A/N: This is my first Hobbit story, in fact, it is my first bit of creative writing that I have attempted in many years, but seeing as I have found myself swept up in many a good Hobbit fanfic as of late, I thought I'd give it a try.
Enjoy the read, you have my word, this will not be a short story, there are many chapters already playing out in my mind.
Chapter One.
Welcome to the village of Theleor.
The air was cold and biting at their skin, despite wearing layers of armour and thick fur coats. The clouds were dark and the scent of rain was lingering in the wind, the dwarves knew they had no choice but to seek out temporary shelter much sooner than they originally anticipated. Their packs were becoming light too, they needed to collect supplies soon.
"There is a town not far from here, we should make it there if we choose to move in haste, there ought to be shelter or rooms for hire until the storm clears" Gandalf pointed his staff west, over a small rolling hill and suddenly the scent of smoke could be detected. The dwarves looked amongst themselves, looking to their leader for final instructions.
Thorin nodded, "I had hoped we'd stay out of man villages but I agree with Gandalf, we have no choice, to make battle with this storm would be unwise."
"We need food too!" Bombur said gruffly.
"Some more pipe-weed too?" Fili winked with a mischevious grin, nudging his brother with his elbow.
"Come along lads, pick up your feet and move quickly," Balin chimed in. Although he was not as young as the rest of the members of the company he was the most sturdiest, unlikely to give in or give up when faced with any obstacle or challenge, unless you count Smaug as an obstacle, in any case he was more of a calamity of pure destruction rather than your average obstacle.
The dwarves picked up their pace and followed Gandalf's lead, the wizard's strides were long and the dwarves had to work hard to keep up with him, poor Bilbo struggled more so, his small Hobbit legs moving as nimbly as possibly.
"I believe we are approaching the town of Theleor, it is small village for passers- by, not unlike the village of Bree near Hobbiton, our presence will not be greatly noticed," Gandalf puffed, his voice was deep and gruff, "I also believe we may have even an ally or two to resort to for help".
Thorin cocked an eyebrow, "as long as we are not once again resorting to the aid of Elves".
"No" replied Gandalf, "not entirely".
Thorin gripped his backpack tightly, his hatred of Elves was unrelenting and though he usually trusted the guidance of this wizard, he knew that there were some secrets that were being kept from him.
The company of Oakenshield made their way over the hill, through thick grassy meadows, and to the front gates of Theleor. The town was surrounded by large wooden fencing, a barrier to keep out foes and unsavoury characters. Gandalf knocked and tipped his tall pointy hat to the old bearded man who answered the door. The old guard seemed wary of such an odd gathering but Gandalf placed a few coins into the guard's palm and slowly the gates were opened to allow the dwarves and the Hobbit in.
Theleor was indeed a small village, different shop fronts advertising different trades from vegetables and fruits and tasty dried meats to a blacksmith and what appeared to be a small inn. The dwarves looked around nervously, though Bilbo seemed quite optimistic of spending a night in a comfortable dry bed instead of his bedroll beside a miserable dim fire out in the open, vulnerable to trolls and goblins. There were all sorts of people bustling about on the streets, probably preparing for the storm as the day had grown much darker and the wind was becoming colder and stronger. They all kept a look out for any strange sightings or suspicious characters but Gandalf seemed to know exactly where he was going, his walk was confident as his eyes scanned the dark allies and buildings.
The first inn they approached looked large and warm, though loud as many a local were enjoying pints of beers and warm toasted bread, just the smell made the whole company groan in hunger, the inn-keeper advised there was not enough room for such company, due to their number or perhaps it was their size, whichever the case, the dwarves and the Hobbit knew they were not so welcome. They made a few more turns down the small streets until they came across a small cottage with a small wooden sign that read "Little Inn!"
Gandalf smiled, "yes, this is the place!"
It was a little detached from the main buildings of the town, but there was a warm glow visible from the windows and smoke floating up and out of the chimney so it looked promising. They made their way over and Gandalf knocked on the door. A young maid answered and opened the door, she was quite short, comparable to the size of a dwarf but her hair was tightly wrapped up, covering even the tips of her ears. Her eyes were emerald green, her skin pale and her cheekbones high.
"You are looking for a place to stay?" She looked nervously over the dwarves and shifted her body uneasily, as though just the site of such a strange gathering made her uncomfortable.
"Yes my girl, just for myself and my dwarf friends here… and one Hobbit too! We won't take up too much room, we only need a night or two to seek shelter from this ghastly weather and rest and recover from our journey so far" Gandalf smiled and gave the girl a wink, emitting a small amount of charm often got him his own way, "Is the lady of the house, Lithrael here?" The girl look shocked, her eyes stared squarely into Gandalf's and she stepped aside to allow her guests in.
"How is it you know my mother's name? That name was not widely known, she went by the name 'Lilit' here".
"I met her many years ago on one of my many travels, she was always quite kind to me" Gandalf replied.
"Then it will sadden you to know that she died some time ago, when I was a child. They were horrible circumstances", the girl picked up a small lantern and showed her guest to the spare bed rooms, "Dwarves have often visited here in the past, there are plenty of appropriately sized beds for all of you. I have food stored if you are hungry and for a small additional fee I would be glad to make you a meal. You all look quite worn out".
"A meal would be appreciated..." Thorin stepped forward, "are you the innkeeper, girl?" She laughed in response.
"I may look young to you master dwarf but I have been managing this cottage for many years. I hardly think it necessary to tell you my age but let's just say I have many years of wisdom behind me. My name is Sonea, in case you were curious." She showed them to the kitchen, there were two large tables. She set out some large drinking cups and served several jugs of ale. The dwarves, the Hobbit and even Gandalf seemed pleased with her friendliness. Soon she served up plates of cured salted meats, cooked eggs, fresh bread and butter and some cooked potatoes. It had been a long time since she had had such company in her inn, Sonea was grateful for the business this group would provide financially.
The dwarves were becoming cheerful, a dry room to sleep in, plenty of ale and fresh food had lifted their spirits. Gandalf however looked deep in thought, he was smoking his pipe and staring, unblinking, at the lantern on the table, a reflection of the flickering flame visible in his eyes. Clouds were filling his thoughts, like someone was trying to reach across many lands to communicate with him. Only someone with great power could perform such magic, an elder being of Middle Earth.
Gandalf projected his thoughts out to the elder who was searching for him, greeting using his mind alone, "My lady Galadriel… you are calling for me?"
A blurred projection of the Elven Lady appeared in his mind, "Gandalf, I do hope I have found you well. I have a task that requires both your wisdom, and your courage." She smiled sweetly, her grey eyes were soft and this calmed the old wizard a little.
The wizard took another puff on his pipe, slowly blowing out small smoke rings, much to the amusement of his companions and Sonea. He could sense where this conversation was going, lady Galadriel had the gift of foresight and suspected that darker powers were indeed being summoned in middle earth and that an old enemy may be responsible, she of course, required proof.
"I know what it is you want me to do. I will leave at first light" he spoke with his mind, the image of the lady nodded her head in acceptance and then the clouds in his mind faded away. Gandalf leaned back in his chair, taking more notice of his surroundings and noticed in the corner of the kitchen, mounted on the wall, was a bow and bag of arrows and several swords, they appeared to almost be Elvish in design from the blade to the hilt. His eyes met Sonea's, "my dear, are those weapons belonging to perhaps your father… or husband?"
"I have never married…" Sonea showed no sign of sadness or regret, "and they belong to me, not my father. I have not seen my father in many years, which for me, is a good thing."
"You're a hunter then? A warrior?" Kili piped up, smiling playfully before stuffing more bread into his mouth and washing it down with a gulp of his ale.
"Aye, a hunter more than a warrior but I can handle a blade as well as any of you, I'm sure" there was the hint of a challenge in the tone of her voice but her lips curled up slightly in a smile but some of the dwarves coughed in disagreement.
"Perhaps tomorrow, you could demonstrate these skills that you boast?" Dwalin said gruffly. Sonea shrugged, she didn't doubt herself but she felt she had nothing to prove.
"Tell me, if you can my dear, why it is a good thing to not have your father in your life? I sense a sad tale" Gandalf's voice lowered but he was quite curious about this girl and Thorin leaned in eagerly awaiting her response, he too found her somewhat fascinating.
Sonea sighed, she was a loner in this village and it was how she preferred to remain but something inside her compelled her to be honest. She took a sip from her ale and thought of where it was best to start. Her company were mostly dwarves and she didn't want to offend them but the old man had asked for her story and there was nothing but sincerity that she detected in his question, as though he may actually care about her.
"It began with my mother who was banished from her home when she was quite young, apparently for loving someone she was not betrothed to, I'm not too familiar with the details there but I will tell you what I know," Sonea paused, she had everyone's attention, even the Hobbit looked at her, captivated by her words, "she travelled far, not really belonging anywhere, she was not one to belong to mankind, as she was indeed, and Elf." Gandalf had suspected as much and Sonea slowly unwrapped the scarf from her head, revealing long cascading thick dark red hair and tall pointed ears that indeed resembled as elf-like.
"She found one town, not unlike this one where she found work in an inn, work to clean and make beds and prepare food. One day, a small company of dwarves, not as many as you, sought for a night's rest. The leader was of some royal blood, belonging to a kingdom that was on the very edge of Middle Earth, his name was Frrel and that night he began a relationship with my mother, she had said that he loved her. She decided to leave her work and follow him on his journey but she didn't realise that he had an unpredictably violent streak in his personality, and as soon she felt she was with child, she escaped," Sonea tried not to cry, the pain still felt very real in her beating chest and she looked down, not daring to look into the pity-filled eyes of those around her. The old man placed a large hand on her back and tapped her gently and apologetically.
"She raised me, taught me to hunt with a bow and arrow, over time I became even a better hunter than her but I desired greatly to learn to master a blade, she gave me those" Sonea nodded towards the wall where her swords hung, "she trained me in some basic moves but I began to teach myself, it felt like instinct. Several years ago my father had found us and then I woke up one morning to find my mother had gone missing, Frrel told me she was dead and that I would now have to do as he said, I remember there was a dark wildness about his eyes, it struck fear in me. He was arranging my betrothal to another prince from a land in the mountains far away, closer to the Iron Hills, a trade really, for a chest of gold and gems he wanted my freedom to be sold against my will" Sonea stood up and walked over to her swords, they were long in length compared to her small stature (which was not unlike the other dwarves around her), she took them into her hands and lunged forward, slicing through the air, the blades crossing over the front of her body, so fast it was a mere blur, "I told him, for my mother's demise and my own freedom he was to leave and not return, or I would not hesitate to avenge my mother's suffering, my mother's death. So here I am, half Elf, Half Dwarf and not really belonging to anyone or anywhere."
Bilbo was smoking his pipe, Gandalf was also blowing smoke rings. Fili and Kili were sitting in shock, while Dwalin and Balin looked upon her with sorrow and also a tough of admiration. She was tough, a dwarvish trait but her build was slight with angular features like an Elf. Thorin said nothing, just staring at her with his icy blue eyes, seemingly lost in thought.
"That is indeed some story" Bombur leaned forward, his merry round face beamed at her, "such a tale can only be retold by someone strong, and you lass, are obviously just that."
"I am saddened to learn that it was dwarves that brought about such unhappiness in your life" Balin muttered, there was buttered bread crumbs caught in his long white beard to which he was oblivious, "It is a fact lass, that in our culture, dwarf men respect their women, treating them with compassion but of course, there are bad people amongst all cultures in Middle Earth." Sonea nodded, she felt pleased that at least her father's behaviour was uncommon but she was starting to feel uneasy by Thorin's unbroken glare. He looked away, evading eye contact with her.
The wind was beginning to howl outside, rain was beating down on the roof and the windows rattled slightly, but the cottage retained is warmth. Sonea began to gather messy plates but the company continued to drink, some sombre at hearing her life story while others were merry and optimistic about their quest. The wizard kicked Thorin's foot underneath the table and gave him an obvious wink, "perhaps our fearless leader would care to help the inn-keeper, as she has been hospitable enough to tolerate everyone's behaviour this evening".
"I think I can manage, by whilst I clean up maybe you could all introduce yourselves. I have a pretty good memory of those whom I meet", Sonea brushed away some of her hair out of her face as she picked up Thorin's plate. Gandalf introduced everyone, one by one they all nodded in respect until he pointed to Thorin.
"And this is… Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror…" his voice was shaky. Sonea stopped and her eyes widened in surprise. She felt her chest tightening and her heart began to pound hard in her chest. She stepped back from the table, all of their faces were watching her, and Thorin eyed her suspiciously and wondered what game it was that the wizard was playing. The half-blood coughed a little, as if to clear her throat and put the pile of plates back onto the table and hurried out of the room.
"What's all that about?" Bofur wondered.
"Come on laddies, she's part dwarf and her father had royal blood, of course she's familiar with Thorin's name!" Balin tried to reason, but even he was confused by her behaviour.
"What are you up to, Gandalf?" Thorin stood up and leaned across the table, his knuckles clenched tight, a gentle form of intimidation but quite pointless against a character like a wizard.
"She has lied about her name Thorin. She is clearly aware of your title and I do believe you would be aware of hers if she were more truthful. Of course it makes sense, princess Annora was betrothed to you" he smiled knowingly.
"Annora? Betrothed?" The prince stammered.
"She is part Elf, fifty years is nothing for their kind…" Balin reminded him.
"It was only a contract, between your father and hers. She was right, her freedom was being traded for gold but her father's kingdom was dwindling and needed something to bargain with and a half elf half dwarf princess would've fetched a good price" Dwalin commented, taking another sip of ale. Fili and Kili looked at each other excitedly, Gloin and Oin winked at each other whilst Nori, Ori and Dori were trying to hold back laughter.
Thorin shook his head, thinking that this could not be right, it was too much of a coincidence but then he looked up at the wizard who was leaning back lazily in his chair, "you knew?"
"I merely suspected…" Gandalf protested, waving his hands dismissively.
"Aye, you suspected as much and yet failed to mention anything to me?" Thorin was more than annoyed, at the wizard and at the memory of his father. It is true that he was extremely loyal to his kin and to his bloodline, but that his father had organised a bride for him all of those years ago, before Erebor was invaded by Smaug, was insulting. "Am I not the leader for this quest? Is this not the company of Oakenshield?" His arms stretched wide, gesturing towards the others. He had heard of the name Annora, the rumours of the half-blood princess but he was never made aware of a contract between him and her, something Thrain and Thror had organised behind his back, yes they wanted of course the bloodline of Durin to continue but at the expense of him choosing his own woman?
Thorin left the group and walked outside, his fur coat barely protecting him from the torrential rain but there was a small amount of shelter offered by the roof. He paced up and down the length of the cottage slowly, digging through one of his pockets for another pipe and some more pipe-weed, hoping that would settle his nerves. He stopped at a window, there was a curtain so he could not see inside but he did make out the shadow of Annora. He didn't feel it was his right to spy on her but he was curious if she was feeling the same as he, resentful and angry. With his back pressed up firmly against the cottage's stone wall, he moved as close as he could to the window, he had found his pipe but put it back into his pocket.
Annora was sitting on her bed, her head resting in both her hands and she was sobbing quietly, or so Thorin thought he could hear.
"It must be some sort of fate," she muttered, "but it is a fate I thought had been long forgotten." In her hands was a letter, her fingers gently caressing the parchment.
A/N: Well, there it is. I really enjoyed writing and I hope that you enjoy reading it. I have some twists and turns planned, but don't worry, this is rated M for a reason.