Most found themselves disoriented that first morning. For some worlds (like Pippin and Merry's) there was only one room, but for others, two. It was quickly assumed that the girls were separated from the boys.

When Percy Jackson first found this out and started watching unfamiliar couples roam around, his hopes flew in the thought that Annabeth might be around the door.

Then Hazel came out, and they were completely dashed. He liked Hazel a lot, but she wasn't Annabeth. He wondered if, by her slightly downcast look when she saw him, that she had been thinking the same, but with Frank. It didn't really matter, though. He was going to find a way back- no matter how hard it was. Even if it meant…he pushed away the thought.

None of that here.

Instead, he turned around and around, searching for something familiar. Something like home.

"Percy…"

Something familiar.

"It's going to be alright, 'Kay?" Percy hugged Hazel tight, feeling her arms wrap around his waist.

"It's all going to be alright," he murmured. The thud of impeding footsteps made him look up. A sandy blonde kid, about half a head shorter than him and in his mid-teens was sizing Percy up. Percy growled and gave the kid his wolf stare. His eyes widened, but said nothing. Percy couldn't help but feel that the boy wanted to see Percy at his worst, was testing him in little ways.

"What do you want?" He said finally.

The boy shrugged and walked away. Percy noticed that his pockets were bulging.

"Definitely going to put him on the list of people I don't trust," Percy muttered.

Merry and Pippin were having their own little adventure. They'd already'd memorized the route to the larder -what a larder it was- and were now trying the strange contraption of the doors that separated without swinging. Translucent circles not quite wood or stone that bobbed and glowed- and the portals they took the Hobbits to, although always in the same dimension, it seemed. It reminded Pippin of the time he first went up the seven levels of Gondor, but multiple times folded over in speed.

The other boys they'd met in the larder seemed relatively friendly-anyone who loved food (and who'd found it almost as quickly as them) must be fairly nice, they supposed, if they took it without a fight. The shorter one seemed to just want his friend to eat. Pippin had almost called out one of the names on the list, but Merry held him back with a look, whispering that they might want to leave it be at the moment before they raised too many questions.

One of the boys-the one with sandy blonde hair- nodded to them while talking to his friend, but they both left to the hobbits peace, and left without a fuss. Perhaps, if either of them learned their names, they could help with any…disputes that might appear.

They had quickly learned that no one else knew anyone in the place, so they had a slight advantage with names from the paper. The only problem was that they couldn't match names to faces, and as door numbers seemed to be the only way to correlate with their new roommates, their advantage was not as helpful as they'd first anticipated it to be.

Especially after they'd realized that the language barrier gave off a more negative impression than they liked.

For example, a sharp-nosed blonde that eyed them with disdain as they returned. He was in a torn swaggy robe over a purple shirt, walking around with a hard-faced female. He spoke to them-such a strange language it was that everyone spoke here- although they assumed it could be nothing nice. They quickly ran around them, the boy shouting and causing heads to turn. When they finally reached their room, Merry sighed, sliding against the door.

"I think," he said, "it may be difficult to get on in this place."

"Perhaps if we had some translation sort of thing. We could always ask."

"Who, Fletcher? I'm not exactly sure we want to go to him. For one, the people might get angrier at us than they already are, you know, think we're some sort of accomplice or something!" Merry paused. "About him...something strikes me as odd. Why is he so apologetic if he brought us here in the first place? And why is everyone so upset- I mean, with reason, but this is supposed to be a safe house, isn't it?"

"Well, he's going to have to take us back, anyways, since we weren't supposed to be here in the first place." Pippin sat upright. "What about a scroll chamber?"

"Are you suggesting a library?"

"Yea, perhaps they'd have some…Westron to English translation guide. Or we could always pretend that we don't know how to speak."

"You shouted at the break of dawn down the edge of the hallway. I'm fairly sure they won't fall for it."

"Learning, then? It'd be more useful that not. And we're going to have to talk to Fletcher soon one way or another." Pippin thus answered both of Merry's questions.

Merry, in the meanwhile, was spying out the door's eyehole. "Well, then, when…whoever-that-was leaves, we can go out again." He could feel the sharp-nosed child's glare split through him. "He looks like a murdering type."

"Oh, are we playing that game? I say it's the folks in rooms six. I haven't seen them once, but I can hear yelling sometimes. I think they're plotting something. Perhaps they want to bust out."

"Pippin, I think all of us want to bust out of this place."

Pippin shrugged. "But they might do it first."

Merry looked back. "Either way, this one just looks like he wants to kill, regardless of his current status."

"That could just be his natural face."

"I suppose that could be true." Merry went back to looking out the hole. "Unfortunate, though." The boy still hadn't left, and now was eyeing their room with more caution, as if memorizing the details. Not that there was much to memorize. "I'm supposing we have a long while to wait," he sighed, walking towards the bedstand. "In the meantime, let's try to sort these names."

So, yes, essentially the hobbits are window stalking.

A bit of Percy Jackson and the Heroes of Olympus stuff mixed in now (Rick Riordan).

Also, if none of you know by now, spoilers will probably show up some way soon if not already.

Fun Fact: Swag is an art term for the folds in clothes, such as, for example, a toga.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!