Chapter I: An Honest Mistake

A/N: Yet another plot bunny run amok. LOTR/The Hobbit was my first fandom as a child, so a part of me is glad to finally join the fandom as a writer. Another part of me thinks I have enough stories running about. Translations for the elvish will be found at the end of the chapter. The elvish will also be bolded. I used Parf Edhellen for my elvish for the most part save once. Thanks go to Blondiezhere for her help, especially with the elvish! Anyone else who has helped, thank you as well! SSD

Any recognizable characters and recognized dialogue belong to Professor Tolkien and/or Peter Jackson.

In the middle of going through his trunk, Bilbo came across a drawing he had not seen for years. It was of the entire Company, and he smiled at the memories that had been made with that group.

Letters from Erebor were few and far between, but they were treasured.

Bilbo looked at the members who were leaning against walls in the back. The drawing had been done a bit over a month after the Battle of the Five Armies and several members of the Company had been severely injured. Ashara and Thorin had only really been on their feet under their own power for a few days before Ori had talked them all into sitting for the drawing.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the memories of the near constant bickering in the beginning with those two. Ashara had not wanted to come along on the quest, and Thorin had not wanted her along either. The she-elf and the dwarf had provided much in the way of entertainment during the trek out from Rivendell.

Bilbo became aware of Frodo entering the room. His nephew came forward and took a look at the drawing and asked, "What's an elf doing with all those dwarves? You told me that they don't usually get along."

He could not help but smirk before answering, "They usually don't. But there are exceptions to every rule."

"And was the elf and one of the dwarves in the picture the exception to the rule, uncle? How did it start?"

"Bear in mind, those two made each other's life as difficult as possible in the beginning. But it started with Gandalf finding a sword in the troll cave..."

60 years earlier...

After picking themselves up form nearly getting eaten by three trolls, the Company had quickly found the cave where the trolls had been keeping their loot.

"Oh what's that stench," Bofur asked as he started coughing.

"It's a troll horde. Be careful what you touch," Gandalf called back. He too was barely breathing so as to not deal with the stench.

As some of the other dwarves began to dig a hole to hide some of the treasure, the wizard noticed that Thorin had found some swords.

"These swords were not made by any troll," the dwarf king remarked as he handed one of them to Gandalf.

"Nor were they made by any smith among men," he replied as he took a closer look at the blade before saying, "These were forged in Gondolin, by the High Elves of the First Age."

Thorin had been about to draw the sword, but at the mention of elves, began to set the sword back on the rack he'd found it on with a glower.

Rolling his eyes a bit, Gandalf snapped, "You could not ask for a finer blade!"

Deciding that irking the wizard further was not a good idea, Thorin drew the blade with ease. As he eyed it, his reluctance over using it seemed to fade.

When the dwarves began to leave the cave, Gandalf noticed two more blades of Elvish make.

One was more a dagger for an ordinary sized person, which would serve well for Bilbo as a sword.

The other one he wasn't sure about, but Gandalf had a feeling that bringing it along would turn out to be a good idea.

After giving Bilbo his new weapon, it wasn't long before it was noticed that Gandalf had another elven sword besides the one on his hip.

"Where'd you find that one, Gandalf," Kili asked.

"Near where Bilbo's new sword was found," Gandalf replied.

The young dwarf prince asked, "Who's it for?"

"I am not quite sure just yet. In time it will likely become clear," the wizard said as he sat down on a rock for a moment.

"How can you not know," Fili asked, joining the conversation.

"This sword chooses who will wield it, I believe. Even I do not know who that will be," Gandalf said as he set the sword down next to him.

Armed with this new knowledge, the two brothers began to argue over which of them would be more likely the sword's choice. As they continued to argue, Dwalin came up and tried drawing the sword.

As Gandalf suspected, the sword would not budge, no matter what Dwalin did.

With several curses in Khuzdul, Dwalin threw the sword on the ground.

It seemed that Kili had won the argument as to which of them would try to draw the sword. And like Dwalin before him, he could not get the sword to move an inch.

"What good is a sword that can't be drawn," Kili complained as his brother took a whack at drawing it to no avail.

Before Gandalf could answer, Radagast blew in on his sled crying out, "Thieves, Fire, Murder!"

Things went to hell a short time later, with the arrival of the warg scout.

"I'll draw them off," Radagast said, determination clear in his voice.

"These are Gundabad wargs, they will outrun you," Gandalf objected.

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I'd like to see them try!"

For the moment it was an ordinary patrol hunting an orc pack.

That changed a few moments later when they heard the snarls and howls of a warg pack.

"Nuuta. What are they hunting," an elf growled.

Ashara could not help but share the sentiment.

"I think it is not so much what they are hunting but *who* they are hunting, and whoever they are will likely need our assistance. Ready your weapons," her grandfather ordered.

All this way to get run down by an orc pack, Thorin growled to himself.

Kili was making short work of the pack with his archery skills, but there were simply too many of them.

A horn blared out over the plain.

That was no orc horn. Damn elves!

Thorin looked for Gandalf in order to skewer him with a dirty look as he cut down a warg that got to close. But the wizard was suspiciously missing.

Just when things were about to get even worse, Gandalf's voice shouted out, "This way you fools!"

Everyone began sliding into the cave opening. As Thorin himself slid into the cave, and arrow grazed his shoulder.

"Thorin, are you alright," Balin asked.

"I am fine," he replied before picking up the arrow to look at it more closely. His suspicions were confirmed and growled "Elves." Thorin was far from surprised that Gandalf had managed to get his way somehow.

Taking a closer look at the arrow in his hands, Thorin noticed that there was a crimson band near the fletching. Which would likely identify the archer who had shot at him.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or not," Dwalin asked.

"We follow it of course," Bofur said as he rushed past Dwalin.

As Thorin had suspected, the thrice-blasted wizard had led them straight to Rivendell!

"This was your plan all along. To seek refuge with our enemy," he growled.

"You have no enemies here Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will found in this valley is that which you bring yourself," Gandalf shot back.

"And you think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us," Thorin countered.

"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered," the wizard reasoned.

Thorin could not argue with the wizard, who had him on that point. The map needed translating.

Gandalf continued on with, "If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me!"

Thorin could tell that the elf who came to greet them was likely not much of a soldier.

After an exchange in the elven tongue, Gandalf said, "I must speak with Lord Elrond."

"My lord Elrond is not hear," the elf replied.

No sooner had Gandalf asked, "Not here? Where is he," the sound of elf horns blared.

"Ifridi bekar! Hold ranks," Thorin ordered.

Ashara was far from surprised at the behavior of the dwarves. She doubted that nothing short of trickery on Gandalf's part would have gotten them into the Valley.

Mithrandir greeted her grandfather with "Mellon nin! Mo evindeh?"

"Faranem 'lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na lent vedui," her grandfather said as he dismounted from his horse before continuing in Westron, "Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone must have drawn them near." She could tell that the wizard's reaction was being gauged.

"Ah, that might have been us," the wizard replied sounding somewhat sheepish.

Ashara eyed the that came up to the front.

Tall for a dwarf, she observed.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," her grandfather greeted.

"I do not believe we have met," was the curt reply.

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I know Thror when he ruled under the Mountain."

"Indeed? He made no mention of you." The dwarf's contempt for elves clear.

She grinned as her grandfather made the offer for food in Sindarin when he just as easily could have used the common tongue. Their reaction was predictable.

"What is he saying? Does he offer us insult," a red bearded dwarf barked.

Exasperation clear in his voice, Gandalf snapped, "No Master Gloin he is offering you food!"

After discussing the subject for a moment, the same dwarf said, "Well in that case, lead on."

Ashara dismounted from her horse and began to lead him to the stables.

What she really wanted right now was a long, hot bath!

Thorin glanced around taking in his surroundings again. Early in it, he noticed the elf leading a black horse to what was likely the stables.

What kept his attention on this particular elf was the fact that they had a quiver of arrows with a red band near the fletching.

"I believe this arrow belongs to you," Thorin called after the elf as Kili shot it towards the elf.

Turning with preternatural speed, the elf caught it with ease.

The golden eyed elf looked at the arrow, put it back in the quiver and said with a completely straight face: "My apologies Master Dwarf. I thought you were an orc."

With that, the impertinent she-elf (she'd removed her helmet before replying) gave a slight bow and left the stables.

Thorin heard Kili cough a few times before leaving his presence. As soon as Kili thought it was safe to do so (his nephew was sorely mistaken) he began to snicker at what the she-elf had said.

Dinner seemed to be going as smooth as could with thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, a wizard, and several elves could go. The dwarves were less than pleased at the lack of meat.

"Tye auve som nelto lerte roime, haru," Ashara drawled.

"Ta i atta o met auve u vela sina mule tyel," her grandfather replied with a small grin.

Gandalf chuckled at the exchange. Thorin however appeared to be less than amused at the use of a language that he did not understand.

Ashara returned her attention back to the swords that had been apparently found in a troll horde: Orcrist and Glamdring. She'd read stories where they were mentioned.

Just when one of the younger dwarves muttered something about "green food" Gandalf all of the sudden said, "Oh silly me. I almost forgot. There was a third sword I found."

She got a good look at this new sword the wizard had produced. The wizard had likely left this one for last on purpose. One thing that obvious right away. It bore a remarkable similarity to Orcrist, save for maybe the hilt being a bit thinner.

"I suspect it was made in Gondolin as well. As for the name of the blade, I cannot give you that until I see the runes," her grandfather said, already looking over the sword.

"That's a funny thing then: I think this sword is one that chooses it's wielder," Gandalf said as he went back to his meal.

Elrond took ahold of the grip of the third sword and noted a slight hum from the blade.

He was close to what the sword wanted, but some testing still had to be done. He began with Thorin saying, "Let us see if this works for you."

Not too surprisingly, the dwarf king was unable to draw it, no matter how hard he tugged. What was interesting however, was the fact the sword moved slightly for him. This went unnoticed by most.

"Guess you're not that sword's chosen one," Ashara sassed. Thorin shot an acidic glare at her.

These two must have bumped into one another already, Elrond thought as he handed the sword for Lindir to try. He too was unable to draw the sword, much less move it.

"An elf did no better," Thorin sneered at Ashara before getting up from the table.

Ashara made to get up after that arrogant ass of a dwarf king.

"Havo dad, indyeldë," her grandfather said in a calm, but commanding voice.

She did not disobey him but was glaring at the dwarf king. The desire to give him a beating was strong. The feeling was likely mutual.

Before she could reply to her grandfather, one of the dwarves began to sing with the others joining in:

"There's an inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he saws his bow
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!' he said."

Ashara had to admit that it was a catchy tune. Though she could have lived without the food being thrown.

She eyed the still unknown blade on the table.

"Humor an old man and take a try at drawing the sword, my dear," Gandalf said. There was something of a gleam in his eyes.

Ashara flicked a glance at her grandfather who nodded his assent.

She was well aware of the eyes on her. Failure was unacceptable, but was highly likely.

Locking eyes with the insufferable dwarf king, Ashara queried as she picked up the sword from the table, "What's the likelihood that I'll actually draw this thing?"

To everyone's surprise, she yanked it out with no trouble whatsoever. The blade was stunning. And it's resemblance to Orcrist was apparent.

Not surprisingly at all, her grandfather recovered his voice first with, "As an answer to your question, I would say would say your chances are quite good. Now that I can see the runes, I can give you it's name: Lightbringer, partner sword to Orcrist, and it gives light in the darkest of places."

Translations:

Nuuta: Damn (I don't think it's Tolkien elvish, but I took what I could get.)

Mellon nin! Mo evindeh?: My friend, where have you been?

Faranem 'lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na lent vedui: We've been hunting a pack of orc that came up from the south. We slew a number near the hidden pass.

Tye auve som nelto lerte roime, haru: You might have said that they can hunt, grandfather.

Ta i atta o met auve u vela sina mule tyel: Then the two of us would have not seen this meal amusement.

Havo dad indyeldë: Sit down, granddaughter.

A/N 2: This first chapter came out relatively quickly (I'm writing this longhand then typing it up). I hope the second one comes together as fast. So...what do you all think?

May the Fourth be with you!