A/N I've been toying with this idea for some time now, unsure whether I should give it a try or not. To be honest these first chapters are more tentative, to see if the plot flows like I want it to flow or not. Hopefully it will do, since this character has actually been long in the making for an original story. Her appearance in this story surprised me when I thought about the idea, but it just clicked so I decided to give it a chance. In the last part of this chapter I tried to show who each Valar was through the voice, without naming them. Hope it worked XD Constructive criticism is most welcome!
Warnings: Movie and book spoilers
Pairings: Kili/OC, mentions of Thorin/Bilbo
Full Summary: Niah had lived almost her entire life in the Tainted World, the remains of Earth after the Third World War turned it into a desolate wasteland. The only belongings she has are the clothes on her body, the motorcycle that somehow survived the war and her father's tattered copy of "The Hobbit". However, when death claims her in the Tainted World she finds herself not in the afterlife, but in Middle Earth. It appears the Valars have a plan for her and if she's lucky, she might just stay alive till the end.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the genius of J.R. except for Niah XD English is not my native language.
Chapter I: A broken world
The Tainted World they called it nowadays. The Tainted Ones, they were, last survivors in a putrid world. Too much time had passed since she had seen color in her life, since she had gazed upon trees or touched grass. Now the world was grey and she was one of the last to roam the land once known as The Blue Planet.
She had survived war and famine, pollution and cannibals. For ten years she had struggled to live, to honor the sacrifice her parents and grandfather had made to keep her alive. Many uncounted days she had prayed to see a change, to witness a speck of color return to her world. Now it was too late… she was dying. It was fitting that at least she would see the end in the old wooden cottage once held by her grandfather, the place that kept the few happy memories from her youth. It was the place where she had first listened to fantastic stories about knights and dragons, sitting on her grandfather's knee, the place where letters started forming words and later tales, where "The Hobbit" became her favorite book and her only friend once everyone had passed away from her life.
Nobody except her would recognize the cottage now. The once shinning wooden walls were moldy and cracked, the floor was full of rags and spare bits of paper ripped from books that once served as fire starters for wood that no longer existed. Huddled in her ratty blanket, she tried to keep the tremors of her body under control. She had lasted as long as she could… there was no reason to be ashamed of herself. In a world of cannibals and war, she had managed to survive many years armed only with a dagger and her wit. She had adapted just like all the survivors did.
However, now was too late to adapt anymore. Chills racked her body and fever raged inside her; medicine no longer existed in her world. It was the end, she knew it! The wounds that adorned her arms, courtesy of her last encounter with a Pride had become infected. If the fever did not kill her, the poison in her blood would. Still, she had one choice that would not be robbed of her.
Looking around, she glanced one last time at her meager possessions, all dreadfully useless in the new world, yet dear to her heart. Her father's motorcycle didn't work anymore, but it stood next to the cold fireplace, helping her remember kinder times when her mother would cluck in distaste seeing her husband clad in full leather garb, but would smile at him nonetheless. Her grandfather's tattered copy of "The Hobbit" lay next to her cot, making her think about the way her grandfather's eyes would wrinkle whenever he laughed. Her last possession, barbecue matches, would have been the only ones that could have helped her in this had kept them hidden out of pain and sorrow as they made her remember the way her best friend's house blazed in the night after it was set on fire by a Pride. Now, she took them from their hiding place and lit them all. Clutching her only surviving book next to her chest she watched as the rags around her caught fire and burned. In mere moments everything would be a memory.
Late in the night a cottage burned, a last speck of light in a grey and tainted world.
In a world far away, on an island unseen by most save few privileged ones, fourteen figures stood in a circle, mighty and imposing, too powerful for mere mortal eyes to gaze upon. Besides them stood a great tapestry woven by she who was known as The Weaver. It told stories of loss, death and heartache, stories familiar to those who resided in the Blessed Realm.
"A change in the threads of fate must be handled with great caution," one of the fourteen said and her voice was sad, like the rain falling in a cold autumn night. "One small thing can lead to the ruin of all."
"Still, things cannot remain as they are," another spoke, his voice powerful as a hammer. "We have seen the outcome of this fate, we cannot allow it to come to pass."
"But to choose one of the Tainted for this task!" a second voice interfered, booming like horse hooves on the ground. "They care for nothing save their own pitiful lives."
"Her life is already forfeit," another female voice remarked softly, both cold and warm like the light of the stars.
"A balance must be kept," the fifth one remarked, his voice cold as the shadows, "An equilibrium must be preserved. If one life is spared, then another must be sacrificed."
"She holds hope inside her," his brother remarked from his side, his voice tranquil like the rustle of the leaves. "She is our only hope."
"It has been decided then?" a last voice asked, both commanding and warm at the same time.
"Yes!"
All fourteen voices rose to the sky and a powerful light sprung in the air. The time for change had come and for better or for worse the one to call upon this change had been chosen. It was up to her to rise to the task and see the world restored to its proper order.