Authors' Note:

LadyTeldra = LT

bloodangel95 = BA

LT: Welcome to our first co-written fan fiction as well as our first published story.

BA: We sincerely hope that you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it!

Rating: T to be safe, we do use a bit of language and may end up with eventual adult themes, though minor.

Warnings: There will be romance later in the story, it is a fact. OoCness will probably show up as well. Though we will be trying to keep them as close to character as situations allow. Minor language and adult humor, again minor, is to be expected. Violence should be expected since this is LotR and there were battles and fights in the books and movies.

Disclaimer: We do not own The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or anything pertaining Middle Earth. If we did, we would be rich beyond belief... =.=

PS: If we did, I would totally have the larger share. -wink-

PPS: I, Teldra, learned there is no actual rule for FF saying we have to put a disclaimer.

Chapter One: The Diversion

The main room of the pub was much like any other. The air reeked of ale and smoke, two of the substances most sought after in such establishments. Hiding beneath those, lies the repugnant scent of blood, sweat, and vomit. Each ingrained deeply into the atmosphere from decades of bar fights, overindulgence, hard work and poor bathing habits. The floor is a patchwork of light wood and dark, unidentifiable blobs of colouring. The ceiling and walls are the same light wood as the original flooring, though dust hangs high in corners and a few areas have begun to rot.

The room is a far cry from the previously exuberant ambiance. Silence reigns as the crowd stands shocked. The crackling of the fireplace can be heard throughout the pub and a few sharp ears even pick up the pattering of rain from outside. They wait on bated breath in the face of the little hobbit's disappearance. Some were curious, some afraid, and many too drunk to care about what had just occurred.

Without warning, a radiant flash of light blinds the room causing most to look away from the source, swearing as they try to blink away spots and more than a few headaches. Few notice two muffled thumps in the face of their own discomfort. They do notice, however, when, from where the hobbit had vanished, a long string of expletives is heard in the form of a distinctly female voice.

"Mr. Underhill?" One of the patron calls out questionably as the light fades back to normal. As people turn to look at the disturbance, a loud gasp resounds from the people close enough to the spectacle. Two women lay in a tangle of limbs and clothing in the recently cleared perimeter. Lying face to face, one on top of the other, they are certainly a scene for the drunken men of the pub.

"Ow... What the hell?" A woman with crimson hair groans. Icy blue eyes are visible as she sits up before quickly disappearing in a pained moan. Her tie dye green tank top falls back into place over her black shorts. She looks down in surprise as she feels her seat move slightly. "Oh! Hi!" She exclaims in exaggerated excitement as she sees the other.

The other woman gives a painful groans as the pressure on her stomach wiggles. She breathes deeply weighing her response before slowly opening her eyes. She blinks. "I haven't woken up like this since that one time I drank a bottle of NyQuil..." She blows a strand of black hair out of her eyes and sighs. She takes note that her emerald dress shirt had ridden up exponentially even as one of the people around them drops to the floor.

With her black pants hanging dangerously low, her shirt revealing most of her stomach and ribs, and another woman straddling her, she must make for quite a sight.

The redhead takes a moment to look at the other before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Tears stream from her eyes as she follows the same thought process and offers the audience a lecherous grin.

The raven scowls harshly. As a loud wolf whistle tears through the general silence of the pub, a mortified expression crosses her face.

The room suddenly explodes with sound as everyone begins talking at once. Drunken gossip flies at the very thing everyone saw. Embellishments are spoken and quickly accepted as fact even as the women watch in confusion.

Chair legs screech on wooden planks as someone stands quickly. The confident steps seem to echo as the person moves easily as the crowd parts around them. The person's footsteps fall unevenly with obvious intervals. From her place on the floor the steps seem to echo through the raven's ears, who decides the gait sounds decidedly masculine in its aggressiveness. Sure enough, the man, for his body shape confirms what his gait suggested, stops in front of the women and grasps the red-head by the shoulder.

The redhead stops laughing and glares up at the hooded man. "Hey! Let go, you creep!"

"Stand up." He commands in a quiet, but harsh voice.

The other girl watches silently, her eyes sparking dangerously and muscles tensing as she prepares for the worse. She shifts her hips slightly to remind her companion exactly what she's using as a chair.

The one in tie dye grins goofily and jumps up to her feet. "Sorry, you're just so comfy." She smiles sheepishly before turning her gaze back to the man. "And just who do you think you are to be ordering me around mister?!"

"A man who can either save your life, or extinguish it. You will listen if you want to live..." He states, easily towering over her. The shadows playing across his face offer a sinister air to his demands.

The raven grits her teeth and makes a decision, to hell with playing weak and vulnerable. Her arm whips from her side to grab the man's leg in a firm grip. She nearly startles at the unfamiliar texture of the clothing, but pushes the thought away as she feels the muscles beneath her fingers begin to tense. Using her entire body as a fulcrum, she pulls his legs from underneath him and continues her roll until she pushes herself up and hops into a crouch, satisfaction shining in her eyes as he hits the floor with a thud, his hood miraculously still in place. "I do not believe you have the authority to make those threats..." Her voice is low and dangerous as she tries to calm the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

The redhead smiles smugly and places her foot roughly on his chest, knocking him back as he tries to sit up. "Nice one Wolf." Her smile then widens, turning more feral, as she leans down placing her elbow on her knee and expelling the air from his lungs. "I think we can take care of ourselves, as you can see..."

"Vixen, that smile is creepy. It looks more like you're trying to get into his pants than intimidate." The raven now known as Wolf intones, trying to diffuse the tension and salvage the situation.

The man takes as deep of a breath as able before looking into Vixen's eyes. "It seems we got off to a bad start. Perhaps we should move the conversation upstairs...?" He lets the question hang uncomfortably, drawing their attention back to the full pub room and the many men staring at them.

Vixen looks taken aback, blushing profusely. "I WOULD DO NO SUCH THING!"

He sputters as Wolf doubles over in laughter, applauding how well her comment worked out. "Ma'am, I did not mean the comment in such a way." His unseen eyes are wide and a dusting of pink creeps down his neck.

Vixen glares. "That blush says a different story there buster."

"Vix." Wolf whispers fiercely. "Let him up and lets hear him out... I don't like the looks of these people..." She casts a glance around the room, releasing a glower and low growl that manages to turn a few eyes away. "And I need to fix myself." She her hands to stay at her side suddenly acutely aware just how skewered her clothing is… and that her underwear had managed to ride up.

Vixen heaves a sigh. "Fine. We'll hear him out, nothing more." She says as if to disperse any ideas he might have. She applies a bit extra pressure before taking her foot off of the man's chest and letting him stand.

He eyes the two carefully before gingerly climbing to his feet, not taking his eyes of the two dangerous... women, in front of him. He silently motions to the stairs, resolving to find the missing hobbit after dealing with the unexpected 'disturbances.' All three try to ignore the pub's gossip as they move up the stairs.

"Why is it always the rangers?" A loud voice bemoans. "Not only are they terrifying, they also get two wenches with barely a word!"

A tick forms on the two girl's foreheads, as the ranger attempts to avoid palming his face. 'No killing civilians. No killing civilians. No killing civi…' They continue to repeat the mantra in their heads.

He slips into a room near the back of the hallway, trying not to think about how this won't help the rumors, and stands aside for the others. He takes this time to actually catalog his company. Already having identified simple physical features, he focuses on more habitual ones. He notes the confident stride of raven known as Wolf and the deadly aura of grace she seems to exhibit without trying. She immediately seeks out exits and weapons as she walks into the room and calculations and emergency plans are nearly evident in her expression. On the other hand, he notes Vixen's gait is more delicate, though just as deadly, and seductive. Her eyes immediately seek out Wolf as if looking for something before scanning the room herself. She seems to focus only for shadows and areas threats could hide and it forces him to wonder the nature of their relationship.

The room is relatively small, only big enough for a single bed in the corner a primitive nightstand leaving a enough standing room for the three without them bumping into each other. The window directly across from the door was barred in a simple cross pattern made of wood, easily broken if need be, and only about ten feet from the ground. The candles around the room illuminated only a small portion of the area, casting unneeded and eerie shadows as the floorboards creaked under their feet.

In the middle of the room and their initial inspection complete, Vixen turns and eyes to the only male carefully. "Okay, listen here, we're going to play a game of questions. I'll ask one, then you, then Wolf, then you, then back to me. Sound fair?"

The man nods suspiciously, the hood still hiding much of his face.

She stares at him for a moment deciding the best course of action before asking her first question. "Who are you?"

The man tilts his head, calculating. Deeming it a fair question, he responds. "I am known as Strider in these parts."

Vixen raises an eyebrow at the strange reply before nodding, accepting the answer. Who are they to question names when they go by that of animals. "Now, you."

Strider thinks of a question, not knowing when their game will end. "From whence did you come?"

Vixen thinks it over before smiling mischievously. "Would long ago in a galaxy far, far away be acceptable?"

He holds back a sigh. "I highly doubt that would be acceptable in any society."

'Sadly, that isn't quite true...' Wolf thinks of an answer he may accept. "Would far to the west in front of an ancient portal work? I fear that is as close as I can think to a sensible answer." After all, telling him that they fell through the floor of concrete underground hideout barely makes sense to her… And would be giving away possibly classified information to an unknown entity.

Strider nearly takes a step back before calming himself. "If that is all I will get, I shall accept."

Wolf sighs in relief, before her face scrunches uncomfortably. "Give me a moment." She turns her back on him, aware that Vixen would do her best to stop any attack, she quickly adjusts her shirt and buttons a few of the ones that had unknowingly come undone. She grimaces as she grabs her pants toward the hips and gently tugging down. She releases a debauched moan and groans out, "God that's betters…"

Vixen snickers, hiding her mouth behind one of her hands as Strider seems to choke on air, turning a deep scarlet. No one notices the thump from outside the door or the sound of a body being dragged away after, and if there happens to be a bit more blood than when they entered staining the floor, well, they must not have seen it before.

"Vix! If you had the mother of all wedgies since you landed on a wooden floor with someone on top of you, you'd be thanking higher powers too!" She yells as Strider tries to get a hold of himself.

Vixen bursts out laughing, clutching at her sides. "Yes, but, I would have made sure that I wasn't wearing clothes that could give me the mother of all wedgies in the first place."

"Am I supposed to go commando when I leave the house?" Wolf huffs and turns back to Strider. "My turn. Where are we?"

Strider shakes his head in disbelief. "You came here, and yet, you have no idea where 'here' is?"

"Well, it isn't like we planned to end up on the floor surrounded by drunks and tangled up as if we came from the bedroom." Wolf states snarkily before looking to Vixen. "Do we? Have any idea that is?"

Vixen gains a thoughtful look. "His name sends off some alarms in my head, like I should know where we are just from that. But no, no we don't."

"You reside in Bree, the westernmost settlement of men outside of Hobbiton. The building is known as the Prancing Pony."

Wolf's mouth drops open, her mind racing.

Vixen's eyes widen in slight fear and excitement. "Oh shit..."

- End Chapter -

Authors' Note: Thank you very much for reading the first chapter of our brain baby. We would greatly appreciate and constructive criticism our readers can give us as we are just beginning along our writing path. Any ideas you have are welcome as well. We have a few chapters written beyond this, but they are not complete. Any thing we do use will be credited unless already there before suggested.

Thanks again.