Behold, as I completely destroy Lord Elrond's character through my sheer inanity. (I think I'm having fun!)

Let me tell you something I realized about my own personal nature. I swear, I'm not trying to be dramatic; I'm actually almost thrilled to have learned this about myself.

So. A recap. I had just had a near-death experience – thanks so much, middle-aged woman driving the battered Nissan – and then… what? I'd teleported. That was the only way to describe it. I'd gone from the crisp evening streets of the city to an entirely new, ornate and frankly breathtaking mystery place.

And there was a man, taller than anything I'd ever seen and possessing eyes that held lifetimes' worth of knowledge and sorrow and understanding, and he was leaning over me.

Which brings me to the personal realization part.

Evidently, when faced with a terrifying dose of the unknown, my first impulse is to shoot up, stumble over my own feet, and face whatever variable before me with the most bizarre amalgam of greeting, challenge, and plea for mercy that I have ever heard in my entire life.

"Hello?! Oh, god, hi, stay back, please! I am so sorry, I didn't mean to just crash into your house like that, please don't shoot me or hang me or leave me to die in a cellar, sir, I swear, or I'll punch you in the face. Thanks."

First of all, why. Where did I pick up that response? What good would it do if I actually ran into an axe-murderer?

Second, the tall man with the braided hair seemed completely unfazed by the word missile I'd just fired at him point-blank. Oof – double-disappointment. He didn't even blink.

"Sorry," I whispered. "You startled me."

There we go. My new friend smiled at me, the expression warmer than I expected – I almost grinned back on impulse.

"One would imagine that manifesting in an entirely new place would do more than startle you," he commented, one eyebrow making the slightest twitch upwards. "But worry not. I am not one to take offense so quickly."

His gaze cooled marginally into something almost scarily interrogative, and he continued as lightly as if we were old pals discussing the weather. Frankly, it scared the living daylights out of me.

"You understand, however, that I am very curious as to who you are and, indeed, how you are even here in my study. These are dangerous times we live in, and I would encourage you to be honest with me."

"I… wow," I said, letting my mouth run away while my brain shrieked in the background. "You're one intimidating man. Uh… should I start with my name or my social or what happened right before I poofed into your actual private property?"

"Start however you see fit," he replied simply, and settled right there next to me on the ground, looking for all the world like a king, and not like a freakishly tall dude plopped on the floor next to some oddball Trekkie who didn't have a single clue.

What can I say? I wouldn't last a day as a spy. Right there, without stopping to think about how nuts it even sounded, I spilled every last bean I had in my possession. The physics assignment, the Jake, the car accident, the strange in-between floating session that happened like a thunderclap between my head meeting the concrete and opening my eyes to a stranger in his study.

Now, okay. Here's a little secret. I had already pulled a Sherlock Holmes and analyzed everything about my settings to the best of my ability. The décor, the mannerisms and clothing the tall man wore, the strange book he had been holding since I came to. The best conclusion I came to was that I'd time travelled or something, though I couldn't say what time period I'd landed in.

But oh, boy, was that way off the mark. Because as soon as I thought to ask – where is this, by the way? – I'd prepared myself for something like London or Boston or Yugoslavia or anything besides the answer I was given. Rivendell. Not even Rivendell, USA, or Rivendell, Earth. Rivendell, somewhere so far removed from Earth that it was legitimately Middle Earth. I'd straight up gone to plaid, went full hyperspace and ended up somewhere across the entire freaking dimensional plane!

Oh, man. I could feel the beginnings of nausea prickling at the base of my stomach. Not great. So I did the only thing I knew how to do and just… kept talking, even though I could feel the ground dropping from beneath me.

I have to hand it to Mr. Rivendell, though. He listened intently and politely, even when by the end of it I was well and truly in hysterics. Not my best moment, I'll admit. But reasonable, I think, when the moment in question happens after you realize that you're not in Kansas anymore, or even in North America.

"… oh, man, oh, man, oh, man, I don't understand. I'm confused, I'm so confused and I don't even know how I got here and I don't even know where in the universe here is, and I'm sure I could come up with some theory or another but I don't have a notebook on me and my hands are too shaky to open my backpack and – oh, jeez. Jeepers, I'm so sorry. I have absolutely no valuable information for you," I wheezed weakly, looking up into his eyes. "I wouldn't even believe me, hearing half the things I said."

My regal beanpole friend inclined his head ever so slightly and let out a pensive hum.

"I think," he said finally, "that if you were setting out to deceive me, you would tell me a story that made rather more sense than that. Therefore, I will take your word as the truth, and I will seek what information I can that will aid you in your journey home."

Ooh. If I hadn't been too addled to cry, I'd be sobbing all over his nice fancy tunic right then and there. As it was, I gave him a watery smile.

"Thank you. Thanks so much. Gosh, without you I'd probably be wandering around in some cornfield looking like a lunatic. I could hug you, I really could, but I don't even know your name and that would be really weird…"

"I am called Elrond," said Elrond, finally gracing his face with a name. "And I could say the same to you, given that you have given me every name in your family except your own."

"Oh." I flushed. That was a vital tidbit I'd forgotten to mention when I was blubbering about the goats my parents owned that were named after the Sith Lords.

"I'm Julia," I introduced belatedly. "Julia Judith Schaber. My friends call me Jude or JJ, but, I mean…"

I can't begin to tell you how I was going to finish that sentence, because it was right at that point – ha-ha – where something caught my eye: that something being the honest-to-goodness Vulcan ears Elrond was sporting.

How do you even bring attention to something like this?

"Uh, Mr. Elrond, sir? Are you aware that your ears are… like that?" Oh, nailed it.

"Pointed?" Was that amusement? Oh, man, it was. "I should hope they are. I am, predominately, an elf."

Well, today was just my day for getting the socks knocked off of me. I almost slammed my head back against the floor right then and there. New discoveries? I loved them. But not when they were coming at me like swift uppercuts from a professional boxer with a vendetta, each from a different angle and with the intent to kill. I was seriously coming close to a mental breakdown.

Jeez.

I hoped Jake was getting arrested for disturbing the peace.