Summary: An unsuspecting Captain fell into Middle-Earth through a crack in between existing worlds while a mission went horribly wrong in his own world. Found by King Aragorn, he presents himself to come with peace and thankfully, years of studying different languages able him to speak Westron and rough Elvish with the king, obtaining trust. As the Captain studies the broken dimensional crack, he finds out that dark creatures from his own world began to appear in Middle-Earth, causing havoc since the citizens are unable to defeat them swiftly without weapons like his. He investigates further on and helps the Gondorian knights defeat appearing creatures, while trying to find a way back home.
AU; timeline set after ROTK. Unsuspected characters will appear.
I noticed how there is too much of female OC's dropping into Middle-Earth, so why not give a male OC, and for once, not a Sue, a chance? Comments are much welcomed.
It all happened too fast.
For Christopher, it felt mere seconds. He and his men were running through the dark, haunted corridors of an abandoned ancient palace, all tired, wounded and breathing heavily, clutching their weapons, trying to find the last Gate hidden somewhere deep in the building. They could hear the dreaded Shadow stalking behind them, hot on their heels. They had expected for the ancient guardian to be aware of their unwelcoming presence, but they did not expect of its overwhelming strength.
It was just a turn in the corner that was when the group was divided. Christopher saw the Gate, shimmering in silver, radiating live energy. He braced the Lock in his hands, ready to close the door for eternity until the Shadow lit roaring fires in the hall, separating himself from his group. He turned, but his companions urged him to go on, promising they would hold the Shadow back to give him time. With much reluctance, the Captain slammed the Lock onto the door, emitting magnetic electrical spikes as the gadget switched itself on.
Just then, a large shadow loomed behind him. The Captain turned, drawing his gun at the demon the Shadow had summoned, frantically shooting at it. He just needed a few more minutes for the Lock to close the Gate, and that was when a series of electrical surges boomed and the Captain was sucked right into the hole.
The blackness took over him, and when he came to, he fell into shallow waters, the warmth waking him. He saw the wolf fell right after him, and he stood, and shot the damned creature right between the eyes. The creature dropped dead, and with a sigh of relief, the Captain's eyes tiredly scanned the new area. He was in some sort of a bathroom, standing in a large pool in the marble floor. Suddenly, the doors slammed open and knights in shining armor stormed in, spears at the ready. The Captain could see the surprise in their eyes as they looked at him.
Christopher's mind tried to recognize the attire, trying to guess which world he had gotten himself into now. Just then, a man with a mop of dark hair strode in, a proud crest of a white tree on the tunic he wore. He cautiously approached the Captain, and spoke. Christopher's brows furrowed, not understanding what the man was saying. He lowered his gun and raised a hand in show of peace. The leader of the group before him spoke again, seemingly to demand him of something.
Christopher tried to identify the language he spoke of, but consciousness decided to abandon him and he unceremoniously fell into the water.
The King of Gondor walked hastily through the corridors of Minas Tirith, heading towards the main hall. A runner had just informed him that Lord Elrond had just finished tending to the strange guest's wounds. He himself was curious to how the strange man had entered in the King's halls, nonetheless, into one of the guest rooms' bathing rooms.
Taking a sharp turn in a corner, he came upon familiar doors leading into the Healing houses. The guards opened the heavy doors, and Aragorn saw the Half-Elven lord wiping his hands dry with a clean washtowel. "Lord Elrond, how is he?" the king questioned. The Half-Elven turned to the man. "He is resting. I had to sedate him with sleeping potions, so then his pain would lessen as I fix his wounds," Elrond spoke as an assistant took away the bloodied medical items on a tray.
"He had suffered many wounds. A few broken ribs, burns, multiple deep slashes on his back and bruises as strong as a troll's wrath," he said, watching Estel's eyes slightly widened. "It seems as if the boy went through war, and yet he still lives. He needs to be in bed for at least three weeks," Elrond concluded, taking a seat on a nearby chair followed by the king. "What do you plan to do once he awakens, Estel?"
Aragorn thought for a moment. "For a stranger to suddenly appear in the house without guards noticing is dangerous. What more, in a bathroom, and the floor was even damaged," he noted. "I sense he comes with peace. There will be some questioning," Aragorn decided. "But I would still post a guard by his room while he heals. We cannot take risks. Strange creatures have been appearing near Mordor."
Elrond studied the king closely. He could see how tired the man was. A King's duties were never easy, he himself understood the stress for he had ruled his realm for many centuries. It has been a few years after the last great war against Sauron, and strange things had occurred two summers ago. Dark creatures began to appear near the land of Mordor. Large wolves that were anything they had seen before. At first, the creatures seem to only roam aimlessly, but now the creatures have started to attack unsuspecting travelers and soldiers patrolling nearby lands. To kill the creatures were another problem, for their skin were tougher than Wargs. To bring down one of them was like to bring down one Oliphaunt.
Word has spread across countries and realms of these creatures, and security has been tight. To travel became a risk now that the creatures have dared to explore lands other than Mordor, and trading activities have lessen. Elrond stood and placed a comforting hand on his foster-son's shoulder. "It will all be well soon, Estel. The next Council will be held soon enough. You need to rest," he gave a reassuring smile, and the king gave a nod.
Eomer, King of Rohan strolled down the quiet white halls. His company and himself had arrived to the city yesterday's evening, and had battled against the rumoured wolf. Its strength was great, and Eomer could recall the image of multiple spears on its back, though it did not even waver in its steps. As the last attempt, Eomer and one of his soldiers did their best to cut the beast's throat, finally killing the creature slowly. He remembers the black blood and the heat and foul stench it radiated. Upon their arrival, King Aragorn immediately sent them to the Healing house and assigned guest rooms for them. They slept through the night, some still shaken by the encounter.
That morning, Eomer had breakfast with the King and heard of the news of a strange guest appearing in one of the bathrooms. He reluctantly believed the tale, but until he passed by said guest room and saw a few men fixing the hole in the empty pool, he had second thoughts. He made his way through a corridor leading towards the Healing house to see how his men were doing. As expected, the wounded soldier were in good hands, and Eomer sighed a breath of relief. He had watched how the wolf latched its fangs onto the poor soldier's horse, throwing the rider and horse brutally onto the ground.
Eomer exited the room and stood in the quiet hall. His eyes went to the last door on the right at the end of the hall. No guard was there, and his curiosity took the better of him. He quietly made his way there, and stood for a few moment to detect any sounds of movements. It was quiet, and the door was not locked. He recalled hearing that the strange guest was bed-ridden for at least three weeks.
The door was quiet as he gently swung it open. Soft sunlight came through open windows, and he could see a form lying on the bed against the wall. Eomer closed the door and walked nearer towards the bed, but kept his distance. He held his breath as he saw the sleeping figure. Such a young face! The boy could be at least seven years younger than himself. The boy's forehead was bandaged, and strands of golden hair slipped beneath the cloth. Eomer turned to the desk on the opposite wall, where the boy's items lay. He went for a closer look, finding a uniform of some sort folded neatly and clean, a few short knives embedded in hard material, and a small silver earring laid on a piece of cloth. Far near the edge, a black, round-shaped thing sat. Eomer had almost thought of it being a Palantir, but it did not seem harmless. The surface seemed soft to touch, and he reached out a hand.
"I would not do that if I were you, sir,"
Eomer pulled his hand back hastily and turned, seeing now the boy was looking at him with clear, blue eyes. He smiled gently, despite the obvious tired face.