First chapter to my hobbit fanfic. I wrote this cause I'm a fan and love to have smutty fantasies about dwarves. If you don't like my story then go suck a dick and if you do then do your thing, like, comment or whatever you do.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit series or it's character. I do however own my characters and any artwork I do of my series.
Chapter One: From an Icy Land
Snow fell heavily upon the northern bay of Forochel, harsh winds sweeping through from the ocean beyond and slicing through feeble things such as cloth. Few lived along the barren lands in the north with miles upon miles of white blanketing the ground underneath ones feet. There lay no mountains for mining nor fertile earth for crops, it was a dead man's land as far as the rest of the world cold tell.
There were a few though who lived amongst the harsh whether, a settlement of Men who inhabited the icy wastelands during the Second Age. Many perished from frostbite, fever, and starvation in the beginning for the land would not produce crops. There were still those who remained though, having learned to survive and even prosper for their fair wolf, bear and reindeer pelts.
A village had grown, prospering into a kingdom that though small, held strong against any turmoil; this is where our young warrior was raised, unknown to the journey she shall embark on in her youth.
Lian swiftly rode across the icy plains, the thundering sound of hooves against compacted snow lost in the howl of the wind. She squinted against the snow and wind, the frost having already numbed her eye lids as her eyes watered with irritation. The blurred shadow of Forochel grew closer, a beacon lining the horizon ahead. With haste Lian approached the stone walls until she finally entered the looming gates; she weaved through the market easily and soon enough arrived in the castle courtyard to dismount her horse.
She made her way up the stairs and to The Great Hall, not wasting time with such things as announcing an audience with the King. She reached the doors to the Throne Room and entered loudly; startling the group of men within with her brutish manner.
"Fever has spread fast through the eastern bay, Father." Her voice was muffled under the thick leather protecting her face as her green eyes peeked out from under her hood. "Four have already passed and over half of the village is bed ridden. If we do not find a cure soon then our kingdom will fall to this Plague." Worry and fatigue hold her rigid, despite the thick pelt and leather weighing her down.
"That's the fifth village." Stevvin, the King's adviser, grumbled, worry etched into his usually stern features.
"I do not know what to do; we've sent our best healers away and yet none come back with a cure. Is this the fate of our kingdom?" The King rasped, thin lips pursed tight with stress. Already had the man grown to look twice his age as fair silver hairs mingled with the rich brown.
"Don't worry, Father. I have heard rumors of the great Elvish healers residing in Rivendell. Let me ride with my men to ask for aid." Lian offered eagerly; she was truly eager at the idea of venturing past their borders.
"I'm sure you would; this isn't a vacation though, Lian." Stevvin growled out, curling his lip up into a grimace.
"I'll be back before ya even know I'm gone." She pleaded.
"That shan't be necessary."
All heads turned, startled by the stranger now walking through The Throne Room, dressed in all grey while clutching a wooden staff. His tall figure was slightly hunched with his old age but he had the more enticing blue eyes that sparkled like diamonds.
"Gandalf!" The King breathed, almost like a sigh of relief as a smile suddenly broke through his previous frustration.
"It has been too long, dear friend." Gandalf chuckled, a twinkle shining in his aged eyes as he came to stop beside Lian; who stood cautiously beside the stranger as she looked him over.
"Father?" She questioned.
Gandalf turned towards her with a soft smile, seemingly amused by her manner of caution towards him. "Dear Lian, you've grown into quite a sight. Last I recalled you were harassing every village maiden in sight. Now I hear you harass your troops instead." He chuckled, his face holding nothing but fondness towards the young woman.
A sense of familiarity settled in her mind, his deep laughter echoed with a distant memory, teasing the edges of her minds eye.
"Lian, be at peace. Gandalf is a dear friend of mine of many years. Often would he visit when you were but a small lass. I'm quite surprised you don't remember since you were so fond of him." Father mused.
Realization suddenly lit up her face and she let out a loud "OH!" with a sharp slap to her thigh in her moment of clarity.
"I remember ya now!" A smile graced her lips as she pulled the leather cover from her face as well as the fur lined hood; allowing her brown hair to fall down her shoulders.
"Yes, you'd often hide within my beard in times of mischief." The old wizard chortled, cheeks rosy with merriment. Long had it been since he'd seen the Princess and what a fine lass she had become, not to mention warrior as the King's many letters to him told.
"What brings you here after so long, Gandalf?" Father questioned, curiosity dimming his joy slightly.
"I've come to strike a deal." Gandalf explained after clearing his throat.
"Deal?" Puzzled, the King stroked his short beard.
"I know that your kingdom is under the attack of a Plague, Lvaire. One which has no simple cure for it has festered inside a vile creature for years. I believe you know of whom I speak of. He visited your eastern bay but 4 months ago." Realization dawned quickly on the man and with clenched fists he whispered.
"The Orc."
"Yes, I believe he was rampaging through your villages when your men finally dispatched of him. But his illness had already been exposed to your lands. I have found a cure upon my visit to Rivendell though." Reaching in, he revealed a small vial from his robes.
"Gandalf, I trust you deeply but how can I believe such a small amount can cure over half my kingdom?" Father stressed, deep lines of worry appearing once more.
"Do not fret, old friend. The vial is for me and once I drink from it I will perform a powerful spell to rid this land of sickness. I will perform it now if you wish but I ask for something in return..." Gandalf trailed, gauging the other man's reaction.
"Stevvin?" Father turned to his advisor for council, and the burly man hesitated before nodding. Lvaire sighed heavily before turning back to the expecting wizard, running a worn hand over his worn features.
"What is it you wish in return?"
Gandalf smiled softly, knowing it a bit unfair for what he was about to ask for in return, but it was for the best. "I ask for Lian's aid in a quest."
Shock rippled through The Great Hall in that moment and Lian quickly stood forward, quickly dismissing shock for suspicion. "And would ya care to explain why that be?" She questioned, not trusting the now grave expression he bore.
"I have great need for your trusty axe and silver tongue, Lian, daughter of Lvaire, son of Rviane." Gandalf gravely stated for he knew the adventure ahead was bound to be filled with untold peril.
"You bring me the option of my daughter or my kingdom?" Lvaire's voice cracked with suspense as he looked at his old friend; his eyes pleading for this to be a ruse.
"I wish that fate had been kinder to the both of us for I have no other choice. Lian is a necessary asset." Gandalf sighed.
"Can you guarantee that she will come back alive?" The wizard faltered slightly.
"I'm afraid not. I know not what the world has to offer on this journey so I cannot guarantee anything." The king closed his eyes upon hearing this, his face draw back into a grimace.
Such a proposal is almost a miracle, for months they had been scrambling to contain this mess as more and more die. Now here is a solution in the form of an old friend but the cost was his daughter, the one and only Princess of their small kingdom. Were she to die he would have no heirs and he'd lose his only child.
"…Lian will decide." He finally decided, looking pained as he re-opened his eyes to make eye contact with the wizard.
"I'll go"
Gandalf raised his eyebrow at the eagerness shown, Lian not even hesitating to agree though it should come as to no surprise; young people have a habit of jumping into things.
"If I fall, then my life would be far lesser than the lives of our people, Father. I will do what is needed." Her eyes shone with a fire, a fire not only for adventure but for change. The chance to venture beyond her home was a thrill, never had the young lass traveled past The Hills of Evendium and Ered Luin.
"Your life means far more to me than you'll ever know." Father whispered; his voice was on the verge of emotional collapse as he clenches his jaw. Slowly, she walked towards him; kneeling before him to take his worn, callused hands into her own.
"I said if, do not despair when I still live and breathe before ya." A lopsided grin can't help but make its way to her lips as she looked up into her father's eyes, which watered as he pulled Lian into a bone crushing hug.
Slowly, she pulled away, patting his hand once before turning to Gandalf. "When do I depart?"
"Within a fortnight."
One month later: Hobbiton
The smell of grass and flowers tickle Lian's nose as she ventured into the small village of Hobbiton; the previous rain having left a thick layer of moisture in the air. The travel to the quaint land had been enjoyable as the landscape was greater than anything she'd ever seen; which was much. She had only ever dreamed of these places or read of them in books and quite frankly her imagination was a poor imitation of the real thing.
Gandalf had done as he said and healed our sick, the spell having been beyond great and thundering chants of power still echoing in her ears. Though she still knew not why he would be so desperate as to ask her father for her company on this journey; it didn't add up.
Lian was indeed a decent warrior, tracker and hunter as you had to be within their lands. Mostly it was the men who hunted and fought among our kingdom but women participated too. They were so poorly populated in men that they had no choice but to recruit women into their arms.
She was superb on the battlefield without a doubt, as if she was bred to fight, to protect as she was sworn to do. Could Gandalf possibly have recruited her for a war? No, he would have asked for aid of our entire arms, not just one.
Brow set in deep concentration, she passed hobbit hole after hobbit hole, homely places that could draw anyone in with the warmth and inviting smell of food. Just the smell alone made the lasses stomach grumble; how she longed for a hot meal in her belly despite the unusual heat she now had to grow accustom to. Forochel was constantly snowing year round, very few times in the summer did the sun peak out of the thick clouds but it was never enough to melt the snow more than but an inch or two.
Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, she saw it, causing Lian to steer her mare towards the glinting light. Tree frogs croaked in the distance and the chirping of crickets was insufferably loud as she squinted in the moonlight.
There, burned into a hobbit door was a mark and not just any mark; the mark she was looking for, she was almost positive.
She pulled a piece of parchment from her thick leather pouch, matching up the mark on the door with the one Gandalf had drawn for her upon his leave of Forochel the day after he released her lands from the plague. She had asked why he had to leave so early but he only said he was to meet with a friend.
Soft murmurs could be heard from the inside of the hobbit hole, pulling her from the mark as she saw candle light softly flood out of the windows like velvet and confirming that someone was indeed home. Quickly dismounting from her horse, she secured her reins to a sturdy fence post along the flourishing garden outside before entering the fenced in yard. With a sigh she knocked on the door or should she say slammed since she was hardly ever gentle with anything.
She hoped whatever lay behind this door had a hot meal, though the travel was memorizing, it did not treat her kindly for she was sore from the endless riding, having only stopped when her horse refused to go on without food and rest. Suddenly the murmurs grew silent, causing an uneasy feeling to form in her gut. Perhaps this was a trap? Gandalf could have been ambushed upon his arrival by bandits or worse; Orcs.
The logical side of her brain told her that if there were orcs they would be raiding the whole village, not hiding inside a house. Besides, Orcs never ventured this far into the West. But she paid no mind to sense, slowly shifting into a crouch as she took her axe from its mount on her back.
The door knob twisted and soon the door creaked open, instinct taking over immediately as she threw her axe through the doorway and into the unsuspecting enemy