This is my first fic! I hope you enjoy, because I really enjoy writing it!
I walk as inconspicuously as I can possibly walk in the midst of my deep daydreams towards the quaint, tidy coffee shop at the corner. I don't like people noticing me, because all they notice when I look at them is the odd color of my eyes. They are a striking pale violet that often makes people stop in their tracks and stare. I become uncomfortable with this staring, as I do not wish to attract unwanted attention. Thus, I pull the medieval-looking hood of my raincoat over my head. I suppose I have a fetish for things that look like they've come from a medieval fantasy universe.
The bell rings softly as I enter the coffee shop, and I marvel over how such a beautiful sound could come from something so simple as a handbell. The boy behind the counter - the same boy who is behind the counter every day - lifts his head.
"Hello," I say cheerfully. I always try to give these college students some friendly conversation. They're sitting behind a counter all day taking orders and making coffee while probably not allowed to have any themselves.
"Hello, Miss," he says in a flat monotone. "May I take your order?"
"I would like a small coffee please." I do not like how over-the-top and overrated frappucinos are these days.
"We'll have your order right up." The poor fellow must have been repeating those same words all day. Once I've turned away from him and my strangely colored eyes are no longer in sight, I lower my silver hood and sit down in the corner chair.
Luckily, my hair stayed dry. The weather always seems dreadful in Seattle these days. It is spring, and the rainy season is only beginning. Oh, how I wish this season would end, and July would come already, bringing with it the warmth of sunshine. I do miss seeing the beauty of the stars at night and feeling the heat of the sun on my shoulders.
My pale hair tumbles around my shoulders like waves of vomit from an ethereally beautiful unicorn. In this light, it appears somewhat gold, though at other times is slightly more silver. It rather stands out in Seattle where most people have short, silky brown hair that they actually put effort into styling. I never liked my hair, and thus I always just let it hang down to my waist in waves of contrived unicorn vomit. Oh, how I such hated my hair.
"Your coffee?" the boy calls. I am the only one here at the moment. All the business has gone to the new Starbucks that opened downtown. I stride over and pick up my coffee, brushing my hair in front of my eyes. I'm probably more self-conscious about their color than I should be, but maybe that comes from being teased about it all through high school.
"Please sign the receipt." He hands me the paper and a pen, and I hastily sign Saerinil on the small sheet of paper. Leave it to my parents to give me such a weird name, but they're not alive for me to blame for it. I am told they died in a fire when I was a baby, but I never took the time to investigate.
I leave the shop quickly, as another man has just entered. My hair blows about my pale face in the wind, and I can sense another rainstorm coming in. I always wanted freckles, but luck has never particularly been on my side. The man comes out after me, and only then do I notice his stern, dark eyes and his gray beard. He is following me. I am used to being followed; after all I do sometimes work undercover for the local police station, but I am not on one of those missions at the moment. It is all I can do not to turn and run.
"Milady!" he calls after me. Why, I thought I was the only human who still used such old fashioned titles.
I turn around and look at him. "Yes?" I ask, blinking a couple of times.
He stops in front of me. His face is weathered and worried, and there are great bags under his eyes. His gray suit is still in perfect condition, which seems odd to me given the rain, but his hands and face are grimy.
"Milady, are you Saerinil Ithiliel?"
I smile at him gratefully. At least someone can pronounce my name correctly, given its oddness. I used to be teased about it all the time when I was in school. People rolled their tongues over it improperly and laughed at me as I walked down the halls, imitating the flowing grace with which I strode. It was an unnatural grace that had served me well when I was learning swordplay, but when I was younger it only got me teased.
"Yes, I am. Who are you?"
"I am Gandalf the Gray."
I gasp. "You can't be! He is only a character!" I had always been in love with Lord of the Rings. I had read the books at least thirteen times and each time wept when such beloved characters as Gandalf and Boromir and Haldir had died.
"Just because I was born in words to you does not mean that I was never real. Middle Earth is in danger, Saerinil, and you are the only one who can help us. I have taken great risk in finding you, Saerinil. Your presence could stir great unrest amongst the wise folk of our land."
I cover my mouth with my pale hand. "You say 'our' as if it is my land too."
Gandalf looks me straight in the eye. "It is, Saerinil. You are a half-Elf."
"No. It can't be!" But yet, it all makes sense. My grace, my flawless skin, and my odd colored eyes. I don't fit in in this world. I only belong in Middle Earth.
"How long have you known I was here?"
"You were born thousands of years ago, Saerinil, but you were sent to this world with a spell cast on you to age as if you were human. You were born in the years of the first rise of Sauron and the creation of the One Ring. And now Sauron is returning, and without your help, a great shadow will fall upon all of Middle Earth."
I gulp. This is all a lot to take in over the course of a single day, but my overwhelming sense of duty starts to take over. "What must I do?" I ask quietly. After all, there is little for me in this world. I am an outcast of society, and none here understand me. I cannot not impose my Middle Earth-born self upon the world I grew up in any longer.
Gandalf nodded curtly at me. "Thank you for your cooperation. You must return to your apartment and make sure there is nothing flammable left on. I would hate to start a fire in your city. Then you must unplug your toaster and remove the grates. Then you will know what to do."
Then he turned away from me and walked back down the rainy streets.
Back at my apartment, I hurry to the bathroom, where I have left my blow dryer plugged in like I always do. Then I go around making sure that there is nothing capable of burning down the block. On the way to the kitchen, I pass an old photo of my boyfriend from high school, and I sigh a bit wistfully. I was in love with him then, and he left me because he thought I was going out with his best friend. Truly, his best friend did love me, but it was unrequited by me. Ah, my past is tortured.
My hair falls around my eyes as I reach my fingers into the toaster and pull out the grates, setting them on the counter. I have just barely cleaned everything, like I always do on Saturdays to make sure the home was tidy.
The toaster begins to glow, silver light shooting out of it and causing my hair to blow about in a wind that came from nowhere and my pale violet orbs to sparkle in the sudden light. I am lifted into the air and turned over and over and over until finally I lose consciousness, and all I can see is stars and planets as far as my vision extends.
Suddenly, I wake up. "Where am I?" I whisper. An etherreally beautiful man is hovering over me, staring into my eyes.
"I am Legolas Greenleaf," he says softly. "You are in Rivendell. I have been charged with waiting for you to wake. Welcome to Middle Earth, Saerinil Ithiliel."
I look into his pale blue eyes. He has a handsome face and a kind expression. I sit up quietly, my hair falling about my shoulders in small waves. "You know who I am?"
He laughs, a sound like clear bells on a spring day. "Indeed I do. The wise know much of you, Saerinil." He fingers a loose piece of my hair and tucks it gently behind my ear. "I do not know that much. But you are a great force, for good or ill."
I purse my lips. "Well what does that mean?"
But Legolas only shakes his head. "I do not know, My Lady. That is what Lord Elrond has said. But at least Gandalf is fond of you. That much I have gathered.
"Why?"
"Again, My Lady, I do not know. But I wish you luck. You will be joining the Council of Elrond in a few hours."
Because clearly a few hours is a perfect amount of time to regain full consciousness, get my bearings, and meet people before I am thrown unceremoniously into a political meeting.
Middle Earth, as luck would have it, is beautiful. At least as far as Rivendell extends, that is. Waterfalls tumble everywhere, and the entire Homely House glitters in the sunlight. I am now dressed in a silver gown that Arwen lent to me when I awoke. There was no use arousing suspicion as to my origin, she said. I don't know exactly what she means by that, but I'm curious. I wonder if it has anything to do with the parents I thought I had lost when I was young.
The Council of Elrond is around me, bickering. My knowledge of the books and films has been wiped for some reason. I cannot help them with the wisdom from my world. All I remember is names and names and names. No deeds or heroisms.
Frodo offers himself up quickly, and I feel a stab of pity for the poor Halfling. He must have expected to go home by now, but if anything, there is relief in Gandalf's eyes. Then he turns to me, and I know what he expects of me. I rise to my feet, my silver gown tumbling behind me and pooling around my feet as I walk.
I kneel beside him. "I will aid you as well as I can," I say soothingly, and he stares up at me with round, blue eyes. He is scared. But so am I. No one has told me what my purpose is yet, only that it is important. I can tell they are hiding something, but maybe this quest will reveal it. So I am happy to go.
My hair is braided in Elvish fashion down my back, falling to my waist, and it falls over my right shoulder as I speak.
Soon Aragorn volunteers, and then Legolas and Gimli and Gandalf and Boromir and three other little Halflings who I have not yet spoken to.
"Ten to counter the forces of darkness, then," said Elrond proudly, looking us over. His gaze rests on me, and there is a flicker of worry in his eyes. But then he says, "You are the Fellowship of the Ring," and the worry is then gone.
Read and review, plz! This has been great fun, and I can't wait to get to further chapters!