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Chapter Text

The very first thing that Lizzie was aware of was the glow of fire and the sound of screams. Her mind swam sickeningly as she tried to right herself, get her bearings - get any idea of what was happening to her. As her vision cleared she could see she was in some type of crumbling stone ruin. Boulders of great size ringed the open flat space she was in; their smaller cast offs cut sharply into the meat of her palms as she attempted to get her feet under her.

Clashing metal drew her attention to the far side of whatever hellish castle she was in. Cloaked figures wielded wickedly sharp looking swords in battle with an older bearded man. The night seemed to warp around the cloaked figures as if their own darkness was some horrid magnet. Armed with only a wooden staff, the man shouted something in a language Lizzie could not understand.

A great wall of fire rushed from the man’s wooden staff. Its heat and light left colorful, painful bursts in Lizzie’s vision. It seemed to be equally repelling to the cloaked figures. With one last unworldly scream, they fled the ruins. 

“Hello?” Lizzie’s voice cracked as she called out to the man. Fear, which had been previously kept in check by sheer surprise, rushed in. She felt very much like a child lost from their parents in a sea of strangers. Before she could continue, the man whirled around in a flash of dingy gray robes. 

“Who are you? By what means did you come here?” He strode towards her furiously, brandishing his staff like a weapon. Lizzie had no doubt that it was, based on his earlier display. 

“Elizabeth - Lizzie - Clark!” She said, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. Who knew what this staff-wielding man could do to her if he had defeated those other beings. “And I don’t know! The last thing I remember was hiking!”

Lizzie had been hiking in a canyon before she had woken up in this harrowing place. The astringent smell of Eucalyptus trees and crunch of rocks underfoot had been a balm to her anxious mind. How such an idyllic moment had turned into such a horrific nightmare.

The man’s eyes scanned her face, his great bushy eyebrows furrowing as if he was trying to unravel some great puzzle. He seemed to find whatever answer he was looking for after a brief moment. Before Lizzie could ask any of the hundreds of questions that were plaguing her, he turned away. A long, low whistle cut through the night air. 

A white horse emerged from the forest that lay at the bottom of the hill. Its coat seemed to glow against the darkness of the night. Once it had reached the man, he swung himself up into the saddle without delay.

“Come. We have precious time to waste and a long way to travel.” He said, brooking no protest. He held out a hand for Lizzie, clearly expecting her to follow. 

“I can’t come with you!” Lizzie took a step back as she said this. “I don’t know you! Or how to ride a horse.”

Her excuses sounded weak even to her own ears. 

“I am Gandalf the Gray. Shadowfax means you no harm.” He said in an exasperated tone; Lizzie sensed this was someone who was not used to being questioned. “Now if you value your life, you will come with me.” 

A shrill scream cried out in the distance. This was all the prompting that Lizzie needed. She quickly scrambled into the saddle behind Gandalf. Shadowfax was quickly spurred into motion and the desolate hilltop was left behind to the night.

The next days went by in a nauseating blur for Lizzie. Gandalf guided Shadowfax through seemingly endless fields and forests. Only the darkening of the sky and infrequent rests gave Lizzie any indication of the passage of time. Any attempt at conversation was met by stubborn silence. 

It was during the first rest of their journey that Lizzie finally demanded answers. What was already a frightening situation was swiftly spiraling entirely out of her control. Daylight was beginning to creep over the distant trees. She had already been gone for a whole day; Lizzie could only imagine the panic her family must be going through. 

“Where am I?” Lizzie asked between greedy sips from a waterskin. “This is nothing like California.” 

As much as Lizzie dreaded the answer to her question, she needed to know. 

“You’re in Middle Earth. More precisely, the wilds outside of Imladris.” Gandalf spared her a sympathetic look. “I do not know of this California you speak of, but I have a feeling you’re from a place altogether different from any that I know.”

Panic plunged an icy fist into Lizzie’s chest. This confirmed the worst of her fears. She was a long way away from her home. While she was inclined to believe Gandalf was lying, the foreign trees and nature that surrounded her affirmed the truth in his statement. Lizzie was no longer in California. The air in her lungs exhaled in an involuntary, distraught exhale. 

“I want to go home.” She said, her whispered words sounding like those of a lost child. Gandalf gave her another sympathetic look before tapping out his pipe. 

“I know. But we have little time to spare and much distance to cover.” 

Feeling very much like a piece of luggage, Lizzie was once again ushered back onto Shadowfax’s saddle. The world narrowed to the feel of Shadowfax under her and the green blur of the passing forest. It was hard to tell how long they rode or how far they traveled. 

It wasn’t until a clear voice broke through the monotony that Lizzie became fully aware of her surroundings. 

“ Mae govannen! ”

Chapter Text

What was possibly the most beautiful person Lizzie had ever seen galloped through the trees. Long, dark hair whipped behind them as they approached. They swiftly dismounted and began conversing with Gandalf in a foreign language Lizzie couldn’t make sense of. 

She took the opportunity to subtly observe this new traveler, peeking out from behind Gandalf. Never in her life had Lizzie seen anyone as otherworldly. Their skin had a clarity to it that reminded her of still, clear water and they held themselves with a grace that Lizzie could only envy. It was then that Lizzie noticed a set of pointed ears poking out of the newcomer’s dark hair. The unease Lizzie felt previously only multiplied at the sight; any doubts she had that she had far from home were now firmly laid to rest. 

“Elrohir will escort us the rest of the way to Imladris.” Gandalf urged Shadowfax on as he said this. 

As they rode, trees gave way to narrow trails winding down steep, rocky hills. A wide gorge expanded before them and, in the distance, Lizzie could hear the roar of a great river. Once they rode further Lizzie could see buildings nestled into the very edge of the gorge. Even from a distance, Lizzie could see the overt beauty of the small city; light, airy buildings seemed to merge with the nature around it and trees seamlessly intertwined with the architecture. 

It was only a short time before they entered the city. Lizzie was quickly beckoned away from Shadowfax by yet another startling beautiful individual. She was given no time to consider her new circumstances before Gandalf was leading her away once more. 

“Where are we? Is this Ilamdris?” Lizzie questioned as she let Gandalf guide her through the strange city. 

“Imladris. Called Rivendell in the Common Tongue,” was the only response Gandalf spared Lizzie. It wasn’t until they had reached a large, ornate door that he offered any more explanation. “We must see Lord Elrond. He protects these lands and has much information at his disposal. ” 

As if on cue, a stately voice called for them to enter from behind the door. 

“I see Elrohir was able to track you without incident, Gandalf. And this must be the visitor he spoke of,” an eyebrow rose as he said this. For the second time in nearly as many days, Lizzie felt herself being evaluated. For what- she couldn’t say. 

“I found her at Amon Sûl. Shortly after I was set upon by nine black riders.” Yet another significant look passed between Gandalf and Elrond. These black riders must be the creatures from the hilltop; Lizzie shuddered at the thought- the black, icy feeling of the creatures still fresh in her mind. 

“Tell me- how did you come to be here?” Elrond said.

That damned question. The one everyone was asking Lizzie and she had no answers for. 

“I don’t know. One minute I was hiking and then I woke up here. Wherever here is.” Lizzie roughly ran a hand through her already knotted hair in exasperation as she said this. She could tell that this answer was not going to satisfy either Elrond or Gandalf.  “I truly don’t remember anything. I was in California and then I wasn’t. Please- what the hell is happening to me?” 

“It seems like you are from a place far from here. Where - I cannot say.” Elrond said. “This is Rivendell, one of the last strongholds of my people.”

“Your people?” Lizzie asked uncertainly. It was plain to see that neither Elrond nor anyone else she had met in this new place was human; but what they were still eluded her. 

“Rivendell is home to the last remains of the Ñoldor,” Elrond came from behind his desk and gestured for Lizzie to sit in one of the two chairs in the room before taking the other. As if seeing her confusion he continued. “We are of the Elven race.”

“Oh.” Lizzie’s voice sounded weak even to her own ears. She couldn’t bring herself to say anymore. What could she possibly say? 

“It is quite lucky that you arrived so close to Rivendell. Any further and the ringwraiths would have most certainly found you.” Gandalf said. Lizzie didn’t relish the thought of falling prey to those black creatures. 

“Indeed. I do not find it coincidental that you have come to Middle Earth as we stand on the brink of ruin.” Elrond looked at her quizzically once more. “You may play a large role in the coming days.”

“I just want to go home. Gandalf said you were wise. You must know how to send me back.” Lizzie pleaded, desperately looking between Gandalf and Elrond. She clung to them despite having just met them; they were the only people she knew in this frightening new place.

“I do not know. Researching this will require time.” Elrond said, clearly trying to be sensitive to Lizzie’s swiftly rising panic. “No answers will be found tonight. Go rest and I will call for you once I have more answers.” 

Lizzie nodded numbly. The gravity of her tenuous position settled onto her shoulders with leaden weight. She hardly noticed Elrond leaving the room and calling out in his strange language. 

After a moment yet another elf came to escort Lizzie to her room. Her gritty, weighted eyes struggled to remain open and were only partially aware of the halls and rooms she passed through. The room she was brought to was airy and spoke of comfort. Lizzie only dimly heard her escort tell her to ask if she needed anything before she stumbled to the large bed in the center of the room.

Gloriously soft sheets and a downy pillow greeted her. Lizzie spared a thought regretting how much dirt and debris she was dragging into the bedding before her eyes closed and she gave in to the call of sleep.

Lizzie’s room was brightly lit by midday sun by the time she woke up. She reluctantly left her bed and made her way to the large windows that dominated the far wall. A sweeping view of a forested valley and scattered waterfalls greeted Lizzie; the beauty of Rivendell wasn’t lost on her, despite the less-than-ideal circumstances that had brought her to the city. 

The view was a stark reminder that she did not belong in this beautiful place. Nowhere had she ever seen a land like this. Harsh, scrappy brush and ever-growing cityscapes made up her home. Such untouched nature was foreign to her. 

Her painfully dry throat forced Lizzie to break away from the window. A quick search of the room yielded the discovery of an attached washroom of sorts. While there was no tub or faucets of any kind, Lizzie was immensely grateful for the pitcher of water and rags she found. A brisk scrub down of her body made Lizzie feel much more awake and personable. Another search of the room’s wardrobe gave Lizzie a pair of soft trousers and a tunic to replace her dirty, torn clothes. 

Hunger was ultimately what drove her out of her room. The growling of her stomach sounded very loud in the quiet halls of Rivendell. While she didn’t know much about elves, Lizzie figured that they must eat and a kitchen would have to be located somewhere in the city. 

After searching for some time, Lizzie was starting to doubt if Rivendell did have a kitchen. With her luck, she would have to forage for food out in the forest in order to feed herself. 

Soft footsteps further down the hallway caught Lizzie’s attention. She sped up, hoping that whoever it was that was ahead of her would know their way around the city. Rounding the corner brought her into view of a tall, regal figure. She called out as she approached the elf woman. 

“Excuse me, but I was hoping you could tell me where the kitchens are or where I could get some food.” 

The elf turned and Lizzie was immediately struck by her beauty. Long, dark tresses tumbled around her shoulder and framed deep blue eyes. Her skin had a glow that Lizzie had never seen before. A small yet kind smile graced her face. 

“The kitchens lie in the western hall. It is some time before the evening meal, but the chefs will be able to prepare you something.” The elf said before moving to continue down the hallway. “Come, I will show you.”

“I’m Lizzie. I’m sorry to be bothering you like this. I just can’t seem to find my way around this place.” Lizzie prattled as she walked with her new companion. She tried in vain to take in all of her new surroundings. 

“I know who you are. You are father’s newest guest- Elizabeth.” Lizzie didn’t bother to correct Arwen on her preferred nickname. She reexamined her companion and noted that both she and Lord Elrond shared the same dark tresses and proud features. “I am Arwen.”

The two continued their way through Rivendell, making idle conversation. Lizzie found that she enjoyed the soft-spoken elf. Several minutes later, her attention was pulled away from the conversation by a striking tapestry. 

A great battle was depicted. What she presumed were elves fought against a dark army. Though it was only made of thread, Lizzie could nearly feel the fervor of battle as she looked at the tapestry.

“The Last Alliance. They marched upon Mount Doom to defeat the troops of Sauron,” Arwen said. Lizzie didn’t know who Sauron was, but from the way their name was spoken she could tell they were someone to be frightened of. 

“Did they win?” Lizzie asked, still scanning the tapestry. The dark mountain that dominated the background of the tapestry seemed to swallow the elven troops that surrounded it. 

“Yes, but at a great cost. Many of my kind sailed for the West after.” Arwen said, a somber expression overtaking her face. “Sauron’s dark magic still taints Middle Earth despite this.”

“It seems a shame for so many people to die in vain,” Lizzie said. “For anyone to die that way is tragic.”

Arwen only nodded before turning away to walk further down the hallway. Lizzie followed. After several minutes they approached a large door; the warm smell of baking bread wafted through the air. 

“Here are the kitchens,” Arwen said, granting Lizzie one last kind smile. The elf turned to leave but then hesitated before speaking again. “Rivendell is a place of tranquility and healing. I hope you find the answers you seek here.”

Lizzie took a deep breath and nodded. She could only hold onto the same hope for herself.