Disclaimer - No, mi nombre no es Tolkien. Yo no soy Tolkien. Él fue inteligente. Soy un poco estúpido. ¿Entiendes? ¡Bueno!
A/N - Okay. So I haven't updated for a while. I know that. You see, I discovered fictionpress.com and I've been busy there. :o) Updates from now on should be a bit faster . . . I hope. Maybe not.
Nightfall found Anna shut in her room, poring over Sauron Defeated and making notes on a piece of parchment as to what was different and what was the same, only to stop, frustrated, and drop the pen she was using to write. Somehow she felt that everything she was doing was futile, in vain, that nothing she did would be able to repair the major breach of canon that her prescence had caused.
"I don't understand!" She cried, slamming her book down on the table. "I haven't done anything! The only thing I did that wasn't mentioned in the story was attend the Council - and I don't even know why Elrond let me!"
"He wanted you to attend for he thought that your appearance was significant, another strange event in a chain of odd happenings. He thought that perhaps if you were allowed to attend the council you might find someone that spoke a language you knew, someone that you could communicate with." Sîrwen, standing in the doorway, said calmly.
Anna turned around abruptly. "How long have you been standing there?" She asked, suddenly fearing that Sîrwen might have heard too much.
"Long enough to hear you ask why you were allowed to attend the Council when it was clear you had nothing to tell." Sîrwen replied calmly.
"I did have something to offer - but I did not think that I was allowed to tell what it was. Now I'm afraid that it's all ruined." She closed her eyes and put her head down on the table. "I know what's going to happen but it's the wrong thing - and now I'm afraid that I've changed the course of events, made things change for the worse." She muttered, her cheek pressed flat against the table.
"What do you mean, 'changed the course of events'? What is this of which you speak?"
Alarmed at the tone of voice that Sîrwen had taken, Anna stammered, "Nothing. Nothing at all."
"If it were nothing," said Sîrwen calmly, "You would not try to hide it."
"It is nothing - and I shall continue to hide it. I did tell Lord Elrond -but he did not believe me." Anna admitted grudgingly.
"I understand. If you do not wish to speak of such things, that is your will. However, I would try to tell Elrond again, before he asks where such strange texts -" here she nodded towards the copy of Sauron Defeated - "are found."
Anna sighed. "I know. And I will."
The next morning, she ventured into Elrond's study, ready to tell him the truth, prepared with the books to back up her story.
She pushed open the door, half hoping that the elf-lord would be nowhere nearby. "Lord Elrond?" She called out softly, waiting for a reply.
"Yes, Anna?" Elrond Peredhel looked up from the book that he reading. "What is it you need?"
She paused, for lack of words. "I - there's something I have to tell you. I know it's going to sound really far-fetched, but - I have to let you know."
"Very well - I am listening."
She took a deep breath. "I've tried to tell you this before, but you didn't believe me. In my world, Arda is made-up. It's a story, written by a man with the last name of Tolkien. He invented all of this - made up everything about your world and what is in it. He invented Elves and Hobbits; he made up the story of the One Ring. In my world, everything that exists here is not real. This entire place is fictional."
Elrond stared at her blankly. "You mean to say that our world is not real?"
"No - at least, not where I come from. Here you're real enough, but there, you're not. Look - here are copies of the books that Tolkien wrote." She dumped them on the table. "The Lord of the Rings. He wrote them about Frodo and his quest. Everyone here is in them. Except for me. I wasn't written into the story. I shouldn't be here. That's why things have gone all wrong lately - I've been here, making a mess of things."
Elrond looked down at the books, then back up at her. Almost at once a look of understanding dawned across his face. He picked up a copy of the book. "Suddenly everything is clear. I knew at your arrival that there was something not quite right with the way things were happening - you should not have been at the Council. And yet, you were. Something has changed - something is not right. You must be sent back to where you came from."
"I know," Anna whispered, "But how?"
A thoughtful look crossed Elrond's face. "The Istari might, if they were asked to do such a thing."
"Yes - but no one knows what became of the two Blue Istari, and Gandalf and Saruman cannot be reached . . ." She trailed off, losing hope.
"Nor Ragadast. Surely there must be some way that you can be returned to your home . . ." Elrond replied.
"I can't think of a way, not without asking the Valar themselves for help." She admitted.
Elrond gave her a level look. "Nor can I."
A/N - Okay. So I haven't updated for a while. I know that. You see, I discovered fictionpress.com and I've been busy there. :o) Updates from now on should be a bit faster . . . I hope. Maybe not.
Nightfall found Anna shut in her room, poring over Sauron Defeated and making notes on a piece of parchment as to what was different and what was the same, only to stop, frustrated, and drop the pen she was using to write. Somehow she felt that everything she was doing was futile, in vain, that nothing she did would be able to repair the major breach of canon that her prescence had caused.
"I don't understand!" She cried, slamming her book down on the table. "I haven't done anything! The only thing I did that wasn't mentioned in the story was attend the Council - and I don't even know why Elrond let me!"
"He wanted you to attend for he thought that your appearance was significant, another strange event in a chain of odd happenings. He thought that perhaps if you were allowed to attend the council you might find someone that spoke a language you knew, someone that you could communicate with." Sîrwen, standing in the doorway, said calmly.
Anna turned around abruptly. "How long have you been standing there?" She asked, suddenly fearing that Sîrwen might have heard too much.
"Long enough to hear you ask why you were allowed to attend the Council when it was clear you had nothing to tell." Sîrwen replied calmly.
"I did have something to offer - but I did not think that I was allowed to tell what it was. Now I'm afraid that it's all ruined." She closed her eyes and put her head down on the table. "I know what's going to happen but it's the wrong thing - and now I'm afraid that I've changed the course of events, made things change for the worse." She muttered, her cheek pressed flat against the table.
"What do you mean, 'changed the course of events'? What is this of which you speak?"
Alarmed at the tone of voice that Sîrwen had taken, Anna stammered, "Nothing. Nothing at all."
"If it were nothing," said Sîrwen calmly, "You would not try to hide it."
"It is nothing - and I shall continue to hide it. I did tell Lord Elrond -but he did not believe me." Anna admitted grudgingly.
"I understand. If you do not wish to speak of such things, that is your will. However, I would try to tell Elrond again, before he asks where such strange texts -" here she nodded towards the copy of Sauron Defeated - "are found."
Anna sighed. "I know. And I will."
The next morning, she ventured into Elrond's study, ready to tell him the truth, prepared with the books to back up her story.
She pushed open the door, half hoping that the elf-lord would be nowhere nearby. "Lord Elrond?" She called out softly, waiting for a reply.
"Yes, Anna?" Elrond Peredhel looked up from the book that he reading. "What is it you need?"
She paused, for lack of words. "I - there's something I have to tell you. I know it's going to sound really far-fetched, but - I have to let you know."
"Very well - I am listening."
She took a deep breath. "I've tried to tell you this before, but you didn't believe me. In my world, Arda is made-up. It's a story, written by a man with the last name of Tolkien. He invented all of this - made up everything about your world and what is in it. He invented Elves and Hobbits; he made up the story of the One Ring. In my world, everything that exists here is not real. This entire place is fictional."
Elrond stared at her blankly. "You mean to say that our world is not real?"
"No - at least, not where I come from. Here you're real enough, but there, you're not. Look - here are copies of the books that Tolkien wrote." She dumped them on the table. "The Lord of the Rings. He wrote them about Frodo and his quest. Everyone here is in them. Except for me. I wasn't written into the story. I shouldn't be here. That's why things have gone all wrong lately - I've been here, making a mess of things."
Elrond looked down at the books, then back up at her. Almost at once a look of understanding dawned across his face. He picked up a copy of the book. "Suddenly everything is clear. I knew at your arrival that there was something not quite right with the way things were happening - you should not have been at the Council. And yet, you were. Something has changed - something is not right. You must be sent back to where you came from."
"I know," Anna whispered, "But how?"
A thoughtful look crossed Elrond's face. "The Istari might, if they were asked to do such a thing."
"Yes - but no one knows what became of the two Blue Istari, and Gandalf and Saruman cannot be reached . . ." She trailed off, losing hope.
"Nor Ragadast. Surely there must be some way that you can be returned to your home . . ." Elrond replied.
"I can't think of a way, not without asking the Valar themselves for help." She admitted.
Elrond gave her a level look. "Nor can I."