AN: Alright, here goes another crossover... For those who are following my other works, you might be familiar with my HP/LOTR crossover and if so, you may know how much I absolutely love Lord of the Rings crossovers.

An important note about this fic is that it is based largely on my headcanon that Emma read and loved the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings books as a kid, thus explaining her knowledge about Middle Earth. (If you want, you can check out that headcanon in more detail in one of my other fics, There and Back Again)

Also, I started writing this with the intention of it being a short little piece but then it spiraled out of my control. I had to cut it off before it took over my life. (Although I must say that I'm damn tempted to continue this in the future)

I don't own Once Upon a Time or Lord of the Rings. If I did, I could afford to study abroad.

"One of these days I'm going to stop chasing this woman," Killian muttered to himself, even as he wrenched his hook from the dirt and was sucked into the portal.

When Killian emerged from the portal, he found himself falling onto hard ground, rolling with the fall. Beside him, Emma was groggily getting to her feet and observing their surroundings.

"No- how-" she started to ask, but she didn't even bother finishing her sentence.

"It appears that we're back in the Enchanted Forest," Killian guessed, based on their wooded surroundings. The forest wasn't all that dense and Killian thought he could make out a road a few yards away.

"Yeah, I got that," Emma replied a bit dryly.

"The only question is when."

"Not a clue," Emma answered as she started to get a better look at things. Emma didn't know much about forests or plants, least of all in the enchanted forest, but there was a certain strangeness to everything; nothing seemed familiar. Killian had noticed it as well. There were trees and vines that he had never seen before, and not even in Neverland had he seen anything resembling the small white flowers that sprawled out in a patch over the ground to his left.

"Shall we go find out, then?" Killian suggested, stuffing the storybook in his bag and gesturing to the road. Emma sighed.

"Suppose we might as well."

They hadn't been on the road for very long before they heard the sounds of clopping hooves and creaking wood coming up behind them. Killian and Emma stepped aside to let the cart pass, but they watched it carefully. It was odd, Killian thought. The cart was being pulled by a pony and it was being driven by someone he would have mistaken for a child if it wasn't for his grey hair, large belly, and very large, very hairy feet.

"What in the name of-" Killian started to say once the cart had passed, turning to Emma. However, he cut himself off when he caught sight of her pale face and gaping mouth.

"Emma? Emma, is everything alright?"

His question seemed to shake her out of her daze but instead of answering him, she took off running after the cart.

"Damn it," Killian cursed under his breath, chasing after her.

"Excuse me!" Emma called to the cart driver. He didn't seem to hear her. "Hey! Excuse me!" The cart slowed to a stop and so did Emma, Killian right behind her.

"Can I help you?" the cart driver asked.

"Yeah, where does this road go?" Emma asked.

"Are you and your husband lost?" the driver asked.

"Oh, no, we're not mar-"

"Yes," Killian was quick to interrupt Emma, curling an arm around her waist, "my wife and I are terribly lost, sir," he said, taking the excuse the driver provided and running with it.

"Well, going west it'll take you to Hobbiton," he answered, pointing in the direction he was headed, "but I expect you big folk are headed for Bree, is that correct?" he asked, and before Killian could say anything, Emma answered in the affirmative. "Then you'll want to be heading east," the driver continued, pointing behind him. "It's less than an hour up the road by foot."

Emma thanked the driver and they let him go on his way, though once he was out of earshot, Emma cursed very loudly.

"What is it?" Killian asked, more than a little concerned.

"We're not in the enchanted forest," Emma told him.

"What? No, we have to be-"

"But we're not," Emma cut him off. "Zelena really fucked up her time portal."

"Well if we're not in the Enchanted Forest, then where the bloody hell are we?" Killian asked.

"We're in a place called Middle Earth, Killian, ever heard of it?" she asked as she started walking east down the road.

"No, should I?" Killian asked as he hurried to follow her.

"Not unless you know JRR Tolkien," Emma answered tersely. "This place is supposed to be fictional!"

"Love, need I point out that at one point you also thought that I was fictional?"

"Yeah, but Peter Pan and Captain Hook, those stories were classics, bedtime stories and disney movies. Lord of the Rings isn't even eighty years old," she said.

"Emma, how do you know about all this?" Killian had to ask.

"This world, it- there were these books that I read as a kid, and they took place in this world," she explained.

"And how can you know for sure that we're in this Middle Earth and not in just some odd corner of the Enchanted Forest?"

"Because hobbits don't exist in the Enchanted Forest."

"Hobbits?" Killian repeated the word she had used. "Is that what that hairy cart driver was?"

"Yep, short, pointy ears, big and hairy feet and all," Emma confirmed, and Killian could tell that in spite of their current situation (that being decidedly not in Storybrooke), she was enjoying her turn as the knowledgable one.

"You wouldn't happen to have any gold on you, would you?" Emma leaned in to ask Killian as they approached the gated town. He simply raised an eyebrow at her.

"Love, what do you take me for?" he asked, a grin on his face as he reached for a pouch on his belt, jangling it and the coins inside. Emma couldn't help the little smile on her face.

"Although we really should do something about this," Killian added, gesturing to Emma's attire.

"What's wrong with this?"

"I'm afraid that if this place is anything like the Enchanted Forest that you and your red leather jacket will stick out like a sore thumb, love."

"Killian, this is quite possibly the most uncomfortable thing that I have ever worn in my life," Emma said as she emerged from the grove of trees that she'd been changing behind. Killian's mouth went dry at the sight of her; all long skirts, loose hair, and terribly flattering corset, if he said so himself. Gods above, he was in trouble.

"Your discomfort is a cross I'm willing to bear," he said with a grin, approaching her and allowing himself to brush her hair away from her face. Emma was fighting back a smile - rather unsuccessfully - as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Let's go," she said, brushing past him and striding towards the town.

"Now, can I get your names if you please?" the man at the counter - Butterbur if Emma recalled correctly - asked, looking up at the pair of them expectantly, the tip of his quill hovering over his logbook.

"Morrison," Emma answered, giving him the first name that she thought of, "Colin and Jennifer Morrison."

"Alright Mr. and Mrs. Morrison, Nob will take you up to your room," Butterbur said, jotting down their names and waving over a hobbit with dark hair.

"Thank you, sir," Killian said politely, before he and Emma followed the hobbit through the dining room and up the stairs where he led them to the second floor, third door on the left, and unlocked the door, handing Killian a key. Emma thanked the hobbit with a manufactured sense of sweetness and once he was gone, she closed the door behind her and Killian. As soon as the door was shut, she leaned back against it and let out a loud groan of anger, frustration, and exasperation.

"Emma, love, calm down, take a deep breath," Killian tried to placate her.

"I'm sorry, I just- I just want to go home, to my parents and to Henry and-" Emma sighed as she paced the room, stopping in front of the window. "I just want to go home."

"And we will," Killian assured her. "We'll figure this out. Now, you know this place better than I, what's our next move?" he asked her, trying to both get her mind off of home and also get her thinking about solutions to their predicament. After a moment of thought, she had her answer.

"There are wizards in this world, and elves with powerful magic of their own. We're gonna need their help to get back."

"Alright, how do we find these wizards and elves?" Killian asked her, careful to keep his town open and free of skepticism.

"If I'm right," Emma began, "then there is a man here in this place who is friends with one of the wizards, Gandalf. But-"

Emma was interrupted by a clap of thunder from outside, the rain having started shortly after the sun set.

"But if he is who I think he is and if we're here when I think we are, then we're in for a shitstorm."

Killian and Emma were seated at a small table in the dining room, Emma positioned so she could keep an eye on the man she had mentioned and Killian was having a hard time fighting back the jealousy that was beginning to writhe and coil in his gut. Killian had been about to say something to Emma, it wasn't important anymore, really, when the door swung open and four hobbits walked in, each of them soaked to the skin. Killian relayed this information to Emma and he could tell that she was very close to swearing up a storm.

"What's wrong, love?"

"We're in the book," she said under her breath, "we're in the fucking book." She looked up at Killian to see a puzzled expression on his face. "Those four hobbits and the shifty guy in the corner are all main characters, Killian, and this is where they meet. We're in the fucking book."

"Okay, so talk to me, love, what do we need to do?" he asked levelly, doing what he could to remain calm himself in the hopes of calming Emma down. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, before leaning in close so as not to be overheard.

"If I remember correctly, the hobbits pay for a room but spend their evening here, in the dining room, eating and drinking. There's either an accident that reveals one of them to the guy in the corner or he just calls one of them over to him, I don't remember. Either way, the hobbits end up going up with corner guy to his room where he explains everything that's going on, proves he's a friend of Gandalf, and promises to help them get to-" Emma cut herself off.

That was it. That was how they were going to get help. If they could just talk to Strider, she could sure as hell convince him that she was legit and then maybe he would take them along to Rivendell where they could get some real help.

"To get to where, Emma?" Killian asked carefully, covering one of her hands with his own and bringing her out of her thoughts.

"To get to Rivendell," she answered. "It's a place where we can get help," she explained with a smile, and Killian felt himself smiling too at the sight. "Follow my lead when it's time?" she asked, that little smile still on her lips.

"Of course."

Aragorn watched the couple as they entered the inn and couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about them. Not sinister, not really, just - off, strange, unusual. The man was tall; he had short dark hair, an earring on one lobe, and he was dressed almost completely in black leather, a sword belted to his hip. He looked confident, sure of himself, but he seemed to be deferring to the woman - his wife, most likely, if their body language was any indication.

The woman was a beauty, Aragorn had to admit. She was a slender woman with blonde hair, though she looked uncomfortable in her own clothes, as if she was unaccustomed to them. She was a good liar, her husband too; very good liars. But liars all the same. As they passed through the dining room, the woman looked over at Aragorn - at first with curiosity but then something like realization dawned in her eyes before she schooled her features and whispered something to her husband (who stole a furtive glance Aragorn's way).

It would be a lie to say that he wasn't concerned about this new development. This strange woman knew who Aragorn was, at least in some capacity, and that was something he would have to address. After the hobbits arrived.

When the couple came back to the dining room, they kept to themselves. However, anyone who was actually paying attention to them could see that they were constantly watching the room, even as they conversed. The woman was facing the inside of the room, and Aragorn was sure that she was keeping him in her line of sight intentionally. The man had a clear view of the door and everyone who came and left. They were smart, Aragorn would give them that.

What puzzled Aragorn was that they didn't seem like threats. By every right, they should be, but his instincts disagreed.

He was still pondering the strange couple when the door swung open and in walked four very soggy hobbits, one of whom paid for a room under the name of Underhill.

The hobbits had returned downstairs and Emma and Killian were watching them furtively. There had been a bit of a cheer when they had entered and they were quickly called over by some local hobbits who started peppering them with questions about the Shire and the like.

As Emma watched these goings-on, passages from the book were flooding back into the forefront of her mind. 'Men and Dwarves were mostly talking of distant events and telling news of a kind that was becoming only too familiar,' she remembered even as they told their tales, tales about trouble in the South. The hobbits were telling stories and the locals were getting curious. Emma caught one of them asking where the Underhills lived and who they were related to.

And there it was.

One of the hobbits - Frodo, Emma labeled him - had called Butterbur over and had asked about the man in the corner. Butterbur told Frodo about him, how he was a ranger who hardly talked save for the occasional tale, disappearing for months or even years at a time.

"What his right name is I've never heard, but he's known 'round here as-"

"-Strider," Emma whispered in unison with Butterbur as he continued his explanation to Frodo.

"Is that the man in the corner?" Killian asked in a whisper as well, and Emma nodded.

Emma and Killian then watched as Strider waved for Frodo to come over to his table, introducing himself to the hobbit and cautioning him against him and his friends saying too much about themselves. Or at least, that was how Emma remembered the conversation going. Sure enough, one of the hobbits - it must have been Pippin, he was younger than the other three - started telling the story of Bilbo's one hundred and eleventh birthday party and Frodo was singing a song about an inn, a cat, and the man in the moon.

In spite of their situation, Emma and Killian found themselves laughing and clapping along with the rest of the folk there, cheering Frodo on as he sang. He finished the song and men were buying him drinks and insisting that he sing it again. When the little hobbit climbed up atop one of the tables, Emma felt dread settling in her gut.

"What's wrong?" Killian leaned in to ask her, his question masked to anyone else by the din.

"You'll see," Emma said, and her suddenly rigid posture had Killian on edge too - whatever was happening was going to be bad.

Sure enough, Frodo was jumping in the middle of a lyric about the cow jumping over the moon when he vanished - just disappeared.

"Ah, so that's what you were talking about," Killian said somewhat dryly while the rest of the bar was sent into an uproar.

"Yeah," Emma confirmed, though her attention was back on the corner where Strider sat, watching and waiting for Frodo to reappear. Sure enough, there he was, in the shadows, and he was being scolded by Strider.

A few hours later, most of the patrons of the bar had gone, save for Emma and Killian. Even Strider had left the common room for awhile, disappearing upstairs for a good hour and a half (closely following the four Shire hobbits, Emma noticed) before coming back downstairs and returning to his corner. Butterbur was still bustling in the back, in the kitchen, but for all intents and purposes, the bar was empty.

Emma shouldn't have been surprised when Strider, over in the corner, waved the two of them over. She really shouldn't. And yet, she was. She was all of a sudden on the defensive, as was Killian. She couldn't afford to fuck this up. Strider was their ticket to Rivendell, Gandalf, Elrond, and hopefully a way home.

"You two are not who you say you are," he said levelly, not a single shred of doubt in his tone of voice.

"Perhaps," Emma allowed, "but neither are you."

"Is that so, Mrs. Morrison?" Strider asked her, stressing the false name. Killian gave Emma a look that said let's just tell him, he already knows we're lying, there's no point in trying to keep it up, love. Emma sighed inwardly. He was right.

"It's Emma," she admitted, "Emma Swan. And this is Killian Jones. We're looking for a way back home and I think that you can help us."

"Why is that?"

"Because I know who you are - who you really are, mind you - and because I know that you can take us - us and those hobbits - to Gandalf."

Strider was suddenly rigid and defensive - well, more so than before. His right hand drifted to the pommel of his sword where it was belted at his hip (Emma noticed Killian doing the same) and his face hardened.

"Perhaps we should move this conversation somewhere where there is less chance of us being overheard?" Killian suggested, and Strider nodded, rising from his seat and leading Emma and Killian up the stairs and to the room that he was renting for the night.

"What do you know of me?" he asked sharply as soon as the door was closed.

"If you are who you say you are, then I know plenty," Emma fired back.

"And how will you be sure that I am who I say?"

"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost," Emma recited after a beat, and Strider lowered his weapon.

"From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring," Strider continued the poem, and Killian noticed a little grin creeping onto Emma's lips.

"Renewed shall be the blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king," she finished the poem.

"Select few know those verses," Strider said, now far more at ease with the two of them than before. "How did you come to know them?"

"That's a bit of a long story."

Thanks for reading! If you liked it (or want me to continue?) let me know in a review!