Disclaimer: I seem to have neglected to mention…this world, plot, and these characters all belong to one professor J.R.R Tolkien, not, coincidentally, me.
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Black hooves clattered down the road toward me, and I ran through the cold night wildlly. My skirts flew out around me, flapping in the night air, and my hair whipped in my face, sticking to my mouth. I could hear them- catching up. There was a gap still between the riders and me, and it was closing. Their hooves would hit my flesh and bones.
My throat seared, and my chest ached. I've always been out of shape; I guess my dream form's no different. I could not run so far. I knew that I'd trip not far down the road, and then they'd have me.
I turned around, just briefly, hearing my own terrified breath rattle in my ears.
I saw the riders- two riders, tall, rangy, black horses armored with silver. Horses with no eyes. Their riders were spectres; they cried sharp, wailing supernatural cries after me.
They were after me, and I didn't know if I'd ever find out why.
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I woke up, for real, high in a tree.
"Oh…oh shit…" I whispered in utter horror, swaying slightly and grabbing the branch nearest me to prevent myself falling.
I couldn't remember anything, except for that rider I'd seen in my dream. I trembled, clinging to the tree- a thin, scraggly, ominously wobbly little thing I'd wound up in- and surveyed the land around me.
I really was high up. That tree, skinny as it was, was unnaturally tall. Actually, all the trees around me seemed unnaturally tall. I whimpered, feeling my body stiffen in utter, 100 horror as the distance between me and the ground began to register.
Did I ever mention that I have a huge, massive phobia of heights?
"Help…" I moaned into the darkness. My eyes were squeezed so tightly shut it hurt, but even then I could practically feel myself slipping off of the branch, even though I wasn't moving. If I made even the slightest movement, the delicate, slippery little branch would give way and I'd fall through the feet and feet and feet of emptiness to the hard ground-
Nausea worked it's way through my stomach.
I think it's safe to say that I had completely, utterly forgotten about the black riders and the fact that I was in a strange place. I was now concentrating on one simple thing; not moving. Not a fraction.
It looked like I was going to be staying in that tree forever, locked in a struggle against every single part of my body when I heard movement far below me.
In an instant, I had a huge "uh-oh" moment, screamed wildly, felt the skinny branch slip bizarrely from beneath me, and fell.
I plummeted, screaming, my stomach feeling like it was going to revolt and crawl out of my throat. I thrashed in midair; and could only vaguely hear shouts of other people nearby.
I hit something. Something too soft for ground.
Whimpering, I clung to that something.
"I caught her!" I heard a voice shout; a young man's voice which, I'm telling you, sounded really freaking bizarre. He had some kind of accent. "Frodo! Sam! Look! A girl just fell into my arms!"
"Uuuuuuuggghhh…" I wailed, digging my nails into the guy who'd caught me. I can barely remember shaking so hard in my whole life. I thought, in those first moments after landing, that I was still at a huge distance from the ground, and that if I let go I'd fall.
"Where did she come from, then?" a different voice, this one definitely bearing the trace of a British accent. "I must say it's very un-hobbitlike to be falling out of trees…Mister Frodo, what do you say?"
"She seems to have come from up there- you see, right above us," said a third voice, this one sounding a bit older than the other two. I didn't care. My stomach was continuing its crawl up my throat. "I expect she-"
"I think I'm gonna be sick," I moaned, gulping. The guy holding me heard.
"Aaaaagh!" he yelled, dropping me in terror.
Whumph. I hit hard ground, and clung to it, feeling it seeming to tilt and spin.
"Pippin!" shouted the older man's voice. "What on earth did you do that for?"
"She said she was going to be sick!" replied Pippin (seriously…what mother names her child that? Way to call your son after an apple, lady). "I didn't especially want her to be sick on me." His voice came from directly above me, sounding strangely muffled by the ground at my ear. I wondered if that was a Scottish accent he had. It sounded suspiciously like it.
"Yes, but even so you can't just drop her like that…"
I could feel someone kneeling beside me, and rolled onto my back. I shivered, realizing suddenly how chilly the thin night air felt out here.
"Miss?" came the second voice, from somewhere nearby. "Are you awake?"
I opened my eyes, suddenly not feeling capable of speaking a response.
A face was looming above mine; eerie against the black, star-prickled sky. It was a man's face, a man of about thirty, I guessed, sort of chubby with curly, light-brown hair and an expression of concern.
"She's awake," called the man, turning to the other two. The face disappeared from my view and I saw only the sky. It was a clear night- pitch dark, except for the twinkling of cold white stars. No moon out.
In an instant, there were three faces looming above me. This was way too weird for me, and I screamed yet again, sitting up like a movie character waking from a nightmare.
I sat still, breathing hard, and turned to face the men around me.
"Are you alright, lady?" asked the one closest me, the one who'd sounded old. He wasn't old, coincidentally; he was actually quite young, with dark, curly hair and a very old-fashioned outfit; white shirt and dark waistcoat and jacket. He was holding a walking stick and seemed to be wearing a backpack.
"F-f…fine," I managed softly, brushing some hair out of my face and beginning to feel lost, beginning to think again. Where the unholy hell was I? I remembered school; my math classroom. This did not connect. Something huge and scary, I knew, had happened between then and now. But I couldn't remember at all what it might have been.
"That was quite a fall you took," the man continued, smiling slightly. "Though fortunately you had Pippin here to catch you/" He turned to glance at the third guy, who hadn't spoken so far. He was young, too, and also dressed a little strangely; dress shirt and jacket, wearing a backpack and a scarf around his neck. He was curly-haired- I realized these three must be related- and he had a thin, angular face and very pointy nose.
"I'm sorry about dropping you," he said, grinning at me. The kind of charming grin that lets you get away with anything, only it didn't make me feel better.
"That's OK," I mumbled, still feeling overwhelmed.
"Miss?" said the dark-haired guy, touching my shoulder lightly and peering into my face. "Are you going to be all right?"
"Where am I?" I asked him, shivering and wanting to cry and run home.
"You don't know?" he asked, brow wrinkling lightly.
"No…" my voice was getting, if anything, quieter. Forget it- I was going to start crying. My face crumpled.
As it did, I felt something light and warm falling over my shoulders, and I jumped. I turned around, tears blurring my vision, and saw the first guy- the one who'd first spoken to me- draping what seemed to be a wool blanket over me.
"You looked cold," he said kindly. "No cloak or jacket or anything, and it's a chilly night."
I frowned at him, momentarily distracted. ("Cloak"?)
"No," I agreed slowly. "And thank you. But where am I? I don't remember anything. I just woke up in this tree and all of a sudden here I was. I wasn't even outside last I remember."
The three exchanged looks. It made me extremely nervous; as if they had something horrible that they were afraid to tell me.
"The Woody End," said the dark-haired guy. "Not far from Hobbiton. I'm…Frodo Baggins, if that helps at all." He seemed extremely reluctant to give me his name for some reason, but I couldn't have cared less. This guy had just been spouting out a bunch of complete gibberish, and I was most certainly not comforted. I knew of no Hobbiton near where I lived; no Woody End, either. Furthermore, "Frodo" and "Pippin" were two of the absolute stupidest names I'd ever heard in my entire life.
"Am I dreaming?" I asked aloud, already fairly sure what the answer would be. I bit the inside of my cheek and felt it perfectly.
"No," Frodo answered, politely puzzled. "I'm afraid you aren't. Well- why don't you tell us your name, and where you last remember yourself?" The three watched me then, not unpleasant, but all equally curious. Maybe, I thought, I'd landed somewhere in the country, somehow, and a group of hikers- British hikers, obviously, what with the accents- had found me. It made sense.
"Well," I wrapped the blanket neatly around me, and composed myself a little. "I'm from Long Cleeve. You know where that is?"
The three seemed clearly to recognize the name.
"Yes," said Frodo, reassured. "Up north, isn't it?"
"North?" I had always thought it was in southwest Ohio, but then I'd gotten stuff like that wrong before. "I think so. Anyway- my name's Diamond. But I don't think that'll help much. I don't think."
"Diamond of Long Cleeve!" Pippin exclaimed suddenly, looking at me with shock. "I've heard your name before."
My insides squirmed and my fingertips tingled in horror. This was getting too bizarre. Diamond of Long Cleeve? My name was Diamond, yes, I was from a town called Long Cleeve, yes, but "Diamond of Long Cleeve" sounded like the name of a medieval lady, which I most certainly was not. And this guy had heard of me. This guy with weird clothes and a Scottish accent had heard of me, and I wasn't dreaming. I was not reassured. Actually, I felt marginally insane.
"How," I asked slowly, swallowing hard, "have you heard of me?"
I couldn't look him in the eyes, because he was making me nervous, and so coincidentally as I spoke I stared down at my legs. It took a few seconds, but suddenly it registered with me;
I had the biggest, hugest, ugliest hairy feet I had ever seen in my entire life.
Last I knew, I had hairless, delicate, cute little size six feet. I stared at them now, or where they'd used to be, and in increasing horror saw that it was not merely a trick of the light.
I HAD MONSTER FEET.
"Holy shit!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, leaping to an upright position. "My feet! What the hell did you do to my feet? WHO THE GODDAMN HELL ARE YOU?" I grabbed at my right foot furiously, tugging like mad at the disgusting foot hair. "UGH!" It wasn't coming off. These were not shoes or slippers or weird prosthetic feet, even, these were real flesh and real…fur. Fur.
"Miss? Miss?" came someone's voice from nearby. I wasn't sure whose, I waas busy hopping around like mad on my huge, floppy, hideous new feet to care. I bit my lip again and again, hard, and each time I felt it. This was not a dream, this was a living nightmare! This was a horror movie in action!
"I DID NOT," I screamed, whirling around to face them, "FALL ASLEEP WITH HAIRY- FRIGGIN- FEET! LOOK!" I hopped to one foot and showed them all the horrid abominable monstrosity.
They watched me, still looking politely puzzled. Pippin, that mentally deficient name-challenged Scottish psychopath, looked like he was about to crack up and start laughing.
"Diamond," said Frodo calmly. "We are all hobbits here. Look-" he pointed downward.
I paused in my hysterics and looked down. I saw three pairs of identical, massive, hairy feet, and that was it.
My eyes rolled up into my head and I fainted.
Wouldn't you?
A.N) ...I certainly would... Anyway. In other news, folks, this is going to be bookverse, which means if you haven't read the books, which is just ridiculous, you won't get some parts (like, oh, say, Glorfindel rescuing Frodo instead of ARWEN). That said I am still keeping Scottishaccent!Pippin, because...um...I couldn't resist. Besides, it never specifically states in LotR that he DOESN'T have a Scottish accent... Maybe I need to re-read here...