Fili's Traumatic Encounter With A Rabid Fangirl: The Harrowing Tale Of One Poor Golden Dwarf And An Unfortunate Incident Involving A Random Portal
Once upon a time, Fili the dwarf from the Hobbit was dropped into the world of the writer of this fic, henceforth known as 'The Writer'.
What usually happens is that the character deposited in our modern world is discovered by the OC and taken into their home. The OC attempts to keep the story they are from a secret to keep the character in the dark about the true nature of their own world and their future (particularly if that character is meant to die).
The character slowly learns all about the modern world and gradually (or swiftly, if written by a pre-teen or a sexual deviant) falls in love with the OC.
What actually happened when it impossibly happened to the Writer (who identifies with the sexual deviant), was this:
Fili showed up on her doorstep in a bewildered state and asked for assistance as he was lost and 'unfamiliar' with his surroundings (ie: he'd been dropped into an alien world with terrifying metal beasts - which honked at him like maniacal, huge, LOUD geese when he got in their way, though seemingly never attempted to attack him - hard paths, harder than he had ever experienced, running by the side of the black, smelly and equally as hard paths the metal monsters roared along and strange people in strange clothes carrying strange devices which beeped or played strange music or screamed or - Mahal save him, what was this madness?! - spoke!)
The Writer originally stared at him blankly, trying to figure out if this was Dean O'Gorman dressed up on her doorstep - out of all the doorsteps he could have played this wonderful prank on - or if she'd really eaten far too much ice-cream that night and this was some strange, sugar-driven dream...
Then he cleared his throat and froze in horror as she reached out to tug - Tug! Mahal save him! - on his twin moustache braids reverently and in a sort of trance.
When they didn't come away she tugged harder and he yelped, batting her hands away angrily and growling, "What do you think you are doing?!"
The Writer jumped at that, then moaned - moaned - at the sound of his deeper voice and, without warning, grabbed his coat front and dragged him into her house without further ado.
Then she was kissing him and poor Fili was so beside himself with confusion and indignation and maybe just a smidgeon of arousal - *Cough*Writer's wishful thinking*Cough*; shut up Kili-muse! - he let her push him down onto her couch where she started to undress him...
When her hand reached down his trousers to slip beneath his small clothes and fondle his cock however, Fili came to his senses and pushed her away as firmly yet gently as he could, straightened his clothing, and bowed politely to her, thanking her for her 'help'...
Then turned on his heel and fled as though a legion of orcs were on his tail, out the door, down the front steps and onto the street where he was finally hit by a metal goose and flung high up into the air... And vanished without a trace.
(Well, being hit by a car works for all the other characters from our world going to Middle Earth, why not for characters dropped into ours and returning once more to theirs?)
The Writer, initially in far too much of a sex-driven fangirl craze to notice something was wrong, raced out to see where he had gone...
And found a car with a dwarf-sized dent and smashed windscreen idling in her street and the Driver standing in front, scratching their head with one hand and massaging the bridge of their nose with the other, eyes tightly squeezed shut.
The Writer noticed an ornate dagger in the ditch and raced to pick it up, admiring it in awe, before realising the Driver was now looking at her and racing back inside to avoid questions she wouldn't be able to answer.
Of course, it was all a dream and the dagger in her hand an optical illusion which was somehow still there on her table when she awoke the next day, but she decided to write a fanfic about it because she was just one of those sad people who have insane crushes on fictional characters, for which the only therapy is writing shameless smutty self-inserts with the occasional and often pitiful attempt at a story line...
This is what she wrote...
(Keep in mind it's all fictional, as the real events inspiring the story have already been described to you in the briefest detail possible. Not that it was that difficult as the real events themselves, even in full, were quite brief, lasting perhaps ten minutes at the most….)