Disclaimer. I do not own The Lord of the Rings or anything affiliated with it. Now, although I own this particular story and its plot, I do not own the title The Trouble Quartet, because I fell in love with it and consequently ripped off Yoshihiro Togashi’s idea. Well, he never published it, but he was going to, so I not sure if it counts…well, I don’t own it at any rate, and that’s that!

The Trouble Quartet

She stands for canon. Another for movie-verse. Yet another for the fangirls. The final is AU. Four well-rounded characters fall into ME. Real Tolkien fans will appreciate this.

An Optional Read

This discusses, in depth, what each character stands for. While reading this isn’t required to understand the story, it is highly recommended.

Samantha (Sam) Elizabeth Conrad. The symbol for anything and everything canon. She is named Sam simply because every OC seems to be named that, whether they are good or bad. The leader of the Quartet purely because she is Tolkien-savvy. Ordinarily she would look out to save her own skin, but since becoming their new leader she finds herself with unusual responsibility. Sam and Lauren know each other at the start of the story. She is also a great believer in authenticity. Height 5’3. Age is 18.

Lauren Ashley Mangham. The symbol for anything and everything movie-verse. She is the only person that Sam knows at the start of the adventure. Although she has never read The Lord of the Rings, she has seen the movies countless times. Lauren is a great lover of art, and also has very low self-esteem. Smiles perpetually. Extremely empathetic. Height 5’5. Age is 15.

Emily Verity Walls. The symbol for anything and everything fangirlish. The only things she likes about The Lord of the Rings are the actors. She actually despises everything else about it. She meets the other girls for the first time in this story and decides to stay with them, whether they like it or not. Constantly mopes about her boyfriend and how much she misses him. Height 5’7. Age is 19.

India Margaret Stori. The symbol for anything and everything AU. She is an older woman who had (once) a family, and is deeply grounded in the real world. India meets the others for the first time in this story. She struggles with Sam for the position of leader, but later relents. She and Sam usually disagree on pretty much everything, and she can often make Sam feel like an idiot. Height 5’8. Age is 27.

Another Optional Read/Backstory

The four main characters of “The Trouble Quartet” are the only survivors of a plane that wrecked while on its way to Britain. Thinking they are somewhere near civilization (despite the fact there is no phone service out there), they plunder the dead for supplies and journey out into the Wild. Only then do they discover the truth of what happened…

Or part of it, anyway.

Prologue: There but Never Back Again

There are things, so many things that I want to say…
About what’s happened to us.
What’s been said, why we’re here, and…
Possibly why we’re never going back again.

Sam read over the last few lines swiftly, frowning. No, that wouldn’t do at all, she decided; the words sounded stupid even in her own head. She scratched out the last line and rewrote:

There. That’s less dreary, she thought. She continued to write.

So, where to begin? Perhaps at the beginning?
No, not quite that far back. That would take forever.
The basics will suit you for now. I’ll tell you about myself.

Oh well, she thought. Even if her prose was rather tacky it was getting the job done. She supposed that was all the Professor really cared about…

My full name is Samantha Elizabeth Conrad. Very average, very fitting.
I’m 18 years old. I have no siblings and recently no family. They are lost.
Or rather I am lost.
No matter how much I love this place…I will miss my home, always. But no matter.

“This is so stupid looking,” she grumbled to herself, scratching out a few words and scowling at the parchment. “The Professor will probably have something to say about this…”

Frowning at the thought, she hunched over the parchment and let the quill scratch freely – ignoring the blotches that were being scattered over her narrative. No time for revisions, she realized. No matter how unpolished, she knew she had to hurry and be done with it.

No…it doesn’t matter. Anyway, back to the real story.
It all began when I boarded a transcontinental flight to Britain a few weeks ago.
I’m know that even you, living in this isolated world, know what Britain is.
I wasn’t the only one who boarded that flight. Have you met my friend Lauren yet?
She was on there, too. As were many of my other friends…
I’m one of the new graduates from my high school, you see…
We were all going to go on our senior trip together.
Unfortunately, we brought Lauren (who is two years younger than most of us) along for the trip.
I think we both know why that was a mistake.

Sam hesitated, the quill poised over the blotched parchment, re-read the last line, and bit her lip. Yes, it had most definitely been a mistake to bring Lauren along. It wasn’t fair that she had to be mixed up in all of this…

Our flight crashed.
Out of all my friends, only Lauren and I made it.
Everyone else died.

No, Sam thought fervently, it just wasn’t fair…

The crash, as I later heard (and you’ve probably heard this too) was spectacular.
And not in a good way. Or at least that’s what most people told me.
Soon after the crash itself, I found that Lauren and I weren’t the only ones alive.
There were two strangers – I’m sure you’ve met them by now – named Emily and India.
There was also a male German shepherd we named ‘Carlisle’.
I’m not sure how he got there or what he was doing on the plane.
Maybe he was the pilot’s dog?
But anyway…

She tried to read the paragraph she had just written, but got a headache because of the phrasing of the words. But what else could she do, save write in short, emotional spurts? So much had happened so quickly…

So much happened so quickly!
We banded together, chose a leader – India – and decided on our course of action.
Nothing happened that first day.
But several nights later…
We saw light on the hilltop. We went there several days later, hoping to find someone.
As you know…we found help.
But…
Not the kind that I expected…or wanted.
I thought I was going crazy…

Sam remembered it very vividly, how she and the others had scaled the ruins on the hilltop, how they had stood there, frantic with indecision, then…

“What do you think you are doing? We still have several hours of daylight left; you can’t stop, Emily. Now get off your prissy, cute bottom or – God help me – we’ll leave you!”

India, Sam saw immediately, was beginning to show the strain of being plane-wrecked, half-starved, and stranded in the wilderness for days on end. Normally, the older woman would simply plod on and say little – unless spoken to – but it was slowly becoming evident that she was unable to maintain her aloof façade. Sam studied her taut face carefully and saw anger, sadness…and weariness. Her eyes, which had once held beauty and laughter in a glance, were now quenched of all life to be replaced with a haunting, feral hunger. Not to mention a perpetual fierceness that reminded Sam of a starving, rabid dog.

The look did not suit her, Sam thought. But then again, these past few days had not been easy on any of them. Sam probably looked even worse by comparison.

It was not an untrue thought. Not several hours before, Sam had caught a glimpse of herself in a stray puddle of water; her reflection had not been anything remotely pretty. Not that she was beautiful to begin with, but still – surely her hair had been less frazzled, her eyes less crusted over, and her body less muddy? Surely there had been, once upon a time, a Samantha Elizabeth Conrad that was careless, girlish, and clean?

It was amazing what a few days absent of minimal comforts could do to a group of young women. Suffice to say, they all looked the same – ‘terrible’ probably being the most accurate word to describe them. ‘Smelly’, Sam thought with a wry smile, ‘disgusting’, ‘unhygienic’, and ‘good-God-what-is-that-thing?’ probably had their merits as well.

Emily, who was uncharacteristically smeared with dirt and grime and mud, glared up at India from the ground and blinked hard as tears began to leak out of her eyes. India saw them glistening and scowled deeply in response.

“You can’t cry. Don’t you understand? Crying never does anything, just like sitting will never get you anywhere. I’m not sorry if it sounds mean, because it’s true. You have to get up.”

Although Sam privately agreed with India on some counts, she wasn’t very fond of the woman’s brash way of handling things, and she was even less fond of Emily’s tears. She frowned at India and moved to Emily side, protectively:

“I think you should be sorry if you’re being mean to her. Yes, I know what you want to say – ‘but we’ve got to go on!’” Sam told India, whose eyes were flashing dangerously. “We’re all upset, I recognize that. I know you recognize that too. So you should know that the last thing we need to be doing is going at each other’s throats!”

Sam said these words as diplomatically as she could, but still India’s eyes hardened and her mouth twisted down into a painful grimace. Hard-hearted woman, Sam thought, but not without reason. She lost more than all of us combined.

“I do not mean to be cruel, Samantha,” said India coolly, but with tiredness as well. She twisted a stray strand of red hair around her index finger, and Sam knew that meant she was agitated. “I mean to be honest. I cannot abide a lie, least of all from myself. We leave now.”

India turned and started back up the hill, and Sam watched her go with a mixture of sadness and bitterness. A funny and somewhat unpleasant combination, like the woman herself.

Tall, fiery-headed, and infinitely adult, the India Margaret Stori that Sam had come to know over the past few days was, Sam guessed, a very different India than what she used to be. How she perceived this, Sam was not certain, but it seemed to her that the embittered, coarse, and poisonously powerful woman before her was merely a shadowy facet of her personality. Possibly one that had been dormant until the present, though Sam could never know that for sure.

But Sam remembered seeing her on the plane, before it crashed, that is. India had been sitting a few rows up and across the aisle, smiling happily between a man and a very young girl…

One plane crash and several days later…no more smiling.

“Well, I guess we’d better go!” said Emily nervously, standing up and brushing the dirt off the seat of her pink shorts. She looked down at Sam and smiled hesitantly, her dry lips cracking and bleeding.

“Your lips!” Sam said quickly, pointing.

Emily blinked and licked them reflexively, wincing when she tasted blood.

“Gross!” she spluttered, sticking out her tongue as if to get rid of the taste. “Blood is DISGUSTING!”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam laughed dryly, proffering Emily a small round, yellow tube. “Lip balm. Squeeze some on your finger and rub it in. And try not to bite down on your lips, alright?”

Emily accepted the lip balm enthusiastically, squeezed out more than half the tube onto her finger, and proceeded to rub it in. Sam regarded the now half-empty tube mournfully. Well, that was what she’d come to expect from Emily…

She was what Sam called a ‘cosmetically inclined’ girl, after all.

The first time she had caught sight of her on the plane, snuggling happily next to her boyfriend, Sam was able to immediately size up Emily Verity Walls as the preppy, girly, never-have-gone-a-day-without-makeup type of girl. Her strawberry blond hair, now straggly and caked with mud, had been perfumed, teased to perfection, and constantly played with by her male companion. Her pale skin, now streaked with grime, had been delicately flushed with the lightest of blushes. Even her clothing, now tattered and torn to pieces whenever they needed fuel for the fire, had been inescapably perfect.

Looking at her now, Sam wondered how she could manage to get excited over a tube of lip balm. Especially since her boyfriend was not with them…

“But we couldn’t find his…you know…body,” Emily had said tremulously several days before, her green eyes swimming with tears. “He’s like us…he’s still alive…!”

She said that many times over, as if that would make it true. The others let Emily nurture her comforting fantasy. He was out there…he was alive…he was breathing…searching for her…

Quite the opposite of India’s plight, Sam couldn’t help thinking. She had the bitter, irrefutable proof of her husband and daughter’s deaths – what was left of them twisted, unmoving, with metal and smoke and utter ruin…

Emily habitually rumpled her strawberry blond mess, flashed Sam a very forced smile, and started up the path after India. Sam watched her go for a few seconds, then followed, noting how unnatural her graceful, loping walk looked at odd with the barren landscape. Not to mention her bright clothing. So strange…

For about the one-hundred-sixty-seventh time ever, Sam wondered where they were. Certainly they had crashed somewhere near Britain – the plane had died only after they’d been flying for hours – but it most definitely didn’t look like Britain. Where were the quaint, tourist-trap cities? The people with the charming accents and debonair smiles? The hotels? The cars? The cell phone service?

For there were none of these things out here in this bare, dreary, muddy place. Of all of these things, the loss of cell phone service was perhaps the most lamentable – for how could they plea for help without it? They couldn’t. They climbed atop every hill they could find, turned their phones on and waved them high…not a single bar of service. Just draining batteries and mounting tempers…

But then there was the light on the hilltop, three nights ago.

To Sam, who had been awake when it had happened, it was either a sign of hope or an omen of doom. She wasn’t sure which. But it was certainly something – there was lightning crackling, snapping, and flaring on a hilltop! An awful unnatural thing it was, but at the same time it put things into perspective…for better or for worse, they had yet to discover.

“There is something alive there. I don’t know who they are or what they are doing…but we have to see. Maybe they can help us,” India had said quietly, when Sam had woken her up and pointed out the leaping lights. “If not…then perhaps we can at least get a phone signal while we’re up there. We should save our batteries until then…unless we need them to light our way in the dark.”

So here they were…trudging wearily up the very same hill that had been alight three nights ago. India was by far the most fervent of any of them, as if she were desperate to reach some kind of stronghold before the floodgates opened and she gave herself over to misery. For Sam had not seen her cry…not yet, not once.

Nor had Lauren cried, for that matter.

“Do you think we’ll get there by nightfall, Sam?” Lauren asked gently, coming up to walk beside her. Sam started and looked round at her in surprise. Lauren, her curly ringlets obscuring part of her face, smiled softly in response.

“Do you think we’ll get there by nightfall, Sam?” Lauren repeated slowly, “And did I scare you?”

“You came out of nowhere,” Sam said once she had regained her wits. “But…yes, I think we’ll get there by nightfall. I also think that there will be someone there to greet us…well, I hope,” she added lamely, frowning as she picked her way up the slope carefully. The path was getting harder to find.

“Hope is good,” said Lauren in her misty voice, smiling perpetually.

Sam knew it was selfish of her, but she was secretly glad that Lauren was here with her. Although Lauren was three years here junior, they were very close friends – in fact, she was the very person Sam would’ve picked to be lost in the wilderness with. Not because Lauren was nature savvy (Sam privately thought Lauren was quite to opposite) but because of her warmth and unquenchable happiness.

“I don’t understand why you are so happy. We have nothing to be happy about!” India had fumed to Lauren several days ago. “Why do you smile?”

“I don’t know…I suppose because it is so much more pleasant than frowning, or crying,” Lauren had said, shrugging and smiling at India. “But…I am alive, certainly.”

India had said nothing to that.

Lauren Ashley Mangham was also enviously pretty, even with the dirt and grime – though that was possibly due to the fact that she smiled a great deal. Doubtless she possessed some sort of Italian strain; her dark, curly hair, her olive skin, her dark eyes…it was quite enough to set off her features charmingly and thus draw people towards her. Of course, Sam didn’t doubt that Lauren’s magnetic personality had something to do with it. She was willing to bet that Lauren could be as ugly as a troll and still charm people, unwittingly, into doing what she wanted.

Then again, perhaps it was because Lauren did not cry. Not for the same reason as India, for Lauren was not cold, tightly-wound, or prideful – crying was simply something that Sam couldn’t imagine Lauren doing, ever. Not that strong person. Not even death could break her sweet heart.

As Sam and Lauren walked on, the final member of their company came bounding up behind them, tongue lolling out happily. The German Shepherd Carlisle hadn’t cried yet either…but since dogs couldn’t possibly cry, Sam didn’t really think that counted. He had, however, snuffled around the ruins the day of the crash…howling and whining and pining for his master or mistress…

Sam supposed that counted.

“Come here, Carlisle, baby,” she murmured automatically, absentmindedly extending one hand to scratch his erect ears. Carlisle slobbered happily all over her fingers and gave her and adoring look.

Apparently, Sam thought, a few days of running about in the wilderness had cured Carlisle of his grief. She even thought that he looked remarkably like Lauren – they had the same color eyes, after all, and the same look in them. Perpetual happiness…perpetual peace…whatever it was.

Sam wished she was a dog. Or rather, she wished she could feel like one…

Yes, Professor, I know it sounds stupid.
'Feel like a dog?' Hah! Who would want to feel like that?
I’ll tell you why. A dog’s emotions are less complex.
They’re close to human minus most of the in-depth, nasty things that nobody wants.
Like grief. Remorse.
‘Oh, but I have heard a dog howl in grief!’ you would say.
‘I know they have remorse!’
Hah. Maybe you’re right? I hope you’re not.
Perhaps the dogs just don’t get too attached in the first place.
Perhaps…

Sam stopped writing and stared at the paper, blankly.

“Right…I have no idea where I’m going with this,” she grumbled irritably. “Besides, the Professor just wants the facts, that’s right…no emotions…just facts…”

Anyway…
Aside from my wanting to turn into a dog, here is what happened afterwards.
India, Emily, Lauren, Carlisle, and I reached the hilltop early in the evening.
By then we were all exhausted.
Mentally and physically.
India and Lauren still hadn’t cried, but that’s irrelevant.
We turned on our phones, and we waved them in the air.
As you can imagine, there was no signal.
We even put Lauren and India’s shoulders and tried again.
But not a single phone would work, of course.

Sam allowed herself a small, bittersweet laugh at the memory. The very thought of using cell phones in this place…how insane…but they had no way of knowing…

Of course, none of us knew there were no cell phone towers nearby.
None of us knew…
That we were in Middle Earth.
That we were standing on Weathertop that day, October the 6th…
No way. And even when the evidence came…
The irrefutable proof…
I couldn’t believe it even then.
Because it was just too crazy.

Sam sighed heavily and stared moodily down the hillside. Her cell phone was still clutched tightly in her hand, blinking as the battery died. She impulsively flipped it open, dialed her long-distance home number, and put it to her ear.

Nothing.

Behind her, Lauren was straddling India’s shoulders and was waving her cell phone high in the air, with Emily watching nervously. Turning around and looking at them, Sam felt a sickening compulsion to laugh – thankfully she stifled it before it could escape her throat.

“Signal?” India grunted, staggering a bit under Lauren’s weight.

“No…” Lauren said quietly, peering at the phone confusedly. “It’s blinking, though…”

India looked alarmed. “Turn it off, then,” she said in a strained voice, clutching at Lauren’s legs and looking up at her, “That means the battery is dying…everyone, turn your phones off…”

They all complied. Faint beeping sounds were heard all around the hilltop as phones were shut down.

Only a little battery left…

This was what everyone was thinking, even if nobody said it. Only a little left. And what then? What would become of them?

The only thing they could do was be practical, rational, and try to pretend everything was normal. They enthusiastically threw themselves into the mundane tasks of gathering firewood that had been scattered around the hilltop, setting up places to sleep, and splitting the very last bag of peanuts that they had from the flight. But it was still very early in the evening, and none of them were ready for sleep just yet.

The boredom set in. And with the boredom, came the brooding.

Sam tried to stave this off by examining her surroundings. This proved to be more interesting than she thought, for after a few moments of examination she found the hilltop was not a natural thing – it was in fact manmade. But when she pointed this out to the others, they didn’t seem to think this very interesting.

“Well, what were you expecting, Samantha?” muttered India, watching Sam as she paced around excitedly. “I don’t see why you’re getting so worked up about. You saw the lights three nights ago, didn’t you? There were people here.”

“But that’s exactly why I’m getting so excited!” exclaimed Sam, feeling a genuine smile curve her lips as she ran her hands over the roughly hewn stone ground. “Look at this! It’s…I don’t know…civilization or something!”

“Civilization is hotels. It’s cars and food and hot showers and a bed,” complained Emily, who was sprawled out next to India. “This crap looks ancient.”

But Sam was not to be discouraged. Occasionally, she was even supported by Lauren, who – although she doubtless didn’t find the surroundings as intriguing – at least feigned a certain amount of interest. Even Carlisle sniffed around whenever Sam bent over something and examined it, though he eventually lost interest. So it would suffice to say that Sam was more or less alone in her religious examination of the hilltop.

What fascinated her the most was the centerpiece of their campsite – a massive cairn of broken, blackened stones…quite possibly the result of the light they’d seen three days ago. The entire ground was made of roughly hewn stone with bits of dead grass poking through at intervals; as for the rim of the hilltop, it was nearly breathtaking. Or at least it was to Sam. She could tell by looking around that there had once stood pillars of stone in a massive ring – quite possibly to reinforce this place against intrusion – but now all that was left was their broken ruin and long grass growing up around them. She knew it must have been this way for a very long time for such decay to take place, but moreover…

It was eerily familiar.

The first feeling of déjà vu came when she spotted a small, white stone lying apart from the cairn of blackened ones. Curiously enough, it seemed to have escaped being charred. Sam frowned slightly and went to pick it up, and turned it over several times to examine it fully. Lauren saw what she was doing and came to look over her shoulder.

“What do you think those markings mean? It looks like a stroke, a dot, and three more strokes,” Lauren mused quietly. “Almost like…some kind of ancient rune…”

“Keep it,” snapped Emily from the other side of the cairn. “If we ever get the hell out of here, you can sell it and make money. Hah,” she laughed dryly.

Sam and Lauren ignored her. Sam continued to stare at the stone, transfixed – Lauren gave her a concerned look.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Sam thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Sam nodded again.

“If you say so, Sam…”

But Sam was not all right. She realized then what the stone meant, in full – and also the lightning, the hilltop, and the blackened cairn…

But it couldn’t possibly be true, she insisted to herself. Not true! At any rate she wasn’t about to tell the others about her suspicions. Honestly, how would that look? She couldn’t just walk up to them and announce: “Well, I hate to say it, but I think somehow we’ve landed in Middle Earth…” No! The very idea!

Nevertheless, she kept the stone close by her side and kept a close watch on her surroundings. It was still early evening. It was also October the sixth, if they were indeed in Middle Earth. She would know, Tolkien fanatic that she was. The runes G3 written by Gandalf meant October the third and that was three days ago so…

That meant…today was the day when…

Sam wouldn’t allow herself to think it. No! Today is not the day you think it is! Nobody’s coming to Weathertop – I mean – this hill that looks a lot like Weathertop! Gandalf isn’t real and he didn’t leave that stone. You’re probably going insane at last, Samantha, that is all. Soon you’ll wake up and find yourself in the hospital because you’re in a coma right now and this is all just a crazy dream…

You need time to think, Samantha – she thought to herself – so just get away and calm down…

She found a nice little place where the others couldn’t see her. A few paces down the side of the hill, right on top of a nice rock that jutted out a little ways from the slope. She drew in a deep breath and allowed herself to look around in wonder. It certainly was beautiful from so high up, the forest the lay in the distant West, the marshes that lay in between…very lovely. She settled herself back against the rock and let out her breath – though at the same time she was wondering if Middle Earth had a forest to the west of Weathertop, or if it had marshes in between…

Suddenly, three dark shapes crawling up the hill caught her eye, and she drew against the rock and looked down at them in alarm. People? Perhaps. Friendly? Maybe not. She shuddered and peered at them intently, afraid to move lest they see her.

“…There is nothing for it, I suppose,” came one high, accented voice faintly. “This is a rocky slope to be certain, but still…I’d rather be elsewhere.”

“We have miles to go yet,” said another, deeper voice – and peering closely Sam could tell it was coming from what seemed to be the biggest dark shape. “But we must walk them quietly, Master Meriadoc. Hush now! We do not yet know what awaits us at the top.”

Now Sam could see them quite clearly. A man, tall, cloaked, and outfitted for travel, was climbing up the slope to where she was sitting – and he was not alone, for he was flanked by two smaller persons, who appeared to be only half his height, perhaps less. Both of them were curly-headed, clothed similarly to the man they walked with, and neither of them wore shoes.

They were, Sam knew, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Frodo Baggins of the Shire. And the man with them was none other than Aragorn son of Arathorn of the Dunedain.

But, of course, her mind would not accept that. Because it couldn’t be true.

Therefore, when Aragorn – no, he wasn’t Aragorn – came to a halt in front of her and regarded her curiously, Sam did not feel fear, only a detached sense of disbelief. She looked up at him defiantly, as if daring him to proclaim himself Aragorn. As if! This man was not Aragorn, kingly and proud though he was…

“Name yourself, lady,” said the pseudo-Aragorn, politely but sternly. “And name your purpose.”

“Name yourself, and maybe I will,” retorted Sam before she could stop herself. Frodo and Merry gave her surprised looks and glanced up at Aragorn as if expecting him to be angry. But he wasn’t.

“You may call me Strider,” he said, kneeling down in front of her not as a sign of servility, she knew, but so that he could look her in the eye. “But my business is my own.”

Sam looked back at him blankly, not knowing what to say. Suddenly his image became blurred, and warped and distorted…but Sam didn’t know why. Her throat felt choked. Her cheeks felt wet.

“She is crying…” she heard Merry whisper to Frodo, “I wonder…did something happen?”

Tell me what you think. Are Tolkien’s characters in character? Are my original characters interesting at all? More to come soon!

Oh, and on another note, yes – there will be romance. But not with Legolas! XD

Reviews are greatly appreciated, and they give me an incentive for a quicker update!