Hello all!

Just a quick note before we begin. First, I am a little out of my element here, as the only other story I have ever written was a very short Call of Duty fanfiction. However, I recently fell in love with J. R. R. Tolkien's massive universe, and so, I wish to try my hand at a story. With that said, I really will rely on feedback from the readers, as I have no beta, and I may get some lore about Middle Earth wrong.

With that said, I will also do my best, and hopefully create an engaging story!

So, please enjoy!


She had heard many tales of Bree-town in her youth, but what they had not prepared her for was the smell. Her nose crinkled up in disgust; she had not smelled something as foul as when she had taken a shortcut through Gobin Town in the Misty Mountains, and even that may have been giving a kindness to the goblins. Saerthwyn pulled her hood down and her cowl up, scowling as the rain persisted and fell harder. Underneath her, her steed shifted, also not liking the rain as she neighed miserably and shook out her mane. Giving her an encouraging pat and a murmured promise of oats, she urged her over the stone bridge that crossed the rain-swelled creek and breathed a sigh of relief as the south gate came into sight. The wood of the gate was beginning to rot and decay, and Saerthwyn knocked on it with cautiousness, afraid she would push it over with the slightest touch.

The panel of the gate slid open, and a withered eye looked out. "State yer business."

"I come for a warm bed and shelter from the rain at the inn," Saerthwyn replied easily, having said those words far too often for her liking. Alascene snorted and pawed underneath her, and her rider gave a small smile. "And a nice stabling for my friend here, as well."

"Tha Prancin' Pony'll provide all o' tha for ye, woman." The sliding panel of the door slid shut with a shriek, and the large gate began to open. Alascene headed through immediately, and it slammed shut behind them, almost catching the horse's tail. The gatekeeper, a crotchety old man with one good eye peered up at them with the light from a oil lamp. He scrutinized her sharply, the eye observing her dark garb and hood to her horse's packed saddlebags, before heaving a sigh and retreating back into the house, calling behind his shoulder at her. "Tha Pony is up that hill in front of ya, and stable is in the back. Keep yer nose to yerself, and no trouble, ya hear?"

"Yes, sir," Saerthwyn muttered, dropping the kidness from her tone immediately as she urged her horse out of the man's earshot. She slumped against the rain and let Alascene trot up the hill, to a rather large inn with a flaking, painted sign creaking in the winds. She tethered her mount, and gave her a quick pat and a reassuring murmur that she would only be a moment. Alascene snuffed her hand to let her know she understood and watched as her rider disappeared behind the heavy wooden door of the Prancing Pony.

Immediately she spotted the one Lord Elrond had asked her to seek; the dark, imposing figure smoking in the back of the dining room. He wasn't hard to miss. She adverted her eyes as she felt his gaze sweep her, and as she relaxed into a non-threatening pose, his gaze swept past her to the door again. Sighing, Saerthwyn was slightly disappointed; this man knew her better than most, and he still could not pick her out of a crowd. That, however, was something to be proud of as well, she decided; the act she could blend so easily into a crowd proved that years of hardship had produced a boon. Saerthwyn moved to the inn keeper, a jolly, whiskered man who was busy dolling out pints to patrons. She grabbed his attention and paid for room and board for two nights, as well as a bucket of oats for her horse. Heaving the metal bucket, she made it look like she could barely carry it, and began to walk toward the back door of the Pony, which conveniently placed her past the dark man's table. With quick fingers as she passed, she dropped Lord Elrond's note to him and kept moving, never once making eye contact or stopping to chat.

The door shut with a whumph behind her as Saerthwyn exited back into the rain. She allowed herself a second to lean against the door and breathe a sight of relief; not one patron had seen her drop the letter to Elrond's charge, she was sure of it. She hustled back to Alascene, who looked miserable in the rain, and led her back to the stables the Pony offered. The stablehand offered to take her steed off her hands, but Saerthwyn waved him off; she never let anyone take care of her responsibility but herself.

To her surprise, the straw bedding was clean, as was the water; the hay in the manger for her horse looked freshly cut and harvested. Alascene trotted right in, claiming her home for the next two nights, and allowed Saerthwyn to unhook her bridle and remove her bit before she dove into the hay. Saerthwyn inspected the leather, checking for cracks, but as always, the craftsmanship was impeccable. Hanging it on a nail, she loosened Alascene's saddle girth and gave her a pat, letting the sweat evaporate off her mount. It may have been raining outside, but it had been a hard ride from the Forsaken Inn in the Lonelands and she didn't want her best friend catching a chill.

Kindly, Saerthwyn asked the boy stablehand where she could obtain a bucket of water and brushes, and he eagerly ran to fetch them both for her. Laughing slightly at his enthusiasm, she scraped some mud off her boots onto the ground and waited for him to return. Breathing deeply, she let the smell of horse and straw soothe her and remind her of where she came from. It brought a pit of sadness into her stomach at the same time, and she quickly rubbed at her eyes, trying to avoid a stress headache.

Quick footsteps alerted her to the stablehand returning, and Saerthwyn winked at him before flipping him a silver piece. The small boy's eyes widened to twice their size; it was a hefty tip for a stableboy, and Saerthwyn knew it. He thanked her graciously and trotted off, and Saerthwyn laughed as she watched him bite into the silver to make sure it was real. Unlatching the door once again, she sidled back into the stall, Alascene glancing lazily at her. Hefting the saddle off her mount, she settled it on top of the stall door. She checked that for damage as well; the saddle was nothing but well worn and lovingly used. Saddlebags were all in order, she took note of that as well; none had been damaged in her ride, nor had they been tampered with.

"Alright, my friend," Saerthwyn sighed, unclasping her cloak and cowl and hanging them over the stall door as well. Running her hand over her fair hair, she made sure the knot that held it back was tight and on top pf her head before grabbing the water bucket. She dunked Alascene's bit into the water, cleaning the froth and spit from it so it would avoid rusting. That got hung on top of the saddle, and Saerthwyn made sure it was not tangled. Next came the bucket with the grooming supplies, and Saerthwyn started when something soft brushed against her hand. It was a dry cloth, and a smile crawled onto the woman's face as she realized the stabehand had provided it to dry her mount off. "Let's get you clean, Al."

Alascene whickered in approval as her rider began to pull the water off her coat with the towel. The poor mare was drenched; the water ran of in rivulets as Saerthwyn coaxed it out of her coat. Alascene was a big horse; much bigger than when Saerthwyn had originally found her, roaming the plains by herself and whinnying pitifully for her mother. Giving her rump a pat, Saerthwyn traded the drenched cloth for a brush, and began to brush out the sweat, dirt and grime from her coat. It started to gleam under her careful care, the horse went from mud covered back to her natural dark brown color. It took Saerthwyn to stand on her toes to reach her horse's back, and that was saying something, as Saerthwyn was tall herself.

"I think I am feeding you too much," Saerthwyn chuckled, scratching the white star on Alascene's forehead. The steed's eyes fluttered close and her chewing slowed; this was her favorite place to be scratched. Fondly, Saerthwyn looked upon her dearest friend, rubbing next behind her ear. A wave of sudden sorrow washed over Saerthwyn, and she pressed her forehead to the star on Alascene's. "What are we doing, my friend? We are not meant for this at all."

The main door the the stable creaked, and Saerthwyn froze, awaiting the hustled footsteps of the stablehand or the shuffling, dragging of the stablemaster. She heard neither; it was a cautious, long gait, and she knew who it was immediately; she slid into a crouch, intent on frightening the man. Creeping out of sight, she pressed up against the stall door, allowing the shadow of the door to cover her, held her breath, and waited.

The footsteps stopped in front of the low wooden wall, and she held back a laugh. Counting three to herself, she jumped straight up and twisted, slamming her arms down on the top of the door and grinning widely. Eyeing the shocked man in front of her, who had lurched backwards and grabbed the hilt of a hidden dagger, she laughed loudly as he sent her a glare. "Hail to the king! I do hope you know which end of that dagger to stick me with, should you choose to use it."

"Keep your voice down, Nimblefinger," he murmured, letting himself into the stall. Alascene flicked her ears toward him, but other than that, showed no interest in the intruder. Saerthwyn shrugged, dug the hoof pick out from the tool bucket, and went to work on Alascene's feet. The feeling of being lost in the world had been smothered, for now, and replaced with a forced and nervous jovial mood. She couldn't believe she was almost caught reminiscing and confused; that was the job of her enemies, not Saerthwyn, the Burglar!

"Five years, and you still chose to great me with one of my lesser titles. What of Thief of the Night, or Watcher of Roads, or especially Nemesis of the Fallen? That is a favorite of mine, personally," She grunted, lifting up Alascene's foot and scraping at the mud caked under it, and picked at it a little forcefully. "Never really understood where that came from, though."

"This note, from Lord Elrond," he cut her off, crossing his arms and watching her work. "His foresight and the Lady Galadriel's is once again impressive. Although, I do not think my brothers will leave their posts easily; you have a great task ahead of you, Saerthwyn. One which I hope you do not intend to partake alone."

"Once again, straight to business. Too serious for your own good, that's what my mother would say to you, if she wasn't dead. What am I calling you now these days? Strider, is it?" The surprised look that passed his face confirmed her assumption and bluff. "Good to know my eavesdropping skills haven't diminished. Thought I was getting old."

"Simply answer the question, Saerthwyn, that's all I ask of you, please. Do not dance around it." Strider rubbed between his eyes, probably stopping a headache. Dropping the second hoof, Saerthwyn moved onto the third.

"But where is the fun it that friend? Everyone needs a little mischief in their life." At the glare that came from underneath his hand, she bristled but relented, putting up her hands, trying to stop the sarcasm from slipping into her voice. That was the look of superiority, whether he realized it or not, but it reminded Saerthwyn of past wrongdoings done unfairly to her person. "I yield. As always, you are wiser than I; the time for jokes and games is not yet here. I forget myself, for I am but a mere simpleton, please forgive me; I have talked my way out of many a situation, and sometimes, I do not know how to stop."

His gaze softened, and he moved to Alascene's wither, scratching at skin that had been twitching in order to relive her itch. He took in the woman's appearance as she scrapped out the fourth and final hoof. She hid it well, but the woman was exhausted to the core; there were old mud stains on her armour which she had not yet removed, as well as darker, more sinister looking stains. As she stood, she winced at what Strider assumed to be a crick in her back, indicating many nights spent in the saddle or an injury that had not been healed properly. Realizing how his question must have sounded, he let out a hefty sigh and rubbed at his stubbled cheek before he reached out an placed a hand on her shoulder, causing Saerthwyn to freeze almost immediately. "I apologize, my friend, I did not intend to demean you. You are well, I hope?"

His hand on her shoulder provided an unwelcome feeling of comfort, on that she had not felt since her childhood years. It was the dangerous sort of comfort, that made one think of safety and a full night's sleep. Saerthwyn couldn't trust that kind of comfort anymore, not without a dagger under her pillow. That was the air that a true king gave off, she supposed. She quickly slipped out of the hand, moving to Alascene's tail, intent on braiding it.

"Well enough one can be in times such as these. The days grow darker, and it is not my preferred kind of darkness. The two of us ride hard each day to spread the warning, but I fear none shall listen to us west of the Golden Wood." She combed out a few tangles and Alascene tossed her head, not fond of the combing. "My apologies Al, but it must be done. Surely you have sensed it, Strider. There is a cloud of evil spreading over this land, and it must be stopped."

She fixed him with a pointed look and he diverted his eyes, her steely look still rather intimidating despite the absence their friendship had shared. "And you think you can stop it? Alone?"

"I am not the person to stop it, Strider, nor will I ever claim I am," Saethwyn said lowly, stressing his name. She tried to calm down, gathering the horsehair into three sections, but she found that she could not do so. "And while that may be the case, I refuse to stand idly by where there are tasks that I can do to assist. I am not alone; I have Alascene, and I have the dark. I will complete the task Lord Elrond has given to me, despite your ideas about it, and I will complete it to the best of my ability."

"But there are dangers out there that even you cannot face alone, Saerthwyn!" He barked, the sound sharp and cold in the warm stable. A few of the nearby horses snorted and pawed the ground, the outburst having made them anxious. Strider lowered his voice to a harsh murmur. "You are an excellent burglar, and an even better soldier, but one person cannot stand up to one hundred! With the Black Riders roaming the fields, the dead awaking and walking the lands, and orcs and wargs infesting every place they can, it is no longer safe for you to undertake this by yourself!"

She tied the braid off, biting her lip in frustration. She would never get him to see reason, not with the amount of concern for her he held onto throughout the years. Sometimes, she regretted ever making his acquaintance. She took some deep breaths, trying to get the red, angry color to recede from her face before replying. "Lord Elrond specifically gave this task to me, and I wish to do well by him. Please, Strider. I cannot ask for anyone to accompany me, for we both know Alascene can run faster than all of them. I am not looking for fights as I contact your brothers; I go simply as a messenger to prepare them, should the need arise!"

He studied her then, the gleam of determination in her eyes and also how closed she had just become to him. Her life had not been easy, he knew, and somewhere, deep in his gut, he knew she would be fine to take care of herself on her own. The matter still persisted, though, because he truly would be devastated if anything happened to her. They had been dear friends for the past five years, and he did not want all of it to be for naught. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and relenting. He never won against her anyway. "Pack a fur cloak for Forochel, for it is extremely cold. Lothrandir is very strange for requesting to study and to guard that area."

A grin spread over her face, and she offered her hand. He clasped it firmly, the clap resounding in the stall. "I will be sure to do so, Strider. I have already met Ranadir and Candaith, and informed them of the situation. They are ready to move at a moment's notice. Lord Elrond will send them ravens if the time arises. Ranadir was such a solemn man, and Candaith much like him; I hope not all of your kin are as such? I must have people who are willing to partake in some mischief!"

He smiled, and after that, they fell into easy conversation. Strider asked where she had been, and how his kin were doing. Saerthwyn did her best to answer his questions as she braided Alascene's mane, but made sure to leave out the details of her fighting escapades. That would only start another argument.

"Ah, I have forgotten! How silly of me." Saerthwyn thumped her palm on her forehead in mock jest, dramatically looking to her saddlebags. "The lady sent something with me for you, in case we were to meet."

She laughed as Strider straightened himself up, chest puffing up just a little. Digging out the sliver of cloth, she placed it into his hands and curled his fingers around it. "She said it was a preview of a future gift."

Already knowing what it was, Saerthwyn grabbed the bucket of oats from the ground and shook it, immediately grabbing Alascene's attention. The big mare turned and stuck her snout right into the bucket, eating heartily of her well earned treat. Saerthwyn scratched her neck, watching her horse fondly. A silence fell over the two, both caught up in their own thoughts. Saerthwyn thought of the road ahead, and pushed the thoughts of the road behind away. Those memories would not help her now.

Alascene finished her bucket of oats and snuffed Saerthwyn's pockets for more. She pushed her head aside jokingly, before giving her a good pat and wishing her friend a good sleep. Alascene bumped her head against Saerthwyn's back, to say goodnight, and retreated to the far corner to sleep. Replacing her damp cloak and cowl onto her head and shoulder, and grabbing her tack and saddlebags, Saerthwyn hefted them onto her arm while Strider opened the door for her, and they both made their way back to the Pony together, Saerthwyn offering to buy her friend a drink and he politely declining.

They entered the Prancing Pony and Saerthwyn excused herself to deposit her saddle in her room. It was nicely sized, and the bed did not seem to have many bugs in it, and for that, she was pleased. Dropping the tack in a corner of the room, she tapped around on the floorboards until she found a loose one and pried it up with one of her daggers, placing her saddlebags in the underneath compartment. Grabbing a few spare coins, she trotted out of the door, making sure to lock it with the key provided. Now that she had possessions in her life, she was very protective of them and never wanted to lose any of them!

She jumped back down the stairs and dodged the groping hand of a drunkard and nudged him to the side to slip around him. Once she was out of his line of sight, the drunk didn't care, and went back to chasing the barmaid. Plopping into the chair adjacent of Strider, she motioned for a drink before lounging back in her chair and observing the room. The cheer, the merriment, the laughter; it was not something Saerthwyn got to experience often, and a genuine smile was worming its way onto her face underneath her cowl.

The door opened, but no one walked in; Saerthwyn furrowed her eyebrows until she sucked in a deep breath. Strider slid his eyes over to her, over his smoking pipe, watching her. She felt all the happiness previously felt leave her in a gust, her stomach dropping to her feet. Then the four halflings came into her view, and she knew the danger was with them. Fighting the dread, she grasped the tankard of ale that was passed to her and kicked her feet up on the table, trying to still her fast beating heart and maintain a normal facade. The night was going to be a rather long one, and as she caught Strider's inquisitive glance and nodded, the dread simply grew, and she sensed that this night would not be kind to her.

"Well," she sighed, and took a long swig of her ale. "It looks like your party of four have arrived."