Chapter One: The Hangover that Would Not End.
Andrea let out a sigh as she frustratedly flipped the page of her novel. Again, she felt as if the book wouldn't take her into its world. It was just meh. After reading the next sentence, she closed the book with a contented thud. She looked around from her spot on the floor. There was nothing in Barnes and Noble that would satisfy her.
She strummed her fingers on her knees for a few moments. The sound of the coffee grinder in the coffee shop made her twitch in further frustration. She grumbled as she got up. All I wanted to do was spending a relaxing evening at the bookstore. Find a good book and get lost in it. Is that too much to ask for?
Strolling through the next aisle, she let her eyes fall from book to book. Hoping that there would be one book that would speak to her so she could just go home. Nothing. Nope. No. Ugh, hell no.
Then she paused.
There it was. The book that had her caught in an eternal hangover. Its leather, mocha binding and gold letters taunted her. She reached out for it, but then stopped.
The Hobbit.
That blasted book. She hadn't read a good book in two years because of it. Compared to that book, everything felt stale and uninspired. She reached out and pulled the book to her. Flipping it back and forth, she thought, like she always did, the book looked like a small Bible. She ran her fingers over the embossed J.R.R. Tolkien symbol on the front.
She hesitated but turned to page 265, already knowing what she'd find there.
"They buried Thorin deep beneath the mountain."
Her chest tightened and a wave of frustration came over herself. She was a reasonable person after all. A scholar. She was in school getting her Ph. D. She shouldn't be pining for fictional characters. She even knew the name for diagnosing this kind of behavior. A parasocial relationship. Seventeen-year-old girls with crushes on celebrities did this. Not twenty-nine-year olds with two (soon to be three) degrees.
She had been late getting on the Tolkien train. She didn't pick up the most classic of kids' novels until age twenty-seven, but when she had it hit her hard. Andrea could still remember her best friend shoving The Hobbit films in her hand. Justin had threatened to lock her up until she watched them. Begrudgingly, she'd done so.
Within minutes, she'd been hooked. She watched the first two films and then ran out to buy the book. She'd stayed up all night absorbing this world. All the time in love with the dark and brooding Thorin Oakenshield. There was just something about him that spoke to her. That ruined all other men for her (again, she reminded herself how insane she was).
That line.
"They buried Thorin…"
She remembered the first time she read that line. The morning sun shine peeking through her open window as the sun rose. The smell of the rain from the night before. She could still hear the sound that came out of her mouth when she read that line. It was as if someone had punched her in the gut.
"They buried Thorin…"
The following months, she tore through The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, and the History of Middle Earth. She'd specialized in fantasy literature. Read every biography and article on J.R.R. Tolkien she could find to find closure. To find something.
She stood up straight and closed the novel.
Stupid book.
She shoved it back in its spot and walked out of the store. There was no use looking for a book at this point. She was too worked up. Too pissed off.
Rain was starting to fall outside. The smell of tar and humidity was rising into the air. She pulled her keys out of her backpack and clicked the lock of her car. Andrea noticed the odd contrast in the sky. There were thick black clouds stretching on all sides, but the sun still poked through in the twilight. She shivered as she got into the car. There was a still a chill in the air.
The drive home was melancholy. She hated when she got in this rut. All she wanted to do was grab a backpack and take off somewhere. Maybe India. Maybe Brazil. Maybe Ireland. She sighed and shook her head. Despite her travel plans, it wouldn't be enough. She would never be in Middle Earth. She'd never get to see the rolling hills of the Shire, the peaks of the Misty Mountains, or the long lake.
Hell, I'd take a view of Mount Doom at this point.
She flipped on the lights of her apartment and dropped her bag down. She just needed some sleep. She'd snap out of this existential funk eventually. I'll just accept that my life is never going to be anything but dull, once more.
She changed out of her wet clothes and put on her pjs and her hoodie. She halfheartedly laughed at her reflection. She had an oversized hoodie with Smaug on the front.
Yup. I'm a mental case.
She looked at the smaller version of Smaug on the map she had on the wall. There is was Erebor. The home she would never get to see. She took a pencil and drew a small heart at the base of the mountain, just opposite Dale, across the river. With a small smile, she turned the lamp off and climbed into bed.
When Andrea woke up, she was much colder than she should be. It was pitched black. The power must have gone out from the storm.
She reached her hand out and just felt air. Frustrated she reached around and felt grass under her fingertips.
What the ever-loving hell is happening?
She sat straight up and felt around with both hands. Wet grass. Why was she on wet grass? Where was her bed? She felt her torso and legs. She was still wearing her pajamas. She stood up, still unable to see.
For a few moments, she stood there, frozen. Not sure what to do. She was frozen, petrified to step on a spider or a snake (or off a cliff with her luck). She had to figure out something.
Maybe it's just one of those hyper realistic dreams. I just need to scare myself and when my heartbeat rises, I'll wake up.
She nodded her head, agreeing with herself. She took a deep breath and sprinted forward, her socks getting soaked on the cold, wet grass. She held in a scream. Or perhaps she was screaming and nothing was coming out. That was how dreams worked.
She began to get winded and stopped. There was finally light. The moon was finally visible. Maybe she was in a park. Or something.
Andrea shook her head. She couldn't seem to understand what was happening. She peered at the moon. It was the moon. She was sure of that.
Okay, we know one thing. The moon is the moon and that means it's night.
Then she turned around.
Against the moonlight, she saw the outline of a mountain to her right. Her jaw dropped open and she turned to her left. She could see lights coming from a city. But not blue, artificial light. She could see several individual candles.
She swallowed slowly.
Okay, we know two things. I'm not at home.