A/N: Hello! So this is my first attempt at fanfics ever, and my first attempt at writing in a very, very long time. I'm not sure if anyone really reads/writes LOTR fanfic anymore, but if you're out there and you want to let me know what you think, I'd appreciate it! The story isn't done yet and I'm not sure exactly where I'll take it from here (I do have a general outline though, don't worry!), so any suggestions or input you have would be very welcome. This chapter is mostly to get my feet wet and writing out there.
I'm not an expert on Middle Earth by any means, so if I make any mistakes in geography or history, or whatnot, I apologize. Speaking of mistakes, this chapter/story is unbetad, so any grammar or spelling mistakes are mine although I tried my best to avoid them.
Also, I don't own any of this. That would be the wonderful JRR Tolkein. He's pretty cool :)
Chapter 1
Strider stooped down and brushed the flattened grass in front of him with his fingertips. Then he sat back on his heels, thinking.
He'd been on his way to return to Imladris when he'd gotten sidetracked by the trail of a party of Orcs, not too far from the border of the hidden valley where his childhood home lay. He wasn't sure why they were roaming this close, but it certainly wasn't good. Their trail seemed to purposefully skirt the areas that might be watched by the elves, which wasn't typical of the normally thickheaded brutes.
Their tracks seemed to indicate that there were about 20-30 in the group, a medium sized hunting party. But what were they hunting? And why? It was too small to be a real threat to the elves, but large enough to be of concern.
Strider knew he couldn't fight the Orcs on his own and it wouldn't do him any good to keep following them for now. He wouldn't be able to stop them, whatever it was they were doing. He stood and decided to continue on his path so that he could inform Lord Elrond upon his return.
Elrond. Strider had been with the Rangers for so long, he wasn't sure how his foster father would greet him upon his return. Truth be told, he'd always felt a little bit nervous around the older elf, even when he lived there. Returning after being gone so long only served to heighten man's anxiety. He could only imagine the elf's dispassionate eyes staring down at him, one eyebrow raised as he caught Strider with one hand in the cookie jar- both literally and figuratively. How many times had he tried to convince Elrond that human children required much more nourishment than elflings? And that cookies were a vital part of it.
Speaking of elflings, he was looking forward to seeing his foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, after such a long time apart. The two of them together were absolutely incorrigible, but it was nice to have some relief from the normally serious atmosphere that seemed to follow all elves around like a cloud. Strider grinned as he thought of the two of them arguing over some trivial matter- right now it seemed like music to his ears. Or at least it would be for the first five seconds.
His pace had slowed as he got lost in his musings. He was now getting deep into the forrest surrounding Imladris, and closer and closer to the doors that held his old family. The elves on patrol must have recognized him and decided not to stop him before he reached his destination. He would almost welcome a delay at this point, as he was all of a sudden not sure how Elladan and Elrohir would receive him either. Would they be angry he stayed away so long? Treat him like a stranger? He'd been in their lives such a short time, for elves. They measured time so differently from humans. Perhaps they had forgotten him already.
He shook his head impatiently. Of course they hadn't forgotten him! If the time he was with them had seemed short, then the time he was away would seem even shorter. Right?
He had reached the courtyard around the Last Homely House. He took a deep breath and reached out to knock on the giant doors.
