Hey!

So,this is my very first story on the account and my very first story about Middle Earth and it's inhabitants...

Excited? Yes.

A wee bit scared? Totally.

But hey, what can you do?

First things first though: Biiiiiig thanks to my darling best friend Jo who just so happens to be my 'editor'. She basically tells me when I'm wrong and bothers me until I stop chickening out and updates this. She's fantastic, but I would never say so because I do not want this to go right to her head :P

Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own anything in this story, except for Stella.

It was late.

The sky had yawned away the evening clouds of pink and gold, and was now riddled with flecks of star light. The trees whispered soft songs to all the woodland creatures, sending even the small chirping critters high in the branches into a deep slumber. The river's current slowed to a dim patter against the smooth rocks, creating a sense of utter peace.

However, while there was peace, there was also danger lurking in the shadows.

Melui knew this, of course, but that did not stop her from traipsing through the brush of the forest, the sound of her foot steps nonexistent. She hastily walked, slow enough not to awaken the bundle in her arms, but fast enough to get to the river before the full moon rose to it's highest peak. Melui stopped at the bank, carefully observing her surroundings and the child in the crook of her arm.

"You have arrived, my friend," a voice cut into the night, soft and calm, not unlike the night itself. Gandalf the Grey rose from the tree where he was kneeled at, removing his pipe and sent Melui a nod of his head. "Come. We do not have much time."

Melui tiptoed over the rocks to where Gandalf stood, holding a large book engraved with markings of elves, men, and dwarves. The leather casing was elaborate, but worn. The markings could no longer be distinguished without proper lighting. Melui glanced at the book, her child, and then up at the wizard.

"I wish," she murmured quietly. "That there was some other way."

Gandalf smiled sadly. "As do I, mellon, as do I."

Melui nodded, kissing the baby's head softly, for this was a mother who knew she would ever again see her child she had carried, bathed, nursed, and loved.

Gandalf opened the book, muttering a few words in Sindarin until the pages lit into a fluorescent blue.

"We shall meet again, little one" she whispered against the forehead of her child.

Gandalf looked on, his eyes saddened and face weary. "She will be in good hands, mellon. I will take care of her. When she returns, she will be ready for anything that may cross her path. She will grow up beautifully, with charm, independence, and grace. I am sure of it."

"Yesssss, I would love a cuppa tea...nooo, Scooby Doo ate all the pies..."a small, sleeping woman mumbled, drooling a bit on her pillow. Snoring softly, she rolled to the end of her mattress, hanging her small hand off the side.

The night was quiet. A full moon hung low in the sky, illuminating the small apartment buildings of New York. The only sound to be heard in the young woman's flat was her incoherent babbling and the hum of the refrigerator in the small kitchen.

That is, until a sharp knock on the wooden door interrupted the serene setting.

The woman sat up immediately. She breathed heavily, spitting out loose pieces of hair that got caught on her tongue. She stared straight into the darkness, curious and the slightest bit afraid. After growing up in New York for the entirety of her life, she had learned quickly to never quite trust what could be on the other side of a door. The constant battle between friendly pizza man or dangerous robber posing as a pizza man was inescapable in the big city.

When the sharp rap came again, she made her move. Pulling a sweater with a hole in the pocket over her "Back To The Future" t-shirt, she quietly slipped her hand under her bed, retrieving an old wooden baseball bat that she had stolen from the gym equipment when she was in middle school.

Her footsteps were soft against the creaky hardwood, nearly nonexistent in sound. She moved at a frustratingly slow speed for a usually fast-paced person, but knew that if she moved too hastily, it may make her predicament much more dangerous on her behalf.

Breathing deeply through her mouth, the woman flicked the lock and chain with one swift motion. Placing her hand on the handle, she waited a heartbeat or two before swinging open the door, bat clutched in her right hand.

What was waiting for her on the other side, however, was not a pizza man poser.

Instead, it was grey wizard with a pointed hat and a twisted walking stick.

"Ah, hello, Estella," Gandalf greeted, bobbing his head with a happy smile on his withered face.

The woman, Estella, sighed in relief. "Good lord, Gandalf, you scared me half to death. Do you not comprehend that it is 2 in the morning? There is a such thing as sleeping, you know."

"Terribly sorry for the disturbance," Gandalf smirked wryly. "But I am looking for someone to share in an adventure."

Behind him, a man with shaggy dark hair and a scruffy face scuffed his boots against the hardwood floors. He hooked his hands on his hips, absorbing his surroundings with a watchful eye. Gandalf's smile remained on his face, as if unaffected by the man who stood right behind him.

Estella's eyes widened, her gaze shifting from one man to the other. "No."

"Oh come now, that is no way to treat old friends," Gandalf waved her aside, pushing the door open and striding past a helpless Estella. The man followed the grey wizard into the flat, nodding and giving the defeated woman with a bat loosely hanging in her hand a small smile.

"You've redecorated," Gandalf commented, sitting in the barstool of the small island.

"Yes," Estella replied slowly. She flicked the kitchen light on and pulled the door to the refrigerator open, setting the bat on the counter. "Can I get you anything?"

"I would not refuse a cup of juice."

Estella rolled her eyes and pulled the orange juice out of the fridge while muttering to herself. "Of course you do. Chugs down ale like nobody's business but has a juice addiction."

Pulling the glass out of her barren cupboards and pouring the juice, Estella glanced up at the man awkwardly standing in the corner.

"What is this about, Gandalf?" she asked in a slightly exasperated tone, sliding the juice over the counter to her friend.

Gandalf took a big swig of juice, draining half the glass. "This, Estella, is war."

"War for what?" she interrogated, somewhat confused.

"For our home," the man in the corner said. Estella's head swiveled to him, furrowing her dark eyebrows. "For Middle Earth."

Over his juice glass, Gandalf raised his eyebrows, waiting for the young woman's reaction. Her face, however, stayed neutral.

"I am not a child anymore, Gandalf," she said, turning back to the wizard. "You cannot expect me to uproot all my years of school and all my hard work to stay remotely stable. I have a job, and grad school, Gandalf. And a roof over my head. I may have been more eager when I was 18, but I am 23. You cannot expect me—"

The wizard slammed his glass on the counter, abruptly silencing Estella's explanation. "And you won't give all of that up to go home? What happened Stella? What happened to the curious child who begged me to take her when I left that pathetic excuse for a children's home? Where did she go?" Estella's eyes shifted to the ground. "We are in dark times. Both this world and Middle Earth will perish if we do not succeed in this journey."

Estella stared at her friend for a long, hard moment before sighing helplessly. "What do you need?"

"Aragorn," Gandalf spoke, not taking his hardened stare off of the girl. "I do not think we were all properly acquainted. My apologies."

"No matter, Gandalf. You have your reasons, I trust," Aragorn nodded, stepping forth and giving Estella a small bow. "My Lady..."

"Estella. But you may feel free to call me Stella. Pleasure, Lord Aragorn." Stella bobbed in a curtesy.

"Aragorn is Ranger known by the name of Strider. He is also the heir of Gondor," Gandalf commented, lighting his long pipe. Stella wrinkled her nose at the smell, for she thought it was quite unpleasant.

"Gandalf said we must seek your help, for it will be a long and difficult journey, and I understand he has trained you well in the languages and customs of Middle Earth," Aragorn clasped his hands behind his back respectfully.

"Yes, he has taught me everything from Sindarin to how to cast a spell that puts even the worst insomniac to sleep," Stella nodded, giving Aragorn a slight side smile. Gandalf puffed smoke from his pipe, refraining from chuckling.

"If you are as good as the grey wizard claims you to be, I would be happy for you to accompany me on this quest. Although, he has but one request," Aragorn smiled.

"What's that?"

"He asked if I would be so kind as in to train you in combat, for we need a little more than words to win a battle," the scruffy Ranger explained.

"Of course," Stella murmured softly in agreement.

"What shall it be, Estella?" Gandalf finally said, blowing another ring of smoke from his pipe.

Stella tapped her fingers on the counter and narrowed her eyes in concentration. The last time she had seen Gandalf, he had stopped by and stayed only for a good twelve hours before he wandered off again. His visits became shorter and shorter through the years, and Stella knew something was wrong, but also knew better than to question it. Now he comes to her door, asking her to come with him, to his land, far, far away? Granted it was also her birthplace and home for a short time, but that was all she knew about her past history with Middle Earth. Could she really uproot herself entirely, just to go on a quest she does not know if she will return from? Was it all worth it?

'Of course it is worth it,' a voice inside of her head argued. 'You get to go home. God forbid you ever felt comfortable here. You can go to your home, save innocent lives, and possibly find a family. Your family.'

Stella's stomach flipped at the thought. Having her own family? That was something she only dreamed about when she was a child. And even now...

Stella held her chin high, meeting Gandalf and Aragorn's expecting eyes.

"Well?" she inquired."When do we start?"

The first thing that came to Stella's mind when she opened her eyes was how she really wanted pizza.

The second was that her head felt like a thousand arrows pierced her skull at close range.

Groaning, Stella clutched her head. She didn't remember much after she stepped through the portal cleverly disguised as a book. However, as the trees above her became less like fuzzy blotches against the sky, bits and pieces started to fall into place. Pulling out her Middle Earthen clothing she received on her eighteenth birthday, strapping on her boots, running through the blue mass of a portal, and Gandalf's knowing grin the entire time these events occurred.

Gandalf.

Easing herself into a sitting position, Stella's head swiveled around in search of her old friend and Aragorn, the future king of Gondor. She recognized nothing, other than trees, leaves, and brush.

"Figures. Always late," she muttered, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and slowly pushing herself up so that she was on her feet. Stella adjusted her heavy cloak that hung lopsided on her shoulder and stumbled forward a few paces to the glowing blue book.

She leaned on a rock to regain what was lost of her balance while a quiet buzz erupted from the illuminated object and Aragorn was thrusted from the pages, flying into mid air. He landed with a 'thud' and a few Sindarin curses.

Stella looked over her shoulder at the the rugged man. "Y'alright, Lord Aragorn?"

"Oh, please," the Ranger groaned, stumbling to his feet. "Just Aragorn. I have a lingering feeling that we will be aquatinted for a while. That, and I do not particularly enjoy such formalities."

Stella laughed, shaking her head. At the sight of the puzzled look on Aragorn's face, she repressed a smile. "I apologize. I'm not laughing at you...it's just, you're the future leader of Gondor, yet you do not like formalities. It just strikes me as odd."

Aragorn nodded before standing and offering his hand to her. She placed her long fingers on his and he hoisted her from her perch on the rock. "It will take some getting used to, that is for certain."

Stella hummed in acknowledgement to his response, right as Gandalf flew from the pages of the buzzing book. He stumbled and flopped on his rear, grumbling to himself.

"Never like that dratted form of transportation," he muttered, gathering his cloaks and leaning upright on his stick. "Too rough and pushy."

"You'd loath the subway then," Stella smirked, while Aragorn knitted his brow.

"Sub...way?" he questioned, obviously not familiar with the word and it's meaning. Stella, however, patted his shoulder in mock sympathy while uttering a "Nevermind".

Gandalf let out a low, short chuckle before reaching out a withered hand to touch the side of Stella's head, right where her ear was. He hummed approvingly.

"What?" Stella's eyes widened. "What is it?"

"Nothing, young one, nothing at all. You have just seemed to take your true form when you crossed the portal from your world," he said, withdrawing his hand and giving her a nod.

Stella lifted a hesitant hand up to her ears, expecting to feel the usual rounded edge of her ear or at least a small cut from her nasty fall. However, instead of the round cartilage, her ear was pointed. Stella's eyes widened further as she brought her other hand up as well and felt the sharply edged points.

"Gandalf, what—," she breathed.

"I have told you many times before, you are of Middle Earthen blood. You are just not entirely the race you believed to be of," the wizard said in his usual philosophical manner.

"Am I...am I an elf? Like in the stories you told me?" the still quite shell-shocked girl asked, continuing to rub the tips of her ears. She had always loved the languages Gandalf had taught her, the small presents he brought from her homeland, but most of all, she loved the stories. Stubborn, loyal dwarves fighting a dragon to take back their kingdom, eagles flying far above the golden trees, and the elves healing the sick and triumphing over their enemies.

"Indeed," the grey wizard's eyes twinkled with mirth. "Now, down to aspect of the upmost importance—the quest. I shall send word when I need you both. However, from now on, Aragorn shall be training you, Estella. Work hard, fight hard. You will need it when the time comes."

Stella nodded, hardened determination on her face. She had succeeded her old friend this far, she was not about to let him down now.

"When shall you send word, Mirthrandir? How long do I have to prepare her?" Aragorn questioned as Gandalf whistled to a white horse in the brush that Stella had not noticed before.

"Only time will tell," the old wizard answered, petting the nose of his steed. "But look out for her, for she has not truly experienced this world yet. It is best to stick together at all times."

Aragon gave a slight incline of his head in acknowledgement to the older man's words. "Farewell, old friend. Until we meet next."

"It will be sooner than you think, my friends," Gandalf responded, laying a hand on Stella's shoulder. "Farewell."

"Travel safely, Gandalf," Stella spoke softly. "Until next time."

And with that, the grey wizard mounted his horse and rode off, looking back only once to shoot them a small, reassuring smile.

Stella couldn't tell who it was meant to reassure; them or him.

Annnnnnnnnnnnd, end chapter one!

Thanks for reading!

Since this is just getting started, this may be a little slow, but by at least chapter 3 or 4 it will start to pick up (hopefully).

I have a lot of good things in store for this...but you'll just have to wait and seeeeeee!

Catch ya on the flip side ;)

-Halesie