Hi everyone! Addie here. So this is my first Hobbit fanfic. I don't claim to be an expert on Middle Earth so feel free to comment anything that doesn't fit with Tolkien's world. I am a huge fan of the book and the movies so I just couldn't resist writing my own fanfic. I hope you guys enjoy it! Of course I own none of the characters except for Nimroel and Uncle Eddy. Please RxR and thanks for reading:)
Prologue
The attack had come and gone before Gandalf could round the bend in the path. He saw claw marks in the dirt from several enormous creatures and heard the receding howls of the animals echoing throughout the chilly night air. Finally rounding the bend, anticipation locked in his chest, he came upon the scene of the attack. The smell of blood perfumed the air like springtime flowers and not a sound could be heard. Moving cautiously in the darkness, he followed the massive paw prints off the path and towards a large tree. Casting a light with his staff, his eyes fell upon a gruesome scene.
A man lay face down on the ground, blood soaking his back where a large animal had raked their claws along his skin. Blood still ran in thick, crimson rivers across his body to pool on the ground beside him and stick in his hair. Although much of his garb was destroyed, it was still evident to Gandalf that he was dressed in fine riding gear although his steed appeared to have bolted.
Grimacing, he stepped around the body and continued to follow the paw prints around the tree. However, the sight he came upon was worse than the one before. A woman sat huddled against the trunk, her pale blond hair dyed red with blood. An open wound shaped suspiciously like a bite mark was gushing with blood at such a rate that Gandalf wondered how she still had any to spare. Stepping closer, he saw with a start that the woman was very much alive.
Rushing to her side, he became aware of two things at once. Firstly, this in fact was no woman but an elf—a high elf based on her clothing and her high cheekbones and severely arched brows. Secondly, she was holding a child. Gandalf stared with sadness as the child rolled over inside its silver wrappings, unaware that its mother was dying
A small sigh of unhappiness escaped Gandalf's lips as he reached for the babe. However, a frail hand closed around his wrist before he could take the child.
"Nimroel," the mother panted, clearly close to her end. "Her name is Nimroel." Gandalf took the elf woman's hand between his own and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"I will take her somewhere safe, do not fear," he murmured soothingly. The woman's shoulders slumped in relief, a thin layer of perspiration covering her face as she struggled to hold on. With a slight jerking motion, she pulled a small silver ring with a pearl from her finger and dropped in into Gandalf outstretched hand.
"Do not let her forget us," she mumbled, the light beginning to fade from her silver eyes. One last, rasping breath came and then she was gone, her head rocking back and her arms falling limply from her child's side to the ground.
Taking the babe and the ring, Gandalf got to his feet slowly, his heard heavy. Where should I take the child? Certainly not to Gondor or Rohan. Gandalf did not trust many of the men that inhabited those cities. However, he could not take her to Mirkwood or Rivendell. She was half human and would not be accepted fully by the elves. Suddenly an image of wide rolling hills and little round doors filled his mind. Yes, she will be safe there. I will take her to the Shire.