Disclaimer- i do not own anything, especially not the character of Ereinion Gil-galad. I only own coppies of the books mentioned in this chapter. Anything that bares any resemblance to Tolkein, probably is. Please don't sue as i have nothing for you to sue for. THis disclaim will last for all the chapters as i generally forget to write one so it is easier and more reliable to put one for the entire story in the first chapter.

CHAPTER 1

Crack!

I swore in shock as there was a loud cracking sound.

I had been sitting on one of the more remote lawns of university campus, quietly enjoying in the sunlight of late spring and the fact I had recently had my last exam for the year.

That loud noise, like a car backfiring, was the last thing I had been expecting, or so I thought.

Something had also happened to the light, but I could not rightly tell you what as I had shut my eyes when I had flinched back from the noise.

When I did open my eyes, I spotted something very strange.

Lying in front of me was a tall, long haired man in medieval clothing.

I have no idea how he got there as I was sitting in the middle of a field and there was no way he could have sneaked up and suddenly have been there in the micro-second or two in which I closed my eyes.

There was another factor to consider though.

He looked only semi-conscious and was clearly wounded, though probably not that badly.

I moved over to him to see him set his slightly unfocussed eyes on me.

He asked me something in a language that I not only failed to understand, but also failed to recognise. This is rare for me because, though I am absolutely useless at speaking most languages including my own at times, I can at least semi-recognise most major languages.

"Do you understand me when I speak in this language?" I asked him.

He blinked at me several times, I think trying to comprehend his situation before answering.

"Yes, My Lady, where am I?" He did look thoroughly confused, poor person.

"University of Kent campus, Canterbury, England." He looked at me blankly. "You have no idea where that is, do you?" He shakes his head. "Where do you come from and where were you before you ended up here?" He pauses before answering.

"I call Lindon my home, Lady, and it was not far from there that I was attacked with my companions as we checked the border guard." At this point I began to have suspicions. The guy had literally materialised out of thin air and he was dressed in early medieval clothing that was far too accurate, not to mention well made, for a modern replica. I had also noticed the presence of some serious weapons attached to him.

If you are wondering, I am both a Tolkien buff and have a rather disturbing interest in weapons, all weapons, though I prefer the cut and slash medieval weapons simply because they are cool. I am also fairly fond of fanfictions, though not obsessive.

"May I enquire as to your name?" Yes, his slightly archaic speech had rubbed off already.

"I am known as Ereinion Gil-galad of the Noldor, Lady, and may I also enquire the same of you?" I felt a sinking feeling, but managed to cover it enough to respond.

"I am known simply as Mari." I gave him a look as I considered what to do with him.

As luck would have it, I am one of the few students to have my own house. In my last year of school, my family died in one of those tragedies that sometimes happens. As soon as I had finished school, I sold up my parent's house and bought a smaller one in the town I was going to university in and had started up there.

Despite the fact I missed my family, I did rather well out of their death. Because I counted as an independent with no means of support, I got a large grant rather than a loan for both my fees at university and maintenance and, since I didn't have to pay rent like my fellow students, the maintenance grant was actually enough to support me when combined with a Saturday job.

Ah, good old socialist Britain. I'm a Tory (Conservative) all the same though.

Back to the story...

I decided to take my elf-lord back to my house, which could conveniently be reached through the fields in which I was sitting in without going near anywhere very populated and so could get him there, with weapons and injuries, without anyone seeing us and getting suspicious.

I still went in the back door though.

When I got in, I sat him down on a chair in my kitchen, and got the first aid kit as well as a sponge and some surgical spirit to clean anything that may have needed cleaning.

He seemed rather embarrassed to take his shirt off, but wisely decided not to argue with me. My mother had been a teacher and I had picked up a fair number of her people-control tricks over the years.

While I was patching him up, he began asking inconvenient questions.

"Lady, do you know of Lindon?" and similar things. While I was making sure he didn't do anything too major to himself with those injuries, I could evade answering him but as I finished, some sort of explanation was required.

"Stay here, I'm just going to get something; it will help you understand, I promise." I rushed off to one of my bookshelves and pulled out my copies of both the Silmarillion and the Children of Hurin before returning.

"Right, these books are written by a man named Tolkien and are generally considered fantasy in all of my people's known world. I think the contents of them will be familiar to you though. These are not the only books set in that world but, for reasons I will explain when you have looked at those books, I thought it unadvisable for you to look at those other books. Now you look at those while I cook dinner." I left him sitting on the chair, leaning on a counter reading the books as I got the food out and began preparing it.

At first he read slowly, but soon his movements became frantic and he flicked through the pages of the Silmarillion, getting whiter by the page. He then put that book down, very pale, and picked up the Children of Hurin and began skimming that, though more calmly as I think the title gave him more warning of content than with the other volume.

It was only when I had put the chicken fillets on to cook, about half an hour later, when he finally began to talk.

"Lady, how is it you have books of my world, but only consider them fantasy? And what are these other books you thought a bad idea to show me? Why would it be bad for me to see them?"

"I don't know how Tolkien knew about your world and wrote it down, but he did and made much money from selling the books of the stories of Arda. The other books are ones later in the time line of Arda and I am pretty certain that those books are set rather after what every point your have dropped here from. Those books are actually the most famous and popular books, the ones I have given you are more companion books for those who hold great interest in Arda and what is given in those other books is not enough to fulfil their interest in Arda."

He looks at me speculatively for a while.

"I take, that by your possession of these volumes, that you are one of such people."

I look at him, a little embarrassed.

"Not nearly as much as many others, I have to admit that I have never got far into the either. There are other ways for me to find out what I needed without trawling through the rather archaic and tedious way of writing used particularly in the Silmarillion. I have never been a fan of the style of writing used in ancient epic, it irritates me."

He laughs at that, I think he might agree with me.

"I confess I do not enjoy reading epics, though they are much more entertaining to have recited by bards." I smile, lucky sod – he has actually got to hear epics as they were supposed to be told. I enjoy studying history and ancient, particularly the classical civilisations and would love to hear a recitation of one of the great epics. I'm absolutely certain that would make the Iliad much easier to study than reading the whole lot.

It is only shortly after I have served up dinner (chicken in cream and white wine sauce, rosemary sauté potatoes and buttered fresh runner beans, yes I do like to cook) that we got back to being properly serious and talking about his situation here.

"I am unsure what to do, Lady. I have no idea how I came to be here, or how to get back to my people. I have no idea what I am going to do here or what." He looks at me helplessly, poor guy. I have been lost a few times, but never in quite the situation he is. I would be terrified if I were him.

"For as long as you are here, I will look after you. This house is mine alone and is big enough to accommodate another. I am not going to leave you out high and dry. After all, it is not often a girl gets the opportunity to host a character from her favourite story in her house!"

He smiles wanly at the attempt at lightening the mood.

"I thank you, Lady, I am most grateful for you offer of assistance. I will endeavour to return the favour as much as possible."

"That would be appreciated. First things first though, tomorrow I will have to take you out to get some clothes suitable to the local area, what you are wearing right now would stick out like a sore thumb. I think I have enough men's clothing to get you by for when we go to get you some more, but that is about all."

He seems curious that, since I live at home on my own, I have men's clothing at all.

Oh well.

The next morning I take him into town. I immediately make for those shops that do reasonably priced, but still fairly cheap, hard-wearing clothing. It is not very well cut, but I am a student and there is a limit to my budget, so no designer fashion for even a High King. Not if I'm paying anyway.

Throughout the shopping trip, I have a whispered monologue going, explaining to Ereinion (as he insists I call him. I don't object, Gil-galad might raise a few eyebrows, but Ereinion is one name from Tolkien you have to be really obsessed to know) everything about the world he has found himself in and is clearly rather scared of.

He doesn't like that I would not let him take any weapons with him and instead of letting him braid his hair back and revealing his pointed ears, I had pulled it back into a loose ponytail that very deliberately covered his ears.

He still drew multiple admiring glances as we walked along though. He was tall, absolutely gorgeous, and had the sparkling blue eyes that had resulted in him having been given the name Gil-galad in the first place.

I have to admit I found him attractive just as much as everyone else apparently did, but I just kept my appreciation well hidden.

When we get back he turns to me.

"Are all around here so open-faced? The appreciation of many of the people I saw today made me decidedly uncomfortable. Will that happen every time I go somewhere public?"

I grin, and as I answer him I give him one of those long up and down appreciative looks that is really obvious.

"You are extraordinarily good looking, very few would be able to hide the fact that they had noticed you physique favourably."

He goes pink; I don't think he is ready for 21st century boldness. Suddenly he grins wickedly at me and steps very close to me, looking down predatorily.

"Do you also find my body enjoyable to look at, Lady Mari?" It is the first time he has used my name at all and his tone is suggestive. It is my turn to blush pink.

"I have seen worse, much worse, though I cannot think anyone I have seen that beats or even equals your spectacular appearance, to be honest." Well, honesty is the best policy as they say, even if it was a bit of a long winded way of putting it.

He smiles warmly at me, with a slightly possessive look about him.

He touches my cheek gently before smiling enigmatically at me again and striding off to the sitting room.

What the hell was that about?

After that he takes to wondering round the house shirtless and seems to find the fact that I find it very distracting highly amusing.

This High King has a very warped sense of humour I have decided.