It began long ago, in a land far away to the East, the like of which you will not find in the world today. There was the city of Dale, its markets known far and wide, full of the bounties of fine and veil, peaceful and prosperous. It was home to one very special little girl—a Halfling.
Not a Halfling as in the Hobbits of the Shire, no, the first of her kind. Her father, Karan, was a dwarf of Moria, and seemed content to mine his life away. But the one time, the only time he left their gates for the outside world, it was the last time he ever saw home.
Elliya was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, more precious than any jewel. They met be accident, and could have easily looked the other way, but fate would not allow one of these two to go unnoticed by the other. Their courtship was simple, humble, too fast, and the beginning of something unbreakable.
Their decision to marry was unheard of, and began an uproar amongst the two cities of Moria and Rivendell. Elliya was a prominent figure from a respected family, and her King would be damned if he let her be swept away by the likes of a dwarf. Lord Elrond was furious but failed to stop her escape. Karan was quite the opposite, a mere miner whose status was minute. But his disappearance did not go unnoted, and whispers spread through the caves like wildfire of a dwarf who deserted his kind for the love of an elf.
For the safety of their spouse, man and wife left their homes to start a new life free from oppression and opposition. They settled in the human city of Dale, where Elliya could receive praise for her jewelry, and Karan arose a smithery. Amongst the dizzying happiness of their so-called paradise, fate would interfere again. Both the Elves and Dwarves had only protested mildly because they were sure that the species, separated by biology, would be unable to bear children. They could let the couple's treachery disappear into legend with no evidence of the affair aside from hear-telling. But they all had been so wrong. This tiny bundle of life with a shock of auburn hair and pointed ears, was proof that love alone is capable of performing miracles. Defying what was thought to be fact, and born out of intentions so pure, their baby girl marked the beginning of an alliance between two races formerly destined for hate.
But for such a blessing the price was almost unsurmountable. Karan and Elliya had given up everything to be together, and custom was once again breathing down their necks. If the humans, however unbiased they claimed to be, were to discover the Halfling's heritage, she might be driven out or even killed. The couple became migrant while Elliya carried their child, but coming home with a child and no story that made sense would mean disaster and disgrace. They lied and told the community that she was an abandoned Hobbit, a statement no one would question with the child's pointed ears and tiny body. She was even given the surname Olivebranch to distinguish her apart from her adoptive parents.
"It means peace." Karan purred while stroking the softly furred head of his daughter, her green eyes peering up at him with unrestrained innocence.
Elliya adjusted the bundle in her arms, pressing the infant closer to her breast. "So that the whole world will know what you were meant for. Even if you do not."
The young Aryn was a giant presence for such a small body: always laughing, never bored, and so thankful to be alive. Her parents were blessed with twenty more wonderful years, long enough to watch their precious Aryn become a young woman. She was only 3 and a half feet tall, stunted by unstable genes, yet her spirit seemed to scrape the clouds. Karan and Elliya couldn't be more proud to produce such a lovely creature. But fate was not so kind to them, and now that this most important piece of the future was grown, their services were no longer required.
Among the horizon, a dragon had come to rest his eyes on Dale, so perfectly nestled against the door to his prize: Erebor. The city under the mountain, overflowing with rivers of gold, would fall to him and their pleasant city would not go unscathed.
These years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. On the morning of Aryn's 20th birthday, the first noise they heard was a sound like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in the hot, dry wind.
Thorin, a young man at the time, approached the walls with a face of worry. "Sound the alarm. Call out the guards, do it now!"
"What is it?" Balin called back over the wind.
"Dragon. DRAGON!" He yelled into the corridor, covered up by the beast's ungodly screech.
He was a firedrake from the North—Smaug had come. Such wanton death was dealt that day, for this city of man was nothing to Smaug.
"Happy birthday, my beautiful baby." Karan beamed, rubbing a thick paw over his daughter's thin shoulder and leaning down to place a kiss on her crown.
"I think on this day it's time for you hold onto this for me." He smiled and reached behind his mane of brown hair to unclasp a necklace. Upon pulling it from his shirt strings, a teardrop emerald glimmered at the end of a golden chain.
Aryn gasped and threw her hands up to her face. "Oh father, are you sure? Your mother gave that to you."
"And it's yours now. I don't need it; you are my jewel."
The dwarf carefully clasped the chain behind her hair, pulling the strands out and over the piece of gold. "See? Both of my treasures are in one place now."
Aryn picked up the stone in her palm, rolling it and the diamonds that formed its halo against her skin. "Thank you. I wish th—"
Grroowwwllllll.
Their happy moment was shattered, and the whole family turned with fear to the open window. Stone cracking and fire hissing could be heard in the distance, and a deafening roar that startled them all to cover their ears. Brave Aryn burst from her home at the first terrible screams, keen eyes darting around to search for the source of danger. Her ears upturned to the sound of the alarm, a consonant chord among a dissonant air.
She turned to go back inside, meeting her parent's worried eyes only moments before there was a giant explosion of fire and dust. The impact threw her small body nearly across the street, and when she lifted her head to peer through the rubble, they were gone. Their house was a pile of broken stone and splintered wood, smoking with the makings of the burning building that had fallen upon it.
"MOTHER! FATHER!" She cried, her tiny voice cracking with the strain. Were it not for the houses that seemed to burst around her, Aryn would have clawed through the debris in desperation for a lost cause. Her legs bolted beneath her, and she took off in the direction away from the flames. The wind tore the tears from her eyes, and she blindly managed to pick up a sword from the wreckage of their business down the road. A pony without a rider tore across the path, neighing in fright when Aryn seized his reigns and hopped aboard.
Near the end of the street a child was spotted by the well, clutching the ropes and staring brokenly at the smoldering remains of what could have been a toy.
The Half-Elf's toned arms scooped up the girl, holding her as they managed to dodge a burst of the dragon's breath. The young girl clutched her tunic, sobbing into the rough material.
"Help me, please!"
"Yes, baby. I've got you." Aryn's strong arms balanced the girl in her elbow and managed to clutch the reigns of the galloping horse. "Where are your parents?"
"Oh, mommy! Daddy!" The child cried, pointing behind them at the inferno that Aryn assumed was their humble home.
"Oh Mahal." The Halfling whispered, holding someone's daughter close as they tore down the dusty road.
Aryn came upon a set of tied horses, frightened and neighing frantically for help. She set the girl atop the shaggy brown fur, and pried her fingers from her shirt to put them in the pony's mane.
"No, don't leave me! Take me with you!" The tiny stranger shrieked, attempting to jump down.
"No! You can't go where I'm going, it's too dangerous. Ride for the pastures outside the city. That is where the people will go." Aryn spoke while strapping the girl's feet inside the stirrups.
"No, please. Don't leave me." Her sobs hiccupped out of her, bubbling down in hot tears.
"Don't be afraid, little one. Everything will be all right. I promise. Just get to the survivors along the river. Now go, RUN!" The little girl nodded with tears streaming down her face, burying them in the thick mane when Aryn cut the animal free and it took off into a cloud of smoke.
Armed with a scorched sword and a skittish mount, Aryn ran to look for survivors. She herded a few frightened souls away from falling debris, and kept riding as fast as the animal could take her, dodging cracking stone and bundles of flame. After carrying a small boy and infant to other humans for help, she finally took off for the grasslands. Reaching safe, green grass, she peered down at her ruined home, and the plundering of her neighbors. Erebor was lost, for a dragon will guard his plunder as long as he lives.
Below, outside the smoldering gates, Thorin urged his people to scatter, and spotted the elf King high on the ridge of the valley.
"Help us!" He called, pleading with desperate blue eyes. But Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the Elves that day, or any day since.
Robbed of their homeland, the Dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness, a once mighty people brought low. The young Dwarf Prince took work where he could find it, laboring in the villages of men, but always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright. He had seen dragon fire in the sky, and a city turned to ash. And he never forgave that he never forgot.
The now orphaned Halfling faired as such. The pastures were empty when she reached them. Her trained eyes scanned the ground, tracking hooves or footprints in the dirt, but there were none. No one besides herself had made it that far. She spun the pony around, looking for any survivors along the city walls. Only those few walking alone from the wreckage, counted on a single hand, were anywhere to be seen. Her breath came out in frantic pants, wild eyes scanning the grass. Jabbing her heels into the pony to search the city again, it reared back, throwing the unfamiliar rider down and off its back. Aryn landed with a heavy thud and a sharp crack, and felt the makings of tears sting her eyes. She gritted her teeth, cradling her fractured forearm that threatened to break the skin and staring unbelieving at the smoldering rubble that once was her home.
"Mother... FATHER!" The Halfling shouted to nowhere, dropping her head as she gave in to the sobs that racked her body.
Behind her, the pony was neighing frantically, bucking and rearing on the verge of a heart attack. Aryn scowled at the foolish creature, ripping off her outer tunic to drape and twist it around her arm in an excuse for a sling. She got to her feet, and yanked on the reigns to bring the black snout to her face.
"Listen to me, you pathetic excuse for a pony." She spat.
"I will ride you out of here, or so help me I will feed you to the dragon!" She yelled into its nostrils.
"Understand?!" As if scolded by its mother the horse relented, laying his ears back and visibly seeming to sag in the middle. Grumbling under her breath, the Halfling used her good arm to lift herself onto its back, and pull the reigns in the direction of the sky without smoke.
With only the clothes on her back, a broken arm, and a disgruntled stead, she set out to take refuge with the only people she would pass for: the Hobbits. They welcomed her to their homely holes, where she did her best to hide from the nightmares behind second breakfasts and soft beds. But the fire inside her began to grow, and she left for the Iron Hills, telling herself that her father's people might heal her aching heart. She longed for a distraction, danger, and mistook these feelings for the confusion after a traumatic experience. In actuality, it was her conscience urging her towards a purpose that couldn't be fulfilled in the safety of the Shire. But it was there that she met Gandalf, a wizard who was so fascinated by this lean "Hobbit" that held a fire in her eyes. And it was later that he asked her to join him on an adventure.