Disclaimer: I don't own Hobbit, any of its settings or characters. The original work belongs to JRR Tolkien. Adaptations in the movie belong to Peter Jackson. I only own my OC.

This Chapter has been edited. Only minor differences, so if you've read the original, it is not necessary to read this one. (Though I would love it if you did)

She knew before opening her eyes that something was terribly wrong.

The ground beneath her was hard and scratchy, completely unlike the soft mattress she had been sleeping in for the past several weeks. She could see light bleed through her eyelids. Normally, the thick curtains would be able to keep her room dark at any hour of the day. It was warm, too, when it should have been a bitterly cold December morning. And while she claimed to be no expert, she was sure the melodious twittering of birds was unlike anything she had heard in the Highlands.

As pleasant as it was—being woken up be the sounds of nature, that is—she felt her heart leap in her throat as she sat up quickly and looked around the small meadow that was bordered by intimidating forest. Her mind went through any possibilities that would explain her sudden appearance in the middle of nowhere. Kidnapping? Cruel joke? Dream?

It had to be a dream. Why would someone go through the trouble of kidnapping a nobody, knocking them out, and dumping them in the woods, away from any civilization? And she couldn't see Carmen or Eric even thinking of trying to pull something like this off. They were way too nice. Maybe it was one of Eric's cousins? They seemed to be serious pranksters…No, they weren't that big of assholes. It had to be a dream, but at the same time, it couldn't. She felt a chill run down her spine when she realized how completely real everything looked, sounded, and felt. The fact that she was even thinking about this should be a tip that this couldn't be a dream.

Dream or not, she knew she couldn't sit in this meadow forever. Looking to the sun, she figured it must still be relatively early in the day, maybe around ten or eleven in the morning, if dream mechanics functioned like regular world mechanics. She needed to find civilization, or at least a sign pointing her in the right direction. However, looking around the meadow once more, she found she didn't know where to start. She had no clue where she was, so she couldn't pick a direction and know that was the way to go. She would have to resign to wandering around, praying that she found a stream or, even better, a road, and hope that she had remembered enough of the survival training she received from her father to not die in the wilderness.

She swallowed, realizing how dry her mouth was. Sweat was forming and soaking into her shirt as the sun beat down on her back. Perhaps water should be her first priority.

The sun was setting and she had gone through the day without finding anything-no roads and no water. After leaving the meadow, she climbed one of the trees, with difficulty due to her small stature, to get a better bearing of where she was. There were mountains to the east: a magnificent range of snow capped peaks that scraped the sky. She looked at them in awe and confusion; she didn't remember seeing mountains like this anywhere near Inverness. Their appearance only made her feel more lost. She climbed down from the tree and headed north, finding herself stuck in thick brush and thanking whoever that she had at least ended up here wearing at least somewhat practical clothing consisting of a leather jacket, jeans, and comfortable boots. The bushes and undergrowth were caught in the denim and in her laces as she forced her way through the forest, but at least it was preferable to being stuck here barefoot and in her pajamas.

She looked at her watch; it was 6:17, meaning she had been walking for more than seven hours without food or water. She was exhausted and moderately dehydrated, but she had no choice but to stop and continue her search in the morning when there was light. For now, she would rest. Perhaps she would wake up in her own bed, but the soreness in her body and aching in her head drove it in that this was all real. As she was about to settle on the ground against a rock, which provided a little shelter, a wolf howl sounded in the distance, and she all but jumped into a nearby tree, scrambling up to some higher branches that would serve as her new, and even less comfortable, bed. However, she would rather not have any run-ins with any of the native wildlife.

As if she was going to get any sleep in the first place. Worries plagued her mind. Where was she? Would she be able to find her way home? Did anyone know she was missing? She hoped Carmen would realize something amiss when she didn't return to the house tonight. Maybe she would call the police, and they would send search parties. Maybe they would find her before she succumbed to starvation or dehydration. Then she would see Carmen, hug her tight, never letting go, and apologize for all the times she had been difficult and troublesome and annoying...

But, how would they even find her, since she was obviously nowhere near the Highlands?

She took a deep breath, stopping herself from crying. She couldn't think about this right now. She had to focus on surviving. Once she survived, then she could cry all she wanted.

She woke with the sunrise from a restless sleep. The noises of the forest at night unnerved her and it was difficult trying to make herself comfortable on the branches. She was also painfully aware of how hungry she was getting, having not eaten anything in at least a day. Stomach growling and still tired, she carefully descended from her treetop shelter, stretching and rubbing her sore muscles once she reached the ground. She stepped through a brush and her jeans became wet with dew. Kneeling down by the bush, she examined the leaves and saw the little droplets of water.

Sucking the dew off of the leaves gave her little relief. It wasn't enough water, and without a container of some sort, she didn't have anyway of collecting it for the rest of the day. It would, however, have to suffice, since she had not found any other sources of water.

She went to different bushes and drank up as much dew as she could, avoiding the plants that looked suspiciously similar to poison oak and poison ivy. By the time it reached mid-morning, the sun had evaporated whatever water remained on the leaves, and she was forced to move on.

She trudged through the forest, still going north, only guided the position of the sun through the canopy of leaves above her. She rubbed her belly, trying to soothe the pain in her stomach. She didn't want to take her chances with the mystery berries she came across during her trek, not knowing whether they were safe, or poisonous. Her stomach let out an angry growl. What she would give for something to eat, anything to eat. She would bend over backwards even for some stale cereal or a can of green beans.

Something caught her eye on the forest floor, and she dropped to the ground to study the small plants with tiny, red, plump berries.

They looked like strawberries, smelled like strawberries, and she knew that strawberries had no poisonous lookalikes. She picked one and plopped it in her mouth, letting out a pleased sigh as the sweet juice tickled her taste buds. She gathered more, eating some and placing the rest in her jacket pockets. The small plants were numerous, but she hoped it would last until she found a town or a person or something that could help her. She still mentally celebrated her find.

One her third morning, she climbed down from a tree. She repeated her dew drinking ritual and ate the last of the strawberries. She was exhausted and starving. The strawberries barely took the edge off of her lightheadedness. She considered going back for more, but wondered if she'd be able to find them again. They were at least a day behind her, and her trail was not a straight one; she had to scramble over boulders and go around impassible clusters of trees and brush. There was also too much of a risk of wasting what remaining energy in trying to double back. So, she spent most of the day stumbling along, most of her determination gone. She had been able to force open some pinecones to get the nuts, which was fortunate.

What would her mother being thinking, seeing her hunched over, breaking open a pinecone for some seeds?

She smirked. The poor woman would have a heart attack from seeing her only daughter in such deplorable conditions. The smile slipped from her lips. She never realized how much she could miss her mother.

She whipped around at the sound of a twig snapping, mentally preparing for a wolf or a bear to leap out and attack her, ending her endless trek through the wilderness.

It wasn't a wolf or a bear; it was a man. He was dressed in a worn cloak, that looked like it had been black at one point in time, an odd wardrobe choice, but one that she didn't question now. His hair was disheveled and light brown and his jaw was dusted with fine stubble. If the scenario had been any different, she would have swooned at his ruggedly handsome looks.

She almost felt like crying; finally, a person! Instead, she croaked out, "Are you real?"

His look of surprise shifted as his brow furrowed and he looked at her worriedly. He replied, "Of course, I am real."

She approached cautiously, reaching a hand out to touch his cloak. She had to be sure he wasn't a figment of her imagination. Four days of being lost and on her own made her incredibly desperate for human contact and she feared she was starting to see things. The fabric was rough and dirty, but it was real. She let out a cry and wrapped her arms around the man's torso, much to his surprise. He stumbled at the sudden contact, but once he regained composure, he awkwardly patted her back as she cried into his chest.

She let go, stepping away from him. "I'm sorry," she said, reigning in her sobs. "It's just…I'm lost and I've been out here for days and I thought I was going to die alone in this goddamn forest."

He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You are not alone anymore. What is your name?"

She felt relief fill her. He was so kind. "Mirela."

He introduced himself as Robert, a hunter. He led her to his camp as he explained that he and his brother (Damian) sold meat and animal skins in the village of Bree.

"Where are we? Is this still the Highlands?" she asked, seated by the fire as Damian cooked dinner. The man was bigger and burlier compared to Robert, who was tall and lean. He also looked older and like he had seen his fair share of fights. His face was riddled with scars and carried a permanent frown. The man was terrifying, so she settled with passing him uneasy smiles and only addressed Robert. Damian didn't seem like the talking type, anyway.

Robert gave her an odd look. "Pardon?"

She sighed. "Look, I get that you guys are LARPing or whatever and don't want to break character, but I'm lost and I really need to get home. Where are we, seriously?"

Robert raised an eyebrow and shot his brother a questioning look. Damian shrugged and went back to skinning a rabbit.

"We are a two days journey west of Bree-land," Robert finally answered. "Where is your home, Mirela?" He eyed her up and down, taking note of her strange clothing and mannerisms.

"Inverness," she said, desperate for them to stop this game and give her useful information. "Well, I've been vacationing in Inverness; that's the last place I remember being."

"In all of our travels, we have never encountered a realm of that name."

Mirela groaned. "It's not a realm, it's a city! It's in the Scottish Higlands. My friends are there; they're probably worried sick." She wished they would stop looking at her like she had grown a second head and started speaking an alien tongue. Of all the people she could have run in to lost in the wilderness, it had to be a pair of extremely devoted LARPers. "Scotland is in Europe," she said slowly, trying to get an actual affirmation from them that yes, they knew what she was talking about. Both men regarded her with blank stares. Are they idiots or purposely being ignorant? "Have you heard of America? My family's from New York. I'd like to return to them eventually." She figured it was more likely that she'd still be in Scotland. It seemed like a lot of work to knock a girl out and transport her unconscious body across seas.

"We can take you to Bree," Robert said. "Perhaps there you will find someone who has heard of this 'Inverness' or 'Newyork'." His tone of voice betrayed his skepticism.

She was about to snap at them, repeat that she had been lost in the woods for days without food, water, or supplies, had no clue where she was, and that they should be decent human beings and help her out instead of playing their stupid game, but she didn't. She doubted it would have changed anything, except make them think that she was ungrateful and insane. They were already giving her food, water, and company. Hopefully 'Bree' wasn't too far away and there were people there that could point her in the direction of the nearest payphone.

Damian handed her a stick with a chunk of cooked rabbit meat. Normally, she would have reservations about eating anything that resembled Peter Rabbit, but the smell of meat was so overwhelming she could care less what animal it came from. She tore into it, barely taking the time to chew and not caring whether or not she looked lady-like doing so. Robert smiled and handed her a piece of hard, dry bread, which was less tasty than the meat, but equally satisfying. She downed that as soon as she finished the rabbit, taking large gulps from a waterskin to help wash down the food. Robert entertained her with stories from his childhood and many journeys. She silently commended him for creating such depth in his character.

After dinner, Robert set up a bedroll for her, despite her protests that he wouldn't have anything to sleep on. He insisted. Once she realized how comfortable it was compared to tree branches, she stopped arguing and fell into the most restful sleep she had since arriving in this place. Despite their oddities, she felt secure in their presence, and from what they told her, the village of Bree was only a few days away. Only a few days more, and she could be on a train, bus, car, or plane home.

Mirela woke up sometime in the middle of the night. She heard shuffling as one of the brothers roused to other to take watch. She questioned the practice earlier, wondering why it was needed. Robert explained that there were all sorts of nasty animals and people that prey on travelers. Keeping at least one person on watch allowed them to be alerted of oncoming danger. She accepted it, deciding to let them do what they wanted with their weird game.

Damian had taken the first watch while she and Robert slept. She heard Robert groan and shift on his bedroll before sitting up. They began speaking to each other, using lowered voices so as not to wake her. She tried to ignore their mutterings and go back to sleep until one part of their conversation caught her attention.

"The girl's cracked," Damian said. She frowned. Even when they thought she was asleep, they had to remain in character.

"Yes, but women tend to be an eccentric lot," Robert said. "Besides, those things do not concern Kurt. She will serve her purpose and we will become rich men."

There was silence following Robert's statement. Mirela did not understand what they were talking about. Who was Kurt? She felt a twinge of dread in her gut. She did not like where this was going.

"Are you having reservations about this now, brother?" Robert asked. "Fortune has smiled upon us. She comes with us willingly. Or were you hoping to steal a farm girl away from her home in the dead of night?"

This had to be another part of the game. These two could not be human traffickers. It was all a joke. A terrible, tasteless joke. She struggled to keep her breathing slow and steady, so they would not find out she was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Keep quiet," Damian warned.

Robert chuckled. "She will not wake. The poor thing is exhausted, and I gave her chamomile to help her sleep soundly." He continued, "She is easy money. No one will be looking for her. Did you hear what she was rambling about? You are right about one thing, Damian: she is cracked. Her family must have run her out of their home, unable to deal with eccentricities."

Damian replied, though hesitantly, "You're right."

"Of course I am. Now get some sleep, brother. Our journey is not over yet."

Damian shuffled to his bedroll and there was silence for several minutes until he began snoring softly.

Mirela stayed still on the bedroll, unable to move with Robert only a few feet away keeping watch. She still couldn't believe what she had just heard. Any sense of security she had with them went out the window. She had to find a way to escape.

I have a weakness for girl-falls-into-Middle Earth. Some people might hate them, but I love them, because they take a person and thrust them in extraordinary circumstances that they don't know how to deal with and it's kind of fun to watch them develop.

Anyway, let me know your thoughts and feelings about Mirela and this chapter.