So I started writing this just last night and I don't know if I'll continue it, but it seems like a decent start. Also I just do not understand the lack of Fili stories because he is perf.
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Ilia Darrow woke up one bright morning on the eve of summer, and instantly wished she could sleep through the day. That particular day was Ilia's 28th birthday. It was a day she had been dreading for quite some time, for her mother, Marilise, had the nasty habit of reminding her on these days that she would not be young forever. Every birthday since she was 16 was an event. There was a great dinner and guests, and Ilia was not blind to the fact that most of them where men.

When she turned 26 and became the last of her siblings to leave home, affectionately named the Darrows, for marriage, it became unbearable, but unavoidable. So she went downstairs that day, knowing and dreading what was to come on this, the day of her birth.

When Ilia was only eight years old, she enjoyed playing soldiers in the dirt with her brothers, the twins. They were two years younger, but much closer to her in personality than their sister. Long into the night, and long after their mother had taken them to bed would they play. All sorts of games and none meant for a lady.

Whenever Marilise found her second born in her dirty dress with muddy hands and feet, there was always a look she was given. A look somewhere in between disappointment and irritation, one that their mother wore often.

As Ilia stood awkwardly in her party dress, a new fashion from England her mother and sister had twittered on about for minutes before she was allowed into it, she felt that look burn into her back. It wasn't as if she wasn't trying, or that she was opposed to marriage or men in general. Simply, that with all the men she had ever met, none had ever stood out to her. They all seemed to be the same drab noblemen with a different face.

Anyway, most of them seemed completely unimpressed with her as well, with her crooked nose and boyish attitude. It truly was not her fault if she preferred to stay by the finger sandwiches over the party guests, who danced and twirled and entertained shallow conversation.

It was there that Ilia found herself, nearly two hours later, in the grand ballroom of the Darrows. She had been approached by a couple party goers, one of them female, but had overall been ignored for more favorable company. On this, the day of her birth. It came to such a point, that she could not stand to be in the same room as her sisters and their friends, so she waited. She waited until her mother had focused on another guest, and her sisters their husbands, then Ilia escaped.

The only place in the whole of the manor that she felt truly safe was her room, so that was where she went. It was absurd, running from her own party, in her own home, in that ridiculous dress that came up just a bit too far above her calves for her to be comfortable in it. Yet, no matter how silly it seemed, when she entered her room and shut the door firmly behind her, she felt a bit better. The weight of her mother and her age lifted from her shoulders and she was again that eight year old in the mud with her brothers.

That's when she saw it. Just above her window a light shone, leaving a reflection in the top corner. Ilia quickly drew up the front of her house in her mind, but could remember nothing that would cause such a light. Even when the window was open, and she craned her neck as far as it would turn, there was nothing to be seen but a glow, just to the right above her.

Curiosity was taking over now, and she quickly glanced to her door to make sure it was shut, before hoisting herself out onto the window ledge. It was stupid, and it was reckless but it put a smile on her face. Ilia felt brave, as she pulled herself the rest of the way out, balancing precariously on the ledge. Braver than her brothers, braver than anyone in her family could imagine her being.

She felt brave and she could finally see that light, just for a second, before her footing was lost and she lurched backwards. Then the smile fell from her lips. Then, she felt just as young as her mother always said she wasn't anymore.

Then, she fell.

And when she opened her eyes, after her breath had been caught and her pain had subsided for the most part, it was daytime. Which was quite strange, as in had been past supper when she fell, but not quite as strange as the tree she was now under. She sat up, glancing around at the odd scenery around her. It was beautiful yes, any other time she would have loved to explore, but she had no idea of where it was. Nothing looked familiar; there were no signs, no paths, and no landmarks to help her find her way.

Her first idea, though admittedly not a brilliant one, was to climb back into the tree and go back the way she came. Honestly, she would take a two story fall and a scolding from her mother than to be so hopelessly lost. All she got for her efforts were several green smears on her already dirty dress and a deep fright as she climbed back down the tree, not liking the feeling of dropping.

Far away, though, just over the wind she could hear voices. Strange voices, to be sure, but voices all the same. Very distantly over a hill she could see them, a group of what looked like large children and a tall man with a hat that pointed at the top.

Instantly, Ilia became wary. She was in a place she did not recognize, and how she had gotten there she could not remember. Was she to simply put her hope in this man and trust he and his group would not have any nefarious motives? The thought passed, discarded, but not without much deliberation. How likely was it that she would find her way to any civilization on her own, let alone make it back to her home in that way? For the moment, all she could do was put her fragile trust in this man, and hope she could fight them off if the conversation turned sour.

The closer they got, however, the more she wanted to climb back up into her tree and try again to find her house. The easier it became to see this bunch, the more she wished she could not; for the closer they got, the more she realized they were not children, and that he was not just a man. It was too late; if she could see them in such gruesome detail then surely they could see the same of her.

As soon as they were close enough to be heard clearly, the man spoke in a deep voice, one that comforted Ilia and made her guarded in the same moment.

"Good morning, my Lady."

"Is it?" She answered back, eyeing them all with stark distrust. "Is it that you are wishing me a good morning, or simply saying that this morning is good?"

The man smiled, obviously pleased, though she could not fathom why. "Both, I suppose. What is it that brings you to these woods, might I ask? They are a danger to any strong men willing to brave them, let alone a single unarmed woman."

"I suppose..." she hesitated, "I suppose I have lost my way. I only wished to satisfy my curiosity, and now I cannot find the path back to my home."

"Gandalf," one of the small men, one with a rather impressive ginger beard, intervened, "we cannot leave a child out in the wilderness by her lonesome." The others murmured in agreement, and the tall man - Gandalf, she assumed - nodded.

"Indeed, it is likely that she would not last the night without a proper weapon. Wild men are one thing, but Orc's can be seen in these woods on occasion."

"She could come with us." Said the smallest and youngest looking of the group. When everyone turned to him he flushed, but continued his thought. "At least to the next village. That's only half a day's walk, is it not?"

Gandalf smiled at him, and he seemed to boil red in his joy. "You are correct, Ori. Should she choose so, she shall accompany us into town." All of their gazes turned to her, expectant. "My Lady?"

Ilia wondered how they could accept her so easily, having just met her mere moments ago, and part of her wanted to hesitate because of it. Yet she knew if she did not go with them that she might never find another to guide her, at least one so willing to guide. So she took a deep breath and put out her hand to that Gandalf fellow.

"Ilia, of the Darrows."