"Gandalf! Where exactly is back?" Asked Lostoriel for the fourth time in half an hour.
Her three first tries had been answered with a simple, "back," and she began to grow tired of Gandalf's endless ability to be cryptic.
This time the old wizard stopped dead in his tracks. Behind him, Lostoriel skidded to a halt nearly slammed headfirst into his back. She panted, holding her side as her muscles pinched together. For an old man he ran with stamina, and she was struggled to keep up. His silver-grey beard swirled around with him when he spun and shot her a withering stare,
"We are going back to the Company," Gandalf huffed in frustration, "If there are any trolls in the area, they may need saving."
"Who is this 'Company?' And you still haven't answered my first question." Lostoriel took the opportunity to tie back her dirty blonde hair, it had plastered itself down her back and clung to her waist where it had started to curl and threatened to dry into something monstrous.
"I have as a matter of fact answered your questions, just not in the manner you wanted me to. You will find your answers soon enough." His eyebrow almost receded into his hairline as he gazed at her with the same worn expression one might give a child who has begun to exhaust every question under the sun.
"I suggest exercising a bit of patience."
With that he turned and marched further into the forest, "Oh and," he dug for something beneath the heavy layers of his robes, "You may need this." Gandalf threw a large, sheathed dagger towards her, which she caught with ease.
Her eyes widened; the wizard was insufferable! And now he intended on fighting whatever the danger was, which set butterflies loose in her stomach.
Lostoriel unsheathed the dagger, the hilt was wrapped in leather, the blade itself was broad and silver steel in colour with strange, delicate engravings on it, which glinted in the moonlight that streamed through the trees. The hilt fitted comfortably in her hand, it was well balanced, and she flicked her wrist about a few times. The movements felt familiar, a shadow of a memory.
Lostoriel's eyes glazed over as she stared at the blade, images of great trees swarmed her mind. The golden sunlight danced amongst their leaves which danced with the wind, pulling a sweet laugh from the depths of the trees. She could hear a deep, commanding voice shouting drill orders, something about that voice had made her want to work harder. To push herself further. She saw other lithe figures sparring around her. A sword collided with hers, twisting her wrist and fingers awkwardly and sending her blade flying in the opposite direction.
A pale face shrouded in silver hair appeared in her vision, shouting at her. She jerked as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her as he scolded her.
"Lostorii-"someone was shaking her, the voice was muffled, but urgent.
"Lostoriel!" They shouted and the elf jumped at the familiar name, she dropped the dagger from her hand and swore as it hit the ground with a thud. She had not been called that for many years.
It was Gandalf, she realised as the split image of his wrinkled face became one.
"What happened?" Asked Lostoriel, bending to pick up her sword. The night sky was beginning to lighten, the stars were fading into the slow morning light. "I've been here for hours, haven't I?"
The deep concern in Gandalf's eyes gave her the answer.
"How?"
Gandalf's eyebrows furrowed together, and he pressed his lips together tightly, losing himself in deep thought. "I do not know. Now come, hurry, we don't have time to explain, and I need your help."
The old wizard bolted off into the forest, Lostoriel hot on his heels. The sunlight touched the roots of the trees, catching the leaves and stretching like wildfire as they ran. The forest thinned out and soon they were coursing across an open field and through an abandoned camp.
Passing near the strewn sleeping bags, pots and bowls and the smouldering fire revealed that whoever had been here had left in a hurry.
They ran headlong into the forest again, crashing through the undergrowth and scurrying across a massive rock wall. As they crossed over the top the pair saw a site to behold: three massive, grey, filthy trolls were gathered around a bonfire. Before them stood a short, curly-haired fellow in a filthy cloth sack and on a spit above the fire were several stocky men tied to a thick branch. They appeared to be alive, but slowly roasting. And one, incredibly round, ginger- bearded man was dangling by his ankles over the cavernous mouth of a troll.
There were more bearded men strewn in a pile of sacks on the far side of the clearing.
So, this was the company that Gandalf was talking about. Lostoriel's forehead crinkled as she frowned, from the manner in which the wizard spoke of them, she had expected more grandeur compared to the sorry state they were currently in.
"Wait!" Came a cry from the small man.
Gandalf and Lostoriel froze in stride. The wizard hoped that the hobbit wasn't calling to them. They hid behind overgrown foliage along the rock wall.
"No not that one, he's, he's infected!" Shouted the little man.
The pair sighed in relief.
"By the way, the name is Laura." She growled and Gandalf purposefully ignored her.
Why she was calling herself by such an odd name was all but lost to him.
"So, this is the Company." Said Lostoriel dryly as she voiced her earlier thought, watching the deteriorating scene below.
Gandalf sighed, "Yes. Those are some of the most formidable Dwarf warriors this far East from the Iron Hills." He proudly stated as a roaring cry came from the pile of sacks and spit about them not being infected with parasites. The hidden pair peaked through the breaks in the foliage, observing the scene with mild amusement and knots in their stomachs.
"They're not very impressive." She heard a snort of annoyance from beside her as they observed the situation rapidly descend into danger, the trolls were beginning to catch onto the lie.
"Yes, well right now neither are you!" Gandalf hissed, squinting as the morning sun finally stretched its long limbs over the horizon. He scanned the scene below, "Climb down these rocks and crouch as far down as you can."
The Elf's eyes widened, she stared at him like he was mad before nodding her head in unwanted resolve in the realisation that it was no use trying to argue with this man. "What are you going to do?"
The wizard rose from his crouched position, his joints creaked and clicked as he moved, "I'm going to catch the light. Now go!" He shouted in earnest.
Lostoriel scurried down the rock wall and once on the ground folded herself into the smallest ball possible and covered her head. She sunk herself further into the thick, soft bush that covered this part of the rock wall. Her heart pounded against her ribcage; the sound echoed in her ears and her body trembled. She wondered what Gandalf was planning to do.
"Fool?" That was the less intelligent troll from what she had gathered, he reminded her of a fish. It was his bulging eyes and his mouth that fluttered open and close as if he was gasping for air.
"The dawn will take you all!" Came Gandalf's cry as he stood silhouetted against the rising sun, his beard and hair turning a twinge of orange in the sunlight. Lostoriel's heart hammered against her chest, Gandalf's plan was horrible so far and she hoped that nothing would happen to him. She had no clue where she was, nor what she would do if those trolls found her or if they killed the wizard and left her to save the Company. The thought twisted her stomach. Lostoriel did not dare to breathe in the silence that stretched endlessly.
Gandalf raised his staff above his head and slammed it against the rock with a mighty crack, smoothly splitting it in two pieces, smaller pieces of the rock fell around Lostoriel, crushing the shrubbery around her. A large chunk of the rock landed with a muffled thud and a thunderous creaking sound erupted from the trolls, mixing with their own pained groans as the warm morning sun hit their thick skin and they began to turn into stone. Lostoriel climbed back up the rock to Gandalf and watched in horror and amazement as the vile creatures solidified into grey stone.
"That. Was impressive." Lostoriel stood, breathing deeply with her hands on her hips as a loud chorus of cheers erupted from the sacked Dwarves.
Gandalf smirked before leaping from the rock wall and landing with a loud thud. "Now your turn!" he called up to her. Lostoriel landed with a light bounce, her feet made no sound on the forest floor.
"Gandalf! I've never been happier to see anyone in my life!" Exclaimed the man and as he hopped towards them in his sack Lostoriel saw that he was not a man at all.
"Bilbo! My dear lad!" Gandalf embraced him and then untied the knot around his neck and the sack to pooled around his broad and curly- haired feet.
He stared at Lostoriel in amazement, "You- You're an elf." He whispered in awe.
Her ears were not as large as he thought they'd be, but they were pointed upwards, and her face was so fair that he swore to himself that he had never seen such beauty before. The pair stood on awkward silence until Gandalf came to the rescue.
"Lostoriel, allow me to introduce you to Bilbo-"
"Oi! " Cried a Dwarf who looked like a terrifying Viking, with tattoos across his balding head and fiery annoyance blazing in his dark eyes. "There's plenty time for introductions later! I don't fancy being slow roasted while you three acquaint yourselves with one another." He growled with a heavy accent as the branch they were tied to, creaked, and popped under their weight.
The trio sprang into action, with Bilbo muttering apologies to the Dwarves as he untied them from the sacks. Gandalf and Lostoriel managed to lift the Dwarves off the fire and onto solid ground earning many grateful thanks. Lostoriel shook out her arms, her muscles were jelly after carrying them.
She made her way over to Bilbo who was struggling with a few of the knots when she heard an "Excuse me," Come from the Dwarf with the floppy starfish shaped hairstyle. She turned cautiously; she could feel their eyes boring into her skull.
"If you don't mind me asking. Who are you?"
The clearing was silent, Lostoriel's eyes bulged within her skull, "I - I am La-" the words refused to unstick from the walls of her throat. She blushed; her scratchy voice was swallowed by the silence.
Gandalf locked eyes with her and imperceptibly shook his head. He smiled kindly and gestured to the elf, "Allow me the honour of introducing all of you to my old friend Lostoriel. Lostoriel, this is the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."
The hairs on her back stood on end, the whisper was too soft for their ears to hear, but it rang clear as daylight to her Elven ears. The voice was deep as he breathed out her name. it was almost a rumble in the wind, but she knew that voice and her heart fluttered when he said her name. But she had no idea to whom the voice belonged to."
"Uncle, whoa steady there!" A young blonde haired Dwarf held his arms around his raven haired uncle who was leaning against the tree beside him and gripping onto his nephew's shoulder with his free hand.
"Thorin, you alright?" he worriedly searched his body for any sign of injury from their earlier battle. His uncle had lost his footing just now and was gasping for breath.
Thorin straightened himself, standing steady on both feet. The wind had been knocked out of his lungs, had he not grabbed Fili he would've fallen to his knees. He did not understand how this was possible. She was…She had been…
Dead.
That day they had left her for dead. He inhaled deeply trying to slow his racing heart and stop the lead heavy lump that had begun to form in his throat.
"Yes Fili, I'm alright...Just lost my balance for a moment, my leg went dead after having Oin and Kili nap on it." He let out a gentle laugh, squeezing Fili's shoulder reassuringly, his eyes locking with hers for a fleeting moment, two sets of blue conveying the same confusion and pain. Thorin turned away, pulling his mask over his heart.
"Get dressed and get moving. We'll rest at nightfall."
"And this is Myrtle." Bilbo stroked her snout, scratching the puff of white hair above her nose.
He and Lostoriel were moving through the forest leading the ponies back to the camp, through dappled patches of sunlight that touched the forest floor.
The Dwarves were busy getting dressed again and most of them were still in their long-John's. Revealing a lot more than Lostoriel wished to see.
The Elf leaned towards the pony, she had an apple tucked in her hand, which Myrtle sniffed out without the slightest bit of hesitation. Lostoriel softly spoke to the pony, its ears pricked up at the gentle sound of her voice.
"That's bribery." Said Bilbo with a friendly smile as he moved closer to his beloved pony.
Lostoriel turned, giving him a look of mock hurt, "It is not."
"Is too. Myrtle refuses to befriend anyone until they feed her something or the other."
"Yes well, that's a sign of a spoilt pony."
"Hmm, I can't argue with that." Agreed Bilbo with a laugh, "Now before you uncover any more of our secrets, we're still missing two ponies. Daisy and Bungo."
Lostoriel handed him Myrtle's reins, "Here, you lead the rest back and I'll go looking for the other two."
Bilbo nodded his thanks but looked nervous at the idea of herding them back to camp. Lostoriel caught the pleading expression, "Just start leading one, the rest should follow."
The Hobbit, as Lostoriel had learnt during their walk, nodded his thanks with an embarrassed "right" and began lead the ponies away.
Lostoriel turned in the direction of the well where most of the ponies were grazing. A warm feeling had settled in her stomach, she'd begun to befriend the Hobbit and it was good to know she had a friend. Bilbo was quiet, but kind and told excellent stories when given the opportunity. And best of all, he was not as cryptic as Gandalf!
In her musings wound her way to the small clearing where the ponies were.
There, in the patchy sunlight stood two chestnut coloured ponies grazing on the short grass. Lostoriel cautiously made her way towards them, the last thing she wanted them to do was bolt.
"Hullo there, Daisy," she tugged an apple out her coat pocket and held it up to the pony. "This is definitely bribery."
She smiled to herself as the pony began to eat the apple out of her palm. Lostoriel stroked Daisy's white snout, "There's a good girl."
A wet nose bumped into her shoulder, "Bungo, don't worry I didn't forget about you."
She laughed; it was a musical sound that rang out clear as daylight. Fishing out the second apple she turned to give it to Bungo.
"What made you come back?" She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Thorin's rumbling voice ahead of her in the clearing.
She sighed in relief when she realised that she wasn't anywhere near him but was hidden by the thick treeline. Lostoriel didn't know what to make of his emotional reaction to her presence. Her head ached when she tried to remember why she had felt so pained in that moment. She wondered whether he had known her before, like Gandalf had?
"Looking behind." Came Gandalf's answer.
Lostoriel smirked, bathing in the joy that he was just as vague with them as he was with her.
One of the ponies whined, her heartbeat sped up as she hushed Bungo by giving him another apple.
"We don't want to get caught." She whispered to the pony.
Thorin's voice grew soft with emotion, "Where did you find her?"
There was a long pause in the conversation as Gandalf gathered his thoughts.
"A little way South of here, past the small stream that runs through this part of the woods. She was unconscious, lying in the rain. Had I not been led to her; she might have not survived the night."
Numbness ran across Lostoriel's body, guilt ate at her mind, but she couldn't stop listening to them. She had too many questions and too few answers.
"Led to her. How?" Thorin sounded desperate, almost hopeful.
"By two little birds whose call echoed through the woods. She's a Woodelf Thorin, the forest looks after her though she may not realise it."
Woodelf... I'm a Woodelf. The forest looks after me? It was all too much for her to take in and frankly it sounded like a load of nonsense to her. Lostoriel was about to turn away when she heard an answer to her own question.
"Gandalf. Is it really her?" Thorin's voice was barely above a whisper.
"It is." answered Gandalf sombrely.
"How Gandalf? Why now?"
"I do not know Thorin. The answers will be revealed soon. Here's is one thing I can tell you. She has no memory of her life in Middle Earth. No memory of me, or of you. Save for a few ingrained feelings."
Lostoriel felt nothing and everything all at once. She was frozen on the spot, every bone in her body ached. She heard Thorin's heavy footsteps recede into the woods.
"Do not lose hope my friend. Lostoriel's memory will come back in its own time." There was a pause before Thorin walked away again.
Lostoriel breathed in deeply, she hadn't realised that she'd been holding her breath for so long. The ground swayed under her feet, but that was just the anxiety that was building within her.
As Lostoriel quietly lead the ponies away, the cold realisation knocked the wind from her lungs.
She was and alone. Alone in a terrifying world with no one to turn to.
Hi everyone! Thank you so much for following and favouriting this story!And thank you for all the comments! Feel free to leave one as constructive criticism is always appreciated.
Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter! A huuuge Thank You to Lancelot 2.0 for being my Beta reader!