Chapter 2

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Fíli and Kíli spent a good portion of the rest of the morning speculating about Kíli's mysterious rescuer. It made Fíli uncomfortable that she had not even left them with a name. It seemed suspicious to him; but he could not argue with Kíli's assertion that whoever she was, she was brave, at the very least. Unfortunately, courage was, intrinsically, neither a good or evil trait—those with malicious intent could still be brave. Therefore, he kept a close eye out for the rest of the day, even though they were now in the Shire and, frankly, relatively safe. He had heard of bandits doing travelers a kindness before turning on them; and though Kíli scoffed at that, Fíli was not the eldest for nothing.

"She was quite pretty, though, yes?" Kíli winked at his brother.

Fíli laughed. "And out comes the real reason you don't find her suspicious," he teased, ruffling his brother's hair.

Kíli did an excellent job of pretending to be offended. "Are you implying, brother mine, that I would lower my defenses to just any pretty maiden?" He scowled.

"Perhaps not any pretty maiden," Fíli granted, "but certainly that one!"

Kíli muttered, "well, she did save my life."

He was teasing, but Fíli had to admit some truth, to both his brother's assertion of her beauty, and his sense of duty to her. She was no dwarf, that much was clear (no facial hair, and she was slightly taller than the average dwarf); but he supposed by some standards, her bright green eyes and sandy-brown locks would be considered attractive. Honestly, he didn't remember that much about what she looked like; he'd been too relieved to have Kíli back in one piece. One still-breathing piece. Hence, the sense of debt: he didn't know what he'd have done if Kíli hadn't made it to the river bank. As much as he hated the idea, he doubted he'd have been much help saving his brother, as he was actually worse at swimming than Kíli was. Doubtless, she had preserved his brother for him, and Fíli was indebted to her for it, whatever her reasons.

They stopped to lunch at the Green Dragon in Hobbiton—they weren't due at the Burglar's house until later that evening, and Gandalf was to meet them sometime during the afternoon to tell them where to go—and Kíli just couldn't let the morning's adventure go.

"Do you suppose we offended her somehow?" he looked vaguely troubled. "I did kick her rather hard."

Fíli snorted. "Only you, little brother, would kick someone in the face who was trying to rescue you. But it's possible."

"I wish she hadn't run off."

The barkeep eyed the brothers sharply at this. Fíli met his gaze squarely, and, caught, he came over to ask them, "Sirs, might I ask who this 'she' is?"

Kíli glanced at Fíli as if for permission. The older dwarf considered, and then figured it probably couldn't do any harm as they didn't even have a name to work with. "A woman, she saved my brother from drowning this morning."

The barkeep nodded. "Short, curly hair, all dressed in black? Ran off without so much as a 'you're welcome' afterward? Wielded twin daggers as long as your forearm, and frighteningly well, too?"Fíli started a bit at the last portion, but Kíli was nodding. "Well, she did say 'you're welcome', and we didn't see any weapons, but then the situation hardly called for it."

At that, a couple of patrons turned to listen. A burly hobbit with muddy brown eyes piped up, "did she have rounded ears like a Man, but the height of a Dwarf?"

Fíli nodded. "You know her?"

The barkeep chuckled. "We all know of her, though nobody knows her. She never gives a name. She seldom even lets her face be seen, usually wearing a hood and running away so fast no one can get a good look at her. But she's something of a local legend."

A Man sitting behind them stated, "'Ardly local, Friends. She been spott'd as far east a' Rhovanion."

Kíli's eyes were wide, a sure sign that he was completely engrossed in what he was hearing. Fíli almost had to laugh at it; his brother usually reserved that look for his Uncle's or Dwalin's war stories. He had to admit he was interested too, though. "But who is she?" Kíli asked.

The barkeep spoke again. "They call her Lelaenil," he said in a nearly reverent tone. "'Angel of Travelers'. Many a traveling party has she saved from orcs or bandits, and that's not even to speak of the scouting camps or hunting parties of those foul creatures that have been found burned to a crisp at her hand. I even heard tell once that she destroyed an entire orc settlement, chief and all! The woman—for everyone who's seen her agrees she's a woman—is mad; but no one can argue her deeds."

"Some say they've 'eard the orcs called her 'Mangath', tho'," the man said with a fierce grin, gray eyes glinting. "Black Speech for 'ghost'. They never know it's comin' til they're dead."

"How does she do it?" Fíli inquired, wondering how one small woman could defeat so many.

"She's somethin' of a rogue," the man answered. "Sneaks up from behind, attacks 'em from afar wit' arrows and throwin' daggers, under cover of night prob'ly, sets traps; travelers say she's a master at disappearin' and inflictin', shall we say, less-than-chivalrous damage." He shrugged. "O' course, she's dealin' wit'them what have no honor, so I see nothin' wrong wit' her underhanded methods."

Fíli had to admit he was impressed. Though he knew how rumors could blow a thing out of proportion, so maybe the girl wasn't all that they said. Still, legends had their root in fact, and he had witnessed her willingness to help strangers himself not six hours ago; it was fascinating to hear someone like that existed. He had thought the roads were only patrolled by the Rangers, and loosely at that; but clearly this woman was not human, so she couldn't be one of them.

Kíli sat back, raising his eyebrows at his brother as the patrons went back to their meals and conversations. "Sounds like we owe a debt to a phantom, Brother." Fíli laughed and dug into his stew.


Across the room, the young woman in question smiled into her mug, unbeknownst to the inn's other occupants. Green eyes flashed in amusement at their stories—she'd certainly never taken on an orc settlement, much less by herself—but the rest was mostly true. She wasn't skilled enough, nor physically strong enough, to stand alone face-to-face with the orcs and bandits she terrorized, this she knew. At least not in the numbers they traveled in. But she was light on her feet, quiet and small enough to utilize shadow and darkness to protect herself. She had good aim, and knew how to use her blades. So she played to her strengths, and did her best to inflict as much damage—and fear—on her enemies as she could.

After changing out of her all-black traveling clothes into something less distinctive—tan leggings under a rust-red tunic, leather belt and boots, and dark blue cloak over it all—and releasing her hair from the tight braids and knots she customarily wore to keep it out of her way while on the road, Deorynn had headed to the Green Dragon for food. There was no better place in Hobbiton for a decent meal, and the company was always cheerful and sometimes boisterous. Noticing the brothers there had given her a moment's fright, but she relaxed quickly. With her curls softly framing her face, a decorated band covering the scrapes high on her forehead and cosmetic paint hiding her bruised cheek, different clothes, and her weapons (most of them, anyhow) safely locked away in the chest she'd rented at the town vault for a few hours; she felt confident the young men would not recognize her even if they did happen to look her way.

Still, she was careful to sit out of their immediate field of vision. Just to be safe.

She couldn't help the smile that spread over her face as she watched the brothers. They were certainly closer than most, she could see it in how they interacted, and it made her heart glad to see them both well and happy. Not for the first time, her heart throbbed at the sense of being an outsider looking in on something precious; observing, rather than taking part in, the joy she saw.

She allowed herself a few minutes to brood on it as she accepted her roast from the serving maiden gratefully.

She had always been something of an outcast, because of her parentage, shunned if not completely rejected. As a young girl, she had done anything she could think of for acceptance; from endless kindnesses that were never returned to a hugely disproportionate ego that she used to try and bluster her way to some respect. None of it ever worked; and even her own mother, while she loved her, was acutely aware of Deorynn's differences…shortcomings, she called them…and pushed relentlessly to make the girl fit the mold of a normal dwarf lass. It had all wreaked havoc on her already-waning confidence until, by the time her mother married when Deorynn was nineteen summers old, she was completely silent and passive about life in general.

Looking back, Deorynn knew how bad a response that had been, to totally check out and just go through the motions of life, but it really had afforded her an opportunity to observe the world around her and learn how it worked. She discovered how people interacted with one another; learned about greed, selfishness, deceit, and jealousy; observed kindness and goodness being exploited as weaknesses; and came to the conclusion that caution was better than openness. Warring in her spirit though, caused by some quirk in the way she was wired, doubtless, was a spark of hope that refused to die and made her see the beauty and joy in the world around her; the way a child's face lit up around its parents, the way a brother would give anything for his sister, or even something as simple as a sunrise.

Then her mother had announced she was with child.

Deorynn had been thrilled; twenty years was not so large a gap between siblings, not for dwarves, and she couldn't wait to show her brother or sister everything about the world. Perhaps now she would have a companion who loved her for who she was! Talos had been born in the winter of Deorynn's twenty-first year. He was a tiny baby, so helpless, and he held her heart completely from the moment she saw him. She gave of herself more freely to him than she had to anyone, ever; and in return, as he grew, Talos gave her his love, unconditional and absolute. He wasn't yet old enough to realize she was different, that she deserved to be scoffed and cast out, when he died. In her darker moments, Deorynn was almost grateful, for she likely would have been entirely lost if Talos had ever rejected her.

The years had taught Deorynn several things, though, not the least of which was that love and companionship were not meant for her. They were others' to enjoy, hers to protect. Over time, she had gone from merely accepting the fact, to embracing it. She found joy of her own in preserving life, reuniting families after a close call, and she even relished being on her own, able to go and do as she pleased. And mornings like this one, she glanced at the dwarves one more time, served to remind her why exactly she did what she did.

With a smile, she placed her mug and her money on the table, and slipped out. She had business to attend to, and if she hurried, she could still make Woodhall by dark.


Gandalf appeared less than an hour later and gave Fíli and Kíli directions to the Burglar's home—a Mr. Baggins of Bag-End. They did ask him if he'd heard of Lelaenil, to which he replied that he'd heard of her but never had the pleasure of meeting her. She was a fairly recent phenomenon, for in the life of a wizard, the ten years she'd been guarding the roads and patrolling the wilds was but the blink of an eye. Gandalf smiled, then left the brothers to tend to some business of his own.

Fíli and Kíli whiled away the afternoon hours by replacing any waterlogged supplies that had been destroyed (mostly perishable foodstuffs), and drying things out in a field while they relaxed in the long grass and told stories. It had been really far too long since they'd had any time to just be together, Fíli found himself thinking wistfully.

"Hey Kee," he grinned, curling up to rest on his elbows where he lay. Kíli looked at him over the blades of grass he was braiding idly. "Mmm?"

"Do you remember the time we were playing in the woods and we found that old hollowed-out tree stump that was so big we could actually sit in it?"

Kíli grinned widely. "And we called it The Halls of Kifili?"

They both laughed long and loud about that, until Fíli sobered a bit. "Yes, that's the one. Do you remember what I wrote for you and gave to you in our hallowed halls?" Lips twitching in mild amusement, Kíli nevertheless understood what Fíli was getting at. "I remember, Brother. I memorized it and have never thrown it away." Lying back, next to his brother, Kíli began to recite in a reverent, hushed voice:

My brother, my friend, my companion, my heart.

We walk the world together, our times overlapping;

Though darkness chase us and evil close in,

I'll never leave you, my Brother.

We stand by one another, facing the world without hesitation;

Though enemies try to drive us apart and sometimes even we fight,

I'll never abandon you, my Friend.

We share our joys, our sorrows, our fears;

Though sadness weigh us down and our fears take very real form,

I'll never forsake you, my Companion.

We are one spirit in two bodies;

Though Melkor himself take us, through every trial life throws our way,

I'll never betray you, my Heart.

Tears prickled at the back of Fíli's eyes when he finished, and he was again reminded why he wrote it as his brother squeezed his forearm. "Fee, I'm no good with words like that; but you know I feel the same way, right?" Fíli sat up, Kíli following his example, and he placed a hand on either side of his brother's dark head and pulled their foreheads together. He did his best to stave off the emotional display he felt lurking in the lump in his throat, but he managed to whisper to his brother, his constant companion, his best friend, the other half of his soul, "Yes, Kee. I know."

They sat like that for a long moment, before Kíli opened his eyes and the corner of his mouth quirked in a way that told Fíli he was about to say something mischievous.

He did.

"Good," he stated matter-of-factly. "Because if I ever betray you, may faeries pull out all my toenails and bats make their permanent home in my hair."

Fíli burst out laughing at the old oath they used as very young children, when Kíli was terrified of the mythical faeries, and Fíli's worst fear was bats in his hair (a fear borne of a childhood adventure they seldom spoke of).

When the hour came for them to meet the others, it was with a sense of anticipation they readied the dried-out supplies. Many of the dwarves accompanying them had been friends for as long as the boys remembered, and they were quite looking forward to their grand adventure of taking back their homeland. Fíli thought sometimes that he understood what was at stake and what they were undertaking better than Kíli did; but even he couldn't deny the anticipation of the quest. He was eager to prove himself, not only to his uncle, but to the world. He knew that regardless of the outcome, this quest would be written about, sung about, talked about throughout Middle Earth for years to come.

He was determined his part in it would be an honorable one.

The trip to Bag-End was a short one, and Fíli couldn't help but marvel at how peaceful and quaint this country was. To be honest, he wondered how any being capable of making the journey they were about to make could come from here; this gentle, quiet place. He trusted Gandalf, but he was truly having a couple of doubts. Although,Kíli would tell him to keep an open mind, and he would do his best, of course. He was certain the Burglar would be a pleasant person, at least; but that didn't necessarily mean he could survive in the wild.

An idea occurred to him, and he turned to his brother. "Kíli?"

"Yes?"

"I'm worried about this Burglar. Have you noticed the kind of folk from around here are…"

"….not exactly the adventuring type?"

"Precisely."

"Yes, I've noticed. But we have to trust Gandalf—he's wiser than either of us, you know."

Fílinodded shortly, a silent agreement. "True, but…why don't you and I make a pact?"

Kíli stopped and faced his brother. "A pact?"

"Yes," Fíli nodded. "A pact to protect our burglar, especially if he's not accustomed to the wilderness."

A slow smile spread over Kíli's face; the genuine, warm one that he reserved for Fíli when he really impressed him. Slinging an arm over his older brother's shoulders, he squeezed. "Consider it done. Fee?"

"Yes?"

"I want to be just like you when I grow up."

Grinning, he knocked on the round green door.


A/N: First of all, can I just say: you all are awesome. I love you guys. Thank you for reading my wild imaginings. Secondly, the Durin family feels are absolutely slaying me lately, so I hope it's not too fluffy for you, but honestly, I couldn't resist. Third, many thanks to OrisounAsh (who's story, The Longsword and the Bow, you should go read. Seriously, go read it!) for encouraging me to give this story a shot, or else it'd still be percolating in my brain and driving me mad. Did you catch my shout-out to you, mellonin?

Thanks for reading, guys!