Demigods of the Ring

by

Quill-and-Parchment

Chapter 1 - Half-Bloods in a Box

"Percy."

"I know, Thalia, okay? Just give me a second."

"You said that five minutes ago."

"Thank you for your support, Nico. It makes me feel so much better."

The sound of heaving and cracking could be heard. It ended abruptly, and someone sighed in defeat.

"So…what? We're stuck?"

"…Yeah."

"Oh, this is just perfect! It's Sunday and I get stuck in a box. If you hadn't run after that Cyclops –"

"Then what are you suggesting I do, Thalia? That freaking monster nearly ate the kid!"

"Let me shoot it because I happen to have a bow? And twenty-six arrows in my quiver?"

"Guys –"

"Who is shouting profanities at the TV because the Rangers scored and didn't pay half an ounce of attention to everything that went on around her? I tried to get your attention three times and you flipped me the bird two times, remember?" Tempers were running high.

"Oh, that's it. Where's my spear?" Yes, very high indeed.

"Guys, hey, guys…"

"You wanna go? Might as well. I need to get some steams off."

"Get ready to get beaten to a pulp by a girl, Seaweed Brain!"

"Bring it on, Pinecone Face."

"Shut it!" the third voice said harshly, and they all fell silent. For a long moment, they strained their ears to listen to what the third had detected. It was awhile, but the unmistakable sound of thumping footsteps and cracking twigs underfoot soon came to them. All quarrels forgotten, the three children of the Big Three grasped their weapons and prepared as much as they could in the crammed space of the wooden crate they were locked in.

If it comes to real fighting, however, they would have to count on Thalia's spear. There was not even enough room for all three to move around without shoving their elbows into each other's faces, and hers was the only thing tall enough that requires minimum movement to use. Not to mention that Thalia was a girl and Huntress; Percy swore Artemis's I-am-an-eternal-maiden attitude had started to rub off on his once carefree friend, because now Thalia was a bit wary of touch between them.

They have expected the lid above them to slide open any second now, seeing as the footsteps had gotten very close to them. What they didn't expect, though, was for the crate to fall onto its side, sending both Thalia and Percy on top of Nico, and for the bottom of their prison to open.

Tense seconds passed with no sound whatsoever. All three of them were painfully aware of their vulnerable position. Nico was squished underneath Thalia and Percy, and neither of them could maneuver to attack effectively in any way, shape or form. It sent tingles of fear down their spines. They were half-bloods and warriors. They didn't like feeling vulnerable.

"Can I…help you?" a voice asked carefully, bordering between wariness and amusement. It came from the direction of their feet.

Percy and Thalia exchanged a glance, then looked at Nico for his opinion. The son of Hades was, however, too occupied with being squished by two near-invincible demigods (each in their own senses) to give anything more than a halfhearted glare. Thalia bit her lip to fight off a grin and raised her head.

"Yes!" she called. "Can you please help us out?"

"Pull us out, she means," Percy added.

Silence. Then, "All right, all right. Give me a second, if you will." There were shuffling noises, then Thalia's ankles were grabbed in a strong grip and she was pulled out. It wasn't the most dignified way of making your way out of a box, but when you are trapped in a crate with the lid on the bottom, it was the best you could manage.

Percy followed on his own, now that there was enough room for him to move around. He flashed Nico a silent apology before backing his way out of the box. Nico didn't take his revenge on the way out, not that it would work anyway. The aftereffects of having to fight big bad and immortal deities could be nice after all.

The son of Poseidon squinted in the sudden, blinding sunlight. He blinked several times before he could get used to it, then turned to Thalia. She was talking to their savior – or who he guessed was their savior – who appeared to be a midget. Percy looked at him for a moment, noted his short stature, his white hair and his bespectacled face before deciding he wasn't going to kill them and checked out his surroundings.

"We're not in New York anymore, I'm afraid," Nico remarked quietly. Percy glanced at him and then the sceneries. He was right, the son of Poseidon realized. They were standing on a wide dirt road with endless green plains on their right and a thick forest to their left. In the distance, Percy could spot what looked like stone houses. The air smelled – fresh. Fresher than he'd ever smelled it anywhere, save for maybe Ogygia, Calypso's island. Next to them was a wooden cart, and on it, many crates and straws. Pulling the cart was a horse.

Percy felt a little bit better. His father was the Lord of Horses, after all, and so he could talk to them. Hey, he told the animal. It snorted, turning its head to give him a long look.

Hello, it responded at last, in a feminine voice. Well, no, Percy supposed he could not say feminine. Thoughts don't have voices. But he could tell that the horse was a she.

So where are we? Percy asked. Again, she gave him a long look, this time with a touch of strangeness.

Why, we are in North Farthing, of course, she said like that was supposed to be obvious. Where else do you think we are? Gondor?

Percy blinked. Where is Gondor? And where's North Farthing? It wasn't on any map he'd read from before, but it might be because he kept falling asleep in geography and missed it somewhere. It wasn't as if it could be help; Mr. Bankers wasn't exactly the most exciting teacher he'd ever seen. That'd been Chiron, and Percy had faith nobody would beat the old centaur for that title.

The Shire, the horse responded. Her voice suddenly turned suspicious. Are you one of those Outsiders?

Well –

"Percy!"

Percy tore his eyes from the mare to glance at Thalia, who was beckoning him over. She'd apparently finished talking to the owner of the horse, seeing as this was probably his cart, and was walking toward him rapidly. The serious look on her face told him there was something very wrong. Not as if he didn't know already.

"Do you happen to know where North Farthing is?" Thalia asked.

"In the Shire," Percy replied. When Thalia stared at him, he added quickly, "Don't look at me. I got that second-handed." He glanced at the mare, who snorted again. Thalia nodded her understanding and glanced at Nico, who was inspecting their surroundings with a suspicious look in his eyes.

When he turned to them, Thalia asked him the same question as she had Percy. He shook his head. "I don't know either," he said reluctantly. "I have never heard of North Farthing, but the Shire sounded…familiar somehow. I'm just not sure where I have heard of it before."

Percy glanced at the mare, who cocked her head in a way to express curiosity. "Well, do you mind remembering it a little faster? I would appreciate it if I know where we are and how far we are from my house. Paul will kill me if I get his brand new car trampled on or lost again," he urged.

"Artemis is also charging me with watching the Hunt," Thalia added her two cents. There was a flicker of annoyance on her face, but it disappeared just as quickly. "I mean, I don't believe they will cause major disaster or anything, but still…" She trailed off. Percy was reminded of the time, only three days ago, how the Hunt had basically blown a mighty big hole in the Ares cabin because someone accidentally brushed their hand against one of the Hunters' chest. Chiron had been angry, but there was no helping it. Good thing Artemis had enough patience and respect to hear the entire story out. But he could see Thalia's worry.

Nico waved his hand impatiently. "I know, I know. Just let me think." His eyes focused on something behind them, and the other two's eyes narrowed. They knew who he was looking at, and they were pretty much having the same idea. When you are a demigod and you wake up got trapped in a box, then freed my a complete stranger (midget or not) to find that you are trapped in the middle of nowhere, you ought to be distrustful.

"He's our only source of help now," Thalia said simply. "We should tell him that we're lost, then wait until we get our hands on a world map, at least. We can figure our way from there."

"Or we can send an Iris message to Chiron," Nico replied bluntly. "Easier and less time-wasting. Now, do any of you have drachmas?"

Thalia and Percy exchanged a glance.

"Right," Percy butted in while Nico's eyes rolled to the heavens. "Midget guy it is."

"Excuse me," the voice behind them said, sounding insulted. "Did you folks just call me a midget?"

The three of them turned, startled. "We didn't mean to insult you," Nico said quickly, frowning. "Forgive us –"

He was cut off by the midget. "I am no midget!" the little man spluttered indignantly. "I am a hobbit, I will have you know! I am neither crippled nor disabled!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "And who are you? Just what are you doing in my cart?"

Percy glanced at the other. Once again, it was Nico who stepped up. He was, frankly, the most diplomatic of them all when the time comes. Probably because he traveled so much, Percy assumed.

"We have no idea," Nico replied carefully. "As we've said before, we didn't know that you are a…hobbit." His brow furrowed, as though the term triggered something. "We're sorry."

The midget – no, hobbit – stared at each of them individually for a long moment and Percy was reminded of his horse, but then he nodded, his face softening. "Right. Well, I couldn't really blame you, I guess. Not many have seen us these days, I'm afraid. And you are the Big Folk, after all." He turned to grab the reins of the mare before turning to look at them quizzically. "But who are you? I have never seen attires like that before." His eyes held the slightest hint of disapproval when they rested on Thalia's casual clothes – or more accurately, her jeans. But then he turned his eyes to Percy, and the moment was over.

That didn't really make sense. They were wearing what every single teenager out there was wearing – well, except for the tribes in Amazon Jungle or something – so why was he puzzled? Now that he said it, Percy noted that the midget man (hobbit! He must remember that) was not in the most modern of clothes either. He was wearing a button-up white shirt that looked like it was from…Renaissance time? Covering his legs was a pair of breeches. His feet – hairy, large feet – were left bare.

Percy was proud that his eyebrows didn't go up at this. Didn't they have shoes out for even the humblest of people right about then? He thought the world had gone past the point where even the poor people had to go barefoot on dirt road (unless you are in Africa, and that's probably going to take years to fix). And besides, the man (hobbit!) didn't look as though he couldn't afford it. His white shirt was brand new, by the look of it. So were the rest of his clothes and belongings. The mare wasn't grumbling, which meant she was well-taken care of.

From the look of things, with the background to boots, the hobbit looked like something straight out from a medieval fantasy movie.

Weird.

"…far away." Nico was speaking again, and Percy forced his attention from the hobbit back to his friend. "I believe we were…kidnapped."

Maybe that wasn't too far from the truth. They certainly hadn't come here by choice, wherever here was. That could be considered as kidnapping, Percy guessed, though he'd rather preferred the term teleported. If his parents ever heard about this…

The hobbit looked at them up and down for several more seconds before nodding slowly, the last of his suspicion fading away, replaced by what was akin to sympathy. "Ah, I see," he said. "You three are still quite young to boot! I have no idea how or why you ended up in my cart, but let it be known I do not let lost children wander about. Come! Let us ride home. We can talk more on the way."

He settled on the bench in front of the cart and beckoned them to climb in. The three half-bloods exchanged a glance. Should we? Nico asked quietly.

Percy shrugged. What choice do we have? This "hobbit" hadn't transformed into some nasty cannibal and tried to eat them yet at any rate, and they would be constantly wary just as they did when they were back home. They haven't survived a major war and little fights all over the place for nothing.

They made their way to the cart and climbed on, all sitting with the crates and looking at the driver with the slightest trace of suspicion in their eyes. It still unsettled them, this place, and as Nico returned to his mulling trying to figure out where they were, Percy glanced around the countryside. The hobbit seemed to be correct about them wearing strange clothes in this place. The few farmers out on the field and children they saw all wore clothes similar to him: Renaissance-style clothes that didn't look like they were made for Halloween.

"I'm Drego Brandybuck by the way," the hobbit said. "And who might you be? It is not polite to leave your helpers in the dark about your identities, isn't it?"

"Thalia," Thalia said distractedly from the front as she tried to figure out why another of these "hobbits" were glaring at her from his field of what looked like…tobacco?

"Percy Jackson," the son of Poseidon replied. Seeing as Nico was still deep in thought, Percy decided to help him out. "The kid is Nico di Angelo."

Drego twisted in his seat, blinking at Percy in surprise. "Kid?" he asked, looking around. "Where?"

Percy frowned. He gestured toward Nico. "Here. This kid."

Unfortunately, the hobbit's puzzlement only grew. "He is no kid," Drego protested. "He is a boy!"

"Yeah. That's what I said. He's a kid!"

Drego frowned. "I am sure we are not on the same page here, good Master Percy. Your friend is surely not a goat!" he objected. At this, both Thalia and Nico glanced up at them, perplexity in their gaze. They looked at Percy, who shrugged. He, too, was confused. Why was he mistaking Nico for a goat?

"What's with me and a goat?" Nico asked, frowning.

"I am introducing you," Percy replied. "Since you're so focused on jogging that ancient memory of yours and all."

Nico glared at him. Thalia shrugged and returned to watching the scenery while keeping half an eye on Drego, who was still looking at Percy as though he was weird. "I'm Nico," the son of Hades said, still glaring at his friend.

"Yes, yes, I heard that first time around," Drego waved his hand impatiently. "What I want to know is, why did your friend here call you a kid?"

Nico blinked. Well, technically, he was eighty-two or eighty-three years old by now, but if you take out his non-aging years, then…"I am a kid, I guess," he admitted. Uncharacteristic of him, really, but Nico was starting to enjoy it when the adults got a shock for seeing how the "Goth kid" could stand up for himself.

Drego stared at them both. Then he turned around to the road and shook his head. The Big Folk. One could never know how those funny heads of theirs operated. Calling a boy a young goat, indeed!

In case you didn't get the joke, a young goat was known as a kid. I don't have any reason to believe that the people of Middle-Earth use that slang for "children", so wa-la, from that stemmed out this joke. I've seen it somewhere before...although I can't remember where. Either way, the mention of this was not copyrighted to me.

Unfortunately, I can't find any cross-over in the PJO/LotR section that I can actually tolerate, so I was forced to write my own. Yes, I'm vain and picky beyond belief, but this idea had been cooking up in my brain for awhile. First intended as a one-shot, but it just can't fit in.

Enjoy.