Title: Lone Wolf not so lonely
Summary: Elinor was lucky, she was taken in by the people of Gondor the night she was found with no memory in the ruins of a burned village. Now she must use her talents to help the Ring Bearer, but nothing is ever truly what it seems.
Genre: Action/Adventure
Rating: M
Warning/s: Blood, gore, swearing, implied sexual stuff
Disclaimer/s: I own only Elinor and her background story, nothing else
Chapter One - Drifter
The breeze blew through the gaps in the trees, caressing all it came in contact with like how a mother caresses her distraught child, yet it was chilly, a mask of gentle comfort. It merely hardened her curious heart.
The bark on the trees was rough and cruel to unsuspecting hands, the grass would prickle at bare legs, butterflies retreated from the direction she was going, and all life in the forest was retreating from the darkening aura.
That dark aura was what drew her deeper in the forests 20 miles of Bree and all other contact from the race of men, and unlike most women she did not fear this powerful aura, more than anything, she was curious, what caused it and what would bring it so close to such a peaceful place?
She intended to find out.
She pulled the hood of her dark brown cloak over her head, effectively hiding her pretty, round shaped face and dark curly hair, all her tan skin and dark hair could no longer be seen, and the only thing that could identify her was her emerald green eyes that seemed to shine within her hood.
She would be pretty if her hair was not a tangled mess and pulled back into a simple ponytail and if she had washed again today she would be pretty, alas, she could not afford to stop in another Inn if she wished to indulge her curiosity.
Her worn down, brown leather boots pressed down onto the dry leaves, enticing a light crackle at every foot step. Dawn was disappearing far too quickly for it to be considered natural, she was well aware of that – whatever was here was dangerous but she did not hesitate in her path, she continued.
My curiosity will be my downfall, one day. She thought to herself, a wry smile spread across her lips. Her slender, tanned and callused hands twitched as the rest of her body tensed at the sounds of those wails, wails so high and cruel and sadistic, it was terrifying yet exciting at the same time.
It was as she ran that she found them, the four, small young men – Hobbits, she corrected herself – and they were running, clearly frightened. The cause of her curiosity had caused her fear, and, on a whim, she followed as she kept to the trees.
The four ran towards the lake, and she understood why, she had spotted them herself, they were hooded in black capes and rode on bloodied black horses that seemed to be driven to the point they would soon collapse.
The smell was atrocious, and she had to use all her self control not to gag.
Three of the four had managed to jump onto the small raft, made of several worn wooden planks held together with thin rope, which began to make port, and the last one was struggling to make it to the raft before one of the Riders could take him down.
He would not make it.
She ran faster and out of the dark cover of the shadowed trees. "Nar(fire)!" She yelled, and a burst of silvery white fire left her right hand which she threw out to the dark Rider, and the ball of silvery flame hit the Rider on the side and knocked it off it's horse.
The fallen Rider screamed and writhed as the silvery white flame spread over it's body, unyielding even as it ran and rolled in attempt to extinguish it. It was the fire of white magic and it would not stop burning until the creator wished it to stop.
The wielder turned to the raft, which the last Hobbit just jumped onto, they watched her in fearful awe except for one, the one with dark hair and large, sky blue eyes. Those eyes pierced into her emerald ones and her body shivered with uneasiness; he held something dark, part of the magic inside her called to it.
"Meet us at the Prancing Pony!" The dark haired one yelled to her, his request must not have been planned, she figured, from the surprised faces of his comrades.
She paused and pulled back her hood so he could see her face, she called out to him; "Look for Drifter!" Then, after covering her face once again, she turned and fled.
The dark haired, small, young man stared out towards the spot the young woman had once been; her emerald eyes haunted his mind.
"How far is it from here to Bree?" The plumpest of the four, Samwise Gamgee, asked one of his other fair haired companions.
"Twenty miles from here," Pipin answered in return to Sam's question, and the rest of the journey fell silent.
She had followed them; he remembered spotting her emerald eyes in the dark as they had ran from the Riders. The Ring felt heavy and too warm on his chest.
Drifter had managed to sneak into Bree by mingling with a gaggle of young women, most likely farmer's wives, and she went to the rather cosy looking Inn, the 'Prancing Pony'. Inside it was smoky and Drfiter coughed a little before adjusting to the dim and smoky environment, her pack felt heavier as she glanced at all the men drinking merrily.
"How can I help you, young sir?" Drifter turned her attention to the man behind the counter, he had a friendly face, and she approached him. "How can I help ye?"
"A glass of your red wine would be lovely sir," the man's eyes widened.
"Begging your pardon Miss," she ducked her head in acknowledgement of his apology as he got her the red wine she ordered, and he even gave her the whole bottle as an apology at the price of a single glass of wine.
The emerald eyed woman decided to hold her tongue and accept the gift; there was no use looking a gift horse in the mouth. She sat at one of the tables in the back and, deciding to throw caution into the wind, she drew back her hood.
Her cheeks and forehead had a few smudges of dirt; her knotted hair was pulled back into a simple, loose, low tail. She poured the wine in her glass and took a sip, her eyes fluttered closed at the bitter and rich taste – the bitterness would help to keep her senses sharp in such a homey place.
"Wine is an acquired taste," she turned to the person who dared to interrupt her peace, and she scowled, she should have been more careful.
The man who interrupted her wore the clothes that she knew only belonged to one man – that and the sound of his voice and his... unique smell helped her identify him – Strider, a Ranger. They had learned of each other, he distrusted her because of her use of dark magic, and she disliked him because he smelt terrible.
Drifter's lips curled into an unpleasant frown, her golden hoop earrings caught his attention as she shifted her position. "Strider, what a... pleasant surprise."
"Drifter," he acknowledged her presence with a nod. "You seem to still be stealing from others I see," said young woman merely rolled her eyes; she was well known for her habit of stealing from noble women and her obsession with treasure.
Her friends had told her in the past that she would have made a fine pirate.
"That woman had enough money to buy an entire trunk of these, one missing set won't harm her," she turned her nose up at him and took another sip of her drink.
Strider merely shook his head and chose not to respond, and all conversation died between the two, which Drifter was fine with.
She blew at the single lock of her curly hair that fell into her eye and finished the last of her bottle of wine – Strider was not interested in causing any trouble (for her specifically) so she would follow common curtsey and do the same for him.
It wasn't much longer, an hour or so at the most, when the little ones arrived. She left her (rather comfortable) seat in favour of greeting the Hobbits, Frodo spotted her as she stood and called for her, she gave the Hobbits a wry smile as she walked over and greeted them.
"Hello there Little Ones," she greeted them and ushered them to a table with enough room for the five. "What brings you so far from the Shire?" She asked; her face and eyes filled with genuine curiosity.
"We're here to find Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey," the dark haired Hobbit, Frodo Baggins, Drifter learned, elaborated for her at her blank look.
"Ah, yes, Gandalf, I haven't seen him for years," Drifter recalled and her emerald eyes softened with affection for the elderly wizard. "The last time I saw him, I almost got away with stealing his hat." At this Merry, one of the three fair haired Hobbits, and one of the two with brown eyes, laughed at that little piece of information, and Pipin, his equally fair haired but blue eyed cousin grinned.
Frodo looked sullen at the news, and Drifter frowned slightly before she clasped his shoulder gently; "I don't know why he would ask you to come here, but he will come, I'm sure of it." She patted him on the head gently before standing. "Now, I must have a bath, I'm in need of proper cleaning."
And with that, she departed.
It hadn't been hard for her to sneak into one of the many bathrooms of the Inn, and she scrubbed her dirty body and hair as best as she could, she also decided to "borrow" some of the soap since she had ran out of her own, and then she retrieved a comb from her bag and brushed her hair.
Once that rather laborious task was done she washed her dirtied under garments, it was just as she finished the last one she heard the scuffle out in the hall and the shouts of the Hobbits.
She stuffed her undergarments, soap and comb into her pack before shouldering it and she ran out of the bathroom and slammed into Strider who had his sword pointed at the Hobbits, she pinned his arms down and straddled his chest as she glared down at the tall man who looked shocked at her actions.
He was used to the snarky, compulsive stealing, honest and calm and collected Drifter, not this harsh and angered Drifter and at that moment he missed the old Drifter he bickered with.
"If you have disrupted a single hair on their hands, I'll show you the true meaning of the word 'witch', do you understand, stinky?" Had the situation not been so serious, the Hobbits would have died from laughter.
"I mean the Hobbits no harm, Drifter," Strider reassured the enraged woman. "But they need to leave; the Dark Riders will come for them."
Drifter regarded him with stony eyes before she got off of him, not bothering to help him up like a well mannered woman should. "Fine, but I will go with you, I won't subject them to the torture of dealing with your smell alone."
Strider scowled and stood, his sharp and rugged features coated in a thin layer of grime and dirt, part of him wondered what Drifter's reaction would be if he met her after he had freshly bathed. Shaking his head of such thoughts, he helped the woman collect the Hobbits' packs and belongings before escorting them to the other nearest Inn.
Tonight would be a long night.
Drifter had gathered a small metal basin with water and soap to finish washing her clothes, it kept her busy and her mind away from Strider's body odour. She knew that she needed a plan, she had quickly become fond of the Hobbits and she had no intention of leaving, they were kind and seemed to like her company, so she decided to stay until they reached Rivendale where she would continue on her way.
Rivendale was too filled with Light magic and it set her off balance, and she knew she would not be welcomed with smiles and protection, she used a more... grey magic, a mixture of light and dark, all they would see is the dark magic and distrust her if not refuse her entrance.
No, Drifter would rather move on without a fuss, she knew the Hobbits would be safe in Rivendale, nothing could harm them there. Or so she told herself, squashing all doubt into the very back of her mind.
A group of shrill screams filled the air, awakening the Hobbits and startling Drifter, who stood and joined Strider at the window, she stared and watched as the Dark Riders left the Prancing Pony and the town.
They would be back, she could feel it in her bones, and wry smile spread across her lips – she had found something to give her a thrill and sense of adventure again.
"You should rest, we will be leaving at dawn," Strider informed the Hobbits who, after a while, settled to sleep.
Drifter however, was unable to sleep and left the room to get another small metal basin filled with water, which she managed to do but she purposefully left the water cold and she managed to "borrow" some more soap for Strider. She was going to get him to bathe whether he liked it or not.
When she returned she set the new basin on a nearby vanity stand and she left a small rag on the edge for him. "Use this to wash yourself," she murmured as she turned to him. "If we're to travel together, I will not have either of us stinking for as long as possible."
Strider raised a single eyebrow before getting up and deciding to oblige simply for a little peace, and, not that he would admit it, he really wanted to wash, he did stink.
Drifter respectfully turned away as she started to work on cleaning Strider's clothes to the best of her ability. They continued in silence other than the occasional dripping of water. Drifter had used a discreet warming spell to dry out some of Strider's freshly washed clothes – she would not have him cleaned only to get smelly again from unclean clothes!
Once she had finished Strider had already finished and she changed into something a little more socially acceptable; a simple brown dress with divided skirts, she had her usual brown leather boots on too and she draped her cloak around her body to help keep her warm, she hesitantly joined Strider at the windowsill and gazed out into the streets.
Drifter couldn't help but notice his high cheekbones and strong hands, her cheeks warmed and she focused on watching the rain fall outside. She rubbed her hands together to keep them warm, drawing Strider's attention as she did so, his grey-blue eyes softened at the sight of her shivering ever so slightly.
"You should also rest Drifter," Strider spoke, breaking the silence, he was of course ignored by the emerald eyed woman who rested her chin on her palm and the dark haired ranger had to force himself not to sigh. Stubborn woman.
"Drifter," she turned to look at him this time, her bright emerald eyes were guarded and Strider could not help but feel a little pity for the woman – she must not be used to such kindness, and Strider knew he was partly to blame. Well, since they were travelling together, they may as well attempt to get along. "Sleep, you look exhausted."
"I didn't know you cared Strider," she dead-panned, and it took Strider most of his will power not to make an equally childish response. "Besides, you look just as exhausted so you can't tell me to sleep, hypocrite."
Strider blinked in response, irritating the emerald eyed woman even more; "Not that I care, I'd rather just not be killed by those Riders simply because you're too tired to be properly aware." Her cheeks reddened and Strider merely indulged her by rolling his eyes, he knew she was lying.
"Sleep," this time, he wasn't pleading her, it was a command and, too tired and irritated to care, Drifter got up and climbed into the remaining bed.
"Fine then Stinky, just remember to wake me so I can also take watch." Strider did sigh this time, Drifter was so childish.
For a time, he watched Drifter's sleeping face, which wasn't scowling or smirking like when she was awake, she was completely relaxed and her hands were curled below her chin, her curled hair surrounded her face and tickled her skin, her lips remained slightly open and a little drool escaped her mouth – she looked so innocent and so un-Drifter like that the dark haired man found it hard to actually remember that it was Drifter, not a pretty, young, human female.
Strider was more than aware that Drifter wasn't human, at least, not fully, she was extremely pretty for a human female, but in comparison to the elves, she was plain, all of her plain except for her entrancing, emerald eyes, which he was sure was the only thing that hinted her Elvin decent. She was like him, not fully human and aged slowly, but not as slowly as the elves.
The Ranger turned his eyes from her, he had plenty of time to unveil her secrets, the walk to Rivendale was a long one and they would have to talk at some point. Oddly enough, the idea of having a more civilized conversation with her sounded very appealing, especially if incidents like tonight and her annoying pet-name would disappear.
Strider didn't wake Drifter, which had annoyed her to the point that she whacked him on the head with her shoe, much to the Hobbits' amusement and Strider's ire. They set off, many of them (minus Strider) wondering where she had gotten so many supplies.
Strider had set a harsh pace which the Hobbits found hard to cope with, and after a while Drifter suggested that they use the horse as a pack mule, which all but Strider approved of, and so Bill the pony was swamped with packs.
The Ranger didn't complain once he realized that they were indeed travelling faster, and they continued to travel until noon where they settled for a break and have some lunch. Drifter cooked a light meal of fried chicken and vegetables and potatoes, which was eaten quickly. Once the dishes and pots were cleaned they set off to continue for the day.
They stopped roughly an hour before sun down to set camp, Merry was given the task of collecting wood with Pipin, Frodo was to collect the needed ingredients from the packs at Sam and Drifter's command and Sam retrieved the pots, plates and pans to help Drifter cook their meal.
That night was quiet - the Hobbits fell asleep quickly from exhaustion – except for the usual argument on who was to keep watch from Strider and Drifter, which was soon becoming a routine.
It was on their third day when they camped for the night in an abandoned and ruined tower, Strider had opted to keep watched as Drifter started making some soup, making sure to use a veiling spell to hide the fire from watching eyes.
"This is it?" Merry asked rhetorically as the others dug into their soup, too hungry to be fussy.
"Yes," Drifter replied. "I cannot keep the spell for long without tiring, besides, I can sense more Dark beings nearby, it's better to be safe than sorry."
"Speaking of spells," Sam said, hesitating a moment as he decided on the best way to approach the subject. "What kind of magic do you use?"
Drifter remained silent for while as she sat and gathering her thoughts, the Hobbits waited impatiently for her answer. "I use a combination of both light and dark magic – I was cursed when I was younger, half of my light magic would turn to dark and with the arrival of the dark magic... my memories disappeared."
The Hobbits' eyes were wide in awe and sorrow.
"How did you find it out if you don't remember anything?" Frodo asked, he wasn't the slightest accusing, and it made Drifter relax – what worried her was that she didn't notice that she tensed up – and she answered the usually shy Hobbit's question.
"A few years ago, seven I believe, my magic began to get out of control, the healers and other magic users in my home had tried to calm my powers but nothing worked, luckily, Gandalf was in my home town at the time and sensed my magic – he balanced my powers so I could use both magics without too much damage done to my body."
Merry and Pipin listened in awe, almost dropping their soup from lack of concentration, Sam sipped his soup as he listened politely and Frodo felt the weight of the Ring more than ever as Drifter told her tale. "Wouldn't your powers become unbalanced again, Drifter?"
Drifter nodded her head at Frodo's question. "Aye, they would, but since you'll be meeting with Gandalf I'm sure he'll be able to balance my powers again, I'm in need of a 'check-up' anyway." She replied with a wry smile. "I'll wait in the forests for him."
"Won't you come into Rivendale with us?" Pipin exclaimed, as if he was both worried and insulted that Drifter wouldn't accompany them into the famous Elvin city.
"I would, but I do not like staying in one place too long, I will become restless and I have a tendency to steal and break things when I become restless." The Hobbits eyed each other warily after her little explanation.
Strider, who had been listening to the entire conversation from behind one of the crumbling walls, emerged and joined his companions in the centre of the ruins. "There's nothing, and that will remain so if there are no fires."
Both Pipin and Merry looked disheartened at that, and Drifter passed the Ranger a bowl of soup. "Eat Stinky, you'll need the strength for travel tomorrow," she stood and stretched her arms and cracked her back to loosen the sore and tense muscles. "Now, it's my turn to keep watch, I'll return in a few hours."
It took a while for Drifter to find a comfortable spot, but once she did she sat and stared out around the landscape and, once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she merely sat and observed.
She had three hours alone in the cold and darkness, she really hated camping.
Drifter awoke, she didn't realize that she had fell asleep, and she sat up slowly, massaging her neck gently, which had turned sore from the uncomfortable position. Her cheeks warmed once she realized where she had been sleeping, her head had been resting on Strider's thigh as she laid on her side.
"Why'd you let me sleep Stinky?" She had meant to apologize, but she accidently slipped that little exclamation out, she sighed and murmured; "I'm sorry."
Strider nodded his head slightly to show that he had accepted her apology, the curly haired young woman stared out into the night. "Strider," she muttered.
"Aye?"
"Do you... know what has become of Gandalf the Grey?" Strider stilled and Drifter waited patiently for a response, she took in the details of his weathered and slightly weary face, there were laughter lines around his eyes, and there faint lines around the front of his eyebrows, hinting years of scowling or intense concentration. Drifter was shocked with the sudden realisation of how little she knew about him.
"No, I do not," she lowered her emerald eyes and heaved a weary sigh, she had dreaded (dreaded, not feared) that response. She jumped as Strider's calloused hand clasped her shoulder. "Fear not, Drifter, he will have his reasons for why he hasn't arrived."
Drifter hesitated a moment before resting her hand on his. "Even Gandalf cannot avoid death," he squeezed her shoulder and what surprised her was that he didn't pull away from her touch.
"He will not fall, not today." She turned slowly to him, afraid of what she would find; his face was gentle and warm.
Her eyes lowered to his lips for a single, brief moment but she squeezed his hand gently; "Not today," she agreed with a small smile, her cheeks heated but she did not turn away from his unusually gentle face.
Those familiar, shrill shrieks startled the Ranger and Mage, both leapt to their feet and ran to the ruined stair case; they had to get the Hobbits to safety.
Chapter word count: 4,130
Story word count: 4,130
Can you guys please give me some constructive criticism? Any pointers?
Oh, the words I translated are Elvin, I found a website to translate Tolkien's Elvish into English.
Here's the link; /elvish/eng_to_
Have a nice day peeps!