An Elvish maiden lingered by the latticed pillar, watching the dwarves' progress with keen, quiet eyes. Her fair skin emitted a faintly ominous glow from where she stood in partial shadow and the pair of silver eyes glinted as they moved. Her long hair, the framing strands pinned back, was neither blonde nor brown but of an almost mousey hue that shimmered like starlight in the light evening breeze. The mysterious demeanour with which the maiden held herself gave an ethereal air of one all-knowing, all-seeing. This was the Lady Lairiel of the Moorlands, named The One Crowned with Starlight in the Sindarin tongue for her unusual mantle. Being of dual Imladris and Woodland Realm kin, she was one fused with two temperaments and thus had elected to lead the life of an outcast. She wandered between and around her homelands, oft in the company of the Rangers of the North, aiding their task of protecting those who resided in the dangerous parts of the world. She was neither here nor there, they said, but arrived when needed and disappeared without a trace. In the far south in the realms by the sea they called her a witch; in the north, a spirit. Gandalf knew her well as he had known her mother and father. Orcs and goblins, too, knew her with a murderous disposition. Only hence the five years that had passed had she found housing in the Hidden Valley of Imladris, serving as Captain of Lord Elrond's guard. Stories of her skill with a bow had passed through Middle Earth as legendary, though many that saw her did not know the tales belonged to her.

As the dwarf company set foot upon the bridge, Lord Elrond appeared at her side like a shadow. He, too, seemed to shine slightly in the weak evening light.

'You are ready?' he inquired lightly in Quenya.

Lairiel nodded once, her eyes slightly narrowed as she watched the dwarves.

'I do not understand,' she murmured. 'The halfling?'

'Of Mithrandir's choosing.'

'Of course, but why?'

'I did not inquire,' said Elrond, and she could hear a smile in his voice. 'He has his ways and reasons, it is not for me to attempt to unravel them.'

Lairiel inclined her head before turning to look up at Elrond. Though her features were a carefully honed mask of neutrality, her clear grey eyes betrayed an almost childlike faith in the man before her. He smiled as this did not go amiss.

'Go,' he instructed kindly, waving a hand at the company's retreating backs. 'I do not doubt we shall be reacquainted shortly.'

Lairiel sighed wearily.

'This shall be interesting to say the least,' she said, and inclined her head to Elrond before springing up the steps to the bridge.

Her gait was swift as she pursued Thorin's figure at the head of the party.

'Master Oakenshield!' she called, in her high, clear voice, and Thorin immediately stopped in his tracks.

The dwarves, their eyes collectively stretched wide, parted as she passed through their midst.

'And just where do you think you are going?'

Thorin's eyes looked daggers into the maiden's mild face. She raised her fair brow slightly, betraying a hint of incredulity at his upfront rudeness, however she allowed a small smile to smooth his arrogance.

'Accompanying you, of course,' she replied, with an inclination of the head.

'Why would my company require the presence of an elf?' Thorin retorted, and the hand placed on his swordhilt did not go amiss.

'Because Lord Elrond commands it,' she said patiently. 'He has requested I join your ranks for counsel and assistance where it may permit. Nothing more.'

Thorin's cold demeanour did not waver as he faced her bluntly.

'What are you called?'

'I am Lairiel of the Moorlands.' At this she bowed low and her long silver-brown locks fell over her shoulders to rest upon her breast. 'I hail from the Woodland Realm and thus Lord Elrond has bade me fitting to join your company as we shall be journeying to lands familiar to –'

'Where we shall be journeying is of no business to you,' growled Thorin, his brow bristling dangerously. 'Nor to Elrond. Go back from whence you came.'

He turned his haughty shoulder upon the fair Lairiel, leaving her with her lips still parted in surprise where he had cut her sentence short. With a small sigh, she watched Thorin's fur-clad back retreating between the dwarves that parted their company for him. All their eyes had shifted from her to Thorin, and yet slowly, pair by pair, they returned to watch the maiden's expression. Some were wary and resolute, some were clearly conflicted. Her light beauty was unfamiliar to all of them and her persistent closeness put all of the dwarves on their guard; even Bilbo was acutely conscious of her presence. She was strange and fair, and her step was silent as she passed in Thorin's wake.

'I must insist,' she pressed, but her words caught in her throat as Thorin turned abruptly to glare at her. His stare was like black stone.

'No, I must insist,' he said lowly. 'Your presence is unwelcome amongst my company.'

'I cannot return to Imladris –'

'Then go elsewhere.'

'Under the orders of Lord Elrond, I am to accompany you regardless.'

'My men have no use for you.'

At these words, Lairiel seemed to stand taller and more offensive than before. Her mild disposition gave in to an imposing coldness.

'And what would put you under such an impression?' she asked softly, though her clear eyes glinted like shards of ice under a weak winter sun.

'You are an elf,' Thorin retorted sharply, squaring his shoulders and standing just as tall as her. 'And a woman.'

'I am also the leader of the Guard of the Hidden Valley and the greatest marksman west of the Anduin,' she stated boldly, a fierce defiance flashing across her face. 'My eyes are keener than yours, my bearing swifter and quieter, and I can guarantee you welcome housing in any of the Elven kingdoms east. You, Thorin Oakenshield, would be a fool to refuse my aid.'

For a moment, Thorin remained silent though his jaw was visibly taught. He stared into her steely grey eyes that did not waver in the slightest, weighing his options, considering her use.

'I will hold counsel with my men,' he said finally, with unmasked reluctance, 'at the foot of the Mountain Pass. If we decide to accept your offer, I will send Kili here to collect you; if not, we will not return.'

Lairiel's eyes narrowed a mite before she inclined her head and watched the dwarves shuffle off on their way down the valley pass. A few – first Balin, then Kili, then Bofur, and finally the halfling Bilbo – looked back at where she stood still without moving.

Only when they had all but disappeared into the crevices of the rocky path did she return to Imladris. She shadowed through the familiar halls, past those heading out of doors to dine in the cool evening, up the shining staircase and out to the Counsel Pagoda where Elrond and Gandalf stood in quiet discussion.

Elrond looked up immediately and Gandalf, noticing his distraction, followed suit. By their unsurprised expressions, Lairiel knew that they had been discussing her imminent failure to join the company.

'His pride and prejudice will be his downfall,' she said immediately, a cold fire blazing in her eyes, her breast rising and falling rapidly. 'The dwarf is as stubborn as stone; I cannot fathom, Mithrandir, how you were able to suffer his arrogance from the Shire to here.'

'Calm yourself, my lady,' Elrond spoke in Quenya, raising his palms mildly.

Lairiel stopped pacing and sighed.

'Forgive me, my Lord Elrond, I know not why he has frustrated me so.'

Distress knitted her brow as she sat sadly upon a white-oak stool, her shoulders hanging dejectedly as an abomination of her fair purity.

'Thorin is a difficult man,' Gandalf agreed patiently. 'But, you must understand, he has many reasons to distrust elves. I am not saying that he is right to do so –' he added with a small smile, as she had looked up in surprise, 'but distrust them he does. I believe that with enough persistence we can persuade him to tolerate you, at the least.'

'I am not so sure I want him to,' Lairiel murmured, 'though I know I must try.'

'What was his request?' Elrond inquired.

'He told me he would hold counsel with the other dwarves at the mouth of the Mountain Pass and, if I were to be accepted, he would send one Kili to bring me, unburthened, to their camp.'

'A likely tale,' Elrond's lips turned up wryly as he surveyed Gandalf with glittering eyes. 'And a difficult dwarf indeed, Mithrandir.'

'You will accompany me, Lady Lairiel,' Gandalf instructed wearily. 'We will follow from a distance and rejoin the party when time deems it fitting. Then, we will attempt to get some sense into Thorin.'

'I believe it is a task in vain,' said Lairiel, though she smiled as she looked up into Gandalf's exasperated face. 'However, it cannot be left undone.'

'No, it cannot,' Elrond agreed immediately. 'He was fully aware of your intentions?'

'Completely,' Lairiel replied. 'I told him explicitly why I was sent and – and he said I was of no use because I am an elf, and a woman.'

'Words of a blinded fool,' said Elrond quickly, but gently. His cool hand touched her cheek, light as a down-feather yet unwavering, as his piercing eyes looked deep into her swimming ones. 'Do not be swayed by petty insults, my lady. Let your proficiency in talents not be marred by the arrogance of a dwarf-prince; you are still the finest warrior in my Guard.'

A single tear fell and shattered like a diamond upon her lap, though she smiled wetly.

'Thank you for your words of kindness, my Lord,' she said, and her voice was surprisingly steady. 'I am being foolish. I will go with Mithrandir at first light and send word of our progress as soon as I am able. I will not fail you.'

'Alámenë, Lairiel.' Elrond raised a hand in farewell.

Lairiel bowed low, first to Elrond and then to Gandalf, to whom she said, 'Til the morn', before retreating through the final rays of the setting sun into the halls of the Last Homely House.