Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings. They belong to their creators. I do own my OC and I might introduce more later on.
Authors Note: I am new to writing. I have wrote stories before but I have never published any so there might be mistakes. Either way I hope read to enjoy, if nothing. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to leave your comments. It will not be a romance story!
Summary: Takes place during The Hobbit and will carry on to The Lord of the Rings. This story will follow the films, with a little of the book. Anya a Ranger of the North Decides to aid the Dwarves in reclaiming their homeland. What will happen when the truth about Anya gets out and it might lead her to more danger.
My dear Frodo:
You asked me once... if I had told you everything there was to know about my adventures.
And while I can honestly say I have told you the truth... I may not have told you all of it.
I am old now, Frodo.
I'm not the same Hobbit I once was. I think it is time for you to know... what really happened.
It began long ago...in a land far to the east... the like of which you will not find in the word today.
There was the city of Dale. Its markets known far and wide. Full of the bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful and prosperous. For this city lay between the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth: Erebor.
Stronghold of Thror, King under the mountain. Mightiest of the Dwarf Lords.
Thror ruled with utter surety...never doubting his house would endure... for his line lay secure in the lives of his son... and grandson.
Ah, Frodo. Erebor.
Built deep within the mountain itself...the beauty of this fortress city was legend. Its wealth lay in the earth... in precious gems hewn from rock...and in great seams of gold...running like rivers through stone.
The skill of Dwarves was unequalled... fashioning objects of great beauty...out of diamond, emerald, ruby and sapphire.
Ever they delved deeper, down into the dark. And that is when they found it. The Heart of the Mountain. The Arkenstone.
Thror named it "The Kings Jewel." He took it as a sign, a sign that his right to rule was divine.
All would pay homage to him. Even the great Elven King Thranduil.
But the years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly the days turned sour... and it the watchful nights closed in. Thror's love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him. It was the sickness of the mind.
And where sickness thrives... bad things will follow. The first they heard was a noise like hurricane... coming from the North. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in the hot dry wind.
He was a firedrake from the North. Smaug had come.
Such wanton death was dealt that day. For this city of Men was nothing to Smaug. His eye was set on another prize. For dragons covet gold with a dark and fierce desire.
Erebor was lost. For a dragon will guard his plunder... as long as he lives.
Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the Elves that day... of any day since.
Robbed of their homeland... the Dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness... a once mighty people brought low.
The young Dwarf prince took work where he could find it... laboring in the villages of Men. But always he remembered... the mountain smoke beneath the moon...the trees like torches blazing bright. For he had seen dragon fire in the sky... and a city turned to ash. And he never forgave and he never forgot.
That, my dear Frodo, is where I come in.
for quite by chance, and the will of a Wizard... fate decided I would become part of this tale.
It began...well, it began as you might expect. In a hole in the ground... there lived a Hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole full of worms and oozy smells.
This was a Hobbit hole. And that means good food, a warm hearth... and all the comforts of home.
"Thank you"
"what's this?" Frodo asked picking two pictures; one showed a younger version of his uncle. Though the other picture showed a young woman.
"That's private. Keep your sticky paws off." Bilbo said taking the pictures back.
Looking at the picture that showed the young woman. Frodo watched his uncle, as his eyes holding a far away look remembering the past with a small sad smile. He hadn't saw or heard from her in years, not since they had helped claim the Lonely Mountain. He held hope that his friend was still alive, wandering the wilds, aiding the free people. Living out her Ranger name: Shadow. For that was what she could be when she chose, but he knew her life was one enemies hunted.
"who is she?" Frodo asked looking back at the picture, snapping his uncle out of the memories "my dear lad, I have told you about her in the stories of the quest to reclaim Erebor" causing the younger Hobbit eyes to flash with recognition "you never did tell of her name always the the Lady Ranger or Shadow" he said as he looked at the book.
"it's not ready yet" he said closing the book
"ready for what?"
"reading"
"what an earth are these?" he asked flicking through
"Replies to the party invitations."
"Ah. Good gracious. Is it today?" he spoke standing up a bright excited smile.
"They all say they're coming."
"Except for the Sackville-Bagginses, who are demanding you ask them in person."
"Are they, indeed? Over my dead body."
"They'd probably find that quite agreeable." Frodo spoke with a cheeky smile "They seem to think you have tunnels...overflowing with gold."
"It was one small chest, hardly overflowing."
"And it still smells of Troll."
"What on earth are you doing?" he watched, Bilbo hide objects in several places.
"Taking precautions."
"You know, I caught her making off with the silverware once"
"Who?"
"Lobelia Sackville-Baggins."
"She had all my spoons stuffed in her pocket. Ha! Dreadful woman."
"Make sure you keep an eye on her after I'm...when I'm... when I'm..."
"When you're what?"
"It's nothing. Nothing"
"You know, some people are beginning to wonder about you, Uncle."
"Huh?"
"They think you're becoming odd."
"Odd? Oh. Hm."
"Unsociable."
"Unsociable, me? Nonsense. Be a good lad and put that on the gate."
"Do you think he'll come?"
"Who?"
"Gandalf."
"Oh-ho. He wouldn't miss a chance to let off his Whizpoppers. He'll give us quite a show, you'll see"
"Right, then. I'm off."
"Off to where?"
"East-farthing Woods. I'm going to surprise him."
"Well, go on, then. You don't want to be late. He doesn't approve of being late. Oh, no. Not that I ever was. In those days, I was always on time. I was entirely respectable. And nothing unexpected... ever happened."