I don't own LOTR. I own my OC.
Chapter 3: A New Unexpected Journey
Long before the coming of the Istari, during a time of beginnings, the Valar wove life through their songs.
Their beloved Eru Illuvitar had given them the blessings of free will, and with it they sought to sing a harmony of creation as one choir.
It was a blessing most of them never thought to abuse for the love they had for their divine sire was great. Many of the Maiar followed suit, obedient but free to exist in whichever form they chose, they remained undyingly loyal in serving their noble brethren.
In hopes and intentions to honor the Valar and Eru Illuvitar, a few Maiar combined their artistry and began to change themselves, determined to shift into creatures that embodied the might of nature.
From their vision, creatures of great, wild beauty were born: the dragons.
The scaled beings of old were proud, intelligent, and fearsome beings that took little interest in the matters of Middle Earth. They reigned in nature, connected to the woven world through ancient magic even they could not fully comprehend. They took to the earthen realms deep in the forests and mountains, to the skies where their freedom went beyond the horizon, to the flames that nurtured both life and death in its heated passion. Some took to the seas, deep in the watery abyss to become a part of sailor tales. There were some that roamed even the realms of perpetual ice and snow in the far North.
Clans of each realm and element began to form in time.
Eventually, there came a clan that conquered the sky and everything in it.
The Dragons of the Storm… they were the greatest of drakes ever to take flight.
A marvel amongst their scaly kin, they were rumored to wield the tempest as their own, born by lightning rather than fire. With unrivaled aerial talents, they were a clan of dragons seen as nobility amongst their scaled kin.
They dwelled within the highest peaks of Arda upon a sacred place known as the Eyrie, a place where the stars could kiss outstretched hands.
Yet, this place that was revered to be the ground of heavens soon became Hell.
In the aftermath of the wars between brotherhoods and kin, the Eyrie was destroyed in storm of blood and ash. As the haunting calamity became a grim part of draconian history, the Eyrie was given a new name by the surviving dragon-kind. The Ristvak'baen, the Place of Great Sorrow. It was a grave reminder of the wrath and ruin brought by Morgoth's malice.
~O~O~O~O~O~
Foul black clouds poisoned the sky. Thunder clapped and storms clouds of noxious smoke brewed above the lands of Sauron's domain. The sudden violent turn of volcanic activity in Mount Doom was like a heartbeat quickening in excitement.
Not far from the hellish dungeons of Barad-dur, a fortress of death and darkness began to stir. Every rock and grain of dirt screamed of blood chilling evil in Minas Morgul. The toxic green light illuminating the citadel of dark sorcery foretold the foul demons lurking within its behemoth walls.
The gates groaned like miserable souls.
As they opened, nine black riders were unleashed from the jaws of their entrance. Tall, terrifying, and cloaked in shadow and death, the nine forced their black steeds to move fast and relentlessly.
Their master has brought upon a task, and as the dark lord's faithful servants, they shall see that the task is fulfilled, even if they must pave a way in blood to fulfill it.
~O~O~O~O~O~
The Hobbits were as festive and fun as always as they delved in their entertainment. Elysia listened in silent content as Merry and Pippin sang and danced on top of a table in the Green Dragon with Frodo merrily prancing around them. Despite his beloved uncle's sudden departure, Frodo reveled in becoming an official adult and the master of Bag End. Elysia smiled as Frodo relished the newfound freedom. An adult Frodo may be considered, but to Elysia he was still her little one.
The older Hobbits smoked their pipe weed and complained of the strange folk crossing the Shire. Elysia smiled. As the years passed, the hobbits have adjusted to having her—a strange outsider herself—residing in Hobbiton, but some things just never changed with the Halflings.
They complained of dwarves passing by and more unpleasant creatures sighted in the mountains, no doubt goblins.
At the mentions of goblins and war, Elysia scowled. So, even the hobbits were noticing the growing shadow in Middle Earth. Elysia was tempted to take a short trip to those rumored mountains infested with goblins. They were too near to the Shire for her liking; she would investigate and most probably commit a goblin massacre if the numbers were in her favor.
As Frodo came and cheerfully offered ale to the table where the gossip brewed, the smoking hobbits then spotted Elysia with her own tankard of ale. She sat in her usual cool mode, legs crossed and back against the table in lazy grace, silent as a statue. The flame light of the candles and fireplace made her stormy eyes glitter with a cryptic edge while the lidded manner in which she stared vacantly made the squirm in minor unease. Perhaps she felt offended at hearing them talk of strange folk so disdainfully.
"Er… I mean… Not all outsiders are trouble…" One hobbit quickly retracted his previous words.
Frodo noticed them glance uneasily at Elysia's lonesome figure and chuckled. Elysia's silvered gaze whipped to them, but her head remained unmoving. A hobbit even flinched a little, but Sam and Frodo knew better. It was just Elysia's nature to seem so… unapproachable. But time and time again, Elysia had proven to them to be rather harmless… at least when they were on her better side.
Frodo's smile did not waver as he lifted his tankard and gestured to Elysia. The female dragon smirked and raised her tankard slightly before she drained it. Frodo turned back to the hobbits and rolled his eyes.
"Oh come now, Elysia is no outsider at this point. She resided in Bag End before I was born."
"Her company is more peaceful than Gandalf's at least. You don't hear her off meddling and creating havoc and odd stories. Although, she still makes the hairs on my feet stand on end sometimes." Another muttered.
Frodo fought the urge to giggle and merely nodded, drinking his ale. If only they knew of the adventures Elysia went through.
Elysia slowed her pace as she walked with Sam and Frodo in the night. Frodo comforted Sam and attempted to boost his confidence to court Rosie Cotton. Elysia smirked at their conversation. She grew fond of Frodo's gardener enough to consent in Frodo's request to give the Loivissa to Sam. The gardener would appreciate the Loivissa's one of a kind beauty.
Unsurprisingly, in order to keep a stout place in Rosie's heart, Sam presented the flower to Rosie as a courting gift, delighting the woman and putting him in her favor against his many competitors for her hand.
Samwise Gamgee had always admired Elysia, though not romantically for his heart belonged to the barmaid of the Green Dragon. His admiration was akin to great respect and curiosity. She could be so secretive at times, but she was generous. And because of her generosity, he managed to bring a lovely extra sparkle in Rosie Cotton's mesmerizing eyes.
They parted ways as the path to Bag End began to near. Sam bid them good night and a little tipsy he stumbled and walked unevenly on his hairy fit.
A warm hand suddenly gripped Frodo's shoulder. Elysia bent low near his ear and whispered.
"Stay close to me, little one. We have an uninvited guest."
The hobbit frowned and obeyed. Who would barge into Bag End? Hard to believe anyone in the Shire would have the audacity to break in.
As though Elysia read his mind, she spoke lowly. "It's no local from the shire."
They opened the round green door of the Baggins estate and Elysia took a few sniffs. There was the slightest scent of a horse, some dirt, and most prominently sweat and anxiety, and….
Ah… She recognized this scent anywhere and stopped in her tracks. Frodo looked around the house in nervous wonder. The window was open and a loose breeze caused loose papers to float free before falling to the floor eerily.
"Elly, who-" Frodo released a gasp as a hand smacked down hard on his shoulder and spun him around. Elysia didn't bother to turn but she spoke with a sharp edge.
"Mithrandir… What is it?" Something has greatly unnerved the Istari, not an easy feat.
Gandalf did not answer, instead he responded with a question aimed at Frodo. "Is it secret? Is it safe?"
He looked tired and old—older than usual—as sweat beaded his forehead and matted his gray hairs to his face.
Gandalf remained on high alert as Frodo shuffled through the trunk. Elysia walked to the fireplace and tossed some firewood into the hearth. Without bothering to grab the tinderbox, she simply stretched her neck, inhaled with a small hiss, and spat or "fire spat" as Frodo and Bilbo liked to call it. A small bullet of fiery white blue struck the wood and ignited a warm flame that spread within a few heartbeats. Soon the fire was roaring and warming the cold room.
Frodo yanked out the envelope from the trunk, and without hesitation the wizard snatched it. Frodo voiced his surprise as Gandalf tossed it into the fire.
"What are you doing?" He demanded, startled by the wizard's brusque behavior.
Elysia spotted the golden gleam of the finger accessory as the paper unfurled in the flame. The ring's gleam was admirable, but something about it made Elysia's skin rise with gooseflesh.
With a pair of tongs, Gandalf plucked the gold band.
"Hold out your hand, Frodo… It's quite cool."
As soon as the ring landed in the hobbit's palm, Elysia twitched involuntarily.
Mithrandir's next question perplexed her.
"What can you see?"
A small frown escaped her usually stoic features. What else was there to see but gold? Was there something that they were supposed to see or something only Frodo was supposed to see?
"Can you see anything?" Gandalf pressed as he turned away and put his hands on his hips, wary and deep in thought.
After a lapse of heavy silence, Frodo could only shrug as he rotated the ring with his fingers.
"… Nothing… There's nothing." Frodo was confused. What was Gandalf having him look for?
The gray wizard's tension began to loosen. Elysia's frown widened and her brow quirked, casting the old Istari a questioning glare. He was acting odder than usual, what had him so rattled?
"Wait."
Frodo's voice made the two old beings freeze. Elysia's ear twitched and her head gave a slight jerk. There were eerie whispers echoed around them again.
Gandalf felt dread boil in his gut.
"There are… markings." Frodo frowned at the flame lit foreign calligraphy unveiled from the golden surface. "It's some form of elvish… I can't read it."
Elysia turned and gazed at Frodo. The whispers began to hush, as though they knew she had come to a realization and were waiting for her response.
Her lungs stopped functioning at the sight of the bright fire hued glyphs shining from the golden band.
Her heart wanted to deny it. It screamed that it wasn't possible. It shouldn't be possible. Of every place, every nook and cranny searched and unsearched how was it possible that it was here?
"There are few who can." She barely registered Gandalf's grave voice and he confirmed her terrifying realization.
"The language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here."
Frodo turned to Gandalf. "Mordor?" The foulest, most sinister place in Middle Earth?
Gandalf could only gaze at him with a hollow stare.
"In the Common Tongue it says;
One ring to rule them all.
One ring to find them.
One ring to bring them all.
And in the darkness, binds them."
She finally found the Forsworn's Ring. After years and years of searching for the ring of Sauron's power and possible bane, it was right here in the Shire… right here in the hands of her little one. Now all the gaps began to fill; Bilbo's trick, the whispers, and the itching sensation in her scales…
Unable to contain her incredulity, Elysia all but snarled.
"WHAT?!"
...
They say quietly the dining room of Bag End, in tensions so thick that Silvindr would have difficulty cutting it. Frodo was preparing them much needed tea while Gandalf smoked his pipe to calm his nerves. Elysia's face was indecipherable. Stormy eyes scrutinized the golden band centered on the wooden table.
"This is the One Ring." He stated gravely. "Forged by the dark lord Sauron in the fires of Mount Doom, taken by Isildur from the hand of Sauron himself."
Elysia wore a pensive gaze. It brought great surprise and disbelief to her people at the news of Sauron's supposed defeat by the hands of the Free People, specifically man.
Of course her people didn't rejoice. They became sardonic, bitingly cynical, when they also heard of man's foolish choice to keep the ring as some kind of trophy. While dragons took trophies, they wanted none in this war. They wanted nothing of that foul Forsworn to exist even as a token of triumph after his heinous sins against their kind. Something of that evil was bound to have a curse, and they were right.
Frodo began to understand, slowly. "Bilbo found it." He said. "In Gollum's cave."
"Unbelievable…." Elysia muttered tonelessly, sipping her tea. "Yet… it fits the puzzle."
"Yes.. For 60 years, the Ring laid quiet in Bilbo's keeping." Gandalf whispered. "Prolonging his life, delaying old age…. But no longer… Evil is stirring in Morder. The Ring has woken, it heard its master's call."
"But he was destroyed… Sauron was destroyed." Frodo said, disbelieved and determined.
At the sound of the Dark Lord's name, the ring began to emit whispers that even Frodo and Gandalf could not ignore. Elysia gave a soft hiss.
"Wretched piece of metal." She cursed darkly.
Frodo looked at her and almost flinched at the sharp slit quality that her pupils took.
Gandalf spared the dragon a sympathetic glance before he locked eyes with Frodo.
"No Frodo… The spirit of Sauron endured… His life force is bounded to the Ring and the Ring survived…" Gandalf's voice dripped with loathing and dread.
"Sauron has returned."
Fear filled those blue pools. The darkness and misery of Sauron's reign were things so great that they became a legend, a myth for Hobbit children to hear.
"His orcs have multiplied… His fortress of Barad-dur is rebuilt in the land of Mordor. Sauron needs only this ring to cover all the lands in a second darkness."
As Gandalf continued, Elysia wandered into the dark depths of her mind. Memories that long haunted her began to stir. Old wounds began to come forth, scars splitting open. The smell of blood, the crying songs of despair howled by the jaws of her kin, the darkness, the soils soaked with dragon gore, the fear…
The death… The plea...
A last promise...
G-go… live.
*CRACK*
Frodo and Gandalf jumped at the loud sound of something breaking. Pieces of broken clay clattered on the table. Elysia's grip on her cup had been so powerful that she shattered the glazed pottery. Gandalf said nothing but the sorrow was evident in his pale ancient eyes.
Frodo, anxious at the hardened and haunted edge he had never seen before on the dragon he thought he knew, quickly gripped his beloved friend's upper arm. She was rigid and ashen.
"Elly?" He began to fear for his friend. His dear Elly never lost her composure like this… As a matter of fact, she never lost her composure at all.
Elysia would not look at him. She did not return his gaze, and she did nothing to assure him like she always would.
"They were dark times Frodo… Dark times…" Gandalf stated. "…For those that had suffered a firsthand encounter of Sauron's malice, it was an unending nightmare."
"Mithrandir… Letta ilerneo abr pömnuria helar!" Elysia glared at Gandalf.
Her words were harsh and curt, confusing Frodo. Elysia taught him little of the ancient language her kin spoke. He could only decipher the "stop speaking".
Gandalf seemed to have understood. He only gave a grave nod before gesturing to Frodo with his pipe. "You are frightening your hobbit."
In Elysia's own time, Gandalf hoped she would enlighten Frodo on her past. From what he knew of what Frodo knew, Elysia had only detailed the young hobbit on the better instances, protecting Frodo from knowledge of her demons, filling him only with sweet tales of exploration and lore.
Elysia quickly masked her emotions and wrapped an arm around Frodo like a mother hawk with its chick. Frodo bit his lip, displeased that they were being vague with him.
"It's the Ring, isn't it?"
Elysia did not utter a word, confirming Frodo's worry. Determined, he stood up and grabbed the Ring. It must never be found, and it's obvious that it brings great discomfort to his friend.
"Alright then! We put it away, we keep it hidden, we shall never speak of it again. No one knows it's here, do they…" He waited for Gandalf or Elysia to assure him as he looked for a safe spot, but he was only met with a dreadful silence.
Turning slowly to the tall wizard, he stared into those sunken eyes.
"Do they, Gandalf?"
The wizard stared and forced his words. Each weighed heavily upon him and Elysia.
"There is one other that knew that Bilbo had the Ring…."
The words were like a knife. Elysia's nails dragged along the hardwood surface of the table and stabbed into her palm as her fist clenched.
"I looked everywhere for the creature, Gollum…" Gandalf solemnly admitted. "But the enemy found him first."
Elysia's jaws clenched as she listened to Gandalf's explanation. So that was where that wretched gremlin was. It was no wonder she could not track him. At all costs, she avoided the dark storm clouds above the realm of Mordor's eastern regions. They were the few places she would never investigate for fear of being too close to the Eye.
"Shire… Baggins?" Frodo whispered. "But that would lead them hear!" He was terrified now. He could see the chaos this news would bring.
Elysia felt awful guilt and despair beat her heart. All these years she tried hard to protect the Shire, but even one dragon alone was no match for the resolve of a Dark Lord. Whatever horrors that the Forsworn would send to the Shire, she could not defend it, and it frustrated her.
The Shire would burn, the green fields and the clear streams would run red, and in the place of good food, passionate farming, warm shelter, brewing of ales, and smoking of pipe weed will be nothing but barren wastelands shrouded in darkness.
The hills of this place would become nothing more than grave mounds.
The laughter and cheer replaced by screams and despair.
The green consumed by black.
No more would things grow in the Shire… In the place of nurturing life will be nothing but death. All because of this accursed Ring.
Frodo was not capable of imaging the horrors Elysia was, but the mere idea made him frantic.
"Take it Gandalf!" He demanded desperately. "Take it!"
Gandalf became equally uneasy. "No Frodo."
"You MUST take it!"
"You cannot offer me this Ring!"
No he could not, neither could she. For both Elysia and Gandalf could not imagine the horrible effects the Ring of Power would have on an Istari like Gandalf or a dragon as herself. The magic thick in their veins was a great strength yet a terrible weakness.
"But I'm giving it to you!" Frodo was desperate and confused. Why won't the wise wizard take it?
"Don't tempt me Frodo!" Gandalf snapped, eyes glassy and full of fear.
As Gandalf began to explain his reasons, the reality of it all slowly sank to Frodo. Comprehending Gandalf's imploring gaze as he agreed that the Ring must not remain in the Shire, Frodo swallowed hard and mustered some courage not unlike how Bilbo had done many times on his journey. Pride filled Elysia as the young hobbit closed his hand and held the Ring.
"What must I do?"
...
Elysia moved with soundless haste. She entered her small room and all but ripped open her wardrobe while Gandalf spoke hastily to Frodo who began to pack as well.
Grabbing things she only needed, she tossed them onto her plush bed. A worn but still sturdy rucksack landed on the mattress, followed by only a few articles of clothing. Her scales and horns were telling her to be prepared for the worst. It would be a very long, arduous, and dangerous journey.
Rewrapping her chest bindings more securely, she pulled a dark blue tunic over her lissome frame before yanking on a pair of loose black trousers. Female wanderers with weapons were stranger sights than males, and Elysia wanted to attract as little attention as possible. She then whipped around a hooded, sleeveless robe of equal hue to her tunic and quickly donned the outerwear. Its black edged hem went down to her thighs. Wrapping the robe around her form just enough to pass as a male—albeit a lanky male—and not rustle up to make too much noise when she moved, she wrapped a raven sash around her waist and tied it at her hip.
A leather belt came over the sash to lessen the noise when she moved, and the hip belt allowed her to hide a few set of small but dangerous throwing blades under a flap of leather. She strapped on leather shoulder pads and thin leather arm guards. The material was meant less for protection and more for keeping the loose sleeves tucked from snagging on anything.
Grabbing her sack, she hesitated when she spotted a certain item lying on her shelf. Elysia quickly made up her mind and plucked the item, shoving it into the bag. Now was not the time to hesitate.
"-at the inn of the Prancing Pony." Frodo listened intently to Gandalf's instructions as he attempted to pack as fast as he could.
"And the ring will be safe the-" He froze at the sight of Elysia. His eyes widened at her attire. The style of her clothing wasn't very different from her usual travel attire in that it consisted of dark and dull colors. Yet there was blatant dissimilarity that made this one stand out from the rest.
This time, Elysia not only looked ready for travel, she appeared ready to strike. Frodo was beginning to empathize with the neighbors that feared Elly Walkins.
Gandalf noticed Frodo stopped listening to him and followed the hobbit's awed and somewhat nervous gaze to the female dragon as she began to strap Faersing to her back and Silvindr to her hip with a curved double edged dagger to compliment the falchion.
Her wavy raven locks shadowed her stoic face, accentuating the fierce battle-ready countenance. Elysia noticed their scrutiny as she began to twist and tie her hair in a braid. A few shorter strands already escaped her grasp and began to frame her face.
Frowning and quirking a brow, she asked.
"What?"
Gandalf leaned on his staff with a thoughtful look. "I haven't seen you wear something like that since the battle for the Lonely Mountain. You look like a ranger under cloak and dagger, my dear dragon."
Elysia huffed at his comment, blowing at the uneven fringe resting on her forehead. "Better that than resembling some elven damsel frolicking about with two swords. You know how wary the folks of Bree are, Mithrandir."
Tucking her braid in the pouch of her hood, she wrapped a long thin black cloth around her neck that served to conceal her face.
Frodo managed to break out of his stupor and packed the last of the food items for their journey. Gandalf returned to a graver state, but the sight of Elysia ready and steadfast gave some relief and eased some of his tension.
"I must see the head of my order, he is both wise and powerful." His confidence made Elysia narrow her eyes.
She fought the urge to snort, but Gandalf managed to catch her indignant reaction. Before he could chide or argue, Elysia simply remarked,
"Say whatever you like and defend that pompous old sorcerer, but I trust you more than him, however powerful and wise he may be."
Gandalf twisted his lip for a snarky look before returning attention to Frodo.
"You'll have to leave the name of Baggins behind you. That name is not safe outside the Shire."
Frodo nodded, adjusting his jacket. Gandalf helped him put on his cloak and pack while Elysia left to gather a few more things for their journey. Gandalf handed him a walking stick.
"Travel only by day, and stay off the road." He warned.
"I can cut across countries Gandalf." Frodo assured as he pocketed the Ring.
A sense of Déjà vu overwhelmed Gandalf as he recalled how Bilbo stood like that, albeit a bit frayed in the arduous journey, but looking as courageous and determined as Frodo is at the moment.
The gray Istari rested his hands on his hips and sighed with a nod. It wasn't long ago, in his standards, when Bilbo stood in that same manner. Small, but standing firm and standing determined to do what was right.
"Hobbits truly are amazing creatures. You can learn all that there is to learn about their ways in a month, yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you."
Frodo returned the old man's smile. Their cheery moment was interrupted by a snap and rustle of the bushes just outside the window.
"Lay down." Gandalf hissed and Frodo immediately obeyed. The wizard held his staff and crouched as he crept towards the bush.
Just as he jabbed hard at the rustling bush, Elysia came in.
"Gandalf wai-… Oh nevermind." She simply crossed her arms and waited as Gandalf promptly grabbed the skulking culprit eavesdropping on them, and with force belied by his old appearance, he tossed a familiar, rather pudgy little hobbit onto the table.
As Gandalf interrogated the gardener, Elysia tilted her head.
"You hobbits are curious creatures." She muttered to Frodo. He glanced at her and she elaborated.
"If I haven't lived amongst you little folk for all these years, it would take tedious amounts of effort to sense or track you. Curious, how those large hairy feet of yours are so nimble and quiet. Hobbits are such stealthy folk."
Frodo smiled. "Bilbo said that was why he was chosen for the journey to Erebor."
"And ironically, that burglar tended to get himself into quite troublesome situations. I leave him momentarily, and I find him trying to bargain with trolls." Elysia deadpanned before shoving on her better pair boots up to her knees.
The thin but durable soles of the boots weren't as clumpy as her usual footwear. It would make for a quieter stride. Lacing the side up for a snug fit, Elysia Walkins stood up.
With an air of finality in her preparation, she reached back and pinched her hood, propping it up and over her head. She then turned and under the shadow of the mysterious hood, Frodo found those piercing pale eyes meet his blue ones with familiar warmth.
"Are you dressed warm enough, little one? It's going to rain at some point…."
...
"Come along, Samwise! Keep up." Gandalf was most impatient and grumpy as they travelled through the misty fields at the chilly early morn of the Shire. Frodo and Elysia walked behind the wizard and his brown steed while a few paces behind, a nervous gardener followed.
Elysia appeared to be calm as she stared forward, but internally she was wincing and fighting the urge to sigh in exasperation at the ruckus Sam made in his haste to keep up.
His pack jostled with pots and pans clanging against a large, hastily filled pack. As to why the hobbit would need to bring-what Elysia deemed to be—a preposterously large assortment of things, the dragon had naught the slightest of a clue.
She was able to sniff out and see few of the many items Sam carried: sausages, a blanket, bread, spices—now why in the skies did this hobbit carry so many spices?—, some dried meat, cooking item, cooking item, cooking item, and those pots and pans that made an unbearable racket. Samwise Gamgee seemed to be prepared for a picnic.
They waded through the thick fields of flowering vegetation while Gandalf warned them of the dangers lurking in every corner.
"Be careful… The enemy has many spies… Birds… Beasts." He stopped and scanned the perimeter with those sage eyes before focusing upon the young master of Bag End.
"Is it safe?"
Frodo put a hand over his pocket for assurance, feeling the hard lump of the golden bang through the cloth. Gandalf bent down to eye level with Frodo.
"Never put it on, for the agents of the dark lord will be drawn to its power and to some of us around you, its power has a poisonously crippling risk." Frodo knew whom Gandalf spoke of, and he was determined not to put his dragon companion in peril.
"Remember… The Ring is trying to get back to its master." Gandalf whispered. "It wants to be found."
He gave the hobbit a pat on the shoulder before directing his attention to Elysia. Within two short strides, he was shoulder to shoulder with his old apprentice.
"You must take extra precautions to keep your identity concealed." He whispered fiercely. "Unless the need for it is ultimately dire and even then… You must avoid reverting to your draconian form… With the Ring so close in proximity and the activity rising within Mordor, I fear for your safety, my dear."
"And I for yours, Gandalf…." She turned and gazed at him long and hard. "I shall heed your warning as I always have, but in return I beseech you to heed mine… My kinsman senses something foul festering in Isengard… Keep your staff ready and Glamdring sharp… For I do not know if it is the wizard that irks me or the depressing view of that black tower of his, but something… something isn't right there."
The wizard hesitated briefly, assessing the unwavering woman that only reached up to his shoulders. Alas, time was short so his eyes crinkled and he smiled sadly and simply rested a gnarled hand on her shoulder.
"It pains me to force you to leave the Shire like this… You've even managed snag a name here, Elysia Walkins."
"Yes… I am ever so fond of that pun of a name." She mused half-heartedly.
"May good fortune rule over you, my dear Brightscales." Gandalf said earnestly.
"And may the stars watch over you, my old Ebrithil*."
They gazed at Gandalf's retreating figure as he urged his horse to gallop with haste. Eventually the dragon and the two hobbits were left to their own devises. While Frodo nervously scanned his surroundings, Elysia remained calm.
"Come, little one… Sam… We must make haste."
Frodo and Sam struggled to keep up with Elysia's long strides and quick pace. They traversed the great fields of the Shire, and Elysia caved and took one last good long look at her surroundings; the lush green grass, the hearty wheat fields, it was the distinct sight of tranquility. She wanted to memorize it.
There was a growing feeling that she wouldn't be back here any time soon.
This place became dear to her, and in many ways it healed her heart of many sorrows. In her far stretched immortal span of life, the Shire was naught but a small portion. Yet, that small portion made all the difference. The Shire became her home. A part of her longed to make the children laugh one last time and to give a little warning to the farmers of a downpour soon to come, she wished to walk through the weekend markets and haggle with the merchants that came and went.
But alas, she was a dragon bound by her honor and duty. If anything, the Ring would soon be bound for Rivendell, and the elvish lord residing within would without a doubt summon a council amongst the free people. If the pieces were played right, Elysia would act as ambassador to the council, and as promised to the Eldest and to her kinsmen, she would do what she can to aid the Free people in their war against the Forsworn.
Her thoughts were distracted when they crossed the line from the golden wheat fields to the tall green corn crops. Sam had stopped at the line with a thoughtful and rather sullen look.
"This is it."
Elysia and Frodo turned.
"This is what, Sam?" Frodo inquired.
"If I take one more step…" Sam looked up at the two travelers looking more at ease than he did. Frodo had a purposeful walk while Elysia took her strides as if wandering far from the Shire was a daily thing—which wasn't all that off from the truth…
"It'll be the farthest away from home I've ever been." He finished.
Frodo empathized more than Elysia who simply took on a patient look under the hood. The master of Bag End encouraged his gardener to move forward and take that single step.
"Come on, Sam." He wrapped and arm around the hobbit. "Remember what Bilbo used to say."
Elysia began to reminisce of her times with his uncle. Sam wasn't like Bilbo or Frodo. Their Tookish side ushered them forward and out of the Shire to a greater adventure with the ease of a bird taking to the sky. They always knew of a greater world beyond the borders of a Shire, but to Samwise, the Shire was his world. Who knew what lied ahead, beyond the Shire? Their path was clouded.
There's no knowing where you'll be swept off to, indeed my dear Bilbo Baggins.
Elysia became somewhat mollified of her irritation with Sam's raucous pack when he cooked them an enticing meal of sausage slices and bread. The sky darkened, and they stopped to rest for the night at the base of a tree, well hidden within the brush. Elysia was perfectly content and tempted to push forward and travel in the dark, but the hobbits were weary. They were not used to such long treks—they haven't even left their Shire, not once.
Not needing as much sleep, she evaded her slumber and sat like a watchful warden in the canopies above the Halflings. Her dark clothes rendered her invisible. She listened to Sams grumbling and complaints about the uncomfortable ground. She could empathize with that. She quite liked the plush bed she had in the Shire. If only they an immense dragon sized one for the Eldest. Valzinjr would be most pleased at the new and less stiff sleeping nest, but then again… If the old dragon had one of those, he would probably sleep eternally.
Elysia smiled at the amusing mental image of a massive bed for the Great White Dragon.
~O~O~O~O~O~
For a wise old Istari, Gandalf felt like an utter fool. Nausea swam in his gut as he began to realize the dreadful truth of Saruman the Wise.
Indeed, the dragon was right… Something foul has festered in Isengard and Saruman…
He moved his glare from the foul Pilantiri to the powerful wizard he always respected. Saruman held his glare with a patronizing stare, pale, gnarled, sharp hand grasped on his staff with a smug power hungry air that Gandalf found more putrid and wicked than an orc's carcass.
Hope for Frodo still remained, for the wizard has left him in good hands. However, Gandalf felt hope waning for himself. May the stars watch over him…
Sam managed to weave through the towering corn fields onto a clearer little path. His curls bounced as he shook his head back and forth before looking around.
He was alone.
~O~O~O~O~O~
Panic welled inside him. Sam began to walk frantically.
"Mr. Frodo?... Frodo?!" He began to quicken his pace as he looked for the young master. Frodo entered the small path along with Elysia, looking mildly startled. Same sighed in relief.
"I thought I lost you."
Frodo frowned. "What are you talking about?" He asked, perplexed by Sam's distress.
Elysia remained silent and stared into the fields with a distant expression of scrutiny. While she was taller than her hobbit companions, the corn fields managed to obscure her vision with their robust height. However, her ears were catching something rustling nearby.
Meanwhile, Sam turned a little exasperated. "It's just something Gandalf said."
"What did he say?"
"'Don't you lose him Samwise Gamgee'" Sam did a poor impression of the wizard. "..and I don't mean to."
Frodo held back a snort as he smiled. "Sam, we're still in the Shire, what could possibly happen?"
As if Frodo had jinxed their peaceful fortune, something rammed into Sam and toppled him over. Frodo stared, startled at the sudden sight of a very familiar hobbit. Then another rustle came and another "something" burst from the crops.
The second "something" rammed into Elysia, but the dragon was hardly fazed. With a small oomph, the "something" bounced off of Elysia's unmoving form and collided with Frodo, who wasn't as physically steadfast as the dragon and tumbled over in a messy heap of curly hair and vegetables.
Elysia gazed flatly at the Halflings while they attempted to regain their bearings like a ditzy group of newly born hatchlings. She was not amused by the sudden addition to their travelling group. Of all the beings they could have encountered, they encounter the devious Brandybuck and foolish Took.
"Frodo!" The said Took stared down at the startled Baggins. "Merry! It's Frodo Baggins!"
The Brandybuck began to stand as he brushed himself off and greeted him "Hello Frodo!" delighted that they ran into a friend of theirs… Quite literally.
However, there was a hobbit that was not quite delighted at the meeting. Sam grabbed Pippin and tossed him off of the stunned Baggins.
"Gerroff him!" He growled.
Merry began to gather their bundle of newly gathered crops, piling them promptly into Sam's arms.
"You've been into farmer Maggot's crops." Merry and Pippin froze at the monotonous voice.
Dread and regret began to boil unpleasantly in their stomach as they recognized that smoky timbre. They swallowed hard as they stood up and turned to face the voice. They hadn't noticed, in their haste, that they intercepted a company of three not two.
Pippin almost whimpered. Elysia Walkins looked particularly more intimidating that usual in her strange attire. Those pale stormy eyes held a feline glow under the shadow of the dark hood and by the Shire, are those swords that she is carrying?
"E-Elly!" Merry managed to squeak. The sapphire pommel of Faersing seemed to wink dangerously at him.
The sound of barking dogs and a very angry farmer not far away in the cornfield interrupted them. Farmer Maggot was angry enough to carry a scythe with him. Gnashing his teeth nervously, Merry quickly grabbed Frodo and Pippin and ran the opposite way, into the field of corn. Sam was still frozen with the vegetables in his arms until Elysia sighed and grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to run along and follow the hobbits before she followed suit. Now was not the time to deal with a raging hobbit wielding a scythe.
"I don't know why he's so upset! It's only a couple of carrots!" Merry cried as he ran through the thick field.
"And some cabbages!" Pippin added. "And some of those-"
Elysia tuned out the hobbits with an inward sigh. She was sorely tempted to slice through the stubborn corn fields. The hobbits had better luck in running and weaving through the thick foliage due to their size, but she was getting an earful of corn, no pun intended.
She heard a crowd of yells that soon were mixed with the sound of loosened dirt, snapping roots, and tumbling pebbles.
For the love of-..
Elysia broke through the vegetation only to find that the hobbits were tumbling down a very steep hill. Forget the trouble she went through with one hobbit on the Erebor journey, she had the inkling that these four hobbits will put her through something far more troublesome.
With a quick glance to gage the steepness and drop, Elysia made her quick decent with much more grace than those hobbits.
The hobbits groaned and moaned as they began to disentangle themselves from the heap. Frodo didn't doubt that he would have some bruises on his back from where Pippin's heel pressed in. He stood up, dusting himself off as the others discovered mushrooms and began to hastily collect the delectable fungi. He wanted to shake his head. There were more important matters at hand than some mushrooms. He had an imperative task to complete.
Frodo scanned the area, mainly the matted dirt beneath his feet. A frown made its way to his features as he began to realize something.
They were on a road…. Didn't Gandalf say to stay off the road?
"I… think we should get off the road." He stated.
The hobbits gathering the mushrooms were too focused on their find. The wind seemed to hiss, and with the chilly breeze, Frodo felt an immense amount of discomfort. The road seemed to press in on them as though it were trying to snare them in place.
Suddenly, a dark figure landed from above in a feline crouch. There was little evidence of her slipping on the steep hill, if she slipped at all.
Elysia snapped up and bore a heart stammering glare of aggravated urgency.
"Get off the bloody road!" She snarled so ferociously that Pippin, Sam, and Merry bolted upright and hastily obeyed. Elysia moved to Frodo so swiftly, he had little time to protest when she all but carried him off the leaf strewn path.
They had enough fortune to find a big enough hollow under the roots of a roadside tree that would fit all five of them. It was a tight squeeze. Frodo was placed in the deepest corner of the hollow, partially shielded from the mouth by a tense Elysia. Pippin, Merry, and Sam fidgeted and squirmed in discomfort until Elysia glared at them with her icy daggers. They could have sworn she hissed.
It wasn't long before they understood her sudden severity.
Heavy hooves clopped to a halt on the road. From the gaps of the roots they could see crusted gore caking black hooves. The dark steed snorted and Elysia wrinkled her nose. It reeked of old blood.
There was a rustle.
A metal plated boot landed on the ground. The rider was off their black steed.
An armored hand curled over the rooted edge of the mouth. The rider was crouching.
There was a dark, blood curdling, spine chilling sensation that crept through them as they heard the sniffs in the deafening silence. The Halflings trembled while Elysia remained frigidly poised. Her hand silently and slowly made its way to Silvindr's handle, prepared to behead the black rider should they be discovered.
So her suspicions were correct… Sauron has sent his forsaken riders to track them down. She dreaded this. The riders had not been this active, had not traversed this far from their fortress for ages. Sauron was becoming bolder with passing time.
A dark whisper slithered to her ears. Elysia whipped her head and spotted the gleaming gold band exposed in Frodo's hand. She grabbed his wrist in a vice like grip, breaking him from his trance. But to have her hand so near the Ring nearly made her jolt. She flinched and released Frodo as though he stung her.
There was a hitch in the hissing breath of the black rider.
Desperate, Sam swung the bag of mushrooms far off the left. The rider immediately flew towards the racket with a shriek. Snatching the chance created by the diversion, they all ran from the hiding spot and headed deep into the forest. Elysia kept a hand on Silvindr's handle as she made sure Frodo and the others stayed in her line of sight.
They didn't stop running for several minutes until Merry stumbled downhill and fell onto the leafy ground. Equally out of breath, the others stopped while Elysia remained watchful of the trees behind them.
"What was that?" Merry panted.
Frodo breathed hard and slowly looked down at his palm, realizing then that the Ring had been out of his pocket and in his hands this entire time. He couldn't quite remember when he pulled it out, and that unnerved him. Simple and plain as it seemed, there was nothing simple about this gold ring.
"There is no time. We cannot linger here!" Elysia forced Merry to stand. "Stay low and keep your eyes sharp. Do as I say and follow my movement." Her fierce command left no room for argument.
She then turned to the plump hobbit. "Sam, bring me your water."
The gardener hastily obeyed, pulling out his waterskin and unscrewed the cap of the leather sac. Elysia quickly tipped water onto her cupped hand. She ignored their inquisitive stares and gently put forth her moist fingers to her lips, cupping her mouth as if she were gently blowing an invisible horn.
Pippin and Merry gasped in surprise, Sam's jaw hung open, and Frodo only widened his eyes. Mist poured from her fingers and began to rise from the ground and the area around them. Soon the land around them was shrouded in mist.
"Stay cautious. This trick won't conceal you entirely, and it won't last forever."
The riders would sense something suspicious with the enchanted mist, but Elysia was running out of options.
They were travelling through the night. Elysia paid little heed to the fact that her company of two had now become a company of four. She moved like their shadow, swift and silent, while her ears, nose, and eyes remained alert for the slightest hint of those foul riders.
"What is going on?" Pippin finally asked, tired and confused.
Neither Frodo, Sam, nor Elysia gave him an answer. Merry, being the smarter one of their duo, stepped forward, near Frodo.
"That black rider was looking for something… or someone… Frodo?" Merry deduced quickly. But he was interrupted by Elysia
"Get down!" She hissed and forced them flat on the ground as she crouched low over them.
In the moonlit night, they could make the outlines of the dark rider and his foul steed. The black horse's breath fogged the air like a poisonous miasma. Under the chilling wind, the forest fell deathly silent as the rider scanned the surroundings before urging its horse elsewhere and out of sight over the hill.
Frodo released a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.
"…. We must leave the Shire…" He whispered to Merry, still staring at the moonlit dark. Pippin and Merry stilled at this. A hobbit leaving the Shire?
Frodo then turned and Merry saw the adamancy in his eyes. The Baggins was not jesting. He was really going to leave.
"The three of us must get to Bree." Elysia hissed. "Merry, you know these grounds better than I. Is there a faster way to cross the river?"
Elysia knew of a crossing, but it was over twenty miles away. They couldn't risk such distance with mounted pursuers in their path.
Merry hesitated then put on a brave face.
"Buckleberry Ferry. Follow me."
They ran through the night, now with Merry in the lead. But their fortune finally wavered. The riders had gathered into the enchanted mist and began to scour the lands with vicious scrutiny. It was inevitable they would be spotted at their breakneck pace.
An earsplitting shriek echoed the forest as a black rider burst from the woods and into their tiny clearing, intercepting them and dividing their group. Like startled lambs, they scattered and stumbled in panic as the cloaked figure towered over them.
Then Frodo saw a sudden gleam of radiant silver glint under the moon.
A familiar curved blade swung through the air like a swift gust of wind, nothing but a blur that sped past the rider. He barely even heard the sound of flesh being cut, but the rider's horse released a pained cry and its hind legs crumpled to the ground. As the rider fell in a shadowy heap, Frodo heard Elysia's voice loud and clear.
"RUN!"
The said dragon suddenly appeared by Frodo's side and grabbed Frodo by the arm, forcing him forward while Silvindr gleamed in her other hand, unsheathed and smeared with dark crimson blood.
They were behind the others who already took off at Elysia's word. Frodo clung onto Elysia's calloused hand for dear life as she wove through the trees with such speed that she nearly carried Frodo's entire weight. They managed to run out of the forest where Elysia spotted the others preparing the ferry.
"Frodo! Elly!" Sam called.
"Get going!" Elysia commanded. Merry and Pippin quickly obeyed, shoving the ferry from the dock. Sam panicked. Elysia and Frodo weren't going to make it in time! They needed to wait!
As they neared the wooden fence, Elysia sheathed Silvindr and swept Frodo off his feet with a single arm. Holding him to her firmly, she sped faster than before and leapt over the fence in a single bound.
Sam, Pippin, and Merry began to frantically cry out to them as a black rider erupted from the forest, not far behind them, screaming at the two to make haste.
Elysia gave an extra burst of speed at hearing those clopping, nailed hooves gallop behind them. She could smell the foul breath of the horse… feel it against her neck. It smelled of rotting corpses and metal.
With a great leap, Elysia covered the fifteen foot gap. Her skidding feet against the ferry's wobbly wooden floorboards mirrored the hooves of the rider's steed as it skidded on the dock. An enraged shriek echoed the night as the rider yanked the reigns of its horse, turning it back from the water's edge and back to solid earth.
They could practically feel the malicious dismay targeting them at their narrow escape. More riders began to emerge from the shadows at the call of one of their own.
Frodo was still clinging onto Elysia, heart racing and lungs burning. "How far to the nearest crossing?" He shivered at the thought of being ambushed by the riders again just after their narrow escape.
"Brandywine Bridge… Twenty miles." Merry's information brought little ease to the hobbits. Frodo buried his head in Elysia's shoulder. The sound of the dragon's strong hammering heartbeat dwarfed his own palpating heart.
Elysia merely held him close for a moment before gently letting him down. Frodo still did not stray near her form, clinging to her hip like a frightened child to its mother. She caressed his curls silently, refusing to murmur soothing words of false comfort to the little one. Their escape had been too narrow for her comfort. She would have to keep them vigilant until they reached Bree.
Sam edged closer to the female, feeling more secure by being near her fierce presence. Pippin felt a twinge of envy at Frodo basking so closely in Elysia's protective aura as she nurtured him and kept him close. Being the youngest, he felt particularly more vulnerable and desired nothing more than to hide himself in her arms at that very moment. Even Merry was closer than he was, his shoulder touching her free side as he maneuvered the ferry.
Unable to stand the lingering fear of the terrifying experience, Pippin edged a little closer to Elysia and leaned a little more towards Merry. After a few uncertain heartbeats, Pippin suddenly found himself with the side of his face pressed against the side of Elysia's stomach. She had bluntly but gently grabbed his collar and pulled him to her, having smelled his fear.
Feeling the warmth of her hand against his neck, Pippin released a sigh and closed his eyes.
"Don't feel so at ease yet…" She whispered softly "…And pull up your hoods. It's going to rain very soon."
*Ebrithil= Master