Chapter Four - of Plain Jane in Thirteen Chapters - a look at what happens if you upset fan fiction

Rivendell

Jane Thomas loved her bedroom in Rivendell.

A few words should be said on the topic of Jane's room. It was neither grand, nor large, nor sensual. It was, however, light and airy like the rest of Rivendell and most importantly it had a bed in it. There was an actual bed with clean, crisp white sheets and two (two!) pillows and a dresser with a mirror. It was a simple room but practical and Jane loved it and her heart sank at the thought of leaving it. There was no better feeling than the feeling of wriggling around on cool clean sheets after a long hot bath. It was like being enveloped in a cloud, a cloud of pure happiness. Jane had learnt to love the simple things in life, like clean sheets...clean anything.

Eventually, she had to leave (only because she realised that being fed food would be even better than being clean). She had wandered around the long corridors, marvelling at how the Elves had managed to weave the structure around nature. It was like the Last Homely House was a living breathing building and that was rather fascinating. Everything was intricate and fiddly. She spent the first few hours moseying around in a daze, wondering if she had ever seen anything as beautiful as Imaldris.

Then her stomach had growled at her like an angry giant cat stuck in her stomach, clawing to get out and she decided that searching out sustenance was a priority.

This is how she met the Hobbits; in the kitchen. She had been following her nose. Apart from the Elf who had shown her to the bath and the other Elf who had given her the dress, she had seen no one; the place seemed to be deserted so she couldn't ask for directions. Of course, she realised, they had plenty of other things to do; showing around a young girl who couldn't even speak Westron wasn't on the top of their priority list, especially what with the War of the Ring now officially started.

She would have liked to have seen Elrond or Aragorn though.

Her head was up in the clouds, thinking of all the legendary people she could meet, when she stumbled across the threshold of the kitchen. Rather literally, as her dress was quite long (Elves are tall) and she tripped on it.

It was a warm brown room, rather unlike the other parts of Rivendell, and interestingly an open-plan kitchen. Two curly haired little people were holding a basket full of small sweet cakes and bloody hell was that jam?

Jane realised she was staring and remembered her manners.

"Greetings," she said in rather wobbly Westron, "My name Jane. How fare you?"

The younger one grinned and shared a look with the slightly older one. They were so cute, thought Jane.

"Hullo," said one rather shyly. "My name is Peregrin Took, but everyone calls me Pippin."

"And I'm Meriadoc Brandybuck, or rather, Merry."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance!"

Merry nudged Pippin and they attempted a very shaky but rather adorable bow.

"Remember your manners!" said Merry, in a whisper. He saw Jane gazing wistfully at his basket full of goodies. "Would you like to have tea with us?" he asked. Pippin looked torn; as much as he liked new people and this person was especially interesting, he never liked to share his food with someone who looked so ravenous. His good nature won, however, and he belatedly smiled up at Jane.

"Please do!"

Jane's stomach rumbled again and she grinned embarrassedly. "Thank you!" she said, gratefully.

"This way!" said Merry and Pippin picked up a big pot of tea which Jane had not even notice . Despite being vertically challenged, they seemed very strong and carrying the tea pot and the jam they scuttled off at a rather quick pace for such short legs, muttering about being late.

"I bet that she is Boromir's mysterious guest," whispered Pippin, risking a glance back at Jane who was slowly walking behind them, gazing around her curiously and not taking much notice of the hobbits.

"Sshh! She'll hear us! She doesn't speak any language that Gandalf knows, isn't that funny? They have no idea where she is from. Boromir found her sleeping, sleeping, by a river in the wild! The Elves said she was filthy when she arrived, dirtier than an orc! Glorfindel told me that she had to have two baths!"

"TWO BATHS!" cried Pippin, rather jealously. Hobbits love baths.

"She liked the baths though," said Merry, "So it's not wasted on her like it would be on Boromir." (Boromir was not averse to being clean, in fact, he quite liked being clean. It was just not on his top priorities list and was much too busy at the moment to justify a long hot soak. Especially since Aragorn didn't bathe too often. There was no way he was bathing more than Aragorn. He was a Man, a manly Man, he could take a bit of dirt! And of course, the Hobbits had noticed this and already begun teasing him, which was okay, because manly Men can also take a bit of teasing, as long as it doesn't come from pretty but dirty girls.)

"She likes tea, too. Big folk don't often like tea. And she likes cake. And it's not even a meal time..."

Pippin and Merry both stopped at the same time, turned back to look at Jane who also stopped. They were staring at her with a mixture of incredulity and wonder. Or rather, they were staring at her feet.

"What?" she said, rather amused and bemused. Pippin gulped and nudged Merry. Merry, who was holding the tea pot, almost fell over and Jane reached out and steadied him with one hand, and relieved him of the tea pot with another. Pippin, who was very cheeky, took advantage of the situation and pulled up her skirt to peer at her feet. "Hey!" said Jane and frowned at him. Pippin was adorably cute though, something he knew and often used to get out of trouble.

"We thought you might be an over-grown hobbit," he said matter- of-fact. Jane understood the gist of it, looking from the two pairs of hairy hobbit feet to her small, slipper clad feet and laughed.

"Me? Hobbit?" she asked, starting to laugh, gesturing to her ears and her height.

"Don't worry," said Pippin. "No one's perfect."

Pippin and Merry led Jane out to a terrace over looking over the river and down the valley. Oh, it was very beautiful and stunning.

Not out of this world stunning, mind. It was lovely and a bit magical, but Jane felt no inclination to faint, break out into song or sigh longingly. She noted that it did look a bit like Western Europe, although everything looked a bit greener and a bit cleaner (no global warming, she mused) and very fresh. Even though the Elves were in the Autumn of their stay here on Middle Earth and the leaves on the trees were turning golden brown, it was nothing like a British autumn. It wasn't raining, the wind was barely a breeze and the sky was clear and there was actually sunlight.

More importantly than the weather, were the three Hobbits sitting around the table on the balcony. The first one was incredibly old and wizened, but he looked kind and his fluffy white hair was very cute. There was a spark in his eye which said that he wasn't passed it yet. Jane guessed that this was Bilbo. The second hobbit was slightly fat, chubby even, healthy looking, rosy cheeked and had copper curly hair. He looked jovial and was clearly looking after the other two. Same, thought Jane. The third and the most interesting hobbit looked tired. A little bit ill, even. He was pale and had large luminous eyes, which portrayed a special kind of intelligence, an Elf like air. While Sam looked earthy and heavy, Frodo seemed light, airy and like a little pixie. He also seemed slightly unnatural, like something was very wrong.

Introductions were hastily made as hobbits are very particular (greedy) about their high tea and as Jane couldn't speak sufficient amounts of Westron to communicate beyond how hungry she was and how nice it was to meet everyone, there seemed no reason to wait.

Yum, thought Jane, who decided to refrain from stuffing her face. She was busy sipping her tea and chewing the cake and listening to the double act that was Merry and Pippin when something tugged at her heart. Oh. What was that?

"No Pippin, you're quite wrong, it's best to pour the milk into the cups before the tea-"

"That's daft, Merry. Utterly daft. Why?"

"Well obviously it's because...because it's obvious!"

"That's not a reason!"

"The old Gaffer always told me to pour the milk in first so as to not crack the tea cups," ventured Sam.

"Very practical, Sam," said Frodo, smiling.

Bilbo harrumphed. "It changes the taste!" he complained.

"But for the better, or the worse?" asked Frodo, who was often the peacekeeper in these sorts of delicate issues.

Everyone sat pensively for a second. Jane rubbed her heart, wondering if she had indigestion, after all it had been a while since she'd had proper meals...maybe she wasn't chewing properly.

"There is only one way to settle this!" declared Pippin. Sam looked slightly worried. "We have to have another pot of tea, this time we will put the tea in the cups first and then the milk!"

"Ingenious!" cried Merry, and then Pippin and Merry dashed off to the kitchen with the empty tea pot.

Jane frowned. "Are you alright, dear girl?" asked Bilbo kindly.

"Oh. Mm. Yes," she answered.

Then she heard the voice. It wasn't like fan fiction, fan fiction had a friendly sort of voice, neither male nor female, but relatively harmless sounding. This voice was low, it was foreign sounding, it was deep and gravelly, it was dangerous.

Jane. Jane. I can take you home, I can take you back to your friends and family...

Jane's eyes shot open wide and she looked at Frodo, her eyes sliding down his neck to the chain that held the One Ring. It was Sauron, talking to her.

All you have to do is take me, I will give you everything you want...

Jane started to panic.

The Caster Sugar Land a.k.a. The Realm of fan fiction

Poor Lesley Dyson was trapped in the Caster Sugar Land for the next year. Fan fiction was really cracking down on crime and living up to it's new image of being hard. Lesley sniffed, she didn't deserve this. She loved fan fiction, quite openly, to the shame of her three teenage sons and the bemusement of her loving husband. She would never insult fan fiction. She was a good person, she always gave to charity, baked cookies for bake sales, did nothing but nice things. She had been repeating this as a mantra for the past few months, but to no avail. Lesley had been a eager contributor to fan fiction for many years now, in fact she was one of the more innovative writers. She had committed the sin of inventing male pregnancy and now she had to atone by being fan fiction's slave for a year.

And that was why an innocent forty-six year old from Kansas was sitting in a caster sugar igloo, chained to a computer. Fan fiction fancied itself a hard ass gangster.

Lesley was busy typing away. It was her job to keep Jane from doing anything stupid and killing herself. Fan fiction may have been insulted by Jane, but it had no mean or cruel streak and the threat of leaving her there to die had been an idle one. Mainly because that would have involved a lot of paper work which is rather hard for someone who is not corporeal. Lesley had been brought in to work for fan fiction after fan fiction had realised that throwing a human being into another dimension for a year needed a bit of looking after. So basically, Lesley was in Caster Sugar Land to make sure that Jane didn't get killed or do something drastic that changed the story. Lesley had to work increasingly harder each day to make Jane do what fan fiction wanted her to do. And finally, today, Lesley couldn't do anything, couldn't make her do anything.

"Fan fiction! Are you there?" Lesley cried.

Yes, of course, weren't you listening? I am everywhere and nowhere, answered fan fiction, rather petulantly. Jane understood that, it muttered.

"This is about Jane," Lesley said, looking into space. She hated talking to someone she couldn't see who, by all rights, didn't exist. Lesley wished that she had been thrown into Middle Earth with Boromir, instead of living in a sugary prison. Jane was completely wasting her time in M.E, and especially wasting it with Boromir. Lesley had first been quite excited and had thought she could vicariously experience it, but Jane had been very unreceptive to the thoughts that Lesley had written for her. Jane didn't even think Boromir was particularly handsome, wasn't at all attracted to him and merely condescended to think, once, that his eyes weren't repulsive.

Boromir, on the other hand, was much more responsive. At first, Lesley didn't think she was getting anywhere, this Boromir, the real Boromir, was a lot more gruff than she had expected him to be, and slightly misogynistic at first. Underneath the grumpy exterior there was a real softy, Lesley had realised, although he didn't show it and perhaps didn't realise it even, but Boromir was scared of women. He pretended to be stern with them because he didn't understand their reactions and so wanted to pretend he didn't care. And usually, this worked. Except of course with Jane, who had gotten under his skin. He was undeniably attracted to her. Lesley had noticed that Boromir was a lot harder to control, than she would have thought, he was very stubborn and had absolutely no intention of ever even complimenting Jane.

This was not the current problem though.

"I have lost all control over Jane," admitted Lesley. There was silence.

What? squeaked fan fiction. Lesley bit her nails and wiped her hair out of her face. Man, was she tired.

"She's an organic person, fan fiction, she exists in another dimension, she's real and even worse, she's effecting the story..." elaborates Lesley.

Fan fiction was really starting to worry now. Jane was incredibly difficult to control even at the beginning. Fan fiction had tried to put her in the Mark, he had decided to put her somewhere that was affected by the war, but somewhere where she wouldn't run into anyone too important or have a chance to effect things too much. But instead of Rohan, she had struggled, she has pushed and her spirit was much stronger even after everything that had happened to her, and she had ended up in a river in Endewaith. He had to recruit Lesley who had manipulated Boromir into getting lost and picking her up. Lesley had tried to offload Jane onto some peasants, using Boromir to pressure her, but Jane was having none of it. And every time Lesley slept, Jane seemed to get in danger, attacked by orcs, attacked by wild men, drowning in a river. Boromir had saved her each time, but Lesley had less and less to do with that each time.

Fan fiction was well worried. Fan fiction existed, obviously and it's stories were real, too, but in another dimension which was completely separate from the first and which had different rules. Fan fiction was beginning to worry that Jane will die. If Jane reached out and took the One Ring, it 

thought, would she be able to move from one dimension to another? Would she be able to pass on all the knowledge she knew to Sauron? Would Sauron be able to move from one world to the next?

"Why are you so worried?" asked Lesley, who recognised the silence as worrying. "It's just a story," she said dismissively.

Ah, yes, dearest Miss Dyson, that is the thing, said fan fiction, wearily. It is just a story. In your dimension. You are just a story in the dimension of Middle Earth. But you're real in your own dimension. And there are many, many different dimensions and every time someone writes something they call fiction, they create a new dimension. Someone created your dimension once. You even have a name for your creator. And sometimes, yes, people managed to jump from dimension to dimension. It hurts a lot, as you recall. But it is possible." Fan fiction sighed, while Lesley took all this information in. "And I am the over-seer of what I call mirror dimensions, but I believe you call them parallel universes. Every time one person writes a slightly different version of whatever happened...it exists. Fan fiction. But of course, when you stop writing, it doesn't die, that would be cruel, it just keeps on going.

"I don't really get what any of this has to do with Jane," said Lesley.

No, no, I'm just rambling. Of course, because I put Jane into a different universe and asked you to write her into it, I have made her part of two universes and she can control her own actions. If she takes the One Ring, she may accidentally join your dimension and the dimension of Middle Earth, explained fan fiction.

"But that would be great!" exclaimed Lesley, "Bring a little magic back to the world! Elves and hobbits and sexy men, oh, I'd love that!"

Don't be ridiculous Lesley, admonished fan fiction, rather severely, The two dimensions aren't supposed to unite. They would merely explode and you would all die. And I would be in SUCH trouble, so much paperwork! It would be such a headache. No, if she takes the Ring, she will doom us all.

Lesley gulped. Please, Jane, be strong, she thought.

Of course Jane would be tempted. Most were, even Gandalf. Aragorn wasn't, but he's a bit special. Most Mary-Sues are too pure and selfless to even consider it. Neither nobility nor purity of heart saved Jane though.

She was merely sick of disembodied telling her what to do. She felt very hot and then very cold and constantly angry. How dare they? The bastards! Always trying to boss her about, trying to shove her about. She used all of her will power and brought herself back to the conversation around her.

"I like tea then milk," she said, with a considerably amount of effort. Bilbo smiled at her.

"Quite right. Ah, I see the young ones are back already, that was quick," he said.

The tea was poured, the milk went in last, Sam added sugar to his cup, Pippin scrunched up his nose at this, the tea was sipped, everyone ahh'd and the hobbits started arguing again about what was best. Jane laughed to herself.

"You're not saying much, Jane," said Merry, who had never really conversed with a Human Woman before and was wondering if they were boring her.

"Oh! It's um...I am not good at Westron. Want to," she said, trying to communicate with her big smile more than anything. They all smiled back at her for her efforts.

"I'll teach you!" offered Pippin. Frodo looked slightly worried at this.

"We'll all teach you," said Bilbo. Jane grinned at them. After Boromir pathetic attempts to teach her, she would be glad of teachers who were slightly more eager.

"Thank you! Boromir teach me little-" she began.

"Oh!" cried Merry, realising a way to interest the pretty young girl, "You'll be wanting to see Boromir! Of course, why didn't we think of that before!"

Oh no, thought Jane, who looked rather alarmed. I'm not sure if I can take seeing Boromir so soon...

"It's no problem at all!" said Pippin, who misunderstood the alarm on her face. "Merry and I will take you!"

Frodo, Sam and Bilbo sat back and relaxed on the balcony as Jane was frogmarched by Pippin and Merry off to go see Boromir.

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N.B. I'm sure I've insulted many many people with this chapter! Remember, that this is a work of fiction. It doesn't even represent my opinions! And I am very much of the Churchill way of thinking, i.e. I don't agree with your opinion, but I'll defend to the death your right to have it. Saying that, male pregnancy seems a bit weird. And if fan fiction's description of the way dimensions work is confusing, good! He was just rambling because he was worried.

Please review! I always like to know what people think of my strange writings. Boromir will appear in the next chapter, sweatier than usual!