Disclaimer: all but three of the characters, the locales, and most of the plot are the property of whoever owns the copyrights

Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the locales, characters, races, etc. detailed in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and the Hobbit by JRR Tolkien. My use of them is strictly for entertainment purposes.

Every movie, legend, story, book, novel, poem, etc., is the mirror of an alternate universe. The imagination is an extra-sensory perception of alternate realities, and stories and poems are the way that we allow others to have a glimpse of this alternate reality. Time spans can and will be different, as many as a hundred years can pass in another reality in the same time span as a second in this reality. Likewise, a hundred years in this reality could be as little as a second in another. It is we—the dreamers and writers, the bards, who open these portals to others. Come; see how real the portal can be.

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Lorien

My first though when I came to was Aspirin...must...have...aspirin. I opened my eyes and then closed them against the midday sun. When I opened them again it was to see a beaming Tiffany, eyes sparkling with mischief, hanging over me. Presently Isabel's head drifted into my line of sight. I sat up, but quickly collapsed backwards because of the pain in my head. Izzie's voice admonished me, "They say you can't sit up yet, Nuala. You hit your head really hard on one of the tree thingamajiggers."

"Ugh. Who are 'they?' And where am I? And where's the aspirin?"

"'They' are the elves."

"Elves?" I cried incredulously.

"Yeah, they're the people with pointed ears," Tiffany broke in. "Hard to believe, huh?"

"Believe? Believe what? All I know is that prosthetics don't bleed, so those ears were weird, which makes him a freak. And what was with the whole medieval act? Stupid kidnappers."

Tiffany and Isabel glanced at each other, then back at me. Hesitantly, Isabel said, "Um…they're not kidnappers."

"Oh…wait, what? Then how did we wind up their prisoners?"

Tiffany chimed in. "Take a look around, Nu. Look at the trees."

They were all silver and gold, silver bark and golden leaves, like no tree that could really exist. "But, this is impossible…"

Her grin mirroring the mischief in her eyes, Tiffany said, "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore. We're in Middle Earth, not the good old US of A. And you missed a lot of stuff after you fainted. Including being carried by the blonde hottie."

"Huh. Oh…" I said. "How would you know that?"

"I woke up a few minutes after your…assault on him. Nice work, by the way. Remind me not to get in a fight with you. Isabel and I had to walk here."

"Where is here?"

"I think the elves called it Caras Galadhon. It's an elvish city. These woods are the Woods of Lothlorien; all of this forest is elvish territory."

"Oh, so that's what he meant when he called us trespassers."

"Yep. Anyway, a patrol found us and decided to bring us to the rulers, Celeborn and Galadriel. They wanted to carry you, but he wouldn't let them. Insisted on doing it himself."

"We're not quite sure what's going on yet, but those two are apparently important visitors. Maybe they're royalty! Wouldn't that be surprising?" Isabel chimed. I could see little matchmaking bells in her eyes.

"After what we've just been through, not that I know what it was yet, I don't think I'll ever be surprised again. Now...where's the aspirin? My head feels like it's been used for a battering ram."

"Don't be silly, Nuala. You don't need aspirin; we have elvish medicine now."

"Ah, I see that you are awake now."

I looked up when I heard his voice. He was leaning against a nearby tree, the marks I'd left on his face already beginning to heal. I cringed; they were nasty gashes, for all that they were shallow. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where we were, and I assumed you were to blame."

Amazingly, he smiled at me. "Not at all; you were clearly frightened by my companion and myself, yet you fought to defend yourself and your friends. I find that admirable."

The blush began to creep back into my cheeks. "Oh…well…"

"Come, the lord and lady desire an audience with the three of you. Perhaps then they can send you back where you came from, or at least aid you in your search. They are eager to hear your story, at the very least."

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The lord and lady were very gracious. Despite the pain—it now felt as though somebody was drilling through my skull with a jackhammer—I did my best to relate what had happened to us.

"So you opened a large tome, and the next thing you knew you were here?"

"Yes," I nodded, tried not to grimace. "I'm not sure what happened to bring us here."

"The answer seems clear," spoke the lady, who had remained silent up to now. "You must find the tome and open it again; only it can send you back. Haldir, you said there was nothing else of a foreign nature?"

"Yes. Only these women and the small bags they carry," a tall, imposing elf answered with a small bow.

Hesitantly, I addressed the elvish queen. "Milady, how will we find this volume? It could be anywhere."

"Well, the best place to look is undoubtedly a library, or hall of records. I think the best thing would be for you to make your way to the human city of Minas Tirith."

"Oh…where is that?"

"In the land of Gondor. We can discuss that later, though. You look unwell, and as we cannot send you home now, there is no need to worry about that now. You are welcome to the hospitality of the elves."

The elf I had met the night before stepped forward, speaking again in the musical language that I guess was the tongue of the elves. His dark companion also spoke. As the minutes passed, I could feel my knees shaking. My head injury must've been worse than I thought. Finally, they turned to us again. Isabel and Tiffany, who hadn't said a word, looked to me again.

"Ah, catch her!" Isabel cried, stepping forward as my knees gave away, but he was already there, steadying me, giving me a shoulder to lean on. Was this his way of apologizing for the misunderstanding last night?

Galadriel smiled, and her smile held a hint of sadness. "Go Legolas, inform them of the decision and see that she gets some rest."

He nodded, lifting me up as if I were a doll. "Umm…Legolas, is it?"

"Yes?" he said, looking at me as he carried me out of the hall.

"I think I can walk, you don't have to bother-"

"Not a bother, I assure you. However, it is a bother that we have not been introduced. I am Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. And you?"

A prince? A prince! I had called a prince a kidnapper! I had definitely not made a good start. "Umm…Fionnuala McCarran. You can call me Nuala though, everybody does."

He smiled, and his eyes seemed to laugh. "Well then, Nuala, you may call me Legolas."

Outside, an elvish healer came and did something that made me feel groggy. I could hear his heartbeat through the tunic…so calming…

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When I awoke again, I found myself surrounded by strange people. Tiffany and Isabel seemed a little uneasy and relieved that I was awake.

"Oh good! Now they can tell us what's going on," Tiffany said, sitting back. "So far, all we've gotten out of them is names. Blondie insisted on waiting for you to wake up before they did any serious explaining."

"Oh, that just sticks in your craw, huh Tiff? Since I know you're so concerned about me, I'm fine now, so go ahead and start talking. Once I've been introduced to everybody."

"I'll do the honors, since I know their names. Of course, you don't need to be introduced to Legolas," she said slyly. Just what was she implying with that tone? "This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He's a ranger and king in exile, as it were," she added, indicating the man with the sword who had been with Legolas.

"The man next to him is Boromir of Gondor; he's son of the steward—temp ruler, something like that. The four short guys are hobbits," she said, indicating a group of curly haired men with rather large feet for their short stature. Maybe four feet at best. "From left to right, they are Sam Gamgee, Frodo Baggins, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took. Whoo, glad I got all of that right. They come from this place called the Shire."

The one named Meriadoc spoke up. "Just call me Merry, and he's Pippin," he added, jabbing his companion in the side.

"Finally this fine fellow is Gimli son of Gloin, a dwarf," she said, indicating a stocky man not much taller than the hobbits, though significantly broader. He looked well armed—at least the part of him that wasn't swallowed up by beard and hair. "Guys, this is Nuala. I'm not gonna say her full name, cause I can't pronounce it, so just call her Nuala. Now, intros are done. Tell us what the heck is going on around here. What does Galadriel have planned?"

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Their tale was nothing if not intriguing, I'd give them that. They had heard about us already, so mainly they talked about all of the adventures they'd had. More importantly, they told us about an all-important mission. Sobered, I couldn't help but ask the question rattling around in my mind.

"So why tell us?"

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged looks again. This time, Aragorn answered my question. "As it is my intention to go to Gondor with Boromir after I have accompanied the ring bearer as far as I can, it has been decided that you three shall journey with us. It will be dangerous, but Galadriel cannot spare any elves to escort you to the city, and you will be safer with us than by yourself, alone in a foreign nation."

"Oh…" I said, mulling it over for a few minutes. "So in other words, you wanted us to understand what in blue blazes we were getting into."

"Er…right," he said, unfamiliar with my terminology but understanding the gist of what I said.

"Well, doesn't look like we have any other option, right guys? But I think it might help if you teach us how to fight, and get us better equipment than jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers."

Aragorn smiled, the first time I'd seen him do so. Wasn't a bad smile; he was actually good looking, now that I thought about it. Not as good-looking as Legolas though; my eyesight wandered over to him, then quickly dropped to the ground when his eyes found mine. "That was precisely what I was thinking, and the Lady Galadriel as well. Come," he said, motioning to a group of elves who had been standing nearby.

Quickly, they shooed the men away and began garbing us in elvish tunic and pants. It was weird being dressed by somebody else, but then, I had no idea how to put it on myself. The clothes were well made and durable, but still beautiful to eye and touch. The boots were well made and sturdy, though they had some trouble finding some small enough for our feet. The elves were a tall race, and none of us were exactly giants. Isabel was positively tiny, almost hobbit sized, and Tiffany wasn't much taller; I was the tallest of us.

After they had finished outfitting us, we went outside to meet with the company again. Aragorn had called them the Fellowship of the Ring, but it's such a long term that I preferred to use company. Isabel and Tiffany didn't care what they were called; they were too wrapped up in the romance of the adventure. Somehow, though, I didn't think it was going to be quite as fun as they intoned in their excited chatter.

Still, it was hard to be depressing when they were so obviously excited. Not to mention that pessimism would get us nowhere; I decided that optimism was the best policy. "Hey guys, what do you think we should learn first?"

"I dunno," Tiffany said. "I guess that would depend on what weapons they give us, you know?"

Aragorn was waiting for us with a wide variety of weapons, some of which resembled those carried by the Lorien guards, some of which didn't. "Excellent. Now that you are appropriately dressed, we can see what you show an affinity for. Nuala, take this," he said, handing me a shorter bow from the pile. "Can you draw it?"

In answer, I took it from him and held it in my right hand, left on the bowstring, and pulled back like I had seen it done so many times on TV. I met with some resistance, but the string pulled back smoothly. I released it with a twang. "Is that good?"

It was hard to read their expressions. "I see you use the offhand," Aragorn said, gesturing to my hold on the bow. "Can you use both, or is that your dominant hand?"

"Um…I'm not ambidextrous…that is, I can't use both. I pretty much use my left hand for everything."

"I see…"Aragorn glanced at Legolas, then shrugged. "Well, it is of little matter. You have no problem drawing the bow, but your form will need work. Legolas, I entrust her to your capable hands. See if she has an aptitude for it. Now, Tiffany, I want you to try it," he said, handing her another bow as I followed Legolas a small distance away where a target had been set up.

"I judge by your form that you have never held a bow before," he said, handing me an arrow.

"Eh heh, that bad huh? Well, I only know this much from watching Robin of Sherwood, so I guess I can't complain if I suck at it," I said wryly, half-smiling at him. "What should I do first?"

"Face me, so that your right side is toward the target. There; now extend your arm with the bow out straight, level with your shoulder. Let's see…no, raise your hand a touch," he said, putting his hand under my elbow and shifting the position of my arm. "You have the arrow?"

"Yeah. Put it against the string?"

"Yes. Have the arrow to the right of the bow, toward your body. Now, draw the string."

I fumbled a bit with the arrow, but once I had it in position I drew the string easily, then held it. I could feel the pull in my muscles, but it wasn't a strain. Suddenly, I felt arms around me and realized that he had stepped up right behind me, placing one hand over mine on the bow and pushing my elbow down with the other. "You want your fingers holding the string a little below your chin, with your thumb parallel to your chin line."

Not good, I thought. Should not be thinking about proximity when I had a dangerous weapon in my hand. Should not be thinking about the mere inches between him and me and whether or not I stink cause I haven't showered in over a day. He smelled of sweat and leather, which surprised me. I didn't think that elves could sweat; they looked so elegant and, I dunno, otherworldly.

"Keep your mind on the target, don't let it wander. In a fight, that would be a death sentence."

Right. Don't get distracted by the fact that his mouth is oh….FIVE inches from my ear. That tickles, damn it. Focus, focus, focus. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. Had I ever been this close to a guy? No; never having had a boyfriend, or even a real serious date, and wrestling with my brother didn't count. Setting my teeth, I forced my mind back to the target. Only the target.

"Sight down the shaft with your good eye…and release." Twang! I nearly collapsed with relief that I hadn't shot myself in the foot. Course, I'd barely grazed the target, but I could always claim extenuating circumstances. Besides, I'm pretty sure any bad guys wouldn't be holding my arms and breathing in my ear while I tried to shoot them, so I figured I was in good shape.

It was hard to tell if Legolas shared my opinion though. Examining where the arrow fell and the target, he simply nodded to himself and told me to fire ten more arrows, without any guidance from him, and as fast as I comfortably could. Without his physical presence to distract me, my aim improved considerably, and as I neared the last arrow my movements began to be almost fluid, instead of jerky and clumsy.

When 8 out of ten arrows quivered in the target, some of them pretty close to the center, I lowered the bow and looked at him again. "Very good. Come, let us go back to the others."

He said nothing else on the way back, which made me wonder if his earlier garrulous behavior was a fluke. I mean, none of the other elves were even as vocal as him, so I guessed that they weren't a super chatty bunch. I mean, they certainly liked to sing, and I think some of it was reciting poetry, going by the lyrical quality of the words and the length of their speeches, but as far as straight-up conversation went, I was pretty sure they were at a negative one out of ten.

Tiffany had clearly been at the same exercises as myself, but without my success. Arrows quivered in everything except the target, and the hobbits and Isabel had taken to hiding behind a tree some ten feet behind her. As we approached, I heard Aragorn laugh and tell Tiffany that the only use a bow would have in her hands would be as an impromptu club, so she'd best stick to swordplay.

Turning casually to us, he asked, "And how did she fare? I'm certain it could not have been worse than Tiffany's performance," he added, a grin on his face. It was good to see that he was not always somber.

"Very well, Aragorn. She has a good grasp of it, and with some training should be able to wield a bow effectively. I recommend that she be given one."

"Well, high praise coming from one of the best archers in Mirkwood. I'll leave her bow training to you, but I suggest that she have a knife as well. Are you comfortable in teaching her how to use that as well?"

"Certainly. Has Isabel tried with the bow?" Legolas nodded in her direction. "Or has she just been cowering behind a tree?"

"Hey, that's not fair! Tiffany's dangerous with that thing, and not in a good way where she can attack evil things that are trying to kill us!" Isabel said, popping her head out around the tree. Seeing that the coast was clear, she stepped forward. "Do I get to play with it too?"

"A bow is not a toy," Aragorn said, rolling his eyes in a very human gesture. I realized that I had been expecting him to be very different, what with being a king and all, but he seemed like a normal guy. Not haughty or bad-tempered, just reserved. And maybe a little sad, like there was some weight pressing down on him. He had lost one of his friends on this journey already, but I doubted that was the only thing.

Watching Isabel, I was able to understand what I must have looked like, though I took a small amount of pride that I seemed to catch on to it quicker. Isabel definitely showed more ability than Tiffany, and Aragorn decided that she should carry a bow as well, though he recommended that she learn how to use a sword.

"Legolas, why don't I get a sword?" I asked in a low tone.

"You could have one, if you wish it. However, your skill seems to be sufficient for you to still use a bow in close quarters. Isabel's is not."

"But isn't point blank range easier?"

"To aim, yes, but in the commotion of battle you have less time to think. Your response time must be faster."

"Oh. You really think I can handle that? I mean, I'm no Robin Hood or William Tell." At his puzzled expression, I added, "They're legendary bowmen where I come from."

Smiling, he nodded and said, "Well, legend you may not be, but with a few weeks training, I'm sure that you're skills will be sufficient. Also, I will show you how to wield a knife."

His arm moved, swift as lightning, and drew a bone-handled knife from its sheath in the blink of an eye. Turning the handle to me, he motioned for me to take it from him. It was well balanced, the bone warming in my hand as I gripped it tightly. "Even I cannot use a bow at all times; that is why it is best to have a second weapon. Do not grip it so tightly; it should feel like an extension of your arm, not a club in your hand."

I relaxed my grip, trying not to tighten my hold on what I knew was a deadly weapon. "Better. It will feel awkward now, but in time it too will become more natural for you."

"Thanks," I said, handing it back to him. "You know, you're an excellent teacher; I'm glad your gonna be training me how to do this stuff. I just hope you have lots of patience, cause you'll need it."

"All elves have patience," he smiled. "As for teaching, you learn quickly, which makes it easy to teach you. Though you must learn to relax; your first arrow went astray because of the tension in your body."

"Oh, yeah…of course," I said, turning away as I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. And who was responsible for that tension? I rest my case.

"For now though, I think you should rest. That was a nasty fall you took."

"Oh, I'm fine; really, it's no bother," though come to think about it. "Um…but I would like a chance to bathe."

"That can be arranged."

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As I splashed in the shallows of the river, the cold water running off of me, I was able to relax a little more. Tension I hadn't known was nesting in my muscles just seemed to dissolve with the current. I couldn't undress fully, but I could at least sponge off the worst of the dirt and grime, even under the loose tunic and pants. As I bent to wash my face, though, I heard a tremendous splash. A log had come rolling into the river.

One of the hobbits, the one called Sam, started running into the water, stopped dead when Merry and Pippin caught his shoulders. "No! Mr. Frodo!"

"You can't swim, Sam," they chorused, dragging him back towards shore. Isabel had come running up behind them and plunged into the river. "Nuala! Frodo's not coming up! We were playing around, and he was inside that log when it started rolling away!"

Without hesitation I dove into the water, opening my eyes despite the sting. I could see Frodo, no longer in the log, but not moving upward. He didn't seem to be moving. Desperately, I swam down as fast as I could, hooking my hands under his armpits and scissor kicking upward. For such a short guy, he weighed a lot, and I struggled to move until Isabel came and added her strength to mine.

Our heads broke water a good ten yards down the river. " I got him, Isabel," I gasped over the water, shifting into a sidestroke, my right arm tucked around Frodo's chest, hand under his left arm. Isabel swam alongside me, ready to take him if needed. I could feel my strength flagging a little against the power of the current, but from some hidden reserve I gathered enough power, enough adrenaline, to pus the two of us to shore.

Willing hands dragged Frodo out of the shallows. I just sat there, breath wheezing raggedly in and out of my lungs as water poured down my face and out of my hair.

"He's not breathing! Sam, he's not breathing!" Somebody, I thought it was Pippin, gasped. Sam was keening like a wounded dog.

"Hey, let me through!" Isabel pushed them roughly aside, pulling Frodo's head out of Sam's lap and onto the ground, into a rescue position. Hands reached to pull her back, but Tiffany kicked them in the shins, shielding Isabel with her body.

"Let her work guys," Tiffany said.

"By kissing him? How is that going to help!" Pippin cried, trying to shove past her.

"Not…a kiss," I gasped. Louder, "Not a kiss. Mouth…to mouth. She's breathing for him."

Gently hands reached down and pulled me to my feet, supporting the weight my limbs were too tired to hold. "Breathing for him?"

I nodded weakly, still gulping air into my lungs, though my breathing was steadier. "She's breathing in deep and then forcing the air into his lungs, making him breathe. Watch!"

Suddenly, Frodo began to cough, water spewing from his mouth as his eyes opened and he gasped for air. Relieved, Sam seized him in a rib-cracking hug before Isabel could pull him off. "Let him go Sam," she said soothingly, her voice not betraying the heartfelt relief in her eyes. "He just started breathing again, and you want to crush his ribs? Give him a minute."

"Wha…what happened?" Frodo gasped, sitting upright and looking from Sam to Isabel.

"Oh, I just saved your life. Nuala helped pull you to shore," Isabel said flippantly, back to her old self. "The log started to roll downhill, and you must have banged your head on one of the thingamajiggers inside, cause when it hit the water you didn't come up. Now see," she said, rounding on Pippin. "I wasn't kissing him, so there!"

"K-kiss?" Frodo said, blushing, glancing up at Isabel. She was glaring at Pippin, who looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock, so she didn't notice, but I did. This was certainly turning out to be a strange day.