This chapter is the summary and some good background information to have about why I'm writing it, and such. Just covering what I think might be some FAQs
This is a story about a girl, Malia Reed, falling into the hobbit world. Don't even get me started on how overdone it is, I know it is. But I love it anyways.
I haven't read many of these though, because I don't like how the OCs have little practical skill, or freak out over not bathing. I wanted someone who fits better in Middle-Earth, and feels as though she's finally coming home. She has a very basic idea of the Hobbits movies, but otherwise, is perfectly clueless.
The Name: I chose it based off of Malia Tate in Teen Wolf. The name Malia means, 'Rough Waters' or something of that caliber, which suits my character perfectly. She's strong, brave, and sometimes, an utter idiot.

Without further ado, here is the summary. While the whole story has technically been written, I'm working on making it longer. And editing it. But this story is my child and I love it and if you do not, that's fine, you're free to go. Have a nice day.

My journey began on October 31st, on my 23rd birthday. At that point in time, I was living with my dad. A man whom I had thought was the most painfully boring person in the world.

My father, Rickon Reed was very much a "One foot in a pair of pants first." You know, the careful, tactical sort.

Let me tell you, he did not deserve a name like Rickon. If anything, he deserved what all his friends called him, Rick, Ricky, Richard.

I was nearly the opposite. My middle name should've been anxiety-inducing, because most of my childhood I nearly gave my dad a heart attack.

My mother Mira, on the other hand was a lot like me. Always wanting an adventure, always ready to teach me something that was debatably unorthodox. Like archery to a five year old.

Anyways, that day; my 23rd birthday, I had been furious at my dad.

It was nearly 10th year anniversary of my mother's disappearance, and he still refused to mourn for her. I mean, by now, everyone assumed she was dead. Who disappears for that long, without any leads to whereabouts?

"She'll be back, I'm sure of it." He said dismissively as he scooped out a pumpkin with his bare hands.

Which was just about the most edgy thing he had done in years.

My father had driven me insane as he insisted she would somehow come back. He never said why he thought she would. He just thought she would.

Don't even get me started on the weird hushed talks my family would have about my father. Something had happened before I was born, and they had nearly forsaken him.

Instead my dad let me wonder where my mother could've gone, and why. Why would she have left without a word? Why were there so many dumb secrets in this family?

I had stormed out on him, running out into the yard barefooted. I had a bad habit of foregoing shoes, and he always scolded me about it. I hadn't even grabbed my phone, or anything.

I continued on, into the forest.

When I was younger, my mother had always taken me to the forest on my birthday. We'd pretend we were in a different world, and she'd always point of a very peculiar tree. It was a special tree, a magical tree, she had told me.

I wasn't supposed to go near it. The tree that could change my world.

But that day, I did anyways. Being leant up near that tree made me feel almost as though my mother was somehow still here.

How I had managed to fall asleep was beyond me, but it was the waking that changed my world. Literally.