Edge of the Wild (River Bruinen)
The young woman was just as skilled as she was beautiful. Her worn down grey cloak making her slight movements transparent and fluid and contrasted amongst the vibrant green surroundings. The wind lifting the fabric from her face and making her untucked hair swirl about. Both sleeves were held above her elbows with leather binding to keep them out of the way of her slim and strong fingers. The motion of body claimed her abilities without seeing her stance behind the fabric. Her head was tilted the slightest, giving her the perfect line of vision behind the bow. Aiming, she let the string loose and the arrow cut through the air with a perfected silence before it struck the target. It was a privilege to watch her in a relaxed atmosphere, and it was a situation that was rare nowadays. She had a darkness to her that could be seen just beyond her eyes. Though she hid it well.
Though, just like any other person, she had a history that has transformed her into who she is. Events that she will not share with any soul. Some she would take to her grave.
Axellriandra.
Whether she believed Gandalf or not, it was destined for the girl to be part of the Company. Without her the journey would fail and it was bound in her fate just as it was in the others.
Gandalf knew by the way she held herself that her heart still yearned for adventure, even after her spirit had been beaten in previous journeys. If he were to get her to join the company, it will be on her own terms despite his efforts. Old and weathered hands stuffed themselves into the pockets of the robe's irritating fabric, feeling for the flimsy paper that caught on his callouses. Not many could interpret the violently inscribed Orc language, few with that skill remained and those who lived had no interest in being subjected to a past life. Yet her meticulous sight and knowledge would be the only hope without turning to someone who will undoubtedly ask questions.
"Axellriandra? May I have a word?" Gandalf's gentle tune was laced with curiosity.
She looked skeptical for she has only met the wizard under the worst of circumstances. A brief look of déjà-vu spread across her features, only to be replaced with a look of pure and utter dwarf attitude. Eyebrows furrowing together, and a mischievous glint intertwining with a brilliant blue. Nose half scrunched as she worked her way through the images and memories that she associated with the fellow's name.
"Gandalf the Grey." A mocking curtsy was delivered in his general direction before the slightest hint of an eye-roll was hidden before her stone grey hood.
She spoke clearly for being a dwarf as there was a lack of mumbling, murmuring, and stumbling in her words. "Let me guess, you need my help."
"Well, yes." Gandalf sighed through his nose while pulling out the ragged parchment that had been tenderly caressed between his fingers. "I cannot read it, and believe it to be Black Speech. What do you think?"
The skilled fingers of the archer reached forward, delicately unfolding the neglected material. She murmured to herself, mind working effortlessly to translate the illegible scribbles. Her fingers traced each letter as she pieced together what each word must have meant. Blue eyes danced from me to the page through the curtain of brown locks that hid her expression from my own intrigued eyes. The writing was a stark black against the parchment and there was a trail of blood staining one edge.
"The promise of payment for the head of Thorin Oakenshield." She slowly read the page to the wizard, shaking her hair out of the way in order to get a better indication of what his expression must have said to her; her eyes shone knowingly. "You know the man?"
The paper of disturbing information was gently rolled back into place, and extended towards the shaken elder. And though she was quick, she was still innocent to the harm the small object could inflict.
"As a matter of fact, I do." His rough voice was heavy with concern, a noise in which the woman mentally noted. "I believe that I have a meeting with said dwarf."
Gandalf thought deeply for a moment longer, curious as to how he would inform her that she had been chosen to be part of an adventure. Her wary eyes were analyzing every shaken move that the man made, and a smirk rolled across her young face as if she seemingly knew all to well what he was thinking.
"When, and where?" She inquired as she turned and shot an arrow into a distant target.
"Hobbiton, The Shire. This Saturday. You should get there after dark, that way the hobbits' aren't feeling as if their privacy has been invaded." The wizard spoke his vacant thoughts.
"Except your poor victim," The young girl muttered to herself.
Turning on her heels, she demanded his attention with her unmoving gaze. "I'll be there."
With that, she vanished into the surrounding forest. Her grey cloak billowing like smoke around her, and signalling her farewell as she disappeared into the thick shadows of the forest floor. If she so chose, it would be the last anyone would see of her until the day of the meeting. If the burglar failed to come through, she would be the best option as a replacement.