Taking a new fandom out for a spin always makes me nervous, but I think I like where this story is going -hopefully, you will, too! The main pairing will eventually be an original character with either Fili or Bard, and there will definitely be some Bilbo/Thorin and Kili/Tauriel happening later, too. So, if you don't like either of those. . . this will be your first and only warning. Not that it will be anything graphic, but I thought that I'd give everyone a heads up.

Also, I have no idea what is going on with my Avengers story, but it's still on hiatus. Sorry for anyone who might like it or be currently reading it.

Anyways! This story will have violence in it, some of it graphic -but I will post a warning at the start of those chapters if that sort of thing bothers you. There are a couple of swears here and there. . . I think? And, like I mentioned before, the romantic parts won't be anything explicit, but romance does play a part. And this chapter is more of an introduction than anything else, so it's a little short. Otherwise, I believe I've covered everything!

Enjoy!

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#1. Chasing Fate.

So, moving back in with her mother and step-father isn't the end of the world. Really, it could always be worse. . . right? She still, in fact, has a decent place to return to, and that should count for something. . . shouldn't it?

Yeah, it should. But it doesn't. From the very moment that she left this house behind, about six years ago, now, Lorne has never, ever wanted to come back to it. Honestly? She never thought that she would actually have to come back. College went well. She had a nice job, a small but perfectly comfortable apartment, and she was doing something that she loved.

Sure, working behind a heavy metal mask in boiling temperatures might not seem all that pleasant to most, but building these beautiful, incredible things with her own two hands was. . . well, there was no other feeling like it in the world. Not for her, anyways. It's the only thing that Lorne has ever wanted to do -melting and sculpting and crafting, metals glinting and gears turning and simply. . . creating.

And she was pretty damn good at her job, too -one of the highest rated smiths in the county and certainly one of the most popular with their customers, and all of the other associates there loved to work with her. For the first time in. . . probably ever, Lorne had absolutely loved her life.

Until, of course, everything went wrong. Like their operations manager was fired and the new one that was sent in decided to down-size the company, started making absurd changes to the way things had been running for over two decades. It took about a year, and it was the slowest, most frustratingly painful year that Lorne ever experienced, but the business was eventually forced into bankruptcy. Everyone lost their jobs.

Making a long and miserable story short, she hasn't been able to find an open position in her area of expertise. So, without any steady work, she couldn't afford to stay in her apartment. Hell -she can't even afford to keep paying for her damn car. She sold most of what she had just to get back to town, and now. . .

Now, here she is. Standing within the great, looming shadow of the house that she thought she had finally, finally gotten away from. Except, not. She silently fears that, no matter what she does, no matter how far or how fast she runs. . . she will never be rid of this place. Not ever.

Hanging her head, she stares down at the pavement underneath her feet with hard, stinging eyes. Her boots are scuffed black islands lost inside pools of dark, muddy water, and she can already feel the rain soaking through her hood, her clothes sticking to her flesh like wet coats of paint.

Staying out here any longer. . . well, Lorne might honestly prefer drowning in the storm over facing what lays beyond that front door.

She looks up, then, at that damn house, and takes a deep breath. The tall, solid form walks into her from out of nowhere. She stumbles, nearly trips over the curb and into the street, but a quick, strong hand is suddenly lashing out and circling her wrist. The hand holds on tightly and pulls her up, keeps her from falling backwards as she wavers over the edge.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. . . I wasn't even paying attention." A voice says, boyish and worried and warmly accented. "Are you all right?"

Lorne nods rather dully, attempting to find her footing again on the slick cement. "I'm okay, yeah. I'm sorry, too. I mean, I am kind of standing right in the middle of the sidewalk." She frowns down at the fingers still wrapped around her sleeve and they hurriedly let go.

When she squints up again, expression more exhausted than anything, she notes a mess of long, blond dreadlocks and a surprising amount of concern radiating from his face. He might be a bit younger than her -just out of high school, maybe.

"And it is a little. . . odd, if you'll forgive me for saying. Standing out here in the rain." He mirrors her frown and tugs the collar of his pilot jacket closer around his neck. "Are you sure that you're all right?"

In any of the ways that count? No, she is definitely not all right.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Her attempt at a reassuring tone falls rather flat, though, even to her own ears "I just. . . I just misplaced my house key."

He groans in sympathy. "What luck, huh? I hope you find it soon." And then he brushes past her with the brightest smile, leaving her scowling and slightly unsteady. . . but mostly just confused.

Especially when he gives her shoulder a heavy, fleeting pat before he continues on his way, and she glances behind herself automatically to watch him meet up with another young man -one with long brown hair scraped back into a ponytail and dark, laughing eyes. He gives her a hearty wave that she finds herself. . . returning, after an awkward hesitation. And, as if neither of them were ever there, they drift from the curb and simply melt away into the haze.

Lorne stands there and stares at the place where they disappeared for an endless, disquieting moment. Something. . . something about them. . . She turns to look up at her house yet again, shoving her hands into her pockets. Something smooth presses against her fingers in the left one, a little damp from the rain and carelessly folded. Like. . . like a piece of paper? Weird. Her pockets had been empty when she put her coat on at the train station.

She pulls out the torn notebook page with a frown and opens it. The rain is already smudging the thick, sloping red print across the lines, but she can read it well enough even as the words start bleeding together.

Would you like to go on an adventure?

Lorne blinks. What the. . ? Where did this even come from? Who would have -? It clicks in another second. She whirls around to check the corner, where those two peculiar young men had vanished from. When the blond one patted her shoulder before. . . did he give this to her? Why? What does that even mean -do you want to go on an adventure? Her grip tightens on the paper until she accidentally rips it.

Is he expecting her to follow along with this? Chase after them, maybe? Because she won't, no way. That would be stupid and childish and. . . and. . .

And she kind of wants to. She wants to know why he slipped this to her. She wants to know what the hell he might be talking about. She wants. . . well, what she wants more than anything, really, is something that takes her away from this awful town and this miserable house, with its shadowed windows glaring down at her like the eyes of a disappointed parent.

Lorne. . . wants to go on an adventure, and admitting as much to herself fills her chest with such a vast, bitter sense of longing that it almost hurts her to breathe. She stuffs the paper back in her pocket and quickly takes off in the direction that the young men went, feeling a great deal of weight spill off her shoulders and an almost smile take to her face as she calls out for two complete and total strangers.

"Hey, wait a minute! Guys. . . wait for me!"

Yeah, this is probably the worst idea that she has ever had. And her smile stretches even bigger at the thought. How long has she been good? How long has she been making the right, responsible choices in life? God, she has never toed the line at all. Never been reckless. Never made snap decisions. She has certainly never chased after two bizarre men in the middle of a storm.

But it feels. . . it feels good. It might even feel great.

A small, not quite hysterical laugh bubbles up in her throat as she runs across the empty street. It happens fast, too fast for her to understand. A strange, wavering tear in the darkness that shimmers above the pavement -like someone took a knife and simply cut a hole into the world. A bright green light. A tightness in her stomach and a sudden, sweeping dizziness.

And then, Lorne is falling.