Note:
My best friend, Anna, and I were watching Lord of the Rings and came to the conclusion that the Fellowship, while well meaning, is a bit of flailing mess. We therefore decided that should Elrond have thought to invite Anna and I to Rivendell, we could have been rid of the Ring in only a couple of weeks and with minimal casualties.
This started as a joke between Anna and I, and escalated into something epic. This is just silly, self-indulgent (but diligently researched!) crack-fic.
The ranger adjusted her pack as she walked. Although her travelling leathers were considerably lighter than the mail armour she usually favoured, the journey had been long and her pack was heavy, and she tugged irritably at the straps where they were digging into her shoulders.
She had long left the Great East Road behind and had been picking her way through the moorlands and foothills of the Misty Mountains for some time. Uncertain of the route, she had found herself accidentally turned round on a number of occasions and was glad to have finally reached the approach to Rivendell. Up ahead, elegant white arches and dove-grey towers peered over the dense canopy of trees. Even in the meager light of the late evening sun, the autumn-hued leaves shone with vibrant shades of red and gold.
Annamir had always been one to appreciate a fine landscape, always been one to admire the majestic arch of a mountain, the lazy tumbling of a woodland stream. A natural affinity for nature was one of the reasons she had become a ranger (that and a stubborn proclivity towards solitude and penchant for stabbing things). Had Annamir stopped to look, to admire the towering, snow-capped Misty Mountains and the roaring falls of the Bruinen river, she would have declared Rivendell to be one of the finest vistas in all of Middle Earth. But Anna did not stop, did not so much as slow her punishing pace. The Wizard's letter had urged her to hurry, and while it was furiously lacking in details, Anna could tell from the tone that something was amiss and her immediate attention was required.
Annamir didn't like to hurry; she liked to ramble, to move at her own considered pace, and usually felt no qualms with making people wait. Hurrying felt unnatural, and the frenzied journey had left her feeling uncharacteristically tired and anxious.
The familiar prickle on the back of her neck alerted Anna to the fact that she was being watched and, at last, after nearly three weeks of constant travel, Annamir stopped. Acknowledging her surroundings for the first time, Anna found herself in a wide courtyard, wrapped by a cloistered walkway and occupied by a lone, twisted tree. A few elven faces peered at her from a distance with open curiosity (and the usual level of elven condescension) but none made any move to greet her.
With limbs left graceless from travel, Anna dropped her pack to the ground, casting it a resentful glare. Every muscle in her legs urged her to take a moment and rest but, having travelled so far and so quickly, Anna was impatient to find out for what purpose she had been so urgently summoned. She had just begun to stride across the courtyard to interrogate one of her elven onlookers when a familiar voice bellowed, "Annamir, daughter of Annamund, what took you so bloody long?!" She could hear the smile in his voice. "Did you get lost? Perhaps your ranger skills are not as honed as you claim." Anna bit back the first response that came to mind (something about impertinent conjurors of cheap tricks) but instead turned to embrace her old friend; "good to see you too Gandalf."