I do not own LOTR or the HOBBIT. If I did, I would not be using this site and would be printing my own books, rolling in money, and living a carefree and happy life. But no, I'm a broke college student. Dammit.
*sigh* Not another OC story!
Yes, another OC story, haha. I hope you all enjoy!
"Go away."
Gandalf felt the weight of the woman's scowl before he even made eye contact. He had ridden an eagle south to the far country of Harad where the great forests of Gondor flattened into sloping hills and sweeping plains. Harad was a loose term for the various alliances of city-states which were largely located on the western coastline where they flourished on trade with Gondor and Eriador.
It was not a united land, but the people were strong and prosperous, and far more diverse than the northern countries. In the average marketplace of Harad one would see the tanned tribal men from the east, ebony skinned strangers from mysterious lands further south, and the pale men of the north. Dwarves were common too, especially dwarves which held no relation to the dwarves of the north where Gandalf hailed from. These were dwarves from the east, slighter than what Gandalf was used to seeing, but just as rough and rowdy. He had yet to see any elves this far south, though he had heard of foreign elf races in the far east, though they never traveled west and preferred to trade through caravan middle-men.
The woman that sat before him was none of these things. Her skin was a tan, to which many would simply assume that she was a descendant of the eastern tribes. Reinforcing the notion were the tattoos which spread across her body, arcing strokes of black which followed the lines of her body. They spread to her face too, looping flowers and swirls gracing her forehead like a crown before twining gracefully down her temples until the tips brushed the top of high, sharp cheekbones. In the hollows cast by her cheekbones on either side were two thin streaks in a shape, the lower ends trailing down to her jawline and extending down her neck where they joined the rest of her tattoo swirls across her collarbone.
However Gandalf knew that this woman was of a far greater lineage than the eastern wildmen. When she turned to glare at the wizard, dark chocolate eyes flashed golden in the dim light of the bar and the air crackled as she briefly touched her magic to his, warning him that she was ready to fight if need be. Not that the woman would need magic to defeat him, Gandalf mused as he glanced at the woman's armor and weapons. She was traveling light today, which wasn't saying much.
"I mean you no harm, my lady." Gandalf assured her.
The woman scoffed, turning back to her drink at the bar. Her hair was plaited into intricate braids, tinkling with beads and feathers. Her ears were hidden by her hair, but Gandalf had seen previously that her ears were far longer and more pointed than any elf, and were strewn with piercings and small chains linked by studs. Odd indeed. She drank her spirit in earnest, speaking to Gandalf over her shoulder. "You've been watching me for days. I thought maybe you would just go away, but no. You insist on being a pain in my ass. What do you want from me, old man?"
"Surely you do not believe that I am merely an old man?" Gandalf posed his question good naturedly, eyes twinkling as they were wont to do.
Again, the woman scoffed into her drink. "Of course not. I can feel your magic. It makes me wonder what a powerful being like you is doing bothering an insignificant little thing like me."
Gandalf laughed heartily at her dry wit. True, the woman was quite short, but any man with eyes and a brain could see that she was hardly insignificant. Only an idiot would dare pick a fight with a woman that was clearly a trained killer.
"I was hoping to persuade you to join me on an adventure." Gandalf proposed.
The woman languidly spun around on her bar stool, peering lazily at the old man over the rim of her pint. "If you want drugs, you're in the wrong tavern. Look into the alley between Shipwreck Davies and the weaponsmith."
"I assure you I am quite serious." Gandalf smiled at her.
She gave him a flat stare. "…Bullocks. You're crazy aren't you?"
Gandalf chuckled at her continued denial. That only seemed to anger her, however, judging by the way the leather of her gloves creaked from how tight her grip on the ale mug was. The other guests in the tavern began to not-so-subtly scoot away from the imposing woman who was quite infamous in the port city underground. Before the woman could lose her temper, Gandalf flared his magic so that it touch upon her senses in a brief wave, not enough to stagger her, but enough for her to realize who he was.
"Istari…" The woman breathed, eyes widening before narrowing into dangerous slits. "Why is one of your kind here?"
"We need you, my lady." Gandalf admitted.
She stood abruptly, slamming her ale mug onto the counter. The bartender and patrons jumped at the sound, many beginning to slip out of the tavern to avoid what they thought was sure to be a bloody confrontation.
"I vowed never to return to your lands, istari!" The woman hissed. "I refuse!"
"The darkness is rising again." Gandalf pleaded with her. "They will be looking for servants –"
"All the more reason to never return." She sneered. "In case you have conveniently forgotten, istari, my people were slaughtered in the War of the Last Alliance. There are no more of us. I have nothing to offer you in the coming conflict."
"Then at least do what you can!" Gandalf rebutted, gripping his staff. "A dragon sleeps in Erebor –"
"Smaug?" The woman interrupted a derisive snort. "That old lizard is still in that musty old mountain?"
"Indeed." Gandalf nodded. "And a company of dwarves wish to retake their kingdom. They are intent on slaying the dragon."
"Fat chance." The woman snorted. "Smaug will turn them into crispy critters before they can even waggle their beards."
Gandalf sighed in exasperation. "I want to save him, my lady."
The woman choked on her next words, patting her chest and clearing her throat with a grimace. "W-What? Are you insane?!"
"If Smaug can be swayed to our side then we have a higher chance of thwarting the Dark One when he rises once again!" Gandalf persuaded, smacking his staff on the wooden floorboards to emphasize his point.
"And what makes you think that I am the one who can do this?" She raised one eyebrow and gave the wizard a disbelieving look.
"Your people were dragon-tamers, were they not?" Gandalf questioned.
The woman glared at the wizard but gave him a noncommittal hum.
"My answer is still no. You couldn't pay me to go back to that god-forsaken land." She declared with a haughty tone, leaning back against the bar and crossing her arms.
"My offer is not of monetary value." Gandalf replied with an alarming twinkle in his eye. The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "The draconian population was nearly wiped out after the War of the Alliance, yes? I am offering you the chance to save what is left of their species!"
She snorted. "I thought all you northerners despised dragons?"
"But your people lived in peace with their kind. And don't the tribes of the east worship dragons as benevolent spirits?" Gandalf pointed out. "Proof that not all dragons are evil. There were dragons that fought for the Light as well! Yet no one bothered to remember."
She paused, an unsure expression on her face. "Tis true, yes..." She sighed, "But Smaug is meaningless to me. Why should I save him? He fought for the Dark One!"
"Because he may be the only one left." The wizard stated seriously. "It would be a tragedy to watch such a magnificent species die out in such a way. What would your people have done? What would your family want you to do?"
A guilty look flashed across her features, and the woman glanced down at her ale with a scowl and muttered a few choice words in defeat.
"Fine. But if a dragon is to be saved, a bargain must be made." The woman pinned him with a flinty gaze. "If Smaug can be persuaded - and that's a big if - then he will be under MY command. Not the istari, not the elves, and definitely not the humans or dwarves. Understand? "
The wizard hesitated for a moment, thinking of the disapproval he would probably recieve from Saruman and his peers for this. With a great sigh, Gandalf complied. "I agree to your terms, my lady. "
A small smirk of victory curled upon her lips, hey eyes glinting with Cheshire satisfaction.
"Then you have a deal, istari. "
Gandalf nodded, unsure of what she meant by that answer. He motioned for her to follow him, explaining as he spoke. "You will be travelling with a company of the dwarves of Erebor, one of which is the rightful heir to their lost kingdom. He will be the leader of the company, though I warn you, Thorin will be quite displeased at your presence –" The woman rolled her eyes at the thought –" but the rest of the dwarves are reasonable men. There will be one other member of the company who is not a dwarf, and that is our burglar. The journey will begin at Master Baggin's estate, to which I will guide you."
Gandalf led his guest through the streets of the southern city, silently cursing his heavy cloak as the southern sun beat down upon them. The woman was unaffected by such weather however, wearing light leather and used to the heat. It had been a long time since she had been up north. Gandalf pressed onwards to the city limits, leading her to a rare cluster of trees where their ride awaited.
The woman paused as she stared at the giant eagle. She turned to give the wizard a flat glare. "You ride this?"
"'This' has a name, human." The eagle huffed, ruffling his feathers at her dismissal of him. "However," The eagle sniffed the woman, making her draw away with narrowed eyes, "you do not smell very human. Although the stench of ale could have convinced me otherwise."
The woman scowled at the great bird. "Great, a sassy eagle. Anything else up your sleeve, istari?" She turned to Gandalf with a sardonic look.
The wizard chuckled. "Well, I suggest you apologize to Gawain before you mount, otherwise the ride back will not be very pleasant."
Gawain preened at her expectantly. The woman's scowl darkened as she muttered a rathing scathing comment about oversized pigeons.
"I am sorry, humanoid, did you say something?" Gawain cocked his head and blinked his large gray eyes. "I am afraid I did not hear what you said."
"I said I apologize for my earlier rudeness and hope to have a lovely trip with you." The woman growled through her teeth with false sweetness. It didn't help that Gandalf found this highly amusing, eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes with a suppressed smile. When the wizard turned to mount the eagle, she stuck her tongue out at the great bird. The bird's eyes flashed in amusement as the woman easily leapt onto its back and situated herself in front of the wizard.
"Hold on." The bird warned before taking to the skies. The woman lurched forward and grasped his plumage in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut.
"I think I'm gonna be sick." She muttered, burying her face into the eagle's feathers and attempting to measure her breathing.
The wizard and eagle just laughed.
{::... ҉ ..::}
The Shire was a quaint place, she decided. Although, she could have done without the suspicious and scared glances she was receiving from its inhabitants. Of course, they were perfectly right to be wary of a cloaked stranger armed to the teeth, cowl hiding any facial detail with an unnatural darkness. If they hadn't, she would probably have worried for their mental states. But since Gandalf was known in the area, and always had he been a guardian to the peaceful people of Hobbiton, the Hobbits otherwise left her alone. Still, she was under no illusion that it was Gandalf that they trusted, and far from her.
Said wizard was taking long, easy strides through the sleeping hills, winding confidently through the maze of dirt paths. She easily lost track of how many dips and turns they had taken, only knowing that they were close to their destination when Gandalf angled their route towards a certain Hobbit hole. The round door was nestled in the side of a lovely little hill, freshly painted in a forest green, only broken by an oddly glowing rune. Several blooms were strategically placed along the stairs leading up to the door, adding a friendly aroma in the air. Everything looked so peaceful, until they approached the door.
The commotion coming from behind the door sounded like a small war!
Her hand was already reaching for the pommel of her sword when Gandalf lifted a placating hand. His eyes twinkled, and she realized it was probably dwarven revelry. This is gonna wear on my instincts… She resisted the urge to rub her forehead in annoyance, already imagining the dwarves attempting to wake her in the morning only to find a dagger in their throats. She would have to be extra careful to keep her violent reactions to a minimum.
Gandalf knocked quite loudly on the door in order to be heard over the dwarven chanting. A haggard-looking hobbit answered the door, his indignant expression turning into dismay at the sight of Gandalf and a cloaked stranger. She felt a twinge of pity for the little guy, knowing that dwarves were not easy creatures to put up with.
"Gandalf." The hobbit sighed with a flat look, looking at him as if he should have expected the wizard to be behind the whole debacle. She held back a giggle.
"Sorry I'm late!" Gandalf exclaimed, nearly doubling over in order to enter the short doorway, skillfully ignoring the spluttering hobbit. He was already heading towards the dining room where a loud roar of welcome rose up from the table of dwarves.
The hobbit sighed and pulled on his curls in frustration, before abruptly turning to face her, as if he had forgotten her presence. He stared nervously at her cloaked figure. "Are you –" he cleared his throat nervously –"Are you a part of this as well?"
She let out a low chuckle, and the small man jumped at her distinctly feminine sound. Right, he probably was not expecting a woman. None of the men in the company would. Her cloak parted as she lifted a hand to pat his head gently, although the hobbit was too busy staring at the blade sheathed at her side the moment her cloak shifted.
"I am just as unwilling in this as you are, my small friend." She murmured softly. The hobbit blinked dazedly at her, as if mesmerized by her voice. Right, unexpected female presence.
"Y-you…"
But she was already stepping through the doorway, slightly put out by the fact that she did not even have to dip her head to avoid the archway. Sometimes she forgot how short she was. I swear if any of those dwarves are taller than me, I will pitch a fit, she thought ruefully.
By natural instinct she stuck to the shadows, making herself comfortable in a darkened corner of the parlor. The parlor was connected by an archway into the dining room, giving her an easy view into the dwarf-infested room. No one noticed her presence, and the hobbit was too busy complaining and subsequently being ignored.
The dwarves were curious creatures. She did not think that she had ever seen a race with so much hair! The various braids and beaded ornamentations reminded her of own, although sans beards. And what glorious beards they possessed. The squat and fat dwarf in particular had a thick, looping braid of red that rest atop his generous belly. Still, the sight of the dwarves worried her. They were not all warriors, that much was clear. In fact, she would guess more than one or two of those dwarves were too old to be taking part in a perilous quest. She frowned, wondering if the exiled dwarves of Erebor were truly so desperate.
"Why are you so late, Master Gandalf?" One of the dwarves asked the istari.
"Ah, well you see I had to travel very far to fetch…" the wizard trailed off as he looked around, realizing that he had lost the subject of his sentence. "Oh now where did that little one run off to?"
She bristled at the nickname but resisted the urge to snap at him, placating herself by imagining herself pick up a nearby bowl of fruit and throwing each piece one by one at his stupid pointy hat. The thought was surprisingly comforting.
At the wizard's distraction, the rabble of dwarves began to harass the poor little man (what was it called again? A ribbit? A robot? Hibbit?) whose hospitality they were sadly misusing. To her annoyance they even burst forth into song. Who did that anyway? Singing about cutlery, of all things! They even began tossing plates and utensils back and forth, with surprising dexterity for dwarves, considering that she usually associated their kind with bumbling oafs and drunkards. Although some of the dwarves were already tipsy, so she supposed that her stereotyping was not too far off.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Everyone seemed to freeze at the sound.
"He is here." Gandalf stated solemnly as he rose to answer the door. She furrowed her brows; just how large was this company supposed to be?
Swinging open the entrance to the hobbit hole, Gandalf was greeted by a deep, resonating voice. Yet another dwarf stepped inside, although this one held himself differently than the rest. He was older, but not yet past his prime. His face was lined with stress and worry, looking as if it were permanently set into a scowl. His beard was neatly trimmed and contoured to his face, and his hair was surprisingly neat and combed. One could easily tell that he was noble, for there was no mistaking the authority of his voice, nor the rich dyes and furs of his clothing. Ah, this must be the exiled king then. Yes, Gandalf had warned him of his rather grumpy nature.
"I thought that you said that this place would be easy to find," Thorin said in a haughty voice to the wizard, unfastening his cloak, "Wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door."
This comment seemed to disturb the hobbit very much as he began to protest something about the door being newly paint and whatnot. Poor sod. He still had yet to learn that there was no winning when Gandalf decided to meddle about.
"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf addressed the hobbit, "Allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield."
"So… this is the hobbit." The dwarf king gazed arrogantly at the smaller man. He then began to interrogate the hobbit about his fighting skills (or lack thereof from what she had observed already), circling him like a predator, finally ending his insult with, "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."
The other dwarves laughed right on cue, and the hobbit –Bilbo if she remembered correctly –glared after them. Aha, so there was a fighting spirit hidden inside. Perhaps the peaceful little guy would learn how to fight after all, given time. He would certainly have the opportunity during the course of the quest. Perchance she would even help him along.
Gandalf ushered Bilbo into the dining room to join the company seated around the table, though while Bilbo continued to stare incredulously at the dwarves, the wizard glanced around the house for any trace of his other guest.
"Oh come now!" Gandalf huffed, seemingly to no one in particular. "You can't hide from them forever!"
Quite at home in her little shadowy corner, the intended of Gandalf's comment sneered but declined to make a comment. She had never gotten along with dwarves, and her first impression of Thorin Oakenshield was that any conversation between the two of them would likely turn into an all-out war. For a brief moment she considered slipping out the door and disappearing into the night, but she knew that Gandalf was not so easily dissuaded.
"Gandalf!" The voice of the dwarf-king called from the dining room. "I thought you said there would be one more person!"
Gandalf stared pointedly in the direction of her little corner before turning to address Thorin. "Ah, hm, our other guest seems to avoiding us all."
She crept closer to the entrance of the dining room, though she kept out of sight of the entryway so that only Gandalf could see her.
"Whatever for?" Thorin scoffed. "Invite them in so that I may have a look at them."
{::... ҉ ..::}
The company of dwarves leaned forward onto the table, each just as curious as the next to see what all the hubbub was about this last member. Bilbo showed interest too, remembering the fact that this member was a woman, of all things. The hobbit glanced at Thorin, wondering how the uppity dwarf king was going to react to her presence. He doubted that this would go over well.
Gandalf stepped to the side as a figure hidden by a gray cloak seemed to materialize next to him. Bilbo could hear a couple of the dwarves gasp at the sudden ominous appearance. Thorin Oakenshield narrowed his eyes as he, and a few of the older dwarves as well, noted how slender the figure was. But surely Gandalf would never invite a woman…? The king knew that it was probably too much to hope for from the peculiar wizard. That man always found a way to start a scandal.
"My friends," Gandalf's voice cut through the tense silence, "May I introduce Lady –"
"I can introduce myself, thank you Gandalf." A soft, chiming voice interrupted. Several of the dwarves jerked at the sound of the feminine voice.
Before the woman even had time to remove the hood of her cloak, Thorin was standing up in anger, his chair scraping the floor loudly, and his hands slamming onto the table. He appeared akin to a storm, black hair streaked with gray, eyes dark and flashing, expression just as terrifying. "Absolutely not!"
Gandalf pinned the dwarf-king with a scolding look but Thorin would have none of it. "A quest is no place for a woman!"
The woman in question scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. The action caused her cloak to ripple like liquid silver as it fell open with the position of her arms. An unexpectedly small figure was revealed, face obscured by the hood of her cloak, armored in reinforced leather from the chest down, knee-high boots with steel plating on the toe, heel, and knees. Elbow-length gloves could be seen, again with sharpened steel on the elbows and sharp metal knuckles, the fingertips cut off for dexterity, although it was still hard to determine skin tone. Those who studied her were aware of the two sword-pommels that hung at her hips, and noted the dagger strapped to her right thigh and another just barely peeking out from her left boot.
If one were to ask Bilbo, this woman was looked far more appropriate for a dangerous quest than half of the dwarves in the company. However this mattered little to Thorin. It was the principle of the matter! The dwarf-king did not care whether humans took care of their women or not, dwarves certainly would never allow a woman of any race to leap headlong into battle!
"Do not be rash, Thorin!" Gandalf admonished. "You need her! I daresay she will be the most helpful person on this quest!"
The very idea seemed ludicrous to Thorin. Yet as he opened his mouth to continue arguing with the wizard, someone silenced them all.
"That is enough!" She did not have to raise her voice, but by the sound of the hard, biting edge that her words took on, she might as well have. One of her hands calmly reached up, long fingers tipped by darkly painted nails that gave the illusion of claws, and pushed down her cowl. At the sight of her face, several of the dwarves began to choke on their beverages, while others (most notably the two younger dwarves) simply stared at her with their mouths agape. Thorin, to his credit, managed to hide most of his reaction, although he failed to keep his eyes from widening in surprise.
However Bilbo nearly fell out of his seat in surprise. Tattoos! Piercings! And –and –why were her ears so pointy? When the hobbit had first heard her voice, soft and controlled and charming, he had expected an elven woman, or at least a very sophisticated human woman. But this! He had never seen anything like her before! Skin tanned to gold, swirling black lines of ink, extremely pointed ears lined with piercings. Her dark chocolate hair was pulled back and plaited into intricate braids, with feathers and beads woven into them quite like the dwarves did. And when the woman flashed them a small smirk, her dark eyes glinted gold and suddenly Bilbo was very aware that she was not quite… human.
The woman bowed swiftly, though the bow was foreign to them. She crossed the right arm across her chest and the left one swept to the side with a flourish, crossing her right leg behind the left in a stance that reminded Bilbo of a dancing position.
"Wha.." Someone began to ask but she interrupted whoever had spoken.
"You may call me Leo." Now she grinned and Bilbo swore he saw the flash of a fang. "And I will be traveling to Erebor, whether you agree to have me or not."
Thank you for reading. Please review! I don't quite know how long this story will be, though I already know that it will be quite complicated. I am quite excited to face the challenge though ^_^
~Lilithia