Author's Note: I own nothing except original character.
Naethri was gathering her thoughts on what to do next while she mechanically twined flowers between her fingers, braiding a crown. She'd hid herself as best she could in the endless plains, her figure shielded from the sight of travellers by some of the random rocks and boulders scattered around. Her precaution could seem rather unnecessary considering how rare it was to stumble upon travellers in that area but Naethri had grown to be cautious and to always be wary of the unexpected. Along the years she made sure survival was her greatest art. She had concluded her solitary banquet and quickly put out the fire she'd lit to cook it , after all it was merely midday, the sun shone fiercely and spread its warmth on the plains. She was far too close to the lands of the elves and she was not very fond of the creatures, their highly developed senses made them hard for her to either elude or trick. On the other hand she could not go back the way she came from. Once again the race of men had turned its back on her and she was shunned, exiled from another city. She forced herself not to give into anger at the thought of her misadventure, she had learned to suppress anger, she had to be free from its restraints. She closed her eyes and leaned against the uneven rock . Her efforts to meditate the anger away were disturbed by the sounds of an approaching party from afar. Confident of her hideout she concentrated on the sounds, planning to examine the travellers only once they'd passed her. For an instant she considered they might find her cluster of rocks an appealing spot for a rest. If that turned out to be the case there was not much for her to do, so she simply waited for the events to unfold, she'd figure out what to do when the time came.
The approaching company was unusually noisy. Their steps heavy and slow, their weapons clattering loudly, voices deep and rough but still too far for Naethri to hear anything of what they spoke. Those could not be elves, so the only possible guess was for them to be dwarves. They headed west and Naethri assumed they were coming from the north, the Grey Mountains most likely, Ered Mithrin. But why were they on the road that led to the Misty Mountains? Under those mountains she knew of a goblin town, but perhaps they travelled to Khazad-dum. As the noisy group got closer to her hiding spot their voices became clearer although still rouged and coarse. They spoke in a harsh language that Naethri could not understand. Quietly she rose to a crouching position and manoeuvred herself behind her rock in order to carefully peak. It was indeed a small party of dwarves, short, gruff and heavy on their feet, further hindered by the heavy clothes they wore and their axes. How odd it was to cross paths with dwarves in open fields. They kept to themselves most of the time, hiding in the depths of mountains, digging for gold, silver and gems. Gold, silver and gems. Maybe they were a party of merchants, perhaps traders. In any case they were bound to have valuables with them. If she managed to get a hold of something valuable enough she might be able to go east, across the elven realm of Mirkwood and to the towns of Dale or Laketown. Or better yet move west towards Bree. She had never been west. She may not have had a precise plan, but she was drawn to the dwellings of fellow men. She placed the flower crown, momentarily abandoned, on her head and decided to wait for the dwarves to be far enough, so she would pass unnoticed when she began tracking them down, following them, waiting for a chance to make a stealthy move.
For days Naethri carefully followed the dwarves form a considerable distance, getting closer at night, studying her prey. The yellow and green plains were scattered with rocks that lay about like dark freckles on the earth. Far east she had lost sight of the river Anduin, but on the west the cloudy tops of the Misty Mountains could be seen, grim and stern. Naethri was not particularly enthusiast of being caught between the elven woodland kingdom and the perilous mountains. To make it less safe for her, rumour had it that a gigantic bear-man wondered these lands, which made her uneasy. Truth be told thieving was not her favourite pursuit but she'd been roaming the west aimlessly for a long time so the prospect of gathering some wealth, enough to avoid wandering the wilderness for a time, was somewhat restoring in itself. It meant she would be able to seek the comfort of a warm bath in the privacy of a room, in an inn where she could pay a few coins to be delivered a hot meal she did not have to hunt or cook, the luxury of ale. It would only suffice for a short time but she would move on her path afterwards as she always did.
As the days passed Naethri grew bolder in her pursuit of the dwarves, getting closer and closer in the dark, giving them space in the day. She was much faster than them so she had no problems to catch up with them in the evening and this also gave her extra time to rest in the morning. The more confident she was the closer she got to them and she was also deeply troubled when she started to notice they travelled remarkably light. Their clothes looked very plain, although she noticed they wore several layers, among which heavy chain mails, she could not distinguish much more in the pale light of their campfire. They did not seem rich at all. Then again she knew very little of dwarven fashion, yet she came to believe these dwarves carried nothing of value with them. The seed of doubt was thus planted in her mind.
The dwarves travelled slowly, too slow in fact to Naethri's taste, for she was used to travel alone, and she moved light and fast. Two weeks had passed since she first saw them west of the Anduin and it took them several days more to reach the feet of the Misty Mountains. Still Naethri's mind was pestered with thoughts of uncertainty. Was it truly worth her while to follow these dwarves just to steal a meagre amount of riches? Did they have any at all? They didn't look particularly wealthy to her. On the other hand she had nowhere to be, nowhere to go in fact. She had no plan at all, nowhere to return to, nothing better to do. So if they had nothing of value with them now it didn't mean much. They were dwarves: they were probably also merchants, maybe that's why they were going to the Misty Mountains. Wasn't there a dwarvish kingdom beneath these mountains? Moria. The mines of Moria struck a chord in her mind. She'd heard something about them but she could not recall.
Walking beneath the silvery glow of the stars at a reasonable distance behind the dwarves she looked at the dark mountains ahead. Doubt strung her again. To follow the dwarves through the mountains was going to be a tiring task and the reward was not certain. Besides, if she waited at the foot of the mountains long enough, once the dwarves were headed back east with their goods, she could sneak up on them in the plains and take what she needed, without having to make the unnecessary effort of climbing up the mountains. Then again they may be going further west. Rivendell was on the other side of the mountains and many more dwellings of men. There was little interaction between elves and dwarves, it was well known, but there had always been trading. Or she could be wrong again and they were actually returning to their home in the Misty Mountains and if that was the case she'd have nothing to gain from following them.
The more her doubt grew the more distance she put between herself and the dwarves' party. On the morrow the dwarves were clearing their camp and, slowly as ever, made their way towards the High Pass, somewhat confirming Naethri's theory that they were likely heading for Rivendell since the elves had built their shelter right at the end of the Pass. She watched them from behind the rocks and bushes and, according to her routine, let them gain some distance before following them. In her wait she spotted a bush of irises not far from her, so she knelt down next to it. She delved her hand in the violet soft cloud the petals formed, silky under her touch, bothered by the fact that their stalk was too hard for her to twist and twine in a crown. Soon though her thoughts ran back to the mountains under whose shadow she sat. The dwarves faced a perilous trek, for it was well known that goblins infested the Misty Mountains and there was talk of orc treading this area.
With a heavy sigh she lifted her head to stare at the shadowy peaks. With a breath of the crispy autumn breeze her thoughts were carried back to darker times, and daunting memories danced behind her eyes, now unfocused. Again she heard, clear as if it was truly happening, the roars of the orcs, their evil snickering, she recalled the repulsive feeling of their slimy and coarse fingers on her arms, the intolerable pain that always followed. But Naethri was looking at the irises once more and forced her consciousness back to reality. There was no use in lingering, she'd killed orcs before. If it proved profitless to follow the dwarves through the High Pass she would lead on and eventually reach Bree. Naethri plucked the flower she liked best, cut off part of the stem with her knife and tucked it in her hair. The dwarves had already disappeared between the rocks so she collected her things back in her pack, slipped her doublet on and fastened the sword belt around her waist, above an old scarf she kept tied around her hips. While she climbed through the Pass echoes of the dwarves conversing and of the clattering axes reached her, guiding her through the rocks.
Sleeping on the mountains was a treacherous business. Not always was it possible to find hollows where to take shelter, especially as Naethri was making sure she didn't get to close to the party; neither could she go back, it was never a good idea to go back when pursuing a prey. Quickly both night and day became hard to endure: the higher the travellers climbed the more brittle and slippery the Pass became, until the mountains raged against them with all their might, cold rain pouring down almost incessantly, the hours of light and those of darkness undistinguishable due to the clouds hanging overhead, looking so thick and close yet unreachable, the foggy atmosphere enlightened only by loud thunders and blinding lightning . For days Naethri was soaked to the bone, her sore feet slipping on the rocks, her eyes contoured by dark shadows out of lack of sleep, almost impossible under the constant shower and very light even when sheltered. Often she thought of legends and myths, of mountains taking life and moving or throwing rocks all around. The most dangerous part of the Pass was yet to come, when the path shrivelled against the mountain, so narrow a man would have to keep himself securely pressed against the rock in order not to fall down the ravine. This part of the journey would likely prove hardest to the company of dwarves, broader and heavier than Naethri; to rest was out of the question at this point.
The food supplies she had were shortening within the week but Naethri drew a sigh of relief when the hardest part of the hike was over and a little at the time they descended in altitude. The landscape increased in colour, the grass again growing on the ground, the rocks no longer covering every inch of the earth but more sparsely scattered. But the autumn weather was altering the environment, and the colour most prominent on the ground and on the rare trees was yellow, the leaves drying and falling, only the bravest and strongest of flowers blooming occasionally here and there. With no flower to entwine Naethri took up a blond leaf from the ground to tuck among her auburn hair, collected in an elegant bun out of her face, save for a few lose strands.
On the open ground she took her time tailing the dwarves, tracing them from the tracks they left behind, to make sure they wouldn't spot her here on the open plain. But a plain it was not because they were still up in the mountains, descending towards the moorlands. It was a matter of days before they'd be able to see the Bruinen rushing southward through Eregion. Whether the dwarves were headed for Moria or Cordolan they were bound to get closer to the river. Once they were on top of the gorge from which the Bruinen began they kept their descent straight towards the elven refuge of Rivendell. If they were to terminate their journey in Rivendell Naethri would have to tread carefully for the elves kept their lands well protected and it was harder to sneak past them when compared with the dwarves and menfolk. Although she did not fear them, for the elves were unlikely to harm a lone female traveller, she was tentative towards them, after all she was still planning to steal anything that may be of use to her and it mattered not who she stole it form.
As the dwarves made their way down the mountain towards Rivendell Naethri lingered on the cliffs, at this point she ran no risk of losing them. So she took her time to rest, prepare herself a meal, mostly she revelled in the peace the place radiated. The Bruinen launched itself vehemently in the valley, but the crashing sound of the water was soothing. From atop the mounts she saw it sparkle and reflect the cold rays of the October sun like a handful of glittering jewels would. In the valley lay the Last Homely House East of the Sea, surrounded by trees of golden leaves swaying in the brisky breeze and gently falling on the roofs of the settlements and the gazeboes and the patioes open to welcome the ember light.