- Text Size +
Story Notes:
I'd always wondered why it was always girls falling into Middle-earth, so I decided on something a little different.

Warnings: Since this is War of the Ring-era Arda, there's gonna be violence. But, I that's the only warning. Excpet that it's a Tenth Walker...but that won't bother anyone, will it?
Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the RIngs, since obviosly, I am neither a man nor dead. No offense to any dead men reading this...
“What devilry is this?” Timaios asked himself. He remembered dying – the one thing in life he had always felt certain of. Yes, he remembered dying quite clearly, but now he stood, very much alive, in an unfamiliar forest. Had the gods given him another chance at life? No, that was impossible. Hades never once gave up that which was rightfully his.

He heard a sound behind him, and he drew his bronze sword. There it was again – a snapping sound, like pinchers snapping closed. He waited long minutes for his unseen adversary – for he had deemed whatever it was an enemy, for an ally would come to his aid instead of lurking in the shadows of the dark forest – to approach.

The being that came out of the brush would haunt Timaios’ dreams for long into the future.

It appeared to be a spider, but Timaios’ mind told him that no spider could possibly grow to that monstrous size. It was at least as tall as he was and twice as wide. For all of his courage in battle, Timaios was rooted to the ground in horror and fear, emotions he had not felt for years.

The monster lumbered closer on impossibly spindly legs that looked like they could not hold up a body of that size. Timaios’ courage returned to him abruptly, and he lunged at the spider, slashing at its many eyes. The spider hissed and recoiled from the warrior.

The spider hissed again. It was one of those Elves, coming to get her. Well, she was hungry, and this Elf looked good to eat. She eyed him warily. Yes, this one was a fighter – and that was how she liked them.

Driven by hunger, the spider darted toward what she thought was an Elf. Timaios dodged the huge body and narrowly escaped its stinger.

Suddenly the spider turned and lumbered back into the woods. Yes, she was hungry, but not hungry to face the sharp arrows of the Elves. She would find something else to feast on.

Timaios turned to see what had made the spider flee. Another man, tall and broad-shouldered, stood near him, an arrow still nocked to his intricately carved bow. He said something Timaios didn’t understand, then something in a language Timaios did understand – Latin. Or rather, a simplified version of it.

“Who are you, and why are you here alone?” the man asked.

Timaios thought this very rude, for Greeks – and Trojans, for that matter – treated guests with respect, then asked their name and business. But Timaios figured he wasn’t in Arcadia anymore, so he ignored it.

“My name is Timaios of Phthia. I am a soldier in my Lord Achilles’ army. I am here – wherever here is – because...” Here words failed Timaios. Did he tell the stranger that he had died in battle, only to find himself alive in a different place?

He studied the stranger – for the man had still not given Timaios his name – closely. He had long blond hair that fell well past his shoulder blades and was held away from his face by intricate braids. His green eyes studied Timaios warily, as if calculating the Greek’s intentions. His clothing consisted of a tunic, leggings, and a cloak, all in varying shades of brown and green. The man held himself proudly – like royalty. His stance reminded Timaios of Achilles.

“Welcome, Timaios of Phthia, to Greenwood. Though, perhaps you already knew that, seeing as you travelled to the forest that most men call Mirkwood. I am Legolas.” Here Legolas narrowed his eyes. “You do not seem to be a servant of the darkness, but I cannot be sure of strangers. You will come with us to the King’s halls.”

Only then did Timaios notice the other men, hidden in the shadows. With their dark hair and green and brown garb, they blended in perfectly with their surroundings. Timaios nodded, for Legolas seemed to be looking for some kind of response to his order.

Timaios followed Legolas deeper into the dark woods, unsure of how he should present himself to the King of this land. He was only one soldier among many. He had never met any king or lord – including Achilles – personally.

“You never finished your statement,” Legolas said after some time of silence. “How did you come to be in Greenwood alone? For now our forest is a dangerous place to be.”

Timaios drew himself from his musings. What would he tell this man? “As I stated before, I am a soldier in Lord Achilles’ army. For seven years we have besieged the walls of Troy to no avail. King Menelaus will not retreat – he has insisted that we have to reclaim what the Trojans took from us.”

“Who are Trojans?” Legolas questioned, confusion creasing his pale brow.

“Those of Troy? Ilium?” Timaios was surprised that Legolas had never heard of Troy.

Legolas shook his head. “I have never heard of such places.”

“Surely, though, you have heard of Greece?” Timaios asked, unsure of what he would do if the other had not.

“I am afraid I have not,” Legolas murmured.

Timaios stared at Legolas in disbelief. He had never even heard of Timaios’ homeland?

“We have much to learn about each other, Timaios of Phthia,” Legolas said. He glanced up when another of the green-clad men called to him in that language that Timaios did not understand. Legolas turned to him with a wide smile.

“We are almost upon my father’s – I mean the King’s halls. Hurry, we will be there soon.”

Timaios caught Legolas’ slip. So, he is a prince, he mused. Then why is he dressed as one of his soldiers?
Chapter End Notes:
If I get any reviews I might post the next chapter...
You must login (register) to review.