A/N- Still looking for a beta reader and welcome to my story. Thanks for stopping by and please do leave a review. Constructive criticism is welcome, as are follows and favorites. Yes, this is my take on the popular Modern Girl in Middle Earth trope but it is more to develope my OC Riya Singhania who is the protagnist of my original work "Siya".

This is an edited and hopefully less hyper and more readable version of the same chapter that I had posted before.

Prologue

Dear Readers,

This is my first official work of writing in Middle Earth. I should try to make it sound formal. However, if I am to be the Middle Earth equivalent of King Alfred, then well, what's better than modern English with Old and Middle English, of which I know only bits, thrown in? Progress and all that jazz.

Now, what would you do if you fell into another world?

Sounds ridiculous but it happened to me.

Moreover, no, it was not a wardrobe, a dream, or a train station where it happened. It happened in broad daylight ten months after my one-and-twentieth birthday.

Look, I won't say I didn't ask for it.

I did.

Hell, I used this fantasy of crossing worlds as a motivator for everything I didn't want to do.

Don't feel like going running?

What would you do, Miss Singhania, if you fell into Middle Earth someday? Crawl and hope that the orcs find something tastier?

Eating healthy sounds boring?

What if you wake tomorrow in a hobbit hole and all you have is healthy food which your body doesn't know how to process?

You get the idea. I was a Hobbit fan-girl. I spent as much time as I could, reading Hobbit fanfiction. I could quote the movies and the book in my sleep.

However, despite my daydreams, I never expected to see the grand majesty of Erebor or the rolling hills of the Shire, where I now live. Well, see it out of my imagination or a movie screen (and yes, I will explain that later or earlier as the case may be.)

This is, Riya Singhania, the wordsmith, the story-weaver, world-walker, and a Princess of Erebor, wife to King-in-training (ain't that a mouthful) Prince Fili of Erebor.

Once you turn the page, you will step into my skin, my words, and my life and see how falling into the Hobbit is nothing like fanfiction depicts. Nope, the Valar don't drop you there in all your pumpkin glory (explanations will come) but they don't make you a super awesome Mary Sue either.

It's real and scary and the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Without further ado…I present to you-

A Girl's Quest: My Journey to Erebor.

Characters

Me or Riya Singhania.

The Company of his majesty, King Thorin Okaenshield of Erebor.

Gandalf, the grey wizard.

Rivendell Elves including but not limited to Lord Elrond and his heirs.

Estel.

Mirkwood or Greenwood Elves including King Thranduil, Prince Legolas of Greenwood and Princess Tauriel f Erebor.

Orcs (called goblins in English) and wargs or the giant wolf-like beasts orcs ride on.

PostScript- No, Fee, Kee, the two of you don't get to whine because your names aren't mentioned. You are included in the company.

With Love,

Riya Singhania.

Prologue- Jumping ship on my own life.

Have you ever dreamt a dream so real that it took you days to figure out that it was not, in fact, real?

My first thought when I stumbled upon the white-haired dwarf; Balin was, unfortunately, not that. Cue, the first discrepancy from popular fan-fiction.

Why in the seven circles of hell did I know it was not something my subconscious came up with? Well, no because my sub-conscious hasn't tortured me with such dreams before, it has. Nope, I knew that was real because of the Valar.

Two, in particular, Mahal and Yavanah.

Back to me appearing in front of Balin out of thin air on the outskirts of Hobbiton.

Balin?

You must know him; he is one of the chief council members of Erebor.

Erebor?

Well, that's a dwarf kingdom of great renown. I am surprised you haven't heard of it before but then again, it is in the Far East. Like the Far East.

Oh yes, the Lonely Mountain, home of dwarrow and filled with riches beyond where your imagination can stretch.

Gold, silver, diamonds gleaming in torchlight, miners working day and night to unearth precious metals, jewelers, and masons and sculptures transforming stones into things of incredible beauty and invaluable strength.

A haven for artisans, musicians, bookers, and painters, if one can brave the din of the mines and metal-work. No, Dawlin, not everyone finds the sound of metal hitting metal soothing.

And in the valley beyond the Mountain, stands a city of Men.

Hale Dale, as I like to call it, with its jingling bells and streets full of sunshine and laughter. Kids running around, swinging in the air, children playing war and house, and along with them plays Princess Tilda, the Valiant.

How Lords to fight for her hand and that of her sister, Princess Sigrid, the Gentle is another tale entirely.

Let's not forget, lest he starts pouting, Prince Bain, the Just.

If you follow the road, now paved, from Dale to Lake Town, you will be walking with history. Time-travel some may say and ain't that a thought.

Walking the path of kings and dragons and fleeing folk but also the path that was once taken by a haggard group, surviving on hope alone for you see, Erebor and Dale were not always, as they are now when Bilbo and I write our tales.

Well, I call it hope but ask the King of Mirkwood and I bet my inheritance, that elf, that stately and grand but childish elf would call it the sheer stubbornness of dwarves.

How easy, the hobbit and the girl are to forget, you may remark but ask Beorn, the great bear, living in his paradise a few miles away and all he will talk of is his little bunny, the gentle hobbit from the green hills of the west.

That, however, is not the beginning of this story.

Then again, what is the beginning?

My start in Middle Earth?

Smaug coming to Erebor?

Me being born?

Tolkien writing the Hobbit?

Alternatively, the Big Bang?

Creation of the multiverse?

Let's start the way one of my favorite tales do, once upon a time in a galaxy far far away. A universe away, in fact, sat an old man writing.

He wrote of a beautiful world, a world filled with elves and wisdom and jewels and mountains and so so much beauty.

The Gods looked down and were so pleased with his writing that they made the world real. However, this new world, it wasn't just beauty and grace and tranquil songs of nature.

It had its own dangers and they all came to life.

It's Gods; the Valar, elves, dwarrow, men, and hobbits all breathed but so did dragons and the evilest of them all- a man who was more shade than human.

With him slunk into life, his army of Nazgul, and orcs. He waged war with his weapons of greed to soothe his lust for power.

Lost but not defeated, he readied to return. Sauron.

In the galaxy where the man wrote, none knew this world was real. They thought them tales, beautiful wonderful stories that made you want to cry and curl up in fetal positions as your heart shredded itself to nothing.

Tales that made you laugh, love and hope. That brought to life the courage you needed to set out on your own adventure.

Tales that I, like so many others, fell in love with.

Time passed and the tales grew. The people's love for them grew and when the Valar saw this, they picked one, to make the changes they wished to make.

Spoiler Alert- no, she wasn't the only one they had thought of choosing, most flat out refused which, now that I think back, might have been the sensible decision.

Well, I wasn't ever known for my overpowering sense of self-preservation. We aren't the best of friends.

Most people refused, some agreed but turned evil and some poor souls even died.

The Valar could only rewrite the story so many times, so this time, one of their last few chances, they looked hard and wide. And found one girl.

One tiny slip of a human with hope, love, perseverance, and stubbornness in her heart, stars in her eyes and creativity in her fingers, no dear, no one ever accused me of being modest, and an annoyingly inescapable need to prove herself, to be happy and to make her parents proud.

One, who had fought so very hard for her dreams but would leave them at the drop of a hat to save another's life and then come back and pick up where she left off.

One who often thought herself useless and yet always remembered the struggle, the god, bad, the ugly, and the brilliant and then renewed her story.

A Storyteller.

The one they should have found many trails ago.

They saw her and remembered the words that started the venture they were trying to change the outcome of.

Loyalty, courage and a willing heart. The girl had the first two, all that remained was to see if she would give the third.

Spoiler Alert- It was me.

Yay!

Honestly, I miss plumbing, chocolate, and the internet. Sweet Yavana and Persephone, do I miss Tumblr, but I get by.

However, television, fanfiction and online bookstores would be really appreciated.

Thus, began my journey into the "Hobbit".

It started on a cold winter morning in the Indian city of Kolkata, a name my brother-in-law, Prince Kili of Erebor finds hilarious if the way he is on choking on Bilbo's prize-winning tomatoes is any indication.

Spoiler Alert- He has always found it hilarious. The city. Not the tomatoes.

Who even eats raw tomatoes you ask?

I present to you Prince Kili of Erebor and no, I take no responsibility. I might have introduced him to the practice of eating raw tomatoes but I certainly didn't make him an addict.

Goes to show, never do a good deed, especially if a Durin Prince is concerned.

That's a life lesson, kids.

Kolkata, the City of Joy and metros, where smoke is adding another layer in the atmosphere and Sandesh and Rasogulas are the best parts of a meal.

My city.

My home.

I was returning home from college in yet another city, tired but full of trivia about my favorite language and least favorite species, which naturally happened to be my own when a car hit me.

Yeah, that happened.

Didn't.

I am a bit of a road phobic, you see. What really happened was something I still can't properly recall.

One moment I was speaking to my best friend on my phone, voicing how much the last Hobbit fanfiction I had read had hurt; it was one of those, which did not fix the events of the Battle of the Five Armies. The next second I was standing in a grand hall and in front of me stood the tallest man I have ever seen.

I might have squeaked and stumbled back.

No shame in that, the person was gigantic. Yes, he was taller Beron.

At first, I thought I had bumped into a statue. A gigantic, midnight black statue who could compete with Dumbledore in the "whose beard is longest" contest.

Yep, that was Aule, Mahal, the Maker or whatever you want to call the Middle Earth version of Vulcan. All due respect.

Dude's awesome and yes, I know he is a powerful god who could take offense to my words and smite me down. Yep, I also know that my mom is probably having a heart attack at how disrespectful I am being.

I am not very proud of that either but whatever I say I say it in the name of truth and with full respect. I solemnly swear.

So, back to Aule?

He is amazing!

Yavana and he are the coolest Gods I have ever met, and don't let Fili fool you, I have met quite a few Gods.

Maybe.

Unlikely.

Whatever.

This story is not about how many Gods, I have met (though let me just say Thalia was so right about Apollo being hot.)

Thus, after all the squeaking, scrambling back, gasping, thinking I was dreaming, and trying to walk past what I assumed was a huge statue, Mahal spoke to me.

Oh, my stars, how cool does that sound!

Let's take a moment to fan our faces and fangirl.

Yep, all composed now, almost.

Now if I was a good person (and reading this not one anyone will believe I was ever a professionally published writer back in my own universe) I would tell you more than just that, he and I discussed the terms and conditions of my falling into Middle Earth.

However, I really want to get the story started and well, anticipation is a good thing. As is patience.

There I was looking up at this giant dude with a bloody hammer in his hand and this beautiful, utterly gorgeous, breathtaking Persephone type woman.

Yes, I assumed they were cosplayers and then Greek gods.

Pranks, I would have considered except, did I mention they were huge?

Once my shock and disbelief wore off, we sealed the deal, there might have been some fainting involved but it was all very classy and fun, I assure you.

All traces of Riya Singhania were erased from my real world; sorta like I never existed but whatever I did exist (where have I seen that before?)

Except my writings were left as they were, that was non-negotiable. The author's name and history were changed though, and ain't that sad no one remembers me.

Well except the whole internet and the fandoms, I wrote in. My writing is certainly a reflection of me!

However, no history remains of me being tortured with six History of English Literature classes in a day or my life as Maya (and yes, that is a reference to a poem that will appear later in the story) except in the written word.

Nevertheless, I can't really say I am sad.

It took me some time to come to terms with the fact that I was going to Middle Earth and planning to jump ship on my own life. It hurt and the more I thought, the more it hurt but how could I leave three people t die when I could have helped?

Was I doing this to save another but was it real or was it just an escape route?

For a moment, I pictured my twin sister Sami and it was so easy to say no and go home. See the family again after months. She needed me, right?

Yet, I also knew that my family is made of strong stuff.

They can and will survive without me, and while I did not think I could help the Durins much, they would certainly die if I did not try to help. And isn't that what I always kept telling Sam to do?

Isn't that what I wanted to do?

Change the world and help others, using my words? Well, going and living in a fictional reality takes using words a bit too far and I thought I was under zero disillusionment about how glamorous and easy life on the road in a pre-industrial revolution society, where apparently only hobbits have plumbing, would be, I could not let someone die when I was given a chance.

Apart from that and a fangirl sense of duty towards my favorite and maybe not so favorite characters as of then, the only way I can justify my decision is that I had lost it.

Spoiler Alert- The journey turned out of harder and easier than I anticipated.

I had lost my everything, okay, I could take as much time as I wanted to think and grieve.

I miss that life but as Riya disappeared from Earth, a human girl from another universe, awoke in Middle Earth.

And that?

That was the plot twist I had been searching for, for so long.

Three years and maybe, even a lifetime.

It was, however, not a quick decision I made. I took my time, twenty whole minutes in fact and then I agreed and Mahal made me appear in front of Balin, a decision I am thankful for even today.

Balin is the most level-headed dwarf ever and I really needed the calm he projects at that moment.

I totally didn't flip when I looked up and saw Balin.

Alright, I did a little.

Because as very real as the tall Gods were, a part of me, the stupid logical one let me inform you, was still expecting to wake up in my room, Mom's dulcet tones giving me an earache as I bid adieu to the realms of Morpheus.

Seeing Balin sealed the deal, I was in Middle fringing Earth, excuse the language, and I had to save the thickhead line of Durin, help reclaim Erebor, and make sure that they stayed far away from that gold sickness till they got proper treatment.

Wasn't that a thought, did they even have therapy in middle earth?

As a child might say, that's just three goals to accomplish and that thought is one of the many reasons I am still alive and writing this.

Well, let's get to work kiddies because this is where the story begins.

Oh and did I mention, I still had my kindle, laptop, cell-phone, books and well, the entire luggage I was taking home?

I had no idea at all, why, but most of that really helped not just cement my story (which as it turned out needed very little cementing; thanks time-travel) but also keep me sane, comfortable and gave the Durins a job after well, the Battle of the Five Armies.

Thank god, Yavana really, for small mercies and patience.

Which reminds me, patience is a virtue and all your questions, I will be answering later as the story progresses.

This work is just a fun re-telling of the trip to Erebor.

For dry and historical facts of the still amazing journey, please refer to Ori's brilliant and engaging work "The Reclaiming of Erebor."