An unexpected journey to middle earth.
Part one
The company x female!reader
Summary: in which the fourth wall literally breaks, and you find yourself trading your sweatpants for elven suede and a quest for a mountain.
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The lights were dimmed, a bowl of popcorn was balanced precariously on your lap, and the familiar, sweeping violins of Howard Shore’s score filled your room. On the screen, the lush greens of the Shire were radiating a warmth that felt almost tangible.
You leaned forward, squinting. Right in the middle of a beautiful shot of Bag End, a stubborn, grey speck of dust sat mocked you. It was ruining the immersion.
“Seriously” you muttered.
Without thinking, you reached out, extending your index finger to flick the particle away.
As soon as your skin brushed the glass, the surface didn’t feel cold or hard. It felt like liquid light.
A sudden, violent tug centered in your chest pulled you forward. The room behind you dissolved into a blur of spinning shadows, and the sound of your air conditioner was replaced by the deafening rush of wind and the scent of damp earth and pine needles.
You hit the ground with a soft thud, the impact cushioned by a thick carpet of moss. Your head throbbed with a rhythmic pulse, and you squeezed your eyes shut against the sudden, blinding brightness of the sun.
"Ow," you muttered, reaching up to rub your temple.
Your hand froze. Instead of the familiar curve of your ear, your fingers brushed against something long, smooth, and sharply pointed. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you felt higher. Your hair, which had been in a messy bun moments ago, now fell down your back in a heavy, silken river of tresses that reached your waist.
You scrambled to your feet, your movements feeling strangely graceful—almost liquid. Gone were your sweatpants and oversized tee. In their place, you wore a tunic of deep moss-green suede, cinched with a leather belt embossed with leaf patterns, and sturdy, knee-high boots that felt lighter than air.
"A bit late for a stroll in the woods, isn't it? Or perhaps just a bit early for the party."
The voice was like rolling thunder tempered by age. You spun around, your new, heightened senses picking up the rustle of fabric before you even saw him.
Standing a few yards away, leaning on a gnarled wooden staff, was Gandalf the Grey. He was exactly as you remembered from the screen—the pointed hat, the silver scarf, and eyes that twinkled with a terrifying amount of intelligence.
"I... I..." You stumbled over your words, your tongue feeling heavy. You looked at your hands—pale, elegant, and steady, despite the panic rising in your throat.
Gandalf tilted his head, his bushy eyebrows knitting together. "You have the look of the Woodland Realm about you, yet there is a flicker in your eyes I haven't seen in an Elf for many an age. Tell me, dear girl, where did you spring from? You aren't on my map."
You looked back at the space where you had fallen, but there was no screen, no dust, no bedroom. Just the rolling hills of the Shire behind him. You couldn't tell him about the "movie" or the "TV." How could you explain a world of glass and electricity to a wizard?
"I'm not from around here," you managed to say, your voice sounding clearer and more melodic than it ever had before. "I... I come from another place. Another... world."
Gandalf took a long pull from his pipe, blowing a smoke ring that drifted lazily toward you. He watched you for a long moment, his gaze piercing, as if he could see the very atoms of your soul that didn't quite belong to Middle-earth.
"Another world?" he echoed softly. "The music of the Ainur is vast, and many themes are played that we do not yet understand." He stepped closer, the hem of his grey robes brushing the grass. "You find yourself in a strange time to be a wanderer, especially one who falls from the sky with the ears of a Wood-elf and the confusion of a newborn lamb."
He offered a small, knowing smile.
"Well then. Since you are here, and since I am currently in need of someone with a sharp eye and—I suspect—a very interesting story, perhaps you would care to walk with me? There is a hobbit nearby who is about to have a very stressful evening, and I think a bit of Elven company might do us all some good."
You looked at the path leading toward Bag End, then back at your pointed ears. You didn't have a remote to turn this off, and honestly? You didn't want one.
"I suppose I don't have much of a choice," you said, finding your courage.
"My dear," Gandalf chuckled, turning to lead the way, "none of us truly do when the world decides to move beneath our feet."
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Here we are folks the first chapter of my fanfic inspired by the three hobbit movies.
I really hope you guys like it!
