Hey! Thanks for checking out my fic!

It's my first Tolkien fanfiction and my first for this account (so I can bury the terrible-shall-not-be-named ones forever). Just a little thought experiment of mine that became a plot bunny of epic proportions.

A little note before we begin: This is entirely movieverse but the movies don't exist in 'our' universe. I say 'our' because this whole thing will be a little AU. There will be a lot of OCs, slow build up and probably a lack of romance plot. So if that's not your thing, read anyway but you might be disappointed. Rated T for swearing and rude English.

EDIT: As you can see here, I come back and edit my chapters over and over again, so if you intend on sticking around you might flick back some times to see my aggressive perfectionism at work.

So here, have a prologue (I promise it's relevant to future plot-points, not including the swearing).

The pub bar had been slowly filling with regulars as the working day came to a close, quieter than usual, as of it being almost Easter and no football being on the TV that night. And that meant the sagging sofas at the back were free all night which suited us just fine. I threw myself on the corner sofa with no small amount of gusto, jostling one friend and kicking my legs up onto the low table in the face of another.

"Evenin', lads!"

"Get your bleedin' legs off my coaster!" The man across from me squawked, waving his pint around as he attempted to bat them off the table. All I did was chortle at his ire until my legs were forced under the table by the woman next to me.

"Stop riling James up for just one second, would you?" She muttered, entirely unamused. Long day, from the sound of it.

"Now, where's the fun in that, Nat?" I asked and then tried to rifle through her handbag for sweets - unsuccessfully. She batted the back of my hand like I was a naughty child.

"The brilliant fun of not being put in the time out corner."

"Ladies, stop squabbling. You, out my seat." Came a voice from behind us, cheerful and deep. Ah, Andrew had been there, too.

"Not unless you bought me a beer," I replied, leaving the bag alone with little interest in it now. Said pint landed on the coaster on the far side of the table, indicating my new seat. "Pleasure doing business with you."

I made a show of stepping over the table to get to the other sofa, to which James made more angry noises. We settled in with more banter, trading gossip about our week - in which Natasha turned up the volume to rant for a solid five minutes about her co-workers idiocy. Trying to make quips about the karma of office working got me the look of "shut the hell up". She only managed to calm down after Andrew threw his arm around her and gave her shoulder a rub of solidarity.

At that moment, my phone started vibrating across the table. I didn't even have to look at the name to reach across and viciously stab the decline button before the uneasy looks that fell upon it could linger.

"Done something with your hair, Elliot?" Nat asked quickly from where she had firmly tucked herself into Andrew's side to eat her chocolate in peace. Nice save.

"Yeah, trimmed it again," I mumbled, reaching back to tug at the jagged edges on the nape of my neck, uncomfortable. "Thinking 'bout dying it pink in a few-"

"-The girl had gone missing outside the premises at around nine o'clock at night on Monday when she vanished from CCTV footage. Later that night, witnesses reported not her disappearance but the appearance of a large animal roaming the same premises, concern spread over a possible zoo escape. It was only when her parents reported her missing the following Tuesday that the West Hampstead Police released the following statement-"

"God, turn that depressing rubbish down, would you!" Nat shouted at the bar staff, who scowled but turned down the tv volume anyway. "Not interested if it ain't football."

"S'weird though, innit?" I nodded back at the TV where the so-called case of connected smuggling rings was still displayed. It'd been all over the news since Tuesday but there'd be no developments, just the same story of coincidences that no one could piece together. Depressing was an accurate descriptor.

"I honestly couldn't give a toss, that's always been in London, they're just throwing a hissy fit about it now that they think there's some massive trafficking ring right under their noses - like there wasn't one before," Andrew shrugged, downing the rest of his pint glass.

And thus we instantly devolved into a four-way argument about illegal trafficking for a good solid hour of our time. Andrew stood firmly on the ground that the police were oblivious while Nat argued that it was warring gangs causing it. I was of the right mind that it was all a bunch of stupid coincidences and rumours and James was going postal with conspiracy theories.

"No, look, I've read 'bout this shit an' you ain't! The police are all cosy with these smugglers 'cause they get their bit on the side from it." James' voice rose for the umpteenth time that night, slamming down his 5th jack and coke to make way for the ensuing rant.

"Yeah, just like they secretly plan to overthrow the Queen?" I snarked and cuffed his head with my shot glass, puffing myself up to yell back. "Don't be fuckin' stupid. Do you think Obama's a lizard, too? Or that the moon landing was fake?"

"Elliot!" Nat scolded, "Stop being an arsehole."

"What? How am I the arse? You don't agree with his rubbish either!" I snapped back.

"I ain't a jerk 'bout it!"

"Well, someone's gotta get through to this simple shit," I shoved a finger into James' temple, "that gunpowder plots and all that rubbish is for stories and should stay in stories."

"I am not simple!" James all but roared, wobbling to his feet and knocking the table over.

"Oi! You lot! If you can't behave yourselves, get out!" A bartender shouted, jerking his thumb at the door with an expression like thunder. The bar was silent for a moment as we all glared at him, then at each other and stumbled out the door.

"I'm goin' home," James muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets and stumbling away without a goodbye, kicking a bin over as he went.

"You should stop pickin' on him you know," Nat told me, one arm steadying herself against the pub window and the other hoisting Andrew over her shoulder. "It'd be nice to have a night where you two don't end up screamin' at each other."

"I don't-"

"Yeah. You do. Stop being an angry drunk and go home. See you later, Elliot, yeah?" She murmured, more gently. Her stare was something akin to pity as she turned away and hobbled down the street with Andrew.

My reply came too late, I was alone on the empty road. Behind me, in the pub, the babble and good cheer had resumed loudly. I glanced back inside, keenly feeling the yearn for my half-finished glass. The TV was stuck on the story like it was on repeat, playing up a short CCTV clip of the alley where that girl had probably met an uneventful but sticky end. The alley flashed with strange, bright eyes - probably the same prompt for all those panicked phone calls about escaped tigers - before the clip ended.

I turned away towards the block of flats, knowing with even more conviction that I was right and the others were being stupid. Even then, I had to blink the afterimages of those eyes away from the darkened streets I passed.

Just a news story.

It was now a slow, warm day in April, heralding the approaching summer months. The news story had been long forgotten and so had the resulting argument - as they always were with my friends. James forgave easily with some grovelling on my part, it was one of his faults but it kept me from getting tossed out of our flatshare on my arse. I'd taken up work in a bookshop - some off-brand, second hand thing on a side street next to an underground station.

Said bookshop was the hell I suffered right now with no customers, no work and no fun. It was deathly quiet, except for the constant ticking of a mechanical clock behind the counter and the pops of my bubblegum. Boring as hell.

I didn't notice the unusual happenings at first - too busy clicking the lock button on my phone in the hopes that a message from Nat would show itself at some point. When my ears popped the first time, I didn't really care. The third, I dropped my phone and strained my senses to find… something. A stray underground train? No, just a faint, vacuum-like noise.

I should've known that the sounds couldn't have been a faulty vacuum cleaner or leaf blower. I mean, have you ever seen or heard either of those in a dusty, second hand bookshop? The short answer is no, obviously, but then what would you call the thums popping in and out of the space around me?

One moment, I had my arms braced heavily on the checkout desk, eyes squinting around the tall bookcases in confusion. A bright pink bubble slowly grew from my lips and my bare knees knocked against wood, ankle boots crossed.

The next, it was like everything crunched inwards towards my chest. In the blink of an eye, with a painful ring in my ears from the next pop, the bookshop had vanished.

I'd be whispering "cliff hangerrr" in your ear ominously but this is a prologue, it's not much of a mystery and this OC is, in fact, a bit of a jerk so... "expected first chapter eeend"?

Please give me feedback - negative, positive, I'll take it all! I'd really like to make sure what I'm writing is good or how I could improve it!

Thanks!