Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.
-Samuel Clemens, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
The above is my way of saying that, while this story has serious moments in it and the characters within will take it seriously, this is not a story you want to think too hard on. The plot will get progressively more ridiculous as the story continues.
What if several portals opened up in Westeros leading to other fictional lands? That's the basic premise of this story. Mostly it will be about other fictional characters reacting to Westeros, and how they ultimately affect the game of thrones.
Like I said before, this is mostly for fun. I'm not here to write a great, epic fanfiction. Enjoy!
No matter how many times Eddard "Ned" Stark personally executed someone, it never got any easier. Seeing a man's life evaporate in his eyes was always trying. Ned reached down, and began to stroke the pommel of Ice, the Stark ancestral greatsword.
He turned to look at his third son, Brandon "Bran" Stark, who was staring forward in melancholy silence. Maybe Cat was right; maybe he was still too young.
Behind them, his honor guard rode dutifully at their Lord's pace; Theon Greyjoy was telling a presumably crude joke to one of his friends. Robb Stark and Jon Snow, his two eldest sons, had ridden forward in a race.
Ned was about to turn to his young son, when a shout rose up from somewhere in front. Ned gripped Ice more firmly, as his guard stopped in confusion. The sounds of hoof beats appeared, causing Ned to draw Ice fully, just in case. His guard did the same.
Next moment, Ned was breathing a sigh of relief as his son Robb came around the next bend. That relief was short lived, as he saw a look of utter confusion on his eldest son's face.
"Robb, what is it? Bandits?", asked Ned.
Robb gave his father a queer look. "Father, me and Jon have found a troupe of travelers in the Wolfswood? They look… well, you must come see."
Now, it was Ned's turn to be confused. He stirred his horse to move forward, his retinue doing the same a moment later. Only Theon was smiling, though only in a very lost manner.
Ned followed his son around the bend, and came to a bridge. The first thing he noticed, oddly enough, was a series of hoof and foot prints on the ground. One clearly belonged to a stag, the other to an odd sort of wolf. They must have been struggling, but Ned could see no bodies.
The second, more obvious thing, he noticed was the queer band of travelers near the creek below the bridge. And queer was definitely the right word to use for them.
There was two, normal looking men among the group; one looked to be a brigand, dressed in mostly black. The other man was when the oddities started. He looked exactly like Ned, though somewhat younger and more handsome.
Nonetheless, he carried himself like a king, denoting himself as the leader.
An old man was also there looking normal enough, but he was trussed like a wizard straight out of the stories Southrons would tell. Though, a might shabbier than you would expect.
Two of the other men were a stranger story. One was incredibly fair, so much so that Ned could tell he would be picked on for looking like a lady by the men of the North. He held a bow and arrow, and Ned could just about see the tips on his ears.
The other man was a small and stout, carrying a great axe and holding himself like a mighty warrior despite his size.
The last four… men in the group was what made Ned's eyes go as wide as saucers. They were very small, coming up to most of the men's waists. At first, Ned thought of the Imp of Casterly Rock, but he could see that they had no physical deformities. They looked like normal young men, just incredibly small.
"Gods be good.", muttered one of the guardsmen behind Ned at the sight of the small ones.
Ned, getting over his initial shock, hardened his face, and spoke in a harsh voice.
"I am Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and I demand you state your business."
He expected the younger version of himself to answer, but the old 'wizard' came forward himself.
"Greetings, Lord Stark. I am Gandalf the Grey, and these are my traveling companions. We are on a long journey through these lands."
Ned narrowed his eyes. "From whence have you come?"
Gandalf's smile faltered. "Pray tell, have you heard of a land called Middle-Earth?"
Ned shook his head. "I cannot say I have." He narrowed his eyes once again. "Can you tell me which if the seven kingdoms you are in? What continent this is?"
Gandalf's smile completely fell at this. "The truth of the matter is that we fell asleep in our land called Middle-Earth, and woke up in your lands."
Ned frowned in confusion. Did the strange men think them fools?
Rodrick Cassel leaned forward, and whispered. "This is obviously a craven bandit's desperate trick, milord."
Ned could also feel Theon Greyjoy reaching for his arrow. Ned, however, raised a hand to his guards.
"You will join us to my holdfast, where we will find the truth of this matter."
Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "That is acceptable to us."
Sorry for the brevity of this chapter. Next one will be longer, detailing the Fellowship in Winterfell.
More people from portals, not just from Middle-Earth, will appear later.