Hoo boy, we're back kids, I said I was tempted to continue this one and it has finally happened! I can't say how often I'll be able to update this, my academic schedule is full as heck, but I will do my damnedest.

In case anyone forgot, I don't own Once Upon a Time or Lord of the Rings. If I did, I would be a very rich woman.

"And basically, we fell through that portal and landed in the woods, about an hour west of here," Emma finished the short version of hers and Killian's tale (the long version probably would've taken something like three hours).

"Allow me to make sure I understand," Aragorn said, "you two are from a land where my life and the lives of everyone and Middle Earth are chronicled in a series of books and viewed as fictional tales and stories?"

"Technically we both were born in another realm entirely-" Killian started to say, but Emma cut him off.

"Yes," she said firmly, giving Killian a look that said let's not make things more confusing than necessary. "Yes, in the world we came from, this is all just fiction." Aragorn paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the discord between the two of them before speaking again.

"And your world has no magic; no hobbits, elves, dwarves, or orcs, just men," he continued, "save for a town called Storybrooke?"

"You've got it," Emma confirmed.

"And we would really like to get back to that world," Killian added pointedly.

"We leave in the morning," Aragorn said after a moment of consideration.

"You mean you'll help us?" Emma asked, not wanting to assume anything.

"I will do what I can."

From what Aragorn could tell, they were trustworthy. At least, that was his gut feeling. They had been truthful while spinning their tale, as outlandish and unbelievable as it was. It was ridiculous, what they were saying, but their desire to leave, to return to their home and to their loved ones was true. (Though Aragorn suspected that the man, Killian, cared more about getting back because Emma did. Even if they weren't married like they had told Butterbur, there was something between the two of them, at least on Killian's part.)

He didn't trust them yet, that would be ridiculous, but from what Aragorn could tell, they were not working for the enemy.

At the very least, they knew too much - about him and surely about the Ring - to be left to their own devices. So he kept them in sight the rest of that evening; they were there when Merry returned to the inn with tales of black riders in the streets, they helped Nob disguise the hobbits' room. What had set Aragorn on edge was when Killian asked Emma - not terribly hopefully - about the possibility of her performing an illusionary spell. She must have some kind of magic, he reasoned, though it is impossible for her to be one of the Istari, that simply cannot be. Magic must be different where these two were from. Perhaps her magic was more like that of the elves, he supposed. Regardless, Emma had shaken her head at Killian's suggestion, her lips in a tight line. Aragorn would have to ask them about this magic of hers; if they could be trusted and she truly had magic, they could prove to be valuable assets until they found their way home.

"Emma."

Said blonde rolled over in her sleep and groaned a bit.

"Emma, love, you need to get up," Killian tried again, giving her shoulder a gentle shake.

"Why so early?" Emma whined into her pillow.

"Because Strider says so, Swan, now we need to go," Killian said, going to the window and drawing curtains open, letting the very early sun - god, it was barely dawn - flood the room. "Come on, love."

Grumbling all the while, Emma hauled herself up to a seated position.

"Fine," she said through a yawn, throwing her blanket off and somehow managing to get out of bed. God, she hated mornings.

"I know it's early, love, but would you care to explain a little more about everything that's going on here? I don't like being in the dark," Killian asked while she was digging through her bag (her stolen bag) for her jeans. If she was going to be trekking across the wilderness all the way to Rivendell she sure as hell wasn't doing it in a skirt.

"What do you want to know?" Emma asked, taking her jeans and her shirt behind the changing screen that was set up in the corner of the room.

"These stories that you read, what were they about?"

"That's a bit of a big question," Emma said dryly as she shucked off her skirt - finally - and started pulling on her jeans.

"Alright, what were the things that that little man said were in the streets? Those black riders?" Killian tried again, hoping to get an answer to a more specific question.

"They're called ring wraiths," Emma started to answer. "I- okay, this is going to be a bit of a long answer but it all starts with this jackass, Sauron," she started over. "He was after power, to make a long story short, and to do that he made - well, he only made one of them himself, but thats beside the point - these magical rings that gave power to the people that wore them, but they were - I guess cursed would be the best way to put it," she explained as best as she could. "There were nine humans who took rings from him and it twisted them, turned them into these monsters, the ring wraiths, and now they're serving Sauron and trying to get the ring that Frodo's got. I don't know, Aragorn - Strider - tells this story way better than I do," she cut herself off, shrugging on her shirt and coming back out from behind the screen.

"What about Strider, then? He seems to be a bit of a grumpy bast-"

"Oh come on, Hook, he's just cautious," Emma said, shrugging on her shirt and coming back out from behind the screen. "He's a ranger, him and his people are descendent from ancient humans and elves in this world and they're good people. Plus he's a great swordsman and could track a fruit fly in the dark," she added.

Killian quirked an eyebrow at that. I'll believe that when I see it, he thought to himself.

Finally, Emma was ready to go and the pair of them made their way downstairs to the dining room. They ate a simple and quick breakfast with Strider and the hobbits and they were on their way. (After buying themselves a pony from a really distasteful man called Ferny.)

They had hardly gone more than a mile when Emma started realizing that this was going to be one hell of a day - damn, it was going to be one hell of a week, maybe even a month, who knew when they would figure out a way to get back to Storybrooke? She and Killian were stuck in Middle Fucking Earth for the unforeseeable future, with no leads, no clues, no fucking idea how to get back home. Emma started to feel despair filling her heart but she stubbornly fought it back. Despair wasn't going to help her now. She just had to keep a strong face, keep her head, and with any luck, she and Killian would be back in Storybrooke before they knew it.

Right?

Maybe.

Emma didn't know what she was going to do. Her plan ended with asking Gandalf and Elrond for help. She didn't have a fucking clue what to do about this. All her knowledge about portals and whatever came from the Enchanted Forest; there weren't any magic beans here, no dark curses, no enchanted pirate ships. She and Killian were up a goddamned creek and by creek she was pretty sure she meant rapids. Looking over at Killian, where he was walking ahead of her and indulging the hobbits and their endless stream of questions, Emma couldn't help the soft smile that grew upon her lips. She was glad to have someone with her, at least, someone she could trust to watch her back in this unfamiliar territory. When she first met him, she never would have thought that this would happen - never thought that she'd trust Captain Fucking Hook with her life - and yet here they were.

Their first night on the road, Emma found herself unable to sleep thanks to the combination of blisters on her feet, soreness in her muscles, and rocky ground beneath her. She managed to get about an hour of sleep thanks to pure fatigue, but voices around the fire had woken her up again.

"Who is she? This woman you sing of?" Emma overheard Frodo asking Aragorn.

"It is the Lay of Lúthien," the man told him, "an elf woman who gave her love to Beren, a mortal."

Tolkien really loved his parallels, Emma thought to herself.

"Get some rest, Frodo," Aragorn told the hobbit, and he followed directions, rolling back over in his bedroll and closing his eyes once more, letting sleep claim him.

Emma however, couldn't get back to sleep, so instead she got up and went to go sit by Aragorn.

"How is she?" she asked as she approached him, "Arwen, I mean," she clarified.

"You truly do know everything about our lives," Aragorn remarked, shaking his head though Emma caught a hint of a smile on his face. "She is well, as far as I know," he answered her question.

"I always liked her character," Emma mused. "The books said that she was beautiful," she remarked, and Aragorn's smile told her that Tolkien hadn't been lying about that.

"Is it true that you mistook her for Lúthien the first time you met her?" Emma asked curiously.

"Aye," Aragorn admitted, "she is truly the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon. I love her dearly."

"I can tell," Emma told him. His words rang true the whole time he spoke about the elf woman. The ranger and the savior's conversation lapsed into silence for a few moments, the both of them staring into the fire, though Aragorn's ears were tuned into their surroundings and his gaze was constantly darting up from the fire to keep an eye on things. He found himself tempted to ask about Emma's relationship with Killian, but held his tongue. That wasn't his business.

"How do you think that you and Jones ended up here instead of where you expected?" he asked instead, a question that had been bothering him for awhile since it had occurred to him that afternoon.

"I-" Emma started to answer, but cut herself off. "I don't know," she said.

A beat.

"I guess," she started to continue, "I guess I had been thinking about the books I read as a kid. When things got rough, I turned to these books, to this story. I guess it was a coping mechanism for me. But I was thinking about this story when the portal opened and I guess that was enough to throw it off," she speculated. Aragorn nodded in understanding.

"You should try to get some sleep," he said after a few more moments of silence.

Emma sighed inwardly. He was right. She should at least try, otherwise she'd be damn miserable in the morning. With a shrug, she returned to her bedroll and closed her eyes, attempting to clear her mind and let the evening air lull her to sleep.

"Give it back, Ben!" a ten-year-old Emma Swan shouted for all she was worth at Ben Zimmerman, who had in his hand her borrowed (stolen) paperback copy of The Hobbit. She'd been reading under one of the trees by the monkey bars at recess when he and his dumb friends had decided to go pick on the new girl.

"Why don't you come take it back, loser?" he taunted, and the ten-year-old girl practically snarled, jumping on the boy who was significantly taller than her, scratching at his arms as he held the book up over her head. She kicked at his shins, tried to knock him down, and he and his friends laughed at her, laughed at the tiny blonde foster kid, the tiny blonde new girl.

Emma tried to kick Ben in the balls, something she'd learned from older girls she'd met in group homes, and she missed, but not by much. Her kick to his pelvis was enough to make him stumble back, snarling at her. Emma made to run at him, but before she could get to him, he had ripped the fragile paperback down the spine.

Emma went to rip him limb from limb, but it wasn't Ben Zimmerman anymore. It was Lily. Lily Fucking Page. The girl who had been her friend, who had rekindled Emma's hope for belonging, for happiness, until she liedto her, snuffing out that spark like a wet blanket. Lily laughed at her, picking up the remains of the book only to toss them aside, landing in a puddle. Emma darted to the puddle to try to save it - she wasn't ten years old anymore, she had glasses, her hair was in a ponytail, she had the leather jacket she won in a bet against Ally Henson - but as she reached for it, a boot-clad foot came down on top of it, splashing Emma in the face.

Wiping the rancid water away with her sleeve, Emma looked up to see Neal. The man who had shown her love, who she had loved once, only for him to leave her alone, leave her to take the fall for his own damn crimes, knocked up at the age of seventeen. Emma got to her feet - she noticed that she felt more like herself now, at her full hight, her red leather armor on her shoulders - and she drew back her right arm to punch the bastard in the face, only to hear her name being called from far away.

"Emma," the accented voice said, and it was familiar, but she couldn't tell why. She stopped, mid-swing, and turned to try to figure out where it had come from.

"Emma," the voice called again, and now she recognized it as Hook's, but she couldn't find him anywhere.

"Hook?" she called, confused.

"Emma!" he said her name again, and this time, she felt someone shake her shoulder. Emma turned around, her blonde curls whipping around her head, but no one was there.

"Emma, come on," Hook's disembodied voice said again.

"Hook? Where are you? I don't-"

With another shake of her shoulder, Emma startled awake, sitting bolt upright and alert. It was still dark and her frantic eyes darted around until she found Killian kneeling beside her.

"You were just dreaming, love," Killian insisted, his eyes somehow kind. "You were tossing and turning and Strider means to wake us all at dawn anyway," he explained himself. Emma nodded in understanding, not wanting to give away anything about her dream. The last thing she needed was to retell the stories of her shitty bullies when she was a kid.

"Thanks," she said, genuinely grateful to him for waking her from the unpleasant dream. "Did I wake anyone else?" she asked a bit worriedly. Killian shook his head.

"No, the hobbits sleep like rocks," he said, turning to look at the four slumbering figures around the fire. "Would you like assistance packing up your bedroll?" he asked, turning back to Emma. She shook her head.

"I've got it, why don't you ask Strider if there's anything we can do before we hit the road," she suggested, and with a nod, Killian went off to talk to Aragorn and Emma turned to her messy bedroll.

We need to find a way home.

Thoughts? Did I do it justice? Is this something that I should keep going with? Let me know in a review! Thanks for reading! Natalie out.