Hello, everybody! :)
This fic is going to be mainly focused on family bonds and friendship between my OC and the characters. I love a good LOTR/Hobbit romance just like the next person but somehow I think that there are just too many of them now, and they're all kind of similar :/ Obviously there are many that I have read that have been fantastic and have blown my mind away, I just think I've gotten bored of romance. Hmm... Just me? (also, my character is thirteen... Enough said.)
Anyway, I hope that you thoroughly enjoy this fanfic which I shall attempt to write to the best of my ability. Happy reading!
Prologue: The Mysterious Case of the Cloak and the School-Girl
"After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure." - Albus Dumbledore
Name of deceased: Anne-Marie Lillian Fortice
The words glared up at him from the page, mentally searing themselves across his retinas.
His hand was shaking- from anger or exhaustion he didn't know- the paper crackling under his grip as he traced the cold, official print.
The incident in question had occured at exactly 3:59pm. The victim had been returning home from school with her earplugs in and her bag slung across her back. One minute she was strolling down the street, the next she was careening into the path of an oncoming truck, a cloaked black figure standing where she had been just moments before.
But, the strangest part of the murder itself wasn't the fact that the killer had been wearing a cloak of all things (in the middle of summer, no-less). It wasn't the fact that the figure had just magically popped into existence, nor was it that they vanished in the same manner straight after. The strangest part of the murder- at least in Detective Morris' opinion- was the fact that, despite the blood splatters, the school bag full of books spilled across the tarmac and the lone pink iPod found cracked and still playing, there was no body to be found.
Between one blink of a CCTV camera and the next, young unfortunate Anna had completely disappeared.
The detective sighed angrily to himself, tugging a hand through his grey roots as he leaned back in his chair and took a long swig of his beer. The image of the young twelve-year old smiled toothily up at him as she posed for her school photograph, near provocative in it's innocence.
"Two weeks," they'd said. "Two weeks before the case goes cold."
Shit, he didn't get paid enough for this. With a final swig, he downed the rest of the bottle, stood from his seat and dragged himself across the room. He glanced at the photo one last time- big eyes, big smile, big gap between two bucked teeth- and slid the file back into the draw, walking out of the office without once looking back.
And unbeknownst to him, a million worlds away, the little girl in the photograph was still very much alive.
In fact, she was sunken into the soft leather of a worn arm chair, cradling a cup of steaming chamomile tea in her shaking hands. Her hair was long and curly; a dark blonde that appeared to look mousy brown in the candlelight. Two wide brown eyes the colour of fallen conkers stared up from a pale, shocked face. Her lip jutted out as she chewed on it with two, uneven front teeth.
Her name was Anna Fortice and, just hours ago, she had been murdered.
Question for this chapter:
If you could be any race in Middle-earth, what would it be and why?
