Chapter 1
Thunder rolls in the distance. Shadowy clouds hang heavy in the sky threatening to drop rain at a moments notice. The light streaming through my window swathes the room in dull grey, matching my mood. Even from inside I can feel the bite in the wind.
I sigh and pull my black leggings up over my hips. My favourite bra and white long sleeve v-neck shirt come next; I don't care if it rains, I'm home alone right now anyway. I pull on my long blue knit socks and an army green light canvas jacket. I look like your basic white girl in fall. I think to myself and half-heartedly roll my eyes at my image in the mirror.
I throw my pretty floral water bottle bag over my head, so it lays across my body, shove my phone in the outside pocket, and head to the back door. My green rubber boots complete my look. I lock the door behind me and grab my simple longbow and arrows, and start the trek to the back of our rural property. My makeshift haybale target is set up about 100 yards from the house against out treeline.
The cold wind tickles my back and blows my loose hair around, but I ignore it. I stick my arrows in the soft ground then toss my cheap strapless quiver aside. I get one round, 12 arrows, in before the clouds open up and dump their contents on me. I just stand looking up as the rain pelts down on me.
I want to lay down on the ground and let the rain cover cathartic tears, but the ground is already soaked as I'm at the bottom of a hill that naturally collects water. Instead, I shove the morose, choking, feelings down and go retrieve my arrows. 10 of the 12 stuck in the target and the other two lay along the edge of the trees.
The downpour seeps through my jacket easily and drowns my hair quickly. I can see the pieces of my normally, mostly, straight hair start to curl. I set my arrows up beside me again and face my target. My first two shots land short. Frustration builds beneath my eyes, and I pull back on the bow string harder.
Depression's a funny thing. An episode can come out of nowhere and affect every part of you. My arms are tired and heavy, and my throat feels closed as I fight not to let it overcome me. I release and the arrow lands with a satisfyingly loud and deep thud. The sound echoes in the space around me with each of my next few shots. As satisfying as it is, it's not enough.
Pressure swells under my eyes again and my bottom lip quivers. I pull back on the bow string as hard as I can; it bites into the creases of my fingers. Against my best efforts a few tears slip out. I release and watch as the arrow soars over the target and into the forest. I sigh. Into the forest I go. My shoulders sag and my boots slosh through the puddles as I go.
Thunder rumbles directly above me and I look up skeptically. I should get the arrows and go back inside. I set my bow down at the target as I pass, then head for the trees; it's easier to push the branches aside with empty hands. It seems to have gone farther than I thought; I'm already 15ft or so into the brush.
The ground is littered with fallen dead trees and branches and mossy green grass. On top of that, many smaller living tree branches fan out at eye level making it harder to navigate. Thunder crackles above me again and I look up just in time to see lightening strike a tree not far from me. The trunk splinters down the centre and a large piece comes loose. In my haste to move out of the way I stumble and trip over a dead tree trunk. The back of my head connects with the ground and the last thing I hear is a thump as the falling tree embeds in the ground beside me.
My head is pounding but at least it's stopped raining. It must have stopped recently though since my clothes still cling, cold and heavy, to me. I push myself upright and my water bottle, bug spray, phone, and granola bar tumble out of my water bottle bag. Ugh. My head throbs and I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes before shoving my stuff back in the small bag. It barley fits but I like to have them with me so I don't have to walk back to the house if I want something.
I give myself a minute before standing. I should collect my arrows then get some ice for my head. Confusion creeps in as I search the ground. In place of the mossy grass are long green blades and 4 leaf clover looking plants. I scan the trees and instead of the short skinny half dead ones of my back yard, are tall full green ones. I turn in a slow circle; my property line is nowhere in sight.
I didn't think I had gone any farther than normal. To my right looks thinner so I head that way. Nothing looks familiar and I feel panic start to creep in. I come to a small fire and the tiniest bit of relief fills me. The fire is fresh, but the campsite is empty. An intentional fire like this means people. People means getting back home. My best bet is to sit and wait.
I sit on the makeshift stump seat and pull out my phone. No signal. I open my music app and scroll through some of the songs I've downloaded. In an instant something cold and sharp is pressed against my throat. Instinctively, I pull back but someone at my back blocks my way.
"What devilry is this?" A gruff voice asks. I freeze.
"It's just my phone." I say quickly.
"Phone?" The word sounds foreign coming from his mouth.
"Yes?" Who doesn't know what a phone is? Just my luck I wait in some lunatic's camp. "You know, talk to people long distance-" I start sarcastically but he interrupts me.
"Disable it." I move it out in front of me so he can see as I hold the side button. I slide my finger across the screen to power it off and it goes dark. "Relinquish it to me."
I hesitate and he flexes the blade warningly against me. I hold it up by my head so he can take it. This is crazy. I just gave my only form of contact away. But the guy has a knife to my throat. What else am I supposed to do? I hear rustling and then he moves the pointed tip to my back.
"Stand and face me." I follow his instructions slowly, knife… no, dagger, painted at me the whole time. "Why do you linger in my camp?"
"I'm lost." I swallow, looking at the metal threatening me. "I was waiting for someone who could lead me out of the forest."
"Why is a maiden lost in the woods?" I reel back at the uncommon, old fashioned, word. Maiden? He clears his throat.
"I got injured while retrieving my arrows." He searches me and the ground behind me with his eyes.
"You carry no bow nor quiver of arrows and I've seen naught around my site."
"I left them at my target, I only came in for one arrow." He contemplates me as if gauging my honesty.
"Your name?"
"Brielle." He regards me strangely. "What's your name?"
"Most call me Strider, you may address me as such." An unlady like laugh escapes me and I throw my hand up to cover my mouth. Relief floods me.
"Mm right. Your actual name." He looks confused at my insistence.
"Strider." He says firmly. I roll my eyes.
"Okay, whatever. Stay in your roleplay, cosplay, whatever character. Can you put the blade down and show me the way out? Then you can get back to whatever part you guys are acting out." He stares at me bewildered.
"This is no act. Who have you seen impersonating me?" He presses forward and I take a step back, hands raised. The fire pops behind me and I stop.
"No one. No one, I'm just confused from the hit to my head." He's clearly dedicated to this character. "Look, can you just lead me out of the forest please. My head is killing me, and I need a change of clothes."
He looks down to my soaked clothing then quickly averts his eyes. I look down and heat floods my cheeks. The dark rose gold of my bra is visible through my now translucent white shirt. I pull my jacket closed and he lowers the dagger.
"Let me ensure you are fit for travel ere we begin." I stand where I am until he motions for me to sit on the stump I was previously on. I eye him critically but decide to sit. Whatever gets me out of here quicker.
My scalp tickles as he gently moves my now half curly, half wavy copper hair around. He softly prods and I flinch when he touches a particularly tender spot. He extracts his fingers from my head with a quiet apology.
"I see no open wounds. Inform me if you require a break." A break? How far into the forest did I go? Are there even people on the other side of the forest? I can feel the rate of my breathing pick up.
"Mayhap we should tarry." He says looking concerned.
"No, no. I'm fine. Just anxious about being lost." I assure. He nods once, still uncertain.
"Allow me a moment." He moves to the fire and kicks sand on it to extinguish it, then he gathers a small pack I hadn't noticed on the ground. "Follow me." He says plainly and walks in the direction I was originally travelling.
We walk in silence for what feels like hours. I'm just about to request a break when the sounds of people fill my ears. It's a few more minutes before he steps onto a path leading to town. I freeze at the treeline, and he turns back to me in question.
"Where are we?"
The street is cobblestone. Through the open wooden gate, I can also see old buildings. The bottom halves are made from stone while the tops are made of weathered wood. People move about in long dresses or pants, and ride past in buggies pulled by horses.
"Bree." He answers and I almost pass out on the spot. I sway and he rushes to steady me. "What direction is your home?"
"I…" I choke out while shaking my head. There's no way. I pinch my wrist. It's slightly numb so I do it again. And again. And again. Each pinch hurts a little more as the shock wears off. Aragorn… er Strider, notices and holds my hands apart.
"Come, we can rest at the Inn until you are well."
Numbly I follow him as he leads us to the inn. The Prancing Pony. He secures a room and guides me to it. I sit on the bed and try to focus on my breathing while Aragorn… Strider… whoever goes to the window. What do I do now? I have no home here.
"Rest. I am awaiting company and will be in the main hall if you have need of me." He pauses just before he steps through the door. "Here, I believe this is yours."
He holds out my phone to me. I stare at it, my brain in snail mode. Slowly I take it from him. He gives me a concerned look then turns to the hearth. He quickly lights me a fire then leaves. I take a deep breath then stand and face the room. There's a chair in the corner which I drag toward the fire. I lay my jacket and socks on it, then sit on the wooden floor to try and dry myself. It doesn't take long since most of me dried on our walk back.
I put my socks back on but leave my books and jacket. I push the chair back so it can't catch fire, then go to lay on top of the bed's blankets. There's no way I'm in Middle-Earth. But there's no way this is fake either. There is nothing like this around my, around my home.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Oh god, what's my sister thinking? We were supposed to have a girl's night for her birthday. What day is it here? Are the timelines even similar? Timeline. Where am I in the Lord of the Rings timeline? I force my mind to quiet and drift off to sleep, briefly the sound of rain on the window registers.
The door banging off the wall startles me from my sleep. A small boy is pushed in and falls to the floor. Aragorn follows him in. Frodo? I push myself upright but neither take any notice of me.
"What do you want?" Frodo asks, his voice almost identical to his movie portrayal.
"A little more caution from you." Aragorn says sternly. Frodo looks scared and something compels me to comfort him, maybe it's knowing the awful journey he's about to go on. I stumble out of bed and move to stand in front of him. Aragorn looks from me to the half of Frodo peeking around me.
"Are you frightened?" He asks.
"Yes." Frodo answers.
"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what haunts you." Aragorn says gravely, threateningly.
"Enough!" I say. They both look at me, but I keep my gaze on Aragorn. "You can relay information without scaring him half to death. He's going to-" I stop myself and clear my throat. "I'm sure he's going to be scared enough in the future with the way you guys are talking." Aragorn studies me and I look down to Frodo to avoid is scrutinizing gaze. The last thing I need is for him to pick up that I know something and use me to change things or cast me away for being a 'witch'.
The door bangs open again and Sam, Merry, and Pippin burst through. Sam has balled fists while Merry and Pippin hold a candelabra and bar stool. There's a moment where everyone assesses each other before Aragorn turns to extinguish the candles and Sam unballs his hands. The three Hobbits rush over to Frodo and check he's alright.
"Stay here. They're coming." Aragorn says and leaves us in the room together.
"Well." I say trying to break the tension. "I don't think all of you will fit in the one bed so why don't we make a floor bed for you?" I suggest and start pulling blankets off the bed.
"Oh, we mustn't miss. Then you'll be cold tonight." Sam says.
"Oh, it's alright…" I trail off hoping he'll introduce himself so I don't have to worry about accidently saying their names.
"Samwise Gamgee milady, but you can call me Sam."
"And we're Merry and Pippin." Pippin chips in. I smile at his exuberance.
"My name's Brielle. And don't worry about the bedding. I was sleeping before you guys came in. I'm good now."
We work together to layout a bed for them with the few blankets we have. They line up along the wall and use their packs as pillows. I push the bed over a bit to give them more room then sit cross legged on it.
"How do you know Strider?" Merry asks as they pull the blanket up over themselves.
"I don't really. I got lost in the woods earlier and he helped me get back to Bree." Aragorn comes back in and takes the chair by the window.
"No more wood on the fire. We need to let it die down. I made a decoy in your room. Let's hope it is enough." I narrow my eyes at him for trying to scare them more.
"You guys should try and get some sleep. The sooner you sleep the sooner breakfast comes." I tack the last bit on, trying to persuade them. It does the trick, and they close their eyes. I smile sadly at them before turning on the bed to face Aragorn; he's studying me instead of looking out the window. "What?" I ask.
"You should sleep as well." He says instead of answering my question. I shake my head.
"I was sleeping before you all came in." In truth I can't sleep knowing the Nazgûl will be so close to us soon. Aragorn and I stare out the window silently for what feels like hours. Frodo sits up suddenly and I know they're here. Frodo gets up and moves to sit beside me on the bed.
"What are they?" He asks, slightly rocking back and forth. Aragorn looks at me as if deciding what, if anything, he should say.
"They were once men, Great Kings. Then Sauron gave them 9 rings of power. One by one they fell into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgûl. Ring Wraiths. Neither living nor dead." A shiver wracks my body at his words. "Sleep. At daybreak we make for the Wild." The Hobbits all climb back into their spots and sleep quickly. I continue to look out the window.
"It is alright to be frightened but-"
"I'm not scared." I cut off Aragorn. He regards me blankly. I sigh. "Look, I appreciate your attempt to comfort me, but I don't need it. I just want to go home." I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, then rest the side of my face atop them.
"The roads of Bree should be safe for travel by morning-" He stops when he notices my head shaking.
"I'm not from Bree."
"Then from where do you hail?" I look at the Hobbits debating how much I should tell him. I hate to ask for help, but I don't even know where to start in order to get home. I don't know if anyone else will know either, but Aragorn, Lord Elrond, or Gandalf are looking like my best bets right now.
"In relation to here, I have no idea." He looks confused and I continue before he can say anything else. "I'm not from here. I told you I got injured in a forest, but it was a forest on Earth. Not Middle-Earth." He looks torn between me and the Hobbits. "Take me with you." I blurt out.
"The Wild is no place for a woman, it's dangerous."
"No, please! You have to take me. No one here will know how to help me. There's got to be someone who knows something in-" I stop myself before I mention something he hasn't told me yet.
"Lord Elrond may be of help to you." He suggests reluctantly.
"Thank you!" I whisper shout.
"Sleep, I will wake you in the morning." He says.
"No need, I'll be up bright and early." Getting me to Lord Elrond will be more than enough help, I don't need more than that. Don't get your hopes up yet. He may not know anything, then you're on your own again. I scold myself. I lay down and curl up, trying to keep warm. Sleep quickly overtakes me.
I wake before anyone else does. Perfect. I sit and something falls from my shoulder. Aragorn's cloak. I frown at it uncomfortable. He's sitting in the chair still, asleep. I get up quietly and drape the cloak over him then leave the room.
It's easy enough to find the front room and the Inn keeper. He looks like he's just started to set up for the day. I watch quietly for a moment before approaching.
"Excuse me." I say and he startles. He whips around clutching a glass to his chest.
"Oh! I didn't hear you come in."
"My apologies. I was just wondering, if it's not too much trouble, could I get some breakfast for my friends? We're going to be leaving before first light." I say as best as I can in the manner which people here speak.
"Of course dear, you are with Strider and Mr. Underhill right?" I nod. "Let me prepare something right quick." I wait while he puts together a tray of bread, meats, and cheeses.
"Thank you." I say as he hands them to me. When I've got the tray securely in my hands, he grabs some cups and stacks them, and a pitcher of water, on the tray too. I nod in thanks and make my way back to our room.
I'm facing the door with my hands full, willing it to open, when it actually does. I almost drop the tray convinced I've developed some kind of power, but Aragorn comes into view and ushers me in.
"I heard you approach."
"Yeah, I went and got breakfast for everyone." I lift the tray for emphasis.
"I'll wake the Hobbits." He says and turns back to the room. I follow him in and set the tray on a small table to the side. I take a piece of meat and wrap it around some cheese to eat while I go back and close the door.
"The morning meal is here." Aragorn says, rousing the Hobbits. They quickly crowd the table, filling their plates. "Eh, Save some for Brielle." The Hobbits freeze and turn to me.
"Oh, it's alright. I've had some." I say, lifting the bite I have left. I pop it in my mouth and dare Aragorn with my eyes to say anything else about it. I know in the coming months the Hobbits are going to be starving. Between that, having a few extra pounds myself, and knowing I'm on my way to Rivendell, I can sacrifice one hearty breakfast.
Just under an hour later we're on the road, er dirt path. I walk behind Aragorn but in front of the Hobbits. I can hear them discussing Aragorn and wish I could stop them, but I already feel like I don't belong. I don't think anyone would appreciate me saying anything.
Pippin looks devastated as Aragorn turns away from his questions about second breakfast. A second later a couple apples come flying from the bush. I laugh as Pippin looks around confused.
"Here, you can also have this. But share it with the others!" I say and dig in my water bottle bag for my granola bar. It's the crunchy kind with peanut butter drizzle on top.
I hand it over to him and the other Hobbits gather round as he tears the 'strange' packaging open. There're two bars inside and he breaks each in half, then hands them out. Merry breaks his in half and offers me some. I smile but shake my head. He shrugs and pops the piece in his mouth.
His eyes light up like a Christmas tree. Pippin notices and hurries to shove a piece in his mouth too. He has the same reaction and Sam and Frodo quickly try theirs too. I giggle, they all look like kids on Christmas morning.
"Come on or were going to lose sight of Strider." I say and make to follow him.
We walk forever. Eventually it turns to snow covered grounds, and then we come upon a marsh of some kind. The air is humid, and the ground is soft and spongy. I'm incredibly grateful I was brough here with my rubber boots.
"What do they eat when they can't get Hobbit?" Merry asks, smacking the side of his face. I itch my hair line where I've been bitten. The bugs are awful here.
"Oh my god." I hit my forehead with my palm and stop. Sam doesn't notice and bumps into the back of me.
"Sorry Miss Brielle."
"Sam, for the hundredth time, you don't have to call me Miss, just Brielle is fine." I pull my can of bug spray out of my bag. "Here, hold out your arms, close your eyes, and hold your breath 'till I'm done." He does as I say, and I cover him in the spray. I wave away the extra from in front of his face then tell him he's good to go.
"It's a miracle, it is. The bugs are leavin' me alone!" I move behind him and do the same for the other three Hobbits who are all incredibly grateful. I turn to Aragorn but he's already watching me.
"Would you like some?" I offer.
"Women first." He nods at me. My face heats and I quickly cover myself so he doesn't have to spend too much longer being eaten alive. I hand the can to him, and he looks at it.
"Press down on this button." I say and demonstrate. He startles slightly when the spray comes out. I take my hand back and he quickly coats himself as well.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it." His brows furrow. "Er, you're welcome."
We walk late into the night as we all refuse to sleep anywhere near the swarms, even with my bug spray. We stop in a secluded area surrounded by tall trees and thick patches of grass. Aragorn wanders into the forest and Merry starts a small fire. The other Hobbits set up bedrolls.
Aragorn comes back with a deer slung over his shoulder and my stomach drops. He sets it down away from the bedrolls and pulls out a knife. I watch in horror as he starts cutting into the animal. It's morbid, like a car crash you can't look away from.
The scent of iron fills the air and a trail of red rolls down the deer's fur where the cut was made. Aragorn shaves off the skin and fur and cuts out a chunk of meat. He hands it to Sam for cooking. The sight of his hands covered in blood pushes me over the edge.
I slap my hand to my mouth and stumble away from the fire as quickly as I can. I find the nearest tree and empty the contents of my stomach behind it. I think I hear Aragorn ask Sam if he can 'finish this' but I'm too busy dry heaving to be sure.
"Are you alright?" Aragorn crouches beside me. I sit to the side and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I look to his hands. He must have washed them somewhere before coming to me since they're clean. I nod and take a deep breath.
"In my home meat comes precut and prepackaged. Most of it doesn't even look like real meat, never mind an actual animal." I say, still shocked. He looks at me with pity. "It's fine, I'm alright now." I stand and walk back to the camp. I assume he stands and follows me.
I refuse any food, still feeling nauseous, and honestly a little guilty. But I'm also glad that he brought it back to the camp already dead, or that might have done me in. Logically, I know that's how we get our meat, but we don't have to see it happening in a grocery store.
Sam and Frodo share a bedroll so that I have somewhere to sleep too. It's warm enough but does nothing to cushion the uneven ground. I also can't stop thinking about how close I am to so many bugs. Needless to say, it takes me a long while to fall asleep.
The next morning, I wake to a pressing need from my bladder. Aragorn is the only one awake and I get up hoping he doesn't question me. Alas, the universe hates me.
"Where are you going?" he asks quietly.
"I um, I have to uh, relieve myself." I say embarrassed. He nods once, uncomfortably.
"Do not go too far." I nod then turn away from the camp.
I walk what seems like a safe distance away and check my surroundings. With no sigh of anyone I pull down my leggings and squat. We have no toilet paper out here, so I wait to air dry then wash my hands in a nearby stream. The water is freezing and I'm dreading the time when I'll have to bathe.
We spend our days walking, walking, and more walking. Aragorn, bless him, has started preparing the meat away from camp. The image still makes me sick, but I try to at least eat a little bit since he goes through the effort of preparing it for us.
Each night the Hobbits take turns sharing a bedroll, so they all get turns stretching out. I feel bad, but aside from someone not sleeping there's not much to be done about it. Some nights I hear Aragorn up late humming or softly singing to himself, but eventually that stops, and he too sleeps for a short few hours.
When Aragorn says we'll rest at Amon Sûl, my stomach drops. How could I forget what happens next in the story. With one uncomfortable event after another, it slipped my mind where I am. The group is getting farther ahead, and I reluctantly drag my feet; not wanting tonight to come but not wanting to be left behind either.
The Hobbits flop down in our little alcove and Aragorn unwraps a bundle in front of them. Inside are a couple shorter swords. He tosses a sword to each one of them before standing and walking to where I am stood off to the side.
"Hold on to one of mine temporarily." He says unsheathing one of his longer swords.
"I can't… I've never…" I stammer, backing up.
"And I hope you will not have to. However, I need to scout the area and you need a means of defense should anything happen in my absence." He pushes the sword into my hands. I stand frozen as he walks away and disappears from view. I stand like that for a long time.
Frodo yelling 'put it out you fools' breaks me from my stupor. Shit. I should have stopped them. A screech pierces the air, and we all look over the edge. Black figures push swiftly through the fog covering the dark ground below.
"Go!" Frodo yells and unsheathes his sword.
He pushes me ahead of himself and all of us flee up a set of stone stairs. The moonlight paints everything a light blue glow and it feels cold and haunting. The stairs lead up to a half open platform. Crumbling stone pillars and walls lay along the edges.
Five black figures come through the arches of the mostly intact wall. Their swords are raised in front of their faces, and they walk almost as if they're moving in slow motion. Dread squeezes my heart sitting heavily in my chest. Their positions are so similar to each other they almost look like clones.
For every step they take forward, we take one back. They're the hunters, we're the prey. They're stalking us and it might be worse waiting for something to happen than to actually be in action. Frodo and I are pushed behind Sam, Merry, and Pippin.
"Back you devils!" Sam yells and charges them. I watch in shock as he thrusts his sword against the Wraiths'. He gets a few good slashes in before he's pushed to the side. Merry and Pippin freeze and are easily pushed to the side. Suddenly its just me between Frodo and his quickly approaching injury.
My protection instinct kicks in and outweighs my fear or peaceful nature. These may have been men once, and while their fate breaks my heart, it's too late for me to help them. Plus, if I don't do something now, Frodo will end up with a lifelong injury. It's like an out of body experience as all feeling leaves me and I move to defend him.
I wildly swing my sword and meet resistance. It's the only hit that I'm on the offensive for. After that I'm too preoccupied blocking attacks to initiate my own. It's not even been a minute and the Wraith spins to the side when I move to charge forward again. The Wraith slips behind me toward Frodo, but another Wraith engages me. Dammit.
The other three move around me and I'm left to fight alone. I hear Frodo's sword drop behind me and I increase my efforts. Cold sweat drips down my back and my muscles tire quickly against the shadowy figures speed and strength.
I hear two screams and they distract the Wraith I'm fighting. I take the opportunity and slash at the unguarded figure. My blade kind of cuts through the semi solid figure; it's like hitting a bag of water, the bag offers some resistance but the water just conforms to a new shape. It screeches and retreats through the archway behind it. Pain shoots through my hand and arm, and Aragorn's sword slips from my grasp. I want to scream but the pain is locking my jaw shut. I stare at my hand as it shakes and seizes.
"Frodo!" Sam calls and I push all feeling away so I can focus on Frodo. I'll deal with this later. I turn to see chaos. Frodo rocks on the ground, surrounded by Hobbits while Aragorn waves around a blazing torch. There are 2 Wraiths left so I go to Frodo. I lift his head into my lap and soothingly brush his hair back lamely with my left hand, keeping my right cradled against myself under my breasts.
Aragorn drops to his knees beside us and starts checking Frodo over. He also picks up the handle of a blade and inspects it. He curses and it starts to dissipate in his hands and blows away.
"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade. This is beyond my skill level. We need elvish medicine." Aragorn says, inspecting Frodo's wound.