A/N: I do not own the Hobbit nor any of its creations. It belongs to great J.R.R. Tolkien and the wonderful visions of Peter Jackson made real by MGM and New Line Cinema. I own Fallon, her family, background and heritage. I make no profit from this story and only seek to bring entertainment to other like-minded individuals as myself. Thank you and please review.

Prologue

Here lies Slavin son of Roark

Beloved Brother and Uncle

May the stars light his path forevermore

I looked at the gravestone of black marble with engravings filled with silver. My uncle, the man who had become the most constant presence and sense of comfort during my life, was gone. Unbidden, memories of my last known relative came to the forefront of my mind.

*Flashback*

"Fallon, where've you gotten to now?"

The deep baritone seemed to echo in the ears of my ten-year old self. It didn't take long for my uncle to find me; he always did. He pulled me from under the workbench in his forge where he did his engravings and lifted me onto the surface of it. His green eyes dimmed as he saw the reason for my hiding. Large fingers belonging to equally large hands wiped the tears and all evidence of them away, only leaving the sadness reflected in similar green eyes.

"What happened, Grá Beag? Why do you cry?"

"Na páistí ar scoil rinne scéalta grinn faoi mo chuid gruaige." (The kids at school made jokes about my hair.)

I easily slipped into my Mother-tongue in my emotional state.

Uncle Slavin tutted at me before replying, "You're special, Fallon. Not everyone will see it, especially here where many things go unappreciated. One day your destiny will rise to meet you and everything will fall into place as it should. Until then, remember...being different isn't a bad thing. Being different will set you apart and enable you to accomplish great things."

*End Flashback*

I remember smiling smally before grinning widely when Uncle Slavin offered to let me watch him create a necklace for a customer's order. I loved watching him smith things from different metals, like unique art pieces to jewerly and the occasional weapon. He was my teacher and mentor; teaching all manners of things, from smithing and crafting to leather-working to fighting with swords, bow and arrow and many throwing weapons likes knives and axes. He taught me philosophy and about how we should treasure life. He taught me languages the like of which couldn't be found anywhere else in the world. I loved spending hours just pouring over a strange gathering of texts, learning something no one else knew; regardless, that he was the only one I'd ever be able to speak to about it all.

It was like I was living two separate lives. One where I'd go to public school like any other child and young adult, socialize with the small clique that was made up of people who only spoke to one another as acquaintances and traveled through the town as if it were a different world. The second, more truthful life, was much more real to me. Where I'd come home to the ranch in the plains of Colorado, help the ranch-hands with the various chores and learn everything I could from my uncle. It was a life of doing everything for yourself and there was nothing better than the feeling of accomplishment when the day came to an end. We'd go hunting every weekend and spent the night in the forests, roughing it with sleeping bags under the starry sky and using old-fashioned ways for everything. Many would hate the lack of modern conveniences but I found it unique.

With a last look at the gravestone that marked my uncle's resting place, I walked away to pull myself into Apollo's saddle to start our trek. He was a Akhal-Teke breed with a dark golden coat that shone lighter gold in the sun and legs that darkened into black stockings with a black mane and tail. He was shorter than most of his breed because of complications during his birth. They thought he'd die early but my uncle bought him anyway. He survived to be a strong-willed, trustworthy companion though stuck somewhere between the size of a pony and a horse. The way through the forest was over grown and I led Apollo carefully by memory. While our hunting trips were frequent, Uncle Slavin only took me to my current destination once a year. It was now his last request that I make the trip alone and from his letter it sounded vital. The journey would take three days and as requested, I would camp the night of the Winter Solstice at my destination.

Fallon,

If you are reading this, it means I've passed on from this world.

I may not be visible to you but I am with you always in your heart.

Never forget that.

I need you to grant me a last request and know that it is for the best.

You cannot ignore your destiny for it is a great one.

But remember that the path to greatness is not paved smoothly and without obstacle.

I ask that you make the journey to the Ring of Destined Paths.

Take everything you will need for a long journey, including your armor and weapons.

ALso, there is a brown satchel in the bottom of my chest that you need to take with you.

Do not open it until the day after the Winter Solstice.

You need to spent the night of the Solstice with the Ring near the pond.

I know it sounds strange but you will need everything I've mentioned.

Trust me.

Remember all that I taught you and that in times of turmoil, I will be there in spirit to wipe the tears away.

Everything will be explained in due time.

Love always,

Your Uncle Slavin

Three days passed quickly and I arrived at the Ring in the late evening. The setting sun gave enough light in which to set up camp. I removed the saddle and bags from Apollo before settling him near to the pond. I gave him an apple before taking one for myself and looking around. The Ring consisted of tall stones, rectangle in shape in a circle with the pond in the center. Strange engravings marked each stone as different but part of a greater whole. I lay down on my sleeping bag, watching the sky as it slowly turned from oranges and reds to purple then dark blue studded with stars. Night fell quickly and I soon drifted off to sleep.

I jerked into awareness and looked around me. The wind had picked up and showed no signs of slowing. I quickly rolled my sleeping bag up and attached it to saddle. Calling Apollo over, he obediently came though he was obviously spooked by the sudden storm. Thunder started roaring overhead as I saddled Apollo with everything. Just as I pulled myself on him, the lightning started. At the second strike, I was trying to control Apollo's jerky the third strike, I was trying to control my own fear as the strike hit one of the stones. At the fourth strike, Apollo bucked and it was only with my experience that I wasn't thrown. Lightning was shifting from stone to stone like a visible electric fence, leaving no room for escape. The wind was whipping my hair around my face and burning my exposed skin. The loudest clap of thunder sounded from above and Apollo jerked onto his hind legs. I flew to the ground but didn't feel the impact. Darkness swallowed me with a last flash of pale lightning.