Okay guys this is my first fanfic, so while it may not be amazing, it will get better over time. Thanks for reading this, and I would really appreciate it if you leave a review on this, tell me what to write/ do, etc. If you guys don't understand the first part, don't worry, it'll make more sense at the end. So, enough with this, have a good day, and read on!

Disclaimer: I own nothing- neither PJO or LOTR

UPDATED (MAJOR) FEB. 7, 2018

In the beginning there was naught but the void and the One.

For He was, and He is.

And He, deeming this emptiness to be lacking the perfection He desired, created the Ainur, known also as the Valar, from the Flame Imperishable within Himself, and they were good.

Then He set forth unto them a great music, that which they themselves began to weave alone or in pairs. But this music was lesser than the great harmony woven by the One, for they were not all partial to the Beauty He would weave. Soon, as the Ainur became more understanding of the One's plan, they began to weave the Music in greater numbers, with more harmony and beauty.

The time came when the One, known among the creatures of Arda in the future as Ilúvatar yet known among the Ainur as Eru, declared to the Ainur a mighty theme: in it was revealed Eru Ilúvatar's plan for creation, with a glorious creation and its splendorous end. After beholding this magnificence, the Ainur fell silent and bowed before the One in awe.

The He spoke, willing that they together create their own Music, a Great Music that would fashion the theme of Ilúvatar by their own accord. And He was glad, content to hearken and behold the beauty that the Ainur would create using the Flame Imperishable kindled within them and bestowed upon them by Himself.

But Melkor, greatest among the Ainur, sought to create by his own accord; he did not wish to abide by the will and theme of the One. Often he ventured into the Void seeking the Flame Imperishable so that he might create as Ilúvatar had created the Ainur, but he never found It for the Flame resided with the One.

As the Ainur continued to weave the Great Music as Eru Ilúvatar willed, Melkor rose up in rebellion. He wove into the Music his discord and violence and his theme rose in uproar against the Ainur until they grew dismayed and sang no longer. Then Melkor had the mastery of the Music and clashed against Ilúvatar until He rose with a face terrible to behold. With a single note, deeper than the abyss and higher than the firmament, He silenced Melkor and rebuked him. Then leading the Ainur to the Void, He displayed to them what the Music had created: Eä, the World that is. But the world was not as the Music had made it, for the Music had only shown what it could become in time.

Then beholding the Beauty wrought by the will of Ilúvatar, the greatest and fairest of the Ainur departed for this world, to shape it according to the Great Music and make it beautiful. Among these Ainur was Manwë Súlimo. Manwë knew the mind of Ilúvatar more than any other and therefore knew His plan for the world most closely; he was second in power only to Melkor, who entered the World for his hidden desire to conquer it and make himself Ruler.

It was this strife that shaped Eä for the whole of its existence, for the discord Melkor wrought into the Music became heats and fire without restraints and evil that Melkor used to poison the minds of others. For eons, the Valar worked to bring the World to the perfection it had been seen to be in the great music, and for eons Melkor sought to subtly oppose them. This opposition changed to War as incomprehensible time passed, for Melkor subdued many lesser Beings to his side and convinced weaker Ainur to bow to him. Together they hated the Beauty of the World that the Valar had created and destroyed it time after time.

Eventually, the Children of Ilúvatar were awoken by the One on the shores of the Bay of Cuiviénen. These were the High Elves, the Eldar, and it was these beautiful beings that the Valar cherished more than any other of the creations of Ilúvatar, for the Flame Imperishable burned inside them yet. Three Ages after the elves were awakened, so too were Men, the Edain, awakened.

Other beings were created also. These were not created by Ilúvatar, but rather accepted by him. Though made against his will, he was loving and merciful and allowed them their own space in the Great Music. Chief among these were the dwarves, created by the Valar Aulё out of stone before the elves awakened.

Throughout time, the land was broken and changed in the war against Melkor. Mountains were created and razed, seas were formed and dried, and the foundations of the world shook with the fury of the struggle. At last, the Valar withdrew from Arda, leaving it to the will of Melkor for they could no longer bear the pain of him marring the beauty they had made. They created the vast sundering sea Belegaer to separate Arda from their new home of Aman and raised the Pelóri Mountains as a wall against the darkness in the East.

When it was discovered that the Elves had awakened, the Valar waged a terrible war against Melkor to protect the Children of Ilúvatar. They destroyed his fortress of Utumno, binding Melkor in an unbreakable chain and taking him back to Aman for judgement. Utumno they razed to the ground, though in their haste they did not explore all of its deep and dark pits. There resided his chief servant Sauron and his legions of Balrogs, who later fled to Angband, waiting there for their Master's return.

Many of the Elves were brought to Aman, and there was rejoicing among the Valar as part of the Great Music came to fruition. As ages passed, Melkor was released from his prison in the Halls of Mandos and allowed to wander Aman, for he had feigned his newfound goodness and Manwё believed him, having no evil or comprehension of it in himself. Melkor soon wronged the greatest of the elves, killing their king and stealing their greatest possession: the silmarils, while also destroying the greatest beauty in Aman. As he escaped to Angband in Arda, the elves pursued him, causing a war that caused much suffering over many centuries. At the end, Melkor, now called Morgoth, was hauled in chains to Aman and his soul separated from his body before being imprisoned in the Halls of Night for all eternity.

Until the Final Battle, when he is released and the Battle for Eä ultimately finished…

It was then that peace was restored for a time, and Numenor was created for the Edain as a home during the Golden Age of Man. But Sauron poisoned the minds of the Numenoreans, leading to their downfall and his rule over Arda, now called Middle-Earth. The remnant of the Numenoreans, those under Elendil who remained faithful to the Valar, established their kingdom in Middle Earth. Allied with the remnant of the High Elves under Gil-Galad, they battled Sauron and defeated him utterly, though his Spirit was not destroyed. Peace reigned in Middle Earth then, more or less, as servants of Sauron sought to establish kingdoms north in Angmar and East at Dol Guldur. They fell to men and elves in time; but Sauron sought to rise again, knowing that both elves and men were greatly diminished from their greatness milennia previously, and it was now that his shadow threatened to destroy the Free Peoples of Middle Earth…

High above Aman atop Mount Taniquetil, Manwë Súlimo, Lord of the air and skies, looked out over the world. He was cloaked in blue robes, and he wielded his sapphire scepter. By his side was his wife Varda, queen of the heavens. With her by his side, he could look out to the furthest reaches of the world and hear every sound. Manwë stopped and looked at his scepter, crafted for him by the Ñoldor.

Ah… the Ñoldor. The most ingenious of the elves ever to walk upon the Earth. Friends of the Vala Aulë they were, and from him they learned their craft. Everything was bliss in Aman in that time, Manwë remembered, until Feanor crafted the silmarils.

Feanor, undoubtedly the greatest of the Eldar ever to live. Feanor, he whose skills surpassed even Aulë's. Feanor, whose work was rivaled by no one. Manwe grieved, remembering the death of Finwë the father of Feanor and the theft of the silmarils by Morgoth. It was in response to this grave injustice that Feanor took the Ñoldor upon his foolhardy conquest to Middle Earth to reclaim the silmarils and exact revenge upon Morgoth, but he himself lost his life in the process. After five hundred years of bloody fighting and thousands of noble elves killed, only one silmaril was reclaimed, and that was now housed in the sky with the mariner Eärendil.

Countless lives lost… Some of the greatest ever to live died in that war. Feanor, Finrod, Hurin, Turin, Berin…. The grief was still too fresh. After the war, many of the Ñoldor came back to Aman, and for the Edain, the faithful men, Numenor was risen in the sea for them一the land of gift. Yet after Morgoth's capture and 'death', his servant Sauron sought to further his master's conquest. Sauron brought about the destruction of that great civilization of Numenor, and hundreds of thousands of the Edain were killed in the tumult. Now, Numenorean blood is rarely seen in Gondor and in the north, and but a strain of the Edain blood resides in Rohan.

Then Sauron was defeated by Isildur and a great army of elves and men一the Last Alliance一and Manwë hoped that would lead to peace, but once again he was mistaken and saddened. Isildur failed to destroy the Ring, and Sauron was never destroyed. His servant Angmar waged a war in the north, and the last of Numenorean blood was all but destroyed, and the line of kings ended for a long while.

And thus the grieves of Morgoth came to fruition, and since the beginning of days, there has been no peace in the world, and there shall be none until after the Great War to end all days.

Sauron had arisen again, this much Manwë knew. He had arisen sixty years ago and raised an army in the south of Greenwood. Sauron, however, was dispelled by the White Council: wise Elrond, fair Galadriel, Curunir一also known as Saruman to the men of Middle Earth, and his own Maiar Olorin, known also as Gandalf. Manwë realized that Sauron was not destroyed by the White Council; he was only hindered. Sauron would rise again, and when he did, he would return to Mordor.

At this thought, Manwë once again turned his gaze to Mordor; he had been inspecting it much of late. He saw the same sight he had seen whenever he searched there一a shadow on the ash-covered, rocky plain of Mordor, nothing else. Something seemed different though; this was not ordinary. For when he sought to glance through this shadow, he was blocked. Never was his gaze hindered before, nor should it be hindered now. Manwë knew that Sauron was a unfathomably skilled sorcerer, but never had he imagined that the Dark Maiar would be powerful enough in his weakened state now to disguise the whole of Mordor with his powers. Manwë now perceived that all this was an illusion; a dark shroud created by Sauron to hinder all unwelcome eyes.

Manwë mustered his power and tried to pierce the shroud, but Sauron had been well trained by Morgoth in the dark arts. The magic that went into creating the shadow had been subtly layered over many centuries; Manwë could not pierce this shroud of darkness on his own.

Breaking out of his trance, he took Varda by the hand. "My wife, something stirs in Mordor, something evil beyond measure. This will not bode well for the people of Middle Earth."

"Husband, what stirs in Mordor?"

"That is hidden from my sight, clouded through dark magic, and it is for that I call for thine aid. I fear Sauron hath shrouded my vision, and that shadow I cannot pierce. Join with me, Varda; lend me thy power, and I shall pierce that shadow. For it was thee Morgoth feared above all of the Ainur; Sauron can not withstand thee either."

Then Varda joined with Manwë; and being filled with power, Manwë turned his gaze to the shadow, wrestled with the dark magic, subdued it, and utterly vanquished the shadow一breaking the dark magic that had been resilient for centuries.

And in Mordor, in Barad-dûr, a dark figure was cast across the chamber, so much of his power leaving him in an instant. He knew at that moment that his plans were no longer secret; and since secrecy was no longer with him, he knew he must act now. That which he had planned for millennia since his defeat to the Last Alliance behind Elendil and Gil-Galad must begin now. He had suffered minor defeats with the fall of Angmar and his banishment from Dol-Guldur, but this time he would not fail. Gondor, Rohan, Lothlorien, Mirkwood, Rivendell一all would fall to him. Now was the time to begin his fight.

Manwë uttered a cry at what he saw. He saw a vast army, hundreds of thousands strong, preparing for war. He saw armor and weapons being forged, and he saw soldiers being trained. Manwë beheld all the orcs, and was filled with rage. The orc was first created when Morgoth, ever seeking to defile what is good, captured the Eldar, the purest, most noble creature to be created by Eru, and turned them into the vile abomination of an orc. This deed alone was the one held most vile by Eru Ilúvatar, the Creator. Worst of all that he saw, though, was Barad-Dûr standing, and the Eye of Sauron inspecting the rocky surface of Mordor.

So, Sauron was back in full power, and he wanted to claim all of Middle Earth. Manwë beheld all this and was grieved. He thought of the countless millennia of toil and woe to create all that is good in this land. Sauron sought to defile all of that as his master had done.

Manwë had only one option. Middle Earth needed help. They were greatly outnumbered, and Mordor was unassailable with what forces they had. Doing so would accomplish nothing, and Sauron had put forth part of his spirit into the One Ring. The only course of action would be to destroy the Ring. Manwë knew he must send help. He wouldn't send an elf, however一this war needed to be won by men, not elves. He would send them a champion.

"Eonwë!" Manwë called to his herald, "Bring me Irmo! Quick!"

Ω Ω Ω

When Irmo, Vala of dreams and desire arrived at Taniquetil, he was quickly ushered to Manwë by the herald Eonwë. Irmo, known also as Lórien (as was his dwelling place in Aman) could feel the seriousness of the situation, for rarely was he summoned alone and never in this manner.

"My Lord Manwë, what is awry in Arda? What is the cause of my summoning?" asked a perplexed Irmo.

The Vala stood resolute, his piercing eyes gazing out over the entirety of the world. For several heartbeats he said nothing. Then he turned his sight from the world and met Irmo's gaze. "Sauron rises in Arda一even now he works to conquer Middle Earth. We must send aid."

"But my Lord Manwë, of what assistance can I be? A warrior I am not. It would be better to ask Tulkas or Oromë on matters like this." Suddenly his face shifted and his eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "But thou art not asking me to grapple with Sauron, if I perceive correctly?"

"Nay, Irmo, we may not interfere directly in this matter; Eru hath decreed it."

The Valar lowered his chin in a single nod. "Why not send one of the Ñoldor or Vanyar? Many would be honored to help the inhabitants of Middle Earth." Then he raised his eyes to Manwë once more. "Finrod fought Sauron once before; he would be most apt."

Manwë sighed. "We cannot send an elf, for this is man's affair. In this conflict, it must be men who bring about peace."

"A shame," Irmo mused. "Eärendil could not be withstood by even Sauron himself, and Elrond his son is in Middle Earth. T'would be a valiant stand."

Manwë sighed. "I wish it were that easy, but I fear not. This is man's battle, and it must be won by men. Sauron's Ring must be destroyed, and we need a champion, a man, to see this matter through. That is why I called for thee, Irmo."

Irmo rested his hand on the shoulder of Manwë for but a moment; as Irmo's hand released it, he raised an eyebrow. His realm of power included dreams, visions, and desires. As such, in his brief contact with Manwë he had perceived a desire that emanated from the Vala's infinite mind. "Oh," he replied simply. "That is what thou plan on doing."

"Indeed," was the sole reply of the King of Arda.

Irmo raised an eyebrow. "That is indeed a bold strategy; it is not at all certain they shall comply."

"They shall."

"Have they not only recently finished their own war? Two wars, if such fragmented visions I have received are correct."

Manwë turned his piercing blue eyes to Irmo, letting the resolution in them be clearly seen. "The mind and will of Eru is known to me, and I shall not stray from it."

Irmo bowed. "Of course, I meant no disrespect. Shall I act now?"

"Yea, time is pressing. Contact Olympus."

Meanwhile on Olympus, a storm was brewing. Zeus had called an emergency council, upon the request of Apollo. Every Olympian was in attendance, as were Hades and Hestia. The King of the Gods himself did not know the reason for this council, for he was told to call it by his son Apollo. As Zeus looked around the room at his family, he beheld all the minor discussions going on. None of them knew that the next few minutes would change many lives; but then again, he didn't know how they would change either一he simply could feel the importance of the news Apollo bore.

After all, it was not every day the Sun God approached with a pale face and dumbstruck expression. The only words to come out of his mouth had been, "You must call a council, Father. I一"

Apollo had faltered then, before finding the words he needed to continue. And when the God of Poetry was at a loss for words, it was best to recognize the importance of matters. When he spoke again, all he could muster was, "I have news, tidings, that cannot be ignored."

Now, he looked over at his wife Hera, and she gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder before he began. He had confided in her the shock in Apollo, and he knew not whether to worry. Zeus stood up, and thunder reverberated throughout the room. All discussions ceased, and all in attendance looked up expectantly at Zeus. "Grave tidings, we have received. Or rather, grave tidings has Apollo received. It is for this reason you have been called."

He nodded at his son. "Continue," Zeus rumbled before taking his throne once again.

Apollo stood up from his throne and moved towards the center of the hall; he smiled at Hestia, but his expression was very serious, oddly. He didn't even have headphones in his ears, and his eyes were sad. "Late last night," he began, " I received a vision." He paused as if to contemplate what he was about to say.

The Olympians were drawn in by the near-pallor on Apollo's face. In their deep curiosity, they almost instinctively leaned forward slightly in anticipation, awaiting Apollo's tidings. But as breaths passed, suspense and irritation grew at the information that was not forthcoming.

"Come on Apollo, don't keep us waiting here all day; we have things to do!" complained an impatient Ares.

"Let him speak," interrupted Poseidon who was beginning to grasp the seriousness of the council. He motioned for Apollo to continue.

Apollo nodded his thanks to Poseidon and cleared his throat. "It wasn't just a vision though; it was a message, a plea." At this point all the heads in the room were turned to him and listening to him intently. He continued, "It was a message from Irmo一Manwë calls for aid; Middle Earth is in danger."

A stunned silence filled the room; all were aware of the trouble that had before confronted the Valar, but never before had their counterparts called for aid, not even during the siege of Angband so long ago. It was a confused Hermes who chose to break the silence.

"What do you mean 'Manwë calls for aid'? Does he want us to help directly? Does he ask for an army? What does he ask of us?"

Apollo paused a moment before replying. "Manwë asked for a一," he faltered, "a-a champion. We need to send him a demigod champion. Then Apollo looked sadly at his uncle, Poseidon. "It's obvious whom we need to send."

This caught Poseidon off guard, and it took him a moment for him to realize what was being said; his eyes widened when he came to that realization. "NO!" Poseidon thundered. "My son has been through enough! He has literally been to Tartarus and back! Send someone else, but my son will not go!" The room started shaking at the anger of Poseidon.

"Nah, I think it's a great idea to send that punk over," quipped Ares as he started cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his large knife.

"Maybe we should send Ares over and get some peace and quiet around here for once," an angry Artemis shot back.

"You know what? I'm gonna一,"

"ENOUGH!" roared Zeus before turning to Poseidon. "Brother, the danger facing Middle Earth must indeed by dire if the Valar have been forced to call for aid. And, though it pains me to admit it, your son is the strongest demigod and most fitting option."

Then, as the God of Thunder considered how it would feel were Thalia in Percy's place, his gaze softened ever so slightly. "They need your son, Poseidon. Will you let him go?"

Poseidon was stopped from answering when Hestia quietly made her way up to Poseidon's throne and put her hand on Poseidon's shoulder.

"Poseidon, Middle Earth needs a hero. Your son is that hero; he must go.

His voice grew low, so that none but Hestia could hear those exact words he used. "Sister, we have asked too much of him already. He deserves the chance to live his life."

"Do you not think he would accept the opportunity to help out a people who are in danger? All of Middle Earth is in danger, danger more grave than that which Kronos brought to us. Perseus has the chance to help them."

Poseidon's expression softened as he knew she was right. "Alright," he said aloud in a submissive tone, "my son shall go to Middle Earth; we'll send him directly to Manwë. And Apollo一you will tell my son all there is to know about what he's doing. He'll wake up tomorrow in Aman knowing the situation, understood?"

Poseidon said that with such authority that not only Apollo was nodding, but all the other gods and goddesses found themselves instinctively agreeing and nodding. Before he left, Poseidon turned around and said, "And, if anything happens to my son because of this, there will be consequences." And with that, the Sea God disappeared in a spurt of seawater that instantly evaporated.

Apollo seemed a bit nervous, not wanting to face these 'consequences.' He scratched the back of his neck and then seemed to revert back to his old self. He smiled cheerfully and his face regained its usual color. "Well, that went better than expected. Now toodle-oo! I have work to do."

And on that note, the council adjourned.

The Hero of Olympus stood in the surf at Camp Half-Blood, watching as the sun started to sink low over the horizon to his west. The sea glowed brilliantly as Apollo steered the sun chariot lower in the sky, as if Percy's dad had made the sea this beautiful, just for him.

His dad could do that, by the way. Not a bad trick to say for "bring-your-dad-to-school day"

Regardless, something weighed in Percy's stomach, and he wasn't sure why. He tried to push it out of his mind, using the beautiful sea to raise his spirits, but still it remained. His thoughts wandered as he stared westwards, to the point where he didn't hear the approaching steps nor the grunt of someone jumping until a force hit his back and clung to it and he staggered forward to avoid face-planting in the surf (something he had done an embarrassing amount of times).

"What the一," he started to exclaim before a few strands of golden hair in his peripheral vision caught his eye and answered all his questions.

"Admiring the sunset?" the voice asked from his back.

Percy grinned and allowed the girl to fall from his back so that she stood by his side. "So what if I am?"

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "You never just admire the sunset. What's bugging you?"

He pulled Annabeth closer to him. "I'm just… so sad… that deserving llamas can't pursue their dreams of being astronauts in this society."

She snorted and rolled her eyes before leaning the back of her head against his chest. "Only you would think to lie using 'llamas'."

Percy chuckled. "So you're not gonna buy the 'llama' bit?"

"You know, as convincing as it was…"

He lowered his head to kiss her on the temple. "But you have to admit, it is a pretty amazing sunset."

Smiling up at him, Annabeth seemingly tried to drag the answer to her question out of him with her startlingly gray eyes. "Yes it is, but you still didn't tell me what's wrong.

"It's just一" he sighed and shifted his feet. "Something doesn't feel right. Like a pit in my stomach, I don't know. It's nothing, just something dumb."

She nodded. "I'm here, your friends are here, your giant, bloodthirsty extended family is here, and we saved the world. Again." Then she looked up at him again. "I think we've finally earned some time to not worry."

His lips tilted upwards at her words. She was right… again.

Make that two hundred times in a row. Or something like that.

As he considered it, the pit started to unwind, if only a little. His smile grew a bit larger and a bit more playful.

"I guess there is one solution I can think of that might take my mind of whatever it is that's bothering me."

"And what would that be?"

With a mischievous smirk, Percy picked his girlfriend up and heaved her into the sea before she even had the chance to protest.

Annabeth rose from the waves, her eyebrows angling dangerously as a single piece of seaweed draped over the side of her face. "Perseus Jackson!" she yelled at her fleeing boyfriend who was laughing loudly as he tried to run back towards the cabins.

When the Son of Poseidon was seen sprinting around the cabins, being chased by a seemingly murderous daughter of Athena, it was not as odd an occurrence as one might believe. Some of the younger, newer campers poked their heads out of their cabins to find out what was going on but the older ones just chuckled to themselves.

"Yo Perce, hook a right!" Travis Stoll shouted from the roof of the Demeter Cabin where he was hiding some of Katie Gardener's belongings.

"Thanks, Trav!" Percy shouted back, suddenly planting his foot and turning right to throw Annabeth off his trail.

Eventually, however, Percy and Annabeth made their peace after Percy was tied to a tree (and several Hermes campers received their bribes for the act). As the sky darkened, the two could be found talking outside of the Poseidon cabin; and after a goodnight kiss, the two went to their cabins with the promise of a picnic the following evening.

When Percy did eventually fall into slumber, there were several things he expected of his dreams. What he did not expect was to turn around in some abstract dreamscape and find Apollo standing behind him.

"Yo cuz!" the Sun God shouted to Percy.

"Apollo? What are you doing in my dream?"

"Look, Perce, let me just preface what I'm about to tell you by saying I'm really, really, sorry."

Percy didn't like where this conversation was heading. "Apollo, please tell me that I'm not一Oh you son of a bi一"

And suddenly the Son of Poseidon was yanked from his world, his body disappearing from beneath his bedsheets without so much as a sound.

Hope you liked it! Please leave a review and I'll try to update as soon as possible.

UPDATE: So... yeah. This was fun. I'll probably go back through a lot of this and make things a little more polished, but I'll keep it as close to the original as I can. So thanks for going through this again!

~TheDragon12