Kylie heard voices, and quickly jumped into the closest bush. Bad idea. Of all the bushes in this swampy place, she had to pick the one with thorns. OUCH!

"What do they live on when they can't get hobbit?" said a male voice.

She lifted her head, making a lot of noise and scratching her face with even more briers in the process. Five shapes were slowly approaching.

"Shh!" said a deeper male voice. "We are not alone."

The girl could see one of them coming closer. Four were too far off to see their height, but one was a full-grown man. The one coming towards her was the man. He saw her; she knew it. Poor Kylie could think of nothing better than to jump out of her hiding spot.

She'd had better ideas before. The man reacted much faster than she thought, drew a long steel weapon instantly. The terrified girl just put her hands up, terrified. "Wait, what are you doing with that old thing?"

The man looked about as confused as her. Had she just revealed herself to asylum escapees? Then she looked at them. All of them had very strange clothing on. The four people in the back had almost colonial looking clothes, and this man had… Kylie didn't know, she never stayed awake in history class. Medieval maybe? Maybe they were just wacky theatre people.

"Who are you?" asked the man slowly, looking at her like he'd never seen a creature like her in his life.

Kylie grew impatient. "I think I asked that question first. Who are you? Why do you have an ancient weapon like that, and... what did you do with those guys' shoes?" she cried, finally noticing the four men in the back were barefoot.

The man looked at her again, and held up his sword. "Actually, its fairly new. The elves crafted it about two years ago." He paused at the look on Kylie's face.

She snorted. "Elves?" She pictured Santa's little helpers making killer toys.

"That is what I said," he said slowly.

"Um sir, I don't know how to tell you, but elves don't actually exist."

"Yes they do!" cried one of the men (the only brunette one) in the back as he walked up to stand next to the man. To Kylie's astonishment, his head barely reached the man's waist. "I've seen them. We have even dined with them. They're real."

Kylie had forgotten the whole elf deal and turned to the small man that stood right in front of her. "I didn't know you were a midget!" she blurted out. That was rude. Thankfully the little man didn't look offended; he just looked confused.

The other three, all red-haired, came up next to the two. "A what?" asked the fat one. (Well that's not a completely fair statement; they were all fairly plump)

"A…" said Kylie, searching for a more polite word, "a dwarf."

"A dwarf! I should say not. We are hobbits."

Kylie looked at them like they were crazy. "Hobbit?" she challenged.

"Well," started the man, "they are called halflings by the race of man. They only grow to approximately three feet tall and have leathery soles on their feet. So, I did nothing with their shoes, for they need none." The man smiled.

Kylie felt herself blush. There was something wrong here. "Where am I?"

They all looked at her with concern. It actually made her feel rather uncomfortable. "Are you alright?" asked the man finally, approaching her slowly.

"I'm fine yeah... but get back!" she cried, jumping back as he approached. Talking was one thing but she still had a personal bubble.

The man held up his hands. "I apologize. But I must ask: have you hit your head recently?"

Kylie tried to remember, but she couldn't. "Don't think so."

"Do you remember how you arrived here? Are you feeling dizzy... nauseous... and... pardon me, but what did happen to your clothes?"

"What? No, no, no, and nothing's wrong with my clothes!" These were beyond doubt the weirdest people she'd ever encountered.

"But truthfully," said the brunette hobbit, "are you alright? You don't know where you are?"

Kylie shook her head. "No."

The man stood up. "You are in Middle Earth, about four days march of Bree and a twenty days from Rivendell. Does that help you?"

Kylie shook her head.

"Where are you from?" asked the man.

"Seattle. How many days there?"

It was the man's turn to look confused and shake his head. "I have traveled many leagues, but have never encountered any placed called 'Seattle'."

One of the thinner red haired hobbits (if that was what they called themselves) spoke up. "What are you planning to do?"

Kylie shrugged. What would she do? Here she was, trapped in Center Earth with no way to get out. She didn't have any snacks in her back, and the man said it was four days walk to… what was that city called again… Bree? She didn't have any money on her, although she didn't think she would be able to use American money in this place anyway. "Are there any bus stops close by or anything?"

"You can come with us!" said the fat red haired hobbit.

Everyone looked at him. "I don't know if we can manage that, Sam, we don't have a lot of food," said the red-haired hobbit that hadn't spoken yet. ('Yes,' thought Kylie, 'at least these people had normal names!')

"Pippin!" gasped the brunette ('okay, never mind,' thought Kylie). "Don't be rude!"

"Do you have any provisions in that bag of yours?" asked the man.

"Unless you count Hershey's," murmured Kylie. Clearly that name meant nothing to any of them.

"You are welcome to travel with us if you wish," said the brunette hobbit.

Kylie looked around. These people definitely had mental issues, but they were her only hope anywhere. "Sure."

"I'll introduce myself," said the brunette. "My name is Frodo Bag… Underhill. And this," he said motioning to the fat red-haired hobbit, "is Samwise Gamgee. But we call him Sam."

"And I," said the red-haired hobbit who was really worried about the food, "am Peregrin Took. But friends call my Pippin."

"My name is Meriadoc Brandybuck," said the last hobbit, "but call me Merry. It's easier to remember."

"Frodo, Sam, Pippin, and Merry," repeated Kylie, "weird names." Thankfully she mumbled the last part as turned to the man. "And you are?"

"I am called Strider. I am their guide to Rivendell."

That name still meant nothing to her. But again, what choice did he have? "My name is Kylie. Kylie Turney."