#mgime

For just a moment, there’s blissful silence.

A black nothingness, void of all sound and light.

Then, she hears it. It sounds like...music. Beautiful harmonies all sounding at once, flowing through the void, cocooning her in warmth. She can feel the vibrations of it, the music seeping deep into her very soul.

The music is moving her, keeping her afloat in the void. She feels nothing but the vibrations of the music, no temperature, no sensation. She’s simply floating through the vast void.

Time is meaningless. It could have been minutes, hours, days, a millennia and she wouldn’t know better. She’s simply floating, held aloft by the beautiful music.

Light begins to flicker above her, pinpricks forming into definitive circles. The circles get larger, the music swelling to a crescendo as light encompasses her, blocking out the void of darkness.

There’s a faint hint of music in her ears as her eyes crack open, squinting against the bright light above. She’s disoriented, her head swimming as she holds a hand up to try and block out that oppressive light. Confusion runs through her mind, twisting her thoughts as she tries to grasp anything, any shred of memory or recollection.

There’s nothing there.

She becomes aware of her body next. Her limbs ache, and there’s a steady pulsing in her temples. The light isn’t helping, only intensifying that throbbing. She lets out a sigh, rubbing her eyes. Something tickles her arm as she moves it, her hand dropping to touch whatever it was. Soft, delicate, clumps of it come together as she curls her fingers around it.

Grass.

That’s what that’s called.

Awareness comes back to her suddenly, shooting through that pulsing in her brain. That bright light above her is the sun. She’s laying in a patch of grass. The back of her shirt is slightly damp. She must have been laying here for a while. There’s water running nearby, and there’s a rustling sound as a warm breeze blows over her. She glances up, tilting her head back to look. There’s a tree behind her, its branches extending above her. She can hear birds in the distance, and the buzz of insects in the air. Outside. She’s outside.

Now what is she doing outside?

Rose tries to think back, tries to come up with something, some answer, some explanation, but there’s nothing. No memory of how she came to be here, why she’s waking up laying in grass outside. The last thing she remembers…

The hospital, bright lights, sterile air, so many tubes attached to her body. The doctor trying to give her a hopeful look but she knew. The heaviness in her chest, the wheezing breaths were enough to tell her everything. Soon she wouldn’t even be breathing on her own.

Panic starts to settle in as she gasps for air, pressing a hand to her chest. She can’t breathe. There’s no tube, no oxygen flowing into her lungs. She coughs, but nothing comes up. The panic starts to ebb as she sucks down breaths of clean, fresh air. The heaviness is gone. There’s no rattling with her inhales.

She can breathe.

That should be impossible. She hasn’t breathed clearly in nearly a year. There’s no urge to cough, no taste of blood on her lips.

Has she been miraculously healed somehow?

She clutches the grass as she sucks down big, deep breaths of air. She’s never breathed in air so clean before. Where is she? The hospital was in the middle of the city and definitely didn’t have any trees or grass like this, much less air that smells this good. She doubts the doctors would have let her outside, even if she was suddenly miraculously healed. Her immune system is shot regardless. It’ll take months or years to fully strengthen again after two rounds of chemo.

So where is she? And how did she get here?

“I hope you don’t intend to lay there all morning.”

A startled gasp leaves her lips as she shoots up into a seated position. Her head throbs at the sudden change, pulsing behind her eyes. A sharp bolt of fear slices through her. She has no idea where she is and she’s been laying there in the open completely vulnerable.

Anyone could have walked up to her at any point and she wouldn’t have realized it at all.

In fact, the owner of that voice did exactly that.

She turns her head to her left, her chest heaving in fear at what she might find waiting there. Or, rather, who.

An old man dressed in grey robes stands there, leaning against a wooden staff. At first glance, he doesn’t seem threatening, not with the pointy hat on his head. A long grey beard hangs from his chin, bushy brows sticking out over kind eyes. They are kind, she thinks, perhaps a bit mischievous as she stares at him, taking him in. No, the longer she stares at him, the more she comes to the conclusion he’s not dangerous, at least to her. If he wanted to hurt her, he would not have alerted her to his presence.

He seems familiar to her. She can’t quite place his face, though. He’s certainly not one of the hospital staff, not dressed like that.

She eases herself onto her feet, wincing at the ache in her muscles. That hadn’t gone away fully, it seems. The man watches her closely as she brushes dirt and grass from her clothes. Clothes. Not a hospital gown, not the sweats she usually lounged in. Real clothes. A simple tunic and pants with a pair of boots on her feet. Nothing she would have worn normally. Certainly not anything she brought to the hospital with her.

Rose glances back at the man now that she’s standing, shocked to find she has to look up at him. Way up at him. He’s tall, taller than he had looked when she was laying down.

“I take it you have not been here long.” He says, looking her over. “Their timing is getting better.” He murmurs the last bit to himself, but she hears it anyway. Their timing? What on earth does that mean? He turns on his heel, beginning to walk away from her. “Come, my dear. We have a long way to go yet and I’d like to get back before supper.”

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, trying to catch up to the situation at hand. This man seemed to know her, but she has no distinct memory of him, even if he does seem familiar to her. She hesitates as she watches him walk away from her. He expects her to follow him just like that? No introductions, just a simple ‘follow me’ and she’s just supposed to do as he says?

He turns back to look at her, an expectant look on his face. “Come, Miss Rose, we must make good time.”

He knows her name. He’s familiar enough with her to know who she is. Still. Should she follow him? What else is she going to do? Lay in the grass until she remembers how she got here? That could be days, weeks, maybe never. Does she wait and take her chances with someone who could be less friendly? This man seemed to at least know her, so perhaps in following him she might get some answers.

‘Follow him.’ The words brush past her like a breeze, no louder than a whisper.

She spins on her heel, looking around for the source of the voice. It had been a voice that had whispered to her, but it’s only the two of them that she can see. Her heart thuds in her chest. Something is going on, and she feels lost as to what it could be. A shiver runs down her spine as another breeze brushes past, even though the air is not particularly cold. In fact, it’s rather warm out.

She turns back around, spying a pack leaning against the base of the tree. Is it hers? It must be, since there’s no one else around. It’s not a pack she recognizes. Certainly not the purple backpack she’d brought to the hospital. Maybe something inside will tell her where she is and how she got here. She picks it up, finding it surprisingly light compared to how full it looks. She slings it over her shoulder, turning back to the man.

As crazy as it sounds, she’s going to do what that little voice told her.

She’s going to follow him.

She hurries over to the grey man, the two of them setting off down a dirt path leading through the trees. His pace is slow, thankfully, given her short legs. He must be a giant, or at least very tall. Or she’s just very short. That also could be a possibility.

Questions begin to queue in her mind as they walk quietly. There’s so many things she wants to ask, but she’s not sure how much she’s going to get out of this mysterious man, if anything at all.

“Who are you?” She braves the question, hoping at least to get a name to call him by.

“My name is Gandalf.” He says simply, almost as if she should know that already. “Gandalf the Grey.”

Rose stops dead in her tracks in the middle of the road. “What did you just say?”

The man stops, turning back to face her. “I told you my name.” He says. “Gandalf the Grey.”

“That’s…” Rose gulps down a deep breath, her heart starting to thud in her chest. “That’s not possible.”

“I assure you, my dear, it is.” The man...Gandalf says.

“No, no, it’s not…” Rose puts her hands on her knees, trying to breathe. That familiar tightening in her chest begins again. “It’s a story. It’s just a story. Middle Earth is fantasy. It’s not real.”

There’s no way. This is all some elaborate joke. Some sort of ‘sorry you’re dying’ event being thrown for her. One last hurrah, giving her a chance to live out her favorite fantasy series before she passes on to whatever comes next.

Maybe this is what comes next.

Maybe this is the afterlife. Maybe she did die in her sleep, peacefully like she would have preferred. Or maybe she’s finally slipped into a coma like she was told she might towards the end. When her body is so full of cancer she’s barely existing beyond a few machines keeping her alive until her inevitable end. This is what her brain came up with to keep her comfortable until she finally passed on.

“It’s not...it’s not possible.” She gasps, feeling dizzy. “People don’t just...fall into fantasy stories.”

Well, it happened in Chronicles of Narnia. Who’s to say there wasn’t a bit of truth to it and there are wormholes that could transfer you to magical lands on Earth. How on earth did she find one, then? She can’t remember even leaving the hospital bed.

Somehow she got transported here, to Middle Earth.

It has to be some kind of elaborate joke. Some kind of delusion brought on by her dying.

But, the heat of the sun feels very real, the ground under her feet feels real. The slight breeze brushing against her skin feels very real. She pinches herself.

It hurts.

She sinks down into a squat, putting her head in her hands. “What year is it?”

“It is 2941 in the Third Age.” Gandalf answers her. He sounds closer now.

Great. She’s in The Hobbit.

“We’re going to Bag End to meet with Bilbo and the dwarves, aren’t we?” She says.

“Indeed we are.” Gandalf says, sounding unsurprised by her knowledge.

Fuck. She sucks in a breath. If she’s going to Bag End, then that means she’s going to get dragged on the quest with them. Why? Why her? Why now?

She pushes herself up to stand, staring up at Gandalf. She’s definitely smaller than she remembers being. She’s no hobbit, though, and she’s guessing by the lack of beard she’s no dwarf either. Just a very small human. “Do you know why I’m here?”

He shakes his head. “I do not. I know where you come from, but why...that has not been revealed to me.”

“Of course.” She sighs. “I’m going to have to figure that out on my own, right?”

“I believe the answer will come to you with some time.” He says.

Just as elusive as he is in the books and movies, it seems.

She sighs, adjusting her bag on her shoulders. “Right. I guess we should get going, then. Don’t want to be late.”

She’s crazy. She’s gone crazy. This is some kind of manic acceptance of her situation. She somehow found her way to Middle Earth in the time of The Hobbit and she’s about to join Thorin’s company to go reclaim Erebor.

There’s absolutely nothing terrifying about that.

They walk in silence for a while, a horse pulled cart passing them going the other way. She looks after it, wishing she were riding in a cart right now with how her feet have begun to ache. They’ve barely walked for an hour and already she’s growing tired. Whoever brought her here evidently didn’t give her extra energy. She can’t remember the last time she went on a long walk. Any kind of exertion brought on coughing fits and worsened her wheezing.

She’s clearly better than she had been when she left her Earth. Had whoever brought her here healed her? Or had they simply delayed the inevitable and improved her symptoms enough she could face this task head-on? Would she die regardless? What happens if she dies here? Does she get transported back to Earth, or is it like a video game and she respawns in the place she started in until she succeeds?

She has so many questions, and she knows she will get no answers out of Gandalf, even if he is lying and does know why she was brought here. What typically happens in these kinds of stories? People get sent to prevent things from happening, but what if that messes with the timeline too much? Maybe this is a personal quest, some kind of journey meant for her to find her own strength.

Maybe this is just her brain trying to make dying more comfortable by putting her into one of her favorite stories until her body inevitably gives out. Can she get hurt here if it really is a dream? Pinching herself hurt. Her feet certainly hurt.

That thought only makes her stomach twist more. Will this timeline follow more closely to the books or the movies? The books were the original timeline, but perhaps the creation of the movies changed things. Maybe that was why she was here. Make things happen more like the book. Or maybe she was here to prevent certain things from happening. But what exactly? What all could she prevent from happening?

Maybe all of it.

There would be no convincing Thorin not to go on this quest. Movie or book version, he wouldn’t listen to her, someone he doesn’t know or trust, even if she does reveal she has knowledge of the future. In the end they do succeed, but at a devastating cost. If Sauron and Smaug really do have an alliance, or will form one in the future, then Smaug needs to be driven out and killed. She needs to ensure at least that happens for the sake of the rest of the timeline of Middle Earth. So the quest does have to happen. But what can she really change? How much of it needs to happen?

She just really wants a clear answer.

“Let us take a short rest.” Gandalf says, stepping off to the side of the road towards a large tree looming over the path.

She’s silently grateful as she removes her pack and sinks down onto a large root. Her feet are screaming and she’s starving. The last time she ate...she can’t remember. It would have been in the hospital and she didn’t have much of an appetite anymore anyway. Apparently here that appetite is back.

She opens up her pack, digging around inside. A water skin and a pouch of dried meat sits on top, and below it a couple more tunics and at the bottom a folded cloak. Her fingers brush something solid and she wraps her fingers around the hilt of the small knife. Great. Middle Earth is dangerous and all she gets is a pocket knife.

She takes a big drink from the water skin, the water cool and clear on her tongue. She’s never tasted such clean water before. Clean, untouched by industry and pollution, just like the air. She takes in another deep breath, waiting for that inevitable hitch, the pain, the wheezing, the rattling cough that would come with such a deep breath, but her lungs remain clear and strong.

Gandalf lights his pipe, blowing smoke rings into the air. She shakes her head, biting off a piece of the dried meat. It’s tough, but it’s food. A feast awaits them in Bag End, but she can’t wait that long. Gandalf had said they should arrive in time for supper, not tea like in the books. Perhaps her arrival here is what has delayed the party. Maybe her being here is changing things already.

“You think much, Miss Rose.” Gandalf says around his pipe.

She huffs out a laugh. “Still just trying to wrap my head around all of this. Being here, knowing what’s going to happen. I mean, I can guess what’s going to happen, but I can’t be sure. What if me being here is already changing things?”

Gandalf is silent for a moment. “We cannot know for certain what is going to transpire in the future. Even those with such gifts cannot speak with certainty. The smallest thing may change the course of the future.”

“The butterfly effect.” She says. “It’s a...concept where I come from.” She continues at Gandalf’s curious glance. “The smallest event happening now can cause a change in larger, future events. The beat of a butterfly’s wings in one part of the world may cause a hurricane far away in another part of the world.”

Gandalf is silent again for a moment, mulling on her words. “I cannot say for certain what your purpose is, Miss Rose. Perhaps you were brought here to make a small change, or a large one. It will be revealed to you in time.”

“I hope you’re right.” She sighs, repacking her food and water in her bag. “I have no idea where to start. I don’t even know which timeline I’m in. Book or movie.”

“Movie?” Gandalf’s brows furrow.

“It’s...sort of like a stage play.” She scratches her head, trying to figure out how to explain this best to him. “The book version of these events are different from the movie. Very different. I don’t know which timeline this one will follow. I mean, if we were following the original timeline in the book, then we would have arrived at Bag End for teatime.” She glances up at the sun high overhead. “Something tells me we’re not going to make it.”

Gandalf hums. “Perhaps your best course of action for now is simple observation.”

It’s not a bad idea. How else is she supposed to try and figure out what has changed, what timeline she’s in, what she’s supposed to change, if anything at all? Maybe she really is here for her own sake. A fun little journey before her lungs give out.

Why couldn’t she have wound up somewhere safer, though? Like Narnia? Narnia would have been nice.

They continue on after their short rest, the landscape around them changing. Trees open to farmlands spread out over the rolling green hills. It’s beautiful. She’s never seen so much green before, even on road trips outside of the city. Everything feels more vibrant here. Brighter. Maybe it’s the sun. It’s a different sun from what she’s familiar with. Even though it shines bright overhead it’s not overbearingly warm. If anything, it’s a little cool. It is supposed to be April, though, and there’s no global warming that she knows about.

The traffic along the road picks up as they near the Shire, or at least closer to the Shire she recognizes. Some of them greet Gandalf by name, others give him cautious glances. She’s well aware of his reputation among the hobbits, even this early on.

They take no more breaks, even as the sun dips lower and lower in the sky. They’re getting closer to the more inhabited area of the Shire, judging by the hobbit holes starting to pop up, nestled in the hills. Her excitement begins to grow, not just from the fact she’s about to see Bag End in person, but also because she’s hungry and would love nothing more than to sit down and not move until tomorrow.

She watches in awe as the sky turns from crystal blue to orange to pink. It’s the most beautiful sunset she’s ever seen. She wants to stop a moment and fully take it in, but she knows they have somewhere to be. Somewhere important, and she doesn’t want to make them late. She’ll get to see plenty more Middle Earth sunsets on the road. She’s about to become very well acquainted with nature.

She was never really outdoorsy before she got sick. She was always more of a homebody, but that desire to get out and see the world intensified after her diagnosis. She only had so much time left, and she wanted to make the most of it.

She wasn’t that lucky, though.

Maybe this was some twisted way to grant that wish. Send her into one of her favorite stories and put her on a journey where she’s going to spend a lot of time on her feet outside.

It’s well past nightfall by the time they reach Bag End. The road had gotten less and less populated, as the hobbits were likely to be inside for their beloved dinner. Gandalf had gotten plenty of looks, though she had too, on their short journey. She was still taller than most of the hobbits, and she lacked the standard look of them. Another outsider bringing nothing but trouble. At least to them.

There’s a ruckus ahead as they climb the short hill to Bag End. It breaks the quiet of the night around them, many voices sounding loud in the air. Nerves start to twist in her stomach. She’s about to meet the first of the dwarves. Of course, she already knew them, but they would know nothing of her. For all she knows they have no idea she’ll be joining them on the quest as well. Perhaps Gandalf didn’t know until today either. He knew where to find her, though, and was obviously expecting her.

Though, she doubts Gandalf would have told them ahead of time, if the way he volunteered Bilbo for the quest was anything to go by.

Gandalf greets the dwarves in a friendly manner, earning friendly greetings back. Rose stands a ways back, tempted to crawl into the rosebush on the side of the road and hide. She’s nervous, very nervous. The dwarves were polite in the books and movies, though protective of their secrets. How will they react to her sudden appearance in their lives?

“And this, is Miss Rose.” Gandalf says, pulling her from her thoughts. She swallows thickly, adjusting her pack on her shoulders before stepping closer.

The eight dwarves before her stare at her in curiosity for a moment before they seem to remember themselves. The one in front, Bofur, removes his hat before sweeping into a bow.

“Bofur, at your service.” He says.

The others, Ori, Dori, Nori, Oin, Gloin, Bofur, and Bombur all follow suit, greeting her politely.

“Uh, Rose, at yours.” She says, unsure if she should bow or curtsy or do anything. She’s forgotten what she remembers about manners in Middle Earth. They differ among people, she knows.

“Come, let us join the others.” Gandalf says, motioning towards the gate. “We are in for quite the feast.”

Poor Bilbo. She thinks, watching the dwarves crowd upon the door. He has no idea what he’s in for.

Neither does she.

Summary:

What happens when two best friends get thrown into one of their favorite fantasy worlds? A world where they become part of a most beloved story - near and dear to them and a large chunk of their own world. Will everything be smooth sailing or will they be forced to make difficult decisions at every turn?

Join Meg and Rhi while they navigate Tolkien's Middle Earth, their minds, and their hearts in their adventure of Tolkien-verse. Laughter, singing, dancing, good food, and wine are to be expected but what are they to do about those Damn Durins? Can they make a difference or will it all fall apart anyway?

Author's Note: Sooo... I decided to move this over from AO3. We'll see how this goes lol have fun! Check out this while you wait for more here!

Chapters

1: The Shire 2: DWARVES 3: We're Going on an Adventure 4: Fight Songs 5: Everyday is an Adventure but Ok, the Flower Was a Surprise 6: Bruh...Braids? 7: S o f t & Sparkly~ 8: PSA: Elf Dresses Can Be Dangerous 9: Life Isn't Always Good Times, Sometimes it's Anxiety & Worry 10: *Ahem*... 11: Kíli's Mind 12: One 13: A Different World 14: Silent Hope & Chaos