Hello! My name is Jessamine Kingsley. I live in the U.S. And no, I won't tell you where. I'm nineteen now, but when things started getting crazy for the first time I was only about seven. You might think I'm chemically imbalanced, or that I'm just plain insane. That's okay. You're allowed to be close-minded. But I'll share my adventures with you anyway, because I believe in educating those who desperately need to learn.

        For example, if I told you that since the age of seven I've been able to close my eyes and 'teleport' into another reality or time, you would probably refer me to the nearest mental institution, or call the Funny Farm and have them take me away. It's alright, I don't mind.

        Allow me to elaborate. One time, I closed my eyes and wished myself back into the time of the dinosaurs. I almost never made it home. Triceratops really are not as cute and cuddly as most people think. Fortunately, I was rescued by a hungry T-Rex, and managed to 'port myself home before experiencing serious bodily damage.

        Another trip to a different reality had me fighting the Romans with a tribe of Amazon women thousands and thousands of years ago. We won the day, but in the end, we lost the war. One more thing: Gladiators were not the charming, mannerly, handsome body-builders that Hollywood portrays them to be. Most often they were unclean, unshaven, mean brutes who killed for a living and to stay alive. Not the kind of men you bring home to mom and dad, okay, ladies?

        Now, I'm not expecting you to swallow all this like a spoonful of sugar. That would be unkind and very insensitive to the restrictions of the average imagination. But let me explain it like this: My gift, as I call it, is almost like being able to close my eyes and 'wish' myself into a very lucid dream; only it's not a dream, it's a reality. Full-color, 3- dimensional action, feeling, thought, lights, and sound. Very cool depending on your perspective.

        And yes, I realize there are certain technical things that must be explained. My parents? Ah, yes, my parents. My father, Allain Kingsley, is head of Kingsley Oil, a multi-million dollar corporation. My mother, Hannah Kingsley, you have probably heard of. No? Don't you read? Anyways, needless to say, money has never been a problem in my family. Sometimes I wish it had been. I lacked a lot of learning by always having everything I could want. Not that I'm complaining. It's good to have stuff. Stuff is good.

        My father, Allain, has the same gift that I do. It started for him when he was about nine years old, he's told me. At first he was terrified, because he'd wished himself right into the middle of the running of the bulls in Pamplona, and knew he was going to be trampled. But then, he'd just wished himself right back out, and landed exactly where he had been before. His parents were none the wiser.

        When he was fifteen he started high school, and confided his abilities to his best friend, Jackson Tyler, captain of the football team and star running back. My father was quarterback. They had so many adventures together that I'm sure I've yet to hear half of them.

        Then, at the age of twenty three, my father and Jackson, still best friends after high school, invited a new friend to come home with them. A young Egyptian Princess, set to ascend the throne after the death of her father, Pharaoh Kehemseket, just three days before. Her father had been murdered by his most trusted advisor, and she was terrified that she would be next in line to die. She and my father fell in love, and they convinced her to trust them to take her away to a different place where she would be safe.

        So they brought her here, pulled some strings and had an entire identity set up for her under the name of Hanna Mempset. Shortly thereafter they were married, and her Egyptian heritage was covered up. The only people who know who she really is to this day are myself, Jackson, my father, and my best friends Joey and Sabrina.

They know about me, as well. We've had many fun times, let me tell you. Especially during high school. Don't want to take a test? Let's go play around in the Amazon Rainforest for the day. Want to skip P.E.? Okay, we'll hop into the reality of our favorite movie for a few hours. Fast and Furious, anyone?

The amazing thing about my gift is the ability to create realities based on the philosophy that anything given life by the pen or the screen has basis in truth. In other words people can only write what they know must partly be true. You can say that some divine conduit popped into your mind and revealed something that you never knew existed before. We call that 'inspiration.' I call it plain and simple truth.

Okay. Now, perhaps, you're coming with me on my abilities. I know it's confusing and hard to understand, but I'm sure you're smart enough to answer the tough questions yourself, if you give it enough thought. No, I can't change time. I can step back into it, but anything that I do during that period that would have reverberating effects on the future disappears, until such time as I choose to revisit that exact reality. Make sense? Good.

Yes, my body physically disappears when I go 'somewhere else.' My father and mother tell me there is a slight shimmery cloud of smoke for the smallest of seconds, followed by a small snapping sound. Very subtle, thank goodness.

Alright, now that you've had some background on me, I can speed things up a bit. Let me give you the basics about me. I'm about five-seven. My hair is very long and very black, straight, thick, and shiny as the Egyptians used to treasure. My mother, having been a Princess, is very beautiful, especially when she dons her authentic Egyptian clothing. I thank her for passing her genes on to me.

I get my bright green eyes from my father, as well as my quick temper and often-foolish courage. Even though I do not always start it, trouble will usually find me in one way or another. It's a birth-rite or something.

Let's see, what haven't I told you? Ah, yes. I wear a size nine shoe, though you may not see how that's relevant. Actually, neither do I. Moving on. I have a feminine face I've been told, and an attitude (with the body moves to back it up) that would make Lara Croft proud. I've studied many different styles of fighting, but my most favorite of late is an ancient Japanese style involving the use of sais, fighting blades shaped like small short-handled tridents. You'll recognize them as the same weapons Raphael used in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Not that I ever watched that show or anything....

Anyways. What else, what else, what else....Oh, yes! I'm quite accomplished as a gymnast; been taking lessons since I was about five. Mom and Dad, having a suspicion that I would take after my father in my abilities, knew that equipping me physically was very important. Sometimes, as I've found, you end up having to crack some heads together to get out of some situations. Others require more finesse and flair. It's all a matter of perspective. Besides, my mother could outmatch me any day on the sais. She's good.

My best friend Sabrina Mitchell, who attended Parkview High School with me and has been my ally through many different situations, is about five-five, with very curly blonde hair and dark blue eyes. Sabrina has the I.Q. of Einstein, but is Reese Witherspoon from Legally Blonde personified.

She trains with me all the time, learning new fighting styles and all the other fun things you get to do when your parents are loaded. However, her favorite way to fight is with Chinese throwing stars. She's dead-on accurate from fifty yards. Once, she got mad at me and pinned me to a wall by the sleeves on my jacket. You would love her.

Her boyfriend of five years now, Wyatt, is also my other best friend. He's very tall, has short brown hair and brown eyes, stands about six-foot four, and is roughly the size of a small train. His muscles could give The Rock a run for his money, that's for sure. He works out, bodybuilding, every day, and is up-and-coming on the boxing circuit.

But, his personality is completely at odds with his bad-ass appearance. Wyatt Westinghouse is an overgrown teddy bear out of the ring, but don't tell anyone I told you. He really can break some heads when he's riled. I'm sure you'll witness it personally at some point or another.

But, he's also the closest thing to a brother I've got. He calls me Daisy because of my errant dislike of the over-popular flower, and makes it his life's work to be cheeky at inopportune times. However, my finesse with wedgie-giving improves daily thanks to him, so we keep him around.

Still with me? Good. Because we're going on another adventure today. Somewhere we've wanted to go for a very, very long time.

We're headed to Middle-earth, baby.

Sabs and Wyatt should be here any minute, so stay close and get ready for a wild ride....

Jumper
Chapter Two: Destination? Middle-Earth

It was nearly nine a.m. when the doorbell finally rang. I sat up straighter at the table and rolled my eyes. They were pushing an hour late, as usual. "I'll get it," I yelled to my dad, who was in the kitchen cooking something or another.

"It's about time you guys showed up," I said, feigning irritation.

"Sorry, hon. Traffic blows," Sabrina said, flashing me that famous go- getter grin.

"Hey, beautiful. Fancy a quick affair?" Wyatt grabbed me up in a bear hug and swung me around.

"Put. Her. Down."

"Sorry, babe."

"Thanks, Wyatt, but you know, you're not my type." I winked and nudged Sabrina in the ribs.

"So, how's tomorrow night for you?"

"Perfect."

"Honestly, you guys," Sabrina said, pulling a pear from the bowl of fruit on the hall table and biting into it, "you're enough to give a girl a complex."

"Aw, come on, Sabs!" I teased her, "Remember, sharing is caring!"

"My eye," she grumbled, pretending to be upset. She finished the pear and dropped the end pieces in the trash can, wiping her hands off on her faded Levis. "So. Are we going soon?" she asked me, shouldering the backpack slung over her shoulder. I hadn't noticed it before.

"Yeah, I think so," I said, pushing up the sleeves of my sweatshirt. "Just let me tell Dad we'll be off in a minute, and we'll be set to go." I hurried into the kitchen, finding my father cursing a piece of stubborn cutlery six ways from Sunday. I cleared my throat, and he jumped, nearly dropping the sharp knife on his bare toes.

"Stars and garters, Jess, make noise next time!"

"I just did."

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the counter. For a multi-millionaire, he really wasn't as sophisticated or stuck-up as most people would expect.

"Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that we'll be 'leaving' soon. Sabs and Wyatt just got here."

"Alright, hon. But please be careful. Don't get shot by any of those Urkel things or anything."

"Orcs, dad. God, don't you read?" I said, and huffed my way out of the kitchen. I yelled goodbye to my mother, who was in her study, writing away. She made millions off a series of stories about a young man who can travel through realities at will. Imagine.

"Alright, boys and girls, we're ready to go." I shouldered my own pack which sat by the door. Inside were many things that we were likely to need in Middle-earth. For one thing, a compass. We had considered a GPS, but seeing as Middle-earth is probably lacking in the satellites necessary for tracking, we opted out for something simpler.

We had also printed out and laminated mini-maps of all of Middle-earth, which were business card-sized and able to fit easily into a pocket. Along with that were canteens of water, first-aid kits, dried meat and berries, soft breads that wouldn't harden so fast, cheese, and some Power Bars in case of serious emergencies. We also each had two lighters for starting fires, as well as small bottles of liquid starter. Forget rubbing sticks together.

To complete the package we all carried Motorola radios to keep in contact with each other. They were very high-tech and very expensive. The batteries would recharge themselves when the power was off, and they were good for up to a five-mile radius without interference. And what kind of radio interference were we going to find in Middle-earth at any rate? Exactly.

The packs were doubly heavy as well, because of the 'costumes' I had had my mother make so we would not stick out so much. Wyatt's had been the easiest because he was male, and not so curvy as we were. Leggings, tunic, rigging for knives and a bow which he was very proficient at, long johns made of very light but very warm material, and leather boots.

The outfits for Sabrina and I had been harder to wrangle. Sabrina was too small and lacked strength for hand-to-hand combat fighting, relying solely on her accuracy with throwing stars. So, my mother had fashioned her a beautiful split skirt riding habit out of a deep gray, under which she wore slim-fitting leggings and undergarments that were light enough not to weigh her down should they get wet, the same material as Wyatt's were made out of. There were special compartments for the stars all over the outfit, and she wore finely woven gloves with reinforced fingers to prevent any cuts. There was also rigging for a short sword, and a small knife that went just inside her leather boots.

I, on the other hand, had to have an outfit suitable for hand-to-hand combat. It had to be easy to maneuver in, because I accept the fact that I'm a woman and not as strong as most of the men I could meet along the way. So, I've often been forced to rely on speed and agility rather than brute strength. Nonetheless, I haven't lost many fights. Leave it to women to make fighting a beautiful art form....

Anyways. My own getup was like that of a man's only tailored to fit my more feminine form. The leggings were leather, as was the tunic. The undershirt was a very silky material. I can't remember what my mother calls it, but it's so light and so warm it feels like you're cozied up next to a fire at night. It was a better choice than regular wool or regular silk, because silk freezes when it gets wet, and wool will drown you. I would very much like to know where my mother gets this material, but she will never say. She is something of a mystery herself, you know.

She fashioned my own outfit from beautiful chestnut-colored leathers. A bit of Egyptian flair had somehow managed to find its way inside as well. I was proud of my Egyptian heritage, even if I was not permitted to share it with the world. The leather lacing and tooling on the tunic and leggings had a distinctive Egyptian shape and twist, and there were gold threads through the cream-colored silk shirt that went over my undergarments. My mother had put a lot of work into these garments, but it had been a joy for her, I knew. She had been positively beaming when we asked her for help.

And now we were ready. We would change into our outfits in the barn, where we would get our horses before going to Middle-earth. Yes, we could and were taking horses. You can't make very good time in the wilderness on foot now, can you? No. And yes, it's quite simple to take them with you. All you need is to be touching, and the link is complete. Very simple indeed.

"Right, let's go, then," Sabrina said, flipping her long golden hair back over her shoulder and patting Wyatt on the back. "I want to go find a handsome Elf!"

"Hey!" Wyatt said, pretending to be offended. Sabrina just laughed.

"You two," I said, rolling my eyes. "Right, well, we'll be on our way then. The horses are all ready to go. Saddled them up myself this morning."

"Did that special sadlery come in that you requested?"

Wyatt had always loved horses, but until he met me he had never ridden one. Now he was an aspiring expert on them, and was over at my house at every opportunity to ride. Actually, I was surprised to discover that, in spite of his size, he had a natural knack for riding. Very surprising for a man who weighs almost two hundred and thirty pounds of solid muscle.

As such, he rode Black Magic, our purebred Friesian stallion. Solid black and nearly seventeen hands high, he was more than big enough to support Wyatt's bulk.

Sabrina rode Twilight, a Thoroughbred gelding with an excellent disposition. At sixteen point two hands high he was large and very, very fast.

And me? I opted for speed and smarts, and found both qualities, and many more, in an Arabian/Thoroughbred cross stallion named Challenger. He was feared by all the stable hands except Abrams, our chief stable manager, and myself. No one could get near enough to ride him save me. I suppose it's because I saved him from the glue factory and abusive owners. Too bad, too, because he was a champion.

At seventeen point two hands high, he was a monster to anyone who got in his way. His size was pure Thoroughbred, his conformation purely Arabian. I couldn't quite describe his color. Not black, not brown, but a rich combination of the two. And so shiny. He was so shiny that it was almost painful to look at his gleaming coat under bright sunlight. Normally, that's because I see to him every day myself and make it my personal responsibility.

The arch of his massive neck and the scoop of his elegant head were enough to proclaim him lord and master over all he surveyed, and few would argue. His legs were long and heavily muscled, now used to endurance running and jumping from all the long training sessions I put us both through.

He was more than enough horse to carry me through any obstacles I might face in Middle-earth.

We reached the barn shortly thereafter, trekking down the paved road nearly a quarter mile from the house. The paddocks were filled with horses of all shape, size, and health. My father loved horses as much as I, and we had turned part of our estate into a large horse ranch for saving abused and neglected animals. They whinnied at us as we passed, eliciting grins from Wyatt, who was sure they were talking to him.

The horses were still standing quietly, tethered under Abram's supervision.

"You kids be careful now," he warned, before leaving the barn.

"Good, I was hoping he wasn't going to see us off," Sabrina muttered.

"Me too. Come on, let's get changed," I said, heading back into the separate tack room at the opposite end of the barn. Wyatt stepped into the feed room and closed the door.

Minutes later we all emerged, packed and dressed. Our spare clothes we stuffed back into our packs in case of an emergency.

"Wow, we look good," Sabrina said to me, turning me around to inspect my clothing. "You're very Joan of Arc right now."

"Thanks. You, you're much more Arwen I'd say."

"Yes, but less ditsy."

"Exactly."

"And you're not as possessed as Joan of Arc."

"Oh, you're too kind."

"Hey, Jess?" she called as I started for the door.

"Yeah?"

"If we do meet the Fellowship, which would be awesome, do you think Wyatt would begrudge me a snog with Aragorn?"

A grinned and left the room.

Wyatt came out shortly thereafter, adjusting the rigging for his bow. "Wow," he said. "I'm dead, and you're gorgeous."

"One out of two isn't bad," Sabrina said dryly from behind me. Wyatt gave her the once-over, and then a twice-over. "That's it, I really am dead."

"Let's just go," she said, laughing as Wyatt pretended to die on the stall floor.

I crossed to the three horses and quickly tied blindfolds securely over their eyes. I didn't want them to be unnecessarily frightened by the jump.

"That's important to do, or the horses will freak. Alright, we're on our way. Okay, everyone, mount up," I said, taking Challenger's reins and vaulting into the saddle. Sabrina and Wyatt were mounted seconds later. "Alright?"

"Let's do this."

"Definitely."

"Okay, then, everyone close your eyes. On my mark. Three, two, one...."

As always, I felt the air around me begin to quiver, felt a pull in the pit of my stomach. Beneath me, Challenger tossed his head. This was his first time traveling this way, after all.

The familiar feeling of falling came over us, as usual, and Black Magic whinnied loudly.

And then it was over.

"Okay, everyone," I said. "Open up, we've arrived.. . . ."
It was nearly nine a.m. when the doorbell finally rang. I sat up straighter at the table and rolled my eyes. They were pushing an hour late, as usual. "I'll get it," I yelled to my dad, who was in the kitchen cooking something or another.

"It's about time you guys showed up," I said, feigning irritation.

"Sorry, hon. Traffic blows," Sabrina said, flashing me that famous go- getter grin.

"Hey, beautiful. Fancy a quick affair?" Wyatt grabbed me up in a bear hug and swung me around.

"Put. Her. Down."

"Sorry, babe."

"Thanks, Wyatt, but you know, you're not my type." I winked and nudged Sabrina in the ribs.

"So, how's tomorrow night for you?"

"Perfect."

"Honestly, you guys," Sabrina said, pulling a pear from the bowl of fruit on the hall table and biting into it, "you're enough to give a girl a complex."

"Aw, come on, Sabs!" I teased her, "Remember, sharing is caring!"

"My eye," she grumbled, pretending to be upset. She finished the pear and dropped the end pieces in the trash can, wiping her hands off on her faded Levis. "So. Are we going soon?" she asked me, shouldering the backpack slung over her shoulder. I hadn't noticed it before.

"Yeah, I think so," I said, pushing up the sleeves of my sweatshirt. "Just let me tell Dad we'll be off in a minute, and we'll be set to go." I hurried into the kitchen, finding my father cursing a piece of stubborn cutlery six ways from Sunday. I cleared my throat, and he jumped, nearly dropping the sharp knife on his bare toes.

"Stars and garters, Jess, make noise next time!"

"I just did."

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the counter. For a multi-millionaire, he really wasn't as sophisticated or stuck-up as most people would expect.

"Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that we'll be 'leaving' soon. Sabs and Wyatt just got here."

"Alright, hon. But please be careful. Don't get shot by any of those Urkel things or anything."

"Orcs, dad. God, don't you read?" I said, and huffed my way out of the kitchen. I yelled goodbye to my mother, who was in her study, writing away. She made millions off a series of stories about a young man who can travel through realities at will. Imagine.

"Alright, boys and girls, we're ready to go." I shouldered my own pack which sat by the door. Inside were many things that we were likely to need in Middle-earth. For one thing, a compass. We had considered a GPS, but seeing as Middle-earth is probably lacking in the satellites necessary for tracking, we opted out for something simpler.

We had also printed out and laminated mini-maps of all of Middle-earth, which were business card-sized and able to fit easily into a pocket. Along with that were canteens of water, first-aid kits, dried meat and berries, soft breads that wouldn't harden so fast, cheese, and some Power Bars in case of serious emergencies. We also each had two lighters for starting fires, as well as small bottles of liquid starter. Forget rubbing sticks together.

To complete the package we all carried Motorola radios to keep in contact with each other. They were very high-tech and very expensive. The batteries would recharge themselves when the power was off, and they were good for up to a five-mile radius without interference. And what kind of radio interference were we going to find in Middle-earth at any rate? Exactly.

The packs were doubly heavy as well, because of the 'costumes' I had had my mother make so we would not stick out so much. Wyatt's had been the easiest because he was male, and not so curvy as we were. Leggings, tunic, rigging for knives and a bow which he was very proficient at, long johns made of very light but very warm material, and leather boots.

The outfits for Sabrina and I had been harder to wrangle. Sabrina was too small and lacked strength for hand-to-hand combat fighting, relying solely on her accuracy with throwing stars. So, my mother had fashioned her a beautiful split skirt riding habit out of a deep gray, under which she wore slim-fitting leggings and undergarments that were light enough not to weigh her down should they get wet, the same material as Wyatt's were made out of. There were special compartments for the stars all over the outfit, and she wore finely woven gloves with reinforced fingers to prevent any cuts. There was also rigging for a short sword, and a small knife that went just inside her leather boots.

I, on the other hand, had to have an outfit suitable for hand-to-hand combat. It had to be easy to maneuver in, because I accept the fact that I'm a woman and not as strong as most of the men I could meet along the way. So, I've often been forced to rely on speed and agility rather than brute strength. Nonetheless, I haven't lost many fights. Leave it to women to make fighting a beautiful art form....

Anyways. My own getup was like that of a man's only tailored to fit my more feminine form. The leggings were leather, as was the tunic. The undershirt was a very silky material. I can't remember what my mother calls it, but it's so light and so warm it feels like you're cozied up next to a fire at night. It was a better choice than regular wool or regular silk, because silk freezes when it gets wet, and wool will drown you. I would very much like to know where my mother gets this material, but she will never say. She is something of a mystery herself, you know.

She fashioned my own outfit from beautiful chestnut-colored leathers. A bit of Egyptian flair had somehow managed to find its way inside as well. I was proud of my Egyptian heritage, even if I was not permitted to share it with the world. The leather lacing and tooling on the tunic and leggings had a distinctive Egyptian shape and twist, and there were gold threads through the cream-colored silk shirt that went over my undergarments. My mother had put a lot of work into these garments, but it had been a joy for her, I knew. She had been positively beaming when we asked her for help.

And now we were ready. We would change into our outfits in the barn, where we would get our horses before going to Middle-earth. Yes, we could and were taking horses. You can't make very good time in the wilderness on foot now, can you? No. And yes, it's quite simple to take them with you. All you need is to be touching, and the link is complete. Very simple indeed.

"Right, let's go, then," Sabrina said, flipping her long golden hair back over her shoulder and patting Wyatt on the back. "I want to go find a handsome Elf!"

"Hey!" Wyatt said, pretending to be offended. Sabrina just laughed.

"You two," I said, rolling my eyes. "Right, well, we'll be on our way then. The horses are all ready to go. Saddled them up myself this morning."

"Did that special sadlery come in that you requested?"

Wyatt had always loved horses, but until he met me he had never ridden one. Now he was an aspiring expert on them, and was over at my house at every opportunity to ride. Actually, I was surprised to discover that, in spite of his size, he had a natural knack for riding. Very surprising for a man who weighs almost two hundred and thirty pounds of solid muscle.

As such, he rode Black Magic, our purebred Friesian stallion. Solid black and nearly seventeen hands high, he was more than big enough to support Wyatt's bulk.

Sabrina rode Twilight, a Thoroughbred gelding with an excellent disposition. At sixteen point two hands high he was large and very, very fast.

And me? I opted for speed and smarts, and found both qualities, and many more, in an Arabian/Thoroughbred cross stallion named Challenger. He was feared by all the stable hands except Abrams, our chief stable manager, and myself. No one could get near enough to ride him save me. I suppose it's because I saved him from the glue factory and abusive owners. Too bad, too, because he was a champion.

At seventeen point two hands high, he was a monster to anyone who got in his way. His size was pure Thoroughbred, his conformation purely Arabian. I couldn't quite describe his color. Not black, not brown, but a rich combination of the two. And so shiny. He was so shiny that it was almost painful to look at his gleaming coat under bright sunlight. Normally, that's because I see to him every day myself and make it my personal responsibility.

The arch of his massive neck and the scoop of his elegant head were enough to proclaim him lord and master over all he surveyed, and few would argue. His legs were long and heavily muscled, now used to endurance running and jumping from all the long training sessions I put us both through.

He was more than enough horse to carry me through any obstacles I might face in Middle-earth.

We reached the barn shortly thereafter, trekking down the paved road nearly a quarter mile from the house. The paddocks were filled with horses of all shape, size, and health. My father loved horses as much as I, and we had turned part of our estate into a large horse ranch for saving abused and neglected animals. They whinnied at us as we passed, eliciting grins from Wyatt, who was sure they were talking to him.

The horses were still standing quietly, tethered under Abram's supervision.

"You kids be careful now," he warned, before leaving the barn.

"Good, I was hoping he wasn't going to see us off," Sabrina muttered.

"Me too. Come on, let's get changed," I said, heading back into the separate tack room at the opposite end of the barn. Wyatt stepped into the feed room and closed the door.

Minutes later we all emerged, packed and dressed. Our spare clothes we stuffed back into our packs in case of an emergency.

"Wow, we look good," Sabrina said to me, turning me around to inspect my clothing. "You're very Joan of Arc right now."

"Thanks. You, you're much more Arwen I'd say."

"Yes, but less ditsy."

"Exactly."

"And you're not as possessed as Joan of Arc."

"Oh, you're too kind."

"Hey, Jess?" she called as I started for the door.

"Yeah?"

"If we do meet the Fellowship, which would be awesome, do you think Wyatt would begrudge me a snog with Aragorn?"

A grinned and left the room.

Wyatt came out shortly thereafter, adjusting the rigging for his bow. "Wow," he said. "I'm dead, and you're gorgeous."

"One out of two isn't bad," Sabrina said dryly from behind me. Wyatt gave her the once-over, and then a twice-over. "That's it, I really am dead."

"Let's just go," she said, laughing as Wyatt pretended to die on the stall floor.

I crossed to the three horses and quickly tied blindfolds securely over their eyes. I didn't want them to be unnecessarily frightened by the jump.

"That's important to do, or the horses will freak. Alright, we're on our way. Okay, everyone, mount up," I said, taking Challenger's reins and vaulting into the saddle. Sabrina and Wyatt were mounted seconds later. "Alright?"

"Let's do this."

"Definitely."

"Okay, then, everyone close your eyes. On my mark. Three, two, one...."

As always, I felt the air around me begin to quiver, felt a pull in the pit of my stomach. Beneath me, Challenger tossed his head. This was his first time traveling this way, after all.

The familiar feeling of falling came over us, as usual, and Black Magic whinnied loudly.

And then it was over.

"Okay, everyone," I said. "Open up, we've arrived.. . . ."