1) All disclaimers apply: The Hobbit, The Silmarillion and all related work were the property of The Good Professor and presently belongs to The Tolkien Estate. Kantai Collection belongs to Kadokawa Games/DMM. I own little more than the words I write.

2) Show of hand: Who could guess I'd be up for something like this after a month full of Kancolle material?

... probably everyone.

This is mainly an exercise in crack, scenario-building, and Magical Sparkly Shipgirl BS among Magical Fireworky Istari BS (And Magical Ring-y Maiar/Noldor BS). Expect snippets and crack treated semi-seriously - the "semi" part is only out of respect for Tolkien's works.

Still. Crack. You've been warned.

PART THE FIRST
IN WHICH ESTEL PLAYED GUARDIAN OF RIVENDELL

When it began, Aragorn son of Arathorn, the Man who would one day reunite Arnor and Gondor and usher in the dominion of Man, was but a little boy.

In the immortal words of a certain sage, young Aragorn was an extraordinary boy in many ways, and not entirely because of his destiny. He was as sharp as the keenest of the Dunedain who descended from Numenor of yore; the flame of the West burnt in him fiercely, as did the hope vested into him by his House and his name - Estel he was known among the Elves who fostered him for that reason also.

But he was still a boy, and being a boy meant naturally not privy to matters of great importance of Eriador and Arda. He did not know, for instance, that a very large plot of land where the old land of Rhudaur met the river Mitheithel had been lost forever, in the literal sense of the world. He did not know that a very strange compound just a little less than a mile square had now replaced said plot of land, swapping lush green trees with towering monstrosities of steel and the forest floor with tiling of black tar. He did not know that newcomers had come to Middle-earth, bearing fear and hroar not entirely unlike the children of Iluvatar, yet fundamentally different in several ways.

He did not know that Middle-earth was going to change forever.

What he did know, however, was running into a quad of oddly-dressed and oddly-mannered young women in the forest one day.

Well, run into wasn't exactly right, if only because he saw them long before they saw him; and it wasn't entirely because of how well he was hiding in the woods (although Aragorn would say he was quite good at it too.)

Aragorn had been minding his own business as a merry child brought up by the High Elves, and that meant there was nowhere around Imladris he had not walked. The woods there was old and sacred and well-watched by things most bright and most ancient, and safe for those beloved by the Eldar. More importantly, those woods were home, and one thing Aragorn had learnt very early on in his life was that home was something you should get to know, no matter how large or primordial it was.

It was a beautiful Spring afternoon. The sun was about to set, and the forest around Imladris was glazed golden. Aragorn was walking beneath the boughs of his home, making merry in his own way while waiting for the sun to set and his many friends among the Eldar to pluck their harps under the open, star-lit dome.

Imagine the surprise young Aragorn had got when he found out those woods were no longer just his to walk or just the elves' to watch! He was climbing atop a tall tree – Uncle Halbarad had taught him, and Master Elrohir had given him tips both helpful and plentiful – when he saw them: A group of four girls treading on the forest floor upon which none would walk but elves and elf-friends.

Naturally, Aragorn's first reaction was to run back to Lord Elrond's side and ring an alarm: the Dunedain had lived all their lives in great caution and watchfulness, and not even a child was exempt.

But something stayed his feet. There the girls were walking, flustered and frustrated, amidst the verdant boughs, walking around and around and around some more. In fact, it seemed to him they'd never been in the wilds before. Those clothes of theirs were impractically baggy and those skirts way too fragile. The branches and leaves cracked and rustled beneath their heavy treads. And most importantly – Aragorn found out after but ten minutes of silent observation – they'd been spending a while now essentially walking in circles though their own track in the dirt had been embarrassingly clear.

It wasn't long before the lost girls' frustration bubbled to a head. The girl walking third in the line, brown-haired and pouting, spoke first. But not before a very, very long sigh.

"We're lost again, Ikazuki?" she said. "Inazuma told you so, nanodesu."

The girl at the front shuddered. Her nose seemed pressed onto the pages of an oddly thin notebook; her ginger hair hid every other feature of her face from sight.

"J-just wait for a minute now! I-I think I've got it down right here..." Now she lowered the notebook and pointed... at nothing in particular. "A-all right, let's just turn right here and... and see where it would get us!"

The brown-haired girl stared at her. "Are you sure, nanodesu?"

"Why... wouldn't you trust me for a change, Inazuma?"

"You did tell us to depend on you. That was..." said the girl whose hair was flowing silvery-white. Her voice was surprisingly unemotive. "...not khorosho."

"Augh!" cried the blue-haired – blue-haired! girl. "I've- I've got dirt on my skirt!" She dusted the hem of her skirt. "This... this isn't elegant at all!"

They went on bickering for five minutes straight. It would have been quite humourous, had the circumstances been kinder.

An older Aragorn would have taken pity and led them out of the forest – or at least try to. But now he was a boy of ten. His curiosity took precedence over the kindness of his House, and he would not have wanted to leave questions unanswered at any rate – because the Rangers of the North would not leave questions unanswered if they could help it.

At the very least, he told himself, he had been kind enough. He hadn't laugh at their borderline incompetent sense of direction in the wilds, which was more than could have been said for Elladan and Elrohir and some of the jollier elves in the Last Homely House.

So Aragorn trailed behind the quad with little thought. He swept behind them, his feet were light on the forest floor, more craftily and quietly than most ten-year-old boys could have and while his was nowhere as silent as an elf's tread those girls were making far too much noise to notice. Even the vague sense of danger of such an act did not deter him much: for he had with him a short bow and a hunting knife, and with Elladan and Elrohir as masters he had had more than a ten-year-old's fair share of training.

But it was finally the brunette who gave up first. "We should radio base, nanodesu." She threw her arm in the air... and caught her sleeve on a snag. "Hawawawa!"

Blue Hair shuffled in place. "Augh, this is so unladylike!" she said. But then all of a sudden she froze in place. "Wait. Did you hear that?"

"Hear... what?" said Ginger Hair. "Come on, Akatsuki! There aren't supposed to be any Abyssals on land, are there?" She paused. "Are there?"

"Not that we know of," said Silver Hair.

"Now, now, a lady has to be careful of all things!" Now Blue Hair's voice was dreadfully serious. "They can fabricaticize out of anywhere!" Aragorn could hear his heart thump.

"You mean materialize," said Silver Hair. "But... Akatsuki is right. Ikazuki, Inazuma. Prepare yourselves."

Then Aragorn stared at Silver Hair and saw for himself some distinctly unpleasant thing. Or rather, something that could be distinctly unpleasant. Tubes appeared in her grip. Large contraptions emerged from their back, angular and oddly-shaped. Her eyes narrowed, and Aragorn shuddered.

Then came blue, orange and ginger. Without a word they formed up into a square. Four arms rose, and with them the dangerous-looking tubes they brandished.

At that precise moment Aragorn was not sure which was chiefest in his mind: fear or curiosity. He had never quite seen anything so strange yet so vaguely threatening before. He debated with himself what he should do: to run, to hide, or to stay and see how events would unfold.

In the end, he chose the last option. His reasoning was, for a ten-year-old, understandable. The chiefest lesson the Eldar had imparted upon him was that beautiful things could not have been made by the Shadow, for that which it touched were always misshapen and foul. At the same time, sophisticated and angular things made of steel were to be treated with some measures of distrust.

Then a thought sparked to him. If they'd been so anxious and nervous in the first place, surely he could drive them off without a fight, could he? Yes, indeed, Lord Elrond would be proud of him, for he had always taught wisdom and peace to all who belonged not with the Shadow, hadn't he?

So thinking, young Aragorn puffed his chest. Up an old tree he climbed, and made his way to a vantage point, hidden among the leaves.

"You trespass on sacred ground, o strangers of steel!" he cried, and was proud of himself: his voice was not kingly, not yet, but there was authority and no trace of hesitation. "In the name of Lord Elrond Peredhel Earendilion Master of the Last Homely House, I bid you leave! Tarry no more in our land and your transgression shall yet be forgiven; proceed and grave evils shall surely befall you!"

"Uwawawa!" cried Brown Hair. "What... what is that, nanodesu?"

"A voice," said White Hair matter-of-factly.

"A-a-a-a ghost?" exclaimed Blue Hair.

"Not impossible," said White Hair. "Miss Nagato did tell us to watch out for... weird things in these woods."

"D-don't scare me like that, Hibiki!" snapped Blue Hair. "T-that's so unladylike and-"

"I am merely stating what we had been told."

"Um..." said Brown Hair. "M-maybe it would be good to be careful, nanodesu!"

The quad stared at each other for what seemed like an age and a half, and it was all Aragorn could do not to breathe so hard. Finally Brown Hair stepped forward, dusted her sleeve and clasped her hands.

"Um... We- we're sorry, Mr. Ghost, nanodesu," she said. "It's not like we wanted to be here or anything, nanodesu. We-we're just sort of-"

"Yeah, well, guess we're lost," said Ginger Hair. She puffed her chest... only for the facade of bravery to crack and shatter. "S-so, uh... c-could you please please please tell us how to leave this forest? Or... or where's the nearest path to wherever! B-because..."

"You admitted," interjected White Hair.

"H-hey! No fair, Hibiki! I'm j-just-"

This was the part where every inch of self-control in Aragorn was summoned to not blurt out in laughter. "Surely you want to leave?" he asked.

"Y-yes!"

Aragorn puffed his chest. "Well, then, perhaps I can help you with it-" he said, and was rightly so proud of himself.

But young Aragorn, being young and therefore careless, had forgotten two important things.

One, Master Elrohir had told him – more than once – never to stay on any branch longer than was absolutely necessary.

And two, this particular branch of this particular old tree was very, very ancient and very, very thin.

The next thing Aragorn heard were two: His heart stopping, and the distinct sound of wood snapping.

He plunged ten feet down right on top of a very unfortunate bush that happened to be in the way. On instinct he'd flipped and turned and crossed his arms over his face. It could only help so much: young Aragorn heard a thud and at once felt a lot of pain all over as he crashed face-down into the bush.

What happened in the next few minutes was a bit blurry. Pain. Gasps. Pain. Footsteps. More pain. Some shouting.

There was the sound of leaves and foliage being rustled over. And amidst the commotion, there was this one voice he could hear.

"Hueeh?" it said: so clear and so dangerously close. "A-a boy, nanodesu?"