Good morrow, dear reviewers. As promised, an epilogue.

Seems I couldn't quite say goodbye. Also, I like reviews. They make me purr like a cat. BOROMIR FOREVER!

And...a warning. I wrote a swear word. A bad one. The F word. And also I mention a form of contraception. Just be warned, kiddies.

PLAIN JANE

Epilogue

In Which Jane Tries to Go Home by Manipulating Fanfiction

A day or so after we last met Miss Thomas

She wasn't sure which books to get, so she picked them all up and dumped them on the counter, thick books, full of scholarly debate, shiny new ones promising a comprehensive guide, a couple of dictionaries, some books by the author's son and some others she wasn't sure about. Was it enough, she wondered, there was the internet, too, she supposed.

"Are these for you?" said a voice. She looked up at the bookstore clerk. His nametag said Eric and his t-shirt said he was a big fan of Tolkien – it had a picture of Gandalf with a pink beard. Poor old Gandalf, she thought, he was so touchy about his beard. He had refused to talk to her for a day after she had laughed at his beard comb, of course, Boromir had told her beard combs were actually a necessity for men…and he had helped try to persuade Gandalf to let her comb his beard. Unsuccessfully of course. Gandalf had not been keen.

"Yes," she said, tersely. Eric started scanning the books, moodily. Saruman's balls, she thought, weren't geeks supposed to be friendly? She put her hand through her hair and looked out the window, where all the people were milling about, doing their Christmas shopping.

"What's that?" asked Eric. She turned back to him, and raised her eyebrow. "At your neck?"

"It's a necklace?" she said, thinking he was quite stupid for a geek.

"That's of Elvish design!" he cried, his grumpy face transforming into one of awe and openness. "But it's not the Evenstar – all the stupid girls, I mean, all the girls wanted one like Arwen after the films came out, but yours…yours is amazing! I'm sorry I didn't mean to be rude, it's just sometimes girls come in here and laugh at us," he said, motioning over to the other bookshop employee, a huge mountain of a man, with a long beard and shiny bald head, sitting on the steps up to the next level reading a bright pink book called "Faeries: How to Catchy the Slippery Bastards".

"Don't worry about it," she said, a small smile creeping on to her lips.

"That will be forty four pounds and ninety nine pence, by the way, I host a Lord of the Rings night every Friday night, in the bookstore. I'd love it if you came! We don't have any girls, well one came once, but she said none of us look anything like Legolas and she never came back," said Eric, breathlessly.

"Um," she said. "I'll think about it." She passed over her last few notes and smiled at him. "See ya," she said, waving as she stepped out of Fantasy Fiction: Bookstore for Dreamers and into the street.

"Friday! Eight o'clock! That's tomorrow!" shouted Eric. Jane smiled again. She walked down the street, against the crowds of shoppers hastily moving towards Oxford Street with looks of panic on their faces. It was the end of December – only a few more shopping days left to go and desperation hung in the air. Jane was feeling terribly homesick – it had been one day since she had woken up in her room and listened to her roommates explain that they hadn't seen her for six months but had assumed she had gone backpacking. Incredulously, she listened as they looked at her gormlessly and slightly guiltily said they hadn't thought about calling the police.

"You didn't think it was at all suspicious that you hadn't seem me in six months?" she asked, angry and hurt.

"Well," said Sophie, biting her lip, "No, not really. My friend Amy suddenly disappeared for a year, and it turned out that she'd been in Australia, married to this man."

Jane wanted to hit her. "For the love of God, Sophie, we went to Amy's leaving party!"

"Did we?" Sophie asked, frowning. Had she always been this idiotic and forgetful, wondered Jane, looking at her aghast.

"We could hardly call the police anyway, Janie, we would have had to flush everything," said Teresa, lolling on the sofa.

"Flush what?" asked Jane, suddenly horrified. "What are you keeping here?"

Teresa and Sophie looked at each other. "Nothing," said Teresa.

"Anyway, where have you been? You owe us rent," said Sophie, suddenly a lot less vague when it came to money. Jane pondered the question for a bit.

"I've been travelling," she said, thinking it was basically the truth.

"Backpacking, I thought so. Six months rent please," said Teresa. Jane stormed into her room, slammed the door shut and started pulling her clothes and belongings onto her bed and shoving them in her trunk. She didn't have a huge amount and she didn't recognize a lot of it – it had been months since she had been out of her Rivendell leggings – mini skirts seemed very foreign to her. Pulling her jumpers down from the shelf, she discovered a large plastic packet of white powder. For a ludicrous second, she thought it was caster sugar, but then she realized that Sophie and Teresa had been hiding their drugs in her room.

They were supposed to be her friends. Long ago it seemed, they had all laughed about boyfriends, watched chick flicks and cooked together. That had clearly meant nothing to them, she realized, missing her real friends even more. She started packing again, piling up the packets of god knows what, wondering what she should do with them.

A few hours later

There was nothing left in her room apart from several sheets of paper, old magazines, posters and tissue boxes. Everything was stuffed into her old boarding school trunk – a massive old-fashioned leather trunk that was like the Tardis, bigger on the inside. Luckily it had wheels, so she could move it. She left it in the sitting room while she tore the packets open and poured them onto the kitchen table, smoothing the powder over. Careful not to inhale anything, she traced "FUCK YOU" into the powder; and placed her keys next to them. She slammed the door and hauled her trunk down the stairs, through the hall and into the sharply cold weather.

She wasn't sure where she was going to go, but checking into a hotel for tonight seemed like a good idea. Room service always helped when you were a bit depressed, homesick, heartbroken and running out of options.

She wasn't sure what people wore to a LOTR gathering, but jeans and a leather jacket was the best she could do. She felt naked walking around without her bow, or at least a knife – but she was sure she wasn't allowed to carry one around London. It was, at best, frowned upon.

"You're among your people, now!" said Eric, and gave her an awkward but enthusiastic hug. "Look everyone! I brought a girl!" Jane looked around the room. She had brought a bottle of wine, unsure of what was appropriate, and saw a table piled high with pizza boxes and candy. Maybe she had overestimated how old the people here were?

"I'm a girl," said a girl with long dark hair in two plaits, a friendly chubby face and a manga t-shirt. "Booze, excellent!" she said, "Guys, we have booze!" she shouted, to a few men sitting on chairs in the corner, that Jane hadn't seen.

"Yeah, but you don't count cos you're my sister," said Eric, giving her a friendly punch.

"I'm Jane," she said, stretching out her hand. She felt strangely nervous and weird about being here. Was it normal? Was she crazy? Had she really lived in Middle Earth for six months? Or had she gone through a mental breakdown of some sort? She didn't know how she felt about discussing her friends like they were only fictional characters, and not people she had seen sweat, bleed, laugh, cry and one in particular, that she had kissed and whose body she had pressed herself upon…

"Melissa," said the plaits. "Whose your favourite character?"

"Oh," said Jane, turning red. "Um…"

"I fancy Thorin," said Melissa, with a cheeky grin. "He's got this tortured, brooding look about him, needs a bit of love."

"Dwarf fancier," muttered Eric in disgust. "She's adopted," he told Jane. "Hopefully. This is Luke, but he prefers being called The Professor. He's doing his PhD on etymology in Tolkien's works, don't ask him about it, it's super boring, and this is Jeff, he likes swords, and Daniel, he likes Legolas, and finally Ginger, who…actually, Ginger, what's your thing?"

Ginger was a middle-aged strawberry blond man with cornflower blue eyes and a sad look. "I just hate working in an office," he said softly.

"Ah," said Jane, smiling at him. "Me too. Boromir," she said, turning back to Melissa. "Boromir is my favourite."

"Ah, he's hot, but not as hot as Thorin," said Melissa, who had taken the bottle and uncorked it. "Thorin is a sexy beast. He'd be crazy in the sack. Crazy!" She found some plastic cups and started pouring out wine and handed one to Jane.

Jane smiled shyly, and wondered what Boromir would think of being compared unfavourably to Gimli's hero. She'd have to ask him when she saw him. If he would talk to her. If she could convince Fanfiction to send her back. If she wasn't mental and hadn't made the whole thing up. That, she thought, was a lot of ifs.

Later that night

Jane logged into her Fanfiction account and uploaded her word document. She pressed publish and waited.

She crossed her arms and looked up. "Why am I looking up," she muttered to herself, "I should probably look down because Fanfiction deserves to be IN HELL." After a few seconds, she turned the kettle on and made herself a cup of tea. Oh well, a watched pot never boils, or something.

She lay on her bed, put her laptop next to her and picked up the Westron dictionary. If she was going to return, she had better use this time to pick up some useful skills. Mastering Westron, was one of them. The other, she had thought, should be basic medicine stuff – she had been googling first aid and writing notes. She flicked through the dictionary, and then back to her notes. There had been several phrases she didn't understand when she had been in Middle Earth, and several words that made no sense to her. Looking them up in the dictionary, when she could find them, helped her no end. Suddenly all the things Boromir had said to her that she hadn't understood made sense – and most of them were adjectives for "crazy", "strange" and "adorable". She realized she had wasted lot's of time with him, in denial, paranoid, ignoring him or deliberately misunderstanding him, when they could have been kissing or having hot crazy, fictional character sex. Mostly she just missed talking to him, and his smell. She held back tears. I'm on a mission, Jane, she told herself. No crying, only fighting.

Waking up in the hotel the next day, having fallen asleep with her head in the dictionary, she looked at her story…well plea on Fanfiction. Did it have any reviews, she wondered, half asleep. Did Fanfiction read itself? There was one lonely review.

FanFictionRocks - reviewed at 12:01am

No.

That's it, she thought. That's it?

She felt like throwing something against the wall, or stabbing an orc. She made herself a cup of tea to calm down. She had to find somewhere to live, and fast. Melissa had offered to put her up – something she found a little too friendly – I mean, they hardly knew each other. But she had instantly liked her, and they had chatted about dwarves for a long time – Jane had explained all about how hairy female dwarves are and how Melissa wasn't hairy enough. ("What if I stop shaving my legs?" she had slurred over the wine that she and Jane were polishing off. "Couldn't hurt!")

Maybe she would go and stay in her spare room. It would be better than staying with the drug dealers, and nothing could be worse than when she had to sleep in Moria. Although, she thought to herself, cuddling up with Boromir had made it more than bearable…

Was this hopeless? She thought, despairingly. Fanfiction had replied, though, she mused. He…it…was paying attention to her. She looked in the mirror and took a sip of tea – not quite as good as the dried tea leaves the elves had, but good enough, and looked at the necklace that was nestling between her breasts – Boromir's necklace. Boromir's mother's necklace – of Elvish design and the sole proof she wasn't crazy. She looked at her face, into her dark eyes and saw the steely resolve staring back at her. Boromir would never give up, she thought. And if I want to deserve him and win him back, I have to keep going.

She pulled up her laptop and started composing the next chapter of her letter to Fanfiction. This time, she thought, I need a different approach. Instead of swearing and writing about what she was going to do to Fanfiction if he….it….didn't send her back, she was going to flatter it's ego. She was going to extoll its virtues, write flowery poetry, a missive of love, saying that of course Fanfiction could take her back to Middle Earth – the written word was the most powerful thing in the world! Who cares about the Inland Revenue – tax issues are nothing compared to the power that Fanfiction yielded over minds?

Then she was going to call Melissa.

The next day

She looked at Melissa and Eric. "Right, yes, that does sound crazy, sorry," she said. Melissa was never going to let her stay now she had just drunkenly told her everything, how she had cursed fanfiction, how she had been dumped in Middle Earth, lumbered with Boromir, tricked into the Fellowship and then had accidentally fallen in love with Boromir and then been stabbed; the whole shebang.

She hadn't planned on telling them – but after a few glasses of wine, somehow, everything had come out.

Should she leave, she wondered, looking at them. She put down her wineglass and cleared her throat, ready to make a hasty retreat.

"Cool," said Eric.

"Cool?" she repeated. Maybe they thought she was drunkenly wittering…and maybe that was a good thing.

"I'd love to go to Hogwarts, I mean, I cried when I didn't get my letter when I was 11…"

"That's true," said Melissa, pouring Jane more wine. "He did."

"I think, if I went there, I'd have a real chance with Luna. Do you think Fanfiction will send me there too?" he asked.

"Um…one second, can we backtrack please, why exactly do you believe me?" she asked. "I mean, we met a week ago! I could be crazy!"

Eric scratched his fluffy brown hair. "Well, for starters, you have a magical necklace on," he said.

"It's not magical," she said, confused.

"Yeah it is. It glows when you talk about Boromir," Eric said. Jane reddened.

"Stop looking down her top, Eric!" admonished Melissa. That, thought Jane, was not why I'm blushing, but nevertheless, a good point.

"I'm not looking down her top!" pouted Eric. "Looking at her necklace. Mostly," he said with a cheeky grin. Jane harrumphed and Melissa hit him. "Ow. Ok and secondly, sometimes you mutter to yourself in Westron." Jane had to admit that was true. "Thirdly, you know a lot about Middle Earth, and some of the stuff you know isn't in any book I've ever read."

"I could be making it up," she said. "Cos I'm mental."

"True," said Melissa, "But I have a good feeling about you and also, I want to meet Thorin. I haven't shaved anything since we talked last," she confided.

"That is gross. Don't tell me this stuff," said Eric, grimacing.

"I don't know how to get back," admitted Jane. "Fanfiction won't listen to me."

"You've just go to give him…it…an offer he…it can't refuse," said Eric, standing up and stretching. "I'm going to sleep on the sofa, ladies. Can't be arsed to walk home. You guys come up with a great plan for me to marry Luna, yeah? I'm counting on you, Jane," he said, kissing his sister goodnight then flopping on the sofa in the sitting room.

"Eric thinks The Godfather is like the Bible or something. Nothing can't be solved by Marlon Brando's bon mots," said Melissa, clearing the plates from dinner. Jane was mulling what he had said over in his head.

"You know, he may be right. I'm going to send Fanfiction a message, that I have a business proposal for him…it. I think I can trick Fanfiction into sending us all to where we want to be," she said, an idea forming in her head. "Throw away your razors, Mel!"

"Already done," muttered Melissa, putting plates in the dishwasher. "Just got to figure out how to grow a beard."

"You're on your own with that one," said Jane, smiling.

A few days later

It took another few days before Fanfiction's curiousity was piqued and, unlike last time, when Jane's bedroom magically melted and threw her into Caster Sugar Land, this time the change was less sudden. Jane had packed all her essential items into her trunk (dictionaries, duct tape, tampons, condoms, half a pharmacy and a lot of chocolate) and had been waiting patiently by it all week, hoping that Fanfiction would whisk her away. Luckily her patience paid off.

Melissa's flat faded from view and was replaced with a white wonderland. Slightly cold, and infinitely powdery – she was back in Fanfiction's territory. Enemy territory, she said to herself. She put the dictionary she had been reading into her trunk.

Jane Thomas, came the familiar voice. What is the business proposal you speak of?

She cleared her voice – she was going to have to sell the crap out of this. She only had one shot at this. She looked nervously around at the white expanse.

"Well firstly, I'd like to apologise for all the mean things I said. They were written in the heat of the moment, and they were undeserved." She paused, but got no answer. "But, I have something very different I'd like to talk to you about. A business proposal. The idea of a century. And even better, it's something you already have come up with. Something you've already done – you've just got to monetize it. I mean, what you have here is a niche market," she said to the open space. "And I don't think you realize it."

I don't get you…

"Listen, all the millions of readers of Fanfiction – why do they read the wonderful stories you provide? Because they want to escape their boring lives! I know – I did it. But you've, very cleverly, stumbled on something else. I mean, you're a lot more powerful than anybody actually realizes!" she said.

I am? Fanfiction said. No, I mean, I am. Very powerful.

"Like a god!," said Jane, who immediately worried she was laying it on too thick. There was a pause.

A god! Fanfiction sounded pleased. A spurt of caster sugar sprinkled down and Jane resisted the urge to sneeze.

"But also, an entrepreneur," she continued, brushing the sugar from her face.

A god AND an entrepreneur! Fanfiction repeated in wonderment.

"You've started something new, something unique!" she said, getting excited despite herself. "Not only can you offer an escape through stories…but you can physically put people in the world they read about! They can have their own adventures!"

Well…yes…I suppose, said Fanfiction. But…I mean what's the point?

"Can you hear that?" said Jane, cocking her head and putting her hand to her ear.

No. There is no sound in Caster Sugar Land, Jane Thomas. Honestly, humans, what you understand about basic pan-dimensional physics would barely fill a teaspoon…

"That's the sound of your empire. The empire you could have, you could start!" she said, ignoring his condescension.

My empire?

"How does it sound, Emperor Fanfiction?" she asked.

It…sounds good! Emperor Fanfiction, sounds powerful. An empire, I'd love an empire, I mean, obviously I am the master of Caster Sugar Land, but an empire!?

"You put me in Middle Earth, easy peasy. You barely had to click your fingers!"

Well it was a little harder than that, said Fanfiction, with unexpected modesty. I had to fill out a form…get it stamped…

"It was your trial run! Can you imagine how much a kid would pay to hang out with Harry Potter for a day?" she said.

Those Potter fans are legion, muttered Fanfiction. Quite fanatic, too.

"You can send them to Harry Potter land…for a certain fee!" she said, gleefully.

I could, said Fanfiction. The issue is, of course, that I get in a lot of trouble if they die. Forms to fill out, fines to pay. It's a lot of hassle.

Hassle, thought Jane, incredulously.

"But that's easy, you put in healers, you put in safe guards, you pull them out like you did with me! You're clever Fanfiction, and you have so much power, you can solve this tiny little difficulty easily," she said.

That's true, I am cleverer than everyone and everything, said Fanfiction. The only problem is…

"Yes?" prompted Jane.

Well, convincing people its safe in the first place. People are awful limited in their minds.

"You just use me as an example! I survived, didn't I?" she said.

True, true, said Fanfiction, pensively. Of course I can't send someone who has been injured back…so they would be a one-time customer…

"Ah now you're thinking like a businessman. A business…thing – never mind. So, out of interest," she said, innocently, "What would happen if you sent me back?"

Well, said Fanfiction, your wound would reopen.

"Hmm," said Jane, pretending to think. "And how bad was the wound?"

Oh you wouldn't die immediately, it said cavalierly, but if you didn't get proper medical attention, you'd probably kick it in, say, four hours.

"Interesting, interesting," said Jane. "Of course, you'll have to prove to customers that you can deal with every situation, even a tough one like this. You know, Fanfiction, and I'm only doing in this because I believe in you, I want to do you a favour. You should send me back to Middle Earth."

That's a lot of paperwork, Jane Thomas, Fanfiction said, dubiously.

"You need a written statement from someone who has done this before to entice your new customers, right?" she said, "So you have to send me back, somewhere near a healer, maybe Lord Elrond, to prove that this is a no risk venture. Then you can charge the big bucks and start your empire!"

My empire, Fanfiction said dreamily. My own empire.

"I've already written a statement," said Jane, taking a letter out of her pocket, "Saying that this is a great holiday idea, totally safe, blah blah blah, BUT there's several clauses saying that, you know, if any harm comes to me, or I die, then the statement in invalid. But you're too powerful to let me come to any harm, aren't you Fanfiction?" she said.

Well it was hard to control you in Middle Earth last time, admitted Fanfiction.

Jane swallowed down outrage that Fanfiction had even tried, DARED to control her and changed her tact. "Well, that's easily navigated," she said. "You should try and control the characters."

Of course! Fanfiction cried. How silly of me! That's what I do, I change the story!

"Well," said Jane, "You were obviously too busy being a creative genius to take care of the niggling little details. That's what I'm here for!"

Well, I never wanted to say, Fanfiction said, but I am a bit of a genius. I mean, I shouldn't have to say it, because it should be obvious…

"Right, so, I've packed my bag and I'm ready to go," said Jane, very eager to get started. "Also, as a little repayment to me, I've outlined some things I want – two of my friends want their own little adventures. Think of them as test runs. I've written everything down in the letter. I'll leave it here," she said, placing it on the caster sugar floor. "When you're ready," she said.

Well, Jane Thomas, I will send you back to Middle Earth. Of course, putting you in an exact location is hard…are you ready for your wound to burst open and excruciating pain? You'll probably pass out immediately from the pain and just have to wait until someone helps you.

For Boromir, she thought, trying to take courage. "Not really, but ok. You have to put me near a healer, a good healer not one of those crappy ones, like an Elf. I need an Elf," she said, gripping her suitcase tightly.

Fear not, Jane Thomas, I am Emperor Fanfiction, it said, pompously.

Oh God, thought Jane, I've created a monster.

I will put you in the safest hands in Middle Earth –

"An Elf," she clarified.

And with that, I will begin my empire and Adventure Business!

Jane closed her eyes and crossed her heart.

Ok, just let me fill in the forms muttered Fanfiction. Jane Amelia Thomas….date of birth….Emperor Fanfiction, Caster Sugar Land…PO Box 1288….

Jane started tapping her foot in impatience.

Ok! To Middle Earth!

Jane opened her eyes – and screamed.

Righto - what do you think? Haha, bit ambiguous? I'm going to write a sequel called Return of the Jane soon, but it may take a while. Anyway, let me know what you think, as I always like constructive criticism/flattery ;)

There's definitely not enough Boromir in this chapter, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, methinks.