Fanfiction. As an seventeen-year old girl, it was a surprise to no-one that I spent many quiet evenings reading pieces of fan-written literature when I could have been doing other things, such as finishing my homework or chatting with my friends. It was almost expected, in this day and age. But while it was no surprise, some part of me felt somewhat embarrassed to be found reading it. Perhaps it's reputation for rather inappropriate content, poorly written stories or amateurish grammar caused the redness to rise to my cheeks whenever my mother or brother peered over my shoulder and said, "Oh, reading fanfiction again?"

I didn't read fanfiction for the risque content or for creative, original stories. No. I came for a different reason entirely. Hundreds upon hundreds of fanfictions are about normal girls like myself being whisked away into the stories, living a new and adventurous lived surrounded by wonderful characters. And that is what I craved. Perhaps I was embarrassed to be found wanting more than what I had, or could ever have. Is it really so strange, to crave an exciting life? Don't tell me you've never dreamt about piloting a fighter jet from Star Wars and bringing down the Death Star. Don't tell me you've never dreamt about discovering your own Narnia, and becoming Queen or King of a mystical land. Don't tell me you've never dreamt you were in a new exciting world, being whisked away on all kinds of adventures. We've all had those dreams, but we've all had to accept that they will never take place.

My life in total was a boring affair. I woke in the mornings at six. Showered and sucked down breakfast before racing off for the bus. I would spend all day in school struggling to keep up, then ride the bus home once more to do homework, eat, then sleep, and awake only to repeat the process. I had few friends, since I am one who can be described as 'anti-social'. There was nothing wrong with my social skills, I simply preferred to spend my time alone.

As I write this, I now see why fanfiction was such a good escape from daily tedium. My life was not exciting, and living through the eyes of another character was about as close as I could get to having my own adventures with the characters I loved.

Now, please don't believe I had a fanfiction addiction. I had hobbies. I enjoyed gossiping with what few friends I had and I was, if I do say so myself, a blooming writer. At most times, a novel sat half-finished upon my desk. I did fine in school and was considering my future in a college for social anthropology. But non of that could distract my mind from the wonderful adventures I could be having.

I was sitting on my bed one evening, reading a story about a girl who disappeared into the land of The Hobbit. I was a huge fan of the book, and the movies were some of my absolute favorites. I could not think of a more perfect world to visit. Middle-Earth, where the elves live deep in their glowing woods and men sit drinking late into the night. Where dragons hoard gold and hobbits curl up in their holes on cold winter nights.

There was a knock on my door, "Come in," I called, looking up from my computer screen.

My mum stuck her head in and gave me a smile, "You'll want to head to bed soon, love. School tomorrow."

I nodded, looking longing down at the words on my screen. "Ten more minutes," I said, "Then I'll go to bed. 'Kay?"

My mum nodded and said, "Goodnight, dear," before withdrawing her head and closing the door quietly.

Eagerly I jumped back into my story. The girl in said story, who was the same age as myself, was valiantly fighting off an orc when finally I closed my computer and set it aside. My eyelids would no longer stay open. I slid down and nestled into my blankets, clicking off the light by my bedside table.

A crack in my window shades revealed the night sky outside, but the light pollution kept all but the brightest stars from being seen. Once I had gone camping with my family out in the boondocks of Utah where lights were few and far between. Both the moon and the myriad of stars were enough to see by, and the Milky Way stretched across the sky like a smear of chalk. It was bewitching.

I wanted to see those stars every night. I was sure that such stars could be seen in Middle Earth. In fact, many tales were told about Middle Earth's stars. They must have been beautiful for the elves to write such songs and tales and love them so. I wanted to see them. Oh how I wanted to lay in the grass and star up at Middle-Earth's stars, and sing songs with the elves and chant with the dwarves, to hike with the men and women and feast with the hobbits.

But I knew deep in my veins that it could never be, no matter how hard I wished.

If only I had known then what I know now. Now, years later, I wonder how things could have been different. If I had known, so many hardships could have been avoided; so many sorrows could have been spared. But alas, I cannot change time.

And that is where I will begin my story.