Happy Christmas everyone! Here's a little one shot I decided to write this morning for all of my lovely readers, as I had the whole day off and the house to myself. :-)
I needed a bit of a break from my other stories and thought this would be fun.
Hope you all have a wonderful Holiday season and are looking forward to updates within the week from my other stories.
Let me know what you all think! Mwahh!
Thorin Oakenshield scratched his beard and let out a frustrated sigh. He had been trying to find the damned Burglar's house for the past half hour now, but there was no bright green door to be seen among the myriad of other colors.
The son of Thrain had passed blue doors, red doors, purple doors, orange doors and every other shade of door imaginable; except for the colour he was looking for.
His eyes searched the row of houses to his left again - flowers and vegetation clung and grew on every flat surface, as if their homes had grown from the Earth itself. Perhaps at another time Thorin could have appreciated their craftsmanship, but now, the Dwarf Prince was simply annoyed.
A tabby cat meowed loudly as he trudged down the dirt packed path, his heavy boots leaving a trail of shallow prints behind him.
The animal meowed again and slunk into view, its ochre eyes studying him warily as he stopped before it.
The tall dwarf was not necessarily fond of cats, but this one looked feral, as though it had not eaten in weeks and Thorin felt a small pang of pity for the creature. He reached into the leather pouch which hung around his waist and pulled out a dried strip of venison, carefully tossing it towards the cat.
The meat had barely landed on the path before the animal attacked it, pulling and tearing the chewy treat to shreds.
The prince smiled slightly and bent down to pat the tabby on the head, trying to remember the last time he had stopped to stroke an animal like this.
"I don't suppose you know where I can find a bright green door?" The tall dwarf asked, his deep voice distracting the cat momentarily from its meal as it gazed up at him, blinking blankly. "Of course you don't, you're a cat...I was just asking a cat for directions..."
Thorin was grateful no one else had been watching as he placed both hands on his knees and lifted himself upright again, grunting at the feel of a tight knot in his back.
He was already looking forward to the meeting being over and he hadn't even found the house yet.
The son of Thrain had journeyed a long ways from Ered Luin to attend a gathering with Dain and the rest of his kin from the Iron Hills; their decision to deny him aid during his quest to reclaim Erebor had left a sour taste in the tall dwarf's mouth, but Thorin could hardly blame Ironfoot.
The warrior had seen much violence and death during his time and refused to willingly seek out any more. After his father had been slain during the battle of Azanulbizar, Dain had never really returned to his former self.
The tall dwarf shook his head slowly and returned to his present surroundings; he just had to make do with what he had been dealt.
Unknowingly, he began trudging along in the direction of Bag End, but just as he began to walk, the tabby cat meowed and began clawing at the dwarf's heels.
"I don't have any more meat - be gone!" The Prince said, barely turning to face the animal as he continued on in the right direction. But the animal slunk through his legs and sat before him, blocking his path once more. Thorin narrowed his blue eyes at it, contemplating on whether or not he should kick the damn thing out of his way, when it meowed again and came over to grab the end of the tall dwarf's fur lined cloak in its mouth.
The heir of Durin looked at the cat, his brows knit together in confusion as the animal began to tug at his cloak, gently pulling him in the opposite direction.
Thorin stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds, weighing his options; he could either wander through the rest of the Shire, or he could follow this cat who at least seemed to know where it wanted to go...
The animal's guess was as good as any, so sighing again, the dwarf let the cat lead him further away from where his kin were now singing and eating and driving Master Baggins within an inch of his sanity.
The roads and houses along the way looked dark and empty, no one came out or went in; an odd feeling began to churn deep within Thorin's stomach and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand.
Taking a glance in all directions, the dwarf shook his head again, deciding it was his paranoia which brought on the sensation, although his hand gripped the hilt of his broad sword around his waist just in case.
What seemed like a few more minutes had passed in silence, the tabby cat creeping in front silently, turning back to look at the dwarf every few seconds as though to make sure he was still following.
Finally, after it seemed as though they had left Hobbiton altogether, and just as Thorin was about to turn back, he spotted an old, run-down wooden house just off the path and sure enough – it had a bright green door at the front.
The Prince nearly laughed aloud, staring at the cat incredulously which had stretched out on all fours and was watching the tall dwarf carefully.
Already being so late, he began jogging lightly towards the house, when suddenly he stopped.
Something didn't seem quite right... Thorin had been sure the wizard had said the Hobbit lived in a Hole... not a wooden house.
The more he thought of it, the more he was sure that was what Gandalf had said. Slowly, the dwarf began to back away from the old, abandoned looking shack when he sensed a pair of eyes watching him, causing a shiver to run down his spine involuntarily.
The oldest son of Thrain reluctantly turned to look back in the direction he had come and found that the path had entirely disappeared.
Along with the tabby cat.
Instead there was a thick layer of trees and vegetation surrounding him on all sides.
His heart began to quicken, but the heir of Durin unsheathed his sword and gripped onto it tightly, telling himself that it was probably an enchantment laid down by Gandalf so that they would not be interrupted or disturbed by anyone tonight.
Finding himself left with no other choice, Thorin made his way towards the green door and hesitantly turned the handle.
Pitch blackness greeted him inside and a deafening silence seemed to emanate from within the house. A feeling of intense fear paralyzed the Prince for a moment before he turned back to head into the woods, deciding he would rather face whatever beast was lurking in the trees than whatever was lurking in that house. But as soon as he turned, he noticed that the forest had moved in closer somehow.
Thorin whispered a low prayer in Khuzdul, asking Mahal to keep watch over and protect him from harm as he took a deep breath and stepped past the threshold.
The air inside was dank and thick, making it hard to even take a breath. Still blinded by the darkness, the dwarf tried to rely on his sense of hearing, but it seemed as though someone had sucked all the noise out of the room. The only thing audible was the sound of Thorin's heart as it thumped faster and faster, the ridges on the hilt of his sword biting into his flesh as he refused to lessen his grip.
Just then, a faint glow began to appear in front of the dwarf.
It was a cold, blue light and seemed to slowly pulsate. This time when the light re-appeared, Thorin noticed it was emanating from inside a stone well, randomly placed in the centre of a tiny room with no doors or windows and clear of any furniture or signs of life.
The tall dwarf took a deep breath and stepped closer to the well, his hands becoming clammy as the light grew brighter, like a flame calling a moth into its deadly trap.
The sound of his own heart filled the Prince's ears, and just as he was about to peer over the stone lip of the well, the light died altogether.
He stood there, sweating and slightly shaking in pitch darkness and deafening silence when he felt a pair of ice cold hands on his back as they hurled him forwards and into the stone well.
And before Thorin even had the chance to swing at whatever it was with his sword, before he could even call for help, he found himself falling down a never ending tunnel, engulfed in cold, blue light.
Jenny looked out of her foggy kitchen window into the dark, quiet streets of her neighbourhood. Christmas day always made anything outside of your own home seem so still and muted; as if everyone had abandoned their houses in the wake of some sort of disaster. It sort of gave her the creeps as she looked on into the distance, trying to spot the headlights of a single vehicle turning into the intersection.
A few minutes passed and the young woman sighed heavily, instantly feeling the rebound of cool winter air as she breathed onto the frosty glass.
Snow fell gently, like big, fat cotton balls floating on the wind; the white sky telling the girl that there was plenty more to come.
As a little girl, Jenny had always loved Christmas, but ever since she had turned eighteen, her love of the Holidays had gradually become another story.
For instance, she reluctantly turned to look at her sink, the corners of her lips pulling downwards at the heaping mountain of dishes her family had left her to wash.
Hosting turkey dinner was not fun when you were the one doing all of the cooking and cleaning.
Jenny huffed, pulling up the sleeves to her new, pink polka dot pajamas, getting ready to take on the mess of cutlery, glass and porcelain.
She looked at the dishes for a second and let out another impressive sigh, lifting her hands up to examine them in the yellow light of her kitchen.
It had been 21 years, and what had she accomplished with these hands? What had she done or built with them that she could look back on in ten years and say it had made her proud?
Absolutely fuck all; that's what.
She had spent more time cleaning dishes, working, cooking and now studying than actually living a life.
Every day it was the same monotonous routine;
Get up, go to university - where she technically paid up the arse to fall asleep in class – run for an hour at the campus gym, come home, cook supper for herself and then wallow away in the mundane nature of her existence until she had to sleep.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, sending a jolt down her spine and effectively snapping the girl out of her self-piteous thoughts.
Before going to answer, Jenny checked the time on her shitty little microwave:
10:13
Who it could possibly be, the girl had no idea. A faint sense of panic began to churn deep in the pit of her stomach as she remembered the crazy guy who had tried to break into her parents house a year ago.
Jenny's eyes immediately went to the dirty carving knife that sat on the edge of the counter, bits of roast turkey still stuck in the serrated edges – sure she was complaining about her life being boring, but that didn't mean she would rather be dead!
Grabbing hold of the weapon, the girl carefully tip-toed towards the alabaster door, her heart thumping loudly in her chest as she tried peeking through the eye hole.
She could barely make out the silhouette in the shadows of her front porch, but when she saw the mop of shiny black curls, Jenny instantly recognized the visitor.
The girl unlocked the door and swung it wide, greeting her sister happily as a wave of relief washed over her.
However, a look of complete bewilderment swept across Mandy's features as she stared at her youngest sister – complete with pink pajamas and serial killer blade.
"Very...welcoming," she said sarcastically, as she stepped past Jenny into the house.
"Har-de har har, what are you doing here?" She asked, perhaps a little ruder than intended– there was a Spongebob Christmas special on in one hour and Jenny wasn't going to miss it this year.
However, hopes that this was going to be a short visit quickly evaporated when she saw Mandy take off her scarf, coat and boots
Her sister looked at her in mock outrage, "I was going to help you with cleaning up, but since you're so charming you can make me tea while I relax."
Jenny had half a mind to drag Mandy out by the hair, but then realized her eyes were red and puffy. She instantly bit her tongue and smiled at her sister before placing the knife in the sink and setting the kettle on to boil.
No doubt she and her boyfriend had gotten into another fight. Eric was, by the way, the biggest prick on planet Earth. As soon as Mandy was feeling better, it was intervention time – this literally happened every two weeks.
Eric made her cry, she came over to get over her grief, he would stop by the next morning with a ridiculously expensive gift and the two would be sucking face as though it had never happened.
Quite frankly, Jenny was sick of having to play psychiatrist, not that she didn't love her sister, it was just that she had her own shit to deal with.
The girl looked at the bright green bottle of lithium pills that sat on her counter, wondering when she would begin to feel the effects of the higher dosage.
"So, do you mind if I spend the night?" Mandy's voice seemed to spring from nowhere, making Jenny jump.
She turned to look at her sister, smiling slightly and shaking her head. "No, not at all."
Mandy smiled, her bright red lips stretching over her artificially whitened teeth. "Thanks, Jay! I think I forgot the pj's mom gave me here anyway, so I can just wear those!"
With that, her older sister bounded off into the living room shouting "Slumber Partayy!" at the top of her lungs while she rummaged through the bits and pieces of wrapping paper and decorative bows that were still strewn across the floor.
Jenny rolled her eyes, slumber parties with these two ended with Mandy in tears, trying to explain what Eric did wrong through wracking sobs. It was definitely not something she was looking forward to.
At least there was an excuse to leave the dishes till tomorrow morning.
THUD!
A resounding crash echoed throughout the house and Jenny immediately thought her sister had fainted and began to call out her name frantically, running for the first aid kit underneath the sink.
"That wasn't me!" Mandy's shrill voice pierced through her sister's ringing ears, and Jenny suddenly stopped as she pursed her lips, dark feathery brows knitting together in confusion.
If that wasn't her sister then what the hell made that noise?
"Um... Jenny. There's a thingy in your backyard!" Mandy said, as she ran back into the kitchen, her hazel eyes wide with fear.
The younger of the two got up from the first aid kit and looked to her older sister half in annoyance and half in confusion.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Mandy simply pointed towards the sliding glass doors that led to the patio.
Jenny sighed and grabbed the knife from the sink again, this time hoping it was a trespassing burglar as she was in the mood to stab something.
The girl rounded the corner and saw lying out in the snow, a disheveled heap in the middle of her yard.
A slight sense of excitement bubbled deep within Jenny's stomach, even if this was a raging lunatic, it was at least a nice break in her routine.
"You're not going outside! You don't even know what that thing is!" Mandy shouted, grabbing her sister by the arm.
The girl rolled her eyes and looked at the other, brandishing the serrated blade slightly before adding "Mentally unstable, remember? I'll just go Patrick Bateman on its ass and I'll get off with a plead for insanity."
Mandy narrowed her eyes at her sister but let Jenny go, pulling out her mobile phone.
"Fine but if anything is wrong, just shout and I'll call the police."
Jenny nodded and popped on her slippers, carefully sliding the door open and stepping into the cold, winter night.
It was eerily silent as her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness.
At first, the girl thought it was an animal of some sort as she spotted fur.
Whatever it was, it had created a small crater around itself, and as Jenny tip toed closer towards the thing, she saw a human hand laying on top of the pure, white snow.
Her eyes widened in shock, deciding whether or not to run back to the house or to investigate further.
"Uuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." A deep groan came from the person and Jenny saw the figure move slightly.
Adrenaline rushed through her veins and for some inexplicable reason, the girl ran towards the person with no regard to her own safety and stopped short just as she approached the still body.
She noticed it had long black hair and had fallen face first from who knows where. Jenny looked up at the sky, a bewildered expression on her face as she tried to figure out where the hell this person had come from.
She took a step back and saw something glinting in the snow, the light of a street lamp in the distance reflecting off the cold, metal blade of a sword.
What. The. Fuck.
Something deep in Jenny's mind told her she should've listened to Mandy and stayed inside, but another voice told her to grab the weapon before this stranger could.
And before she knew what she was doing, the girl reached down and snatched up the sword, nearly dropping it on her own foot in surprise of how astoundingly heavy it was.
But she strained what little muscle she had in her forearms and biceps and held it pointedly at the suddenly menacing intruder.
The person groaned again and slowly began to lift their top half from the ground, as Jenny stood frozen in place wondering what was happening and who on Earth this was.
Pulling himself into a sitting position, the man looked up at the girl with a pair of enchanting blue eyes, his thick eyebrows were pulled together in either pain or confusion and his long black hair was matted with snow.
He was dressed like someone who had just come from a renaissance fair with a giant, furry cloak and regal looking armour.
The stranger was undoubtedly handsome, with sort of a sexy lumber jack look about him, but as soon as his blue eyes fixed on the sword which was being pointed at his face, the man's expression became furious.
"W-who are you?" Jenny stammered, she tried to sound as menacing as possible but instead, her voice wavered and she ended up sounding exactly like the scared little girl she was.
The man gazed up at her, his nostrils flaring and eyes blazing, his square jaw clenched tightly.
She reflexively took another step back, the sword trembling in her small hands as she grasped the hilt tightly, ignoring the way the ridges bit into her flesh as she brandished it in front of him. "Who are you and what are you doing on my property?"
The handsome stranger eyed her up and down, suddenly reminding her that she was wearing pink flannel pajamas and no makeup.
Well, at least Attila the Hun wasn't exactly dressed to impress either.
Dear Lord, here she was holding a fucking sword up to a random man's face who had fallen out of the sky into her yard, and she was worried about what she was wearing.
"My name is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain and grandson of Thror," the man said, his deep voice sent a faint buzz down the girl's spine.
And unbeknownst to them, from that moment on, neither of their lives would ever be the same.