The Tolkien Conspiracy

Note: All characters in this story regarding Middle Earth are the property of JRR Tolkien and not mine. There was no financial gain in the writing, thinking, or posting of this story, and it was for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: A story about belief, and how even the biggest fairytale can become an even bigger reality for some.

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Chapter 1: The Wonders of Middle Earth

My father used to read The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings to myself and my sisters as we were going to bed at night. You could call him one of those Tolkien Purists. He adored the books. He knew everything about each of them. I think my sister and my first book was The Lord of the Rings picture book. I could read it all within a week, or so my father told me. He said I dragged that silly thing everywhere, like a lifeline of sorts, and by the time I was 8 I was already trying to read the books.

I guess life is funny in that way. In a cruel sense of irony, as I like to think of it, after he died I never picked up those books again. Sure they sat there on my mantle, just as my father had kept them, and I'd often imagine opening one and being taken into it, where my father (who was really Lord Elrond) would take me back to Rivendell and I would get to jump on every bed within the House. Sure enough, these dreams never came true. My father was dead, and no matter how many times I peeled open that cover, I'd never get to jump on Elrond's beds.

After a while the books became more decorations then stories. They sat there, staring at me with their ancient writing, as if telling me to open them in their own, subliminal way. I have ignored them so far. It has been 13 years since my father died, and I have no more time for stories of Hobbits and Elves, no matter how enjoyable they are.

I became what my mother calls, "the spitting image of my father," and to her it seems that me being my father's daughter is not a terribly good thing. She complains I am obssessed, and after father died I always was. I reluctantly cause the phone conversations to end short in these cases where I cannot do anything else. My mother complains too much anyways. About my brother, about me, about my sisters....I'm not sure if anyone is safe from her wrath anymore.

So, it was a little task to be sitting in my office the day when the news hit. I'm not good at dealing with the insane, and the gentleman who rushed in certainly was insane, but I tried my best, considering I'm only the Junior Reporter on duty and there are hundreds of others who would be glad to deal with what this man had to say. He was shouting at the top of his lungs and looking out my massive windows. I asked him what was wrong.

"Wrong?!" He looked shocked, like the question I had asked him was not exactly what he was feeling. His long brown hair was shaking. "There is nothing wrong. All I can say is that I have seen the wonders of Middle Earth!" The man dropped like a rock into the chair in front of my desk and he sighed. He was a short gentleman, with a strange beard on his chin and small moustache over his lip. His hair was deep brown, like a chestnut colour and his eyes were the same. I nodded, trying to look interested.

"I agree the movie was very good." The man again, looked shocked, shaking his head and laughing. I was now the confused one in the room. The man laughed harder and harder, and finally stopped, giving himself a chance to speak.

"No you silly reporter." He said. "I have seen THE wonders of Middle Earth. And I'm not talking about the semi-accurate movies. I'm talking about THE Middle Earth." I could tell he was trying to make me feel inferior with all his over-emphasized "THE's", but I maintained composure anyways.

"I think you've been reading the books too much. Good day." I went back to my article, glancing at the man who wasn't moving. He was again looking shocked. "Look sir, I have a very important story due within the hour and I have plenty of work to do. I can't deal with someone who claims to have walked through Middle Earth this morning so GOOD DAY."

"M'am." He began again, rearranging his thoughts. "I apologize for the way I sound but I can assure you. I am of sound mind and am completely sober. Will you please just hear me out?" I stared at him for a moment, thinking his insanity to be passing off onto me, but finally I nodded and the man smiled. "Thank you. Now I begin at where I was taking my dog for a walk this morning through the park behind my house. Do you know Kensington Gardens?" I nodded, listening somewhat, using the selective hearing I inherited off my mother to pay somewhat attention to the gentleman. "I was just walking and suddenly something rings in my ears. I try to shake it off, but then I open my eyes and I'm surrounded in trees. Huge trees!" He moves his hands while he speaks. "Anyways, I kept walking, thinking it was just some trick of my eyes but in a second I had tripped and was looking up into the face of an elf." My head burst up, my eyes doing their little squinty thing that my father did when he was confused. The man laughed suddenly. "And then, I was back."

"So you see a man with pointy ears and you expect me to what?" I asked, being extremely testy with the man. He laughed, like he had expected my response. "I'm sorry sir but this is a newspaper and a serious one at that. Good day."

"That's the third time you've rushed me." He said. "I saw an ELF! Not a man with pointy ears as you so half wittingly put it." I glared at him. He just sat there. "I'm not leaving until you write it into a story."

"What makes you think you can barge in MY office, tell me some insanely drunking story and make me publish it into an article?" I was now standing, almost yelling at him and I didn't know why. The man got to his feet as well. He looked very serious.

"Look, Miss..." He looked for the name plate on my desk, not knowing I had thrown the damn thing out years ago. "Miss." He said, maintaining some of his composure. "I saw Middle Earth. I saw a ELF! People want to hear about this!" He kept babbling and I grabbed my phone, dialing the number for security. He kept talking.

"Yes security, I need two, very large men up into the office of Delaney Marks." I slammed the phone back down and within a moment, two very large security guards came in and grabbed theman, who was still struggling.

"I'll show you!" He screamed. "I'll show you it's true!" My door slammed and I was left alone.

I slumped back into my seat and dropped my head into my hand. I played with the pen against the paper in front of my computer. The notes on the paper were of the recent fire in Pickadilly Station. I couldn't believe I was considering what this man was saying. Middle Earth? I thought my father was insane, but honestly, Middle Earth? Some people just see the movie too much I guess. I never saw it. I felt Peter Jackson's rendition of events would be far too elaborated that the movies would tell nothing of the original magic. I'm guessing it was right. My friend who read The Two Towers 9 times and was a devout Tolkien-ist came home and called me in a huff. I didn't make out much of what she said because it was riddled with curses, but I did get that there were elves at Helm's Deep and Faramir was 'evil'.

But the man in my office looked to be sane, even though he was raving about seeing 'the wonders of Middle Earth.' I shook it off. Come on Lane, I thought with my pen moving on the paper beneath my hand. Middle Earth? You're kidding yourself. I looked up at the door and then back at the paper on my desk.

The pen in my hand had been moving, but I hadn't been thinking. I saw what I had written. My black pen had spelled the words of my father's name.

I am insane, I thought, tossing the paper into the basket on the opposite wall.

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Well? Is it worth continuing? Please R & R!