Disclaimer: I don't own 'Lord of the Rings'; Mythri, however, is mine, as is her history, her family, and pretty much everything else about her. Good rule to follow: if you find an OC in this story, it probably belongs to me, if it doesn't, I'll let you know.
(A/N): Just to let you know, Sajja is the name of Mythri's father.
Mythri yawned; here she was in the middle of nowhere, looking for adventure. None was being particularly forthcoming. She knew there was, or was going to to be, some, somewhere; but as for there and then, nothing was coming her way. She knew this world would have some; she, after all, was a Watcher, and Watchers aren't sent places to do nothing.
Crack
She jumped. Who, or what, made that sound? She looked around, relying on her instincts as a Watcher. She could tell it wasn't friendly, but other than that it was a bit hard to pinpoint. Definitly not too much trouble, she decided. She looked in her sack; her father always packed a weapon in her sack. Oh-no, this might be harder than she thought, all her father sent with her, was a sword.
Now, I'm sure you're all saying, 'Wait, a sword is a great weapon!' but that is because you haven't tried to swing one around. They're big and heavy, and you really should get some practice first.
"You might as well come on out," she said, drawing the accursed blade. "I know you're in there."
Some sort of cackling laughter was the only answer she got. She realized, immediatly, that there were plenty more than one. She also realized that they were quite fluent with medieval weaponry; it just sort of went with the voice. Nobody laughed that way when they aren't sure of themselves, and sajja would only send the best possible weaponry (of whatever world she went to) with her. That meant that they were better at this than she was, and they had her outnumbered... Drat. How did she get into these situations, again? Oh, right, her fathers the keeper.
"Come on," she said, forcing herself to look intimidating. "I wouldn't keep me waiting if I were you."
Out of the bushes, stepped the ugliest thing Mythri had ever seen. It had beady, little eyes; greyish skin; a nose, that looked like it had been run through a blender; a few disgusting strands of hair, sticking out from its helmet; and don't even get started on its mouth. It was shorter than her, about four and a half feet, she guessed, bowlegged, slimy, smelly, and had a vile habit of licking its lips, it seemed. Its fourteen companins didn't look much better... Actually, they looked worse.
If she'd had any other weapon, she would have knocked thier stupid, ugly blocks off; as it was, she raised her sword, and wished for luck... A lot of luck.
Then the things drew their weapons; all filthy fifteen of them, only to reveal that they were armad with what looked like oversized kitchen utinsils. Then they all started roaring, with glee, as they gloated over their apparent victim... namely, Mythri.
"Get 'er!" said Lip-Licker, who seemed to be their leader, brandishing a large fork.
Mythri wished she could use her magic, but that she couldn't; she could only use her powers to protect another, it was one of the few limitations she had as a Watcher. She made wide arc, with the sword, wishing, for all she was worth, that she could have some help. She made another sweep, this time managing to knock one out. This made the other fourteen all the angrier, which didnt help, at all.
She felt hoof beats in the earth; someone was coming. They were coming at a gallop; they would be there soon. It was only one rider, she now learned, as she slashed through another of the vile creatures. Male too, she decided, as she whirled about to parry a blow aimed at her upper back. Talk about back-stabbers. The rider was coming unusually fast, she noted as she paused, just long enough to see a white streak on the horizon. It was also just long enough, to get stabbed in the shoulder, by one of the things. That hurt.
She whirled to kill the culprit, but found, to her surprise, that they were all running away. Then she noticed the magical aura behind her.. She whipped around, to find what looked like an old man, behind her, astride a great horse. The magic she felt in him, was of course, enough to prove he wasn't human; but that still left the question of what he was.
"Who are you?" she asked, having found strait-forwardness to have worked on more than one occasion.
"I have many names," said the rider. "Supose you tell me your's."
"I asked first... but I guess, if you'll agree to tell me your's, I can tell you mine."
"Very well."
"My name is Mythri."
"Mithrandir," said the rider.
"Mithrandir..." she mulled over the name; she still didn't know who he was. "I have another question."
"Oh?" said Mithrandir, bunching hie eyebrows impatiently.
Mythri noted his impatience, and altered her question accordingly, "Where are you going?"
Mithrandir looked at her for a long moment, before asking, "Why do you ask?"
"Because, I can get you there, faster than you can on your own."
"I need to find a hobbit," he said, after a very long pause. "His name is Frodo, and he either is, or is very soon to be, in a great deal of trouble."
"I see," said Mythri, beginning to focus her mind into a search for someone matching the discription. Suddenly, her mind hit it. "Short guy, with dark hair, and blue eyes?"
"That sounds like him, yes."
"Than you were right about the trouble," she said. "Come on."
Alright, that's it for chapter one. I know it's short, but I'll give you more if you review. Thanks for reading!
~Princess Arimae
