The Author Games: Literature

Ring Denial Entries

District 3 Female: Rosella Van Carter

The greatest of treasures were only embedded deep in the heart of stories. This was something Rosella knew through glancing at the pages of her favourite books in which she would occasionally seek comfort for her entire life. Every single word, printed black in differing fonts against the stark white pages, always had this way of entrancing her, aiding her in envisioning the world where her favourite characters dwelled in, where they sought the greatest of adventures...her books were like treasure troves, always welcoming her to embark on a new expedition, or relive the moments of glory from the old tales she had once read.

She could hardly dare to believe that this year's Hunger Games had granted her greatest wish—to physically explore those treasure troves, even if only for a moment. It was in the wintry world of Narnia where she wrote her first chapter; and now it was in this little charming home she suddenly found herself in, with treasures of various kinds piled around her in various heaps, where she knew her next challenge awaited her. She glanced back briefly at the wardrobe which she had come from, which continued to rattle violently, and wasted no time in bolting out the room. Through the long winding tunnel she ran, not stopping once for breath despite the protests in her throat until she reached a round dark green door. Taking a deep breath, she shoved it open, tumbling out of the tunnel into bright dazzling sunlight.

"Where am I?" Rosella wondered aloud, hungrily gulping in as much oxygen as she could as she surveyed her surroundings. This definitely wasn't Narnia. In fact, in place of the snow which had once blanketed the ground, a tapestry of fresh green grass gently swayed around her ankles in the summer breeze. Her eyes alighted on a giant tree just at the bottom of a gentle slope, and she squinted; there, she spotted a little table with food piled high on fancy platters, enough to seat around 30 guests. The place was well-lit with a string of little party lights of various bright colours woven through the trees, and somewhere nearby she saw a roughly painted banner bearing the words Happy Birthday, Bilbo Baggins.

"Bilbo Baggins..." She let the name roll off her tongue gently, frowning slightly as she glanced at the blue book in her hands, the title imprinted on it in silver: The Fellowship of the Rings.

She must be in Bag End, then, in the Shire.

She carefully began to descend down the slope towards the empty party, following the winding dirt road until she reached her destination. Almost instantly she frowned; only 18 spots at the table seemed to be in good condition, while the rest were charred so badly they could easily crumble under the lightest of pressure. The food was also left untouched. To top it all off, there was no one present. She felt a flicker of dread course through her system—something discomforting that made her clench her fists. Was she supposed to be here? What was going on?

"Hello! How fares you today, my lady?"

A voice from below suddenly caught her attention. She glanced down at a wizened little man with curly grey hair who was bouncing on the balls of his surprisingly bare feet in excitement, the twinkle in his eyes betraying no signs of his true age. He didn't look too bad for an old Hobbit, Rosella thought, and she bowed low to him in respect.

"Hello," she greeted him. "May I ask what the occasion is for such fancy decorations?"

The Hobbit chuckled. "My dear, you've come just in time for my eleventy-first birthday party!"

"Wait...a birthday party?"

"Yes, yes! Now come! Make yourself comfortable!" the Hobbit cried, taking Rosella by the hand and leading her to a little wooden stool just close by the tree. Rosella beamed at him in thanks, but before she could sit the Hobbit held out his hand.