Author's notes: Oh, wow. Reviews! ^.^

CoolMistaria1: This isn't exactly boy-gets-sucked-into-Middle-earth. Actually it has nothing to do with getting in Middle-earth. I suggest you stay around though. This story will get interesting. Also, I had an idea for a boy getting into Middle-earth. Be expecting it. ^.~

rome: Hm...Stick around and find out if your suspicions are correct.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! Only Uncle Eric really! I actually own the use of the names Frank, Mark, Peter, Sean, Mr. White...*covers her mouth* I better stop before I give out all teh names and give away too much. ^.^

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Chapter Two: The Fellowship of the Ring



It was the night before Frank had to go to school and the boy did not have a peaceful sleep. Tossing and turning in his bed, he dreamt of people he had never seen before, heard voices he had never heard before.

When morning came, however, his uncle woke him, jerking him from the distant voices and events. As he got himself ready for school, he tried to remember what his dreams had been about, but shook his head when he couldn't.

"You're gonna be late!" Uncle Eric called. Hopping on one foot with a comb between his teeth, Frank struggled to get his shoe on.

As he hopped around, his other foot caught itself on a basball bat and he fell over with a dull thud. There was a knock on his bedroom door after he had managed to get up and put his shoe on successfully.

"You okay in there?" his uncle called. Frank rushed to the mirror in his room to fix his hair.

"Yeah!" he called back and swiftly ran the comb through his short hair.

After doing that, he laid his comb down and rushed to his bed, where his books were, grabbed them, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out the door. As he made a mad dash to the door, his uncle slowed him down and held up an apple.

Looking pitiful with his arms full of books and his jacket, Frank felt his stomach growl. Uncle Eric chuckled and held the apple near his nephew's mouth. Getting the idea, Frank sank his teeth into the fruit, called his muffled thanks, and dashed out the door.

As he jogged down the street to the bus stop, he struggled to put his jacket on and only succeeded in getting one of his arms in. He heard Mark and Peter's snickers when he reached the stop. The two obvious found his situation extremely humorous. Eventually, the two gave him a hand and Frank got his jacket all the way on and began to eat his apple.

"Woke up late, eh?" Peter asked, still grinning at Frank's arrival. Rolling his eyes, Frank took another bite of the apple, thinking about the dream he couldn't remember.

It took less than five minutes for Frank to finish his apple and the bus to arrive. Climbing on the bus, he spotted his other friend Sean sitting near the middle of the bus with an empty seat behind him.

Frank made his way over as the bus began to move and sat next to Sean, while Mark and Peter sat behind them.

"Hey, Sean. You have a fun summer?" Frank asked his friend with a grin on his face. Sean only shook his head.

"Not really. Yesterday my dad caught a case of the flu and is now making me do the chores alone," his friend answered and Frank patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

Before Frank could say anything, the voice of his youngest friend said, "That's not too bad. You should be careful around Frank when he's sick--"

"Peter," Mark said, eyeing Frank to see if he's let his temper loose.

"The day before yesterday, he suddenly went all pale and sweaty while Mark and I were talking to him--" Peter continued and would have said something else, but Mark's hand lifted as if to hit the younger boy on the head.

Frank rolled his eyes and blew a sigh. A moment later, he noticed Sean was giving him a concerned look.

"I'm fine, Sean," he assured his friend. "That happened two days ago."

"But what if it happens again while you're riding your bike--"

"I don't have a bike."

"--or driving a car--"

"Don't have a car either." Frank then paused and smiled at his friend, who was always concerned when anyone was sick or wounded. "I'm all right, Sean. No worries."




Frank began to think that he had been wrong about 'no worries'. His first class of the day, unfortunately, was English, a class he dreaded. Most people dreaded the class actually, because Mr. White taught the class.

Mr. White was supposed to be the strangest and most odd teacher out there, with teaching methods that made no sense but still seemed to work. Although he helped many students get better grades, he also had the most unusual punishments. No one knew what he was going to have the next person who caused trouble do.

And even worse than the teacher were the assignments.

"This year, you will all read six novels. I have already selected the first three," Mr. White had begun once everyone found a seat. "And I am sure you all will enjoy them."

Frank, who chose a seat at the front of the class because he didn't have good grades in the area of English (even though he spoke the language), studied the odd teacher.

Indeed, he was odd. The man seemed to be in his late-thirties, possibly early-forties, and had a streak of silver that ran right on the middle of his head. What was odd about him, from what Frank could see, was that while the man spoke he seemed to be looking all around the room by the movement of his head. But, Frank then noticed, his eyes were actually focused on a certain point.

Frank looked around to see what the teacher was looking at and, when he looked up at Mr. White again, their eyes locked. For a moment, their eyes stayed locked and neither blinked nor looked away.

Finally, after a while, too unnerved to hold the man's gaze, Frank lowered his eyes and looked at the ground. He could feel a small bead of sweat run down his face as the teacher conitued talking.

"Now, I'll have you know that no one here has to check out or buy the first three novels. I have the first set of novels here today. So when I call your name, please step up and claim your Fellowship of the Ring," Mr. White said and Frank looked up to the book the teacher held in recognition.

He had heard of that book. Where and when he didn't know, but he knew he had heard the title somewhere.

"Tiffany Stewart. Matt Generoso..." Mr. White conitued. After a while, when most of the students had a book, Mr. White finally called out Frank name.

Frank got out of his seat and made his way over to the teacher, who held out the book for him to take. When Frank reached out to take it with his eyes lowered, Mr. White quickly retracted the book.

Confused, Frank looked up and again their gazes locked. But instead of feeling only unnerved, Frank felt both unnerved and a sense of something familiar.

The old man's blue eyes seemed like those of an old friend, but that wasn't right. Before school, Frank has never known the odd teacher, and yet...

Frank was broken from his thought as Mr. White began to speak.

"Young Frank Johnson," he began quietly, as if he did not want anyone else to hear. "When you read this book, you will find there is a great deal you do not know about yourself. This book shows you a time of which you have forgotten. Do try and keep an open mind when you are reading this. It is greatly important that you understand."

With that, the teacher handed the book calmly to its temporary owner and patted him on the shoulder. Confused and bewildered, Frank went slowly back to his seat, running Mr. White's words in his head and studying the cover of the book.



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Hehe. Second chapter! Hope you all enjoyed! Oh, and be expecting another fic from me! It's going to be just as good as this, and if not, then better! ^.~