I'm sorry it's taken SO long. I lost my muse for a long time, but I'm going to attempt a chapter. It may not be up to par, but I will do my best.

Summary: Mike Evans, an Iraq journalist, and a soldier get sucked into Middle Earth when they were close to death in Abu Ghraib. Now they have to find a way to cope, because there's no way home.

Excerpt from Michael Evans' journal, kept during his stay in Imladris.

The date, as I can best recall, is July 23rd. Back home, it is hot, sunny and everyone goes swimming on Saturdays. Alex is probably busy doing her homework, cursing math underneath her breath. Julia, as is her custom, is doing a full cleaning of the house and she's probably vacuuming around Alex's legs. Scott, the unsavory character, is probably lazing about, not helping at all. Granted, I was hardly better, but I need something to slam him with.

To be honest, I am despairing. I want to go home and see my baby girl, or at least see the war finished off. I don't even know if I'm alive, and that frightens me. I don't know if I've left my child behind. I think I may be going crazy. This can't be possibly. I'm in some other place, I can barely communicate in full-sentences, and I'm miserable for want of a shower, shave with a real razor, and my books. This place is full of beauty, I'd be the first to admit it, but, to be very clichéd, there's no place like home. I miss my cramped apartment (God, never thought I'd say that). I miss home. I miss Alex and taking her places and spending time with her. I love that girl so much, and now I don't know if I'll ever see her again.

But everything in perspective, I am well. My arm is on the mend, and my ribs hardly bother me anymore. David and I have been given small houses ('shacks' is the better word) and been employed by some local human farmers. We get a few coins a week to spend on luxuries, for our food is given to us as return for our hard work, and since we live near the local bar/inn, free drinks all 'round is all I can say. I am glad Elrond has been so generous in providing us with this chance. We have spoken a few times and he says that it's unlikely that we will ever return to our homes for we don't even know how we got here. At least he was truthful. But I feel worse for David. I am divorced. He is a young husband and a young father. He never got to meet his baby girl. All he knows is her name: Heather Wilma. I do not understand our situation, but I retain hope.

Alex would always tell me in her letters that God was in control, that he had a plan. I find it hard to believe that, but at the same time, is it so hard to believe?

†††

Mike sighed as he heaved himself up from the rough pallet he slept upon, giving David a gentle shove on the side with his foot. He had heard a terrible rooster's crow and knew it was time to get up. David, however, slept like a log and took several minutes to get up, now that there was no war going on around him that he was a soldier in. Mike, as David grumbled and sat up, changed into his workshirt which was grimy and dirty, but at least it was something that was flexible and cool when it was hot and warm when it was cold outside.

"Damn roosters…" David muttered angrily underneath his breath as he changed as well. "Ready for another day, amigo?"

"I suppose." Mike yawned. But the truth was that he wasn't ready for another day. They had only been working for a week, and his arms and legs were about ready to commit mutiny and kill him themselves. His muscles ached as he attempted to move, his joints threatened to give way from all the hard work and the extra weight he was carrying around. Mike Evans had never been an overweight kind of guy, but he was far from fit. And he needed to be fit to survive in this world.

David, on the other hand, was at the peak of his physical ability. Boot camp and being in open combat had done his body wonders. Every muscle was well defined, and his skin was wrapped tautly around his body. There was hardly an ounce of fat on his body, and it seemed that he was made for this harshness. Mike was not above envying him. And people thought women envied each other's bodies.

Mike was full of envy for all of the people in this strange new place. They were all built for the hard work they were doing, and he was struggling just to keep up with the work he was given because of his arm. David seemed to fit right in, able to communicate with more ease than Michael now that they had help, and it seemed this new language had something in common with David's native Spanish. Mike was struggling over the way to phrase his sentences, and the pronunciations of certain words. He sighed, trying his best not to allow himself to go down that road of inferiority. He'd been going down that road since he and Julia had divorced, plagued with ideas of how it was his fault, of what he could have possibly done to drive her away. He knew the truth remained that she hadn't loved him for a long time, but had kept him so she could pursue extra-martial affairs. But he could never hate her. He still loved her, with the awfully pathetic love of a jilted lover.

Banishing those thoughts away, he settled into his daily tasks, which he found difficult, but cathartic. They took his mind away from the fact he was far from home, with only one friend, and didn't know the language and who to and not to trust. He carried smaller baskets of vegetables from the large gardens the inn kept, he fixed any broken baskets, sharpened the strange curvy things people used for wheat (he had never found out the name of those things), and did various other little tasks. Though he was loath to admit it, he almost missed his old desk job that he'd had before he'd gone off for the whole writing deal.

"Working hard, Mike, or hardly working?" David called over from the fields.

Mike grinned. "I'd say the same to you, chump. Don't make me come over there and see how the army trains its recruits." He shouted back.

"Oh, I'd love to see you try!" David made a fake-threatening move, before laughing and turning back to his work.

Mike laughed briefly, but fell back into his thoughts as he was given several scythes to sharpen. He sat against the inn wall and pulled the whetstone from his pocket.

Hours later, Mike and David stumbled back into their shack after a round of drinks with 'the boys'. David immediately slumped down onto his pallet, groaning in happiness for a moment of rest. Mike could tell the younger man was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. This was hard on both of them. The American sighed and sat down, switching his shirts. He was going to need to ask one of the pretty girls who worked at the inn to help him with his clothes sometime soon. He smelled of sweat and animal dung. Yes, the inn had a stable. Another one of his duties.

"Mike?" David turned his head on the pallet to look at his friend.

"Yeah, man?" Mike asked, groaning as his back relaxed on the pallet. He missed his king-sized mattress with his pillow that smelled like spring and comforter that was so warm.

"Are we ever going to get out of here? I just want to see my daughter." His voice was soft, but seemed to scream of his pain and agony. A father who had never seen his child. A husband longing for his wife's embrace. All of these things, in a story, a character might understand how to comfort someone else about. Mike, however, was just a simple guy.

"No, I don't think we will." Mike sighed, admitting defeat. There was no way home. "We're stuck here, David."

The Hispanic nodded, suddenly numb. "Okay."

"I'm sorry." Mike offered pathetically.

"Me too."

For the first time in a long time, Michael Evans wanted to simply break down and cry as David turned onto his other side and fell asleep. This just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and it couldn't be fair. Why them? Why David? Why now? Why? Why? Why? And for the first time in a long time, Mike turned away from David and let a few tears fall. He cried silently for David, who would never know the joy of parenting, and for himself, who would never see his beloved daughter again, and for Alex, who was stuck without her dad to protect her. He wanted to believe there was more, but he didn't have Alex's optimism and simple belief that it was possible that things could get better. In all of his experience so far in this world led him to believe the contrary. Life was simply cruel.

†††

Elrond paced in his study, a cup of tea in his hand. Aragorn leaned against the wall further off, and Glorfindel and Erestor sat next to each other by the large bookshelf. No words were spoken, and they left each other to their thoughts. They had gathered together that day to discuss what would be done for My-kul and Day-veed. It was not that there was any suspicion as to their loyalties, or that they might do something that would raise suspicion. The only reports they'd heard from one of Aragorn's men who randomly went to the small town to check up on the two men were ones of great praise. My-kul and Day-veed were hard workers, accomplished more than five men could, and they were healing.

"This vexes me." Glorfindel finally said aloud. "I do not like being in such suspense. I believe Eru has a hand in this, but the purpose escapes me. Sauron's eye is focused on the Ring; he has no care for two strangers. What could they possibly do to help or hinder us?" He ran a hand through his golden hair. His handsome features were marred by irritation and confusion.

"I find myself agreeing with you, Glorfindel." Erestor nodded his dark head to his good friend. "Or this could be a ploy of Sauron's to simply distract us."

"Estel?" Elrond slipped back into comfortable paternal familiarity with his son. "What do you think?"

The hardened Ranger sighed, lifting his gaze from the floor. "I know not. I have sensed nothing, and you would have known before I. Their language is not simply babble, there is a pattern to it, but I have no way of figuring out what they're saying. They have been watched by common people, people who would see if there was something common about them. They are aliens in this land, and I believe them to be harmless."

Elrond smiled at his foster son's words. "I agree, yet I think there may be a purpose beyond distraction. But come, lunch is being served."

†††

Alex was on her bed, tears sliding down her cheeks as she attempted to write another letter to her father. Everything had been building up over the last few months, and she had no hope left. There had been no news of her father for months, and everything had calmed down, but the storm in her heart was only worse.

In truth, she had tried her best to just cope. She'd had some alcohol, and her boyfriend, Dirk, had tried to get her to sleep with him. She'd almost said yes, but she hadn't. But she really wanted to now. But Dirk had broken up with her for some prissy hussy named Lindsey who went to another school. Now, she was just alone. Alone, and unloved, and forgotten by her own mother. Yeah, her mother was too focused on Scott to focus on her. She just wanted her mother back.

Dear Dad,

Things have been going so wrong, and I'm sorry. I drank some alcohol at a party. But it tasted nasty, so I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry. I just can't think of why. I've been going in such the wrong direction, and I miss you. I'm so worried for you. You have to be okay. Yeah, you have to. I don't know why I'm worried. You'll be fine, and then you'll come back and save me from Mom and Scott. They're engaged, by the way. But Scott doesn't love Mom, I know it. My mom loves Scott though, or at least thinks she does. But all they do is fight, fight, fight, all the time. I think she's just trying to get over you. I want to believe that.

But Daddy, I'm so alone. You always know how to make me feel better, and you're fun to hang with. Dirk, my boyfriend, broke up with me because I wouldn't sleep with him, and I thought he loved me, or at least cared about me. No one cares about me. No one. God definitely doesn't. I know I told you all the time that God is in control and there's a reason for everything, but there's no reason for you to be missing. There's no reason for anything like that. I miss you so much. I want you home.

But someone did send me a letter today. There was no name, and no name on the return address. But it was a letter. All it said was, "Be strong." Strangely enough, I was so comforted by that. I'll try to be stronger, Dad, but it's so hard.

Alex.

Alex wiped her tears away and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. She was famished from not doing her homework and from the stress that quarter grades were coming up and she was sure she was failing in everything, when she normally did so well. Scott was in the kitchen, and she turned to leave.

"Hey, Alex." Scott called after her.

"Yeah?" She spat, harsher than she had intended.

He held his hands up, as if in surrender. "Hey. Look kid, I'm sorry I've been a real bastard lately. I've got my own problems, and… it's just weird. And I want to make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal?" Alex asked, in shock from Scott's admission.

"I'm going to back off for a bit, and I'm moving out. Your mom and I want to have time apart before we start planning the wedding, just to make sure it's what we want. I made a deal with your mom too. She and I will spend five hours a week together, which would equate to about two dates. And she will spend fifteen hours with you. Doing whatever you girls do. Deal?" Scott, with a genuine smile on his face, offered her his hand.

"Deal." Alex returned his smile tentatively.

"Oh, and I'm really sorry about the iPod and the anger thing. That's why your mom and I are taking some time off. I realized that I was screwed up and I needed help before I became her husband and your stepdad."

Alex eyed his suspiciously. She wanted to believe him, that he was telling the truth. She analyzed him with the logical mind she'd inherited from her father. He didn't stand with the same arrogance and pride anymore, and he looked like he'd spent the whole night up, thinking. He looked more humble, and he had an air of humility about him. She decided she'd give him a second chance.

"Oh, thanks." She shrugged. "I don't forgive you, but okay."

"Thanks." Scott turned and then headed back upstairs to the office and left her alone.

Alex sighed, slumping against the kitchen wall. This was just too crazy. But maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe.