Chapter 1 - The very long summer

Notes on this fic are at the bottom of the chapter. Enjoy!

INITIAL DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to Arda or any of the characters contained therein. This story is intended for non-commercial purposes andy is not an attempt to take credit for anything created by the marvellous J.R.R. Tolkien himself.

7th January, 2016.

Winter Newhall felt her stomach twist in anticipation. One finger hovered over the left-click on the mouse. Across the hall, the clock ticked. Measuring time. Crawling.

What have you got to lose, really?

The girl shrugged slightly to herself, eyes scanning over the webpage one last time. She sat half-hunched over the desktop computer, the mouse cursor lingering near the "Submit" button. Brisk footsteps in the hall caused her to jab the mouse before she could change her mind. Seconds later, she read the message on the screen with a mixture of trepidation and relief:

Thank you for submitting your application. The Arda Exchange Program is delighted to receive your expression of interest. Should your application pass our first round of screening, one of our assessment officers will be in contact with you via email in the next 7 days.

Winter grimaced slightly, and rose. Well, she'd done it.

"Winter?" came her mother's voice.

"Yeah?" the girl replied, rising and stretching. With one hand, she pushed a thick, lustrous mass of red hair over her left shoulder and turned to greet her parent.

Mrs. Ada Newhall moved forward briskly. She was a tall woman, though her daughter surpassed her by an inch or so in height. Everything about her movement was quick, efficient and purposeful. Like all of her offspring, she had thick, ruddy locks and creamy skin. Observers frequently remarked that Ada Newhall was a mirror image of what her daughter would look like in twenty-odd years. Winter, meeting the grey-blue eyes identical to her own, always considered it a compliment.

"Any luck with job applications?" Ada asked in her crisp, British accent.

Winter gave a half-hearted smile and glanced shiftily at the computer screen. Fortunately, she'd instinctively closed the webpage, and her gaze returned to her mother's.

"I've seen a few things, but it's too early to say. I've gotta wait and hear back from people," she replied vaguely.

Ada, at least, was satisfied by that comment. "I'm glad you're doing something about it," she nodded and patted her daughter's arm. "Sometimes, Winter, you're so unmotivated. If you don't watch out, you'll be fifty and still living at home." Leaving her daughter to process the unintentional barb, Ada smiled and bustled toward the kitchen.

Winter raised an eyebrow to herself after her mother's back was turned.

Gee thanks, mum.

Switching the computer monitor and the overhead fan off, Winter slipped out of the study and back to her room. She could hear her mother continuing with dinner preparations. It was hard to reconcile that it was nearly seven o'clock in the evening with the bright sunny sky and stifling heat. Brisbane summers were hot, humid, and long, particularly when her mother refused point-blank to get air-conditioning. Ada's English accent was still as crisp and starched as when she'd migrated to Australia as a seventeen-year-old, but she seemed to relish the heat more than her Queenslander husband.

Winter sighed as she flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

Dinner would be in an hour or so. And Howard would be home, fortunately. Dinnertimes were quiet and dull without Howard. Jeremiah was so busy with his studies that he didn't make for much conversation, and Winter was never really up to the task of initiating any. Her father was usually preoccupied with work, and Ada had long since ceased attempts to interest her husband and children in her studies at the university. Winter knew she ought to care more, but Ada's PhD in Art History seemed duller than ditch water. Besides, Winter had had enough of hearing about study for the foreseeable future. Four years of a physiotherapy degree had made her rather glad to leave the big sandstone columns of the University of Queensland behind her, as beautiful as it was.

She'd graduated just before Christmas the year before. Winter was profoundly glad to wrap up the long study period, move out of her on-campus residential college and prepare for "proper" adulthood.

Sure, she was moving back in with her parents.

Ye-es, she was a 22-year-old grown woman and didn't have a place of her own.

Maybe she hadn't ever done her own cooking.

That was all right. She'd learn, she'd get a job as soon as possible, and she'd leave Brisbane's tropical climate far behind her. Yep. That was the plan.

Trouble was, Winter admitted ruefully as she lay on her bed, all of those things required her to exert effort. And effort was in short supply these days, particularly with the hazy summer heat. University was a string of passes. College gee-up events were something to be circumvented. Her mother's lectures were accepted with a nod and negligible action.

She wanted to claim independence and move forward with purpose. Heck, if she could harness the amount of intentionality in her mother's right pinkie finger, Winter was sure she'd get exponentially more done with her free time. As it was, she spent her days half-heartedly researching physiotherapy positions and filling the house with the sound of her banjo. It was enjoyable enough, more enjoyable than the discomfort of uprooting.

You applied for the Arda Exchange though, didn't you?

Winter's stomach lurched and she sat up.

Impulse decision, she dismissed uncertainly. Besides, I'll never get it. You have to have more than a casual interest in Lord of the Rings to be accepted to the program.

That was true enough, she assured herself. Still, she wasn't sure if her knowledge of the Tolkien legendarium could quite be called "casual".

I can always say no, even if I make it through the initial screening. I never should have applied. A year away from home? In another universe? That was stupid. Mum and Dad'd never let me go either. If I get an email I'll just tell them it was a mistake. Never should've applied… wasting their time, really. But I can tell them that. It'll be fine. No need to tell Mum. She'd have a fit. No. It'll be ok.

Nodding to herself, Winter rose and moved to where the Banjo rested in its stand in the corner of her room. Grasping its neck and settling down with her back against her bedframe, she began to play. She caressed the strings with nimble fingers, and soon a rousing melody joined the steady clicking of the overhead fan.

"What did you do today, Howard?" smiled Ada, passing the green glass salad bowl across to her eldest son.

Winter turned to her brother as he shrugged in response and began dishing himself out some lettuce. "Not much, Mum. Work was good, got plenty done at the office. That woman in the next cubicle who clicks her pen non-stop is away for a few days, so I got a bit of peace," he grinned good-naturedly, gaze flicking from mother to sister across the table. Both smiled in response.

"That's wonderful, dear," Ada replied, whilst Winter quipped under her breath, "Maybe she's being treated for a repetitive stress injury."

Howard's eyes flicked suspiciously to Winter, and he fought hard to keep from laughing.

"And how's the holidays going, Jem?" he pressed onwards, attempting to distract himself from Winter's quasi-innocent expression.

Both turned to survey the youngest Newhall child, Jeremiah. He would start Year 11 at the end of January. At sixteen, he combined Winter's introverted tendencies with their father's seriousness and usually spent the family mealtimes wearing a slight frown as if he mentally working through a mathematical equation

"Alright," Jeremiah replied after a pause. "Just working through some practice QCS papers."

"What?" laughed Howard. "Already?"

"Well, Howard, you know he's only got about a year and a half till his final exams," Winter put in, innocent as can be. Fortunately, the well-disguised sarcasm was lost on both Jeremiah and Ada, as the latter nodded vigorously.

"Yes, he's preparing in good time, aren't you Jem?" she said proudly.

The boy looked from one to the other of them in slight bewilderment, as if overcome by the number of people addressing him.

"Sure, Mum," he said, spearing a cherry tomato and putting it into his mouth before anyone else could ask him a question.

Howard grinned, seeming to realise that was about all they'd get out of their young brother.

"How're things with Claire?"

All eyes turned to the head of the table. Peter Newhall's deep baritone voice was rarely involved in the mealtime discussions. He had an odd sense of humour, and Winter knew he preferred to sit silently and observe the family dynamic. His twinkling eyes bestowed their approval for Winter's subtle antics, before turning to Howard to answer the question.

"Good," the latter replied, happily. "She's looking forward to the wedding almost as much as I am."

"You ought to have invited her for dinner," Ada chastised him. "It's been far too long since I last saw Claire!"

"Only a few weeks, Mum," Howard reminded her.

"It cannot be only that long, it feels far longer," protested Ada, and Winter marked the contrast between her mother's sharp English and the relaxed Australian dialect of the rest of the family. It was never so obvious as at mealtimes, when they all gathered together.

"She was here for Christmas," protested Howard, with a laugh.

Ada eventually conceded. "I suppose you are right, but she should still come and visit soon, if she can."

A brief silence ensued. Howard met Winter's gaze and grinned. She merely arched her eyebrows in response, spearing some cucumber and a piece of steak on her fork and popping it into her mouth.

"You been applying for jobs, Win?"

Taking her time swallowing, Winter nodded. "Yeah."

"Anything good?"

"I dunno how good any job is when it involves massaging old peoples' backs," she retorted lightly, "but yeah, there are some that look promising."

"In Brissy?"

"Nah, Sydney or Melbourne, mostly. Blame Mum and Dad, they're the one that called me Winter and then planted me in the sub-tropics. I'm itching to head somewhere that's cold for more than a month."

Like Gondor. It's cooler there.

Stop it.

Howard acknowledged her point. "It is warm up here. It'll be sad not to have you settled nearby, though. Claire and I found a really nice place in Annerley we're hoping to buy after the wedding. We could've done dinners together some nights if you'd been in Brissy."

"Whereabouts in Annerley?" inquired Peter, speaking for an uncharacteristic second time during the meal. Winter allowed her father and brother to branch off from her job-hunt, glad not to be subject to any further questions. She had truly looked at jobs in Sydney or Melbourne, preferring the slightly cooler climates. Still, the Arda Exchange application made her feel rather silly, and she didn't want that to come out mid-meal with her mother present.

Whilst the two men talked real estate, Ada turned to probe Jeremiah a little further on his scholastic endeavours. Winter used the opportunity to finish off her meal, feeling vaguely sympathetic towards her reserved brother as Ada pressed him about past QCS tests and his future aspirations.

Leave him be, Mum. Goodness, I didn't know what I wanted to be until I got accepted to physio and just decided to do it. He's sixteen. He'll figure it out.

Jeremiah was looking distinctly uncomfortable, his creamy skin beginning to flush almost as red as his hair. Like Winter, he had a smooth, fair complexion and true orange-red hair, like their mother. Howard had the same ruddy locks, but, along with Peter, sported a dusting of freckles. Their father was the odd one out, his bristly hair being a comparably inconspicuous light red-gold. Winter couldn't count the amount of times they'd been referred to as the Weasley family, perhaps forming the root of her dislike for the Harry Potter series.

"I dunno, Mum," Jeremiah repeated.

"But you've decided to do chemistry, and I know you're interested in science—"

"Yeah, but that might not mean that I wanna do it at uni!"

"Well, you just think on it dear. Winter didn't decide till she was about to complete Year 12 and it was awfully slapdash of her, I thought she'd give up physiotherapy halfway through because it didn't suit her," Ada informed him. "You really don't want to find yourself in the same position, darling."

Winter suppressed an internal flash of annoyance. "I'm happy with what I picked, Mum. Jem'll know when he figures it out. But the beginning of Year 11's a bit early to decide. He'll have more of an idea after he's done some of his subjects in the next year or two."

Jeremiah shot her a look of profound gratefulness for getting him off the hook. Ada remained unconvinced, though her concerns were directed to her daughter instead.

"I still think he ought to be researching things now."

"He's doing QCS papers in the summer holidays. Somehow, I think he'll be right," said Winter, struggling to veil her sarcastic tone.

By this stage, Howard and Peter had concluded their tangent. Howard looked rather surprised by Winter's defense of their younger sibling, whilst Ada seemed a little hurt at her daughter's brusqueness. Grasping for a topic, she turned back to her son.

"Has Claire found a wedding dress, Howard?"

He laughed. "Dunno, Mum. You'll have to ask her; she doesn't tell me all the nitty gritty wedding details. I'm excited, but not that excited that I want to hear about her wedding dress and shoes and earrings."

"I'll send her a text after dinner," Ada smiled. "I'm sure she has one. Claire is such a sweet, organised girl. She'd never leave her dress to the last minute, especially as the wedding's only just—what, a month away?"

"That's still enough time for her to run away to Mexico, Howie," Winter said, with near-perfect seriousness. "Better keep her passport at your place."

"Unless we get sick of your humour—or lack thereof—and both go to Mexico," he teased in return.

Winter grinned. Yes, it was good to have Howard sitting at the table with them, matching her wit. She'd miss him when his visits became less frequent and he shared his own table with Claire. It was hard to dislike Claire, despite the fact that she was taking Howard away from the Newhall table.

You'll be leaving soon, too.

If I get a job – heck, if I apply for a job. The Arda Exchange doesn't count.

Pushing the slightly unsettled thoughts away, Winter sat in silence as the mealtime conversation wrapped up. After they all cleared away the plates and spent another hour in sipping coffee and nibbling leftover Christmas shortbread, Howard pronounced it time to go.

"Thanks so much for dinner, Mum. It was really good."

"You'll come over again soon?"

"Yeah—"

"I'm here all of this week."

"—I'll be round probably Thursday. And if she has time, I'll get Claire to drop in. She's busy packing up her apartment and wrapping up work at the childcare centre, so I don't see her much—"

"Such a shame…"

"—but I'll message her and tell her you'd be happy to have her over for a cuppa or something."

"That would be lovely," beamed Ada. "We do so love Claire!"

"And she really likes all of you," Howard grinned. "Except this one." He slipped a muscled arm around Winter's shoulders, and his brown eyes twinkled at her. "Who could possibly like you, Win?"

"About as many that like you," she responded sweetly. "So—none."

Howard laughed heartily.

"Really, Winter," admonished Ada, softly, her lips pursed slightly. "Can't—"

"Anyway, seeya Mum," Howard continued, embracing her. "Seeya Dad, seeya Jem," he called down the hall, and two voices called back indistinct responses. "And behave yourself, Win. I'll be back in a few days."

Winter leaned on the veranda rail next to her mother as Howard traipsed down the steps and headed for his car with a last wave.

"I'm so happy for him and Claire," said Ada, softly.

"Me too," Winter replied, and meant it wholeheartedly.

"No sarcasm?"

Winter raised an eyebrow to her mother, who had a teasing look in her eye.

"Nah, I'm not always sarcastic, Mum. Claire's really nice."

"I only hope you find as nice a man," sighed Ada, slipping an arm around Winter's waist. "You're very pretty, dear, and clever, and you'll make a good physiotherapist. But how are you ever to meet a young man when you spend all your time in your room playing the guitar?"

Winter bit her lip to hold back a broad smile. Still, she couldn't resist.

"It's not a guitar, Mum, it's a banjo."

Winter shifted uncomfortably. Her backside was beginning to grow numb from the time she'd spent sitting, leaning against her bookshelf. The notes of the banjo eventually echoed to silence. She lay the instrument down on the carpet beside her. She'd lost track of the time, and even her well-calloused fingers were beginning to hurt with the amount she'd spent playing.

It had been a boring week. Howard had ducked in and out a couple of times, brightening Winter's existence briefly. Aside from that, she'd spent hours lost in music and other pointless pursuits, hiding in her room to escape Ada's admonishments about her idleness. Her mother, as usual, was never without some form of activity. She drove Jeremiah to the pool every day for swimming training—he was a remarkably good swimmer, despite spending most of the day lost in a textbook—baked, cleaned, visited, exercised, wrote, studied and chastised her lazy daughter as the occasion presented itself. Winter made sure it did not occur more often than could reasonably be avoided.

Still, there was some merit to her mother's disapproval, she admitted, studying her reddened fingertips. Music was an escape, not a productive activity. Not to mention it was beginning to have an adverse effect on her slim, white hands.

And you've applied for one job in the last 5 days, even though you've found plenty.

Winter exhaled slowly.

She ought to feel bad about that, she was certain of that much. Somehow, her own lack of motivation failed to inspire much regret.

Nevertheless, lacking anything better to do, she rose stiffly from the soft beige carpet. The banjo was replaced on its music stand, and Winter sat down at her desk. She'd send off her resume to a couple more places before dinner. Yes. That would keep Ada happy. At least then when they all sat down to dinner, without Howard to serve as a distraction, Winter would have a favourable report to give.

Thank goodness Dad doesn't bother me at dinnertime, she sighed, waiting for her computer to boot up. I don't really see him much anyway, I 'spose.

Peter Newhall was a nurse, and worked long overnight shifts at the Mater Hospital. He loved his work, but Winter rarely saw him between his unusual hours and their concomitant reclusiveness.

Flicking between webpages, Winter hesitantly opened her email.

1 new email message from The Arda Exchange Program.

Winter's heart danced a staccato beat as she opened the email thread.

Dear Ms. Newhall,

Congratulations! Your application has been considered and you have been selected to proceed to the second stage in the selection process. You are one of twenty young Australians who have been short-listed for the Arda Exchange Program, and we are delighted to invite you to our interview stage.

The interview shall consist of a half-hour appointment with some of our leading program officers, who will discuss with you the nature of an exchange to Middle-earth and assess your suitability to spend a year's time there working in an area relating to your qualification. The interview will consider personal qualities as well as your understanding of Tolkien's legendarium to discover whether you are suitable to venture into Arda….

Winter scanned over the last part of the email, heart still beating queerly. It was signed by a Bob Griggs from the Arda Exchange Program Committee, and there was a whole paragraph with details about her interview time that she barely took in.

I made it through…

The thought left her rather stunned. She'd started researching the Arda Exchange almost as a joke, when Howard had laughingly suggested it.

"Winter, why don't you just become an Elf on that Middle-earth swap program thing now you're done uni? It'd be like your childhood dream, Win!"

He'd been half-right; it was her childhood dream, though it was more. Even Winter's grown-woman heart still loved the idea of travelling through Middle-earth in person. Two years ago, someone had snuck a camera into the program and leaked a bunch of digital photographs of the Riddermark on Tumblr. They'd received a considerable fine and a scolding from the Committee, though many wanna-be exchange students had not felt so strongly about it. The photographs were all Winter had hoped Rohan would have been.

Imagine – you could see that in person.

Not necessarily, her realist side asserted. You're on the list of twenty, but they only let in one or two from Australia every year. Your odds of getting in are pretty slim.

Still, staring at the computer screen, Winter couldn't stop her stomach twisting in excitement. Maybe it didn't matter that she hadn't applied for any other physio positions.

Well, she thought wryly, at least I'll be able to tell Mum I got a job interview.

Heya folks! Didn't think I'd be back here so soon, introducing a new fanfic... But, here we are.

For those of you who are back because you read Elanor's story, then yay! Welcome. I hope you find as much amusement and pleasure from hearing about Winter. For those of you who are trying out my writing for the first time, I'm also super excited to have you reading this! (And if you would like to read more of my writing, head on over to read My name is Elanor: Get me out of here!).

I could understand if some of you are silently chastising me for starting Winter's story when I haven't finished Elanor's. The truth is, Elanor's is wrapped up to a reasonably-solid conclusion, though it's not finished. But I haven't left you a cliff-hanger, so rest assured. Right now, I'm struggling to figure out how I can continue the Ravenscroft sisters' story arc. In the meantime, I've decide I will give you a taste of a different story; Winter's.

Winter's story is an attempt to throw a modern girl into Middle-earth, but without her "falling", per say. Winter goes voluntarily, on something I have titled the Arda Exchange Program. This is something I would dearly love to exist, where qualified professionals head into Middle-earth to use their skills and gain experience. Idealistic, I know, but interesting nevertheless. It removes the sudden "oh my goodness I'm panicking here what do I do" element that Elanor had, and I think will create a very different (but hopefully still interesting) plotline.

I would love to hear from you what you all think regarding the opening scenes of Winter's tale.

Again, this story is based around Australian characters. I've always heard to write what you know, and I know Brisbane, so that's how we're going to work it.

Thanks ya'll for reading, and please feel free to leave a review or inbox me about this (or Elanor's story).

Much appreciation,

Finwe. x