A/N- Hi! Lucy Took here. No, not JealousOfTheMoon, she'll come in later (she’s (I’m) beta-ing this chapter, though. Hi!).

I started this collective fanfic from an idea that came from a member of The Lion's Call's forum, Siberian Christmas, and started a thread for it. Before I knew it, it became a popular thread and I got lots of authors interested, including our dear JotM. These authors will introduce themselves as they come in. So after planning, assigning characters and choosing a poster (that being the person who sticks this up on the web, me, JotM), I now proudly present “The Bird and The Baby”!

JotM would like to add that although the authors were all thrown together and prompted to collaborate at The Lion’s Call, this story is in no way directly affiliated with or endorsed by the staff there.

JotM would also like to add that there is a magnificent pun in the following chapter (Tooky is the genius behind it, although I don’t know if it was intentional or not), and since JotM enjoys that sort of thing, she is offering props to anyone who spots it.

Disclaimer – As far as I know none of us own anything in this story. If one of you authors does, I'd like to know about this! (Also, JotM wishes you would pay express attention to the writer of each chapter as 90% of them are not herself and she wants credit to go where it belongs.)

It was a dreary, muddy wet day in Oxford England. C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien had both agreed to meet at “The Bird and The Baby,” the local pub that they often visited to discuss their masterpieces: for Lewis, The Chronicles of Narnia, and for Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings.

Unfortunately, dear reader, on this particularly dreary day, a terrible head cold was making its rounds about the town, and both of our favorite authors were unable to make it to their meeting. This really was a shame, for all had been made ready for their debate on the superior works. Indeed, the books were already laid out to be examined and criticized by the other master of the art of writing.

Another unfortunate event also happened on this day. The owner of the pub was out of town, and the keeper that he had left it to came down with a head cold, and had made the last minute decision to close up shop. With head a-pounding, he made a key mistake: he forgot to lock the door.

“I have never seen anything like it in all of my days!” A tall, dark-haired man with face stern and proud exclaimed as he walked into the pub. “What wonders lie here?” He went over to one of the electric lights and began examining it. Then a boy about the age of eleven walked in and then went over to the older man and began trying to explain the lights to him, simultaneously annoying and interesting Boromir (for that was the older man’s name).

As the largely one-sided discussion of electric lights continued, a tall, beautiful woman entered, mumbling something to herself about the “World of Men.” Her appearance smacked of evil. Following her with a look of amazement in his eyes at the sudden change of scenery from his home in Finchley came a dark haired boy, about the age of thirteen. After him came a girl who after a closer look was plainly the dark-haired boy’s sister She too had a look of amazement in her eyes, but hers was laced with a hint of horror at the sight of the tall woman. She soon turned her eyes to the next people entering.

The next people came in a group of three, all exceptionally short. There were two men, if one could think to call them that, for they were extraordinarily short. They were hobbits, and a woman made the third. All seemed completely amazed at what they were seeing. The lass turned to one of the lads for an explanation, but only got a mumbled answer of “What would the Old Gaffer think of this?”

After the hobbits came in a woman, surprised at the change from the laundry that she had been attending to. She muttered something about how she “hoped this wasn't Heaven, it wasn't anything like The Parson had said it would be if it was.” Her attention was soon turned to the next newcomer, who was a horse—and what’s more a Talking Horse, apparently, for it said “Good day, mum,” and then went further into the pub, for he had always wondered what the inside looked like.

Then came in an old man, or so he appeared. He was muttering, “What have those hobbits done this time? Perhaps it was one of those elves...” and we will leave his muttering at that and turn to the last to enter. This youth looked to be fourteen and had a wondering expression, as if he had entered into a place out of his bedtime stories.

After all had entered the pub, Boromir had tired of Eustace's (the obnoxious youth explaining electric lights) speech on electricity and turned to the books on the table. He picked up a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Something about the title struck him as familiar and so, although not being one to enjoy reading (or not quite so much as his brother), he immediately began flipping though it. Then he saw his name and started reading intensely...

A/N There's the introduction! I now turn the reins over to Lady Meriwen! –Lucy Took (link to profile under JotM’s favorites)