The Laundry of the Fellowship

A/N: I swore I'd never write a Mary Sue. And now look at me. A broken, pathetic writer whose friends conned her into 'getting thrown into Middle-earth'. If it weren't for the fact that they're blackmailing me with chocolate…

A few notes on this story. As mentioned before, this was NOT my idea. I have read the books, but most people find them a bit longwinded. And it would be hell to type. So we're using the movie dialogue. Everyone cheer! I am putting in some of the more important book elements (such as the fact that getting to Rivendell does not take only one day). This is a blatant Mary Sue, yes. But I'm hoping you can forgive that once you see the stuff they make me do… eww. Washing clothes.

**

Yes, there I was, reading fanfiction, wondering who wrote this crap about "Eludriel, who had eyes like the sunset and the ocean and Made Legolas swoon." For goodness' sake, they didn't even use the correct capitalization! I mean, I don't Make people do anything, do I? I usually make them do something… and I don't think my looks would ever make an elf swoon…

I exited the browser in disgust, imagining the reactions I would get from the Fellowship if I ever fell into Rivendell. I wouldn't be welcomed with open arms if it were anything close to the real thing. In fact, I'd be lucky to survive… maybe they were partial to whimpering little girls?

Nah. I'd be killed.

I took a casual look at my computer clock then and nearly screamed in panic. It was currently four thirty six in the morning exactly.

Mom was going to kill me before anyone else did.

I ran to my bed hurriedly, turning off lights as I went and pushing my very fat, very lazy cat from the bed. It blinked at me hazily before curling up on the floor where it had been thrown and immediately going back to its dreams of dead mice. Yeah sure. If Jerry ever caught a mouse, I would die of shock. Hence the name, of course. He had the heart of a mouse… a very lazy mouse…

I was beginning to think incoherently. A good sign of falling asleep. Of course, as soon as I thought this, I was once more awake. And I realized that the screen was still on.

I leapt from my bed with a hiss of growing fear and switched it off, then fumbled around in the darkness for my comfy haven.

It didn't seem to be where I had left it. In fact, I was sure it was somewhere around…

Suddenly, and quite painfully, I was falling. Well, it wasn't exactly the falling part that was painful, of course; it was the landing. It hit me somewhere in that fuzzed and sleep-deprived mind of mine that this was the way the world got back at me for not listening to curfew. I knew I was going to end up in Middle Earth… and that it would not be fun.

Would you care to hazard where I landed? In Legolas' lap during the council? No, silly, that would be a bit overdone. The man in charge of the cosmos has a much better sense of humor, and is much more creative. In point of fact, I landed right on my face, smack dab in the middle of Strider's wonderful speech about how Frodo was supposed to be careful with that evil ring of his. Clarification: a room in the inn in Bree. I had a sword at my throat immediately. Hey, you appear out of thin air, and even rangers get spooked. Frodo was looking at me strangely, like someone who had just seen too much to be surprised anymore.

And, to top it all off, on cue, the hobbit brigade had arrived. "Let him go, or I'll have you…" Sam stopped talking when he saw the scene. "Oh."

"Now look, I can explain this!" I said, gulping at the very sharp sword. Strider raised an eyebrow and waited, looking much more dangerous than I'd ever imagined he might be. And all of that ranger deadliness was pointed at my throat.

"Okay… maybe I can't. But I swear it's not my fault!" There seemed to be room wide confusion at that point. The hobbits decided then to ignore me and run to Frodo.

"Are you okay, Frodo? You hurt? What happened?" Frodo looked rather resigned to the fact that his life was officially… weird to say the least.

Strider threw me to the floor, a bit more roughly than necessary I would say, and closed the door. "You're going to tell me everything now," he ordered. "I didn't see you among the roof beams, but that doesn't excuse the fact that you were eavesdropping." I nearly sighed in relief, but quashed the urge. It could look suspicious.

Still, what do you say to that?

My delirious mind, which was not working well at all what with being awake for much too long and being in fear of death, did not come up with a very good lie. "I… ah… thought the room was mine. My knitting thread got tangled in the rafters, so I went to get it…"

No one looked impressed. Think, more plausible, but not get me killed plausible…

"Okay, okay, you guys looked interesting, and Mr. Underhill disappearing spooked me. I wanted to know what was going on." Not bad for spur of the moment.

"I didn't see you down there," said Pippin, confused and a bit woozy from his drinking. Bad hobbit. You don't discount the perfectly plausible story!

"Well obviously I wasn't down there. I was just going up the stairs, in fact." 'Strider' was getting angry. It's not fun to have a ranger angry at you, you know, as they're quite scary that way.

"You'll have to come up with a few better lies," he told me in a soft voice, which spoke volumes more than what he'd said. "I had been in that room for quite some time before 'Mr. Underhill' arrived." Oh god. Someone up there was laughing their pants off. Assuming they wore pants… oh yes, you know you're panicking when you're wondering if the creator wears pants. I tried the straight and narrow approach.

"I'm from another world, or possibly another time. I was sent here by some higher entity as a cruel joke." Again with the rough floor throwing. Ow.

"If you're not going to tell me the truth, you forfeit your life. Now talk." Sam, ever the compassionate, naive hobbit, spoke out then.

"Hey now, no need for that! She's not even armed!" It was odd and a bit scary knowing that a hobbit half my size was my only hope of survival at this point.

"Y-yeah, I've never even touched anything pointy! It's not like I'm going to tell anyone! You can trust me!" I put on my most convincing little girl smile. I'm a bit young looking for my age. With any luck…

"Somehow, I doubt it." Of course, it was then that I'd noticed that I wasn't in my normal clothes. At least I'd gotten that break. Instead of the oversized shirt I had been wearing to bed, I was clad in breeches and a tunic. The relief at not having to explain that part quickly disintegrated when I realized that I had a utility dagger at my belt. This was pulled out by Strider, who narrowed his eyes and turned back to Frodo.

"We need to move. This room is no longer safe, as Butterburr has it registered to four hobbits. We'll move to my room for the night." He looked at me as if I were a cockroach he were carrying outside the house on a paper towel. He just didn't seem to like me.

"She'll need to be guarded. One of you make sure she doesn't have any other weapons on her." The suspicion in the hobbits' eyes nearly made me gag. When you're eyed like that by people who look like kids, you know you've done something terribly wrong.

On our way down, Butterburr came rushing up to Frodo, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. "Almost forgot, Mr. Underhill, a letter that Mr. Gandalf left for you." The contents confirmed Strider's trustworthiness, but most assuredly not mine. It also mentioned a poem and his real name, which I obviously had known the whole time.

"All that is gold does not glitter?" I quipped with a shaky smile. "That referring to you?" The answering glare was enough to shut me up the rest of the way to Aragorn's room.

**

A frustrated scream interrupted my uneasy sleep. I struggled to sit up, being tied hand and foot. A jolt of fear went through me, as I knew better than anyone in the room, except perhaps Aragorn, what danger we were in.

"They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring… they will never stop hunting you." Feeling the chill quite suddenly, and not realizing that I'd once again heard something I shouldn't have, I asked,

"Can I have a blanket?"

There was a groan from a corner of the room, and one of the hobbits, couldn't tell which, threw a blanket at me. Probably to shut me up. It was amazing, the most terrible sound I've ever heard in my life, and the hobbits just want to sleep. I shook my head, ignored the glares that came at me from every angle, and attempted to get the blanket settled without using my hands. It was quite a feat. Actually, after about a minute of tossing, Frodo settled it for me. Wonderful people, really. I wondered what the journey would be like. Were they going to tie me up again and throw me on a horse? What if it rained? Was I going to be fed at all?

Oh yes, that was right, the horses were going to be stolen! At least it was a safe bet that Aragorn wasn't going to toss me over a shoulder. He was already looking at me like a bug again.

There's a fact you can count on almost all of the time: rangers do not trust easily. Especially this one. Well, the fact that I'd been apparently eavesdropping didn't help the matter at all. The others, trusting him because of Gandalf's letter (well, sort of – he had better credentials than me because mine were a confiscated utility knife and a bad lie), had decided that he was quite a knowledgeable person and that his perception of me was correct. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't I technically have been the most knowledgeable person in the group at the moment, seeing as I knew what was going to happen? This comforted me to some extent. When they found that the horses had been stolen in the morning, I was feeling much more satisfied with Middle-earth.

**

I was allowed to use my feet on the way to Weathertop, but at all times that ranger was near. He was like a watchdog. I wanted to growl in frustration, for despite the Nazgûl, I still wanted to be a part of the adventure. After all, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Why in the world should I want to run off?

While I was walking, no one talked to me. It was a bit lonely, but I amused myself by wondering how I was speaking Westron, and if I might be able to read the writing. Could I speak elvish at all? Would I understand it if I heard it?

When we reached the old outpost, I had regained my sense of foreboding. When Aragorn found the runes, telling us that Gandalf had been here three days before and in much danger, I remembered why I might be feeling that.

Choices, choices. Tell them about the Ringwraiths? No, that would be inviting disaster. Instead, I referred to the scorch marks with trepidation.

"You know, if this wizard was in danger, doesn't that suggest something very powerful? I mean, shouldn't we get a move on?" Another look of distaste.

"Whatever it was, it is most likely gone. We will just have to stay on our toes." The hobbits, however, were finally starting to agree with me.

"I think she has a bit of a point. It wouldn't be that terrible to walk on a little longer, would it?" Their love of rest and food was countered by the idea of the very real danger. Frodo shook his head at the rest of them.

"We have swords, even magical swords. We should be fine." As the fact was brought to my attention that my only protection, a normal utility knife, was held by Aragorn, and I was tied so that running wouldn't work very well, a bit of my mind, the voice of self-preservation, ran and huddled in a corner.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I don't happen to have any magical swords. I'm also effectively hobbled. Could we rectify that? I mean, there's really not much food around, I couldn't find my way in a forest if someone pointed. I'm not going to run off." I tried to look sincere. Not very hard when you are sincere.

"Fine." The ranger sighed and took away the ropes on my wrists as well as the ones limiting my foot movement to a brisk walk. "I'll scout for danger if it will make you happy." I was about to say that no, I knew there was danger and if he were nearby I would feel much safer, but that would be idiocy. "Night is coming, you can help set up camp."

With that, Aragorn left us to break out the bedrolls and the food. I was particularly hungry, having to expend more energy than the others as I was walking with shorter and jerkier steps. I'd also always hated hiking. Honestly, the longest hike I'd ever been on was ten miles in one day, and that was with rest and food in between. And lots of complaining. Although, I didn't dare complain with Aragorn nearby.

"Ah… do you think I might have a bit of that?" I asked Merry hopefully.

The halfling blinked. I hadn't really addressed any of the hobbits before.

"I suppose so." He gave me a bit of trail rations. The food was terrible, especially as I was a picky eater. But who was complaining? It was food. If the hobbits could eat it, so could I. I attempted to strike up a conversation. Not easy under the circumstances, but hobbits were normally a nice crowd.

"So, we're going to Rivendell, are we?" I asked lamely. "I've heard it's interesting…" Nope, not the most intelligent starter.

"Ah… yes?" Pippin tried.

Frodo, the oldest of them all, raised an eyebrow. "We may as well not beat around the bush. Why were you eavesdropping?"

"Wasn't eavesdropping," I murmured irritably. "Aragorn made that assumption all on his own." The hobbit blinked.

"What else would you be doing up in the rafters?" he asked.

I sighed. "Okay, one of the stories I told was the truth. I'll give you three guesses which."

Sam scratched his head. "You were knitting?"

"No," I growled.

Frodo sighed. "I'm afraid that only one of those was plausible, and Aragorn confirmed that you weren't downstairs." I wanted to roll my eyes. This was Middle-earth for goodness' sake. And they doubted that I'd come from another world?

"Oh come on, do I look creative enough to make anything up?" I asked. "I swear, for following a wizard's trail you certainly don't have much faith in the unexplainable." There was a heavy silence. It carried on until it was well past nightfall and Aragorn had checked back once.

Knowing what was about to happen, I readied myself. No fear. They're after the ring, right? That wasn't really a comfort. While I wasn't in very good standing with Frodo at the moment, knowing he was going to be stabbed didn't make me feel better at all.

The unearthly screams that echoed through the night made me certain that I should've spoken up, no matter the consequences. The four hobbits stiffened, and drew their blades. I was wishing dearly for that small utility knife. Or anything, for that matter. I tried to quell the fear with math equations, which always made my blood pump more sluggishly. Practice… the hobbits didn't have time to look at me strangely as I chanted my equations of area, circles, x's, y's, donuts… it quickly turned into a praise of everyday life.

We retreated to the other side of the hill, but the dark riders had it surrounded. Sam was the first to attempt to defend his master, of course, and he stepped up to the responsibility admirably considering that he was shaking uncontrollably. "You'll not have him!" he yelled at the riders. I swallowed as one of the dark swathed figures gave a raspy laugh and swatted him aside as easily as a rag doll.

Merry and Pippin were the next, and I almost couldn't bear to watch. I might not have been able to except that the black riders held my gaze in a morbidly fascinating kind of way. Though they were fearful and their appearance spoke of torturous things to come, I could not look away from their dark magnificence.

The two brave hobbits let loose a somehow smothered battle cry that did not travel more than a few feet from them. I was amazed by their strength of will and determination. How could they move at all under these piercing gazes?

My odd mantra of 'I wish I had some chocolate' had worked until we'd actually seen the Nazgûl, at which point it had all fled my brain and trailed off into nothingness. I realized that I would be foolish to simply stand there, and a coward too, but what could I do?

Merry was seized roughly by the hair even as he flailed uselessly with his weapon. I stood, entranced, as his small form flew by me, missing my head by inches. Pippin cried out in fear, but stood strong in front of Frodo, who was fumbling inside his tunic for something, his eyes wide with some terrible emotion. The youngest hobbit was ruthlessly kicked in the ribs by a metal plated boot, and Pippin didn't even have the time to cry out in pain before he hit the ground and ceased all movement.

I was alone with the ring bearer, who was now giving every ounce of himself to fighting the artifact's power over him.

What could I do?

I snapped from my stupor as the wraiths swept closer, their wicked blades held before them, shining with some unearthly fey light. My fear overcame my awe in that moment, but I knew that I couldn't run away. Not only would I be hunted down… but that would make me a coward of the worst kind

I ran for Sam's unconscious form, searching blindly for the sword he had brandished so courageously. My hand closed on the blade, and I pulled back with a hiss before seizing the hilt.

I'd taken fencing… but it wouldn't help a bit. Fencing was a nobleman's sport, not for fighting with the dead. The sword was all wrong for it, and I had a sneaking suspicion that if I tried it I would get myself killed, as my stance had never been that good in the first place.

So, of course, as only one of the things broke away to dispose of the last and most useless defender, I brought up the sword before my face, needing to feel as though there were something between that dreadful apparition and me.

There was a jolt of force as I barely managed to lift the thing in time, and I was suddenly flying through midair. Next was a sickening thud, which I assumed was me hitting a tree. I wasn't quite sure, because before I could feel any pain, I mercifully blacked out and missed the next part.