DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters or the world he created. The only character of mine (Jorryn) has decided to take a holiday in Tolkien's Middle-earth. No copyright infringement on any of J. R. R. Tolkien's works is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Have you made it this far yet:) I'm sorry, but introductions must be made. The good stuff starts in the next chapter, but if you would like to get to know the main character, read this introductory chapter. Jo finds herself in a strange situation.

1

The numbness began in my legs the first day, deadening my toes so that I could no longer sense them. At first I thought it was nothing more than the cold — homes like ours were kept very cool during the sweltering weeks of summer — but when I realized that both my feet had frozen entirely, I knew something was wrong.

The feeling was not sudden; it crept, in a way. And I was soon certain that the air-conditioned rooms of my house were not the cause, because wherever I went the coldness followed, chilling my feet like ice. Thinking back, I couldn't remember anything that could be the cause of the oddity. No amount of heat or layers of socks could banish it. There wasn't a disease or fatal virus I knew about which involved cold feet, so I ignored the problem and didn't tell anyone.

A few days before the Fourth of July, my ankles felt the prickling sensation that meant a lack of blood flow, and I feared what could be wrong with me. Still, I cheerfully continued to help the five other girls I worked with set up for our yearly fireworks stand. It was a requirement of our job and a service to our community, we were told grandly by our boss. We all signed up for time slots, and a couple of girls said that they could stay at the booth the entire day. I wondered how on earth anybody could have a life so empty that they would waste a day sitting behind tables of Black Cat firecrackers and sparklers.

I was not the type to waste time or energy, and I liked to be doing something most of the time. Personally, I thought that I was fairly odd; somehow, I managed to be quiet and maddeningly loud at the same time — at least that's what my best friend had told me. I was an avid reader and writer, and a loyal fan of Edgar Allen Poe, C.S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, the Beatles, and buttered popcorn.

My life was normal enough — I lived in a sleepy little town on the edge of nowhere, where the population was compelled to turn toward books, computers, or television for entertainment. Most, sadly, went directly to the last two. Although I had nothing against personal computers or TV (I was on my computer quite often, in fact), I felt that there was a great deal more to be learned from the writings of authors.

The morning the fireworks stand opened, I could not feel the lower parts of my legs, and I had to look down to make sure my feet were still there. Our fireworks stand was set up blatantly on the main street of our town, between a grocery store and a gift shop. That morning, I was working a slot of time with a girl that was my age, Taima.

I came in to find the fireworks already set out, our boss and Taima already seated. We had covered the display tables in red and blue paper the day before, in order to achieve a patriotic effect, and today there were innumerable Roman kandles, firecrackers, champagne poppers, and rockets of all sorts for sale, readily labeled.

"Well, good morning, Jo!" the high, Southern-accented voice of our boss, Ramona, called. She smiled at me gladly, pink blush coloring her defined cheekbones. Brown hair framed a square face.

Dumping my load, I greeted the two ladies. "Did you guys do all this today?" I asked, waving at the neat displays and price labels.

"This morning," Taima affirmed. My classmate was short, drowsy-eyed, and generally puerile. Words often burst from her loudly and raucously, like the sound of a balloon popping.

I sidled around the chairs, throwing up clouds of dust on the dirty surfaces. "Sorry, I didn't know, or else I would have been here."

"Oh, that's all right," replied Ramona, her speech drawling. "Starburst was here before she went to work."

I nodded — most would think that the woman was referring to a candy, but Starburst was another girl who worked with us. "Did she sign up for any slots today?" I asked.

"She's making her grandma work the time she signed for," Taima said evilly, biting her nails. I imagined that my classmate thought Starburst's grandmother was some sort of slave.

I shrugged. "Well, okay."

Stretching, I reached across a table for the book I had set down with a couple of melting candy bars, next to my sunglasses and hat. Reading the glistening title, The Fellowship of the Ring, I opened it, the pages fluttering freely in the breeze. J. R. R. Tolkien's words were a blur of flapping chapters, and I couldn't stop a shrewd look from growing in my eyes as I remembered the Fellowship's adventures. The characters and their quest to destroy the One Ring captivated me.

Whenever I finished a particularly incredible chapter, I would close the book and turn to the nearest person, showing them the shiny cover and advising, "You really should read this!" But whomever I was speaking to would only shrug and go on to something else. There was no polite interest, no questions like "Oh? What's it about?" or "I never have, but the movie looks good," or even better, "I know! Aren't they just the best books ever written?"

Unable to put it down, I had finished The Return of the King at two o'clock in the morning one recent summer night. I had quietly sobbed and sniffled at the story's ending — not because it was sad, but just because it was a beautiful conclusion to a beautiful story. And plus, it was an ending. There was no more after that last page except for tales that could be spun in my imagination.

"Hey, where are you? You sure are dazed and out of sorts today," snickered Taima, bringing me suddenly out of Minas Tirith and Rohan and Mordor.

I grinned in spite of the numb pain in my legs. "Yeah, in more ways than one!"

"So… what are you going to be doing later?"

"I'm going to read," I said decisively, opening to "The Council of Elrond."

Taima watched disappointedly, and then slumped down in the chair yawning. "We should have brought a radio," she sighed with a groan.

That day and the next passed uneventfully, except for the gradual spreading of the strange cold up to my knees. On July 3, I signed for three two-hour slots of work time, even if I wasn't really up to it. I was more tired than I had ever been during the summer, and my mind felt muffled, as if someone had taken a blanket and stifled my brain.

I had the morning shift with another student in my grade, a girl named Rashida. She was fast-talking and canny, and usually boisterous. She had brought one of her younger girl friends, Tony, to keep her company. They had similar personalities, which meant I would have to deal with double the noise I had been expecting. Starburst's grandmother, Mrs. Singhinsen, was there as a supervisor.

When I got to the stand that morning, I noticed my two peers with an inward groan and deposited my sunglasses and sketchpad in their usual places, but I brought The Lord of the Rings with me behind the barricade of tables. My frozen feet dragged across the smooth concrete floor, and the sound was the only thing that made me aware of it. I plopped into a metal chair, saying nothing other than my usual hello. I unproductively rubbed at the useless muscles in my calves. I was sincerely worried now that I had some sort of serious condition.

Rashida wasted no time and shoved a gooey thing into my face, inquiring cheerily, "You want a Popsicle?" The evidence of the dessert was obvious around her mouth, which was stained purple.

More cold… I thought. "No, thanks."

What I wanted most was rest, but a great number of costumers were getting their fireworks for the celebration tomorrow, and the business was doing well. Halfway through my first shift, I was in great pain and could barely move without mentally commanding the dead muscles in my legs to stir.

I rushed through the costumer I was assisting and collapsed into a seat to calm my throbbing pulse, gripping the edge of a table. "What's wrong with me?" I said aloud, the words breaking.

I had a fleeting, fiery urge to get out of the oppressive building. I stood quickly, but then wavered precariously and gasped.

All week, it had been like I was standing in a rising puddle of freezing water that killed all feeling in my feet, and then in my legs, mounting progressively to my waist. When I hurriedly stood in the fireworks stand that day, the invisible puddle of icy water suddenly rose and submerged my entire form in numbness, leaving me with no sense of any other part of my body. Imaginary needles pricked each inch of my skin.

I stood, paralyzed and terrified, my arms hanging limp at my sides. Every part of me burned, and my limbs were becoming heavy, lifeless burdens. Ignorant, my friends shoved around me and continued with their work, and I stared, breathing quickly, fearing that each gasp would be my last. Continuing to breathe was the only issue I could fully concentrate on in my traumatized state.

Shrill commands in my head yanked me out of the stupor. Outside, outside, you must get outside!

In a daze, I stumbled out of the building, knocking over a metal trashcan that screeched across the floor and toppled over with a clatter. I bashed my shoulder on the doorway as I made my way out, but I didn't receive a predictable stabbing ache, and I gaped in disbelief at the metal frame.

I staggered into the grass outside and shrank into an insensitive heap. I could see the ground gleaming with my frightened tears. The one thing I could really feel was panic and horror, coursing through me in poisonous tremors that made my innards quaver. A thunderous roar filled my ears; haze fell over my vision like a sheer black curtain.

Slowly, awkwardly, I lifted a hand that hung worthlessly from my wrist, just to see if I could. To my surprise, I was still clutching The Fellowship of the Ring with white-knuckled strength, though I wasn't physically aware of it. I let my arm drop, noting how faded and transparent the skin there looked.

There was a voice calling from far off, beyond the screaming noise blasting through my skull, and the sky above was growing dark. I opened and closed my eyes once, a laborious task, and fought for breath. But then there was a suffocating weight crushing down on my chest, and I knew no more.