Sunday I am....where?
It's just another Sunday like any other. You're going about your business. Kicking around the house, or maybe you have to work Sundays-- either way, at some point in the day you have to open a door. Your front door. The office door. A car door. A castle door.
What lies on the other side is not what it should be.
Feel free to torture Emil on this one! Our poor attorney is going in completely unarmed into Tolkien's world.
The worst part about the door was that it had refused to open the other way once Emil had let himself inside."Doors should not ever, ever open to Middle Earth. Narnia maybe, but not to Middle Earth!" he told himself. Years ago he would have been overjoyed to find a portal in his childhood bedroom. Now that he was a grown-up and cleaning the place out per request of his aged parents, he felt a little differently about the matter. Dealing with real-world monsters had made him more wary of fighting off those in books.
He had known the place once he had stepped in. The ruin was just as he had imagined it, not as he had seen it in the movies. It was odd that the portal should lead him to Amon Hen, that old and ill-fated ruin. But at least it meant there was water nearby, and water meant life and possibly a way out.
As he walked down a slope, following the sound of the river, he caught sight of multiple indentations among the mud and dry leaves."Great, orc tracks," he muttered. No human, hobbit, elf, or dwarf could leave such twisted footprints. His hand went to his belt and he cursed; he'd left behind his Swiss knife on his desk. He would have to rely on his wits, his bare hands, and whatever weapon he could improvise.
Emil sighed as he adjusted his shoes so they wouldn't fall off. He rolled up his pants and the sleeves of his t-shirt before casting about for a long stick to use as a staff or weapon. All the while he listened for the foosteps of any other travelers, be they friend or foe.
What lies on the other side is not what it should be.
Feel free to torture Emil on this one! Our poor attorney is going in completely unarmed into Tolkien's world.
The worst part about the door was that it had refused to open the other way once Emil had let himself inside."Doors should not ever, ever open to Middle Earth. Narnia maybe, but not to Middle Earth!" he told himself. Years ago he would have been overjoyed to find a portal in his childhood bedroom. Now that he was a grown-up and cleaning the place out per request of his aged parents, he felt a little differently about the matter. Dealing with real-world monsters had made him more wary of fighting off those in books.
He had known the place once he had stepped in. The ruin was just as he had imagined it, not as he had seen it in the movies. It was odd that the portal should lead him to Amon Hen, that old and ill-fated ruin. But at least it meant there was water nearby, and water meant life and possibly a way out.
As he walked down a slope, following the sound of the river, he caught sight of multiple indentations among the mud and dry leaves."Great, orc tracks," he muttered. No human, hobbit, elf, or dwarf could leave such twisted footprints. His hand went to his belt and he cursed; he'd left behind his Swiss knife on his desk. He would have to rely on his wits, his bare hands, and whatever weapon he could improvise.
Emil sighed as he adjusted his shoes so they wouldn't fall off. He rolled up his pants and the sleeves of his t-shirt before casting about for a long stick to use as a staff or weapon. All the while he listened for the foosteps of any other travelers, be they friend or foe.