Intermission

This was originally an Author's Note, but since writing this story, has stopped allowed Authors' Notes, so I'm changing it to an Intermission and adding in a deleted scene (the original version of Chapter LIX: The Sorrowful Tale of Ian The Skull).

IMPORTANT NOTICE: Part II is currently being rewritten. I deleted all the chapters for Part II that were posted, and I know some people are going to be mad at me for this, but it needed to be done. I didn't like what I was doing with Part II in terms of pacing and writing, so I'm rewriting a lot of it - enough of it that I couldn't just replace each chapter and keep the other ones. I'm also doing some important edits to Part I of The Skipper. I will keep track of it here, so those of you who are interested can re-read the new chapters as they come out.

Progress Updates:

Anachronism: Round 1 of Edits Completed

Anamnesis: Written to Ch 4

ANSWERS TO RANDOM QUESTIONS I HAVE RECEIVED IN REVIEWS OR JUST FEEL NEED CLARIFICATION:

Is there a Part Two?

Yes.

How do you say Ana's name?

Honestly, I don't get worked up over whether people say my characters' names right (mainly because I can't pronounce anything myself). If you've been saying her name as Anna all this time, keep doing it. But for those of you who are curious: Ana = Ah-nat. And in Part Two, Anren = Ahn-ren.

How did you come up with this story?

It all started from a joke between me and my best friend when we went to see The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. We're both huge LOTR nerds, and we had so many inside jokes about the books and movies. Being the writer that I am, I decided to write a story incorporating those jokes. Except I wanted both LOTR and The Hobbit in the story, so of course, the only solution in time travel. And then, I got to thinking about all the negative affects of time travel, and slowly, the plot of The Skipper evolved from there.

How can I be a part of the Cool Points Scale?

Plus One Hundred Points for reading this story.

There you go. You are now a part of the CPS. Everyone starts at 0 and you just start adding and subtracting. Feel free to add other people. It's easy. You just go up to a random strange and say, "Minus Ten Thousand CPS for talking on the phone while ordering coffee! Think of the poor baristas." and then you explain the CPS to everyone in the store. Congratulations, you have spread the CPS.

Where can I find fanart for this story?

All the links to fanart are on my profile. Except FF doesn't seem to like me, and the links aren't working right now. Try this link without the spaces and parentheses: fallen003 .deviantart (.com) /favourites/54827686/FanArt-for-the-Skipper

If you have created fanart for this story, but you don't see it on the page, please let me know so I can correct that mistake. Thank you to everyone who had drawn fanart for this story!

What is the reason Ana Skipped without the Senturiel?

That is what I call a spoiler and it is frowned upon in most societies. (It shall be addressed in Part Two.)

What on EARTH just happened!?

You'll just have to wait until the next chapter (or the next twenty chapters) to find out.

Do you drop not-so-subtle hints of Ana's backstory and who "You" is throughout the story?

Yes. For example, if you go back and read the chapter Beardless and Blond, Dis tells Ana the story of dwarvish legend, Geirfast the Stone Biter. And if you read all of Ana's comments to "You", "You" actually has Thorin's personality.

What does Thorin do when he's drunk?

It's a secret known only to the dwarven people. It is one of their most highly kept secrets. No one, not even a hobbit with high majestic potential, can know of it.

How do you manage to update so much in such a short amount of time?

30% Inspiration. 30% Motivation. 35% I have the entire story planned out in detail. 5% The fact that I type at 60 WPM.

Why haven't you updated in so long?

When I'm not inspired, I'm not inspired. I know it sucks for all my readers, but that's just the way it goes. I also started The Skipper as a senior in high school, and since then, my writing style has changed a lot and it can be difficult to go back and try to match my old writing style. I promise you all though, I have not forgotten The Skipper. I love this story, and I will finish it. One day.

Will there ever be romance?

Probably yes. I've always been back and forth on the romance. But if it happens, it'll happen in Part II.

Why must you do this to us?

Because it's fun.

DELETED VERSION Chapter LIX: The Sorrowful Tale of Ian The Skull

I was lying on my back with a skull on my stomach. I opened my eyes. In the dim light of the moon, a skull's empty sockets stared at me. I stared back at the empty sockets. It was an intense moment, I tell you.

"I shall name you Ian," I said.

The skull did not approve or disapprove of my name choice, so I assumed it was acceptable.

"Ian," I said. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

He did not respond. I guess he was directionally challenged as well.

I sat up, placing a hand on the back of Ian's head to prevent him from rolling off my stomach. We were sitting on a cobblestone road placed into one of the curving hillsides of Hobbiton. In the distance, I could see the lights of the town as the nighttime festivities took place. A couple lone hobbits wandered the pathways back to their hobbitholes, but there was no one near me. I got to my feet, keeping Ian propped up in my right hand.

"Have you ever been to Hobbiton before?" I asked.

I used my right hand to shake Ian's head from side to side.

"I didn't think so," I said. "I've been a few times before. This is where I first met the Company. I was here for Frodo and Bilbo's birthday too. The one where Bilbo decided to disappear of the face of Middle Earth and then show up later in Rivendell."

Ian stared at me blankly.

"I guess you don't know much about the world," I said. "Being stuck in the mountainside for so long. That must have been boring. I wonder if you're a ghost now. Probably. Probably one of the ghosts who tried to kill me on Raoulidor's orders. Shame. You know, you're a very good-looking skull. I bet you had all the female skulls drooling over you back in the mountains." I gasped. "What if you had a female skullover! And I took you away from your one to skullove! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I should never have taken you away from that. It wasn't on purpose! I am not Ana the Skullove Breaker! I just kind of…Skipped. It happens. Sorry."

I swear Ian was glaring at me.

"I'm sorry!"

So there I was. Standing on a cobblestone road in Hobbiton, clutching a skull, bawling my eyes out, and apologizing over and over again for tearing apart such a beautiful skullmance—when who should come wandering down the road? Go on—guess. Guess! Guess! Why aren't you guessing? Fine. I'll tell you. It was you. You, stupid you came walking down the road.

And you saw me. You stopped walking and you just kind of stared at me for a really long time. I didn't see you at first, I was too busy apologizing to Ian. It wasn't until I had calmed down a little and stopped apologizing over and over again that I realized you—dressed in your travelling clothes—were watching me

"Ah!" I dropped Ian. He struck the cobblestone with a loud clack and lost a piece of his skull. He rolled a few feet away from me before coming to halt a little ways away. I screamed and chased after Ian, scooping him up into my arms. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

You stared.

I clutched Ian to my chest and stroked his skull, trying not to touch the chip in the back of his head in case it hurt him. I spun around to face you. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

You stared at me for a long time. "I could ask you the same question."

I glanced down at Ian and then back up at you. "I promise that I'm not insane."

You nodded slowly. "If you say so. Though it usually implies the opposite when you have to say it out loud."

I considered this and then nodded. "True. It'd be like a serial killer going up to a house, knocking on the front door, and saying—please let me in, I promise I'm not a serial killer. That just screams suspicious."

There was a pause. I wasn't sure what I should say to you. I wasn't sure what time it was, so if I talked to you it might mess up everything. But I couldn't not talk to you. You didn't seem like you knew me. Though maybe you did. I really didn't know and I don't think you knew if I knew either so we had this whole game of Who Knows? going on and it was weird.

It was you who broke the silence. "Why do you have a skull?"

"Huh?" I glanced down at the ball of bone in my hands. "Skull? You mean Ian. There's a long story behind this."

You stared at me.

"I was being attacked by an army of ghosts because their king was jealous that I might have a romance with an elf." (I mimed throwing up.) "But since I'm the Skipper—I can move through time and space and worlds—I managed to disappear before the avalanche of skulls they unleashed on me knocked my into a bottomless pit." I paused. "That's the true story, I promise."

You stared.

"You had to have been there!" I cried.

"I am going to keep walking," you said.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

You started walking past me on the cobblestone path, but you paused when I said that. You glanced at me for a moment, as if debating whether or not to answer, but then you say, "You'll find out soon enough." And you started walking away again.

"Find out what?"

You stopped again, but this time you didn't turn around to face me. You just kind of stared off into the distance at the light of Hobbiton, but I don't think you were seeing the lights. You were thinking of something else.

"You talk too much," you said.

I shrugged and nodded. "Well, yeah. But find out what?" I blinked. You were gone. I didn't know where you went to or why, but you had disappeared. Gone. Poof. Like magic.

I picked up Ian and stared into his eye sockets. He stared back.

"Well that was awkward," I said.

I moved Ian's head up and down to make agreement.

"He's not always that weird," I told Ian. "We must not have met yet. Or he didn't recognize me. I don't know. But things aren't usually that awkward. Promise."

Ian stared at me blankly.

"Don't judge me," I said.

Ian didn't respond. He sat on the palm of my hand, silently judging me.

I groaned and plopped down on a patch of grass just to the side of the road. My legs were stretched out in front of me, resting on the uneven stones. Ian was placed on my knees, watching me carefully.

"Don't worry," I said. "If the Skipping wants me to meet someone, it'll bring me there or make me go there. I really have no control. I just sort of come and go as the Skipping pleases."

Ian didn't respond.

"You're bored, aren't you," I said.

I nodded Ian's head up and down in the form of a 'yes'.

"Well," I said. "We have two options. One—we can go exploring. But we're in Hobbiton and, to be honest, there's not much to explore in Hobbiton. Unless you want to go party. We could get drunk with the hobbits!"

Ian stared at me.

"Oh right," I said. "You're dead. You can't get drunk. Well, then, that leaves option number two—I entertain you."

Ian stared.

I laughed and pressed my right hand to my cheek. "Not that kind of entertainment!" I giggled and waved at hand at Ian. "Stop it, you're making me blush. You pervert."

Ian didn't stop staring.

I placed a hand over his eyes.

"Don't look at me with such naughty eyes!" I cried.

So there I was. Sitting on the side of a cobblestone road with a skull in my lap, chatting to the skull like it's no big deal, and scolding the skull for being a pervert. When who should walk up? You.

You stared. And stared. And stared. (I'm beginning to see parallels between you and Ian.) I stopped what I was doing and lifted my head to stare back at you. I hesitated and then a wide grin spread across my face.

"Are you lost?"

"I wanted to see if the insane girl was still sitting on the roadside with her skull."

"Ian," I said.

"Of course. What are you doing here?"

"Waiting," I said.

You frown. "Waiting for what?"

"For the Senturiel."

"Is it coming anytime soon?"

I shrug. "Maybe now, maybe not for a year. I never really know when it comes. It just sort of comes. It's like magic. I could be part of a travelling circus. The amazing, disappearing girl. Poof. She's gone. Except it's somewhat inconsistent. So half the people will demand refunds when it doesn't work."

"Does it usually work?"

"Usually. There was one time where it happened to late and I got a bullet in my chest." I rolled my eyes. "Bled a lot. I almost died."

"You almost died?" You seemed surprised to hear it.

"I know, right. Of all the things to almost kill me—not an arrow, not a sword, not a knife, not getting hit by a car, not jumping off a building, not getting stampeded by horses—it was a gun. A frigging gun. What are the odds?"

You shake your head. "You are insane."

"Probably," I said, getting to my feet. I was careful not to drop Ian this time, and with him perched on the palm of my hand, I said, thoughtfully, "Poor Ian. He was torn ruthlessly from his home and his skullover and forced to come with an insane, majestic-obsessed girl to Hobbiton. The Sorrowful Tales of Ian the Skull. And this does not even include the chapter of his death and the chapter where his parents refuse to acknowledge that he and his girlfriend are skullmates."

You stared at me for a long moment. Then, a slow smile made its way onto your face and you shook your head. You laughed as you started walking down the path again. "You have not changed."

I blinked. "You remember me?"

You didn't stop walking. "You are impossible to forget."

"Hey!" I shouted. "Hey! Come back!"

You didn't come back. And, before I could make up my mind as to whether to chase you or not, you disappeared.

I groaned. "Great. He's such a troll."

I sat back on the grass, but as I moved to do so, I fumbled with Ian and—crash—I dropped him. He landed on the grass (at least he didn't break this time) and then rolled backwards down, down, down the hillside slope.

Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, I stood completely still. For a moment, I watched him tumble down the grassy slope.

"Ian! Stop!"

He didn't hear me. He just kept rolling down the slope, further and further away from me.

I screamed as Ian disappeared from my side forever.

Since I Skipped soon after the loss of Ian, I didn't find out the rest of the story until Frodo told me quite a while later. I'll have you know that the hobbits discovered Ian in a flowerbed a week later. A little hobbit woman was watering her petunias, when she caught sight of him. She ran for help and little hobbit version of police showed up. The skull was bigger than any hobbit head, so they deduced that one of the Big People had been murdered in Hobbiton and his body had been dumped in Hildifons Took's flowerbed. The only problem was that no one had seen any Big People in Hobbiton for so long. The hobbit-police decided that the murder must have been an outside job and they investigated the case no further. However, the murder of Ian went down as one of the greatest murders Hobbiton had ever seen.

See, I'm a part of Hobbiton's history. They should put me in the museum display case right next to Ian and title the exhibit The Sorrowful Tale of Ian The Skull. I think it'll be a hit.