The Return to Innocence

A fanfiction by MushrooomsPTook

Disclaimer: I own nothing. You might as well say it owns me!

The Stranger

"Nothing, indeed, but the possession of some power can with any certainty discover what at the bottom is the true character of any man." -Burke

I woke up the next morning with a pulsing headache. I had arrived home late last night from the hospital after having little success in solving the riddle of who had rearranged the letters in my father's message to me. Upon entering the house, I found Mitch sitting in a chair, reminding me what time it was and how much I had worried my mother. He also said he thought it would be best if he or my mom drove me to the places I wished to go instead of borrowing Mom's car. "For your own security, you understand," he explained. "If you got stopped in your mom's car and they found your pockets full of knives..." He trailed off when I narrowed my eyes at him.

I didn't fall asleep until sometime after three that morning, and I would have slept longer, except the sounds coming from the kitchen were so noisy that my headache grew worse by the minute. I figured Mom was upset and had lost her cool while making breakfast.

Deciding it would be better to get up rather than wait for the noise to pass, I rolled out of bed and rubbed my eyes. I scratched my arm and yawned as I lazily opened the door to head downstairs. But as I took a step, my foot fell on something scratchy and I heard a crinkle. I bent down and lifted a note, yawning again as my eyes fell over each word.

Alayna, went out to do some shopping.

Help yourself to breakfast.

Love, Mom

I looked up when I heard the sound of glass shatter and I felt something uneasy rise in my chest. I slowly crept downstairs and stretched my neck as far as I could to peer out the window that viewed the front lawn, thinking maybe Ben skipped school today. I could see the driveway, but no cars were parked there. I froze when I heard feet shuffling in the kitchen, the refrigerator door opened, and the contents inside were being moved around.

I glanced quickly around me for anything that would make an ideal weapon against a burglar. If I had my knife, I would've whipped that out first, but I had left it upstairs, along with the distant thought that nothing adventurous would happen to me this morning. I slunk myself against the wall and rested long enough to come up with a plan. I could run outside and call the police, but (I sighed), I left my phone upstairs. It could be too late by the time I got to the top and came back down, and I would need to have some sort of description of the guy.

I held my breath. It had gone silent in the kitchen, and I dreaded the possibility that the burglar knew I was just around the corner. I looked above me in desperation and bit my lip. Mitch's prized baseball bat was suspended on the wall just low enough that my fingertips could reach it if I tried. I remember last year he showed it to me and said he fought tooth and nail to get it off Ebay, shoveling out a pretty $1,000 out of his pocket for his efforts. It was signed by a hero of his, Yogi Berra, and although I knew very little about the sport, let alone the man, I figured a cracked baseball bat would be worth saving thousands of more household possessions. I extended my hand upward and stretched myself until I was on my toes. I heard the faint footsteps again as the intruder went to open a cupboard. My eyes flickered briefly in the direction of the sound and I winced as I stretched a little further, so that my index finger grazed the surface of the bat. I held my breath as I tried to slide it off the pegs, and after a few strokes, the head of the bat fell between the pegs and I opened my arms to catch it.

I allowed myself a couple of deep breaths as I shrunk back to my normal size, readying the bat in my hands. For such a noble prize, it sure was dusty, and I fought the urge to sneeze. As I neared the kitchen, I could see a shadow painting the floor that reached to the dining room table. I clenched the bat in my sweaty fists, taking shallow breaths, and inched myself around the corner.

I turned my head and saw the kitchen a disaster. Eggs were everywhere and flour dusted the cupboards. Something had broken and the shards of glass lay all over the floor, while pots and pans covered the counters. The refrigerator door was opened and a red liquid was dripping out of it. At the far end of the kitchen, I saw the back of a man, whose left arm clung to a cane, while his right arm was high over head, digging through a cupboard. I bit my lip and swiftly moved myself so that I was standing just outside the kitchen. "Don't move," I breathed, raising the bat.

Surprisingly, the man did not immediately turn around, but continued his quest as if he already knew of my presence. "Ah," he said, opening another cupboard door. "You're just in time. I was trying to looking for something edible, but I can't seem to find anything I fancy."

I blinked and stared for a moment, allowing the bat to loosen in my grip. I recognized the accent of the stranger, but didn't recognize the man himself. I licked my lips and then tightened my hold on the bat again, readying it into position. "Don't...Don't move!" I repeated.

A sigh left the man and he closed the cupboard. He raised his right hand and I grimaced when I saw the long fingernails. His sleeve fell slightly, revealing a circular tattoo on his wrist. I felt a slight vibration in the floor beneath my feet that jolted up my legs and into my arms. The bat began to tremble in my fists. At first it was barely noticeable, but then it grew so much that it was shaking my whole body. I held it out in front of me, trying to steady it, when it suddenly snapped in half.

1"You know, Miss Porter," he said turning around, "it's rather rude to attack a man while his back is turned." My mouth dropped open as his yellow eyes found mine, and I realized in terror that I was looking at the man I'd met at the airport in Chicago.

"You," I whispered. "How...how do you know my name?"

"Well, it wasn't very hard to guess. I'm assuming the box that was mailed here is from your address, is it not?"

I didn't say anything for a while, and a smile slowly spread across his face. "Who are you?"

"That seems a little inappropriate to ask, now doesn't it? We just met, and I only share those details after I've known someone for a while. But let me put it in simpler terms. I'm a friend, or an enemy, depending on how you perceive me to be."

I bit my lip as my nostrils flared. "What do you want! If it's money, you can talk to my step-dad, but I have nothing, and neither does my mom."

He laughed as he waved a hand at my comment. "I'm not interested in money. I told you I'm looking for something to eat. Now, let's consider our options. Which do you prefer?" He pointed to two cereal boxes that stood on the counter next to the stove. "Frosted mini wheats, or Cap'n Crunch? I like the picture on the second box, but that's me. What do you suggest?"

"I'll take the third option, for you to get the hell out of my mom's house!"

The man's grin widened as he waved a finger at me. "Temper, temper. You know, at first, I thought I had the wrong person, but I stand corrected. You're living up to your reputation at last. I have to say, though, five years can really change a person, and let's face it. You're no exception."

"WHO ARE YOU!" I shouted at him.

"I told you, I don't share intimate details with people I don't know."

"Well, you seem to know me well enough."

"You have yourself to thank for that." I shook my head, trying to understand what he was saying. "Or are you not the author of your own journey, The Road to Middle-earth?" He nodded to something that was tucked neatly next to the refrigerator, and my eyes widened in horror that I saw it was my laptop, and on the screen was the fourth chapter to my story. I snapped forward and yanked it off the counter. "You really should be more careful where you leave your things. And just between you and me, Middle-East does sound better than Middle-earth."

"I'm not going to ask you again. Get off my property, or I'll..."

"You'll what? Call the police? Stab me with your little knife that you left upstairs? You see, Miss Porter, I know more about you than you guess, so I'd advice you to listen to what I have to say."

I sighed. "Please just get out of my house. I don't have anything you would want."

"That, deary, remains to be seen. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm not here on my own accord."

"What does that mean?"

"I was sent here."

"Well, you can send yourself back and stay there, thank you."

"I can't. I made a deal with the person who sent me and I'm not leaving until I see that it is fulfilled."

I sighed. "Can you just tell me what you want?"

The man shrugged. "You, of course."

"Me...?"

"Tell me, Miss Porter. Have you heard of a place called Nottingham?"

My lips parted automatically and my eyes widened as the memories began flooding my mind. "Robin Hood..." I whispered.

He let out a shrill giggle of delight and I felt goosebumps form on my skin. "So you do know it, and by the looks of it, you're still in love with...him" I caught myself and swallowed. "Don't worry, she doesn't know."

My brows furrowed. "Who?"

"His fiancé. Oh—" He cupped his hand to his mouth mockingly. "Didn't you get an invitation to the wedding?" I lowered my eyes guiltily and avoided his gaze. He smiled disdainfully. "Me neither. I'm not, what would you call it, party material. Don't get me wrong, I love celebrations, especially weddings; it's just they don't love me. You see, lass, the world doesn't know how to accept people like you and me, and as you can see, we're not all that different."

I took a deep breath as I lifted my eyes again. "What do you know of Nottingham?"

The man began walking toward me, his feet stepping on the glass. "This is not about me, Miss Porter, but you. You see, the world has changed. It no longer recognizes itself from five years ago. It is fading and quickly. King Richard is all but deceased, his mind gone mad, and no one can understand why. But there is one person who might be able to solve this puzzle, and I'm looking at her."

"Me? Whatever put that thought in your head?"

"Actually it was the king. He was said to have whispered your name just before this...illness took all sanity from him."

"But what can I do? I don't understand either."

He pointed a finger at me. "Yes...you...do. You just don't know it yet."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"It has everything to do with you, and you have everything to do with it."

I shook my head. "What does that even mean?"

"Ah." The man clasped his hands on his cane. "That was only a sneak peek. After that, there's a fee." He raised a finger. "Or, you can come with me and talk to the person who sent me."

"If this is such a serious situation, why didn't he come to me himself?"

"Because she can't come. I am the only one capable of entering this land." My brows furrowed. "So then...what do you say?"

I sighed and leaned against the wall, and shrugged. "Sorry, I'm not convinced. I can't help you. Please go away and don't come back."

"Not even if it meant risking your father's life?"

I looked up and flashed my eyes at the man, but he smirked. "What about my father? What do you know of him? I swear if you touch one hair on his head, I'll—"

"Relax, deary. You don't have to worry about me hurting him. But if you could find a way to save him...would you?" His eyes pinned me down and I had the uneasy feeling that he could see right through me. "I thought so."

Then quite suddenly, there was a blinding flash. I turned my head and shielded my face with my hands, but when I opened my eyes, the man was gone. All that was left was a terrifically messy kitchen and a broken baseball bat. But I stood there for several minutes, pondering the last thing he'd said.

A few minutes later, a knock came at the door, and I rushed into the living room, praying that it wasn't Mitch or Mom, but upon peeking through the peep hole, I discovered that it was neither of them. I opened the door and saw the mailman standing there with a big box.

"Miss Porter?" he asked.

"What?"

"Are you Alayna Porter?" I nodded slowly. "I have a delivery for you. Just sign here." He held out a slip and a pen and I signed my name quickly before cautiously taking the light package from him. Once I closed the door, I ripped the box open. There were a lot of packing peanuts and after a few minutes, I wondered if that was all I had signed for. But then, I pulled out a very small scroll and opened it. On it was a very short message written in calligraphy.

If you enjoyed our conversation as much as I did,

Then meet me tomorrow at sundown.

Don't worry about the location; just follow the bread crumbs.

Melchior

I narrowed my eyes as I read the small print beneath the message, "Upon...complete viewing of...this message, this scroll will self-de—" There was a poof and a great deal of smoke that set off the smoke alarm, but when it cleared, there was no note.

After struggling with shutting the alarm off, I realized it would take forever to clean the mess up, and I'd have to come up with an explanation as to how Mitch's bat lay broken on the floor. I did the first thing that came to my mind. I ran upstairs and grabbed my phone, and called 9-1-1.

"Can you describe the burglar again, Ma'am?"

I nodded. I wasn't about to lie to protect Mitch's reputation as a well-respected lawyer. "He had greasy hair that fell to his shoulders, and his body was covered in warts, and he had yellow eyes."

The officer nodded while writing on a notepad. "And how hard did you hit the man?"

Mitch covered his face with his hand. "Enough to break the friggin' bat!"

I glared at him. "I said I'm sorry!" I glanced at Mom, who gave me an encouraging smile and rubbed my shoulder.

"And what happened after that?" the cop continued.

"Um...he ran away." Okay, so maybe I would tell just a little lie, but only to protect my reputation, even though I really had none.

"Which direction?"

"I can't believe you used the bat of all things," Mitch muttered, but Mom threw him a glare, which he either failed to notice, or ignored completely.

"Which direction, Ma'am?" the cop repeated.

"Ah, righ—uh-um left."

The cop looked at me suspiciously while Mitch continued to breathe fire under his breath. "And there was a note?" I nodded. "Where is it now?"

"It..." I looked once at Mom. "Um...it kind of vanished." Mitch let out an obnoxious sigh.

"What do you mean it vanished? Did the man come back for it?"

I shook my head. "It vanished, it just disappeared. Right out of my hands."

The cop looked at his partner, who shrugged his shoulders, and then rubbed the bridge of his nose as he studied his notes. "Do you at least remember what it said?"

"It said..." I glanced at Mitch, who was fuming, "follow the bread crumbs."

"I told you!" cried Mitch. "She's crazy!" Then he turned to my mom. "Didn't I tell you we should have checked her into the mental hospital? Don't give me that look—you know I was right."

"Mitch, please!" she protested.

"Look, folks," said the officer, lifting his hands in an attempt to calm the boiling temperature. "Let me say something briefly. There's really no evidence of a burglary; nothing is missing—"

"Except my bat!"

"Nothing else is missing," the cop reiterated cautiously. "So we'll just say this was a misunderstanding and call it good."

"That will be fine," Mom spoke up as she started following the cops towards the door. "I'm sorry you came all the way here for no reason."

"Oh," the officer chuckled, "it happens all the time." But as they passed, I saw the cops share wary glances. When they reached the door, the first cop leaned into whisper to my mom, while keeping their eyes on me. "Is she on any kind of medication?"

"Yes."

"Well, you might consider having the dosage increased."

She nodded, but said nothing in response. When they left, she closed the door, and leaned against it, sighing. "What just happened?"

"I can't believe you broke this!" said Mitch, holding the pieces of his bat. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm not the one who broke it, Mitch," I said. "Someone was really here. I thought they were trying to steal stuff. What would you expect me to do? Go up to him and give him a few suggestions on what to take?"

"You probably would," he mumbled.

I set my jaw. "You can call me crazy all you want, but I'm not a thief!"

Mom sighed again. "Listen, we can talk about this later, but right now we just need to clean this up. The last thing we need is someone to step on that glass."

"Talk?" I asked. "There's obviously nothing to talk about. Mitch has already made up his mind that I'm the one to blame here."

"You were the only one in the house."

"No, I wasn't!"

"Alayna, look," said Mom. "I'm concerned about you. We both are." Mitch glanced at me but then turned away, folding his arms over his chest. "Something is going on and I wish you'd open up to me."

"I don't have to open up to anyone. I'm thirty years old, so stop treating me like a child!"

Mom's nose flared. "Can you blame me, Alayna? I mean have you seriously stopped to think what has happened to you? You don't eat, you don't sleep, you complain of headaches, and you're walking around with your pockets full of knives."

"It's just one, Mom."

"It doesn't matter, something is going on. Why are you so secretive?"

I kept my mouth closed and avoided her stare.

"Leave the child alone, Miranda," sneered Mitch. "Just let her live in her fantasy world. Maybe there she can't friggin' harm anyone."

I glared at Mitch. "It's not a fantasy. Middle-earth is real, and I'm going back there someday."

Mom made a noise of distress as she ran her hands down her face. "Not this again, Alayna."

I glared. "Look, just because you don't think it happened doesn't mean it didn't."

"You can't keep talking like this. This is why you don't have friends. People aren't interested in fairy tales or make-believe, they're interested in reality. Why can't you be among them?"

"Because I'm not, okay? I've been there, I've seen it. I had tea with hobbits, I had Yule with Bilbo, I met Gandal—"

"STOP IT!" Mom suddenly broke down into tears and slumped onto the couch as she buried her face in her hands. "Alayna, you can't keep doing this to me. I can't take anymore." I stood there, scratching my arm awkwardly, not sure whether to be full of anger or pity.

Mitch sat down next to her and put his arm around her. "I told you you should have divorced her father sooner."

I stiffened and felt my blood boil. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. He's the one who got you into all this nonsense. Can't you see what it's done to your mother? If it hadn't been for him..."

I didn't wait to hear the rest of what he had to say. I rushed at him and with a hidden strength, pulled him to his feet by his collar. "Don't you talk about my father that way! He's a better man than you'll ever be."

"Alayna!" Mom jumped to her feet and tried to pull us apart. But as she pushed against my chest, her hand fell on the chain around my neck.

I pushed her off me. "Don't touch that!" I clutched the ring protectively as I moved away from her.

Our eyes were locked for several moments, and she blinked several times while Mitch swiveled his head back and forth, watching us. Then she took a cautious breath, "I don't know you. If you happen to go back to Middle-earth, do me a favor. Tell my daughter to come back to me. You can stay there." She stared at me for several long moments before leaving the room.

Mitch sized me up and down with his eyes before following my mom. "What a pathetic waste."

That night I went to bed around dinner time and laid there for several long hours. For a while all I could think about was the message I'd received earlier that day, and the words 'follow the bread crumbs' echoed in my head. Then I pulled out the slip of paper from the envelope and stared at it until my headache returned.

DELAY A BLOW REMEMBER A MOON

NEXT POURING I STALK THE QUEER'S CHILL KISS

HOW NEED I AM THAT DAM DOES NOT DRAIN

THAT WHISTLKNITROTTH IS MY GAME

Finally, I opened The Return of the King and began reading vigorously. Having experienced too much hurt in this world the last few days, I knew I could always turn to these books for an escape. Here, I would find peace, and I even wondered at times if I ever belonged here. Perhaps, I had accidentally been born in the wrong world. It was true that I missed Bilbo and Frodo, and Gandalf. But I missed both my dad and my mom more.

At around 10 o'clock, I turned off my light and rolled over to sleep, but I could hear Mom and Mitch arguing in the next room. ("She's your friggin' daughter why don't you do something about her?" "Mitch, I've done all I can. You could at least treat her like a grown up." "That would be easier if she acted like one."), Of course, they were fighting about me, and I tried to block it out by listening to some music from my phone, but it was no use.

After a time, I gave up the prospect of any sleep at all, at least in a bed. I had tried to take Dr. Cogsberry's advice and had manage to succeed for a couple days. But tonight I would revert to my old ways. I picked up the pillow and draped the heavy comforter over my shoulder. I stuck my head out the door, looking left and right to make sure the coast was clear. Then I tiptoed down the staircase and snuck towards the front door.

"Where are you going?"

I froze and turned. Ben was sitting in the dark holding a Nintendo DS, the screen as his only light. "I...couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd watch some TV."

He laughed. "Yeah, whatever. You were going to go sleep in a tree, weren't you? Miranda said you do that all the time at home."

"Whatever I do at home is my business."

He snickered. "I heard about what you did today, how you broke my dad's bat."

I sucked on my bottom lip. "Well, I'm only sorry I wasn't able to break anything else of his."

"I'm gonna tell him you said that!"

"I certainly hope you do."

With that, I opened the front door and walked into the winter chill of night.

A/N – I'm really sorry that this chapter was so nasty; it was incredibly hard to write. But don't worry, the nice thing about broken people is that they can be mended. :)

Next chapter – Our adventure begins!

1Soundtrack Hook (John Williams) - "Smee's Plan"