Chapter One

Happenstance

It wasn't supposed to end this way. Her lungs pulled with the strength of a string and her throat gurgled with the weight of her blood that flooded her mouth. The ground beneath her felt ice cold and the mud grasped at her armor and tugged her further into the depths. She wasn't meant to die this way. She wasn't meant to die here. She wasn't meant to die, at all!

She was supposed to be home. Her fingers were smashed under a thick and blackened boot. She was supposed to be home, with her cat and fish. Through the stain of gray that filtered her vision, she could see the faint glint of a dripping mace being raised above her head, her one good hand flying up to stop it. 'As if that could stop a fifteen pound weapon. Right.'

The least Fate could have given her was to have made it back to the Shire, with Bilbo.

'But now I won't have even that.'

The mace came down with a roar.

"Late, late, late." She grumbled with enough venom that only served to poison her mood further. She sighed harshly through her nose and the car's door was flung open with a crack and snapped back at her with the force that remained. A grunt was all the door received before she threw herself into the driver's seat of the car and the ignition was given a violent twitch with the keys from her hand. The visor was pulled down for a moment, a quick inspection to make sure her hair was in place and her face was at least decent.

"Of all the times to be late, today was not one of them!" With a growl, the visor was flipped back up and the car shifted into gear. The road was clear and she pulled away from the curve with only the smallest of hesitations. The engine roared as she heaved a foot against the pedal and the tire yanked the road from under the car, sending her flying forward.

The four-way intersection came up quick and it was only seconds after she hit the brakes that her fingers gripped the steering wheel with new strength.

She wasn't going to stop. Didn't matter how hard she slammed her heel to the brake. She could only swallow and pray she got through the intersection unscathed. Her brown eyes flickered to her left and a small, breathless laugh escaped her throat.

'Not so sure that truck is thinking the same thing.' In the span of time it took her to inhale enough air for a scream, a light flashed behind her eyes and all she could recall were her pets and the hope that someone would remember them after she was gone.

There was a distant and muffled sound of chatter that bled into her ears. The skin along the inside of her nose burned from the coating of dirt she had inhaled. Her throat was dry and her mouth gaped like a gasping fish from the water. A hand came to her shoulder and gently the fingers curled into her skin. 'Skin?' Lead weights kept her eyes from flying open and she groaned with the effort to roll onto her back. 'Did I... did I fly out of the car? Oh god.' The hand on her shoulder was careful and calm, the palm smoothed out over her shoulder blade and rubbed her muscles soothingly. For some odd reason, this brought tears to her eyes.

That seemed to set the weight back and now she could blink and look around her. Trees surrounded her, sunlight glittered through the canopy and several birds chirped incessantly from above. Another blink and a face swam into her vision. She could feel her brow pinch with confusion as the mop of curly hair on the woman's head was accented with pointed ears. The confusion only grew stronger when a male came up beside the woman and he, too, had pointed ears. He scratched at them lightly and then sighed and shifted to a knee to be closer. A new panic set into Margaret and she gasped and yanked her shoulder out of the woman's grasp to curl into herself.

A round of hushed chatter passed between the two who had found her and before long a cloak was thrown over Margaret's naked body. She shivered from the rough feel of wool and gasped again, a sob now mangling itself from her throat. 'Where the hell am I?' A hand laced its fingers into her tangled hair and the woman cooed at her softly. Margaret clamped her mouth shut and inhaled painfully, doing what she could to control her panic. She tried to sit up and a pair of hands found purchase on the small of her back and her shoulder, lifting her and steadying her when she stuttered from pain.

The world viciously tilted one way and then another and Margaret couldn't stop herself from being suddenly sick just in front of her, nearly half of what came up from her stomach now covered her knees. The woman's hand gracefully massaged up and down Margaret's spine, a soft tone echoed in her voice and it was only then that Margaret realized she couldn't understand what the woman was saying. Confused and sick, Margaret brought a hand to her mouth to stop any more sick from coming up and her dizzying gaze desperately tried to focus on the couple that stood next to her.

'Wait. Are they standing?' Her eyes flickered over the couple and another vile pump of sick nearly slipped past her fingers. Pointed ears, hairy feet, pudgy faces, and stump bodies. The curly hair on both their heads and their rosy cheeks would have almost been enough to mask the rest of it, if Margaret's weird tunnel vision hadn't focused on their stranger characteristics. They were small, bent at the waist and the woman's hand came to Margaret's forehead, a sweet and motherly smile colored her face. The woman's mouth moved, and sound was produced, but for the life of her, Margaret couldn't comprehend the words that came out.

"I'm – I'm sorry, I don't know – I don't know what you're saying." Margaret hiccuped between her fingers. Now the couple stuttered in their movements and glanced at each other. The woman's brow furrowed over her honey brown eyes and slowly, she spoke again. Still, it was nothing Margaret could understand and so she shook her head, "I still don't know... what you're saying, I'm so sorry." A shiver ran through her spine, 'What if it isn't her? What if it's me? Did I hit my head? What's happening?' Margaret hadn't noticed her lungs began to hyperventilate until the woman reached forward and held her face in both of her calloused, warm hands.

The simple touch was tender and Margaret melted into the woman's palms. Tears raced down her face and the woman smiled as she thumbed them away, whispering something to her male companion. The male seemed reluctant to agree to whatever it was that the woman had asked of him, but after a firm look from his companion, he nodded and left them. Margaret watched with a hazy gaze as he trotted up the grassy hill and came to a stop near a horse-drawn cart. If she wasn't confused before, she was definitely confused now.

"Where am I?" Margaret whispered to the woman that stayed with her. "This – how did I get here?" The trees, the grassy hill and bright sunlight were nothing that she remembered. The city had surrounded her last time, with a gasoline flavored fog that blasted through her air-conditioning and a screeching truck who's blaring horn had done nothing to help the situation she had previously suffered. The woman stood back and winced as she straightened her spine and Margaret bit her lip at the sight of a very swollen belly that protruded from the woman's hips.

When her eyes came up to the woman's, there was only a smile that greeted her. A hot blush flooded Margaret's face when she turned her eyes away. Margaret pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders and tucked her folded and soiled legs closer, to hide them within the fabric. The pointed-ear man soon returned and he carried a larger piece of cloth. Gently, he stepped forward and murmured something to her, but at the shake of her head, he sighed and swung the cloth around her back to let it float down onto her shoulders and head. The woman spoke and pointed to her and her male companion nodded with a hand held out for Margaret to take, and she did so with hesitation.

She stood and her knees whined with the weight of her body and she stumbled down onto her hands and nearly kissed the ground in front of her. The couple shot forward and instantly two pairs of hands came to her shoulders, her neck, and her arms to try and steady her. Margaret swallowed, but the sick still returned and splattered against the ground and over her hands. More murmurs passed over her head and with a firm heave, the man pulled her up to her feet. Margaret swallowed a scream when she became aware of why she had stumbled.

She was shorter. Portlier. Her hips were wider and her feet felt like concrete. With a swaying head, she glanced down at her shuffling legs as the couple hoisted her between them and escorted her to their cart. Her toes were massive, but didn't appear so next to her enormous feet. Her shapely legs were gone and were replaced by thick and muscled tree trunks. 'This isn't my body.' Her lungs stuttered and hiccuped, threatening to choke her into submission, into darkness. 'What's happening? What's happening to me!'

She had only managed to hook her fingers onto the back end of the cart before another wave of nausea flooded her system and her head came down with a crack.

"Bella, I do not believe this to be a wise choice." Bungo murmured gently with the reigns of his pony tight in his palms. Now and again his gaze would be cast back and the female dwarf's bundled form sent a renewed sense of dread through his veins. Bella's calming hand came to rest at the crook of his elbow and patted him lightly.

"I know you have fear, my love, but look at her." Bella could not turn to see the female as her belly kept her still and heavy. Instead her eyes came to her husband and she tilted her head, a tone to her words. "She was indecent and... you heard her, Bungo. That was not in any form of Westron. I do not believe that could have been her language, either. We must help her, you know this."

Bungo pursed his lips and flicked the rope in his hands. "I know what you say is true, I only fear... what could have left her like that? You saw her face, something... it looked as though she had been beaten."

"Even more of a reason that we must give her aid, my love." Belladonna kept her voice light and her words easy, but she too felt the distress that coursed through her husband. "She was scared, you could see that in her eyes. She is lost. We shall take her home, let her rest and find her aid. Perhaps then we can figure out what has happened to her."

"Of course, dear. I suppose there is no sense in changing your mind, the dear probably would not have anywhere else to go." Bungo agreed and with a quick whistle to the pony, the cart rolled along at a quicker pace, back toward the Shire.

Note: A new inspiration. Comments, question, or concerns?