Once again, thank you for being here. I hope that means you are enjoying the fruits of my labor so far! Here, a chapter fresh from the oven! (My brain does tend to overheat… so does my laptop… and phone… oh the misery!)

Previous disclaimer applies!

She did not know how long she stayed inside the rift, but it sure felt like an eternity when her mana was being sapped at frightening levels to maintain the stability of the path between worlds.

Around her, many things floated in the emptiness of nowhere, lost by their owners on the way to a new destination. Sometimes, she thought she had seen the corpses of those unfortunate ones who got lost, or whose path had been severed. She would quickly turn her eyes away from those glimpses and keep on walking ahead, grasping her staff tightly, hoping her power was enough to see her safely to the other side.

Finally, when Laliani was starting to despair, feeling the mana deprivation affect her senses, she reached the end of her path. A strange curtain stood before her, shimmering softly and in perpetual movement, like a small magical waterfall. Beyond it, she could only see vague shapes and colors, enough to tell her it was daytime and there was greenery around her, but nothing else.

Calling forth all her courage, Laliani stepped through the curtain, ready to face whatever awaited her on the other side.

The Fellowship was resting on the lowest slopes of cruel Caradhras, weary and defeated, but whole - except for a few sneezes and grumbles of cold feet by the hobbits. The sun was starting to sink into the horizon, bathing everything in a soft orange light and giving the mountain a deceiving air of peace and safety. The company, however, had turned its collective back on the peak and huddled before a merry fire, comforted by the scent of a hearty stew prepared by Sam.

The road ahead might be fraught with perils and uncertainty, but as of this moment, everything was alright.

These content thoughts were interrupted by a loud ripping sound and a flash of bright blue light coming from a copse of young chestnut and oak trees nearby, accompanied an instant later by a wave of hot wind so strong it put out their fire and nearly sent the slight hobbits flying, such was its power.

Gandalf immediately rose from his seated perch on a trunk and, dusting himself, chided the warriors of the Fellowship that had risen as well with weapons drawn. "Stay put and defend the little ones! Something magical has just entered Middle Earth, and its power is beyond any of you. I will go, and if I need your help, I shall simply call you." Grabbing his staff, he walked with decisive steps toward the trees.

In truth, though he tried not to show it, he was concerned. Whatever happened to come into Middle Earth had torn the very fabric of reality to get here, causing a dissonant bell-like tone to echo through the Song of Arda - and this tear had practically leeched all the magic from the air.

He nearly stumbled in shocked surprise - though to anyone asking he would be blaming some invisible root - when he reached the site of the magical disturbance.

It was shocking indeed for where once stood healthy, strong trees now lay a shallow crater, the ground around it charred and the trees, uprooted, still smoking.

But what truly made him nearly lose his wizardly dignity was the small blonde elf lady that laid in the epicenter of the crater, unmoving, and clearly wounded.

Trading his caution for compassion, he hastened to her side and, crouching, checked for a pulse on her neck.

He sighed in relieved wonder when he caught the faint beat of blood running in its proper place. Relief he felt because she was an elf, and such, clearly an ally. Wonder, for how did an elven lady, clearly not dressed for a stroll in the wilderness - elves were rarely so foolish as to prance around in the woods wearing a gown fit for a queen - come to be standing right where a magical tear in reality would form?

With this question came worry. It would be too much of a coincidence if she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, so she had to be the cause of it. Frankly, now that his senses were recovering from the ear-splitting dissonance in the fabric of the world, he could feel the abundant magical presence this elf had, even unconscious.

But this was not the time to stand around worrying - or crouching, in his case, he remarked to himself as he rose to his feet with a groan of effort. Existing as an old man had its disadvantages, like sore knees and aching backs.

Making sure the lady was really unconscious, he set about returning to the Fellowship, who by now was quite agitated with worry. He did not give them time to ask questions. "Legolas, come with me, please." He called, and stepped back beneath the trees when the elf reached him.

He led the elf prince to the fallen lady, ignoring the lad's pained exclamation at the destruction of the forest around them, and his gasp of shock at the sight of the fallen lady.

Legolas went to her without prompting, but stopped once his keen eyes registered the obvious differences between her and any other elf in Middle Earth.

For starters, she was clearly smaller in stature than the norm, slighter even than a normal human when every elf was taller than any of the race of Men.

Her ears were also sharply pointed and long where any other from elvenkind would bear delicately pointed ears only slightly longer than the mortal races'. Her eyebrows too were quite strange, thin and so long they almost reached the size of her ears.

Another difference, though subtler than the others, was the lady's facial structure. She had a very lovely heart-shaped face, with delicate pouty lips and a small button nose, but the angle of her cheekbones and chin was sharper and much more pronounced than any race Legolas had ever seen.

To his eyes, the differences were fairly obvious, but he could understand how someone without the sight of an elf would overlook them at first glance.

"She's not an Elf, Mithrandir." He informed the wizard, even as he carefully picked up the unconscious lady to carry her back to camp. "At least not like any Elf I've ever met." He amended.

The wizard sighed and walked next to him, keeping a watchful eye on their burden. "I was afraid you'd say that." He told Legolas as they approached the rest of the Fellowship, whose members had risen to better look at the still lady.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Why? What are you thinking?"

By now, they had reached the camp and Legolas was carefully depositing the lady on a spare bedroll Aragorn had quickly set up. The rest of the company watched in silence, awaiting Gandalf's answer.

"Because it means she is not from this world." He finally said.

Bedlam erupted, all the members of the Fellowship asking how that was possible and what really could the wizard be meaning.

"Silence!" Gandalf ordered finally. "Do not ask me questions I have no answer for." He chided, and continued in a gentler tone when he was obeyed. "Instead of standing here making suppositions, why don't we take care of her wounds and then wake her up to ask her all those questions?"

Judging Gandalf's idea sound - or at least not daring to contradict the wizard - the Fellowship made space to let Aragorn check the lady's condition.

"She is not gravely wounded." The Ranger said after his examination. "Merely scrapes and bruises. And likely dehydration - her lips look quite chapped. Pass me a flask of water," he gestured at Sam, who hastened to do as he was told. "We need to wake her so she can drink. Be ready," he warned. "She will probably be confused and in pain when she comes to, we must not startle her further."

And with that, he laid a hand on her face and shook her shoulder slightly with the other.

A pair of luminescent bright green eyes opened suddenly, and the Fellowship was flung backwards with force by another strong magical wave.