Cold.
That's most all I feel these days. It's so hard for me to feel anything. Emotions, temperatures…I'd have to be literally on fire before I even felt pain. Why, you ask? I'm dead.
That's right. I'm a revenant, possessing my own undecaying corpse. Before, however, I was a hobbit-girl.
My name is Altheia Baggins, sister to the more famous Bilbo Baggins. Let me tell you my story…
Bilbo and Altheia were walking together. Altheia was an adult hobbit of thirty-four, but Bilbo was twenty-nine. It was going to be his thirtieth tomorrow, and Altheia had gotten him out so his considerable store of presents could be hid.
Looking at her little brother, Altheia felt a rush of affection. He was different, sure, always playing by the river and running in the woods, but so what? Who cares what everyone else thought? Life was fun, with her brother around.
"What shall we do today, Bilbo?" Altheia asked, ignoring the stares from young hobbit men. It was nice when everyone thought you were beautiful, but life's too short to be messing around with that too much.
"I don't know," her little brother answered. "Go to the woods maybe? We might see elves!" Her brother's enthusiasm brought a smile to her face.
"We probably won't, Bil', but we can look." The two took off down the hill. In fifteen minutes, the two were at the woods. Once in, the pair began a game of hide and seek.
Some time later…
Bilbo shivered. Where was Altheia? They should be heading back by now!
Picking a direction, he took off, calling for his sister. Until…
"Bilbo…"
Bilbo whirled in circles. "Altheia?" he called.
"Here…"
Bilbo took off immediately in the direction of her voice. His sister was hurt. He had to get there in time.
Suddenly a ravine balked him. It clearly had been a riverbed once, but now there was no water. Peering into it, he saw Altheia. Her dress was torn and muddy, liberally stained with mahogany blood. Her black hair was tangled and filthy, and one of her legs was bent at a wrong angle.
"Oh Altheia…"
He reached one hand down. She smiled wryly.
"Well, you found me. Be a good chap and run for the doctor, would you?"
Bilbo ran for the surgeon. Altheia slumped. Tired…she was so tired. Maybe close her eyes a bit…
I bet you can guess what happened next. I don't think little bro had any thing of a party that year.
So I lay in a grave, until, ten years before my brother's first adventure with thirteen dwarves and one wizard, I was brought out as a ghost. By the Necromancer of Dol Guldur.
I don't remember my eight years in his service. It was either too boring, or too horrible, or maybe just because I didn't have a corporeal body then. I do remember my "prison break" though.
Five other ghosts and I managed to escape the Necromancer's stronghold. It wasn't easy, mind you. Dol Guldur is like one of those houses in nightmares, where every door and room, conceals a horrible threat. Distances stretched, and it took forever to get to the bottom of the stairs.
But we did. However, in doing so we became revenants, possessing our now undecayed and undecaying bodies.
Despite our escape together, we weren't close. We were two Men, two elves, one dwarf called, surprisingly, Thror, and one hobbit-girl. Me.
So there you have it. My backstory. Not the best, I suppose, but I never was a good storyteller.
I live in Mirkwood, mostly. Having fever-bright eyes, white skin, and a gray mouth doesn't make you popular.
I did take place in my brother's first adventure, but, alas, that's for another day…