Disclaimer: Original canon characters all belong to Mr. Tolkien. There are too many for me to list, but if you are a Lord of the Rings fan, you'll be familiar with them as they appear. Wild Child is alternate universe (AU) fiction, meaning it will not follow the original book/movie plot. Personally, I have found exploring the what-ifs opens the door to more possibilities and creativity. My creation and contribution to this story is Allie, her family and the wolves. However, as you read, everything and everyone will entwine together in a single story that will take you along an enjoyable ride.
Warning: There are touchy subjects such as child abuse, bullying, and violent fight scenes, but those themes are only small passages in the grand scheme of the story (at least so far, since I haven't finished the story yet). It will mostly be rated T.
Also, I'm starting a massive rewrite of the earlier chapters because let's face it; they can always be much better! I would like to thank and credit Jennyslaw for beta-reading this story. Thanks for enriching the background and the characters, and improving the overall writing. You're awesome!
Now that all that stuff's been said, let's begin!
WILD CHILD
by burningSunset
Now halt your minds
and listen to their cry
From Northern alters
formed of snow and ice,
Beneath celestial curtains
in their sky,
The wolves give evensong
of sacrifice.
~John Hubbard Bidwell~
Prologue
Frodo Baggins was ten years old when he first met Allie Brandybuck, though he would not remember that moment to be their first meeting for a very long time.
On that hot mid-summer evening, Frodo had been lucky to get a piggy ride from his father. Presently, he had his head rested against his father's warm and sturdy back. His mother walked beside them with one hand upon her husband's arm and the other carrying a basket of freshly plucked vegetables. They kept a steady pace on their way back home up the slopes of Buck Hill.
Frodo had an apple clenched in his small fist, but was too tired to eat it, having played tag in the fields all day with his friends. In a half-daze, he listened to his parents conversing quietly, their voices mingling with the buzzing bees and chirping cicadas hiding in the foliage of nearby trees. The setting sun projected its last rays upon his head and back, casting him in a cocoon of warmth. Slumber edged ever closer while he counted his father's thumping steps upon the country road.
One. Two. One. Two.
His hand relaxed enough for the uneaten apple to slide from his weak grasp. It met the ground with a hollow thump and Frodo cracked his eyes open to see it rolling down the hill, an irregular ball of vibrant red coursing through the green. His mother began chasing after it, but paused when someone intercepted the apple's course further down the sinewy road.
Frodo blinked some sleep out of his eyes and made out a young hobbit lass clad in a yellow shirt and brown trousers. She picked up the apple and threw a cursory look behind her shoulder. After a second of hesitation, she walked up the hill toward them.
Drogo flashed her a warm smile and offered his thanks once she handed the apple back to him.
Frodo looked down from his father's shoulder, but from that angle could only see a mass of curly blonde hair. Before he could take a better look, his father put the apple back into his limp hand.
"Don't drop it again, son," his father said with a hearty laugh.
The lass lifted her face toward him, one hand raised to her forehead to shield her eyes from the rays of the setting sun. Her arm hid most of her features from his sleepy-eyed view, but he smiled anyway.
"Hello," he said.
The hobbit lass attempted to get a look at his face as well, but the red glare of the setting sun obscured everything but his silhouette.
"Hello," she answered, and then she ran back down the hill, sprinting away toward the sound of galloping hooves and the creaking of a cart.