A/N: Wee, my very first fic and the first Drizzt/Legolas on the site! I just wanted to make a fic, and this is one of my fav pairings, so...I want to say that this is not a story centred on romance alone (or at least I like to think it's not), and it's not just slash, so those hungry (sluts) for some real Drizzt and Legolas action must go somewhere else! Hope you enjoy and PLEASE review – or else there won't be any second chappie!!!

Summary: This is set a good 150 years after what happens in R.A. Salvatore's books, and 200 years before the Fellowship. Drizzt falls through a portal in Faerûn and ends up in Middle-Earth. He will find friends, adventure, and in time, love, but how will he tackle it? (I know, it sounds like crap, please read anyway)!

Disclaimer: None of these characters or places are mine!! The Faerûn folks belong to R.A. Salvatore, and Legolas and co. is copyrighted J.R.R. Tolkien!! I wish I did own them, though! The ones you don't know are mine, so hands off them!!!

WARNINGS: This is a slash-story, which means male/male-pairings!!! The R is set for safety reasons from my side, and for allowing me the free space to maybe go there. Maybe it'll end up classifying only for PG-13, but I like to play it very safe! Is that fair enough for everybody?

Chapter 1: Through the portal

It was getting dark in the lands of Middle-Earth. The sun had set some time ago, and the stars were slowly appearing in the dark blue, but not yet black sky. It was quiet now, as most creatures had gone to sleep. Humans, hobbits, elves and dwarves were likewise getting quieter, retreating inside for a good night around the fireplace, chatting and drinking, till it was time to head to bed.

As the moon rose elegantly over the sky, its cold, entrancing light fell through the branches and leaves of a huge oak, landing on a dark figure sitting in front of a campfire.

The figure was sitting with his arms draped tightly around his knees, which he had pulled as close to his chest as he could without it becoming painful. His feet were booted, leather decorated with a simple pattern. His clothes were a very deep blue with intricate patterns in silver thread covering the shirt. Over this he had a dark green cloak, hood pulled up, so one could only see an ebony-skinned nose, strands of thick, unruly white hair falling down and a pair of eyes, which shone red in the darkness surrounding the little camp.

As he gazed up at the shining stars above him, a soft, sad smile found its way onto his lips. He still remembered the first time he had seen those stars, flickering warmly over the treetops of a forest, remembered his awe, wonder and joy. It was long ago now, and he had seen the twinkling lights on the sky a million times or more, but still the sight made him catch his breath and admire their beauty.

With the memory of his first days on the surface, other memories made themselves known, although he desperately tried to push them away, but in vain. It was the memories of his friends, of their countless journeys and adventures, of evenings filled with talking and good-natured joking, of being liked, being cared about, being loved.

But those days were far away now. His friends were dead, lost to the passage of time, and now he was alone once again. Alone in a world that didn't want him, who had rejected him time and time again, until he mentally turned his back on it, seeking peace and refugee in the void in his head, the void he had created over the years of solitude.

The only thing that kept him going was fighting. Whirling his sharp scimitars in a deadly frenzy he rid the world of more orcs than a horde of battle-crazed dwarves could have in half a century. The hunter inside was slowly making his return, each time gaining a little more strength, a little more control, and each time it got more difficult to stop the hunter, to force him back to the deepest chambers of his mind.

It was during one of those fights against orcs, trolls and goblins that it had happened. He had stood in front of what seemed like an old entry to a grand building, which now lay in crumbling ruins all over the meadow, where it once stood. The last goblin had just let out its final breath and the drow stood clutching his shoulder, where blood ran in a steady, slow stream from a long cut.

He was just about to let his legs give away under him from the utter exhaustion he felt, when a strange sound made him turn around. The enormous entrance door of white marble stood as it always had, but in the empty space between the stone pillars something was happening. A weird swirling pool of light had appeared and it was growing ever bigger.

Slightly puzzled and quite a bit on guard the drow leaned forward to examine the pool closer. As he did so, the light shone brighter and suddenly all the light was everywhere, surrounding him fully, enveloping him in a warm, he'd never felt before and that made drift off to sleep, although he tried without success to fight it.

The day had passed, when he woke up, and the moon was making its over the dark sky, silhouetted by the branches of the trees above him. His delicate white brows furrowed in thought. Those stars – they weren't the ones he had studied so many times. In fact, he didn't recognize a single one of them. What had that thing been?

Lying flat on his back, he stared unseeingly up at the stars. Clearly it must have been a portal of some sort, but where had it taken him? This wasn't the Abyss, or any of the other lower planes, thank Mielikki. It wasn't Faerûn either, that was for sure. But where was he?

Now, more than a week later, he still didn't know the answer to that question. Oh, he had explored the land, all right, but the only things he had found out was, that this place was vast, that there were far fewer orcs here than in Faerûn, and that he really liked being here.

The fire slowly died, and the dark elf decided to get some rest. Crawling nearer to the great oak, he quickly climbed it and settled himself on a thick branch, back and head leaned against the trunk, one leg pulled up slightly, the other lying outstretched. Soon sleep claimed him, or that kind of sleep dark elves can get.

When the sun began to rise over the horizon, it found that someone was intruding on the camp. In fact, there were to of them, silently examining the cold fireplace and the bags that lay on the ground near the oak.

If one looked closer, one would find how amazingly alike those two wanderers was. They were of the same height, had similar builds and the same colour of hair. Actually it was almost impossible to know one of them from the other, which wasn't all that strange, since they were twins. Elladan and Elrohir, sons of the high Lord Elrond of Imladris.

All of a sudden, something emerged from the tree above them. Before either of them had a chance to move, Elrohir was pressed up against the oak, one slender, but razor-sharp scimitar pressing against his throat. He tried to swallow, but found that he couldn't due to the blade. He blinked several times and unconsciously licked his dry lips.

In front of him stood an amazing creature. It was tall, but not nearly as tall as Elrohir himself, with dark skin and a mane of stark white, unruly hair, which ended at the small of its back, and pointed ears just like he had. Its features were handsome, almost beautiful, but it had the pose of a well-trained warrior. What made Elrohir's breath hitch were the eyes, those lavender orbs, which shone with anger and wariness at that moment.

The creature sneered at him, but otherwise it didn't move. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Elladan slowly moving towards him and the creature, bow at the ready. Good, Elrohir thought. Then maybe he had a chance to get away from this alive after all.

But Elladan was only just in range of those glimmering scimitars, when the creature in front of Elrohir spun around and pointed his free weapon at Elladan's chest, right at the heart. The other weapon still rested against Elrohir's throat.

"Who are you?" came a melodic, yet very low and angry voice from the owner of the scimitars. "What are you doing here? Why did you search my private stuff?"

"I will give you the answers to those questions the moment you release my brother and I from those sharp blades of yours," Elladan said calmly despite the fact that he was only a single thrust of a blade from death.

Very reluctantly, lavender eyes dark with distrust, the drow withdrew his blades, but didn't re-sheath them. As he stood there, scimitars at the ready, he looked every inch the predator that had become prey and was now stuck in a corner with no chance of escaping.

"My name is Elladan," the older elf said, laying a hand on his chest, "and this is my twin brother Elrohir. We are the sons of Lord Elrond of Imladris. Right at the moment we're on a journey to visit the ruler of Mirkwood, king Thranduil, and his son, Legolas, and we are most sorry we went through your things. We mean you no harm; we were simply curious as to who had left his belongings lying around like that."

"Now, if you don't mind," Elrohir said, stepping away from the tree and rubbing his throat, "we would like to know your name and your reason to be here. A-and - what are you, anyway?" he blurted suddenly, not able to keep the question unspoken.

The drow smiled in spite of himself. "My name, Elrohir, is Drizzt Do'Urden, and I am a drow." Seeing the Elves' confusion, he lifted one white brow. "You've never heard of drow? Dark elves? Where AM I?" he said, looking around bewildered.

"You don't know where you are?" Elrohir asked, puzzled. Drizzt shook his head. "Very well, then, let us enlighten you. You are in the lands of Middle-earth, more precise in a wood west of Rivendell in the north of the world. As I said, we're heading to Mirkwood, which lies farther to the east. If you come with us, we will tell you more on the journey."

"Why should I trust you?" Drizzt asked suspiciously. But inside he was utterly amazed, that these two beautiful Elves hadn't backed away from him in disgust, when they first saw him, and that they didn't know the race of drow. Well, obviously, since they didn't know dark elves and their nature, they wouldn't know they should be disgusted and terrified by his presence. "And how do you know you can trust me?" he added as an afterthought.

"Well, we don't, obviously," Elladan answered, a wry smile playing on his lips. "But if you suspect every stranger, you meet, means to harm you, you will never get any friends, now will you?"

Drizzt thought that over, and came to agree with the older twin. "I will go with you, then. Actually I don't have anything else to do, and maybe in that place you call Mirkwood, someone will give an explanation as to how I got here. Not that I mind, though, for Faerûn held nothing but pain for me." Those sparkling lavender orbs got filled with sadness at the last sentence.

The twins, seeing the pain in the drow's eyes, looked at each other and silently agreed to ease his pain on the journey to Mirkwood.

The prince of Mirkwood was walking slowly on the overgrown path that led through the forest to a quiet meadow with a pond in the east of the clearing. Its waters were always warm, yet still refreshingly cool, and clear as crystal, and Legolas loved spending the hours before he went to bed in the water, letting the filth of the day wash away, while his body and mind relaxed.

But today it was a little different. Today he had something to ponder about, as he lay in the water, arms resting on the shore, chin nestled on his hands. His golden-blonde hair, heavy with water, fell down until it reached the waterline, where it flowed like some kind of weird water snakes. Some strands were laying across his face, but he didn't seem to notice, as he was far away in thought.

That afternoon his father had received a message that the twin princes of Imladris had gotten a companion on the way to Thranduil's realm. The messenger was a little bird that had followed the three travellers for a while, until it decided to tell the king. Thranduil had thanked the little bird for telling him that, and the little bird had chirped happily as an answer. Then it flew out of the window, making it's way back to it's nest in Mirkwood. There was egg to be lain and hatched.

Legolas smiled at the memory of that little bird; oh, how he loved living animals. Then his features grew serious once more as he recalled what the winged creature had told about the person, who'd started to accompany the twins on the road.

A strange person indeed, if what the bird had whistled was true. The prince almost couldn't believe that such an exotic person was on his way to these very woods. The bird had said that the traveller was tall, but not nearly as tall as the twins, with white hair and skin as black as charcoal. He walked with a grace and ease that spoke of Elven heritage, but it couldn't be. No Elves had dark skin like that, or was that small. Besides, Legolas had never heard of an Elf with purple eyes.

While he lay there thinking, he felt a strange, warm sensation take hold of him, one that settled both in his heart and in the lower part of his well-trimmed stomach. He wouldn't say it was nasty, or even uncomfortable, it was just strange and it troubled him that it was there and that he didn't know for sure what it meant.

After a time he got out of the pond, got dried with a towel he had brought with him, and put his clothes back on. Still deep in thought he walked the path back to his rooms, forgetting to greet the few other Elves he met on his way there, which earned him several amused and wondering glares. He always attracted glances, though, most of them being exploring, considering and lustful, so he paid them no attention and just kept on trotting.

He would have to talk to Ada about this, and then he would try to be more at peace, at least until the visitors arrived and he'd have all his questions answered.

End of chapter 1

A/N: Did you like? Please say you did begs on her knees! I know that the characters maybe is a bit out of character, especially later in the fic, but hope you can cope with it!! Oo