by: Cathy-chan
Hehehe, with the title I bet you thought this was some Mary Sue, eh? Nope! I think my concept was, "Everyone's so focused on just the characters. How about the history and Middle-earth itself?" And I read somewhere that Tolkien created his world by pretending it's the actual, incredibly ancient history of Europe. I thought of this idea a long time ago, and for some reason I have the itch to write it, instead of letting it gnaw at my artsy-brain.
This is based on the book, not the movie. Why? The visuals and adaptation for the movie is simply stunning, but I like to base things on Tolkien's wise words.
But don't think I'm a Tolkienite scholar. Nossirie-bob! I'm just a college gal, that's utterly broke and a fantasy fan. I don't know a *fig* about precise places, noble elf/men descending lineage, what Valinor looks like, where did the Blue Wizards go or how to make one sentence in the elf, dwarf, ent or any-other-people language! I'm basing this on what I've read.
I have no idea how long it'll become. It's definitely an AU fic, pretty unusual for my style of fics. I hope you enjoy this! Feel free to review, suggest or give me constructive, critical feedback. Though, forget the flames; those won't work.
Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's ideas. This is just a fan's dedication, 'course. Although, the original characters are mine.
The Characters:
Mikhail Green
Haruki Yamano
Cassy Reyes
Mr. Stahv
Joseph (Joey) Reyes
Peter (Pete) Mogley
Lywellyn
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Chapter 1: The Finding
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"Mik, when are ya gonna grow up?" Cassy said to a young man perched on a wobbly, lengthy ladder. Above her head, she could hear him muttering numbers, phrases, a mishmash of incoherent muddle. Mikhail's messy, auburn curls bobbed side to side while leafing through a tattered book. Pacing back and forth impatiently, she tried repeating the same statement again for the fifth time. "You're not gonna find what you're looking for in this library. Hell! You can search the flippin' continent, and you'll have better luck finding Atlantis than that old myth!"
"Aha!!" he screamed, holding a huge, dusty book.
"What?"
He scanned through the words again. "Mmm--nope."
Cassy rolled her eyes. "Knew it."
Then "Aha!!!" again, louder.
"Oh, gee," she said sarcastically, "is this a better 'aha' than your other ten?"
Being too thrilled with himself and his discovery, he forgot everything else and fell on the ground in a heap. The book, oh-so-neatly, bounced on his skull before it landed on his stomach with an 'oof'. Cassy tried her hardest to look worried, but the loud laughter in her mouth won over.
"I'm sorry, Mik! It looked so funny," she said between the laughs.
Amazingly, he was neither offended or flinching in pain. Even with a bruised head, a stomach pain and an aching behind, he was still too occupied with the text he found. Indeed, he thought, the long search was well worth all the criticisms, ridicule and bumps in the world. For in the end, there was victory. Smirking crazily he took the thick book to the nearest table, and found the page he marked.
Pointing energetically at it, he declared in a grand statement, "The proof I have sought for 10 years! Finally, not one anthropologist or archeologist or scholar or anybody else who thinks they're so smart can laugh at me now! Take a good look at this, Cassy, 'cause it's gonna make history."
She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Imagine what this will do to the history of the world. Why, this'll make Greek, Norse, Celtic....all of those mythologies true. But no, not true but misinterpreted, they'll become, to the world, obsolete! They're all one and the same, according to the discoveries I got." He took a long breath, and recited an excerpt from another text. "The Vala and the One who created Middle-earth, before the bending of the world."
A full minute afterwards. "...This is one of your insane phases, isn't it?"
"This is not a phase. I was wrong about wanting to be an astronaut, teacher, street brawler or professional fencer, but this one's for real. I finally have the documented clues of its whereabouts." Where there was no response, merely another mocked expression on her face, he said, "You're only in this for that bet you, Joey and Pete made, aren't you? This isn't some silly, kid's game." He carried the book to the check-out boot and headed for the door. "This'll alter the way we see the world."
She ran and caught up to his fast pace across the street. "And you seriously think the university, press, organization--anyone will believe you?" she said, short-winded from running too fast and almost getting hit by a taxi.
"Haruki will believe me," he stated confidently.
"Of course she will. She's your fiancée!" She placed emphasis on the fact by spreading and waving her arms about.
Mikhail twisted his mouth and made an offended sound. "Mr. Stahv'll believe me too!" he pointed out.
Cassy halted purposely. Taking careful deliberation with each word she said in the most not unkind way as possible, "Mr. Stahv is a stinky, crazed bum that lives in damp, back alleys. Everyday, he approaches strangers, raving about the time of Elves, Dwarfs and Bobbits. You are the only human insane enough to believe him."
"It's HOBBITS." He snorted. "You make it sound like the Little People are Christmas decorations."
"Hobbits...bobbits. Whatever they are, they're not real. They're just as fictitious as--oh, Grim Fairy Tales."
They descended the stairs to the subway station and boarded a train. It was packed with the noise and sweating bodies of over-worked, seven-to-nine New Yorkers. Nevertheless, Mikhail managed to put an arm under the heavy book to open it ecstatically once again. On its worn, leather cover it read, in neat calligraphy: Ye Old Stories: A Compilation of Folk Lore. His focus was on a tiny, faded illustration of a map. It barely covered a fraction of the page's corner. Below it, there was a short, elegant row of an arcane script, runes from another language.
They arrived at the next station. "Mik, we're going the wrong way."
"We're not heading home. We're going to visit Mr. Stahv."
She laughed dryly and grumbled, "If that is his real name."
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In the murky depths of the buildings' shadow, a slouched man mumbled to himself crazily. His wet clothes, turned dull and grey from age, swung as he wrote down strange lines on the concrete with a chalk. Faded, web-like brown hair sticked out from all sides of his jaw and head. On his head was a baseball cap. Emblazoned in tainted white on the cap was: "NYC." He wore no shoes, despite the cold, fall weather. He held a twig in one wrinkled hand. He used it to jab the air when he saw Mikhail and Cassy coming towards him.
"Hullo, Mr. Green! Hullo, Lady Reyes!" he bellowed even when his visitors were a feet away. "And what be the news from the Tall Sparkling City?"
"I have much to tell, Mr. Stahv. Or rather, much that I need to show you." He dropped the book between them on the floor. Immodestly, he sat and crossed his legs beside the beggar. "I have finally found what we've been looking for all these years. Middle-earth does exist! And this'll prove it."
Mr. Stahv held his breath and scanned through the hazy runes. It was mere seconds before he popped his head up, smiled and said, "I knew you could do it, boy. These are remarkable findings indeed!" He lifted a bushy, unruly eyebrow. "Have you told anyone of this?"
"Only Cassy here knows about it. I found it today at a runned-down library."
"Good! Speak of this to no one," he leaned closer, "and I'll give you an even better evidence than written lore."
Mikhail's eyes went instantly wide. He raised his right hand. "I promise."
He grunted loudly as he hauled himself up from the floor to shuffle through the junk piled in a cardboard box. Five minutes later, he screeched a strange word and waddled to him with a toothless grin. He thrust it into the young man's hands. "A reward for all your hard efforts."
It was a package wrapped in a used T-shirt. Inside were two amazing treasures. The first one was a scroll. It appeared as if it could turn to dust with a fingertip's touch, but it held its shape within his grasp. The second was the opposite, strong enough to withhold any pressure. It was a portion of a cloth wrought of linked sterling that shimmered white-silver. Its beautiful, intense light defying the night.
What is that?" Cassy asked breathlessly in awe.
Holding it up in front of his face, Mikhail uttered, "...Mithril..."
To be continued...