Hey, lets try this author's note thing again, shall we? Um, this will eventually be Aragorn/OC, though not for a long time. The main character is a witch, so I'm going to talk about magic. If you don't like magic and fantasy, what the fuck are you doing here? There will obviously be swearing, obviously. Violence. Maybe some other things. Um, I've got this pretty well planned out, as well as a sequel. No promises though. This will be mainly movie based, but a few things from the books will slip in. Don't get mad at me for messing things up. I think there was something else I was going to say, but whatever it was couldn't have been that important, because I can't remember anything else...

Disclaimer: the only thing I own is Lilith, her family and history, the little bit I'm changing the plot, and the name of this story. I'm not making any money. No offence intended.


It was a dark and stormy night, and I knew something bad was going to happen. I have a kind of sense for those things. It happens when you live with the bad stuff bad have to look after yourself. At that moment my sense was telling me to turn around.

I should probably explain some things here, before I continue. My name is Lilith Maud Veneficae. I was born nineteen years ago on March 22nd. My mother left me at an orphanage run by nuns with just my name and a letter. I stayed there until I ran away at the age of nine. Needless to say, I didn't last very long. Within two months I was back, but I'd gotten a taste of freedom, and I'd liked it. At thirteen I was arrested by the police for attempted robbery with a weapon. I was sent to a ranch for troubled teens. I learned many things there, but most importantly that everyone deserves a second chance. Just before I turned sixteen there was an accident that I caused with my magic.

Yes, magic. I'm a witch.

I left the ranch then. That's all you need to know as far as I'm concerned. Probably more than, actually.

Well, one more thing. I'm terrible at lying. And once I get started talking I never stop, so I let things slip I don't mean to…. See what I mean?

So, back to the dark and stormy night. I was in NYC Park. It was nearly 11:30. It wasn't the kind of place I'd want to be on a regular night, but the addition of lightning threw strange shadows making it impossible to navigate the dark path through the trees. The thunder blocked out the regular sounds of the city, and anything that might be in the park with me. I was protected from the worst of the heavy rain by my jacket, but the wind had knocked my hood off my head and my blonde hair was soaked and sticking to my face. All in all, it was the worst possible ending I could think of for the day.

I'll try not to go into too much detail. Basically my crazy-wizard-mentor had shown up out of the blue after being away for nine months doing God-knows-what. He'd proceeded to send me all over the city collecting ingredients. And I'm not talking about cake ingredients here, I'm talking about… well, I'm not sure yet. Something my crazy-wizard-mentor wanted to try. Tonight, at the park. Which is why I'm here.

After another blinding flash of lightning I noticed candle light. It was what I'd been looking for, and unless there was another wizard in the park trying to do a ritual, I'd finally come to the right place. I walked toward the candle light and found myself in a small clearing. There were five candles in the shape of a pentagram which I knew were only being kept burning by magic in this weather. Ishmael, my crazy-wizard-mentor, was reading a large book form the light of his pentagram.

I should probably explain what a pentagram is, now that I've mentioned it twice. A pentagram is a five pointed star inside the circle. Each point represents one of the five elements (fire, air, earth, water, and spirit). The circle represents them all united. It is a strong magical symbol. Magic works only when someone truly believes. When a person has powerful faith in any symbol and what it stands for, it repels harmful entities. It can also create a very bright light when wanted.

I have a simple pentagram pendant that I wear constantly. My father gave it to me. It was inside the letter my mother left for me. I believe he was a wizard.

Ishmael glanced up at me as I entered the clearing, the resumed reading. "Good, good. You found everything I take it?"

"Yes." I set down the bag of ingredients I had been carrying.

"Quite good. Then we must get to work! It is almost midnight." He closed the book with a click, then slide it into his pocket. He picked up the bag of ingredients he had brought, and had me guess what to do with the rest based on what I knew. I am proud to say he did not have to correct me more than twice.

Once everything was in the correct position Ishmael said "Do you want to come with me?"

"What?" I blurted in total confusion.

"Haven't I told you yet what this ritual is for?" he asked impatiently.

"No, you haven't."

"Oh. Sorry." He did look sorry, for about a second, then moved on. Ishmael is old, in human standards, over 200. The best word to describe him is absent-winded. Or crazy. Your choice. "Well, as you know, for the last nine months I have been researching I theory I've had on J.R.R. Tolkien-"

"I didn't know that!"

"Really? I could have sworn I told you." He wiped some rain off of his face. "As I was saying-" He was cut off this time, not by me, but by a glowing light. After I had arrived he had set up a type of ward. This ward warned us if anyone was nearby, and also disoriented that person. It wasn't strong enough to stop them from finding us if they really wanted to, just increased the storm in the area around them.

I had no idea why Ishmael had bothered to set up wards on a night like this, but from the look of worry on his face I could tell it wasn't good.

"Quick! Stand back. I'm going to begin the ritual." He shouted over the storm. He pulled the book he had been reading earlier out of his pocket and began chanting in a clear strong voice. I didn't know the language. Latin is usually used in magic, and I had become familiar with it. This language most definitely wasn't Latin. The words were warm and mesmerizing, and even though I couldn't understand them I found myself listening closely.

Shadows began to appear within the pentagram. It seemed to draw the light into it, whatever was forming there. The shadows got larger until I could see a reflection of the trees around me. No, wait, not a reflection. The image in the shadows didn't have many of the things on this side. Neither Ishmael or I, the ritual items, or the storm were present in the image. In the sky I could see stars.

It was a portal.

Ishmael finished chanting and beckoned me over. I pushed through the wind as he yelled over a rumble of thunder "Time to go! Come on, quickly Lilith, before they-"

Bang.

A look of shock crossed Ishmaels' face as his eyes found a point behind me. His hand went to his chest and he crumpled. I whirled around readying a shield with my staff, but I wasn't fast enough.

Bang.

I felt something hit my chest with bone shattering intensity. I stumbled back a few steps. Oh, shit. My stumbles turned into a fall as I felt one of the candles behind me. Then the shadows were surrounding me, and then….

I landed in a puddle of water on the other side of the portal. I heard someone shout as if from a longs ways away "Quick! Someone get her before the portal closes." I could see the portal at my feet, and sure enough it was closing rapidly, far faster than it opened. The only thing I could see were several trees and the rain pouring through into this side. With a deafening rumble of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning the portal closed.

"Oh, shit." I whispered.

I sat up carefully, holding my left arm against my chest. I knew I'd broken my collar bone. And it hurt. A whimper of pain escaped my lips. I knew it could have been a lot worse, if I didn't have a protection spell on my jacket. It was a simple spell that just prevented the jacket from ripping or tearing, and my skin also when I was wearing it. I much preferred the broken bone I did have to the bullet I didn't.

I hoped Ishmael was okay.

I looked around and found a small glimmer of hope. I was on a road. Sure, it was narrow and made of dirt, but it looked well traveled and had to lead somewhere. So I wasn't completely screwed. Just mostly.

I stood up slowly, leaning heavily on my staff. It, thankfully, had made it over to the other side with me. My staff is a very important tool, if not the most important. Well, besides the brain, as Ishmael always says. The staff is the most versatile tool, and can be used in many different ways, unlike my ring, which is only good for a handful of spells.

When I stood up I gently undid the top of my jacket. My jacket is made of black cloth. It has a zipper that goes on a diagonal, with lots of pockets, buckles, and studs. It isn't the funnest thing to try to open without moving one arm. When I finally did get it open, I pulled away my cotton t-shirt to look at my shoulder. It looked red, and you could clearly see that it was broken. "On, shit."

There wasn't anything I could do but try to find someone to help me. And try not to move my arm while I was at it because if I did the bone would puncture the skin, and I really didn't want to know what that felt like.

So, I had to walk. But which way? Right, something told me. I started walking.

After what felt like an hour I heard something familiar. The steady sound of feet hitting the ground and breathing.

I froze. I was alone, in the dark, and I didn't know where the hell I was. Fear is natural, even when there is no reason to be afraid. Chances were I was the strongest magical anything in the forest. I had nothing to be afraid of.

I walked forward. Whoever it was was close, just around a bend in the road. The only thing keeping me from seeing them – and vice versa – was a few trees. What to do now was the question. "Hello?"

Silence.

Then the sound continued and they came into view. He was dressed in grey, with a long white beard, a sliver scarf, and a pointy blue wizard's hat. He was riding a brown horse. "Good evening." He said, once he stopped his horse. He seemed curious.

"Can you tell me where I am?"

"On the North-South Road, quite near to Tharbad now I imagine." His eyes studied me closely. "Are you lost?"

I still had no idea where I was. The North-South Road? Tharbad? At least he spoke English. "Yeah, extremely lost. I have no idea where I am."

"When I am lost I find it best to retrace my steps to figure out how I got where I am."

"I was in New York City Park. Ishmael, my mentor, had told me to meet him there. He forgot to explain what we were doing, he does that a lot. It must have been a portal. I didn't get to ask because someone shot him, and then shot me, but thankfully I was wearing my jacket so all it did was break my collarbone, and that's when I tripped and fell through the portal and ended up here. Well, not here, down the road, I've been walking awhile." I stopped for breath realising I'd probably said too much. Like always.

"That is a most interesting story. If it is true." He paused for a moment, clearly thinking deeply. "Your clothes are most interesting. I have never seen anything like them, and they also look wet. What was the weather like in this world you come from?"

"There was a storm. Lots of rain and wind and lightning." I answered. It was hard to believe, but my clothes were going to convince him I came from a different world.

"There hasn't been a cloud in sight here all night. I believe you." He dismounted and strolled towards me. "I believe you mentioned you were hurt?"

"Yeah," I started pulling aside my jacket and shirt so he could see my shoulder. "I broke my collar bone."

He examined my shoulder, and then looked at me intently. I felt like he was looking into my soul. He must have seen something he liked, because he smiled slightly. Then he lifted his staff, and gently laid the end against my shoulder, and muttered some words in a language I had never heard before. My shoulder screamed in agony and cracked. The man removed his staff.

I looked at my shoulder, expecting blood and gore and even more pain, and instead found nothing. Well, I shouldn't say nothing. There was one thing there; a perfectly fine shoulder. I ran my hand over it in disbelief. Healing took strong magic. I myself could barely manage cuts and scrapes. To heal a bone that fast….

This man, whoever he was, must have had an unbelievable amount of magical power.

"I don't believe I introduced myself. I am Gandalf the Gray." He held out his hand for me to shake.

"Lilith Veneficae." We shock hands.

"I have a proposition for you." Gandalf began. "Since I believe you will need a guide for this world, and I have a feeling you will help me greatly in the future, why don't we stick together?"

"Alright. It's a deal."