++++++ I do not own the Hobbit or any affiliated characters apart from my OC. All rights belong to Tolkien ++++++

One

When I close my eyes I can almost see the lush green grass and golden autumn leaves of my home of Lothlorien. I can almost feel the cool summer air against my skin and the feel of the water as I danced barefoot in the stream amongst my sisters. It almost feels as though I am home once again.

But when I open my eyes again here I am lying in the dirt and mud with the rain falling down around me and the sound of men laughing at me from inside the nice warm inn. This wasn't how I had planned to finish my day.

I closed my eyes again and prepared to get to my feet, to stand my ground when suddenly the rain stopped falling-well at least on my face anyway. Over the sound of rain and the laughter of men I heard a familiar chuckle that belonged to a man I had not seen in an age.

"And here I find you in the mud brawling with men," spoke a bemused voice, "how typical of you, Falathiel."

I opened my eyes and a grin spread across my wet face as I stared at the upside-down face of Gandalf the Grey. "I would have assumed by now that you would have come to grips with the fact that I am not your typical Elf, Mithrandir."

My oldest and dearest friend, my wizened teacher of many years and the only family I have ever known, extended an old hand to help me out of the mud. His serious face had broken out into an infectious laugh and despite the fact I was soaked through to the bone and covered in mud, he pulled me into his arms. "No my dear, you most certainly are not."

Your typical Elves of Middle-Earth are described as the fairest creatures to ever walk in this realm. They are creatures of extraordinary grace, skill and beauty who live at one with nature, never taking more than what they needed. They were healers and craftsmen of the greatest kind, only going to war when all other hope was lost.

I wasn't what you would call a typical Elf.

"What brings you to Bree, Mithrandir?" I inquired, brushing the mud off my leggings and shirt as best I could. "It certainly wasn't to drag my ass out of the mud."

Gandalf ushered me back inside the inn, mumbling about getting out of the rain and causing an old man to catch his death in this kind weather. He dragged us back towards our table where my other dearest friend lay on the ground, his head in his muddy white paws. "I see that Spirit has grown," Gandalf noted, bending to sit and scratch the wolf behind the ears. "Last time we met, he was still a pup."

"He still is," I retorted, waving two fingers in the air to order two pints of ale.

"It has taken me a very long time to find you," Gandalf pointed out. He removed his cloak and his pointed hat then sat them on the chair beside him to dry. "First I tracked you to Minas Tirith than to Rohan, you stayed several nights in Isengard then moved on to Helm's Deep before finally making your way to Bree. You are a hard woman to find."

I smirked as the barkeeper's son brought our ale over to us. "I stick to the shadows Gandalf, you know that."

Unlike my brothers and sisters, I had little to no affinity at nature and craftsmanship like they did, my affinity was with darkness and shadow. The birth of an Elf is one of the greatest moments in any society of Elves from Lothlorien to Rivendell to the Woodland Realm, our birth is celebrated for days on end and all inside the city are part of the child's education and upbringing. I had spent the first hundred years with my family, never really fitting in, never belonging anywhere. I never picked up healing or the arts or any skill at crafting but I was incredibly good at the blade and the bow, I was a great hunter and I suited my name well. Falathiel meant huntress in our language.

When I decided to leave home I was one hundred and two years old, my sister Eleniel was getting married so it was easy to slip away. From there I spent years on the road, earning my keep as a hired-hand, a hunter, a tracker, a blade. I cut my hair short and changed my clothes just so that I would fit in amongst the humans-these days they usually didn't take me for an Elf until one of them had me in a headlock during a bar brawl. I was almost three hundred when I met Gandalf, the old wizard was kind enough to allow me to travel with him-he even taught me a thing or two about magic along the way. At five hundred years old I was content enough with my life and the friends I had gathered along the way-the only problem was that every time I closed my eyes I could do nothing else but think of home. I did not want to go home but my soul was being pulled back and I was having trouble resisting the urge.

My parents had done everything right in raising me, I just never fit in and I didn't want to shame them by returning like this.

"Enjoy your ale, Leila," the young lad smiled.

I flashed him a flirty smile and tucked a loose strand of hand behind my ear. He backed away slightly at the sight of the pointed ear adorned with several piercings. When he was gone, Gandalf shook his head with a chuckle. "Leila?" he questioned with that same smile.

"You have your names and I have mine," I answered, taking a gulp of ale. "Now, you spent a lot of time hunting me down so please tell me why you were looking for me. I doubt it was just for my company."

My teacher cleared his throat. "Ah-yes. Falathiel, I am looking for someone of your talents, a tracker to help myself and a company of fourteen to reclaim the lost kingdom of Erebor."

I choked on my ale and spat what I hadn't gulped down all over the table causing the whole inn to burst out with laughter. Gandalf handed me something to clean my face off as I tried to tell myself what I just heard had been a joke.

I don't think it was.

"Erebor was lost to the dragon Smaug!" I argued. "Mithrandir…I'm reckless but not stupid!"

Gandalf stared at me but he did not say anything.

"In case you hadn't noticed," I scoffed, trying again, "I'm an Elf. I may be strange for an Elf but I'm an Elf all the same. I've run into Thorin Oakenshield several times and on each occasion he has cursed my existence. What makes you think that he will allow me to come?"

"You have a unique talent, Falathiel," Gandalf assured me, "I'm counting on your ability to remain unseen and unheard, your ability to stick to the shadows and gather information that no one can. Your place is here with Thorin's company on this quest. I feel that there will be many who seek to put a stop to this quest and I feel that you can be a great help to Thorin even if he does not yet know it."

I remained silent as I mulled over everything in my head. Everything Gandalf had said was true, I was good and being unseen and unheard, shadows were my tools, I struck from the darkness and left no one alive. But still, I was an Elf and Dwarves do not like Elves.

"I would insist that you sleep on it," Gandalf assured me. "I would have you sleep on it and then join me at Bag End in Hobbiton, at the home of Bilbo Baggins, in two days' time."

"You're not staying?" I questioned, looking up from my ale.

Gandalf shook his head. "I have much to do, Falathiel, but not so much that I cannot finish this ale and catch up with my favourite student."

I smiled. "Thank you, Mithrandir. I would be honoured for you to sit at my table."

We started speaking, our voices getting lost inside the inn as we caught up with each other. Maybe I would go and help Gandalf and Thorin reclaim Erebor, who knows what could happen?