By the time I regained consciousness, I found myself in a considerably different state than before. I was no longer beneath the shadow of that dark tower or near the badlands into which that corny vortex hard spewed me out. There was a nasty smell and I was quite uncomfortable. Upon opening my eyes I saw green moving below me. I figured that to be grass, only grass does not move of its own accord, thus I had to be the one doing the moving. The smell was a horse and my discomfort was brought about by my rope-bound hands and the fact that I was slung across the horse�s back, in front of the rider.
A groan escaped my lips and I shifted in hopes of finding a more comfortable position. My actions did not go unnoticed, for a gruff voice from above me spoke.
�Halt, men, halt! The lass has come about,� he declared as the horse stopped. It was then that I remembered. I had been running towards that river, towards the road, and there were those five men mounted on horses. They had charged at me and then everything had gone dark. I had passed out and now I was tied up and on a horse with a man who probably was going to kill me. Just an utterly fabulous way to wake up, I must say.
The man dismounted and the next thing I knew, big gloved hands grabbed my waist, pulled me off the horse, and set me on the ground. A sudden pain jolted up both my legs and then I recalled how I had cut my feet on those jagged rocks. I looked down at my feet to discover that my toe socks were gone and strips of bloodied cloth were tied about my feet. Well, at least if they had intentions of killing me they had the decency to wrap up my feet first. That was very considerate of them.
I stopped musing at my feet and looked up at the man who had pulled me off the horse. He was a really huge guy, but then again, I�m not exactly a person of remarkable height, either. He was broad-shouldered and was dressed in a funky medieval kind of way. I looked at his face to discover he had shoulder-length brown hair and this stubbly beard thing going on. I wanted to say something, anything, because he wasn�t saying anything, just looking at me, but then the realization hit me that I had no idea where I was or what time I was in.
I don�t always think before I act, but saying something wrong to this guy could get me killed, so I considered that risk calculated and scratched off the list of things I wanted to try. Instead, I looked back at my feet, which were really starting to hurt me. If this hairy clown wasn�t going to say anything to me I wasn�t going to stand there all day waiting. So, with great unease (due to my bound hands) I plopped onto my butt on the grass. The other men tensed at my sudden movement. I suppose they thought I was going to run away or kill someone, but considering my circumstance I�d say they were just neurotic more than anything else.
�Do you speak?� asked the brawny man as he lowered himself onto one knee in front of me.
�I do,� I replied hesitantly. He nodded, as if pleased. He reached to his belt and unsheathed a small blade. I didn�t know what he was going to do with it, and I was rather creeped out by it, but I tried not to let it show.
�We bear a heavy burden on our hearts this day, we need not bear you also,� he said with a notable gentleness in his voice. He motioned for me to hold out my hands, so I did, and he cut the ropes away from my wrists. I rubbed at them gently and he stared at me for a few moments before I realized I should thank him.
�Thank you,� I said quietly. I hoped they said �thank you� around here. Oh well.
�There is a great mystery surrounding you and your appearance from beneath the shadows of Minas Morgul,� he said, fixing his knife back at his belt. Minas Morgul? The name rang a bell somewhere in the back of my mind. I groaned. I was so confused; I thought my brain was going to explode.
�What is this place?� I asked. If Minas Morgul rang a bell maybe something else would too and I�d be able to figure out where the hell I was.
�We ride west through North Ithilien, along the river Morgulduin. We return to the White City of Minas Tirith,� he explained. That�s when the light bulb turned on. Holy crap I�m in Middle-earth. I didn�t see that one coming.
Now, generally, I�m alright with strange things going on in my life, because they happen quite often. But this incredibly realistic fanfiction clich� thing of me being warped into a fictional world was really quite disturbing. Most uncool. This kind of stuff was seriously not supposed to happen, least of all of me.
This was the part where I became glad that I took the time to sit down and read Tolkien�s works, but this sure didn�t look like the War of the Ring and this guy wasn�t any Elf of insane immortal hotness or a cool hobbit or something.
�What is the year?� I asked, trying not to sound like a retard.
�Why, it is the year 2050 of the Third Age, lass.� He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Damn the hairy man.
�You spoke of a burden on your hearts. Has something happened?� I asked. I was pretty good with the events that took place during the War of the Ring with the Fellowship and all that, but anything before that and I was more or less lost. He cast his eyes down to the ground and then spoke sadly.
