So I'm on a serious spam here. But I really can't get this thing out of my head.
"I'm dreaming," she said, out loud. "I'm bloody dreaming. This is all a dream. And when I wake up, Emma will be yelling at me to get out of bed."
The dwarfs exchanged looks, but at a look from Balin, chose not to say anything.
Ella closed her eyes, grabbed at the grass below her hands.
No. This was no dream. It was too real, much too real. And somehow, she did not believe that the men before her were acting, or messing with her. Those swords and axes looked much too sharp. The hobbit's feet – Baggins, wasn't it? – were real, vividly, painfully real, huge and leathery-looking and hairy. And the dwarfs, oh god, their beards were much too real, much too attached to their faces, much too concerned looking.
This was not possible.
She'd given up on the ideas of magic and adventures long ago.
She opened her eyes again.
The dwarfs were still grouped around her.
She took a deep breath in. Let it out.
This is real, she told herself. I'm not in a dream. I'm not hallucinating. Or, even if I am, I'll wake up eventually. I hope. But right now, this is real.
"I'm – I'm sorry about that." She managed to smile, prop herself up properly. Almost instantly, one of the younger men – no, dwarfs – one of the younger dwarfs, the blond one, was at her elbow, helping her up, flashing her a winning smile. Oh god. Despite the braids in his hair and beard, he was incredibly good-looking as well. Good-looking dwarfs. Ella suddenly felt an urge to laugh hysterically. She smiled back weakly at him.
And then she recalled something else of what Balin said.
"You said – you said wizard." She blinked, trying to focus. "There's a – there's a wizard? Who knows magic and – and everything?"
A tall, looming figure stepped out behind the dwarfs.
"Gandalf the Grey, my lady."
"I – I need – "
"Enough of this." An impatient voice cut in, and another figure, another dwarf, stood up next to the wizard, arms crossed, glaring down at her as the other dwarfs scurried to make way for him. Older than the blond one and the dark-haired one, younger than Balin, but still not bad looking. Ella felt the urge to slap herself. This was not the time to be thinking about this kind of thing.
"You," the dwarf continued, eyes dark, "are going to tell me who you are, where you came from, how you came here, and why you are here."
Ella felt anger spark in her.
"My name," she all but spat out, causing some of the dwarfs to raise their eyebrows at the sudden venom in her voice, "is Eleanor Aidan. And as for the rest of your bloody questions, that is kind of why I asked about the wizard." In a lower voice, she muttered, "Bloody, impatient ass."
At that, the hobbit cracked a smile, though Ella had no idea how he had managed to hear it, while the two good-looking dwarfs nearer her had to choke back laughter.
Almost immediately, she felt terrible. They were looking out for her, concerned for her, when they didn't have to be. They could have left her floating in the stream, or just left her in this little clearing and continued on their way. But they were staying, still gathered around her. They could be on a tight schedule for some trip or journey, which would explain the bossy and rude dwarf's impatience. She wasn't actually their problem.
"I'm sorry," she said, just as the bossy and rude dwarf opened his mouth. He stopped, confused. "That was uncalled for. I just – I just really need some help."
Personally, she was proud of the way she hadn't broken down yet, having learnt of the existence of dwarfs, hobbits and wizards.
The dwarf let out a grunt and turned to the tall wizard at his side.
"Well, Ms Aidan," said Gandalf the Grey, "how may I be of assistance to you?"
"I, ah." She paused. "Would it – would it be possible that there are different worlds, not just yours? Or something like that? And, uh, that you could travel across them?"
The wizard's eyebrows shot up into his tall, pointed hat.
"Why, yes, Ms Aidan," he said, slowly. "There are. Unfortunately, the problem with inter-world, or inter-dimension travelling, is that nobody knows how it works. We do know, however," and at this he looked at her gravely, "that they occur only when one dies before their time, though this is not always the case. It is unpredictable. And that it only ever happens to a single person once."
Ella could only stare at him.
Nobody knows how it works. One dies before their time. Unpredictable. To a single person once.
Single person.
Once.
The words swirled about in her head.
"Excuse me, lassie," said Balin, gently, glancing back at Gandalf, who nodded, "you wouldn't be one of these travellers, would you?"
Ella stared blankly at him.
Nodded her head, once.
"I think so."
Her voice was a whisper.
"How do we know you're speaking the truth?" the rude dwarf next to Gandalf asked. "That you're not just a spy?"
Ella opened her mouth to retort – and then shut it. He did have a point, no matter how offensive Ella found it to be. Coming out of nowhere, dressed in probably what they considered the strangest fashion choice ever, claiming to be from another world.
"If I may," Gandalf said, leaning forwards, his eyes merry, "inter-dimension travellers always have a mark on the inside of their right wrists."
Without hesitation, she held out her right arm, pushed back the mess of colourful bracelets to show the inside of her wrist. A mark – a swirl of patterns, blue in colour, dizzying and never ending.
"Ah, yes," he murmured, examining it. "Yes." He leaned back, looked at the dwarf beside him. "She is not from this world." His eyes flickered to her own. "And there is truth in her eyes."
The dwarf grunted.
Fili was grinning at Kili when he'd helped the human girl up, causing Kili to make a face at his older brother.
Kili decided not to let his older brother know that the girl had flushed, face turning a slight pink, after he'd helped her up.
It was after Gandalf's proclamation that the girl indeed was from a different world that the girl sneezed.
In an instant, three cloaks were offered to her, outstretched arms in front of her face.
The girl – Eleanor Aidan, wasn't it? – looked up and immediately blushed again when she saw the three cloaks.
She looked very strange with the funny thing on her face, glasses or whatever they were called, but still kind of pretty. Not a beautiful kind of pretty; not a sweet, gentle kind of pretty; not even a fierce kind of pretty. No, she was a little plain, but still – still kind of pretty.
Kili pushed the thoughts out of his head,
He wasn't surprised to see that Fili had offered his own cloak – of course he had – but he was surprised to see that the third person holding out his own cloak was Ori, looking at her shyly.
After glancing around at the three of them, frightened, she took Ori's cloak, smiling back at him just as shyly and murmuring a "thank you".
"You're soaked to the skin, lass," Gloin informed her as she wrapped the cloak around herself.
She looked back at him, raised her chin.
"I suppose that is what happens when you're floating down a stream." A hesitant smile, and another shy thank you.
"Why don't we get you into some dry clothes, yes, then we'll introduce you to everyone properly?" Balin was saying, supporting her elbow as she got to her feet unsteadily, shivering.
She looked embarrassed. "I, ah, I don't have any spare clothes."
"I've got a spare set," Kili said, quickly, before Fili could open his mouth. He noticed Thorin glaring at him darkly, but chose to pretend not to see his uncle. "I could loan them to you."
She gave him an uncertain, grateful smile, and he hurried back to his pony, not realising he was grinning goofily.
He came back a few minutes later, holding a light-coloured top and dark trousers.
"Someone needs to take care of you while you get changed," he said as he handed over his clothes. He grinned at her, widely. "I could do that."
He saw her blush furiously, before it faded and a steely look came into her eyes.
"You know, it's quite alright," she said, pleasantly, shoving the clothes back into his arms, "if that's what your offer consists of, I'm quite happy to walk around dripping wet."
Kili opened his mouth to protest when she suddenly looked at him, eyes growing wide, stepped back, and started looking around her furiously.
Dwarfs were meant to be short. Ella knew that.
And she was a tall girl. She knew that too. She towered over all the girls in her class, and half the guys, not to mention a fair number of senior boys that she knew.
But she was slightly shorter than all the dwarfs.
Perhaps only slightly taller than the hobbit.
"I'm short," she found herself saying.
The dark-haired dwarf blinked at her, still holding his rejected spare set of clothes in his arms. "What?"
She felt panic building up in her.
"I'm supposed to be taller," she found herself saying, sounding desperate. In a part of her mind, there was a part of her that found this funny, that she was worrying more about not being her usual height as compared to being in a different world. "I'm – I'm not supposed to be this short. I'm tall. And I – I'm tiny. I'm tiny now. I'm freaking tiny."
"Such incidents do happen," Gandalf stepped forward, looking at her apologetically.
She took a deep breath.
Well, at least her clothes and everything on her and shrunk with her.
She took another deep breath, looked up at Balin.
Oh god.
Tiny. Tiny. Tiny Ella Aidan.
She let out a deep breath.
Being tinier than usual, she told herself, is not the biggest problem right now.