From a discussion on deleterius:

[camwyn]

Someone said they wanted to see a fic where the depressingly common Girl Who Falls Into Middle-Earth From Modern Terra is expecting the wrong kind of elf ("fix my shoes! grant a wish! don't steal my baby!"). I thought about this for a bit, and then came up with a different idea.


Lara pushed herself to her knees, shaking her head furiously to clear it. The explosion outside the con had been pretty powerful, but she hadn't seen open soil and grass anywhere near the hotel. If it had thrown her this far, why wasn't anything broken? There was green everywhere.

So green. There was nowhere like this in the city. She had to have been punched through to... somewhere else.

Behind her, someone cleared his throat. She managed to turn about despite the dizzying rush of blood through her head. She still wasn't seeing quite clearly, but she could make out a man in robes- dark hair- strong eyebrows-

And pointy ears. That, she could see for sure.

She scrabbled frantically for the words she'd taught herself in preparation for the con. "Jolan'tru, lhhai..."

The eyebrows went up sharply; she tried again. "Shaoi kon, enarrain?"

And then the figure spoke, and she realised that neither her Starfleet uniform nor her knowledge of the Romulan language would do her a damn bit of good.


Because, y'know, not all fen are necessarily cross-fertile.