A/N: I have to take this moment to apologise for not updating for so long. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry. I've decided to continue with this. It won't be a reality-Sue – well, it'll try and show the suffering of the fellowship as much as possible in that context – but if it were a real Reality-Sue, then neither Susie nor Ginny would be there. Let us just say... I intend to punish the Mary Sue(s) as much as possible.

I'd like to thank all those who have read and reviewed, and a thank you to Obi-Zahn Kenobi– for your helpful advice. May I just take this moment now to say that all bad Elvish from Susie's mouth is intentional.

This chapter may deal with, ahem, womanly issues. If you are peevish about these things: sorry, but tough. Feel free to skip this chapter. If your initials just happen to be M.B, my good acquaintance and familiar hypocrite, also: tough. I guess this idea was partly inspired by you, its purpose to irk you as much as my sanity allows.

To all: enjoy!


Ten: Surfing the Crimson Wave

Ginny woke before everyone else, noticing that the sky was a dark shade of purple. Sam, who was supposed to be on guard, was resting his head on his backpack, snoring.

"You're doing a great job, Samwise." She whispered, and he snorted gently.

It was, what, how many days since days since they'd set off? It had been only a couple since Susie had dropped in so kindly on them, and already she was being accepted into the Fellowship. Worse, she was now being trusted by the Fellowship, though Ginny had a feeling not by all. It turns out that Gimli had the most sense after all. He'd been much more restless without an Elf to banter with. And Legolas' absence had meant it had taken much longer to get down Caradhras. Ginny missed him. He was someone she could talk to sometimes, that wasn't obsessed with mushrooms.

She blinked heavily and rubbed her eyes, and scrambled around her pockets, finally coming up with the now rather twisted glasses. She bent them back into shape with her fingers, wiping the lenses clean with her now grey shirt. Putting them on made the world a clearer place.

Sitting next to the doused campfire was Susie, sleeping, huddled in a foetus position; but what was strange was the fact that she was wearing her blanket over her head. And she was also murmuring and rocking back and forth.

"Susie," Ginny shook her awake rather forcefully. She gave no quarters in being cruel to her, because she was guaranteed to get the same treatment back.

"What?" was the muffled answer. Ginny tugged the blanket off. There was a yelp, and Susie's pale hand yanked it back, over her face.

"What's wrong with you? Are you sick? In which case you should've thought of that before you came here!"

Her companion said nothing, but continued in her previous fashion, murmuring, head covered with the grey blanket. Only a few more rounds at tug of war broke her will.

"All RIGHT!" Susie cried, when the blanket had finally been taken out of her reach. Hiding her face in her hands she whispered deathly, "I have a spot."

There was a long silent pause. Sam's snores increased in volume.

"A spot?! A pimple? A blemish? A zit? . . . You!" Ginny laughed, "Who'd have thought it?"

Susie scowled. She showed her face. There was indeed a spot. It was very pink, very large, and on the tip of her nose. She covered it quickly so Ginny didn't have time to stare.

"Yes." Was the hushed reply, "You don't happen to have any concealer on you?"

"No. But I'll remember the next time I pack for a journey to MIDDLE EARTH to DESTROY THE RING."

There was stirring in the bedrolls behind them.

"What's going on?" Aragorn asked gruffly. Susie shrieked and pulled the blanket over her face again.

"Susie's got a spot." Ginny said matter-of-factly, and was immediately hit by a stray cloak/pillow.

"Shut up!"

"You shut it! Besides, it's not like your love interest's going to see it! He's in England! Or have you forgotten?"

"Quiet, the two of you!" Gandalf shouted, banging his staff onto the rock floor, "There are important things we must discuss today, and now is not the time to be discovered by the spies of Sauron OR Saruman. Elbereth, give me peace." He added.

The two girls settled, still giving each other evil glances. Gandalf cleared his throat.

"Sam, get the supplies ready. Aragorn, you are to lead for today. Merry, collect the sheets. Pippin, stock Bill. Ginny, you will make yourself be quiet."

Ginny was scowling and murmuring quietly.

"Where do we head now, Gandalf?" said Frodo.

Gandalf hesitated, "We have no choice but to go on, or to return to Rivendell."

The hobbits brightened at the thought of Rivendell, even Ginny seemed hopeful. But it was not to be. She knew it already.

"I wish I was back there," said Frodo, speaking up, "But how can I return without shame – unless there is indeed no other way, and we are already defeated?"

Gandalf was about to answer, but Susie interrupted, forgetting her shameful spot.

"We cannot return! The Ring is too great to suppress! The only way is forward! The RING MUST BE DESTROYED!"

She regained her breath, chest heaving and eyes sparkling with hope. She looked round expectantly.

"Well?" she said, "Aren't you going to cheer?"

There was a pause.

"Why?" spoke Boromir, "You have already made your point clear. And we are going now, so you must hurry, for it would be a great shame if you were left behind." If Susie noticed the sarcasm in the man's voice, she made no reaction, but packed up her things and ran behind.

They were to go on.


LaRose flicked the lamp on and directed the beam into Legolas' eyes. He squinted and tried to move his chair farther back.

"Now," the lady said, calmly, "let's try again."

The seated elf made no answer.

"What is your name?" She asked.

Legolas paused for a moment, and as if trying to recite a poem or a story, said

"Leonard Green . . . is that right?"

"Yes, very good. Now, repeat the rest of what I taught you."

Legolas sighed and began.

"My name is Leonard Green, I live at 66 St. Matthews Street with my mother's – aunt's – grandniece—"

"--Maybe we should just shorten that to 'cousin'--"

"--With my cousin . . . er, Ruth. Um. I was born in Helsinki in nineteen eighty one, but moved to England as an ex-ex—"

"—Exchange student—"

"—Exchange student. I study... metallurgy and pre-renaissance existences. My parents are from Glasgow and Kentucky, called Earl and Jane--"

"--Hang on. I don't want him to be called 'Earl Green'. Sounds too much like tea. Timothy: lets call him that."

"Why?" said Ruth, "it sounds nothing like 'Thranduil'"

"Yes, but only someone with that kind of name would call their son Leonard. What about Thorold?"

"Oh, right then."

The elf shifted uncomfortably in his chair, silent as the two women talked. They were in LaRose's basement, and there weren't any windows. He could see quite a few spiders out the corner of his eyes, but they were miniscule, nothing like the ones in Greenwood. He knew his accent was terrible, but he was a quick learner, after all.

He sighed. He was supposed to be saving the world, not trying to mask his Elven ears with sticky plasters and learning to speak English.

Outside, a tall, graceful woman knocked on the front door. At the sound of the three decisive raps on wood, the two women jumped.

"Oh, F-" said LaRose, "It's my doctor."

Ruth stared at her mother, "Are you sick?"

"No... she's just, um, well she's a ... consultant."

"You never told me about any of this..."

"Shut up girl and get Mr. Mirkwood away from here!" was the snapping reply.

Legolas grumbled in sindarin as Ruth led him back up two narrow flights of stairs into the remains of a rather sooty attic. She closed the door lightly behind her, and listened for her mother's haughty voice greeting the new arrival. The young doctor's voice was clear and stiff.

"What do we do now?" Legolas asked her quietly. His eyes narrowed at the sound of the intruder's voice.

"Now?" Ruth sat down on a card crate, "Now we wait."


Through meadow and cliff they travelled, always silent, save for the clip- clop of bill's hooves, and the hobbits complaining about how hungry they were.

Susie was becoming more and more quiet, her face contorted in a permanent frown. Her hand rarely strayed from the spot on her nose.

Finally, walking beside her, Ginny couldn't stand it anymore.

"WHAT is wrong with you?!" she yelled at her companion, "It's just a spot!"

"I never get spots. Never ever." She replied, her voice low and warning.

"That's stupid. Everyone gets spots."

"I don't. Ever. Unless..." she looked down, and bit her lip. Then she promptly burst into tears.

The fellowship turned to look at her, Boromir and Gimli snorting in disgust. Pippin half-wanted to go to her, but Merry held him back.

"What, what?" Ginny said in a low voice.

Susie whispered in her ear, when she thought no one was listening, "Unless... that time of the month has come." She bit her lip, eyes bleary, as if this were the greatest shame ever visited upon a stunning teenage prodigy.

There were a few moments as Ginny digested this information. Somehow, her ears didn't register with her brain.

"Um." Was all she could say.

"I know," Susie whispered softly, as if she were pronouncing her own death sentence, "Do you have any... you know... amenities?"

"You mean... pads or tampons?"

Susie turned with the speed of sound, and her finger jumped to her lips, saying "Shh!"

Ginny gave her a withering look.

"You don't have to take it like you're 'unclean', you know. This may be the dark ages, but the people aren't that cruel. I don't think they'd know what a tampon is, let alone what they're for."

"No! No! It's bad enough as it is!" Susie blew her nose, sobbing, "I'm a teenage girl in Middle Earth with no way back; my lover has disappeared, thanks to my mistake; I have to put on makeup because I've burnt my eyebrows; I have a giant spot on the end of my nose; I'm wearing a carriage gown in the freezing winter; I have no horse and I'M ABOUT TO HAVE A FUCKING PERIOD!!!"

She wailed loudly, but the Fellowship was too far ahead to hear her; either that, or they were deliberately ignoring her. Ginny, feeling embarrassed, patted her gently on the shoulder. Susie cried miserably and hugged her tightly, not letting go of her arms despite the smell. She looked so pathetic that Ginny almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

Something must have happened within Ginny's subconscious, because she decided to be charitable, and gave her the sanitary pads she had taken with her, that she always kept in her school bag. She knew she would regret this; it may turn to be her time of the month soon, and she would have no supplies left. But she just couldn't stand the wailing the blonde girl gave.

There was barely enough to last two days anyway. She gave Susie some privacy that night, as they sat around the non-existent campfire, and helpfully waited for her as Susie popped, red faced, into the bushes and emerged some time later, flushing badly. Ginny had explained to her, that when the kotex/bodyform supply was exhausted, the two girls would have to turn less hygienic solutions. The situation spelt rags. When the two were alone, Ginny showed her the cotton cloths Vireth had packed for her, designed to act as a medieval pantyliner. She told her what the maid from Rivendell had taught her, about how to use the rags. Susie said nothing throughout the tuition, her face a mask of acceptance.

The few soiled pads would have to be disposed by digging a hole in the ground and burying them. Their plastic parts wouldn't disintegrate, but hopefully, spies wouldn't discover them. Rags... were worse. They would have to be washed everyday, and changed everyday, and there was barely enough water as it was. Ginny sighed, something she did on a regular basis now.

Ginny didn't know why she was being so nice - she of all people wanted to see Susie suffer here; but when you had Frodo, Sam, Gandalf and Boromir... their lives would never be the same after this.

And what about her? She couldn't stay here. Somewhere she knew she had to return to earth, but how, and when? Would she ever be the same? Could she return to normal life? Well, she knew the answer could never be 'yes'. She would be outcasted, even more so than now, and people would think she was a freak. They wouldn't believe her if she told them the truth, and she planned not to tell. She missed her parents, she really did; and her annoying brother and his annoying guitar groupies that used to gang up on her. She missed chocolate, and the Simpson's on TV. She missed hairdryers and electric showers. Most of all she missed her toothbrush. While reading the books and watching the films, it never occurred to her the daily torture the fellowship had to face. Everyone was paranoid; even trying to shit in the morning became a matter of life and death.

And there was the whole niggling problem of 'Middle Earth didn't exist'. She'd tried to ignore it up to now, but at night, it left her extremely sleepless. She often pondered the exact nature of this world, where magic was a force that could be controlled, just like gravity. Was it a parallel world, whose existence ran beside her own; or was it as Tolkien sometimes said: that Middle earth was real, but faded long ago before human history?

So which Middle earth was she in? Parallel world Middle earth, or Back-in- time Middle Earth? Either way, Tolkien must have come here, and recorded all that she recorded, learn all that he learnt, and wrote it down in a book. This was where he may have been. This was what he had seen. This train of thought was the cause of much insomnia.

So if she was here, and everything was the same as the book had recounted, it stood to reason that she had gone back in history. She had, essentially, gone back in time.

And that thought was not thrilling. It sent a chill down her back, and she felt cold, as feelings of loneliness swept over her. She didn't belong here. She was lost. Lost forever in this fantasy world...

There was a loud snap. The sound penetrated the cold night.

Ginny woke up in a cold sweat, lying on the damp earth. Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She looked around her surroundings. The others were sleeping now, and Susie was lying peacefully, after another trip to a concealing bush. There were two pads left. She was also supposed to be on guard. The rounded bedrolls around her were a comforting sight.

She blinked, rubbing her eyes, and blackness appeared inside her eyelids, an image of a black orb. She shook her head, as the nightly sounds of the fellowship returned to her ears.

All the members of the Fellowship had a different kind of snore. She now found she could identify who was asleep and who wasn't. Aragorn, who hardly ever slept anyway, had a low and quiet ranger snore. Gandalf's was wheezy; Gimli's gruff. Pippin had a certain trill to his breathing when he inhaled, and Merry desperately needed vocal surgery. Surprisingly, Frodo was the loudest snorer, but he also had the most nightmares. This meant Sam slept less than his master, and also more quietly. Legolas, during his brief time with the Fellowship, did not snore, but Ginny took care not to camp near him because he would sleep with both eyes open, which is not a nice sight when you wake up at 2 am.

Boromir always slept soundly, like a soldier, and was always early to wake. He growled in his sleep a lot, and once, Ginny saw him smiling, as if in a nostalgic dream. The sight of him happy brought tears to her eyes, that one day, this mighty and noble soldier would die in guilt defending his comrades.

There was a growl from the trees.

She blinked again, wondering if she was going crazy. Then she remembered she was in Middle earth. She couldn't get any crazier. There had been the nightly ritual of pinching herself on her left forearm, but so far it still proved ineffective.

There was another growl. It was closer.

She definitely didn't imagine it this time. In the impending darkness, pairs of red eyes glowed, making her back muscles tighten as she gasped for breath. Her memory flashed back to her Rings books, as she tried to recount exactly what happened to the Fellowship at this time. It had been far too long since she'd read the books, but she knew that something happened to them between Caradhras and Moria: They were attacked by wolves. As her heart rate sped up, she frantically whispered to her fellow sleepers, trying to whisper their names.

She looked at the innumerable pairs of red eyes; sweat beading on her forehead.

"Oh shit." She said.