A/N:

Special thanks: to Kaladelia Undomiel for beta-reading this chapter and story! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit, I only borrow ideas from it for fun and the amusement of others. May JRRT forgive me.

"After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb."

-Nelson Mandela

Chapter Two: The Girl of the Future

Gandalf was not the sort to be angry at fate. Very often there was a reason, time, and place for everything and everyone. However seeing the strange young woman with the unmistakable mark about her that meant he had summoned her, made him more than a little annoyed at the powers that be.

He knew better than most not to underestimate the fairer sex, but unfortunately women were not seen as capable as men by many, and though dwarves were more lenient than the race of men with their women-folk, he did not think her presence would go over well with Thorin and Company.

It would be difficult, and require explanation on his part. For he had no doubt that she was needed if the Valar had chosen her and spirited her away to the Shire. He didn't know exactly where she came from. She reminded him of something, very familiar and yet something so far in his past that he hardly remembered it.

She certainly looked strange, and that would have to be remedied, and soon. The strange bag he had hefted on to his shoulder was an eye catching scarlet red with a white R on it, and her clothes were strangely fitted and brightly colored. The bag on her back also had strange fastenings and shape. Her hair was cut shorter than most hobbit men!

He also had to figure out exactly what it was about her that made her needed. She didn't have the build for a warrior shield-maiden. She was neither fat nor overly thin and had the look of one who was well fed. Her hands, despite being dirty currently, were soft and unlined. Though she was young, he guessed her age was between twenty and thirty, she did not seem to be naive.

She was clearly mistrustful of him; which was a good thing considering the circumstances. She would have to be daft to be anything but suspicious. Especially if she was from as far away a place as he thought she might be.

It was hardly another hour before they started passing by the little farms nestled between the hills of the Shire. The hobbits they passed gave them mistrustful looks and a few glared at him in particular. He noted that Holly was fascinated by them, though she had the good grace not to stare. Her eyes also flickered over the homes set in to the hills, and the little chimneys rising above with a peculiar look on her face.

It was well past midday by several hours when they reached the inn. Neither had spoken to the other expect for passing comments about the weather and their surroundings.

It wasn't too busy inside, but there were a fair number of people in the room beyond the front room sitting at tables and a bar. No stairs, everything seemed to be on the ground level with several hallways branching off from the main area. The desk before them had a cheerful fellow who helped them quick enough. Holly had protested briefly when the old man paid for a room for her, but it was half-hearted at best.

She removed her backpack from her shoulders, stretching a bit to relieve some of the ache. The inside of the place was warm and brightly lit from a number of sources, but none of them electric. Try as she might, she couldn't make out a single cable or sign of electricity. The old man gave their things to one of the short people before she could protest, and he huffed under the weight of them but carried them off. She was more and more perturbed by her surroundings, and was easily led in to the eating room of the inn, seemingly too dazed to react too much by the goings on around her.

Gandalf noted how upset she seemed and tried not to startle her anymore while he led her to the dining area. He had heard her stomach rumbling on their walk and from the pinched look on her face he surmised that she hadn't eaten in awhile. However with every step she seemed to grow worse.

In fact she was. Everything seemed off and strange. It was strange because it was too real. She was surrounded by small people with very authentic looking pointed ears and furry feet, with veins, and calluses and tendons...and as they had passed homes she'd gotten a glimpse to some of the insides and the details in everything.

The bricks were crumbling in the way only years and years of time could make them, the roads were well worn by many feet...The amount of money it would cost to deceive someone on this level was astounding. She had already started to feel the doubt placed in her by the old man niggle at her heart, but as she followed him it began to swallow her whole.

The old man was guiding her about and she let him, too engrossed in her thoughts to do otherwise. A little man in the inn bumped in to her startling her badly, "Beggin' your pardon Miss!" he nodded at her, his curly hair bouncing. She squinted at his ears until he began to frown. "It's okay." she replied, jerking her eyes away from the unnatural pointed shape. "Sorry," she added, not wanting to seem rude, "I'm a bit out of it today."

A smile lit the man's face and he patted her gently on the arm before bustling off. She watched his furry feet carefully for a seam of a prosthetic. Surely they couldn't be real? How many little people did the world have that were willing to pose as hobbits? It was...too much to process.

"This way. Better get something to eat." The old man said, guiding her in to a seat at one of the table out of the way of the rest of the customers there.

She stared at the obviously worn table and poked it with one finger, tracing the grain of the wood without really thinking about it. Wax spilled from candles had built up over time and stained an area of the table near an unlit candle. There was also a burn where a candle had obviously fallen over. The other tables she glanced at seemed to be in similar states.

She noted all these little details, and she began to feel dizzy again. Hysteria rose once more and she struggled to not laugh, cry, or throw up. The plate of wholesome food placed before her by a server brought no positive increase to her appetite, despite her hunger from earlier.

"Are you quite alright?" he asked her, jolting her out of her thoughts.

"No," she said honestly. "I'm far from alright." She flinched when a tankard of something was placed beside her, and she stared at it dully.

"Better to talk later, without prying ears. Eat up now." He started to eat his own meal while she hesitated.

She wanted to protest, and to get angry with him, but one sharp look from the old man was enough to maker her stop those thoughts. She ate slowly, and soon her stomach settled. The ale was not bad, and she drank it all quickly, wishing for water since she was already a little dehydrated. It wasn't terribly strong, but she waved away another...hobbit...with a pitcher not wanting a refill.

The old man had removed a pipe from some pocket, tamping tobacco in it, and she gasped when he lit it with a flame that seemed to spring from his thumb.

"Y-You..." She started, but he shot her another look that had her shutting her mouth.

Holly shook her head in disbelief and decided to stare at her plate. Her rising hysteria wasn't doing her any good. She needed to keep her head in place despite the weirdness of her situation. Maybe later she could sneak off and find a phone, or use her own.

She buried the sinking feeling that there weren't going to be any phones in this place.

She felt a prickling at the back of her neck and turned her head to find a short man with an enormous beard, funnily enough braided, and an axe on his belt, staring at her. She blinked at him, and blushed, looking back to her plate.

A dwarf, her mind supplied, even as it sent her heart beating madly again.

"Hm. You're gathering too much attention. If you're finished, we should retire away from here for a while." the old man rumbled, standing up with his pipe and looking down on her.

"Oh. Right." she said stupidly, realizing her purple hoodie with the yellow Starship logo across the front, jeans, and rubber-soled boots probably did look very funny to everyone. Hah and they looked really weird to her. She rose to her feet, and followed the old man out. So far she refused to acknowledge him by his name in her thoughts.

It was too ridiculous.

She took a few steadying breaths as she followed him out of the room and away from prying eyes down another hall. He asked another passing hobbit for directions and they soon were situated in a nice little room. The room had a bed, table, and fireplace and cozy carpet and quilted bedspread.

She fingered the quilt and noted her bags had been placed off to the side. The furnishings here were in good shape, if a little worn, and she was struck again by their authenticity. The hearth was blackened by many fires, and the carpet had a worn spot in one corner.

The old man settled in a chair and continued to smoke. To her amazement, the smoke turned into multi-colored rings that danced about, then a butterfly appeared, and a ship. She stared at them with her mouth open. The butterfly drew near her and landed on her hand. She could feel the slight brush of air from its smoky wings. It took off and she flinched as it vanished in to the ceiling.

"If you just accept that everything is real, you will avoid quite a bit of mental pain." the old man advised her, the stem of his pipe between his teeth.

"I can't!" she snapped at him, fisting her hand in to the quilt, "It's just impossible. I must be insane. I-I shouldn't be here." She trembled and finally slumped against the bed and sat down on the floor, drawing her knees to her chest.

He blew another cloud of smoke and then tapped his pipe on the table.

"Perhaps, we should begin at the beginning. Where are you from?" he asked, laying his staff aside and removed his pointed hat to lay it on the table.

She closed her eyes. "New Jersey. The United States of America."

There was a pause while he processed that. Inwardly Gandalf sighed. He had heard of no place bearing that name in Middle Earth. Well he should know as a guardian of Arda. Bits and pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, as incredulous as it seemed. He felt he had a pretty good idea where, or rather when she was from.

"How did you get here?"

She squeezed her arms tighter around her knees and pressed her face in to them, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks.

"One moment I-I was at the train station, waiting for my mother to pick me up. It was December and freezing, and then I turned around and I was in some forest on top of a hill." She related the story to him, her tears getting worse.

"It was winter?" He asked and she looked up to glare at him, "Yes. It was December. I was going home for the holidays from school."

"School? At your age?"

She felt angry again, and she wiped her face harder with her sleeve then she meant to.

"Yes. It's not weird for people my age to be in school. I was at University, studying for my degree in anthropology, and women and gender studies." she snapped at him.

"How did I get here? You claim to have summoned me, but how the fuck could I be in a fictional place? It's not possible! There's no such thing as hobbits, and dwarves, and fucking wizards...a-and magic." She swore, rising to her feet and pacing.

He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off, slamming her hands down on the little table, her eyes flashing with anger.

"You expect me to believe you're Gandalf? The wizard who helped the Fellowship of the Ring? Freaking Frodo and freaking Aragorn son of Arathorn?!" She practically shouted at him, pointing an accusing finger.

Alarm shot across him and he almost felt his mouth fall open. She should not know that name. Aragorn was known only to a privileged few. Though the rest of what she had said was nonsensical to him, it was clear to him she had foreknowledge somehow.

She opened her mouth to continue her tirade but he hastily cut her off, "Enough! There is time enough for childish tantrums when it is safe to do so! It is simply not safe for you to continue!" He thundered, standing suddenly and seeming to take up a whole lot more space very quickly.

It was so like the moment where he cowed Bilbo in the Lord of the Rings book and movie that she felt her heart froze. She felt her jaw go slack and fumbled in to the other chair, fighting the urge to apologize.

His eyes flashed and she felt herself go cold all over. It suddenly occurred to her that shouting at him was probably not a smart thing to do.

She was still tense as he seemed to shrink back in to himself and take his seat once more. "How did you come by the knowledge of that name? He is but a child." He asked her, keeping her beneath a sharp gaze even as his voice softened.

"Th-the books," she stuttered, "I mean they're famous, the books, the movies. They're some of my favorite stories," she paused and looked at him earnestly, leaning forward slightly, "But they're not real. They're fantasy, make-believe."

The pitying look he gave her made her feel worse, and the tears she'd been trying to hold back made a reappearance.

"I mean how can everything look so real? The ears, the h-h-hobbits, that dwarf, you...I c-can't..." she trailed off, gripping her head and leaning heavily on the table, "It's not possible to travel to another world." Holly said as firmly as she could, though her voice cracked and trembled.

Gandalf regarded her for a moment and shook his head, finally sure.

"Not another world, no. However time is more relative than you think."

She looked at him, stunned. Time. Time was...that made sense, much to her growing horror. The evidence presented to her was hard to refute. The climate change, the acts of...of magic by the old man, the fire, the sense that something was different about him, the very real looking hobbits, dwarf, and lack of modern things. Her heart didn't truly believe they were anything but real.

Traveling back in time would explain the stars, explain everything weird and wrong. Didn't...didn't Tolkien write that these stories were from long ago. Oh god, how long ago? At least over ten thousand years, probably tens of thousands of years...

In denial, she pulled her phone out again and stared at the empty service bars. She dialed 9-1-1 in desperation, and then her parent's number, of course her phone simply cut off the call after a minute and the battery dropped lower.

She let it fall from her hands to clatter on the table, feeling numb.

I'm at a crossroads, a precipice, a point of no return...I can lose my mind, or I can accept it and move on. But...my family, my life. Oh god. Middle Earth...no...no...I... Her thoughts scattered and she clenched and unclenched her hands.

Can I go back?

Gandalf brooded over the table, and muttered under his breath, seemingly to himself while she slowly regained control of her panic.

"You mean you yanked me back in time?" Holly asked, her voice filled with despair, "Can...can I go back?"

Gandalf looked at her, and she knew. Knew before the words crossed his lips.

She wasn't going home ever again.

She was in shock, he was sure.

She had crawled in to the bed and hid under the quilt, occasionally sobbing. Her heart was surely broken, and the responsibility for that lay with him, and heavily upon his own heart.

Some time passed, and he called for tea and some food.

The matter at hand still needed to be discussed. The meeting was in two days, and he still had to meet their burglar.

She rose without prompting when the tea was delivered and accepted a cup from him, settling back in her seat. She was quiet and lost in her thoughts, but no longer crying. Her hands gripped the cup so tightly her knuckles went white.

She stared as another hobbit laid a fire in the hearth for them and he let her get lost staring into the flames.

The tea was cold before he decided the time was right to talk.

"I said when we met on the road that I intended to help you. I do. Your fate is my responsibility. However you were brought here for a purpose."

His words lay heavily in the room, hung between them. Her eyes slid to his, and he was slightly relieved to see they were not totally empty.

"To ask more of you when you have lost everything is cruel, but ask I must."

"You want me to go on the quest to Mordor?" she asked, wrinkling her forehead and going white.

Another sharp stab of alarm filled him.

"The quest," he began, "is to reclaim Erebor. I would not ask anyone to go to that cursed land."

She blinked at him, and realization lit her eyes. Her face regained a little color.

"You will," she said with something akin to grim satisfaction, "Right to the heart of Mount Doom." It obviously pained him to think of sending someone there, and right now she would do anything to make him feel even a little of the pain she felt.

His eyes closed heavily, even as his mind spun with implications.

"I beg of you to tell me no more. If indeed your stories are true, then the knowledge you hold is quite dangerous. Do not tell me of ill, or of triumphs. It is better I do not know." He impressed upon her the seriousness of it, "Nor anyone else." he added as an afterthought.

She looked at him then and shifted uncomfortably, "If I could save someone great pain? Or save lives? What about then? Why should I keep my knowledge to myself?" she turned her head to look back at the fire, "Should I stand by and let sad things happen for the greater good?"

He hesitated telling her yes. It dawned on him that maybe that was why she was here, to change things. Had he not worried over the end of the line of Durin? Hadn't he asked for someone to help prevent that.

Who was she, what did she possess that made her the answer?

"Then you're going to let me decide?" Her voice cracked when he didn't answer right away, and she looked terrified at the thought, "I-I'm not great in any way. I'm not a wizard. I'm just me."

"No," he replied heavily, "It shouldn't have to be your burden, but foreknowledge is dangerous, however you came to have it. Keep it to yourself. I asked for someone to help save the line of Durin. Do not try to change major events that must happen...though I doubt that you would be able to. Matters of fate seem to have a way of working out." he added thoughtfully.

It did not comfort her much. The grief she had felt upon learning she couldn't go home still pained her. Worse than anything she'd felt before, but she had pushed it away. She needed to make a life here. She needed to move forward. Her knowledge was her greatest resource.

She knew, some things had to happen. She was still wrapping her mind around Erebor. She had assumed...well in fanfiction all the girls ended up on the quest to destroy the one ring. She snorted. Oh god, she was a Mary Sue.

She was a good...was it a century? A little less than that? Before the fellowship was formed. Bilbo hadn't even found the ring yet.

"Erebor. The line of Durin. Thorin, Fili, Kili..." she tried the words out, and felt another chill go through her. Gandalf looked at her sharply.

"You know then? Of this quest as well?"

The movies were foremost in her mind. Why, she'd seen the last one only a few days ago. She felt her chest squeeze painfully. She had no doubt that if this quest was real, it would follow the events of the book. She had a sudden urge to write down everything she could recall. She had re-read the book a few months ago, and the events and differences were still in her mind.

"Of course, in more detail than you might think." she replied, about to explain more, when the words died on her tongue. She couldn't tell him. She thought with rising anxiety. Not anyone. It would be so difficult, a look, a word, and she could give it all away. I can't save them all! She thought despairingly. Thorin had died defending Erebor, and his nephews along with him.

Another thought struck her, "I could die. I very well may die." Her chest felt tight again, and a little voice in the back of her mind asked if that would be so terrible. It was a testament to her grief that the thought even occurred to her. She pushed the idea of willful suicide away with disgust.

Gandalf didn't reply, but he was looking at her closely.

She didn't believe in fate. It very much was against everything she stood for. The idea that everything would come out the way it had to, that one's path was already decided, was terrifying to her. She believed in hard work and making yourself be what you wanted to become; changing things through your own actions.

"I don't want to go." she whispered, though she didn't see another option. Where would she go? What would she do?

She was startled when Gandalf reached for her hand and held it in his own across the table. "There is a reason you're here. Never doubt that. Hold to it. I will do my best to see that little harm comes to you, and that you will have a home after everything is through." he promised, and his touch made her feel steady, like he had injected her with courage.

She clung to his words as he pulled away. A reason. A time to every purpose under heaven.

She was quiet for a few more moments. It was all sinking in, and possibilities were spinning in her head. No matter what he said, she knew she wasn't going to be completely safe from harm. There was little choice though, and maybe, just maybe...her presence could make a difference.

It was hard to believe it, but she didn't think she could let herself believe otherwise or she might just fall completely apart in to a gibbering mess of terror and despair.

"You are convincing Thorin." She demanded, looking back up at him.

Gandalf suppressed a chuckle, despite the seriousness of everything they'd spoken of and her revelations. She was special, he could tell already. She had a stronger will than he'd seen in the race of men for a very long time.

He left her then for his own bed, knowing exhaustion would keep her from running. And good sense. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. He would do his best by her.

He knew she was still angry with him, but in time he hoped to earn her forgiveness.

A few notes on the chapter:

Aragorn would be around ten years old at this point. I don't think it would be weird for Gandalf to know of him as his mother and he would be in the care of Elrond in Rivendell at this point in Middle Earth's history and a human being raised by elves would certainly catch the attention of a wizard. He would of course not know Frodo yet.

Too many stories have the main oc character simply accept their position too quickly. I certainly would freak out if I suddenly found myself in Middle Earth, despite how much I love the stories. The best exceptions I can think of are Don't Panic! By boz4pm and Home with the Fairies by I-Mushi. Both are excellent stories to check out in the LotR fandom.

Though I'm trying to be canonical as possible, I'm taking a few literary liberties. The common tongue is not the same as English, but let's just say the Valar were trying not to be too cruel to poor Holly.