Hi all! This was just an idea I had because I was a little bored and scrolling the LOTR section and saw that there were a lot of 10th walker fanfics. I read a couple of them, and was a little disappointed that no one seemed to take the idea that the 10th walker even being there would cause changes to the story line, even if they did absolutely nothing. Yay butterfly effects!
Now admittedly, I only read a few and some of those I didn't read very far (Sue's make me cringe) so there may be another of these out there. I hope to do a good job on this story and hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters of LOTR; they were created by Tolkien and are only being borrowed by me. I will return them when I'm done . . . in nearly the same condition I found them in.
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"Y'all go on ahead," Emily said separating herself from the group. "I need to take care of something real quick. I'll meet you by the turkey legs."
Her friend, Nicole, stopped and turned. The sight of Nicole in a dress was something Emily just couldn't wrap her head around. Nicole was a tomboy through and through. In fact, Emily hadn't even known that she owned a dress until she had insisted that Emily change that morning before they left, because—apparently—it is impossible to go to a renaissance festival in normal clothing.
Her counter argument had been that with all the anachronisms already present at a Renaissance fair (one of which being the over-the-clothes corset currently being sported by Nicole) her jeans would hardly make any difference. Needless to say, that line of argument had accomplished nothing. So now, here she was in the middle of summer in a three-quarter length dress with pants under it to cover the rest of her legs.
"I can help you if you want," Nicole offered. "That way it won't take as long."
"No," Emily assured her, "this is something I need to do alone." She nudged her head towards a nearby blue box for emphasis.
"Oh," Nicole breathed as she figured out what the errand was. "I get it. See you in a bit."
Emily nodded and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead: using a port-a-john. She stepped inside, and closed the door. It was surprising how much sound that blue plastic blocked out. Maybe this won't be that bad, she thought as she attempted to find a position that kept her free from touching anything.
Once she was finished, she made sure that she was presentable, then reached for the hand-sanitizer on the wall and was disgusted to find that it was empty. She sighed. Just my luck, I would pick the one without sanitizer. Oh well, I can just check another one. She closed her eyes against the light she knew was to follow and pushed the door open. She expected to hear the door slam shut behind her, but it didn't.
Opening her eyes, she turned around and saw that the door was still slightly ajar; the lock wasn't in place and was keeping it from closing properly. She leaned forward, fixed the latch and pushed it closed disliking the idea of leaving it open.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and assumed that it was someone wanting their turn. "You might want to use a different one," she said without turning around. "This one is out of toilet paper and hand sanitizer."
"Pardon me?" A male voice replied.
"Not that I suppose you would particularly care," she said upon realizing that it was a man. From what she had heard, they didn't really care about that kind of thing.
"What are you speaking of?" the same voice asked.
Great, she thought, one of those freaks that think this is actually the Renaissance. I'll bet he's even carrying a sword. "The facilities are lacking in the realm of sanitation," she said trying to match his speech. "Or perhaps you are calling it a privy?" She turned to face him and saw that she was right. He was in costume, and he did have a sword. But from the look of it, he wore his costume more than just to the fair. It was faded, dirty and worn. She noticed that he had a tear near the shoulder on the sleeve. But it was one of the best costumes she had seen, the fabric even appeared to be hand woven.
"Nice costume," she complimented.
He looked at her like she had lost her mind. She met his grey eyes and wondered at the age she saw in them. Actually, even though he had looked young at first, the more she looked the stranger him being in costume seemed. She could see a few grey strands in with his dark hair. His gaze was actually making her uncomfortable. It seemed like he was trying to see into her soul.
"Well . . . I just get out of your way then," she said turning to walk off in the direction her friends had gone, only to realize that she was in a different place. All the booths and venders were gone. And all the people for that matter and for some reason the colors seemed brighter. She turned back to face the man that she had just been speaking to, panic beginning to well within her. Once she did, she noticed that the blue box was gone as well. All that was left was her and the strange man, alone in the middle of a forest.
"What happened?" she asked as though he would have the answer. "Where am I? How did I get here?"
"I was hoping you would be able to enlighten us in regards to that," she heard a different male voice say. She turned again, panic well and truly taking over. Behind the first man were eight more men and boys. The man who spoke was way too old to be dressing up.
"If I knew, I wouldn't've asked," she replied, her fear causing her natural sarcasm to flair.
"I feared that might be the case," the old man sighed. "Let us begin with a simple question; what is your name?"
"Emily," she answered, too confused to ask his name as politeness dictated.
"Emily," he said as though testing the name. "It is an odd name, how did you come by it?"
"It's what my parents chose to call me," she replied questioning the old man's sanity. His lips twitched in a smile as though he knew what she had thought, but didn't want to acknowledge it.
"I suppose that is how we have all acquired our names," he finally said. "Do you know how you came to be here?"
"I already said I don't," she said exasperatedly. If she had doubted his sanity before, she now knew that he was senile. "All I know is that one minute I was using the restroom at a Renaissance fair. When I left I was here. Where is here anyway?"
"Renaissance fair?" she heard one of the children ask. "What is a Renaissance fair?"
At the same time the old man said, "I think we should stop for our noon meal and sort this out." Four of the children apparently agreed with this statement and set about preparing a fire to cook. She wondered that they used flint rather than matches and watched in fascination as they started the fire.
"As to where here is," the old man said with a gentle smile, "I suppose I should be the first to welcome you to Middle Earth, Emily."
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Some time later, after they had eaten and continued the relentless and circuitous question-answer game they had been playing, Emily realized that they were all nuts. Slowly they had all introduced themselves and she realized that she must have fallen in with a RPG group. They had all given names straight out of Lord of the Rings. The old man—Gandalf—had explained that they were traveling and were a good deal away from anything, but it had been a while since he had spoken. Instead he had been staring into the dying fire and muttering to himself in a language that Emily couldn't understand.
Finally, he heaved a sigh and turned to face her looking older than he had moments before. "I can see no other solution to our current situation. You must accompany us on our journey, for now," Gandalf said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Impossible," one of the men—Boromir—said incredulously. "You cannot seriously be considering allowing her to travel with us, Gandalf. It is folly."
"I agree with the man," the man calling himself Gimli added. "She could be an agent of Sauron."
"You would dare to say that?" the one calling himself Legolas demanded. "A member of my kindred, a spy? I think not!"
His kindred? What the hell was he talking about? He claimed to be an elf and she was most assuredly human the last time she had checked. "What do you mean 'your kindred'?" she asked.
But her question was ignored because at the same time both Boromir and Gimli had retorted angrily. "Is it impossible that an elf work with the Dark Lord?" Boromir asked as Gimli snorted, "That fact only increases my suspicion of her."
"Enough!" Gandalf said, his voice filled with power enough that even Emily felt herself cowering. "I will hear no more on the matter. Elrond appointed me to guide you and my heart tells me that she has a part to play in this before the end. She will travel with us, but we will keep the nature of our quest a secret for now." He looked directly at one of the children—hobbits—as he said that last line and Emily noticed that the hobbit fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare.
"I really don't have to," Emily said quietly. "I can tell that they don't want me to come with y'all. I don't want to cause problems." She was halfway hoping that they would agree that it was best for her to leave, they seemed like they were at least a half bubble off plumb and she didn't want to be there when the crazy got the best of them.
"I am afraid that you do, my dear," Gandalf said gently. "It is the only way that I can, perhaps, curtail the damage that you are going to do here." She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued talking. "It is apparent to me that you do not belong in this time. From whence you came, I am unsure. I am also unsure why you are here, but I am certain that you must not be allowed to wander freely in our world for fear of you destroying it."
"but—" she began only to be cut off by the soft voice of Aragorn.
"I feel that, for now, we must trust the instincts of Gandalf," he gave her an apologetic smile. "He is seldom wrong. Besides, it is unwise for you to wander alone in such dangerous country without an escort."
She sighed, which they took as the sign of agreement that it was. She knew they were right; she was lost and had no way of getting un-lost other than following them. Oh joy, she thought sarcastically. Now I get to wander aimlessly in the woods with a bunch of lunatics. This sounds like a great plan . . . not.
Little did she know that they were all thinking similar things about her. Boromir, in particular did not relish the idea of spending time in the presence of a strange female elf, spy or not. Having the one was bad enough. That was one point that he and the dwarf could agree on. There was no love lost between the man of Gondor and the elves, though he had no real experience with them other than the council of Elrond, there were stories. . . strange tales about the powers of the elves, especially she-elves. This quest was rapidly becoming more trying.
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There we go y'all, first chapter. What do you think? Loved it? Hated it? Think I need to continue? Delete it? Let me know.
(And to anyone who might be here from my Vk fic, I promise that I will keep updating that one too, but this was actually getting in the way.)
Also, before it even happens, I know that there are some people out there who scroll the archives with the express intent of finding stories with OC's and harassing the authors. I won't ask that no one tell me that I have created a Sue (though I don't believe I have). All I will ask is that if you feel that Emily is a Sue, tell me why so that I can improve her character and remedy the problem. Or, what the hell, flame away :) it is not fair of me to only ask for people who like it to review and often the negative review are some of the most helpful.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it and I hope to hear your opinions soon,
Stickdonkeys