Chapter 1: Character Select
When Quinn Fleming came to, she wondered why her spine was still intact, and why the hospital room looked so weird.
The walls were painted a creamy gold, and the arching ceilings a soft white. There were no monitors, no IV drip. Quinn sat up. The bed was way too big to be for a hospital room.
Okay, maybe she wasn't in a hospital. Maybe they'd put her in an asylum for almost-dying in such a dumbass way.
The door opened, and a man walked in. He wore long green robes embroidered with gold thread and his long, dark hair was held in place by a silver circlet. Upon seeing her awake, his eyes widened slightly and he approached the bed.
"Greetings, ancient warrior. I trust you are well-rested?" He put one hand on his chest and inclined his head.
Nope. She wasn't in a hospital or an asylum. She'd been kidnapped by a fucking cult leader.
"Where am I?" Quinn asked, then cleared her throat. Her voice sounded deeper than usual.
"You are in Rivendell, an elven realm in the valley of Imladris. I am Lord Elrond, guardian of this house."
She had never heard of a place called Rivendell, or a valley called Imladris. Was she still in California?
Before she could ask him to clarify, another man walked in. He was not in keeping with the pristine aesthetic of the room and Cult Leader Elrond, with his unruly beard and gray robes that looked really itchy.
But she knew him. Quinn pointed at the man. "Gandalf?"
He grinned. "Ah, I am glad to see you recognize me, old friend. It has been many years since last we met."
Okay, so these people were Lord of the Rings fans. She'd never read the books (boring) or watched the movies (long) but she'd recognize the pointy gray hat the same way anyone would recognize Superman's S or Spock's weird haircut. That was something familiar, at least, but she didn't get why the old guy was acting like they'd met before.
She could play along for now, and hope they didn't decide to chop her arms off or dump her in a barrel of perchloric acid. "My memory is...foggy. I…" What was the medieval way to say, Can you give me a quick rundown on what the fuck is going on?
"You are Belekur, one of the ancient warriors of old. You have been summoned to Middle Earth to defend and protect its free peoples," Gandalf said patiently, as though he'd done this before.
Maybe this was his routine for indoctrinating new cult members. Maybe, a few rooms down, some guy dressed as Batman was telling another NDE survivor that they were Gilgamesh, the legendary hero.
She needed to find a phone and call the police. "I need some time to...meditate. And regain my warrior strength. Perhaps my thoughts will be clearer then."
"Of course. We will leave you in peace." Gandalf turned to go. Lord Elrond inclined his head again and followed him out of the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Quinn pushed the covers aside and stood up. She was wearing a thin white gown, and none of her stuff was anywhere to be found. They'd probably taken her phone, along with the selfie stick and the hoverboard she'd also had when she'd…
It was probably best not to think about that. Quinn winced and rubbed the back of her neck...and froze. Tangled between her fingers were long strands of thick, dark hair—about a foot longer than she was used to having it.
"Oh my god, was I in a coma?"
Was this a Captain America situation, where she'd been in suspended animation for sixty years, only to wake up in a futuristic world where everyone dressed up like fantasy characters?
Quinn Fleming, you've been recruited into the Medieval Avengers Initiative. Code Name: Bekeldorf.
She padded her way to the door and leaned close to check if the two men were gone yet. In fact, they were not—she could hear Gandalf's voice on the other side.
"This is clearly a sign. Belekur's appearance and the arrival of Thorin's Company in Rivendell cannot be a coincidence."
"The ancient warriors have only ever appeared in times of chaos or danger, I will grant you that," Elrond said. "But if this danger is Smaug, as you claim, Belekur should have appeared two hundred years ago, when the dragon first attacked Erebor."
"It is not only Smaug," Gandalf said. "Trolls have come down from the mountains. Orcs have attacked us along the Great East Road. Darkness is encroaching upon these lands, and I believe the reclamation of Erebor is the key to restoring peace."
"It is a risky move, Gandalf. But if Belekur chooses to join your quest, then it is out of my hands."
Their voices began to fade as they walked away. Quinn leaned against the door and sighed. Either these people were really dedicated to their D&D roleplay to come up with weird dialogues about dragons and trolls, or they really believed they were in a world where those things existed. She was leaning towards a third option: cult lord and wizard man were both batshit.
She'd have to find a phone, or a smoke signal, or whatever the hell they used here, and get help. Quinn opened the door a crack, peeking through. The hallway was empty.
She crept out and closed the door behind her, then started walking down the hallway. The thin fabric of her gown rustled lightly as she moved, making her feel like a patient escaping a creepy hospital, Outlast style.
The hallway opened up into an outdoor walkway, and Quinn felt her mouth drop open. The place was a lot bigger than she'd expected, and looked sort of like a meditation retreat—all open courtyards and waterfalls and archways. But she'd barely taken that in before her focus was drawn to what was beyond the buildings.
She actually was in a valley. A sea of green and orange-leaved trees covered the bottom, and several waterfalls cascaded down the sides. The whole view was more than a little surreal. If she lived in a place like this, she might start thinking she was in a fantasy world too.
Quinn began walking, eyes wide with wonder as she took in her surroundings. Whoever had built this place had done an awesome job of making it look magical. It was a little like Disneyland, minus the screaming kids and sweaty actors dressed like Mickey Mouse.
The air smelled a lot cleaner, too. It reminded her of all the times she would step outside for a breath of fresh air after spending hours locked in her office editing videos.
Eventually, she found herself back indoors, in a large, book-filled room she guessed was supposed to be a library. There were no phones in sight, or even electric lights.
That was a little weird, but maybe these people had an Amish thing going on. She'd have to find the nearest road, then, and follow it back to actual civilization. There was no way this whole place had been built all the way out in the middle of a damn valley without a road to bring in construction materials.
"Ah, Belekur."
Quinn spun around, eyes wide. Elrond was approaching her, a sword held in one hand and a bundle in the other. Her gaze zeroed in on the long, pointy object. Oh, god. This is the end.
"I came to deliver these to you. Your sword, Thannas, and your armor." He handed the blade to her, then the armor.
Wasn't that the purple guy from Avengers? Quinn tentatively accepted the objects. So he wasn't going to stab her, which was a plus, but she had a dozen more questions now. Did he actually think she was some ancient warrior? Why was she able to hold a bunch of metal like it was plastic?
"I don't understand—" Quinn was only able to get out those three words before another man rushed into the room, looking flustered.
"My lord Elrond. It is the dwarves, they are…" A chorus of shouting followed by a resounding crash sounded from somewhere nearby. The guy winced.
"Are...we being invaded?" Quinn asked. They were really going all out.
"No," Elrond said, wearing a grimace that was more annoyed than distressed. "However, I must attend to this...issue. When I return, I will explain everything." The two hurried out of the room.
"Yeah, an explanation would be nice," Quinn said to herself, looking down at the weapon in her hand. She held it up to eye level. "Is this thing real?"
At least she had some actual clothes now. Quinn decided to find somewhere to change, so she wasn't walking around looking like the girl from The Ring. She left the library room, heading in the opposite direction from whatever the hell was going on with the dwarves.
She ran into a woman in one of the outdoor hallways. "Uh, do you know where the bathroom is?"
The woman gave her a graceful smile and nodded. "This way."
Quinn followed her, still awkwardly holding her sword and armor. She'd noticed that all the people here were unnaturally beautiful and had freakishly clear skin, which supported her cult theory. That, or this was just one huge prom dress shop and she hadn't found any of the clothing yet.
The woman led her to another hallway with rows of doors. "Here you are."
"Thanks." Quinn chose a random door and tucked her sword under her arm so she could turn the handle.
For a cult headquarters/brainwashing facility/prom dress shop, this place (what had Gandalf called it? Rivendell?) had some nice bathrooms. The room was about the size of the one she'd woken up in and had a toilet, a sink, a mirror and a hot tub-sized bath.
Quinn closed the door and set her armor bundle on the floor. She would get changed in a minute, but the big sharp thing in her hand drew her curiosity. Slowly, she slid the sword from its sheath. Both the scabbard and the handle were black with curvy silver designs. The blade was long, but lighter than she'd expected.
She swung it around a couple times, and then a little harder, so she could hear the air whistle as the blade moved.
"Badass." It would have made a great video—just a silly short of her swinging a sword, acting out a dumb sketch for her viewers. The thought gave her a little jolt back into reality. How long had it been since she'd last uploaded?
Quinn marched towards the mirror, sword still in hand. Besides her hair, how much else had changed?
As soon as she came into view of the glass, the blade slipped from her grasp, clanging hard against the tile floor.
A lot had changed, apparently.
A silent curse fell from her lips—unfamiliar, bow-shaped lips—as she stared into the mirror, unable to believe what she was seeing.
Waking up from what should have been a fatal injury, ending up in a weird fantasy city, being called an ancient warrior—she could handle all of that, mostly. But this new development here was where she drew the line.
Quinn Fleming was in the wrong body.
Apologies for how short this chapter is. The next ones will definitely be longer.
And I am certainly open to theories about what Quinn was doing with a selfie stick and a hoverboard when she died ;) Also, I don't know about the places you guys shop for prom dresses, but the one I go to seems to exclusively hire freakishly beautiful people. Just one of many little phenomenons in everyday life.
Thanks to everyone who read this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it! If you want to see what happens next, please drop a comment to let me know. Until next time!