The Lord of the Rings 2: Judgment Day

(Author's note) Well, here it goes, my first crossover! This is a cross between The Lord of the Rings and the Terminator series, mainly the second movie. Please let me know what you think of my story, I'd love the feedback to improve my writing.

Part I: An Unexpected Terminator

Chapter 1

It was a clear night outside the village of Bree. The sun had set some time ago, and the stars had come out to bejewel the sky. A cold wind blew through the few trees beyond the town, the type of wind that nipped at exposed skin and drove folk indoors. Nobody was outside the wall this night. Nobody was outside the wall any night.

In one clearing amongst a thicket of oaks, the darkness was shattered as the trees suddenly lit up. A ball of light had appeared, pulsating with energy and letting off numerous sparks. Branches of lightning leapt outward into the dark. If perhaps a few people saw it from far off, they probably thought nothing of it. Just a distant figure with a lamp, they would think. But they would have to admit that it was a very bright lamp.

The ball of light slowly stopped sending off sparks, and its light faded to darkness. In the frenzy of electricity, a few branches had caught fire, though more of a smoldering that would go out quickly than anything that would last.

What little light the fires cast revealed a shallow pit in the dirt where the ball had been. Down on one knee in the pit was a completely naked man. His form bulged with muscles, his stature massive. Remaining unmoving for just a moment, he slowly rose to his feet. The only thing he had with him was a strange sort of pole. It was a shotgun, though no person in that world would know what it was. The man slowly looked to the left and to the right, moving nothing but his head. His gaze soon came to rest on the distant torchlight that belied the position of Bree.

The strange figure stared at the village for several moments, his muscles not moving, his face not diverging from the stony unemotional look it wore. He did not remain standing still for long, however. Deliberately and with no hesitation the man began walking towards the town, raising his shotgun and resting it on his shoulder. Never removing his eyes from the distant village, he just kept moving towards it at a steady pace. That was where he had to find the one he was looking for. That was where he had to find the one called Baggins.

…

The old gatekeeper was in the same bad mood he was usually in when he stayed up through the night, waiting in case someone wanted to get into the village. His job was to deal with the criminals and vagrants who wanted to get in and cause trouble. He bore it all with the same grumpiness that made him one of the least popular people in the village to talk to.

As always, he sat in the cramped gatehouse, mulling over his thoughts, sometimes dozing off. The town council wouldn't like him sleeping on the job, but he did it anyway. Why do they think they should always be the ones butting into how I do my job, when I'm the one who does it? he grumbled in his head. I'm the one who knows what the right way to do it is. I figure out the best way to deal with those thieves and scoundrels. Those council jerks don't know anything about this job. With nothing to do, he stared for a while at the torch on the wall, amusing himself by observing the dancing flames.

After sitting that way for some time, the gatekeeper got up to get a drink at his water barrel. Maybe I should just quit, he mused, then I could- his thinking was interrupted by someone pounding on the gate. While muttering something under his breath about being interrupted, he opened the door to his hut and walked outside where the west gate of the town was. He went up to the door in one side of the gate and opened the hatch that let him see who was on the other side. What he saw was a tall man staring back at him, his gaze not exactly fierce, but hard and steady. The gatekeeper was about to ask the usual stuff about who the man was and what he wanted at this time of night when he noticed that the stranger was completely naked. Oh great, some freak wants to enter the village, he thought as he stared in disgust.

"What do you want?" the gatekeeper asked gruffly.

The naked man's expression didn't change. "I am going to the Inn of the Prancing Pony." His voice had a strange accent.

"What for?"

"The details of my mission are classified. I cannot share them with you."

"Humpf. Yeah, right. You expect me to let you in this late in the evening for some 'mission' when you're in nothing but your skin?"

"Affirmative."

"Affirmative? What kind of weird talk is that?"

"I also need your clothes, and your boots."

"Oh, I can see that. There's no way I'm letting you in, you creep."

"I must warn you not to stand in the way of my mission. It could have grave consequences for you."

"Is that right? Why don't you crawl back to wherever it is you came from, bother them for a change?" The gatekeeper slammed the hatch shut on the stranger's face. Oh, the crazy vagrants I have to deal with. If I- his thought was cut short as the naked man's arm punched straight through the hatch in the door and knocked him out. He fell to the ground in a heap as the man smashed through the rest of the door with inhuman strength.

Most of the remains of the door fell on the gatekeeper's unconscious form as the stranger stepped through the now opened doorway. Laying his shotgun aside, he pulled the gatekeeper into the hut. A minute later, he emerged, wearing the keeper's clothes, and walking in his boots. With his expression never changing through all this, he picked up his shotgun and straightened to scan the town. It seemed as though nobody had heard the crash, so the now clothed man started walking down the street. His demeanor was cool and collected, his shotgun again resting on his shoulder. He continued on in the direction of the inn.

…

Past the north of the village, the two guards at the north gate were standing outside the wall, but they weren't paying much attention to their job. They were talking, laughing about the happenings in Bree.

"Hey Hildgrim, did you hear what old Butterbur did?" said one.

"No Everard, what happened?" replied the other.

"He was getting that old man who comes by every day to help him with moving some horses, when-" Everard stopped when a bright flash accompanied by a sound like thunder came from only a few stone's throw's away from the wall. The flash turned into flickering that shone off of all the trees that were out in the night. After just a moment, the flickering came to a stop and there again was darkness.

The two stared out into the night until Everard asked, "What was that?"

Hildgrim was slow to respond. "Lightning?"

"But it's a clear night."

"Well, what else could it have been?"

"I don't know, but I didn't see a bolt."

"Whatever it was, it was probably nothing. Now what were you saying about Butterbur?"

The first guard looked out into the darkness for another moment before he answered. "Uh, yeah. So Butterbur had a bunch of guests, which meant the stables were full, so… Hildgrim? What's wrong?" The second guard was not looking at his friend. He was staring away from the wall, his eyes growing wide. "Hildgrim? What do you…" Everard turned his head to look as he spoke, his voice stopping when his gaze fell on what Hildgrim was seeing. A figure was walking towards them. It seemed at first as though it was a man, but as it drew closer, Everard could see that this was no man. It was in the shape of a human, but its skin glittered in a strange way that didn't look like anything he had seen before. Then when it was closer, he could see that it had no skin, and no face. Its entire surface was a shimmering, reflecting surface, as if it had a mirror for skin.

"Everard…" Hildgrim's voice trailed off as the strange being walked right up to him. For a moment, it just stood and looked at him. Then, raising its arm, the being changed shape so that its arm was a blade, which drove through Hildgrim's chest.

"Hildgrim!" Everard shouted. He wanted to run from this thing, but he was stuck in place with fear and disbelief. The thing turned its head and looked right at him, but with no eyes. As Everard stared in terror, it began to change shape again. It formed the perfect shape of a man with clothes on, but everything was still that mirrored skin. Suddenly color spread out over the being's surface, and it was then that Everard realized that the thing had taken the appearance of his slain friend. He tried to scream, but his throat seemed constricted with fear. With a cold look in its eye, the thing extended its arm up, and the last thing Everard saw was its arm forming a blade and flying towards his head.

The figure, now appearing perfectly human, looked over its work with no change in expression. After also gazing momentarily into the surrounding darkness, it calmly opened the gate, stepped through, and shut it again. On the other side it stared vacantly down the street before walking onward, towards the center of the town.

…

Outside the Prancing Pony, the man with the shotgun had arrived, strolling under the entrance arch and up to the front door. When he entered the common room, a few people in the crowd took notice of him, but they ignored him after he walked past. A few commented about the strange thing he carried, but they soon lost interest in him, returning to the usual bustle of conversation. In the corner, the muscled man took a seat from which he could view the entire room. There he sat and watched, waiting.