Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ Tolkienist against Mary -Sue ❯ how to make friends ( Chapter 3 )

TOLKIENIST AGAINST MARY-SUE

 

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Morgan and Vicky.

 

Note: Well, it's time for Morgan to face the music. This is a rather soft chapter where a modern girl discovers Hobbiton and the famous Bilbo.

 

 

Chap 3: HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS.

 

 

The most glorious sun was up to awake his guest. Sadly, Morgan was not much fan of having a multi-megawatt spot in the face and complained loudly as she draw the blanket on her head and tried to find a better position on her pillow of plants. Wait a minute. Blanket? Plants? The young girl abruptly sat down to take her surrounding in regard.

 

“Oh my God! Where I am?” She squinted as she didn't have her glasses. The memories of the last night rushed back and everything she could distinct was a confirmation that she has not dreamed. She was still clothed in her school uniform on a woollen grey cloak with a rough blanket. To her right, the dying remains of a fire camp and to her left her leather backpack. With a smile she found her glasses right on top of it.

 

At last, she was no longer in the fog. She was in the shadow of a forest with a gentle brook nearby singing. She could also see a path in the hills and a chestnut horse alongside a cart. But everything was secondary to him.

 

He was a grandfatherly man clothed in dark slate robes. He was smoking a clay pipe and a wood-staff was resting at his side with a blue pointed hat on it. His large leather belt supported a European style longsword. He was also smirking at her as he used the embers of the fire to prepare a tasty breakfast of sausages and mushrooms in a large pan.

 

“Good morning, young Lady. I trusted that the night was restful for you?” Gandalf was happy. He had a few answers to his numerous questions. The curious device seemed to be a rather ingenious system in order to compensate a poor sight. It was like the magnifying glasses of a scholar but much more practical.

 

Morgan smiled. The `artifice' used by this kind gentleman was still in effect. She could make the different sounds of the language used as something translated them for her in perfect English. It was disturbing because nothing that she knows could do such a thing but it enabled her to communicate and that was good. “Good morning, Sir. I am very well, thank you.”

 

“Ha! Now that a nice sight for an old bone. But please my Lady. Call me Gandalf. You make me too old by calling me Sir.” Good, good. She is much better than last night. It was a remarkable demonstration of advanced recovery here.

 

“As you wish Gandalf but only if you call me Morgan in return.”

 

“Certainly, certainly, my dear Morgan. And now are you hungry enough to partake an old man's breakfast?”

 

“With pleasure.”

 

The grey wizard and the school-student faced together as they decimated the sausages. Each of them was slowly appraising the other. Morgan was now sure that she was nowhere near anything of her knowledge. She was either in the past or in a heroic-fantasy type of dimension. Both possibilities were not good for her. She was also sure that she knew who really Gandalf was but each time she tried to remember, a rather nasty headache formed.

 

As for Gandalf, he was firmly sure that she was not of Arda. Her rather special arrival and the aura showed during the night. Everything pointed the work of the Valar behind the appearance of this girl. Now the question was why she was here.

 

“I think it will be best that you begin your tale at the very beginning. Take your time and do not worry about details, I will simply ask you to clarify. I give you my word that I will help you to the best of my capacity, my Lady.”

 

The dark haired girl remained thoughtful a few seconds then plunged her deep black eyes into the piercing blue gaze. “Thank you Gandalf. I give you my word that I will be truthful and that I shall endeavour myself to repay you.”

 

The two finished their repast and finally make them comfortable as the old wizard prepared his pipe and Morgan indulged herself a nice cup of herbal tea. She couldn't identify the plants but it was a nice blend even without sugar.

 

She mentally reviewed what to say about her and how to say it. It will be difficult to explain some aspect of her culture to a member of a culture less mechanized but she liked challenges like this.

 

“My full name is Morgan Uther Pendragon. I was born the only daughter in what is called an old blood family. Our kingdom England is governed by a parliamentary monarchy: The royal family is the figurehead but the legal and judicial power is in the hand of the people by a voting system. My family is part of the nobility around the royal family with origins that seemed to go back a very long time ago. We haven't been able to confirm or infirm our family legends. I am a sixteen years old student in a school. The education system prepared ourselves to a variety of works by teaching a common base then we take specialties as befit our strengths and weaknesses. Money and social status also determine what is available to us. My personal strength is languages. I live in a very big city called London with my mother. My father died six years ago from a feeble heart.”

 

“I am sorry to hear this. My condolences.”

 

“Thank you… I miss him… Mother has never been the same after that. They were so much in love… Anyway we were in the middle of summer when I notice what seems to be a physical problem with me. There was a curious sensation like a cramp that begun at my toes and progressed along my body in a few days. Nothing that I know could have produced this. I was working in a park with some of my schoolmates when the sensation overwhelmed me. All I could feel was my body. The most curious was that my mind had never been clearer as the same time. I could feel like a white flame in my head. At that moment…I think I heard a voice calling me from a very long distance in my mind.”

 

“Did you recognize the voice?”

 

“No. It was a genderless and powerful voice because it caused me to rush outside to a clump of trees in the park.”

 

“Did your comrades noticed your state and take actions?”

 

“No. That was weird… I couldn't even show my distress to them. At that time, I'm sure something took control of me and makes me gone outside. Then, in the clump of tree, all my senses overloaded and suddenly I was suffocating. I think I loose consciousness at that time because the next memory is the starry night sky last night.”

 

Morgan sighed and turned her troubled gaze on Gandalf. “Tell me the truth Gandalf. I'm no longer in my world, right?”

 

Now Gandalf was impressed. The girl…No, the young woman has put her finger on exactly the crucible of the matter. “I'm afraid you are correct, Morgan.”

 

He winced as she slumped, distress visible in her eyes. “Now, now. Do not worry as much. I have promised you my help and by the Valar, I will help you. The simple fact that you are here is proof that the possibility of return exist. Do not fall into despair so fast.”

 

She managed to put a little smile with shining eyes. “Thank you. Now, I believe it is your turn, Master Wizard. Why don't you begin by telling me a little of yourself and about where I am now?”

 

Gandalf chuckled. “Certainly, my dear. As you know my name is Gandalf the Grey although I am know by many names in others realms. I am a Wizard. That is I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” She grinned at that. A few tricks, really.

 

“I am an old wanderer incapable to stay in place as I help those in need or gathering favours for my friends. You are currently in the Ëa of Arda, in the region of Eriador, in the country known as the Shire near the town of Hobbiton. Most of the realms in Arda are under a royal rule. There is a nobility whose duty is to help the royal lines in theirs duties to their people. I am part of an order whose task is to oppose the Shadow, the Dark Lord, the Enemy through counsel and aid to others. Most of the folk in any realms are simple: farmers and craftsmen are the bulk of the population. The nobles rule and the men-at arms protect. There are many differences by cultures or races…”

 

“Races?”

 

“Yes. Many races along the race of Man crossed the ground. The race of Man is the most numerous. It is their time. The time of the first-born, the Eldar or Elves is about to end and most of them go to the grey-havens in order to cross the sea to Valinor.”

 

“Elves? You had elves in this world? In my world they are a mythical race, only a legend about a wise fair race with limitless life, amazing archery skill and great magic.”

 

He smirked. “An accurate description. Your legends are more truthful than what you think. Along with the Elves, we have the Dwarves…Oh! I can see on your face that there are also legends about them in your world.”

 

Morgan was troubled. “Yes. Great miners and craftsmen. Short but stout and hardy, deadly to their enemies with an axe and a rock anchor for their few friends.”

 

“Well, it seems that you are more prepared to deal with your involuntary sojourn with us.”

 

“Do not mock me, wizard. Written knowledge is hardly good enough to live in another culture. It creates dangerous preconceptions.”

 

“Correct, but it is a very good foundation to built upon it. Now, after the Dwarves, we had the last race of the Free Peoples of Arda: the Hobbits.”

 

Morgan winced as a lance of pain thrust in her brain at the evocation of the last race. “I'm afraid, I'm not familiar with this term…and yet.”

 

“And yet?”

 

“I don't know. It's as if as I knew of them but each time I tried to remember where I heard it, I gain a headache.” She massaged her temples to ride off the pain.

 

Gandalf was interested. There was a possibility that she was suffering a partial loss of memory from her rather abrupt arrival. “Perhaps have you heard of the other name of their race at large? They are known as Halflings in other parts of Arda.”

 

“Halflings? Little people, enormous appetite and a great nimbleness? And if I remember well they go shoeless and have rather hairy feet.”

 

“Well, I'm impressed. Your world's legends seemed to be very close to the truth. Perhaps have you simply travelled back in time.”

 

Now Morgan was worried. “Which is the much scary of all the possibilities… I could create a paradox or endanger the future by my mere presence.”

 

Gandalf drew on his pipe. “No, I don't think so. Last night as I examined you…” She blushed.

 

“…I was sure from what I sense in your eyes that you were not of Arda.” The tone of the wizard was serious and curiously lifted a weight from the heart of Morgan. The quiet authority behind the words of Gandalf spoke volumes.

 

“Also, I witnessed your arrival.” Now that was interesting.

 

“I was riding my cart on the road when a sudden gale manifested. You quite simply appeared on the ground unconscious and that was all. No warning and no mysterious voice.”

 

“And now that I am here, what will I do?” The future did not seem good to Morgan. She was reasonably sure that she can survive now with the help of the kind wizard but how and what prices will she have to pay later.

 

Gandalf grinned. “On that point my dear girl. The Valar watched over you. I am here in the Shire because of the preparations of the anniversary party of one of my dear friend. He is considered an eccentric among his race but he is the most helpful one to put a good first step on the path of your return.”

 

He rose and considered her sternly. “However, I must stress now that the correct handling of your situation will very likely take time. Years at the very least.”

 

“Years?” Morgan was dismayed. What will happen in her world during this time? How her mother will take the news of the disappearance of her only daughter. She was perhaps the only thing that makes her stay in the living world, and what about her? How will she live at long term in another culture?

 

“There are things that you can't control and there are some that you can learn to control.” He put her hands on her shoulders and looked in her eyes. “Even the longest road begins with one step. Will you take it?”

 

She gazed into the wise blue eyes. There were no lies in them. She nodded gulping down her apprehension.

 

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The rising sun found the Wizard and the young girl on the road to Hobbiton. They were riding the cart of the Grey Pilgrim and were devising joyfully about everything and nothing. Morgan was explaining in much more details her original world. Gandalf was giving her a lesson on the local geography.

 

He found in her someone eager to learn for the simple pleasure to learn. It was a refreshing attitude for the Wizard who had been repeatedly called too damned enigmatic. The young girl seemed to take this as a challenge. “True knowledge is between the lines of a book.” Now that was the right attitude for a scholar.

 

Gandalf sung along the way: Beautiful songs that Morgan longed to hear in the original language. When she asked how should she comport herself with the Hobbits, the Wizard laughed and told her to only be herself, it would be largely sufficient.

 

As the village begun to appear Gandalf was still singing. “Down from the door where it began, now far ahead the road as gone and I must follow if I can...”

 

A young Hobbit with black hair and blue eyes stood up as he heard the song and took a pipe out of his mouth as he did so. He looked across the woods, his face broking into a sudden smile and he ran off in the direction of the song.

 

“The Road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began, now far ahead the road has gone, and I must follow if I can.”

 

The young hobbit came to the side of the path on which Gandalf's cart is travelling. He folded his arms and looked to…well what a surprise, Gandalf has acquired a companion, a female companion at that. “You're late.”

 

Gandalf stopped his cart and looked sternly to the hobbit. “A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”

 

Morgan blinked as the two of them looked at each other for a moment as though trying to keep a straight face. Then, as Gandalf's mouth began to twitch, their faces both broke into sudden smiles and they laughed richly. Frodo jumped onto Gandalf's lap, arms outstretched.

 

“It's wonderful to see you, Gandalf!”

 

He caught him, embracing him as he did so, swaying from side to side with Frodo in his arms, laughing once again. They broke apart, and Gandalf looked at Frodo. “You didn't think I'd miss your uncle Bilbo's birthday?” He touched Frodo's face affectionately, and laughed.

 

“What news of the outside world? Tell me everything!”

 

“Everything? You're far too eager and curious for a Hobbit. Most unnatural... Well, what can I tell you? Life in the wide world goes on, much as it has this past Age. Full of its own comes and goings. Scarcely aware of the existence of Hobbits. For which I am very thankful.” He stopped. “But I am forgetting my manners. Morgan, allow me to present you Frodo Baggins of the Shire, a cousin of Bilbo Baggins. Frodo, allow me to present you Lady Morgan Uther Pendragon of England.”

 

“It is a pleasure and an honour to meet you, my Lady.”

 

Morgan smiled to Frodo then turned to Gandalf. “Tell him, I am deeply honoured to meet him and give him my apologies to not being able to do it myself.” She wished to be able to talk to the rather handsome Hobbit. Another annoying thing was the intense headache she had since seeing him.

 

“You'll have to excuse her Frodo. She came from a very far realm and she is not proficient in Westron. She is very honoured to do your acquaintance and regret to not be able to salute you properly.”

 

Frodo waved away the concerns of the two travellers. He was sufficiently excited by the arrival of the Wizard to be concerned by the presence of this Lady. She was a very beautiful Lady for a big person. Frodo remarked that the young girl was clad in a familiar too large woollen grey cloak and he caught the glimpse of foreign attires under it. The strangest thing was the curious device on her face.

 

The cart passed through a crowded marketplace where Hobbits could be seen going about their daily tasks, leading pigs and goats, exchanging goods, or just eating. One of the Hobbit waved to the little group. “Look! It's Gandalf!” Gandalf tipped his hat in return.

 

The cart moved out of the marketplace, and on, to the top of a slope where they were given a magnificent view of a more quiet part of the Shire which is lush and green. Morgan could see several smials or hobbit-holes according to Gandalf beneath the hills. It was really a beautiful and peaceful country.

 

Gandalf pointed to a large grass field. “Ooh… The long expected party.”

 

They could see a group of thirty or so hobbits working on party preparations. Ten or so tried to keep a tent up, while others carried tables and chairs. Another group was adorning a tree with decorations.

 

“Hold it!”

 

The Hobbits were also putting up a banner saying 'Happy Birthday Bilbo Baggins'. As it was raised, the Hobbits cheered and they clapped and cheered more loudly when it stayed up.

 

“Yeah, Bilbo, yay, up we go...”

 

The cart with the trio continued on, on what seemed to be a grassy path through the woods.

 

“So how is the old rascal? I hear it's going to be a party of special magnificence!”

 

“You know Bilbo. He's got the whole place in an uproar.”

 

“Now, well, that should please him.”

 

“Half the Shire's been invited along with our friends dwarves!”

 

“Good gracious me!”

 

“He's up to something.”

 

“Hmm...”

 

Frodo smirked to Gandalf. “All right then, keep your secrets.”

 

The cart passed a hobbit-hole with a chimney breathing white clouds of smoke and a line of clothing hung on its roof. Two Hobbits stood by the gate, talking. Morgan waved to them as the cart passed by.

 

“Before you came along, we Bagginses were very well thought of.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected.”

 

“If you're referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved.” Gandalf looked at Frodo and he looked back doubtfully. In the back of the cart, Morgan mouthed `a dragon' as her eyes widened. She could only follow half of the conversation but she found the Westron language interesting and beautiful. She was eager to learn it.

 

“All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out of the door.”

 

Frodo laughed. “Whatever you did, you've been officially labelled a disturber of the peace.”

 

Gandalf muttered. “Oh, really?”

 

A hobbit by a house with the name of 'Proudfoot' saw Gandalf while sweeping the front of his house and eyed him and the girl rather sourly. Hobbit children ran through the fields and followed the cart.

 

“Gandalf! Gandalf's here!! GanDALF!”

 

The Hobbit kids climbed a fence and ran past the gate at which the Proudfoot hobbit and his wife were standing. The Proudfoot hobbit mouthed something then closed his mouth as though pained. Soon, the Hobbit children were coming to the road that the cart was on and stood on one fork of it.

 

“Fireworks, Gandalf... Gandalf! Fireworks, Gandalf...”

 

But Gandalf took the other fork.

 

“Ohhhh...”

 

Gandalf smiled then thumped his staff to the back of the cart. Some fireworks fired out of the back of the wagon. Morgan squealed in fright at the unexpected demonstration. The Hobbit children jumped up and down and cheered. Frodo smiled to himself then looked at Gandalf rather amused.

 

Gandalf laughed and winked to a pouting Morgan. “Oooh...Oooh...”

 

The Proudfoot hobbit laughed and as he did so, his wife walked towards him, hands on her hips, given him a rather quelling look. His smile vanished and he adopted a grumpy expression.

 

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The cart came to the woods and slowed down. Frodo held onto one of the posts of the wagon as he turned to the Wizard. “Gandalf. I'm glad you're back.”

 

“So am I, dear boy.” Frodo jumped off the wagon, saluted Morgan and waved as he leaved.

 

The young Hobbit muttered to himself. “So am I.”

 

Frodo ran off into the fields and Gandalf and his charge continued on to Bag End. As he stopped his cart in front of it, Gandalf looked at the hobbit-hole and sighed in satisfaction. Now, he can really help the young Lady. Signalling to Morgan to follow, he opened the gate which read 'No admittance except on party business' then continued on to the front door which he knocked on with his staff.

 

A voice came from the inside. “No, thank you! We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!”

 

Gandalf smiled at that and said. “And what about very old friends?”

 

An old and well-clothed Hobbit opened his front door. “Gandalf?”

 

“Bilbo Baggins.” The Wizard Held his hands out to Bilbo.

 

“My dear Gandalf!” He walked towards the tall Istari who knelt down and embraced him.

 

“Good to see you. One hundred and eleven years old. Who would believe it? He looked at Bilbo. “You haven't aged a day.” They both laughed.

 

Bilbo then remarked the shy black-haired young girl who was waiting near the cart. “Gandalf! You brought a charming person and you neglect to present us. The shame, the shame my old friend!”

 

Gandalf smirked and signalled to the schoolgirl to come. “Bilbo, I present to you the Lady Morgan Uther Pendragon of the city of London. Morgan, this is my dear friend Bilbo Baggins, master of Bag End.”

 

Morgan smiled and curtsied. Gandalf smiled and turned to Bilbo. “I'm afraid that I am to speak in her name. Lady Morgan is hailing from a very far realm and she is not versed in Westron or any language nearby.”

 

“Oh! Dear me, dear me! This is atrocious. We have to help her Gandalf!”

 

“Why do you think I take her to you?”

 

Bilbo blushed under the implied compliment then offered his arm to Morgan. “Come on, come in! Welcome, welcome.” He closed the door and muttered. “Oh, here we are.”

 

He took Gandalf's staff and hat and helped Morgan out of her cloak. He absently remarked the foreign cut of her clothes. “Tea my dear? And maybe something a little stronger for you Gandalf. I've got a few of bottles of the old Winyard left. 1296. Very good year. Almost as old as I am. Ha ha ha ha ha. It was laid down by my father. What's say we open one, eh?”

 

“Just tea, thank you.” Gandalf hit his head on one of the lights. Then, as he put it straight, he hit his head on the ceiling. “Ohh...” Morgan snickered behind her hands. For once her medium height was an advantage.

 

Bilbo muttered in the background. “I was expecting you sometime last week. Not that it matters since there is two months to go. You come and go as you please. Always have done and always will. You caught me a bit unprepared, I'm afraid. But I'll make sure Lady Morgan is taken for. We've only got some cold chicken and a bit of pickle... There's some cheese. Oh no, that won't do. We've got raspberry jam, an apple tart... But not much for afters. Oh, no, we're all right. I've just found some sponge cake.”

 

As Gandalf looked at some maps on the table, Morgan discovered with interest the many books in the smial. Her dark eyes blazed with glee before the written treasure.

 

“I can make you some eggs if you li…” He advised the admiring young girl…alone in the room. “Ganda… Gandalf?”

 

Gandalf reappeared suddenly from another room. “Just tea, thank you.”

 

“Oh, right.” Bilbo stuffed some cake in his mouth, and mumbled. “You don't mind if I eat, do you?”

 

“No, not at all.”

 

“Well, here is the tea. Come on my Lady. Try a cake, there're delicious.” The language of food and gestures are universals. Morgan bowed to the Hobbit and daintily nibbled on the sweet confections. The tea was heavenly.

 

On the outside, a female Hobbit suddenly banged on the door. “Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins!”

 

Bilbo hid himself out of the window and whispered to his guests. “I'm not at home! I've got to get away from these confounded relatives, hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moment's peace. I want to see mountains again, mountains, Gandalf. And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book...”

 

“So you mean to go through with your plan, then?”

 

“Yes, yes, it's all in hand. All the arrangements are made. Don't worry for your charge, there will be something done.”

 

“Oh, I'm not worried.” He turned to Morgan. “I have found you a tutor for my two months leave of you.”

 

The displaced girl smiled. “Two months? In total immersion with these gentle folks? This is great. I'm sure to have progressed nicely for your return.” She then turned to Bilbo. “Could you ask him if I am not a heavy charge for him? Obviously he had some pressing matters.”

 

Bilbo waved away her concerns after translation. “No worry my dear. You will even do god for an old geezer like me. Having such an eager student will change me from those who don't want to learn.” He then got the tea and Gandalf took the lid off for him.

 

“Oh, thank you.”

 

“Frodo suspects something.”

 

“'Course he does. He's a Baggins! Not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle.”

 

“You will tell him, won't you?”

 

“Yes, yes.”

 

“He's very fond of you.”

 

“I know. He'd probably come with me if I asked him. I think in his heart, Frodo's still in love with the Shire. The woods, the fields. Little rivers. I'm old, Gandalf. I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel thin. Sort of stretched, like butter, scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don't expect I shall return. In fact, I mean not to.”

 

As the kind Hobbit spilled his heart out, the headache of Morgan amplified. She was worried by the intensity and the frequency of those headaches. She thought it was an important fact but she couldn't put her finger on it.

 

Well, at least the Wizard seemed to have found a very nice and pleasant teacher for her. She grinned as she thought of her future lessons with the master of Bag End and she knew that if she was accepted by the Hobbits, she will be accepted everywhere.