Disclaimer: Lord Of The Rings belongs to Tolkien. The Chronicles of Narnia belongs to Lewis. I only borrow.

Author's Note: Yes indeedy, I have started a new story. It has been a few months in the making. This is very different from anything I've done before - not in the sense that it's a crossover, but how I've chosen to write it. This story spans through the events of Lord of the Rings, yes. But it does so only in the sense that it offers a look at all the "missing scenes" if you may. Not that all the chapters in this story are missing scenes, but it focuses on the stuff we don't see in the movies. The reason for this is that I think a lot of stories have been written to follow scenes from the books and movies. And especially a lot of Narnia/LOTR crossovers. Perhaps because the books compliment each other so spectacularly and because the Narnia universe is left open for enterpretation where LOTR is not.

Consider this a teaser. I'm on my 45 chapter now and writing has slowed down a little so I'm going to be updating a little slower just so I can keep the backlog of publishable chapters :) Happy reading and tell me what you think of it.

Ages: Lucy is 15 (31 in Narnian years), Edmund is 17 (33 in Narnian years), Susan is 19 (35 in Narnian years) and Peter is 20 (36 in Narnian years).

"There are many powers in the world, for good or for evil. Some are greater than I am. Against some I have not yet been measured. But my time is coming." - Gandalf the Grey

The Other World

First Book: Fellowship of the Ring…

Chapter 1 – Landing in Stranger Places

Later on Susan would remember everything as clear as daylight. She would remember the car and the damage it caused upon collision with her body. Bones snapping and blood vessels bursting. She would remember the days she spent in a coma, alone in an American hospital. She would vividly recall how it felt to be sucked through a pin-size hole into another world and the rush of excitement when she first arrived. She thought it was Narnia.

She was horribly wrong.

All around her, the forest was alive. It was chilly, but not quite cold. She could hear water babbling not far from her prone position. She shifted her legs and flexed her fingers carefully. The smell of wet soil and greens was almost overwhelming. She only had a fuzzy recollection of what had happened. The vague image of something large heading straight for her before it all turned hazy. She had been in America; that much she knew. Her family had been in England and she had discovered a new level of loneliness. And then something had happened. She did not yet know exactly what it was, but knew she needed to find out, and fast. She tried her legs again and opened her eyes.

It was indeed a forest. Tall, grey trees rose high above her. They looked like birches, but not. Like something not of her world. "Oh dear," It struck her suddenly that this could very well not be her world. She looked around, but didn't recognize anything immediately. It didn't alarm her as much as she would've thought. She slowly gathered her feet under her and discovered she was still wearing the navy blue heels and the light blue party dress, paid for with the money her mother sent over three weeks before. It was now caked in dirt. She frowned delicately, but quickly disregarded it in favor of another look at her surroundings.

They were stunning. She couldn't help but smile when a bird chirped nearby. She stood up and straightened her back with an audible crack. A deep sigh echoed through the trees. Maybe she had landed wrong? She wasn't quite as confused by her own disorientation any more. She realized quite clearly that she was in Narnia. But it did strike her as odd since Aslan had said that her and Peter could never again return. Perhaps something dire had happened that required their help? But what? What in Narnia could not be handled by the Great Lion himself? So perhaps this wasn't her old home? She took a second look. Things could have changed dramatically since her last visit. The geography could have altered beyond anything she'd be able to recognize.

Then she realized something even more disturbing. Because, remember that despite her love for Narnia, she had just had a very traumatic experience. She had been in a terrible accident, plucked from one world and then sucked into another. And if it wasn't her old home, then there was only one other place she could think of. Aslan's country. The final haven for those who died with light in their hearts. She liked to think she was worthy of seeing Aslan's country, or at least unworthy of going to hell. She remembered her history lessons in Narnia with a sinking feeling.

This could mean only one thing: She was dead. It felt like a lead weight settling on her chest. Her eyes watered and she sank to her knees. Suddenly it all seemed so overwhelming.

After the moment of upheaval, her emotions simmered down to a thick sadness. She was to spend Aslan only knew how many years without her siblings. They were alive and she wasn't. But something changed. Something inside her hardened. Then and there, in the solitude of the forest, she vowed she wouldn't mourn her loss until her siblings were returned to her. She would remain Susan the Gentle; kind, loving, quiet. One thing she had learned from England: Women were supposed to be seen, not heard. Something she had begrudgingly taken to heart after years of failed attempts to speak her mind in the presence of men.

After wiping her cheeks, she took off her shoes and started walking towards the sound of water. She reached a beautiful river, carving through the deep forest. It was so serene and she could almost feel something guide her. But despite the soothing presence, and despite her best attempts to stop, she was still thinking about her siblings. It was the knowledge that they were still alive and that it would probably be decades before she would see them again. The knowledge that she had left them a second time. She knew they would never stop loving her, but did they still know she loved them?

She wondered sadly what they would say. How they would react to news of her death. They would cry, of course, but would they realize where she had gone? Would Lucy assure her older brothers that they shouldn't weep; that their beloved sister had only returned home and would be waiting for them? She hoped so.

With slow and slightly uneasy steps she followed the river. The black soil squeezed up between her toes, but she didn't much mind. A white arch caught her attention. She had found a bridge. It didn't look Narnian, but was still very beautiful. It looked almost like something out of a fairytale. She stopped, unsure of what to do when she heard voices and saw bodies close by. She was awkwardly conscious of her own appearance. The voices gained in strength and she took a deep breath. She was a queen after all and if this was truly Aslan's country they would surely recognize her. She was in no danger. This was the mantra she whispered as she squared her shoulders and stepped forward to greet the travelers. The second they spotted her, all stopped. It was a party of four. A tall man, and, what looked like, three children. And a snow-white pony.

She suddenly forgot what she was going to say and was left standing with her mouth open. Luckily one of the children spoke up. "Can we help you, madam?" He had a pleasantly lilting accent and red, curly hair. She looked closer and realized he was no child. He had the face of a man. All three little ones did. She became even more confused. Were they dwarves?

"Is everything alright, milady?" the tall, dark stranger asked with genuine concern. He seemed the trustworthy sort.

"Are you lost?" one of the other little ones asked. This one had blond hair and melancholic eyes.

"Quite," she confessed with a very weak smile.

"Are you an elf?" the third, little one asked in awe.

Susan frowned, thinking he thought her to be short and bearded – which was how elves looked in her world, if you remember. "No." Her voice was a little more indignant than she meant and the one who spoke up quickly looked chastised. She immediately felt bad for shouting and took another cleansing breath. "No. I am Queen Susan the Gentle." Her voice managed to exude tranquility as it had during her reign.

"Who?" the little one asked again.

She frowned. Did they not know their Narnian kings and queens of old? Perhaps they just didn't know their Narnian history.

"I do not believe I'm familiar with that name or title, milady." the tall, dark, handsome one answered. Estel looked at the strange woman. For she was no elf, though she easily could have passed for one. Pale skin, blue eyes, dark hair. She reminded him of Arwen. But there was something broken about her. She looked so fragile. More so than any elf could.

She swallowed and took the last step onto the little road in front of her. The tall man held out a hand to assist her. She quickly let go. "Perhaps you know of Peter the Magnificent?" Her voice had a minute shiver. All of them looked a might bit confused. She guessed the titles of Narnian kings and queens were as foreign to them as the forty-five different ways to address Peacocks had once been to her. With yet another sigh she accepted that she would not quite get the warm welcome she had been hoping. Remember, she had been feeling awfully lonely whilst still in America and such feelings didn't just disappear. Especially since there was now, not only an ocean, but a world between herself and her family. And so her worry for the wellbeing of said family lessened her smile.

"Could you be so kind as to tell me where we are?" She tried to remain graceful though her dress was in shambles and her skin was covered in mud. Her feet looked horrid. Just then she noticed the feet of the three little men. They were bare with thick hair on them. She made a mental note for later to ask, but didn't bother just yet.

"You are just outside Rivendell, milady. On the bridge of Mitheithel." the dark-haired man answered. "I am Estel," He did a quick curtsey bow and returned his bright blue eyes to hers.

"I'm sorry, but what's Rivendell?" She was beginning to feel a headache approaching. Tiredness as well.

He frowned at her question. "An Elf-city in Middle-Earth, milady." She seemed to have overcome the fear he had seen in her mere moments ago. It was transforming and reshaping to short tempered behavior and anger before his very eyes.

She stopped him quite rudely with a raised hand. Her headache was making her cranky. "Please, call me Susan."

He nodded, but didn't take his eyes from her. "Perhaps we could accompany you to the House of Elrond, Susan?"

She flashed a quick smile and accepted his arm. He caught on quick. The three little ones were introduced as Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took and Samwise Gamgee. Otherwise known as Merry, Pippin and Sam. She found she quite liked them already. They had a sort of glow around them. And they graciously slowed their speed to match her cautious steps, though she was surprised to realize she was moving slower than they with their short legs.

Estel had passed the reins of Bill the Pony onto Sam and graciously held her at arm's length. She had abandoned the navy blue pumps just beyond the bridge with a weary feeling. She tried to disregard the weariness and focused on something else. She wondered about the bridge again. Never in all her years as a Narnian queen had she seen such craftsmanship. Such a strange name for it as well. "I'm sorry, what did you say that bridge was called?" She glanced at Estel.

"Mitheithel." he answered patiently. It seemed he was not affronted that she didn't remember. She didn't know he had an almost uncanny understanding of her already. He remembered the lost expression she had worn upon meeting them. He wondered what had brought her there as she repeated the name slowly to herself.

It was beautiful. Mitheithel. It almost rolled off one's tongue. But it wasn't Narnian. Or it was a language in Narnia she had never heard before and she had heard many. Through the years of speaking to dignitaries from other countries, as well as Talking Animals, some with their own pidgin and Creole languages, she was quite well versed in the art of speech. Just as Edmund. The two of them had the best ear for language and music. The memory of him brought a chaotic whirl of emotions. She sighed deeply and frowned when her breath hitched. Estel would've heard that.

"Are you alright, Susan?" His voice was very gentle. He noticed the shiver that ran up her hand and into his arm.

She nodded, but found trouble speaking. Her eyes returned to the ground to watch where she stepped and he retreated. She did, however, notice the worried glances he sent her way until they reached the city. The way was marked by an arch in white stone with delicate carvings. It was as beautiful as the bridge and clearly of similar design. As they entered and her eyes swept over the buildings and arches, she decided to focus solely on her present situation and not think of family. It would only hinder her. "It's beautiful," Her voice was one of complete awe and appreciation. Her bright eyes took in every detail. It almost seemed as if the city had been built around the forest. Trees and cliffs were pivotal parts of the design and structure of most of the buildings.

She emitted a little laugh as they made their way further into Rivendell.

AN: I'm going to leave it here and give it a week or so (I say a week, but we all know I never keep my own deadlines - usually I skip ahead). Let me know what you thought. If I nailed Susan's character? If not, what I can do to improve upon it? If you like the fact that there is yet ANOTHER Narnia/LOTR crossover in the world? If you already now know who Estel is? And if you know why Tolkien decided to name the pony Bill? )