Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings. Kelda, Sitheiyra and the Sky Folk are all that can be attributed to me.

This is to be my first fanfiction of The Hobbit. Tell me what you think! The Khuzdul dwarf language is as accurate as I can make it, but if you know I've got something wrong please let me know!

Bree was a shithole.

Of course, after spending more than half of her life traveling between Lorien, Edoras and Minas Tirith, perhaps she was a bit biased towards cities of great splendor. The walled town was dark and dank, even without the addition of the persistent rain that had settled overhead. It wasn't helping her mood in the slightest. It was soaking through her sky blue cloak, the cold moisture clinging to her wings uncomfortably and causing the little woman to have to shake the dampness off of them constantly. Wet wings were annoying at most, as water mostly rolled off the feathers without issue, but persistent dampness could possibly interfere with the important oils needed for flight…though she supposed she was getting ahead of herself. They were still only yet strong enough to allow her to glide a short distance and no more; though some said even that was a miracle in her case.

The fact that people were watching her as she walked past them wasn't helpful, either, and suddenly she wished that she'd brought a bigger cloak, one that would more easily hide the forms of her wings. Without those, the locals would probably have just thought her a dwarf. She wouldn't have minded that; most people wouldn't give a dwarf a second look but a skyling? Outside those folk who dwelled in the East many would have never even heard of her people before, let alone seen one, and the inhabitants of Bree didn't seem to be shy with their blatant staring. She found herself frowning, pulling her cloak more tightly around her and speeding up her stride. She was feeling very vulnerable as she traveled along the cobblestone street. The sooner she arrived at this meeting, the sooner she could return to the safety of the forests and hills outside the high stone walls.

Had she not promised to meet her companion at the inn there, the skyling woman probably would have just avoided the town altogether; she preferred the open wilderness, where she could see trouble coming more readily. She'd grown up traversing the wilds with the rest of the Sky Folk, hunting the lush woods, dashing across the rolling plains and soaring the wide open skies. The way these others lived, boxed in behind stone and wood, was frankly unsettling to her. Not being able to bring her Muzmulomil partner into the town wasn't a pleasant idea to her, either, but she understood the need. Most people east of the Misty Mountains had probably never seen a gryphon before and would be terrified, but still her presence would have been of great comfort. Alas, though, that wasn't an option.

The skyling's brisk walk carried her more quickly through the town, and it wasn't long before she found herself standing before the door of the Prancing Pony inn. She pushed the door open and as she stepped inside she allowed herself a moment to enjoy the relief of being warm and out of the rain. None of the tavern patrons paid her any mind as she pushed through the crowd, her small size making movement a bit difficult; it was hard to force a path when she only stood a little under chest-height with the average human, who made up most of the patrons, and they were hardy attempting to be accommodating, either. She could see a few hobbits as well, but for the most part Bree was a human town. She preferred dwarves to humans, personally. Humans seemed as if they were always up to something. Sneaking around, offering their hand in friendship, just so they could get close enough to stab at the back. At least if a dwarf wanted to kill someone, they were honest about it. Blunt, perhaps, and sometimes brutal, but honest. Though, truly, she found she preferred dwarves to most people.

It took a moment before the skyling found a spot clear enough for her to search the tavern for her companion. She'd have thought that he'd be easy to spot, but it was true that a wizard could go unnoticed, if he really wished to. He had no reason to hide there, though, and as she scanned the crowd for a second time she caught sight of the tall, willowy man sitting at a table dressed all in gray. He was silver of hair, looked old and wizened, but the skyling woman knew well that his plain features were deceptive. A spell-caster of any kind was a force to be reckoned with. She knew that far better than most.

The wizard was hardly surprised when she took the seat opposite of him; he was preoccupied with the plate of bread and stew in front of him. He only turned his warm gaze to her after she ordered the same from the barmaid and pushed the hood of her cloak back off of her head.

An ignorant person could have mistaken her for a dwarf before then, being that she was of the same general size and stature, but once her hood was pushed back it was quite clear that she was definitely not a dwarf. Despite the Sky Folk being distantly related to the mountain dwelling children of the stone,their size was where the similarities ended. Although she was quite curvy, she was far slighter than a dwarf woman and lacked any kind of facial hair.

The skyling was pleasant to look at by the standards of most. Her freckled skin was a rich bronze, the darker coloring a vast contrast to the pale eyes shared by all of her people;her own were a lovely shade of gray, so light they were nearly silver, and resembled that of an eagle's. As like all the Sky Folk, she had a similar range of vision to such a bird of prey. Her face was round with a stubborn chin and naturally dark red lips that were upturned at the corners, giving the impression that she was always smiling, though that was not far from the truth. A spattering of dark freckles across the bridge of the nose and following the forms of her cheekbones made her look innocent, almost child-like. People often underestimated her. They always regretted it.

To the unknowing it looked as if she wore a large headdress of copper colored feathers on her head, though that was indeed the Skyling equivalent of hair. They were more brilliantly colored than any sunset, with undertones of reds, greens and pinks and a metallic sheen that made them glimmer in the candlelight. But it was her wings, of course, that were the real giveaway of her exotic nature.

Her wings were like a bird's, but far larger and looked more than capable of carrying her weight. Though they were mostly hidden beneath the blue fabric of her cloak the feathers, which were of similar color to those on her head and had the same metallic sheen, stuck out from beneath and were so long that they dragged across the floor when she walked.

"Hello, Gandalf," the skyling said, a cheerful tone to her melodic voice. "How goes the dwarf-wrangling?"

"It's a rather simple task, when one has someone else to do the actual wrangling," the wizard responded, mirroring the skyling woman's pleasant and playful demeanor. He leaned toward her over the table, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Tell me, Kelda, that you have not forgotten the legendary stubbornness of dwarves?"

"How could I? It's outdone only by the stubbornness of gryphons!" Kelda answered with a light laugh, thanking the halfling barmaid when she delivered the ordered stew. "Speaking of which, I should not linger overlong. Sitheiyra did not like the idea of leaving me to fend for myself here and I've no doubt that she'll storm the walls if she believes I've been gone for too long a time. What is the word on the expedition? Is it still set to proceed?"

"I've marked the location for the gathering; we will be recruiting the fourteenth member of the company there tonight," Gandalf said in confirmation, watching as Kelda ate a few spoonfuls of stew. "The expedition should be leaving in the morning, once we have everyone gathered together."

"And what of me? You're certain Oakenshield will allow me to join? I have no wish to antagonize him and follow along without his consent. As much as I see Erebor as my home it is, first and foremost, his."

"He can hardly afford to turn down the willing assistance of a resourceful battle-mage."

"That's not an answer."

"Have you ever known a dwarf to break a contract, Kelda?"

"No," Kelda answered with a slight sigh. "No, but the contract between my mother and the King Under the Mountain is not the reason I'm here."

Gandalf raised his eyebrows at her slightly, a somewhat serious and questioning look crossing his features. Kelda frowned upon seeing it, making a disgruntled huff as she did. The skyling found she was offended by his insinuated question, and was hardly going to hide it.

"Don't look at me like that, wizard. What do you think I am, some human lord? We Skylings never break a promise. Our word is our bond, and I certainly have no intention of backing out of the contract if the Erebor dwarves wish it to be honored. I am more than willing to sacrifice freedom of choice for the sake of my people. I simply wish to get that makalful wyrm out of my childhood home."

"Thorin was quite interested to hear of your wish to join the company. He'll accept your help. He'd be a fool not to," Gandalf answered confidently, a brief flash of amusement at Kelda's spirited response crossing his face. The wizard had come to expect such behavior from Skylings; they were, in general, a very expressive, exuberant, passionate and yet respectful and traditional people who were more often than not so full of energy they seemed fit to burst. Kelda, although having been taught to keep a more calm and professional demeanor and having learned from her time with the Erebor dwarves how to more effectively keep to herself, was no exception and Gandalf briefly worried that the Company might not be able to keep up.

Kelda blinked at Gandalf's response, fidgeting slightly in her chair. She sometimes wondered if he could peer through the fogs of time, as the Seers could, and glimpse the future. He always seemed so sure of what he said, speaking as if it was carved in stone. Kelda liked to think that she sounded that assured, but she knew she probably didn't. She had never been able to make herself have that much confidence in herself and her words.

"If you say so, Bahirkhi," she answered, finishing up the last bites of stew before leaving the right amount of coins for her meal and Gandalf's. "You're going to the Shire tonight? You don't think there's any chance they'd welcome a Muzmulomil among them, do you?"

"The folk of the Shire are a very sheltered lot," the wizard answered, emphasizing 'sheltered' with a tone of what could have been exasperation. "They will find even a gathering of dwarves a strange and disruptive oddity."

"I expected as much. Some people just can't handle how fantastic my darling girl is. Well, that's alright. They'll just be in for quite a shock, is all; I'm certain they'll get over it." Kelda stood, shuffling her wings against her spine at the thought of having to go back out into the rain. It was still before noon; hopefully the rain would stop before long. She hated rain. As Gandalf stood as well, she looked up at him and smiled brightly, seeming completely oblivious to the way he towered over her. "Try not to cause any trouble without me! I'd hate to miss out."

Gandalf didn't have time to respond before the skyling was gone, pulling her hood back up over her head and vanishing into the crowd. The Grey Wizard couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. Oh yes, they would have a hard time keeping up with her, indeed.

Khuzdul Translations:

Muzmulomil- Beast of the Night

Makalful- Cursed

Bahirkhi- Wise One