DISCLAIMER: umm...yeah, if I owned Lord of the Rings, I wouldn't be posting on here. So please don't sue me. I've grown attached to my cardboard box. I even decorated it.

Author's note: it's my first fic, so be nice in your reviews please! I do, however, appreciate constructive criticism.

"Ooooh. Not good."

Slowly, I scanned my new surroundings.

No longer was I in my comfy car coming back from a friend's house to my home on the outskirts of Atlanta, the windows down as the wind blew through my hair and my Linkin Park CD turned all the way up.

Now I was standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking an ocean so turbulent that it sent spray up to meet me as it crashed on the edge of the rocks. A strong wind whipped my short brown hair around me. White peaked mountains rose steep in the distant background, a sharp contrast to the stormy skies above.

I was lost, alone, and had no idea how to get home, where I was, or even how I'd gotten there in the first place.

Then again, I was no longer heading straight into an oncoming Semi whose drunk driver had swerved into my lane.

All in all, I think it was an improvement.

A hand grabbed my shoulder.

I whirled around, emitting a high-pitched girly shriek that I would never had lived down had any of my friends been there to hear.

"Who are you, witch, that you have invaded my dreams and brought me to this place," snapped the man who'd grabbed me.

I'D invaded HIS dreams?

I crossed my arms and leaned back, regarding him warily.

"I might ask the same of you. YOU were here first, ergo YOU brought ME here."

"I asked first," he snapped back.

"I made a better point," I retorted, my eyebrow rising in challenge.

"I have a sword."

I surveyed him warily. He was dressed strangely, resembling a medieval hunter, and did indeed have a wicked looking sword strapped to his side. "Touché," I replied calmly, my lip twitching in bemusement. "My name is Rose, I'm not a witch, and I didn't bring either of us here. Your turn."

He regarded me for a moment, his grey eyes keen with intelligence. Finally, he bowed, which had my eyebrow (which had come down from before) shooting up again.

"I am called Strider, my lady Rose."

The other eyebrow joined the first.

Suddenly, it all made sense. This man obviously thought he was Aragorn from Lord of the Rings, and was acting accordingly, down to the British accent and ranger outfit.

Great, there really IS no escape from the crazies.

I cocked my head to the side.

"If you get to be Aragorn, then I call dibs on Galadriel."

He looked at me in confusion, to focused on the first part of my comment to be insulted by the last.

"You know of me?"

"I've read the books and seen the movies. You've got good taste, I'll give you that. I knew a guy who thought he was Gollum." I made a moue with my lips. "He went so far as to dress in a loincloth and throw himself off a mountain pretending it was Mount Doom." I shrugged. "It was only after that that we realized his tree didn't go all the way to the top branch, if you know what I mean."

He stared at me, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Indeed," he said slowly. He was looking at me like I was the crazy one.

How ironic.

"Oh, no you don't," I said, waggling a finger at him. "You're certifiable. YOU don't get to look at me like I'm crazy. I'm not the one dressed like I'm from Middle Earth."

His eyes widened. He hastily gathered his wits about him again though, and gave me a look of confusion.

"Middle Earth being the fictional universe created by J.R.R. Tolkien," I elaborated.

Still the blank look.

"Aragorn was from Middle Earth," I said, giving him more hints.

"Milady, I well know what Middle Earth is. I'm from it," he said, his voice tinged with amusement as his eyebrows rose.

"Everyone knows Middle Earth doesn't exist," I told the eyebrows.

They looked at me like I was crazy.

"If Middle Earth doesn't exist," he said, his eyes laughing with amusement, "and you're not a figment of my imagination, nor a witch -- neither of which I'm completely sure you AREN'T --, then where are you from?"

"Earth in the year 2006, where the other relatively sane people are from," I retorted, putting my hands on my hips.

"Well, your accent IS unlike any I've ever heard." He cocked his head to the side, regarding me curiously. "You speak slower, more of a drawl."

My eye twitched.

"Which is why it's called a Georgia Southern Drawl. I'm from Georgia. It's how we talk," I said, purposefully letting loose my full, rich accent onto each word until it came out. I barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes. I let my accent drop back to normal. "It's the heat in the south. It makes everything go slower, including our speech. Every state has its own accent and if you are used to southern drawls, you can tell which state someone is from simply by how they speak." I shrugged.

He nodded. "Things are much the same in Middle Earth."

I grinned. "So you believe me now?"

He nodded again, though with a smile. "It was the heavy accent that did it. I can't imagine recreating that."

I winked at him. "Not sure if I was just complimented or insulted, but I'll give you credit for the compliment."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I never did find out what he wanted to say next. At that moment, the earth started shaking so violently that I was thrown against him (didn't even step back, the bastard. I mean, I know he's 6'4 at the very least and I'm only 5'4, but he still could have had the decency to PRETEND like it hurt). He caught me and we stood there for a moment, looking around, our eyes wide in surprise.

"Eeeeeeeeek! It's an earthquake!" He looked at me like I'd grown two heads when I clung to him in fear.

Maybe the look was justified though, since I was all but climbing up his body to get off the ground.

"I've never been through an earthquake. They just don't happen in Georgia! What do we do? Something about doorframes."

He was trying (unsuccessfully) to pry me off of him when the earth lurched so violently that it sent the both of us tumbling backward.

Something told me that we wouldn't be hitting the ground in the same place we'd fallen.