Revised March 2020

Update April 27, 2021:

I rewrote a large part of the ending from chapter 30 (the stable scene) as I was never entirely happy with how it turned out. I ended up adding an extra 1000 words (nearly two doc. pages), so it might be worth checking out =)

I also want to quickly apologise for how long I keep sitting on the current update; Chapter 31 is in the home stretch, and I hope to finish it this week. I have been working on several chapters simultaneously (mainly 31 and 32, but also some future content which is closely tied to the upcoming events) — thus the delay. :|

Author's Note July 2020:

To anyone who has been following this story when I first started publishing it, and might find their way back here: I cannot even begin to apologize enough, especially given the amazing encouragement and kindness I received from you guys, even years later. Thank you so much. Also, thanks to those who send PMs to ask whether I was okay – forgive me if I never answered. It has been a strange and insane time with countless stuff happening all at once, to the point of absurdity. Or in other words, life just happened. I have been working on this story sporadically throughout the last couple of years, and more intensively for the last six months or so. Large portions of it are written now, including the last part and lots of the middle, though most of it not quite in a publishable state yet.

Again, in case some of the 'old crew'-readers might end up here again - I'm so sorry for the hiatus and lack of updates. I hope you are well, since I couldn't get a hold of a lot of you.

A few Warnings: Rated M for Violence and mature themes, including psychological trauma and some fairly unhealthy coping mechanisms. Chapters that I feel might require an additional/more detailed warning will have a note at the top.

Technically, this is a Girl/Woman-falls-into-Middle-earth-Story, albeit a bit of a twisty one. To add insult to injury, it also features poor, overworked Legolas as the main protagonist. Yeah, I have no idea what the hell I was thinking either. That being said, I'm not gonna apologise for it, he actually really grew on me.

May this story be considered 'LACE-friendly'? I believe it does. I will add, though, that I regard that essay as 'more what you'd call "guidelines" than actual rules.' Thank you Captain, and many Thanks to Ruiniel for kindly igniting that entertaining debate.

Disclaimer: Everything is property of JRRT/The Tolkien Estate, bar ill-fated Anne, as well as the bucketloads of other original characters. (Oh, and Rhyswenlia - but you can have her)

I'm currently (and sometimes randomly) revising all the previous chapters; those that are (somewhat) done have a note at the top.

Most of the elvish phrases in this story (Sindarin, Quenya or otherwise) are by courtesy of dreamingfifi's amazing language website realelvish dot net. She also wrote some of the most realistic Tolkienverse stories involving modern people, so in case you haven't already, please check them out if that's something you enjoy.

Prologue

III III III

:::

Anne looked up from her monitor for the third time in what couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, glancing towards the large window next to the dining table. Again, she thought she had caught a glimpse of something outside, a movement in the darkness, out of the corner of her eye. Frowning and absently worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she peered through the glass, but the garden was pitch-black; all she could see was her own reflection and those of the numerous lamps she had lit inside the living room.

She was being silly of course. Nothing was out there, except the neighbour's cat, perhaps. She just wasn't used to being alone in the big house at night, and it was just so awfully quiet. Anne's parents had just left for a four-week cruise along the Scandinavian fjords, and her little sister Hannah had finally moved out a couple of months ago. Anne, living relatively close by, had therefore agreed to house-sit. Despite being the older one by almost six years, Anne feared that Hannah might indeed have been the better choice for the task, and for this exact reason: It was dark, it was too quiet, and it was making her far too nervous.

Shaking her head and inwardly scolding herself for being such a chicken, she turned away from the dark window and back to her computer and to her reading, hoping to lose herself once more in one of her latest guilty pleasures, Passionate Encounters. She was up to chapter thirty-seven, and it seemed like the virgin was about to give up her rather feeble resistance and finally surrender to her determined beloved.

"Oh, I don't know, Telendir… Maybe this is a grave mistake! You are an Elf - tall, strong, beautiful, noble, rich and humorous - whereas I am a mere human! And though I might seem like the obvious choice to espouse - due to my powers, given by the Valar themselves – alas, the fact remains, that I am mortal and you are not!"

"Do not despair, Rhyswenlia, my love! And, stop making up excuses, we have been through this before. Have you forgotten that Arwen promised to present you, with half of her remaining lifespan, to thank you for saving Aragorn's life with your powers? Now, please hold still, I am trying to open these clasps…"

"But can I accept such a gift? It is true; she probably doesn't need a long life, with marrying Aragorn and all -"

"There you go. Whatever objections you have, my love - for you I shall conquer them all. Kindly stop fidgeting, will you -"

"Telendir! I have to remain a virgin until I'm eighteen, or the Valar won't remove the curse from me. You know -the one that kills the second born in every household I set foot into! And it is but two more days -"

This time, there was a distinctive scraping noise from outside, somewhere near the window. Anne jumped slightly in her chair and tore her gaze away from the screen again to try and make out something in the dark.

Nothing. Of course, there was nothing. This was rural countryside, the most boring and uneventful small town imaginable. Nothing out of the ordinary happened here. Ever. The quietness was playing tricks on her mind, that was all. Well, that and the after-effect of reading too much nonsense, perhaps. There was no sound apart from the soft, constant ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner behind her.

Anne returned to the more pressing matters.

But her beloved cut her short fiercely. "Nay! I cannot hold back anymore! I know 'tis wrong, but our love is worth it. And my younger brother Teleg - he is my archenemy anyway, usurper of the throne that he is."

It was then that Teleg burst into their chambers, roaring with fury, for he had been eavesdropping. "You will never prevail over me, Telendir! And Rhyswenlia I shall claim for myself! ..."

Anne's head shot up. Something had just triggered the motion sensor. Its lamp was casting a yellow cone of light across the narrow, gravelled path, the house wall and the little garden gate.

All right, this was it, irrational fear or not.

In one swift motion, Anne was out of her chair and pushed the button for the standby mode on her laptop. After turning off the lights, she resisted the temptation of pouring herself a good measure of her father's fine scotch, and instead all but ran to her old room on the second floor - taking only a small detour to the bathroom. By the time she crawled into bed and pulled the blanket up to her nose, Anne was beginning to feel slightly foolish about her headlong flight, but also a lot safer. Even if it was just a stray cat, (which no doubt it was) she was bone-weary anyway. It was late and the story had another fourteen chapters. Now that she thought about it, Anne remembered that she had also meant to finish a few other rather epic tales for quite some time, Fëanor's Concubines and Passionate Meetings, the prequel to Passionate Encounters.

Well, there's always tomorrow, was her last coherent thought, before succumbing to tiredness and slowly drifting into dreams.

:::

The vacated living room was dark and quiet. The light of the motion sensor had gone out, the laptop screen was black, and the only sound was the low ticking of the grandfather clock. After a few minutes, however, there was something else - almost too faint for human ears, if any had been present. A soft, scraping noise that seemed to be coming from the wooden floor. Suddenly the laptop monitor lit up, emitting a faint bluish light in the otherwise darkened room, and showing once more chapter thirty-seven of Passionate Encounters.

Another few minutes passed. Then a voice spoke in a low, strangely hollow-sounding whisper.

"Is everyone present?"

Suddenly the seemingly empty room was filled with something like a hissing sort of hum as if a considerable number of people were trying to make their presence known while keeping their voices as low as possible.

"It would seem so." The reply came from a second whisperer, who had a slightly whistling quality to their voice. "Withal, I must ask: what fuss was that with the light in their garden?"

There was the clearing of a throat that sounded like a slab of rock grating against stone. "That would be me. She was rather taking her time, therefore -"

"I expect you were responsible for the noises as well?"

"Yes, what pretty trick was that? You do not even possess a corporal form right now."

"Well, forgive me for thinking it might not hurt to add a little atmosphere to -"

There was the low but distinctive sound of another throat being cleared.

"May I suggest we return to the task at hand?" a particularly low and hoarse voice interrupted the dispute.

"Yes, yes – certainly. Are there any more thoughts on the matter before we proceed?"

"Well, her partialities are... interesting," someone murmured.

"That is not what I would call it," came a sharply hissed reply from somewhere near the sofa.

"I suppose, it does have a certain, naive charm -"

"Speak for yourself, my friend, I find it rather disturbing."

"Now, now - disturbing or not," the hollow-sounding first whisperer raised their voice once more, "the decisive factor remains: these... tales being completely harmless -" Someone gave a little cough at this, but the speaker went on: "- yes, they are harmless, compared to other things. We are all aware of that, I deem. Crucial is that she believes, that she imagines. And above all," the voice became graver still. "She matches the one who left."

"That may be so, yet it is not said that her taking the place will change anything," the hoarse-sounding whisperer demured. "Others have crossed before without making a difference."

"Indeed, and as it stands I consider it improbable. Nevertheless, this has been discussed and we agreed to make one final attempt. Hereafter we shall leave Middle Earth to its own devices. It is, after all, not our sole responsibility."

There was a soft, rumbling hum of consenting murmur.

"Any further objections?"

This time, only a long silence ensued.

"Then let us get this over with."

Precisely twenty-three minutes and forty-seven seconds later, the young woman named Anne, who had been sleeping soundly until that very moment, sat bolt upright without really waking. Eyes wide, staring blindly ahead, she opened her mouth as if trying to scream or perhaps just to draw breath, but seemed capable of neither. The last bit of oxygen left her lungs with a small, mildly surprised sigh".

And just like that a soul was split, and the sliver, houseless now, set adrift.

III III III

:::

AN: Just to clarify, since a couple of people have asked this: The illustrious piece of literature Anne is reading in this chapter was entirely made up by me. There is no deeper meaning, and the thing won't be mentioned or referenced again in the story.