Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, or NCIS
A/N: I know that I am currently working on three other stories besides this one, but I randomly thought of this today, so I posted it. Whether or not this is updated as quickly as "Life is Interesting," my NCIS story, is another matter. I would appreciate it if you let me know what you think so I can decide whether or not to continue this. Also, I apologize for the shortness of it.
Ziva woke up, lying in an unfamiliar bed. Her side hurt like hell, so the conclusions she jumped to was that she was kidnapped by the terrorists she had been fighting after that flash of light had seemed to knock her out. However, she wasn't in so much pain that she believed that theory, and the sheets felt soft and cool under her hands.
Am I in a hospital? It can't be a hospital, it is too quiet.
She then suddenly heard the soft sound of clothes rustling to the right of her. She tensed up, but lay completely still, not quite sure if this person was friend or foe. She listened harder, gauged where the sound was coming from, and gritting her teeth against the pain, jumped up, grabbed the person's arm that was sitting next to her bed, and yanked it behind his (or her, she couldn't tell yet) back.
"Who are you, and where am I," she hissed in English into what she began to believe was a woman's ear. She was taking shallow breaths as the pain and the bandages around her chest restricted her airflow.
"My name is Arwen Undomiél, and you're in Rivendell," the woman said, also in English, her voice accented and taut with pain.
"Rivendell, never heard of it. What country?" Ziva asked, instantly suspicious. She did not recognize the accent, and she started recognizing that the clothes she was wearing were odd, and the architecture of the building around her was odd.
"It is by the river Bruinen, at the foot of the Misty Mountains," Arwen answered, then hissed as Ziva pulled her arm up more. "Middle Earth!"
"Middle Earth? Since when has there been a distinction between Middle Earth and Earth?" Ziva hissed again. Then she felt the cold metal of a blade on her neck. Between the confusion of waking up in a strange bed, trying to decipher what the woman was saying, and dealing with the pain in her side, Ziva had managed to not hear her attacker walk up behind her.
"Release her," a man's voice said behind her, the accent similar to the woman's.
Ziva let go of Arwen's arm as she then sprang up out of the chair and turned to face Ziva. That is when Ziva noticed the woman had pointed ears.
"Ok, what the hell is going on?" Ziva asked, putting her hands up in the air. "Am I in one of McGee's fantasy worlds? Middle Earth, people with pointed ears? How the hell did I get here?"
"That I can explain," the man behind her said. Ziva slowly turned around, trying not to make any sudden moves. By leaping out of bed and attacking the woman, it seemed she had reopened her wound, and the pain was coming back full force. There was no way she could take on anyone right now and win. Once she had turned full around, she stared into the confused gray eyes of a tall brunette man, his hair plaited back from his face, exposing his also pointed ears. His knife remained at Ziva's neck.
Does anyone have normal ears in this universe? Ziva thought to herself.
"My sons found you in the river, about a week ago," the man said. "Your side was ripped open and bleeding, and you were unconscious. They brought you here, and I treated your wounds. Well, until you decided to jump up and reopen them they were healing nicely," he said, nodding to her. That was when Ziva noticed what she was wearing. It was a long flowing lilac gown that reached down to the floor and swirled around her ankles.
What the hell am I wearing? She thought as she then noticed the blood seeping though the gown on her right side. Shit.
"Do you remember how you got here?" the man asked.
"I was ambushed by an Al-Qaeda terrorist cell in a warehouse where I was supposed to meet an old friend," Ziva started, starting to remember. "I had run out of bullets and was using my knife…when I was stabbed in the side from behind." Well, that is why my side hurts, she thought. "Then, there was a blinding flash of light, and everything went dark. Then, I woke up here."
"Terrorists?" Arwen asked from behind her, watching her warily and rubbing her shoulder.
"Yes. Men who create terror and fear to try to control other's beliefs," she finished, then looked between the man and Arwen in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you do not know what terrorists or Al-Qaeda are?"
"No, we do not know the words, but we know the type of men you are talking about," the man said. "You fight these types of men?"
"Yes, basically since I was a child," Ziva answered.
"Then you are on our side and should have no reason to fight with us," the man said, lowering his knife. "I am Lord Elrond, Lord of Imladris, or Rivendell as others call it," Elrond said, placing his hand over his heart and giving a slight bow.
"Ziva, David," she said, not knowing why she trusted these people, but something in her told her she had to, and she could detect no lie in his eyes. She stood awkwardly, not quite sure whether she was supposed to bow or not. She then turned to Arwen. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Ziva," she said, holding out her hand.
Arwen awkwardly took it as Ziva shook her hand. "Arwen."
A/N: Questions, suggestions, comments, flamers? I would love to hear them all, well except for the flamers, unless you think it is that bad.