Author's Note: Be warned, this is a 'girl falls into middle earth' fiction. I have read a few and they mostly annoy me so I tried my hand at writing myself. This is my first fan fiction, so please be nice.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from LOTR or Middle Earth, it belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Pain. The white hot, never ending, makes you forget everything and want to die kind of pain. Like every cell in my body was being pulled apart one by one and then being set on fire.
This is what I told people when they asked what it was like being pulled from another realm. It wasn't often that I was asked, because there were few here who knew the truth about where I came from. But when trying to explain the sensation of travelling between two worlds, this was my best description.
I didn't like to think about that day too much for it brought back other memories of home, and with that, the realisation that I would never see it again. I spend most of my days here in Rivendell admiring the beauty of the surrounding landscapes and gardens, trying to forget. Everything here, from the people to the trees and plants, was so different, so alien. And I was stuck right in the middle of it with no way out.
For starters, I had no idea how I got here in the first place. One minute I was leaving the university campus and heading for my car when BAM! -the pain hits me. I must have fallen unconscious at some point because the next thing I know I am being shaken awake by none other than Gandalf the Grey himself.
Of course, I didn't know who he was at the time, I didn't even understand what language he was speaking, and he apparently didn't speak English. But after some exaggerated hand signals we made our introductions. I laughed out loud when he told me his name. He certainly could be a wizard by the way he dressed. But he didn't find this funny, and snapped something in that foreign language he spoke.
That wiped the smile off my face. At this point I thought he was either just some Lord of the Rings nut that took the books way too seriously, or part of the biggest practical joke of all time. Well, I wasn't going to be taken for a fool, or play a part of some fantasy. And I told him so, through a lot of yelling and pointing fingers.
It took a while for me to calm down, but by that time it was getting dark and I was cold. Panic had started to set in when I took in my surroundings. I definitely wasn't in Melbourne anymore, not even close. My mind couldn't make sense of what had happened, and it was at that moment that I did something I had never done before in my life. I fainted.
I woke up to the smell of smoke and dirt filling my nostrils. I was on a mat or blanket of some kind that didn't do much to soften the bumps and general hardness of the ground. When I looked around I realised I was in a campsite, and the man who claimed to be Gandalf was sitting against a tree near the fire, smoking a pipe.
He turned to me and smiled gently, as though trying to reassure me that he wasn't going to hurt me. I didn't know for the life of me what to do. In the end I'm ashamed to say that I cried. I was scared, and with a strange man who thought he was Gandalf off Lord of the Rings, and who didn't speak English, and Toto, I sure as hell wasn't in Kansas anymore.
He didn't comfort me, he just let me cry. After I finished, we tried again to communicate, but when that failed miserably, we settled for silence. After a few minutes, he pointed to the tree and then said something, a word. I gave him a confused look. He then pointed at several different objects and followed each one with another word. I then understood. He was trying to teach me his language. I was never good at languages but I did my best to learn as much as I could, as it seemed like my best bet of getting home. Eventually I got tired and fell asleep.
I don't know why but I trusted him. He hadn't hurt me, and he seemed quite genuine. When he packed up the camp the next morning, there was no question. I was going with him. During the walk he continued to teach me his language, pointed at things as we went and telling me their name.
Later that day, after a tremendous amount of walking, we came upon what appeared to be a village. Gandalf stopped me before we entered though, and handed me a cloak. He gestured with his hands at my clothes and said something I didn't understand. He wanted me put the cloak on to blend in I figured. So I did. It was a little big, but it hid my body. He nodded in approval when I finished, and proceeded to the gate that hid the village.
This was where I first realised that this was not a practical joke, although I think somewhere is my subconscious I already knew it was real. This realisation was brought on not just because of the medieval clothing, or the apparent lack of modern technology. It was the smell. I had never walked down a street that smelled as bad as this one. I wondered why for a moment, until I saw someone tip a pot upside down from a second story window, its contents being revealed as a yellowy liquid mixed with brown clumps. Human waste. Ew.
It's what I miss most about home. Plumbing. Even the elves haven't heard of the concept. At least they don't throw it out the window for anyone to step on. They take it from their room each day and use it to fertilise the plants and gardens.
I was a little taken aback when Arwen told me about what they did. Seeing the look on my face, she then went on to tell me that I didn't have to do it, there were those that lived here whose job it was to empty the 'chamber pots' for guests. I blushed furiously at this, telling her that I didn't want people handling my poo. So each morning I get up, do my business, and then take it out to the gardens.
This village I was in then though was revolting. Well, at least the streets were. We made it to some sort of market place area, and although it didn't smell of daisies and perfume, it didn't make me want to puke either.
There were stalls set up around the marketplace selling everything from clothes to weapons. Sharp pointy weapons; weapons that kill. I instinctively took a step closer to Gandalf's side when I saw them. They were very real, which meant that the danger in this world was very real. I strongly hoped that I would never have to encounter those dangers. Gandalf was still Gandalf the Grey which meant the fellowship hadn't formed yet, and I could get out of here before it did.
Gandalf led me to a store that was selling clothes. The man minding the store looked quite bored, apparently business wasn't very good today. Gandalf approached the man, who stood up straighter, and had a conversation with him, of which I didn't understood. Gandalf gestured at me a few times, and the sales man looked a little surprised but nodded.
I was soon equipped with a pair of boots, a cloak, pants, a shirt and a coat, all of which was paid for by Gandalf with a bag of coins. I didn't like other people paying for me when I had no way of paying them back. I tried to stop Gandalf handing the man the money, but he just swatted me away, smiled at the sales man before ushering me off somewhere else. He was muttering something under his breath and shaking his head, but I was too busy trying not to drop any of my new purchases to care.
Gandalf then took us to an inn of some kind. There was an old fashioned wooden bar, surrounded by many tables and chairs. At the bar was a large old man, who was missing a few teeth. Gandalf approached the man and exchanged a few words. The other man nodded and led us upstairs to a room. He left us there and headed back downstairs by himself. I looked at Gandalf with what I hoped was a 'what now' expression. He just gestured at the new clothes and went to step outside the door.
Sighing, I got undressed and put the new clothes on. They were comfortable enough, but I would have preferred my jeans, hoddie and converse sneakers. The little comfort I had was my backpack that had somehow travelled with me from home. It contained my uni books, a few pens, my phone, purse, keys, lip balm, a small torch and a comb. And I would have loved a bath. But as I would soon find out, when you're travelling in Middle Earth, a bath is not something you can take for granted.
My name is Katherine Diana Roberts. I was 19 years old when I first arrived in Middle Earth. This is my story.
A/N: What did you think? Please review!