Chapter 1
Trees burned like torches, homes lay in ruin, and the dwarf city of Erebor was lost. The people of Dale stood upon a hill, to one side a once beautiful Dale and to the other, the small Lake-Town. Lord Girion, disgraced by his failure to kill the terrible Smaug, sat in silence as his people gave into hysteria.
A dark figure upon a thundering horse came upon the group, silencing them with its great horse. The people looked up in fear at the figure, wondering what sort of disaster would fall upon them now.
The figure looked out at the burned countryside and the destroyed Dale, then looked back at the group.
"You are fleeing from Dale, are you not?" The figure asked, her voice alerting them that she was a female behind her drawn cloak.
"Why would you want to know?" A distressed guard growled.
The woman removed her hood allowing them to see her pale face and dark hair. Her hair was cropped much shorter than the average woman's, her long bangs swaying in the eyes and the ends of her hair tickling her shoulders. Her kind hazel eyes looked in pity at the survivors.
"I just wanted to know if anyone had escaped the calamity," the woman replied quietly. She drew herself up, her back straight with an air of authority. "I am Aliena of the Northern Wastes. I had been checking up on the Master of Lake Town when I heard the destruction. I am here to escort you to Lake Town where you will find rest and comfort."
"What is a woman from the North doing in Dale?" Lord Girion asked, getting up from his rock.
The woman smiled cheerfully. "My business is my own my Lord, but know I mean no ill will towards you or your people."
"Your name seems familiar yet I cannot place it," Girion replied.
"You may have heard of me, but that is not important," The woman said quickly, turning her horse around. "Come we must hurry to Lake Town before nightfall, lest the dragon begins more destruction."
The woman did not speak anymore. She led them to Lake Town without incident. The Master seemed miffed by the sudden influx of people, but Girion caught the Northern woman's glare that forced the Master into doing what she asked. Later, Girion asked a local why the Master bowed to the woman's will.
"You don't know?" the local replied, baffled. "They call her the Queen of the Wastes. She came down from the North years ago and established a small colony which became this town. The Master must obey her commands or she will find someone else to keep order while she is away. Be wary though, some say she is a witch."
Girion never saw the mysterious woman again, but wondered if the tall tales he heard about her held any truth.
60 years later….
"Come on Gandalf!" A melodious voice called through the forest, as the grey wizard ran through the forest.
"If you would slow down, we could have a proper conversation!" Gandalf called back, frustration evident in his voice.
The old wizard tripped on an exposed root and almost fell on to the ground if a hand hadn't grabbed him. Gandalf steadied himself and faced the woman he had been chasing. Her dark, short pixie cut hair messed up by her run from the wizard.
The woman let out a laugh that almost seemed like a melody. "You should have told me your old bones could not handle a chase Gandalf, otherwise I would have slowed just for you!" she mocked.
The wizard glared at the woman. "You are almost as old as I am Cana, you should watch who you call old."
"At least I haven't grown lazy!" The woman, Cana, laughed, her voice carrying throughout the forest.
Gandalf shook his head as he sat down on a nearby log, Cana swinging up into a tree. She lay on the low branch, her head propped up by her arm.
"So tell me about this quest my dear Gandalf, I am dying to know your scheme to retake the Lonely Mountain," a smile unfurling on her face.