{AN: First of all, a big 'hello!' to people. I'm more than grateful that you've actually taken the time to click the link and give this a try. Secondly, I'd like to warn people: as much as I may know the Lord of The Rings films backward, I have only seen The Hobbit once so far. I know, it's shameful. And so, some things may be inaccurate. Please bear with me on this? Thank-you. Also, I do not speak Elvish –as much as I would like to- and my translations come from online. If you have any corrections for me, I'd be glad to hear them.
This story will not necessarily continue without some feedback from this chapter. Just, if you could, let me know on what you think of my character? I'd be majorly grateful.
I think that's it. Thank-you, again. Reviews and such are welcome.
The Company of An Elf.
The Hobbit hole was lit with a dull orange glow. The few candles dotted around gave somewhat of a calm feeling to her as she wandered the halls and small rooms. Of course, due to her height, much of her time here had been spent bent over, almost double. The Elf had kept herself from the dining room, deciding to stay closer to the front door of the small home, should escape from the twelve Dwarves suddenly be needed. However, singing had begun. She could hear it through the walls; it drifted through the air like something terrible. Still, the upbeat tune had caused her to turn and make her way back to them. The tranquil feeling of the hole had all but gone upon seeing the group of smaller folk. There, Bilbo fumbled through the large group, nervously plucking plates from their grips and trying to catch the precious china as it flew through the air.
Ulren kept her distance, taking to standing silently by the fire, her arms folded over her chest as she assessed the situation with an almost condescending glance. Dwarves… They simply irritated her. Why Gandalf had brought her with him was beyond her. However, part of her was glad — this… adventure gave her time, time away from her home, and the troubles she had there. And for that, she supposed that she was grateful to the old Wizard, who was, at that moment, simply standing amongst the Dwarves as they moved quickly, a slightly amused twinkle in his eye. At that, Ulren could do little else but chuckle to herself. The old fool was enjoying himself just as much as the other beings surrounding him.
The group suddenly stopped after a short while, the sound of the door being knocked on three times halting their movements. Ulren stood straighter, or as straight as she could in her situation, and turned toward the direction the sound had come. Gandalf had also sobered.
"He is here."
Ulren found herself sighing, "…'ai."
Stepping past her, Gandalf lay a hand on her shoulder, taking a small moment to send her a glance. It seemed to her to be both of support and warning. The smallest of smiles graced her features for a mere second. She knew better than to cause too much trouble with the being at the door.
{::}::{::}::{::}
"So, this is our Burglar?" Thorin took his time to pace, around Bilbo, who seemed to be becoming all the more uncomfortable. "He looks more of a grocer."
There was a quiet chorus of murmured agreement from the other Dwarves surrounding the Hobbit in the front hall. Ulren had not moved from her position by the fire, and she simply watched the exchange from, what she deemed a safe distance, if not for Thorin than for herself. Though, she did find him quite despicable, petty even. For all of his age and his wisdom, Thorin had never forgiven, and she doubted that he ever would. The day Thranduil had betrayed' him, had clearly hardened his heart. And he knew of Ulren, knew who she was. The ward of a betrayer. That was all he would ever see her as. Nevertheless, she would go with them, on this quest. Simply because she could. Perhaps it would offer some joy when irritating him? The thought caused a smile to curve her lips.
"Do you fight?" The gruff voice of the Dwarf-King brought her back from her thoughts.
"F-…fight? I tend to be rather good at conkers, if you must know." Bilbo hooked his thumbs on his braces for a moment, proud, almost. Ulren simply closed her eyes, close to exasperation. "But, I don't see how that has anything to do with anything."
"As I thought." Thorin answered, through an irritated sigh.
It was then that he spotted her, the slim, tall figure stood by the fire, or rather, hunched, her blonde hair illuminated by the flames. Thorin stepped forward, assessing her with each movement. As suspected, she countered his gaze with little hesitation. Thorin did not stand close, but was now within the room.
"Elf."
"Hîr vuin." My Lord.
Ulren quirked a small smile, enjoying the moment. For, he knew nought of what she had just spoken, and she could tell that she had already succeeded in irritating him.
"I see you've aged." She commented.
"I see you haven't."
Ulren peered down at him, leaning a little closer, studying his face.
"Could they be worry lines, Thorin? Truly, My Lord, perhaps you should take greater care of yourself?"
It was then, that Gandalf stepped forward, a spark in his eye, simply watching them for only a few seconds.
"Dinner, Thorin?"
The Dwarf nodded in response, taking to following the Wizard into the Dining Room. Gandalf mumbled as he went.
"If there is much else edible in the pantry."
{AN: Short little starter, but I hope it was alright. Cheers!