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"Be on your guard. There is no telling what of the orc pack still remains," Thorin advised his company as they left The Valley of Imladris and crossed into the plains.
The company of Thorin Oakenshield looked warily between themselves. They had so narrowly escaped the first attack; they could not be so fortunate a second time.
"Fíli, Kíli," Thorin called to the young dwarves.
The brothers exchanged a glance as they walked to their uncle's side.
"Scout ahead. Make sure the path is clear."
They nodded and jogged to the tree line. The two padded softly into the wood lying ahead, swords drawn at the ready. Fíli slowed their pace as they came upon the entrance of the wood. He held up his fist, Kíli stopped behind him, studying his brother for any signs of impending danger. Fíli listened for a moment before waving his brother onward.
They walked for what seemed like hours. As they crept, they happened across a trail of blood.
"Keep your eyes open, brother," Fíli warned as he proceeded.
Kíli tightened his grip on his sword as he trailed behind his brother. Tracking the trail of blood was erratic. A splotch here, a splotch there. Kíli's heart quicken, running through plausible explanations for what could be at the end of the trail. The pools of blood grew larger the further they pressed on. Broken branches soon littered the trail.
"Fíli," Kíli called to his brother. He pressed his hand against a torn tree trunk. Gouges as deep as his hands marred the tree. "This cannot be good."
Looking over his brother's shoulder, Fíli commented, "whatever made those marks must be huge. Come."
Kíli and Fíli continued their scout, picking back up the blood trail. The blood began to run closer together as they neared a small clearing in the woods. Fíli jumped back in surprise at what lay at his feet. A warg carcass hacked to bits lay strewn about the clearing. Thick black blood seeped from the wounds into the soft undergrowth.
"These cuts are from a blade," Fíli remarked as he surveyed the corpse. What could have caused such carnage, he was unsure. The cuts were expertly delivered, ensuring maximum damage with each stroke. He was taken aback by the savagery.
"The rider is over here," Kíli alerted from several feet away. "Head clean cleaved off."
Fíli once again looked over the carnage, running his hand over his beard. By Durin, what could have done this?
"Well it appears something has done our job for us," Kíli joked, nudging his brother in the ribs with his elbow.
Fíli quirked a brow. "So it seems. You did not find another body?"
Kíli shook his head. "Nothing. As far as I can see, there is no sign of anything else in the wood." His hands settled on his hips. "Should we call for the rest of the company?"
"Might as well. Though something about this is not sitting right," he breathed scanning the woods again.
"All is well, brother," Kíli grinned as he jogged back to the edge of the clearing and whistled loudly.
The brothers hiked back to the entrance of the woods and waited for the remaining eleven dwarves and hobbit as they trudged across the field.
"All clear?" Thorin asked for confirmation.
Fíli nodded as his uncle brushed past him to take the lead. The company followed silently along the path the brothers had forged. They were all wary of any danger as they trailed. Thorin stopped abruptly.
"What happened here?" Thorin rounded on his nephews as his eyes befell the scene in the clearing.
Kíli shrugged, "we found it this way."
Thorin stooped to inspect the warg. The maw of the creature laid open, stains on its teeth clearly visible. He wiped his finger across the animal's teeth and studied the sticky substance between his fingers. "This blood is not of orc," he observed as he stood. "Did you notice any signs of struggle?" Thorin asked the young dwarves, frustration tainting his tone.
"Only the animal and its rider," Fíli spoke up. "Something attacked it."
"Tore it up good," Kíli chimed in. "There are some gouges in the tree over there. Whatever did this must be a huge savage beast. We scouted further down the trail and did not see anything. It is like it vanished."
"Blood in the teeth," Thorin mused to himself.
"This warg got its licks in," Dwalin grunted. "Whatever attacked it did not come away unscathed." He gestured with his head to a small trail of blood.
The red dots meandered around the opening; the pattern closely resembling defensive footwork.
"Whatever the warg got its teeth into was injured severely, look," he continued as the dots ran closer together. A small pool of blood was found near the deceased orc. "Yet it still managed to take out the orc rider," Dwalin said in surprise. "By the looks of it, the creature should have bled out."
More blood pooled, and then in an instant, the trail ran cold. Thorin paused, stroking his beard. This made no sense. By the amount of blood found, there should be a third corpse. "But where is the body?"
A feral growl erupted behind the dwarves. They barely had enough time to turn around and face the impending wargs before branches snapping overhead drew their attention.
"Kíli!" Thorin should.
Knowing instantly, Kíli drew his bow and expertly fitted an arrow to the string. He pulled the arrow back and took aim for the trees.
The rest of the dwarves swarmed defensively as the three wargs circled.
"Steady!" Thorin commanded, brandishing his sword as the wargs charged.
At that instant, a cloaked figure swung from the tree overhead. Kíli loosed his arrow as the figure landed gracefully on the back of one of the charging wargs. The arrow struck its target with a resounding thwack. The figure did not fall; quite the opposite. With a mighty swing, the stranger beheaded the orc rider. Kicking orc from the saddle, it pulled itself into the saddle and sunk its blade deep into the neck of the beast. The warg fell dead at the feet of the company.
Two wargs remained and closed in on the group. Kíli let another arrow fly, catching the orc in the shoulder, knocking it from its mount. The cloaked stranger was quick to finish off the orc. It barely had time to raise its scimitar before the interloper, with and elegant flourish, cleaved the orc in two. Kíli stared, just what was this cloaked creature?
He did not have time to ruminate. The recently rider-less warg stalked him. He unsheathed his blade and look around quickly. The rest of his company were at arms with the remaining warg and few straggling orcs. He was on his own.
The warg growled as Kíli settled into a crouch. Before the warg could spring, again the cloaked figure intervened. Nimbly, it leapt in front of Kíli as the animal charged. The warg collided with the figure's blade, burying it deep into the beast's cavernous chest with a slunk. A carnal growl loosed from the animals throat as the stranger pulled its blade and decapitated the warg, splattering black blood in all directions.
Kíli stood there dumbfounded. Everything had moved so quickly, he was unclear what had just happened. He could handle a warg; he had done it just days prior. Just what was under the cloak? He took a moment to study the figure. Not much could be determined from the dark grey cloak. The figure was about a head taller than him, broad shoulders, a strong torso, and heavily booted feet. Kíli could not help but feel slight disdain towards the stranger; he was no damsel in distress.
"I could have taken it," Kíli harrumphed under his breath as the figure straightened its stance.
"Oi! Who's that?" Bofur called pointing at the stranger as the final orc fell victim to Dwalin's axe.
The rest of the company turned to the figure standing near Kíli. In a billow of cloaks, the stranger quickly hoisted itself into a nearby tree.
"Halt!" Thorin called with kingly authority. "I would advise you to show your face. We have archers trained on you."
From its perch, the figure looked down at the company. Its head tilted as it studied Thorin and his men. Kíli stood at the ready, arrow trained on his target. Fíli was ready with his throwing knives and Ori with his slingshot. The figured hesitated before reaching for the branch above its head.
Thorin nodded at Kíli, who without hesitation let loose his arrow. Again, it imbedded itself in the figure. That seemed to garner the stranger's attention. Aggravated, the stranger dropped to the ground.
"That is the second time you have shot me, master dwarf. So much for dwarven hospitality," the stranger spat, pulling both arrows from their arm guard. "Is that how you greet all who aid you?"
The company stood stunned. They were not expecting such a light voice from the stranger.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" Thorin commanded, advancing to hold the interloper at sword point.
The stranger dropped their hood and the company was taken aback. Standing before them was not a creature of any sort, but an elf. A fair haired, fair skinned elfmaid.
She laughed at their reaction. Turning towards the warg carcass, she pulled her sword from the beast.
"Again I ask, who are you elf?" Thorin sneered prodding the she elf with the tip of his sword.
She countered his blade, knocking it from his grasp to the ground. With the ring of blade on blade contact on the air, she flicked her blade to his throat and held him there. "Easy," she warned.
The rest of the dwarves barreled towards the elf, blades drawn ready to defend their king. They swarmed around her, cutting off any escape route. The elf glanced around, the company stared her down, their jaws set. She was woefully out numbered.
"I mean you no harm, Thorin Oakenshield," the elf assured him, lowering her blade. She took up the corner of her cloak and wiped the inky blood from her sword.
"You know of me, yet I do not know you. I will ask one final time, she elf, who are you?" Thorin roared, taking his sword from Dwalin and thrusting it once again at the elf. The dwarf locked his eyes on the elf. Who was this insolent snipe?
A smirk played on her lips as he raged.
She was nothing more than a fair faced she elf that has some skill with a blade. Surely she would not want to muss her perfectly plaited platinum hair. He had had enough insolence. Before he could make a move, she spoke.
"Aidyn," she said, sheathing her sword, "Captain of the Galadhrim, my lord," she bowed to him respectfully. "Sorry about those three," she nodded to the dead wargs, "thought we had cleared them all last night."
"We? Last night? Explain yourself, she elf!" Thorin advanced on her; she did not flinch.
Balin stayed his hands. "Thorin, that is no way to treat a lady. Let alone one who saved our sorry hides," Balin scolding whispered to the king.
"It's quite alright, master dwarf. It is only natural that a few questions arise," Aidyn assured the elder dwarf.
"Well speak!" Thorin rumbled.
"I would be far more inclined to speak were there not blades on my every side." Aidyn folded her arms across her chest.
A murmur arose from the dwarves. Could she be trusted? She had easily unhanded Thorin, she was quick. If they lowered their guard, she could take any of them. Though something about her read no threat. Minutes passed as they conferred between themselves, weighing their options. Finally, they lowered their arms and backed away behind Thorin.
"I assure you, I mean you no harm," she told them her hands in the air in non-defense. "I was tasked to aid your safe passage, not hinder it."
"Who tasked you?" Thorin immediately pressed.
"Lord Celeborn of Lóthlorien," she answered.
An elf! An eleven king no less! What interest would an elf have in the safe passage of his company? The dwarves began to mutter their concern to one another. No elf had ever offered assistance to dwarves. Those ties had been severed long ago.
"Why would your elf lord want to aid us in our task?" Thorin asked of the elf.
"You have no enemies in Lórien. Should you have called on us, we would have come to your aid. Thranduil operates on his own accord. His kin do not share his ill will."
"Why are you out here on your own, Lassie?" Balin asked her in concern.
"Ah," she laughed. "That is an interesting tale. I was dispatched from Lórien to eradicate the orc pack that attacked upon your entry to the Hidden Valley. My men and I rode from Lórien days ago."
"And where are your men now?" Dwalin grunted, not wanting a run in with more elves. One was enough.
"That remains to be seen. I suspect they left when my horse turned up rider-less," Aidyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "A loyal bunch they are."
She stole a look at the company of dwarves before her. Some looked at her with disgust; she attributed that to Thranduil's doing. Though some looked at her with interest, namely the young dwarves. Her eyes flicked to the young dark haired dwarf who had fired at her. His brown eyes stared back at her, seemingly calculating, as if he was trying to make sense of her. Surely he had seen elfmaids before; they had just left Rivendell. She gazed at him with curiosity.
He certainly did not look like a typical dwarf. Perhaps it was his lack of beard. Aidyn had never encountered a dwarf that was yet to see a hundred winters. Perhaps it was his height; he stood taller than the rest of the dwarves in his company, barely a head shorter than her. Perhaps it was his skill with a bow. Archery was not revered by dwarves as it was considered an elven trade. But yet, a dwarven archer stood before her.
Her fingers trailed down her arm guard. Two holes, side by side. She could not help but wonder if that had been his mark or if he had missed.
A self-satisfied smirk spread across his beardless face as he saw her tracing the dents in her armor. No, he was not a typical dwarf.
"What will become of you now?" Balin's inquiry redirected her attention.
"Back over the mountains," Aidyn grinned. "Home," she turned away from the dwarves and whistled. A large grey horse cantered through the underbrush to her side. The horse thrust it's muzzle under her hand, whinnying contentedly at her touch. Aidyn stroked the horse's nose appreciatively as she checked over her tack and supplies. She had no intentions of going home, though the dwarves had no need for that knowledge. Perhaps she would ride north and visit a friend near the borders of Mirkwood. Returning to Lórien was not in the stars.
"We cannot let a maid traverse the mountain pass alone," Balin told the group indignantly as he watched Aidyn tend to her horse.
"I will not have an elf travelling with us," Thorin snarled, "It is out of the question."
Dwalin and a few others nodded in agreement.
"She did us a great service. It is the least we could do for her," Balin countered. "We are going over the mountains as it is. We would not be going out of our way."
"It is not like she is helpless," Dwalin grumped. "She can handle herself. We just witnessed it."
"Yes, but if a hoard of goblins found her," Balin shuddered at the thought. He looked over his shoulder at the elf. Tiredness clouded her fair face, as did dimness. Her motions were slow and laborious as she hoisted her pack on her horse's saddle.
"She is injured," Kíli commented.
All the dwarves' eyes were on him.
"Look at how she is favoring her left shoulder," Kíli urged. "We cannot let her go on her own. It would be a death sentence."
Thorin glared at his nephew. "I did not know you harbored elven sympathies."
Kíli sighed. "The elves in Rivendell were nothing but hospitable. She said the elves of Lórien harbor no ill will. Why should we treat her with such hostility?"
"She did clear a path for us. And since she just crossed the mountain, I am sure she would know the safest path," Fíli added, backing up his brother. "If we merely accompany her, she would undoubtedly go her separate way once on the other side."
"Another warrior could not hurt," Bofur commented.
It seemed that the company was split on the decision. Some were for accompanying the elf, some were strongly set against. Displeased, Thorin eyed the elf with disdain.
"She is already dividing the company," he hissed.
"Oh come now, Thorin," Balin clapped a hand on his shoulder. "What damage could one elfmaid cause?" Balin walked over to the elf before anyone could protest. "My lady."
Aidyn turned from her horse, "yes?"
"Being that you are traveling alone, we would like to offer our services."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"
"As you have done us a great service, we would like to accompany you over the mountain to ensure your safety."
Aidyn's cheeks flushed. This she was not expecting. "I am flattered, master dwarf. It seems your king is none too fond of the idea, so I must decline. I will fair fine on my own," she smiled at him warmly as she mounted her steed. Her smile was fleetingly replaced by a grimace as her shoulder twinged. Quickly she shook off the pain. She knew the damage from the warg's teeth was deep. Her quick patching had managed to quell the bleeding but the last bout with the wargs and dwarves had opened the wound; it would need proper attention that she had not the skill to provide.
"You carry yourself as if you are injured," Balin said knowingly, "Óin is our medic. He could have you patched up in no time."
She bit her lip; she had been found out.
"Please, my lady. If any harm befell you on your journey home, I would hold myself personally responsible," Balin implored.
The dwarf was sincere, of that she could be certain. She did know the safest and quickest routes through the mountains; she could aid them further. It was only over the mountains and she could be on her separate way.
She looked to the group of dwarves still whispering between themselves. The dark haired dwarf again caught her eye, sending her a wolfish grin.
"I have two conditions," she began, pulling her eyes back to Balin. "I will only travel with you as far as the eastern side of the mountain and only if you stop with the formalities. Please call me Aidyn."
Balin grinned; he had convinced her. "Welcome Aidyn, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."