Cross the Chessboard
Emma Rogers had never been one to stand out of a crowd. She kept her head down and worked hard, doing her best to be a good and respectable person. So when her whole world is traded for one she had only seen in movies, she quickly realizes that she's a very small pawn on a very large chessboard. If she can make it to the other side, maybe...maybe she can make sure they all live...
Chapter One
It was a normal day. She had woken up, gotten ready and gone to work. Later, she had her lunch, went back to working at her computer and the afternoon ticked by while it rained for the last few hours of her shift like it always did during the rainy season. She had decided to stay a bit later to finish up her report so that it wouldn't be hanging over her head the next day. Not to mention that it was nice to enjoy a quiet office without the phones ringing and the constant chatter. When she saved her work and sent it off in an email to the next person so to be processed, she tossed her cross body bag on, turned off the lights, and locked the door behind her.
A normal Tuesday.
She didn't even worry about the fact that it was dark outside already, her own thoughts busy with ideas of what to do for dinner, check her bank account app to debate if she could stop by the gas station or if she could make it another day when her paycheck processed—
Suddenly it was daytime.
Flinching at the abrupt change, it took her a moment to realize that she was lying flat on her back, looking up at a beautiful blue sky dotted with perfectly white clouds.
What…?
Carefully pushing herself up, she didn't feel any aches or pains. That was certainly a good sign. Her fingers closed around blades of grass and she slowly took in her surroundings, the sight of lush rolling green hills registering. It was all so beautiful, the sheer richness of color stole her breath away. It had been so long since she was out in the countryside—
"Quite an odd place to sleep, if I do say so."
At the sudden voice she couldn't help but flinch terribly, half turning around and half scrambling to her feet only to fall promptly onto her backside with a small yelp.
"My apologies. I did not mean to startle you," came the kind voice again.
Doing her best to try to ignore her embarrassment, she looked up to see an elderly man with a tall walking stick, dressed in grey…robes? Which was a look complete with a pointed grey hat.
Her eyebrows came together in confusion at the first thought that came to mind.
"Gandalf?"
The old man's eyebrows rose in response. "Why yes. Have we met before?"
She couldn't help but cringe at her own nerd-outburst.
"Oh, no—I mean, I know what character you're dressed up as, but—um," she inhaled with a sharp hiss at the abrupt headache, bringing a hand to her temple.
"Are you all right, miss?"
"Y-yeah. Um, sorry if this is a dumb question," she began, squeezing her eyes shut for second to shove the ache aside, "but—where—where are we?"
"Why we are just a short walk away from the Shire," the man informed her easily. She blinked in response, confused.
"The Shire—? Oh, you don't have to stay in character, really, I won't tell anyone," she promised, pushing herself upright. Only to trip and fall straight back down, much to her surprise. "The hell?"
"Here, allow me," said "Gandalf", offering his hand. Since she couldn't seem to figure out how to stand on her own, she gratefully accepted the help.
"Thank you. First day with the new feet apparently," she tried to joke. When she was standing upright, her uneasy smile quickly fell away as she had to crane her neck to look up at the stranger. She was only as tall as the man's waist which was absolutely a first for her since she was quite tall herself at five foot ten inches. By god she felt like a child next to him.
"Whoa—just how tall are you, guy?" she couldn't help but ask. "I'm sure you get that a lot but—wow." She tried to take a step back and nearly fell over again. Huffing, annoyed at herself now, she looked down at her feet to see what in the hell she was constantly tripping over and was more than a little confused to see the length of her burgundy dress pooling against the ground.
"What…?" She pulled the material out away from her to examine, thrown off by the newfound and very generous length. She turned to see that the cabled sweater she was wearing was also now oversized and since she was standing she could see that the sleeves were much too long for her. Which was never the case. She always struggled to have sleeves fit her properly, they were always too short. Three-quarters sleeves were her solution to every outfit for that very reason.
"What on earth?" she muttered. "What—what's going on?"
"Is something wrong?"
"My clothes—they're not—right…?"
"Perhaps more of a formal look for a Hobbit," hummed the man, "but I do try not to judge by appearances alone."
"They're too big? Which makes zero sense and—" she stopped short and looked back up at the stranger oddly. "Wait—I'm sorry—did you just call me a Hobbit?"
He returned her odd look. "Yes, my dear. I'm afraid I do not know your name, though you know mine."
"Emma," she quickly introduced before continuing on. "Listen, just because you're freakishly tall does not mean you can make fun of me and call me a Hobbit."
"I assure you, Lady Emma, I was not making fun. Simply pointing out that Hobbits don't normally wear such long gowns," he clarified kindly.
"But it—wasn't long?" The dress had stopped at her knees…
Her heart was beginning to beat a little faster now. What was going on? Where was she? How was it day when it was night just a second ago? What was wrong with her clothes? She took a shaky breath and went to run her hands through her hair.
Only to stop when she brushed over her ears and discovered a slight point that most certainly wasn't there before and that her hair had considerably more length than her regular bobbed haircut.
"Oh god…" she couldn't help but mutter. She gave a sharp tug on one of her ears only to discover the very real sensation of pain and nerve endings. "Oh god…"
"Gandalf" may have said something right then, but she was too busy gather the length of the hem up in her arms to hear him. When her feet were revealed she was horrified to find them bare, the tops hairy, and larger than they should be. She willed them to give a little wiggle and her toes obliged.
Now she was certain that her heart was going to explode. Or her brain. She didn't know which exactly, but some part of her mind had to be short-circuiting. Her mouth was open in abject horror.
"No, no, no, no, no, no…"
"Lady Emma?"
She managed to take a few steps away before bending down and daring to pinch at the skin on her feet. A sharp pain registered and she quickly felt around for a seam of some sort. Anything that could assure her that it was a dream or a really horrible prank. She had already pinched herself and that didn't seem to be doing the trick. Her heart seemed to be pounding in her (now slightly pointed) ears and she couldn't quite seem to draw a deep breath.
Whirling around, she faced the stranger again.
"Y-you're telling me…that you're Gandalf the Grey?" she rasped, weakly pointing at him.
He nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he studied her. "Yes."
"And this—we're near the Shire….we're…in Middle Earth…?"
"That is correct," he agreed slowly. "You seem very alarmed by this."
Emma lowered herself to the balls of her feet, hands in her newly long hair again, while she tried to force herself to breathe. She certainly didn't need to faint on top of everything else. Otherwise it would just be an encore of her freak out.
"I'm think—I think I'm having a break down, or—or a hallucination, or, god, I don't know what…!" she managed to wheeze, desperately trying to keep from crying.
"And what makes you say that?" he asked, his tone still patient and kind. "I could try to help put things into perspective, if you would like?"
Tentatively, she glanced up at him again, her body still trembling but he offered his hand again and she found herself accepting it once more. Once upright she put her hands on her waist, still focusing on taking deep breaths.
"Now, why don't we begin again?" he suggested with a smile. "I am Gandalf the Grey."
She gave a nod, following his lead. "I-I'm Emma Rogers. Nice to—meet you, Gandalf…" Oh god what a weird thing to say…
"The pleasure is mine, Lady Emma," he said with a small bow. "Where are you from, if not the Shire?"
She opened and closed her mouth once before answering weakly. "Not…Middle Earth…?"
"Hmm, then you are very far from home it would seem," he noted thoughtfully. "Why don't you accompany me to the Shire as we try to figure out more of your current predicament?"
She relaxed a bit when he didn't react poorly to her admittance. "I would like that—thank you..."
"It would be a pleasure, my dear. I do enjoy good company."
He gave a kind smile again and Emma quickly gathered the excess length of her dress in one hand so to follow him along the path. If it really was a dream, then she would wake up, but if…if it wasn't, then she certainly didn't want to be left alone.
"If you do not recall how you arrived," he began, "then perhaps we can start with how you knew of me? I'm afraid I'm not quite familiar with the workings beyond Middle Earth."
"I…" Her words died in her throat as her thoughts began to rush. Should she tell him that he was a story to her? That seemed like a risky move. What if it ruined everything? Somehow changed how Frodo and Sam got rid of the ring? Or what if this was after the ring? Oh god…
Daring to glance back up, she answered, "I've heard your name through stories…"
"Only good ones, I hope," chuckled the wizard, amused.
Well that didn't help narrow down a timeline. Shocking.
"What, um, brings you to the Shire?" she tried. "Do you know—"
Her words were promptly lost when she tripped over her own feet and crashed to the ground.
"Are you all right, Lady Emma?" asked Gandalf, offering his hand once more. Pushing herself up with minimal swearing, she accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her upright. Again. She was sensing a theme.
"I am already tired of these feet," she grumbled, dusting off her front.
"You speak as if they are new to you," pointed out Gandalf, his blue eyes glimmering with interest. "Tell me, Lady Emma, does your home have the races of Men, Elves, Dwarves, and Hobbits?"
She couldn't help but shake her head. Sharp as a tack that Gandalf. "Just the race of Men. Everything else is—well they're…stories..."
He made an interested noise and was then quiet as they continued to walk. Not wanting to risk upsetting him or worse, being left alone, she decided to keep her mouth shut until he addressed her. To try and distract herself, she kept her thoughts occupied with observing the beautiful scenery as well as using her newfound feet at the same time. Learning to walk was going to have to be skill number one.
It seemed like an age before he spoke again.
"These stories you mentioned," he said slowly, "are you familiar with them?"
"Um, yes?" she answered with a half shrug. "I mean, I would watch the movies on Christmas with my mom—she was a big fan of the trilogy when she was younger so it kind of became this tradition of ours. To—to listen to the stories, I mean…"
Keep your story together, Rogers! she mentally scolded herself.
"So familiar then," he hummed in interest. There were a few paces in quiet while the wizard seemed to mull over his thoughts. Emma bit down on her lower lip in worry, not daring to say anything. He didn't ask for any specifics, so she didn't say anything wrong…right?
"I will have to discuss with the leader of our company," began Gandalf, "but how would you feel about accompanying myself and thirteen dwarves on a quest?"
Her answer was less than eloquent as she openly stared up at him.
"What?"
Gandalf liked to believe that at this point in his very long life that he was rarely ever truly surprised by much anymore. It was the kind of confidence came with old age and a worldliness after countless years of never ending travel, he supposed.
So when he was on his way to the Shire to speak with Bilbo Baggins, he was surprised by the sudden appearance of a female Hobbit. Not so much her being there as they were near the Shire, but how she appeared on the side of the main path between one second and the next. Her state of dress was very unusual for a Hobbit, the long hemline of her dress tangled around her feet causing her to fall more than once, to which he offered her assistance. The following conversation had proven…interesting.
It seemed the young lady, Emma Rogers, was not from Middle Earth. In fact, she was thoroughly alarmed by her state of dress, stature, and location. She had mentioned that she knew stories of Middle Earth which is why she knew his name at first sight, but they were just merely stories.
The quest to take back Erebor had long been on his mind, he would admit. To reclaim the homeland for the dwarven people led by Thorin Oakenshield, the rightful King Under the Mountain, descendant of the Durin's line. The gears had begun moving months ago when he first met with Thorin and encouraged him to take back the mountain. It was a noble cause in its duality to take back the home for the dwarves as well as defeat the threat of Smaug the Terrible if he still lived. He knew that Smaug would be a serious threat if dark forces tried to wage war once more, using the fire drake to their advantage.
He studied the young she-hobbit surreptitiously from the corner of his eye as they walked. She was still struggling to come to terms with her current…situation, understandably. It was no accident that she was brought to Middle Earth just before they were to complete their company and set out for the mountain and had knowledge of their world and its tales.
When he asked her if she cared to join the company of thirteen, she was shocked but he saw the recognition flash across her features. She knew of their tale. That would be most fortuitous if she would agree to come so to assist them along the way.
A beat passed before she took a breath and nodded, looking back up at him with brown eyes that seemed all the brighter in the morning light.
"Y-yes…Yes, I'll go with you."
Though her voice trembled he could see that spark of determination beneath the fear and uncertainty. A glimmer of hope.
"Very well. I will speak Thorin when he arrives to discuss your place in the company."
He did not miss the small twitch of a smile that pulled at the corner of her lips. Yes, this would prove most helpful as well as most amusing.
REVIEW! I can't wait to hear your thoughts! I've working on this story on and off for a while now, debating whether or not if it's something I should properly flesh out and post on here, but I've had such rough writer's block that if it makes me want to write I'm going to do so and share with you guys along the way.
Next chapter it's time to meet the dwarves! Good luck to Emma in trying to keep her cool lol
Hope you enjoyed!