Disclaimer: Tolkien's---not mine, dammit.
Chapter One
I woke abruptly. Something felt wrong. The air was sticky and hot, sweating in tiny condensed warm drops that formed on the hard stone floor of my cottage. I'd tried to coax a few plants to come and grow inside the small stone house, but it was too hard, and they had died, to my guilty grief.
The earth that had stood so docilely still for as long as I could remember was moving in heaving, bucking waves like a mad horse. I cautiously put a foot out, stood, and promptly fell as the ground pitched again. An odd, buzzing thrum began somewhere below my ribs, pressing me hard. I stood up. The buzz grew stronger. I stumbled forward, and it lessened. I kept walking, out of my home and past the small, rocky patch of dirt where the precious plants that had supported me and kept me fed for years struggled along.
The thrumming began again. I started to run towards the small river I got my water from. Years of farming rocky, stubborn land stood me in good stead as I ran. The thick air choked me and my breath came in ragged gasps. I tried to stop running, but the earth bucked and the thrumming persisted, ramming me forward painfully. Desperately I ran on and on, left, right, left, one foot seeming to take an eternity to plant itself in front of the other. My throat became sore and each breath came slowly, painfully, but I kept running. The ground rolled sickly, like a dog, a stormy sea of rocky dirt and tough brown weed. I could not run much longer, my lungs raw and legs sore. The ground heaved again, stronger, and I fell. This time, I did not have the strength to rise. The ground jerked, rolling, boiling, twisting around me, carrying me with it. With all my heart I wished to be in a place where the ground lay still, and where there were trees, many trees. The world spun, and engulfed me in blackness.
