Author's Note: For those of you who read my Death Note fanfics, I know I haven't finished them. I'm just not feeling like writing them, so I'm writing this one. I won't even pretend like there's a publishing schedule because I do this for fun. However, like the other fanfics I've written, the main character is still M but there's no connection between them. There may be similar situations but just bear with me. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy the story. ***I don't own any of Peter Jackson or JRR Tolkien's works, only my OCs***

Chapter 1: Dreams of Fire

Yawning, I reach over to my bedside table, effectively knocking a few pencils to the floor. Feeling the smooth surface interrupted occasionally by rubber buttons, I flick my wrist to allow the small monitor's remote to land in my hand facing the screen. A red light flickers to life as I turn off the end credits to the second Hobbit film (only once I was sure that Ed Sheeran's I See Fire had been completed). The room is now completely silent except for the hum of electricity from the fan spinning lazily above me.

Sighing contentedly, I lift my black sketchbook off of my lap and gently rest it on the floor against the side of my bed. Replacing the remote on the cream-colored bedside table, I reach back to remove the brown and black speckled clasp in my hair. Auburn waves fall upon my back; I comb through them with nimble fingers, pondering the film.

Being an avid reader of Tolkien's works and an artist, I naturally have quite a few critiques of the films versus the novel. While the book was meant more as a children's novel, the film can't seem to decide if it wants to be for kids or adults. I absentmindedly reach up and tug the string that hangs from my ceiling fan, effectively snuffing out the main light source, I mean, there's plenty of snot jokes, but they're mixed in with stuff like beheadings! Adjusting my slightly twisted midnight blue t-shirt, I lay down on the bed, stiff sheets rustling softly.

I'm just barely able to make out the ceiling panels with the soft dim light drifting in from the street lamp outside. My breathing slows and I imagine being on a long journey like the quest to the Lonely Mountain. I release a less than lady-like snort as I place myself in the company of hardened adventurers. Curling a stray lock of hair around my finger, I smile wryly to myself, I may be a decent sprinter and have a good memory for paths, but anything involving stamina is a nightmare! I wouldn't last a week!

Not wanting to ponder further on the discomfort of such a long trek, I turn on my side and reach for my phone. I sigh as 2:30 shines in my face, effectively blinding me for the next couple of minutes. Resigned to a half hour of trying to sleep, I find the Pandora Radio app and allow smooth jazz music to drift about the room. I replace my phone and lay on my stomach. Trying to drift off, I think instead of the individual characters of the Peter Jackson films.

Pulling the thick purple duvet over me, I lazily think through the company of dwarves, hobbit, and wizard. The last two were barely worth thinking about because I simply adored them both and there wasn't really much more to ponder. To be honest, I wasn't really able to match every face with a name. This was especially true regarding the dwarves who didn't have lines or weren't seen often. The largest hints are always facial hair and objects they carry in the films.

I snicker slightly at the memory of Bofur's ridiculous hat. I recall the kindly, wise white-bearded dwarf, I always wonder what it would be like to sit down and have a conversation with Balin, I bet he has a ton of interesting stories! Thorin was a no-brainer, all unwavering regal grace. Though I shrink a bit on the inside at how intimidating the character must be, I have to admit that he really does seem like royalty that has simply misplaced his throne.

I know that there are other members of the company related to Thorin; in fact, some of my favorite characters. Dark brown hair and a mischievous smile drifts across my mind, I always feel like I'm missing a few…

As my eyelids finally grow heavy, I can almost swear I hear a tinkling of coins as I'm embraced by oblivion.

Silence.

This is the first thing I'm aware of when my consciousness rises back into existence. It's an odd thing, I suppose, to notice the absence of something rather than a presence. Being with extraordinarily excellent hearing, I notice the almost ringing that true silence possesses. However, not even the slight hum of electricity can be heard which is extremely rare. I feel my brows pull together slightly in concentration, I can't even hear my ceiling fan, let alone the music that I had playing.

I then feel the weight of gravity- not pulling my back towards the ground like it would have had I still been laying down… but my feet. Opening my eyes, I jump a bit when I see that I'm already standing. Still in my midnight blue loose-fitting t-shirt and black shorts, I stare down at the emerald-green floor beneath my feet, my auburn hair seeming to encircle my view. Disoriented, I lower myself to the floor in order to get my bearings. Raising my eyes, I acknowledge that, had I not already been on the floor, I would have fallen onto my backside in amazement.

Square emerald-green pillars climb hundreds of feet up to a black void. Veins of glittering gold run up the corners of the pillars, as well as along the sides of the path I currently stand on. Any light is dim and ghostly, without a traceable source except for perhaps the gold itself. Simple shadows suddenly form huge voids at every crevice. The air is still and stale, having had no movement for years.

I barely breathe as I speak in a whisper, "Erebor…"

A soft, yet strong voice speaks in a wisp of an echo, "Yes, Estelwen." My jaw pops as I snap it shut, hurriedly looking around for the owner of the strangely familiar voice. "You are being shown the once great kingdom of the Lonely Mountain as it awaits its rightful ruler to return it to glory."

My eyes widening even further in recognition and I feel my mouth go dry out of, honestly, intimidation. I resist the urge to speak aloud again, Galadriel…

My sense of wonder is interrupted when a frightening though crosses my mind, Galadriel's speaking of Erebor as it was before Thorin reclaimed it. That means that Smaug is somewhere in this mountain! I lower myself into a crouch and look for a more concealed pathway to duck down, seeking some sort of shelter from the hellfire I was certain would be raining down upon my head any second now. I turn back to the other end of the hallway, fully prepared to make a stealthy run for my life, only to stiffen in amazement.

Standing at the base of a 20 foot wide doorway (I'm not sure how tall it is since the pillars disappear into the dark) is a pristine figure clothed in white. Though the films did a good job in regards to casting a human equivalent of the elven-lady, there was no possibility for the actress to capture this woman. Despite the perfect balance of her stance, I can almost feel myself smile a bit at the gentle kindness that seems to radiate from the Lady Galadriel

I hear a light chuckle reverberate in my mind, "Ah, so you are aware of what's to come, yet you seem to be surprised by my appearance." Deciding not to stay alone out in the open, I quickly pad on bare feet to the regal woman. As I approach, I take note of the simple silver circlet adorning her head, the almost silvery bell sleeves that very nearly reach the floor as she clasps her hands in front of her. Neat waves of blonde hair cascade down her elvish silver dress, pointed ears rising from her hair. Very much intimidated, my brown eyes cautiously avoid her ocean-blue gaze as she watches my approach.

I come to a stop in front of her a few feet away, shifting nervously from foot to foot, I feel like I'm supposed to bow… Maybe curtsy-? Galadriel chuckles again and one glance at her kind expression tells me that I don't need to worry about those kinds of formalities, at the moment.

I choose instead to analyze the woven patterns, much like vines, sewn into her dress at the edges of the fabric. Compulsively tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I finally pluck up the courage to ask, "My lady, what am I doing here?" I speak quietly, unused to telepathic communication.

Acknowledging my discomfort regarding means of communication, Galadriel's voice commands no less than my full attention as she answers, "The story that is about to take place for this kingdom does not belong solely to the people of your world who have heard their tales for decades." I have to resist the urge to smile like an idiot at her almost musical voice, "Much as heroic tales change from retellings, so the tales evolve themselves." She claps her hands in front of her and begins to walk silently towards the doorway, her feet making no sound upon the emerald floor.

A bit rattled by this and attempting to absorb her story, I hasten to keep pace. Mesmerized by her silk-spun golden hair drifting through the air, I barely manage to respond, "But my Lady, what does this have to do with me?"

I look around her to see if her pupils change like they would to indicate a lie, but I can only see her eyes harden in an expression of determination. She turns to face me far more quickly than I'm used to seeing from her, which tells me that she's shaken. I stop in my tracks, shocked at this new development, The Lady Galadriel, this frightened? Noticing my distress, she gives me the most forlorn expression, enough to make empathetic tears burn behind my eyes, "This story has changed, Estelwen, and I fear not for the better. Now only one with your abilities can set this journey on the right course."

I pull the hem of my midnight blue t-shirt nervously as I analyze her expression, Her face isn't changing… as if she wants me to see her vulnerability… Unused to people being so completely honest, I avert my gaze down to my feet.

Either not having time to acknowledge or ignoring my discomfort, Galadriel goes on, "It's now your duty to shepherd the story to its rightful course." A soft clinking reaches my ears, but a realization has shocked me to the core: This means- this means that I'm currently holding the fate of this entire world in my hands!

As I do my best not to hyperventilate, gentle- almost iridescent white fingers come down to firmly grip my chin. My face is slowly lifted up by the elven lady, but I find I just cannot meet her gaze. Galadriel removes her fingers but smiles in encouragement for me to speak. I look instead at her shoulder, mulling over my words. After a moment of remembering my manners, I say, "My Lady… I may know of this world, but I don't know what I can offer to save it… I don't know magic, I'm not a warrior- I'm just a stranger." I force myself to meet her gaze, unsurprised at her encouraging smile. My as well not make a fuss, she's not going to let me out of this…

Galadriel's perfect white teeth flash as she smiles, "Your power had no place in your world. You will find guidance here, but it will be up to you," She lifts a finger to point at me, the silvery bell sleeves holding so much weight with the gesture, but appearing feather-light, "to perfect your abilities if you're to help the people of this place."

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, knowing that I won't turn my back on anyone, even if I don't really know them… Lost in my own thoughts, I almost don't notice with the elven lady begins to glow with an unearthly light. Getting a nagging suspicion that the window to ask questions is running out, I reach out to her wildly. My hand passes through her dress, so I simply speak (although I forget the honorary title), "But how will I return home?! My family…" My fingers recoil into a fist as my parents, my siblings- everything I'd ever known, darts across my consciousness.

Galadriel has almost completely faded into the light, but I still had the distinct impression that she's smiling at me, "That will be a decision for you to make when the time comes. Do not fear, Estelwen, for this is not your quest alone." And in the blink of an eye- she's gone.

I blink, dazed, attempting to get my vision back after such a bright light. As I rub my eyes, a sound finally registers in my brain. Opening my eyes, I wish Galadriel had somehow taken me with her.

I turn slowly to face a glittering, blood-red mass emerging from the shadows beyond the doorway. My mouth goes dry as I take in the sight, unable to run. This is nothing like the films. This creature rises from the depths of its treasure, barely shifting the gold around it at all. The round coins sound more like rain than the roar of an ocean that I heard in the Peter Jackson movies. This dragon…, I think with a dry gulp, This dragon truly has the presence of death…

It's too dark in the cavern for me to see anything besides the glistening of scales, but a light rises from the dark. I realize that it's a fire boiling up in the dragon's throat. I watch in horror as the flame makes its way up and up and up- until it seems as though a bonfire is simply resting mid-air in the dark. It lights the long, wickedly sharp teeth, bounces off the pillars nearby and I know that it is far too late. A large golden orb opens and a pupil zeroes in on my position.

Despite the fear quickly deteriorating my insides, I find myself adjusting my body to stand tall. Despite the fear of the creature itself, I do not fear the hellfire that will soon devour me. There is a silence, much like before a storm, before the fire shoots down to burn my being. I breathe deeply and step into the flames.