I do not own Lord of the Rings, or Hobbits, or Magical Eagles, or Time Travel, or a car. As far as stories go, this is all fiction, so I like to imagine that I will, in the future, own a car. But not a job in accounting. Gosh, who does accounting? I don't own the concept of accounting for that matter, nor do I own the concept of parties. Or drowning in punch bowls. I don't own that. I do not own the first person perspective, perhaps Aspidoscelis ought to point that out, but she thinks that first person is free for everyone, so she's going to go back to using it now.
-Time Travel Hobbits-
This is a story concerning two things of legend, two things which should not be discussed except in whispers around campfires. Two things which have been known to strike horror into the hearts of the young, and which give even the elders trouble sleeping at times.
The first is a creature. A terrifying creature, of which we will speak later. The second is a concept. This concept is of the sort which most cannot quite fathom. A concept which makes one's brain stop in its tracks.
Hobbits. Time travel. Our story concerns Hobbits and Time travel.
It was a strange day when the stranger walked strangely into our land. Though to be completely honest, perhaps it was our land which was strangest of all. A strange idea, you may think, but to the stranger we were the strange ones. The stranger was a strange specimen, from strange lands. The best word to describe the situation is, of course, 'odd'.
He was short. Short like a Hobbit. Of course, we didn't know the truth at that time. Still, we referred to him as 'the Hobbity Man' and went about our business. It wasn't our concern that the great eagles had devoured the remains of Hobbitkind many years ago. He was short, but he certainly couldn't have been a Hobbit, and so we assumed he was a Man.
He had the most peculiar way of speaking, as if he'd not been jive with the new lingo. I daresay it was strange, but not so strange as to attract attention. As I said, we didn't know of his true nature. We would learn of his true nature much later.
I was working late in the office, doing some odd accounting mostly, and Janet was doing her best to keep me from actually finishing any of it. She was sitting on top of Steven's desk, which was precisely two and one quarter feet away from mine, and she was painting her toenails. Acid green. I loathe the color.
She was going on about some party we ought to be getting to, and I was doing my best to ignore her. Apparently there were going to be some interesting faces at the party, who I would be 'utterly, completely mad' to miss. Every so often she would fart, which got quite distracting. I mean, who farts in the middle of discussing a party? It's hardly ladylike, or all that civilized in general.
"-and I think you should go because you haven't been out dancing in, goodness, has it been years? Months at the very least. And I know it's because you're just a bitter old hag, but come on, you've got to get yourself out of this rut we'll go dancing, right? It'll be fun. Do 'ya want to borrow some nail polish? I SWEAR, actually, the color would look horrid on you, wouldn't it? It doesn't really go with your eyes. At all. Ugh, nevermind. Listen, the Hobbity guy is going to be there, the one from sales, you should come. He's got no idea how to sell things, did you ever notice that? No idea why they keep the dear around, he's not terribly useful. Always complaining about how he's supposed to get to Mordor. Psh, what is that, the warehouse he kills people in? He's got this ring, right, and it's like, gosh, it's like, he wants to destroy it or something. Total nutcase, you should come along just to see the guy. You think he got out of some mental hospital? I've heard stories about people breaking out and starting new lives in towns nearby, and like, killing people. Maybe he's like, schizophrenic? That would be great, wouldn't it? It would put our mudhole town on the map! Okay, not the killing part, but what if we got on the news after that? What about that? It's like,-"
She would have continued on in this manner, but at that very moment I threw a book at her. I don't recall which book, quite possibly the phone book, not that it matters, but I threw it at her and told her to 'please shut up'.
She glared at me for a few moments before getting back to her toenails. I waited the standard twelve seconds and spoke up before she got the chance to start talking again. Preemptive interruption, if you will. "I'll go to the party. We'll go in a minute, just let me finish up." She let me finish up.
I intended to go home and grab a dress of mine beforehand, but the moment I stood up she rushed me all the way to her car, practically abducted me, and was subjecting me to her version of a makeover in her apartment before I ever got the time to consider telling her to shove it. Ah, and she kept on talking the whole while. She also decided to start drinking early, and I was the one who got stuck driving her there.
"-and I don't suppose you've met Lewis yet, have you? Because he's a blast. A real scream. I just adore Lewis. He's a blast. We're here, you're ready, right? Right? Don't worry about it. You're fine."
She promptly got out of the car, flitted away, and left me to my own devices. I'm used to that sort of thing, don't assume it's all that strange. I flicked on the car radio, listened to the worst twelve minutes of music history, decided I'd either move out of town or jump off of the radio tower in the name of good music, then deserted the car in favor of the party.
They were playing the same music station. I should have expected it. Maybe, I thought, it would take too long to find the radio tower. I proceeded to dunk my head in the punch bowl, hoping for a gentle death due to drowning.
The Hobbity Man pulled my head out of the punch bowl, interrupting my burst of angst. "You look busy, do you mind if I interrupt you?"
"Of couuuurse not." I started laughing, realized there was probably some sort of heavy alcohol in the punch, then laughed some more. "What?"
"It's just that, you know, you were… drowning." He coughed, looking a little concerned.
"Yes. I was." I put my head back in the punch bowl, in the hopes that he'd leave me be this time. Technically he did, but I got my ass thrown out of the party pretty quickly, and the annoying thing decided to follow me out.
"So, why are you stalking me?"
"I'm Frodo, and I was going to ask if you'd-"
"Which mental home did you break out of?"
We stared at each other for a moment. It was the awkward sort of stare you get when two people who have no idea why they would ever want to talk to each other start talking to each other. "It was Sunnyfarmslandylandings, wasn't it? Or St. Francis of the Golden Bird Statue?"
"The Shire, Ma'am."
"That's stupid, there isn't a mental hospital called 'The Shire'." I proceeded to vomit all over the lawn. If I haven't mentioned yet, I'm a total lightweight. Didn't even need to drink the punch, really. "Okay, so how did you break out?"
"I walked out, you know, all paths form together like some river, and-"
"You walked out of a freaking mental hospital?"
He was still talking. "-giant magical eagle."
"Giant magical eagle?" I accidentally leaned over into my own vomit to make sure I'd heard him properly, and proceeded to vomit some more. "What giant magical eagle?"
"Don't ask. There was a giant magical eagle and time travel."
END CHAPTER ONE.
YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO LEARN THE STORY OF THE TIME TRAVEL FOR ANOTHER CHAPTER.
BE SAD.