Hey guys! This is my first attempt at a Hobbit story. I hope you'll enjoy it. The story idea came to me and the shower and would not let me sleep until I wrote it down.

I have tried to be as accurate as possible without stealing too much of Tolkiens' work. I have a map up and the hobbit up in a separate tab and loads of Hobbit information. It will probably be movie and book based.

Disclaimer: All recognized characters/ scenes/ quotes do not belong to me, I am just borrowing them! The OC/ plot only belongs to me. :)

Chapter 1

The rhythmic, soft thump woke me from a deep slumber. I squinted in the darkness of the night, seeing nothing in front of me; the only source of light in the pitch black came from the stars that shone proudly through the glass pane. The thumping continued and I rose from the warmth of my blankets, my feet finding the boots I stored beside my bedroll at the end of every day. The fire in the hearth had long since gone out and the air was chilly.

I felt my way across the room as the thumping continued, slowly getting louder. I kept my fingers on the surface of the walls I knew so well, as I struggled in the darkness to find the source of the sound. I was silent, not wanting to wake my parents whom were sleeping not far from my own room. Opening the large wooden door, I peered out into the darkness, the moon now lighting my way. It was the winter months and the wind blew slightly, chilling me and I wrapped my arms around me. I followed the noise, wary and with no means of protecting myself I kept myself hidden in the trees as the thumping got louder now- much closer than before.

I stumbled back from the noise, my back now pressed against a small tree. Large, wide shadows emerged from the trees and I slammed a hand over my mouth to stop noise coming out. I felt like screaming. My breath was coming out hard and my eyes widened as I saw their path; the building I had been in not long before.

I wanted to run. I wanted to run to my parents, and I wanted to run in the opposite direction. I was terrified and I knew what would happen before it had even begun. The gruesome stories had long been told, of trolls eating human flesh, of trolls crushing bones and sitting upon you, a story often told to stop young children wondering the forest alone.

It was a story that was coming true before my very eyes. I could hear nothing as the trolls destroyed through the wood my home was made from, kicking the wood and searching through it for the meal they desired. Human flesh.

I watched as they sat around the devastated building that used to be my home as though it were a camp fire and tore my parents to pieces before they could made a sound.

My legs unfroze and I turned and ran into the safety of the forest.

I blinked. My body was tense and poised against the floor; waiting for the small, scrawny rabbit an arms-length away from me to turn its back and let down its guard. I had been in this position since long before dawn, knowing that rabbits and other small game eventually come here to eat. In one hand I clutched a dagger, one of the very few items I owned. Its sharp edge gleamed at the sun rose over the tall trees and the rabbit looked up before scampering away out of sight. I rose quickly from the ground and I stood up scanning the greenery around me. My brows came down in anger and I cursed myself for allowing a possible meal to escape. Kicking a rock closest to me, I began trailing through the forests in disappointment. I hadn't had a bit of meat in over a month. I was hungry. I was more than hungry. The fish I had caught from the river 5 days ago was long gone and I had neither the patience nor the energy to walk the long path west to the nearest river. The rabbit had been the last bit of hope, I was sick of eating leaves that were fit for making remedies and nothing more. I slipped the clean, sharp dagger into my belt and continued onwards.

As I walked back to the rocks I brushed down my dirty tunic, it was one of my only pieces of clothing and its age was showing. The edges were fraying badly and it had far too many holes to protect me against the upcoming winters. My breeches were not faring much better, now very discoloured after years of use and stained in places. Since I only owned a few pieces of clothing, these were worn almost constantly, only taken off for a quick wash in the river Hoarwell when was vitally necessary.

The sun was bearing down through the thick trees, hitting only small spots on the floor of the forest, I pushed my way through the familiar pathways of the forest- I had been through here almost every day since then, coming for food or water or plants. I stopped to bend down some herbs, athelas, not for eating but a very useful herb for healing cuts and wounds, cuts were very common when walking through thick and unforgiving forests. I sniffed it and its sweet smell made me smile slightly. I was glad for it, I didn't have much but I was glad to be close to Rivendell as herbs thrived here.

I sniffed as I thought of Rivendell. My father had commented on many aspects of the races of middle earth, drilling in to me how many races didn't like other races. Dwarves hated Elves, Elves of Mirkwood didn't like Men, and Elves also disliked Elves. Most were untrusting of other kingdoms. We had stayed well away from others, of our own race and of other races. My parents loved the solitude of a dwelling in the forests. I hadn't minded either- I had loved being able to wonder and having freedom and of having no king to answer too.

I walked the familiar path to the place I now called home. It wasn't cosy, and it didn't smell nice but it kept me dry and I felt safe. I walked into the small cave and set down my belt that kept the dagger and the herbs I had picked up. I picked up the water skin and took a generous gulp of water before scolding myself and putting it down. It was more than half a day's walk to the Hoarwell River and if I ran out of water I would suffer. I knew I would need to venture there in the morrow for water and an attempt at fishing but that didn't mean I would be allowed to be greedy. I sat on the home- made bed roll, it was really just dried grass and leaves and the few blankets I had managed to save from my home, and began to crunch my way through the last of the roots and leaves I had. I smirked. It was hard to imagine that some people were just able to go into a stall and there was everything one could need. I couldn't imagine just going to a market and purchasing something with gold- it was never part of my life, my father had always hunted or grown or whatever we might have needed.

I woke just before dawn, as I usually did and stayed lying there as the harsh orange sun began its descent into the sky; it showed through the cave entrance and pierced the darkness. I had planned on journeying to the river today in hope of catching some fish, and needed the light to be able to navigate the forests. In spite on the bright sun, it was a chilly morn and I buried myself deep into the blankets I was able to scavenge from the wreckage of my old abode.

After the herd of trolls had been and destroyed everything I knew, I had stayed away for months unable to face going looking back at such an eventful night. I had tried venturing towards the house many times before giving into my fear and retreating back into the safety of the trees. Eventually the air was too cold and I had to find some sort of warmth and my desperation had brought be back to the house, most items had been crushed to dust by trolls, items I had used daily were barely recognisable but I was able to find some blankets and a fur coverlet. I also was able to find a few pieces of clothing, although most had been damaged by the winter weather. Any food their might have been was now soiled and unrecognizable.

The items I had been able to use were quickly put into the bag I had once used for foraging. The most invaluable item I was able to find was a dagger my father had owned; it had been buried deep under the roof of our home, in what I presumed to be the kitchen area. The silver blade was simple and the hilt was ivory, it would come to be the most useful tool and would enable my survival over the coming years.

It was getting colder, I was sure of it. Before even stepping out of the small cave entrance I could see the fog of my breath and my fingers were tingling. I put on every item of clothing I owned, fighting against the bitter weather. The two tunics fitted on top of each other easily and the leather jacket I wore so often was tied with my belt around my waist. My breeches were tucked into the brown boots I wore. The dagger was protruding from the belt and the little pocket was full of athelas leaves. I grabbed my two water skins and looked around once more, before leaving the safety of the cave.

The walk to the water's edge took me till noon time, the sun was high in the sky and it was warmer now. The water, however, was freezing cold as I dipped my hands in to rid them of the weeks' worth of dirt. I poured the remains of the water from the water skin and filled it with fresh water. I washed my face, bringing the cold water to my skin. In water this cold, dared not wash my hair so I braided it back out of the way behind my head, tying it was a small strip of rag off my tunic.

Although I enjoyed being close to the river, it was loud and I felt uneasy being out of the safety of the trees. I could see the sky clearly, meaning that I was unprotected and I could also be easily seen. It was a necessary evil for survival though and I stood up and looked over the edge of the bank- it was relatively still water- a gentle stream today which meant it should be easy to catch a small fish or two.

For hours I peered into the water, occasional fish wandered by and when they did I clasped my dagger harder and plunged it into the frigidly cold river. I usually missed, the fish getting the better of me and swimming away much too quickly so I couldn't contain the smile that was upon my face when the dagger caught some soft and wriggly. The fish was not bigger than my hand, but it was certainly better than nothing and I looked forward to cooking it later. The cooking part, I was not looking forward too. Lighting a fire was always risky, and I did it only on rare occasions when I killed fish or game. I put the fish away in the pouch on my belt after wrapping it in a small rag and picked up my water skins and began heading back through the trees. It was now after- noon time and birds sung as they headed to the safety of their own nests.

I was almost home, and began picking up wood I would be able to use for fire stacking them in my arms, when I heard a noise. I stood up quick and my hand automatically went to the hilt on my dagger, unsheathing it and holding it and chest height in front of me. I crept closer to a tree and listened out. Now, after 6 years of residing in the forest, I had grown used to noises such as birds and trees and rivers and anything else was out of the ordinary and strange and I didn't like it.

This noise in particular was one I hadn't heard in a while; in over six winters to be exact.

Voices.

I would really appreciate reviews, I will only continue this story if I am sure that at least one person is reading it. Reviews will make me write faster! CC is also welcome.