Hello there. I have had this plot bunny running around for a while and just decided I might as well post it. I am busy writing my other story which means updates might not be at all regular. I am also in high school and have a very busy sport schedule as it is but I love to write and am dedicated to keeping my stories happening. I am also not sure how many people would enjoy a MI/LOTR crossover. It is an experiment on my part and a chance to explore crossovers. If people are excited about it then I will be inspired to keep going on it.

First: this is not a romance and there will be no OC pairing with any member of the Fellowship. Yes it is a '10th walker' but she is a Shadowhunter which means she is already a skilled fighter but not without her own faults or issues. I will do my best to make her realistic and steer clear out of cliches that people (including me!) have gotten sick of. If you see my character falling into Mary-Sue land then please tell me and I will reevaluate the story. I love constructive criticism that makes for a better story.

Second: the story will be centered on the book universe of Middle Earth. Of course having Aiedale around will influence events a little like the ripple effect. However, I will keep these ripples realistic and make sure that any changes that do happen are logical. That is the main goal of this story: a Shadowhunter in Middle Earth and what her experiences are. The story is about Aiedale and her journey home which involves all the characters we know and love from the Tolkien books. That will mean change because Aiedale will bring change with her.

Backstory: The main character in this story is a seventeen year old Shadowhunter called 'Aiedale.' She lives at the Paris Institute with her cousins, their parents and her younger brother, James. Her parents are dead - killed demon hunting when she was six or seven but they were an old, respected and powerful member of the Clave. The story is set right after City of Glass. Aiedale was in Idris for the conflict with Valentine and will share more about her past and experiences as she moves through Middle Earth. She knows the Lightwoods but I think everyone in the Shadowhunter world sort of knows each other but Aiedale is not good friends with anyone from the original Mortal Instruments series and did not participate in any of the events in New York. She was a part of the battle in Alicante. I hope to explain more about her as the story goes along.

Disclaimer: I do not own either the Mortal Instruments or Lord of the Rings series. This is just a fic that is made for fun and not for any kind of profit.

I hope you enjoy this story and please review! If you review then I will know that people want more of this story...

Aiedale Darklighter was not known for ending up unconscious, wounded and very much alone in a forest.

No.

She was known among Shadowhunters for being cool headed, deadly and an excellent person to have by your side when you found yourself in a pickle of epic proportions. Why was she here? Aiedale was only just becoming aware of that question and it was a question she to was trying to answer.

Cerulean blue sky framed by green leaved trees. A bright sun that hurt her eyes and made her quickly close them again. She quickly squeezed them closed, wincing at the spikes of pain that the light caused.

The young woman noted that she was lying on her back on soft, dry ground. There were the twittering sounds of small birds above her and a gentle breeze made the leaves of surrounding trees rustle. So far these were the only noises her sensitive ears could pick up. She must be outside on a beautiful day some place far removed from the metropolis she called home. This, she considered, was at odds with the fact that the last time she had been conscious it was drizzling and there had been no birdsong nor soft grass but concrete and the low hum of mundane machines. Moving on in her evaluation of the situation she considered how she felt.

Aiedale identified three places of particular importance: her head which ached fiercely, her ribs which felt as if they were most likely broken and the rest of her body in general. The pain from her ribs made her suspect they were broken – something she quite familiar with after years of demon hunting. The headache as well as the fuzzy cloud that hung around her thoughts told her she was likely concussed. Concussions, she knew, were the worst injury to heal even if you were a demon hunting and marked Nephilim warrior. The rest of her body ached and Aidale knew she must be covered in bruises.

Knowing all of this, she then turned her attention to what weapons she could feel were still on her and whether someone or something had gone to the trouble of stripping her of anything useful. The cool stele was still resting on the inside of her right boot and the various knives hidden among her gear were still there. She could feel the way they rested against her and it was comforting to feel their slight pressure. Because she was lying on her back, the quiver of arrows and bow fastened across her back, were putting quite a kink her spine. She shifted to try and alleviate it. The small movement sent a spasm of intense pain through her chest. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, the Shadowhunter forced herself to distance herself mentally from the pain and maintain her composure.

Once more, her breathing under control after her foolish attempt to move, Aiedale opened her eyes.

Was she alone? Widening her senses she listened for suspicious noises. Nothing. Smell? Nothing out of the ordinary - no monster stench nor the musky odor that clung to Downworlders or at least it did to everyone except for vampires. But the sun was out and that ruled out the Night Children and many other nasty things that sprang to mind.

There was, she thought as her eyes adjusted and she was able to glance around her, something very young and peaceful about this place. The trees, the warm grass, the birds chirping in the trees and the gentle breeze that cooled her face was so different from the dirty air and paved streets of Pairs. It was like being back in Alicante. For a long moment she let herself relax against the ground and merely enjoy that her heart was still beating and she was still alive. Questions buzzed through her mind but, like all Shadowhunters, she knew when to merely appreciate the gift of life and wait for the answers. Her heart still beat and she could heal her injuries. Life was maybe okay.

After a long moment she forced herself into a sitting position with her legs stretched out in front of her as she braced her arms behind her. The headache intensified and things spun around her but she merely waited for it to pass as she knew it would. Sitting up did nothing to improve her ribs and the movement had reopened the shallow cut along her collar bone just above the collar of her gear. She ignored the steady trickle of warm blood that trailed down her black leather gear. Instead, moving very slowly, she drew the stele from her boot and slowly pushed her sleeve up enough to show one of her runes. Drawing the stele across the skin she completed the iratze. The familiar burn of it made her feel a little better – it was such a familiar feeling and it had become a comforting hall mark of her life.

The relief was immediate. Her head grew clearer, her wound sealed and her ribs mended themselves back together. Without pain and, feeling stronger by the minute, the young Shadowhunter was able to confront the questions she had out off in favor of first ensuring she was alone and then healing her injuries.

What in the name of Raziel was she doing here?

Her senses, heightened to unnatural awareness by years of training and experience, told her she was far from home. This was not France and nor, she was beginning to suspect, was this anywhere she could reach by portal or mundane means.

It was different.

As different as Alicante was from Pairs.

The air, the ground, the sky, the plants and the animals all seemed imbued with something alien. Yet, the longer she let herself examine the world around her, she sensed a shadow - something dark that flitted around the corners and hid the moment she identified that it was there. It was like looking at a perfect red apple and cutting it up to find a rotten seed. It was like wandering in a fog to find, all of sudden, that one was standing on the edge of a cliff. She tensed slightly as she came to this conclusion and vowed, then and there, not to think that this beautiful clearing was as peaceful as she had thought it was at first.

She had been, recalled Aiedale, hunting demons with her cousins who also lived at the Paris Institute. They had been successful and about to return to the Institute when something had happened. But what? Aiedale could only distantly recall the skirmish with the demon and then she remembered falling. What then? She could not even recall what had caused the falling bit. With a frustrated sigh the young woman glared at the tree branches that waved above her. What was the use in remembering everything but what had happened to make her land in this foreign place? What? Angry frustration was welling up inside of her and that was mixed with exhaustion and, to her shame, fear. She was not supposed to ever feel fear.

Ever.

So she ignored it.

However, even worse than not knowing anything about how she ended up here was she had no way of contacting her cousins nor any other Shadowhunter for her phone, dug up from a pocket was, after a brief inspection, cracked badly. Aiedale did not wish to draw signal runes when she did not know what was around. A rune could act like a beacon to unfriendly things and she was in no mood to fight right then. So, to top of this truly awful day, she had no way of getting a hold of the Clave. Even if she could she did not know where she was and so could not tell them how to find her.

Ruthlessly pushing it all away, Aiedale she undid her quiver and let it fall to the ground along with her bow. Her quiver was nearly full with neatly fletched arrows which contained a few explosive ones along with a few flares. Those ones were marked by a yellow or red strip down the shaft. Aiedale stroked the soft feathers for a second as she made sure that none of them had been damaged by whatever had happened to her. The bow and arrows were standard among Nephilim that used a bow. Moving on, Aiedale removed her arm braces and the two seraph blades hidden between them and the leather of her sleever. With them off she pushed up her padded, lightly runed gear to expose more of the black marks that swirled up her skin. The runes spoke of strength and other skills meant to keep her alive even when the odds were stacked against her. Quickly Aiedale drew a iratze that sent a jolt of energy through her and one more healing iratze to deal with her few remaining bruises.

Then, slipping her stele back into her knee length, black boot made of soft but durable leather, she rebuckled her black leather bracers which were stamped with her family crest. She had other weapons on her. There were a few regular knives as well as a throwing dagger left to her by her father that she had slipped into her other boot. She had enough weapons to keep her going for now as well as the longer, slightly curved blade sheathed beneath her quiver. Slipping the seraph blades back under her braces she drew her quiver back on and rose from the ground. Black gloves, with faint silvery runes for better grip and protection, went back on over her slim hands with their faint scars. One hand quickly felt at her neck for the chain from which hung her family's silver ring and a sapphire pendant that had once belonged to her mother and was supposed to act a protection from evil eyes. Placing a hand to her rusty red auburn hair she scowled as she felt the dirt and dried blood mixed in her French braid. The plaited hair was stiff with it and it only served to add to her feelings of irritation.

When she found who did this to her...

When her gear was carefully fastened again and her various knives and other Shadowhunter tools were ready should she need them, Aiedale set her jaw. She was a realistic girl - she knew better to stay in this place where her blood stained the bright green grass and, from what she could sense, was far from any mundane settlement. Better to move on and learn what she could until she was certain creating runes was safe and she could contact the Clave.

Making sure her tracks were confused and misleading, the Shadowhunter leapt into the branches of a sturdy tree. She would travel above ground, using her agility and superior balance to leap from branch to branch. With one last look to make sure that no one could follow her using any mundane skills, Aiedale was gone. She was nothing more than a silent black shadow that flitted high above the forest floor.

The exercise was oddly clearing for her mind for there was no time for her to think about everything that was wrong with this picture. It helped dissipate some of the frustration and the desire to punch something or, better yet, kill something. She would find a way out of this – when she had determined where she might be she would contact the Clave and that would be the end. Anyway, she reasoned with herself, she was Nephilim. A warrior of light who walked the shadows with no fear and she, above all, did not know the meaning of fear.

It was then that she sensed them.

Then she saw them and it only reconfirmed that she must be farther from home then she had originally guessed.