Disclaimers: All material from The Lord of the Rings trilogy belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. All other canon material from other works belongs to their respected owners. I only own Missy Timbers (my OC), other original characters, the plot, etc. Some ideas were inspired by other fanfics, involving some themes from the cliché "The Fellowship enters Our World".

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My new story and my take on the cliché classic "What if the Fellowship of the Ring were in our world?"

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Darkness and minimal moonlight. That's how the Mines of Moria became, for it had been four days since the Fellowship of the Ring entered the mines. So far, as they journeyed through Dwarrowdelf, with its towering stone pillars around every corner, stretching for miles on end, any chance of sunlight, moonlight and fresh air was worth leaving the dwarven rooms and halls.

However, they did stop upon a room, where a tomb lay before them. A shaft revealed bright silvery light, casting its reflection upon the tomb itself. Frodo understood, even as Gandalf said the words, that they had come across Balin's tomb. Gimli was distraught, collapsing before the tomb as though he had lost a good comrade. No, not just good, for Balin proved his worth on Bilbo's quest years ago. Though Frodo had not met Balin, he knew the pain of losing someone, for Frodo had lost his parents in a boating accident, when he was twelves year old.

"What is this?" Gandalf murmured, picking up a hardbound book. "It is the Book of Mazarbul."

"Who wrote in it?" Frodo dared ask.

"Frodo," Aragorn answered, serious.

Frodo met the dark-haired ranger's gaze. He admitted, "I'm sorry, Aragorn." He returned his gaze to the grey robed wizard. "Please continue."

"Ah. There's a lock on this book." Gandalf said, removing the lock. Only when he did thus, the stone around the walls and ceiling shook. Dust flew out in piles, amidst the cracks and crevices of the room.

"Pippin!" Frodo cried to his young cousin.

"Frodo!" Pippin called back. He stood next to Gandalf, but hesitated to move.

"Come on Pippin!" Merry called, gesturing forward.

"Be silent!" Gandalf huffed at the two young cousins. "You might send orcs or goblins our way. Trolls, if you are unkind."

"Gandalf," Aragorn called this time.

"The book you're carrying!" Legolas, the dark-haired elf, replied, pointing to the book. "It's glowing."

"What?" Gandalf said, understanding at last. The book's pages were glowing inside, as was the cover. "I'll lock it up again." Only when he fitted the lock, it wouldn't snap shut. It just kept glowing.

"AHH!" Gimli stood up, axe in hand. "Pay no heed to the elf. Open it, Gandalf. Open the book!"

"NO!" The other members of the Fellowship screamed. The floor shook now, more violently. Here and there, the Fellowship had to duck. In Frodo's case, he toppled over, right next to a dwarf's skeleton.

"Ah," Frodo said, softly. Whatever that book was doing was not his cause. If anything, Gandalf was still holding the book. "Gandalf, close the book. Please." But even his cries couldn't stop the entire room from shaking.

"I'll open this book, if it'll keep quiet," Gandalf said. He received many panged cries amongst the Fellowship, for the second time. But even he felt sure, whether by another force, to simply open the book.

And Gandalf did just that.

As soon as he opened the Book of Mazarbul, the pages scattered and flew all over the place. A bright light soon engulfed the room, sending the Fellowship of the Ring in different directions, into the air. The light continued to shine upon them, until they landed in groups of twos and one group of three in a strange land. A land they had yet to face. For this land was filled with horns, honks and scores of peoples moving to and fro in different directions.

It was obvious, even to Gandalf the Grey. The Fellowship of the Ring was no longer in Middle-earth. Or they were, but in an entirely new location and time.

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Thanks for reading. :)