(A/N: very much unedited)

I woke up in a turkey baster. Wait, no, I woke up to a sound similar to a turkey baster being, um, squeezed?… What's a turkey baster again? Huh. Whatever. I miss turkey. And meat. The edible plants and fruit the trees gave me on occasion really don't cut it anymore. The forest floor doesn't cut it as a mattress substitute (What's a mattress again?). Baring my birthday suit doesn't cut it for me. The weird whiffer-like noise, I now recognize as animalistic breathing, doesn't cut it for me as an alarm clock (...alarm clock?) either.

Waking up, I came face to face with what can be described as a large avian creature. Staring intensely at me. Why do I feel like I should know something about him? Thoughts aside, I was not expecting to become bird fodder of all things. What was it doing here? Is this normal? What is happening? WHAT IS HAPPENING?! My inner anxiety showed on my face as the big bird flapped its gigantic wings predatorily in a startled retaliation to my panic. Run. I need to go. The creature had different plans than mine as it gripped a vice hold on my ankle. It rocketed off to the high skies in one mighty swoop of its flappers with me in tow. Greatest way to wake up, definitely would recommend this method. Child friendly too.

What a scenic view. That is something I would say if I weren't dangling by my ankle, covered in my own fear-caused urine, and busying myself with belting out my screams of mortification for who knows how long. When I flicked my own pee at the bird in anger, it dive bombed to the land and dunked me in the river out of retaliation. I don't care, nothing matters, the wind vacuums all of my wails and I am one drop away from imminent death to even risk flailing in its talons. The pressure of the howling wind, the knotted wooden crown aching my head, the indignant squawks of my captor, the pressing feeling like I am missing something, it was all too much. So when I saw a marching dark clump of what I sensed to be orcs (and fouler things) past the mountain range on the precipice of the horizon, my mind caved. Blank. And I hope I'll remain blank for a long, long time.

I am afraid. "...two seven-day." I have been afraid of anger for as long as I can remember. "...has not stirred..." But now I am afraid of more than I ever acknowledged before. "...another round of healing…" If I open my eyes, how many more fears will I discover? How will I endure them? "... try again…" How? Even if I knew how, I wouldn't be chomping at the bit to deal with them. To wake up. So here I will stay, just for a little longer.

Warmth. A cocoon of it. Like a crackling fireplace. What's that pressing on my shoulder? It feels like a…

'HAND,' my realization jolted my body out of my sleep and I instinctively launched into something… until I realized it was a someone. People. I finally reached people.

'I hope I'm back home.' I bawled at the thought. I haven't cried this much or this hard since I was a kid… wait... I was a kid again… in my dream… yes, that's right… my desires came to fruition in the most twisted way. I can readily say I'd take the grievances of aging for the rest of my life than to go through what I experienced there. There. In Middle-Earth. I remember now. The trees, my journey, the avian creature… the... eagle! It was an eagle! And I know now he was not a threat. They are Arda's natural aide for the people who fight for the good side. I frowned at the thought. But how did he know where to come to my "rescue"? Why did he come to my "rescue"?

'The Black Forest called for help. For you Manwë heard. For you Gwaihir came.' Huh, a Valar god and lord of the eagles…. wait, that wasn't the body I pummeled talking. It sounded like it was coming from… I dried my tear stained cheeks to open my eyes and touched my vibrating wood woven crown.

'Eryn Vorn is with you little one. We always will.' This means three things. One: The crown is still on my head because of some woodland magic. It also can talk to me inside my head. Two: Magic crown equals still in Middle-Earth. Three: Being in Middle-Earth equals I'm not home. Great, here comes the waterworks. Again. Getting over my brainwashing shock and coping mechanisms doesn't mean I can get over homesickness as well.

Through my sniffling, I heard a chortle resonate from the human I now can distinguish as an older male. In brown. And a pointy hat…

"Radagast the Brown?" I whispered. I mentally stand corrected on the "human" part.

He didn't draw his attention away from his healing of a baby bird as he spoke to me.

"Hmmm. You are a unique case, yes you are. I almost thought you would not wake. Such a deep sleep. So deep."

Why did hearing him talk to me sound… weird? Almost… foreign? Aside from his vocal mannerisms, his skittish behavior was always slightly humorous to me in the Hobbit trilogy. Now it just reminds me of my ADD kids back home, where I belong.

"'Twas a harrowing experience I endured. Why did the eagle land me here?" Now that I mentioned it, I speak weirdly too. I never noticed while talking with the trees because that was like tuning into a radio with a magical element. This physical conversation however felt like my mind and tongue had different languages. My mind thinking as I usually do (added with my new psyche of child) while my tongue almost translates my thoughts into an angelic-like language.

My crown halted my musings with nothing louder than a tentative whisper.

'The interloper. The last elfling. Your duty. Duty.'

I love how vague my sentient accessory is. Maybe the wizard can give me more information. I saw Radagast's ears twitch while the crown telepathically spoke but got no other acknowledgment or response. He flitted around his hut tending to the animals, occasionally sending glances my way and dazing into space. It seems he is as disengaged with the Free-People as I learned him to be. I wish that I could disengage as well, that I could spectate like I did when watching the franchise, but apparently I have a duty? As an interloper and… elfling? WAIT. I brought my hand to my ears. They were pointed. I looked at my skin again. It was glowing, albeit dimmed from my intentional suppression of it. I could talk with trees and can sing to heal them. I may be matured and aged as a human at 61 years old, but in an elf-form I would still be a kid at the exact same age. And Radagast and I sound peculiar because my mind and tongue actually do hold two separate languages: English and Sindarin… the language of the elves. It all makes sense now. The last thing I remembered in California was wading into the ocean. I just felt a need to swim far into the sea. Then I woke up in Eryn Vorn near the shore. Was I sent here magically?

'Interloper blessed by Manwë. Sent by the Valar.' Thanks for the info you vague crown.

Great. The fact that my talking head piece can hear my thoughts is something I do not know whether to count as a blessing or curse. Recalling this world's pension for destiny and adventures, I probably won't go home until I find the reason I am here and fulfil said reason.

Radagast hummed during his newest space cadet episode until he snapped out of it to meet my eyes with a steely gaze. I will never admit it out loud, but when someone as flighty as him manages a heavy stare, it's unnerving. I fear that he may confirm my suspicions. I fear. Fear.

"Before the third age told. End Fire and Gold. Beware the Dark Mountain among the Trees. See to the Entwives of Old. Align Durin and firstborn to be free. Or never return from the Interloper Destiny."

If I wasn't swirling in a cocktail of emotions I would have sighed at how vague my prophetic guidance was. Looking at Radagast now that he snapped back to his neurotic self, I calmed my shaking. My resolve steeled. Middle-Earth here I come, California is waiting for me. The home I will return to. My family I will see again. Who knew duty and homesickness could go hand-in-hand?