelia gave Frodo a glare, but they shook hands nonetheless and then walked into the Justice Building, both of them knowing that only one of them was to get out of it, and both of them thinking that they would be the Victor.
Samwise Gamgee, called Sam by most, was a gentle fellow, who felt extremely out of place in District Eleven. He was one of the few children whose grandparents were Peacekeepers, and he stood out in District Eleven greatly. Most of District Eleven's people were dark skinned, since the Districts had been organized by how the people looked. Sam, however, was not. But, apart from his looks, he fit in along nicely with his fellow peers, and enjoyed the work that he was to do.
Sam had been in his garden on the morning of the Reaping, dressed in the clothes that he was to be standing at the Reaping in. He watered his plants, and then began to tend to them until the bell of the Reaping brought him out of his trance. Sam put down his gardening gloves, brushed the dirt off of his pants, and put away his watering can in the small shed that his family owned.
After he was finished, he walked into his house, and washed his hands in water that was already dirtied by his siblings doing the same. Drying his hands on his pants, Sam then ran a hand through his curly blonde hair, and sighed. He took one last look around his house, taking it in for what might have been his last time, before he turned and lifted the burlap curtain flap that was their door.
Stepping out into the streets, Sam looked at all of the people of District Eleven, watching as they all milled about. He looked at the countless children; wondering who would be the victims of the Capitol this year. Sam hated the Hunger Games, as most people living in the Districts most likely did. He didn't like to watch them, and hated the fact that they were forced to watch them when they were on. Sam also hated the Victor Tour, where the Careers would beam at them with looks of pity in their eyes as they stared at the poorer folk of District Eleven.
But, Sam couldn't do anything about the Games, and he was forced to go to the Reaping, like he had been all of his life. Though, for the past three years, it had been something much more than watching something he didn't like. He had been added in the draw, and he had to take tesserae, meaning his name was added much more than it should have been. Sam knew that if he was to be in the Games, it would mean that he would be killed immediately.
Sam looked stood in the fifteen-year-old section, looking around at the people of the District, taking in all of their grim faces. He knew that he was wearing one very much like it, and he could not get the nervous feeling that had been turning in the pit of his stomach out. He knew that the chance that he was to be picked was rather low, judging by the size of the District and the amount of people in it, but the fact that Sam had a chance to be drawn made him sick to the stomach.
He looked up at the stage, where a woman with a bright pink, furry dress on, stood, chatting to the whole District about the important of the Games. Sam looked at the giant pink cat ears that rested on her head, and how her pupils were just mere slits, and shook his head. With her elongated, fluorescent eyelashes, Sam thought that she looked like somebody who decided to take a bath in pink glue and then stuck fur on themselves.
She finally finished her non-stop gabber, and walked over (it was now when Sam saw her furry boots and he groaned a little to himself) to the girls' names. She had a wild, almost feline grin on her face as she plunged her hands into the globe, and swirled around. Sam looked at the things that would have otherwise been called nails on her hand as she took out the name and walked over to the microphone. Using her claws, she unfolded the name, and exclaimed, "And the girl Tribute from District Eleven is... Rosie Cotton! Come up dear, don't be afraid!"
Sam thought that Rosie had all rights to be afraid to walk up on the stage with that crazy feline woman as her escort. He found Rosie amidst the crowd, for it was very easy to see her since everybody moved away from her like she had the plague. She was dark skinned, with long, straight black hair that was tied up in a high ponytail. Her amber eyes flitted about as she looked at the crowd. Sam could not mistake the panic in her eyes for anything else as they momentarily rested on his.
Rosie seemed rather uncomfortable standing beside the cat woman, and looked almost relieved when the escort walked over to the boys' names and then speared one with her claws. The feline grin remained on her face as she walked over to the microphone, and announced, "Samwise Gamgee! Please come up, now, you are the Tribute for Eleven this year!"
Sam gulped, and then made his way to the stage. He felt rather out of place as the people moved away from him. Some of them jumped back when he walked close to them; like they could catch being a Tribute like it was the common cold. Sam was taking deep breaths to calm down as he then stood beside Rosie. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Rosie looking at him almost curiously, before she then realized he had noticed her and looked away.
"District Eleven, these are your two Tributes this year, Rosie Cotton, and Samwise Gamgee!" The cat escort exclaimed. She then motioned for Rosie and Sam to shake hands, which they did, before she ushered them away into the Justice Building. Sam groaned to himself as he sat in the room. If being in the Hunger Games was bad, having that woman as an escort had to be worse.
Aragorn Elessar thrust his sword into the cotton-filled sack, and then twisted it. When he pulled back, a large chunk of cotton fell on the floor below him, and he gave a satisfied smile. His father had been a Victor from the Games, and Aragorn planned to be one as well. If his father hadn't been killed in an accident involving Capitol cars, Aragorn would have been encouraged to go into the Games by him. His mother, Gilrean, had also died in the crash, so Aragorn had been raised at an orphanage.
The man he admired the most was also a Victor, but it was not his father. Elrond, the Victor who had won the Hunger Games twenty years ago, was the man that he admired the most. Whenever Elrond came to visit the orphanage, Aragorn would always be the first to see him, and he would always get to talk to him. Aragorn knew that Elrond had acknowledged him when the Victor asked Aragorn if he would like to be trained by him for the Games. Nothing had, or ever would, please Aragorn more than those words did.
But now, Aragorn had other goals to complete. He was to win the Hunger Games this year, and be a Victor like Elrond had been. At eighteen, Aragorn had more experience than he would ever get, and he had been ready for the Games ever since he was twelve. He was sure that he was to win these Games, and there was nothing that was going to stop him from winning. He needed nobody, and would not make a single ally during the Games. He would win it alone.
Aragorn wiped the sweat from his brow as he then set his sword down at Elrond's nod of approval. Aragorn grinned, taking in deep breaths to get his heart rate back to normal, before he walked to the change room. He changed into this Reaping clothes; a blue button-down shirt, and a pair of black slacks. After tying up his black shoes, he walked out into the streets of District Two, watching as all of the children of Two walk to where the Reaping was to be held.
Aragorn stood amidst the crowd, and watched as the rest of them stood near the stairs. Aragorn rolled his eyes; any person who relied on their speed to be in the Hunger Games was as good as dead to Aragorn. No, Aragorn was going to push his way through the crowds to get to the stage and be in the Games.
He watched as the Capitol woman stalked up to the stairs, her green hair swaying as she waved her hips with each step. To Aragorn, she looked like she was twitching with seizures as she did so. Her green dress showed too much cleavage to be considered something even decent, and it was cut too short on her thigh. Her heals made her at least fifteen centimetres taller than she originally was. She wore heavy eyeliner, and bright green eye shadow. Her lips were bright red, and she smiled a rather fake smile to the crowd.
Aragorn glared at her as she took much too long to say her speech; at least on Aragorn's perspective. Finally, she started, as usual, with the girls. Aragorn watched as the escort slowly took the name out of the globe, and before she could even say it, he watched as a girl, with dark hair and bright, silvery eyes, ran up to the stage with a "I volunteer!"
Aragorn knew who she was immediately. She was Elrond's daughter, Arwen, and he didn't even listen as she said her name to the crowd. Aragorn felt uneasy about being in the Games with her, but he couldn't just abandon his chance to go into the Games. He had to be in these Games. He looked at Arwen, and then waited until the escort made her way back to the microphone before he rushed to the stage.
"I volunteer!" He shouted at the top of his lungs as he then grabbed a boy, and threw him backwards to get to the stage. Finally, he got to the stage, and then walked over to the microphone, with a grin on his face. "I am Aragorn Elessar."
"Oh! The children of Two Victors!" The escort exclaimed, smiling a devilish smile as she did so. Aragorn and Arwen both shook hands, rather viciously before they walked to the Justice Building and waited for their visitors to arrive.
I'm sorry if it was rather repetitive. The Train Ride and the Chariot Ride will be next chapter. Thanks for reading, and please review for any constructive criticism... it would be greatly appreciated.