A cloudy night had descended upon Imladris, the silver light of the moon and stars was hindered by the heavy rainclouds that hung just above the mountains. All was silent save for the hissing and trickling of the waterfalls and rivers and single songbird that sang into the twilight. She scanned the depths and open land in search of them, but could see nothing save for a tiny, bobbing ball of yellow and a trail of caps making its way into the forest.
Good, she thought, they are well on their way.
As the twilight faded a lone, cloaked figure was perched upon the silver balcony railing, blending in the shadows high above from where the Council was to take place. Just close enough to hear what they were saying, but far enough that no one would notice her presence. At least that was what the figure had thought before Lady Galadriel sensed her observance and turned towards her giving smile somewhere between amusement and reprimand.
"He approaches." The Lady of Lorien's grave warning echoed in her mind just as Lostoriel could feel their grey presence trickling into her thoughts. Something about his power felt familiar.
"Why do you wait as a spy would to their quarry?"
Her right hand immediately reaching for the dagger that wasn't at her side, her grip loosing when she saw who stood in the dim light of the quiet alcove. Lostoriel lightly jumped from her perch, bowing her head towards the Istari. Lostoriel attempted to block her mind from his power, pushing back her knowledge of the Dwarves whereabouts and thinking instead of the glittering sky above her.
"Saruman the White. Forgive me I did not know it was you." her guard was up however.
She had never fully felt comfortable around the wizard, there had always been something off about him. The way he was overly confident and prideful in himself and the superior airs he wore like a crown when he spoke to Radagast had made her keep a wide berth from the wizard whenever he was around.
"I wait not as a spy," Lostoriel laughed innocently turning back to face the Valley drinking in the view, "I merely wished to watch the sky above, such a fine midsummer's eve should not be lost to a WoodElf." The lie rolling of her tongue like butter.
The white wizard came to stand a little ways next to her, clearing his throat. He was unconvinced, but Lostoriel wouldn't allow him to know a single thing about the Quest. He would not only try to stop them, but would undeniably send them packing to Ered Luin again and her on her way home.
"Your decision to go with them is folly." Saruman leaned on his staff, his beard swaying in the wind. The already wrinkled skin around his eyes scrunching up, reminding her of those tiny, triangular faced dogs that lived in the villages of men.
Cutting straight to the point then are we? It took considerable effort for her to not roll her eyes or walk away from him then and there.
"And how do you know that I have decided as such?" her voice came out stiffer than she intended it to be.
"Why else would you be standing here eaves dropping on a meeting of the white council?" he scowled, "Did you honestly think your presence amongst these Dwarves would go unnoticed? That your Dwarvish companions will survive? Do you honestly think they will be able to kill the beast? What happens if they do not? If you do not? Are you prepared to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds?"
Lostoriel played with her hands, she tensing ever so slightly under his scrutinising stare. The Elf said nothing, eyes fixated on the waterfalls on the other side of the Valley. Could he not ask one question at a time, or was he thoroughly incapable of such conversation?
He stepped closer to her circling him as a vulture to its prey. She could smell the musky, stale scent that accompanied him, his pearl white hair and beard fluttering in front of her eyes as he paced in a too-close circle.
"And if you do survive, how long will it be until Thorin Oakenshield goes mad like his grandfather and forgets you? How long will it be until he tries to take your life? An Elven princess, whose birthright died the moment she did. The very same one whose father rode away from aiding the Dwarves after the dragon attacked, it's almost laughable. The Dwarf runt will not hesitate to rid himself of your presence." he stood behind her, his warm breath on her ear, "After all he did leave you to die."
Lostoriel could almost hear the feral smile that split his face, the heavy pull of his magic stuck her to the ground, unable to move or speak. "You going on their little quest is folly. Other than them using you to slay the beast for them, why else do you think they take you with them?"
She refused to believe it. Thorin hadn't left her to die, he would have escaped to save his people. Insecurity flooded her senses, the rushing of her blood deafening all else. Surely they did not need her to do their dirty work for them? Surely she was not going only to die again?
Her brief moment of vulnerability was all Saruman needed to skim through her thoughts, absorbing all he needed like a sponge.
"You are afraid. For yourself and for your one." Saruman practically snarled at her, "Your love for that half-elven is fickle and weak. What do either of you stand to gain from it other than heartache and death? Do you honestly believe he will remain immortal for you?"
Lostoriel resisted the urge to punch the wizard who looked down his nose at her, she pulled herself from his grasp, her hands balled into fists for just a moment. Unclenching them so he would not use it as ammunition and glaring at him so fiercely that he stepped back.
"With all due respect Lord Saruman, my relationship with the son of Elrond is none of your concern. What you have to say of it is of little worry to me."
He snorted scornfully, "And you believe that the beloved Valar have brought you back for a reason. That you have purpose. Surely their benevolent selves would not let you do what they can? Are you sure they haven't returned you only to perish for good this time?"
Cold tendrils of fear began to wrap themselves around her heart, "Surely it could not be them who have brought you back?" the petrifying realisation of what he was implying hit her with the force of a mountain.
Lostoriel studied the Lady of the Wood from afar, her white dress flowed elegantly to the stone floor around her. The burning sunset turning her golden hair into flames of pink and orange. Lady Galadriel had not lied to her, neither had Lord Elrond or Mithrandir for that matter. Glorfindel would not have so readily armed and trained her had he not believed that she would survive. No she refused to believe that the forces of… darkness were behind her return.
"Silly girl. You cannot make this decision on your own, for all the wisdom of your long years you are truly unwise."
The Elleth had had enough of his pointless babbling, she stepped forward threateningly, her hands clenching and unclenching into fists.
"And you forget to whom you speak wizard!" she growled menacingly rising to her full height. Lostoriel was a full head shorter than the wrinkled wizard, but she now seemed to tower over him, the soft white light of the Eldar subtlety flickering about her. The foul scowl upon her face unnervingly reminded her of the ElvenKing. "It is not in yours or anybody else's capacity to make my choices for me. Now I will be relieving myself of your presence."
Lostoriel didn't waste another minute, she turned hot on her heels and briskly strode to the archway that led to the exit of the alcove. Her shoulders squared in dignity, as she paused looking over her shoulder at the infuriated wizard.
"And it is your majesty or highness Istari."
Saruman leaned on his staff, satisfied that he had managed to plant the consuming seed of doubt within her thoughts.
Lostoriel had stormed off to her bedroom, throwing open the door and hastily palming the wall for the light switch. Only to bite back a frustrated scream, five minutes later when she remembered that electricity didn't exist in Middle Earth.
She moved to her bed shoving the items of clothing and food provisions she had asked Aerinniel to get for her into her pack. Her shaking hands making it difficult to fold what she could. The pure fury and agitation of what Saruman had said consuming her.
He didn't know what he was talking about, he had no right to tell her what to do, what to feel. And had absolutely no jurisdiction to tell her that her love for Elrohir was fickle, or that the Valar and Lady Galadriel were wrong. "They sent you to earth and brought you back. It is not as he says it is. And no Lostoriel, the Dwarves are not using you."
She told herself as she closed the buckle at the bottom of her pack, setting it onto the bed to begin putting on the light armour that she would travel with.
"You know that they see more value in you with or without the warrior. They will succeed. They won't die." She tugged on the leather chest plate that Glorfindel had given her, clipping the strap together. But how can you be so sure about that? As for your birth right, your title now means nothing.
Lostoriel ignored the thought, slipping on her leather armbraces and then her sword belt. How do you know that Thorin won't succumb to the illness that lies over that treasure? If he does what keeps him from killing you?
The blood rushed from her limbs, making her body cold as she pulled her quiver over her head and made her way to the door. And what if you all should fail? Are you ready to shoulder the deaths of those who will die?
What if Saruman is correct? What if I am just a silly girl? What if I lose all I have come to love here because of this Quest?
Lostoriel paused, hand hovering just above the silver door handle. She stepped back, unable to shake the image of the GreenWood burning out of her mind.
No. I cannot do this.
Lostoriel and Bilbo stood silhouetted against the firelight burning from the lanterns around them. Both staring at the dramatic mural of the Last Alliance atop the balcony in Elrond's house. She had decided to bid farewell to Bilbo before he left with the Dwarves, she had spent the better part of the night biting her nails and contemplating whether she should or shouldn't go. She had spent weeks preparing for this treacherous journey, but after the doubt had won the battle, Lostoriel decided that remaining in Imladris may be the safer option for them all. Bilbo shifted the pack on his back wearing disappointment like a cloak.
"You're really not coming with us?" he broke the heavy silence first.
The elleth couldn't meet his eyes, her gaze firmly fixed on the image of Sauron towering over Isildor.
Lostoriel swallowed the growing lump in her throat, "No mellon-nin. I cannot do this. There is too much risk."
Bilbo's heart seemed to sink to the ground, he coughed uncomfortably, not sure what to say to her. After all the confidence and strength he had watched pour into her from their stay in Rivendell he would have been lying had he believed that he wasn't disappointed and confused as to why she now chose to remain behind.
He turned to her, holding out his small hand, "I believe that this is where we say farewell Lostoriel. It has been an honour to befriend you."
Lostoriel blinked back the hot tears that sat waiting behind her eyes, somewhere within her bones she knew that this was the wrong choice, but she refused to acknowledge it.
"As with you Master Baggins." She firmly shook his hand, the gesture was formal and hesistant. Lostoriel kept her gaze fixated on the floor.
The hobbit turned away, silently running down the stairs to catch up with the Dwarves. He paused in the doorway to the next hall, "Lostoriel!"
He looked up seeing only the harrowing mural and empty light floating through the air.
Bilbo Baggins firmly shut his mouth, his soft brown eyes filling with regret. With one last look at the vast halls of Elrond he turned on his heels and made for the exit.
Only once he left did Lostoriel dare to come out from the pillar she hid behind and made her way to her room. Ready to pack her bags to return to the Woodland Realm on her own, Saruman and Lord Elrond had been correct. Whether she had fought the dragon or not she had no business going with the Dwarves, she would only be a hindrance in their success. Should they fail the blood of hundreds would be on her hands.
Elrohir watched silently from the bottom of the stairs, he had stumbled upon them by mistake. She disappeared, shoulders sagged and her glow diminishing. He knew he had to do something to help her. No matter what they had said in their argument and despite how he felt , he knew that she had to do this.
The Dwarves and Bilbo were well on their way to the forest path that she and Gandalf had picked as the fastest route into the Wild. Gandalf had told, or rather drilled it into them that they had to leave around midnight should they want to make it out of the Valley before sunup.
The dark sky began to turn grey and pink to the East when Lostoriel finally decided to get up and don her travel clothes again. She winced as she remembered regretfully bidding farewell to Bilbo in the twilight and had hid like a coward from him when he called to her.
The fading moonlight glinted off her hair as she watched as the stars from her perch on the balcony railing. They called to her, urging her to go with the dwarves.
Perhaps it is best that the answers remain unknown. Lostoriel adjusted the quiver on her back, grabbing her bow and slinging it across her chest. Her heart beating wildly, her limbs itching with anticipation.
She could vaguely see the white figure of Lady Galadriel in the distance, standing at the edge of the pavilion where the council was taking place.
"Since when have you needed anyone else to believe in you except yourself? When has others opinions ever swayed your own? You cannot turn back now, no matter how much your heart desires. Lostoriel heard the elleth's voice in her mind.
"You must leave now!" Lady Galadriel's fair voice rang clear in her ears. The "what if's" in her mind were blocked out by the sounds of why not? She hadn't killed that slug, perhaps now was the best time to finish the job before he took anymore lives.
It was now or never. Adventure beckoned and nothing held her back as she leapt into the unknown.
She swung herself from the railing into the nearest tree, her limbs finding hand and footholds easily as she swung from branch to branch. She was a shadow flying through the trees steering clear of the Last Homely House and landing soundlessly on the railings of the high bridge leading to the stables. She hated to do this to Lord Elrond, but she had to. All had been in explained in the letter she had left for him, and in the letter she had left for Elrohir. She only hoped that they could forgive her.
She bounded over a staircase and onto another tree sliding down its branches and running like the very hounds of death were behind her, to the lower levels where the stables were quickly coming into view. No one heard or saw her coming, all that could be seen was a flash of green and brown whizzing through the sleeping city.
Lostoriel clambered down into the stables, sliding down the stone railings and dropping with a soft thud her knees bent to absorb the impact. She snuck in passed the stable hand who was lightly snoring next to a stunning chestnut coloured mare. She tried to stick to the shadows, but the horses were too observant for that to happen. Lostoriel began to speak calmly to them, asking them to be quiet for her.
Striding to the back of the stables where she knew Elrohir's stallion was, Lostoriel couldn't shake off the guilt and embarrassment that ate at her stomach, but Tallagor was the only horse who knew her and wouldn't readily throw her off his back. She stood there confused and panicked when the stallion was not in his bay, nor was Elladan's. She hadn't heard any horses leaving Imladris during the night.
Lostoriel was about to take the horse in the next bay when a small nut hit her shoulder, "What the?" she hissed spinning to the direction from where the projectile was thrown from. And freezing on the spot when another hit her squarely in the chest. Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she stared unbelievingly at Elrohir who stood between the two unsaddled dappled grey horses.
She counted to ten trying not to yell at the elf when he placed a finger on his lips and then pointed beyond her shoulder. Slowly she turned, hearing the stable keep stir behind her. Lostoriel moved silently towards Elrohir.
"What are you doing?" she hissed.
"No time to explain. Let's go." His voice serious as he held the side door open with his shoulder letting the horses pass through first.
Once they were out of the stables Lostoriel glared at him, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Helping you." He mounted Elladan's dappled grey mare, Gwedal. "No time to explain, the Council is almost over and Lindir and Erestor know the Dwarves are gone. Adar has asked them to look for you next."
Lostoriel nodded firmly swiftly jumping off the ground and onto the horse in one fluid movement. Tallagor threw his head back in excitement, smacking his hooves on the ground as he anticipated the freedom of riding bare backed. He could feel his rider's excitement as she trotted him next to his sister.
"Ready?" asked Elrohir, his hair flying in the morning wind.
"Ready."
"Bolt Gwedal!" he commanded his horse and shot off onto the broad pathway.
Lostoriel lightly grasped Tallagor's silver grey main, pressing her heels into his ribs. The horse needed no more direction as his muscles bunched up and he shot off like an arrow from the bowstring.
The horses sped up and down the bridges and pathways leading to the forest. The trees blurring around Lostoriel and Elrohir as she let Tallagor take control for a moment. Her one hand gripped his steely grey mane, whilst the other yanked her hood from her head. Laughing at the pure adrenaline and freedom she felt as the stallion flew through the woods.
Elrohir stole a glance at her, a smile breaking on his face. This was the Lostoriel he remembered. Carefree and wild, every bit as Silven as her mother was. He pulled his hair loose from its fabric tie, letting it fly out behind him. Lostoriel laughed at his antics, watching as his plan backfired and his hair flew into his face, leaving him to sputter about as the wind kept pushing it over his eyes.
Their horses picked up on their rider's excitement. The pair of Elves lessened the pressure from their heels spurring their horses to carry them out of the forest and onto the mountain path ahead. Tallagorn whinnied when they broke free of the trees, Lostoriel let him run freely until they made it halfway up the mountain pass. From here on the pass could only be travelled on by foot, the wide path narrowed until it was just wide enough for one person to walk on at a time before it opened into the Wild lands.
She trotted him for a bit before dismounting, thanking him for his help when she placed her forehead on his snout.
Elrohir dismounted, not worried about their horses wondering off as they were well trained to obey their riders.
He turned to face Lostoriel, a range of emotions stretching over his face. "I was wrong to say what I did and I will not ask you for forgiveness. I know that I don't deserve it."
He stepped towards her, taking her cold hands in his and slipped a ring on her middle finger on her left hand. Lostoriel nearly laughed at the old, faded metal twisted in the rough pattern of intertwining branches. She had made this for him years ago when the world was slightly fairer and they were younger.
"All I would ask is that if you see the door to Mandos that you would fight with all and every ounce of life that you have within you." His voice trembled with fear and love. "Come back to us, please."
Lostoriel's eyes shone with unshed tears as the sun slowly peaked between the mountains. She closed the distance between Elrohir and herself.
Placing her hands on his shoulders and forehead on his, she looked up earnestly into his soft eyes. "I don't resent you for feeling so Elrohir. I will come back."
She kissed him deeply, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair, his wrapping around her back pulling her into him, not wanting to let her go. She melted into him, whilst his hand caressed her cheek. They stood for a moment longer, savouring every second of time. Elrohir was the first to pull away, he cupped her face between his hands.
"I love you Lostoriel. You need to go now if you want to reach them before nightfall." He kissed her forehead one last time.
"I love you too meleth-nin." Smiling lovingly she placed a hand over his heart, feeling its rapid beat on her palm. "Tell your Adar that I am sorry for leaving in this manner and Estel to forgive me without saying goodbye." She paused ready to leave, looking him dead in the eyes.
The unspoken message was clear on her face, don't die if I don't come back.
She saw the hesitation upon his face and looked at him imploringly, the urgency apparent in her voice, "Promise me."
He let go of her hands, moving to remove the quiver from his back and emptying the arrows into her quiver. "I won't Toriel. I promise."
Elrohir came to stand before her, looking at her as if she were the very stars themselves. Awe and wander filling his grey eyes, "Now, I believe you have a dragon to slay."
"Thank you Elrohir." She grinned at him before steeling one last kiss and turning in the opposite direction and took off running up the mountainside. "Don't get up to too much mischief whilst I'm gone."
Her voice carried down on the wind and he laughed, the sound every bit as lyrical as she remembered. "I won't!"
He stood watching as she made it up the snaking path, the sunlight glinting off her dirty blonde hair and sword. Elrohir's heart swelled, then deflated knowing that he may never see her again, but confident that she wouldn't perish so easily. She would once again walk the forests of her home and of his.
Once she had disappeared over the ridgeline into the thick forests above, the elf turned and led the horses back down to Imladris, sighing. He had a lot of explaining to do.
Lostoriel paced herself as she scaled the winding path, full of large bends and shifting sand. She could hear the footsteps of the last of the dwarves ahead of her. They must've passed through the borders already. Exhilaration filled her body, all the anxiety she had felt in Imladris melting away with the last frost of the morning.
Her booted feet carried her lightly in the orange morning light. She had finally made it to the top of the path her heart sunk as she stopped to drink it all in for the last time .The peaceful sanctuary tucked itself away beneath the falls and mountains. She was leaving her heart here with Elrohir, Estel and her family in Imladris. But the world beckoned to her. She could hear the mountains and valleys shouting her name. The song she had heard in her memory the previous night echoed in her mind.
"Farewell." With that she was on her way again as the sun stretched over the valley walls.
"Master Baggins, I suggest you keep up." She heard Thorin's distant cold call to Bilbo. A wide grin plastered itself on her face. She was nearly with them.
The dwarves had moved quicker than she anticipated they would. They were well on their way onto the wild when she had only just passed through the borders of Imladris.
Lostoriel slowed to a walk for fifteen minutes before starting up into a paced jog for another thirty. Keeping her eyes upon the ground as he tracked the slight path they had worn through the dense forest. The strong scent of pine intoxicated her and made her run even faster.
She kept up this pace until the sun began to dip below the horizon and she found herself near the edge of the treeline. Lostoriel heard the sounds of their camp being made, the fire roared to life and someone was chopping wood nearby.
She caught sight of Dwalin and Bofur circling the perimeter of their small camp, hidden away in a meadow of wildflowers. Their axes held firmly in their hands as they gazed into the hazy darkness. She would have to play it carefully from here on, unless she wanted to be beheaded.
Lostoriel readjusted her quiver and strapped her sword to her waist before bolting up into the trees. Sneaking towards the camp like a green and brown wraith. When she came within earshot of Dwalin's breathing she let her cloak fly out behind her, and stepped purposefully incorrectly on a branch to get a loud creak from it.
"Someone's watching." Growled Dwalin.
Then she let herself be seen. Her hood showed only the protrusion of her chin, her long, thick cloak made her blurred figure in the trees. She was enjoying toying with them.
"There!" Quietly pointed Bofur towards left.
"Where? I see nothing."
"It was just there." The brown – haired dwarf scanned the trees, searching for the figure that had jumped from one tree to the next.
"Kili come here!" hissed Dwalin swinging his axe over his shoulder.
Kili appeared into the dim light holding his bow loosely in his hand, his brows furrowed together, "What's going on?"
"Bofur saw a figure in the trees, we might be watched." The bald dwarf looked again, a look of pure murder on his face. It was then that Lostoriel decided to leap from the thick branch and land softly behind Fili, holding her dagger against his neck. He knew the move and wouldn't harm her if he realised it was her.
Multiple startled cries came from the camp causing their hearts to ice over as they saw Fili being held against the figure, a short dagger held to his throat.
The dwarves were up in arms, each of them glaring at the hooded man. From what they could see he was lightly armed with wood- brown, leather a bow and sword on their persons and a short dagger peaking from beneath their green grey tension was so thick that Bilbo dared not breathe.
"Who are you? And what do you want?" Growled Thorin.
Fili recognised the scent of trees and lavender that arose from the figure holding the sword limply in front of him. Long, blond hair fell across his shoulder, the pieces fell into place and he quickly used her fixation on Thorin to unsheathe his sword and knock hers clean out of her hands.
"Lostoriel!" He quickly held the knife to her neck instead.
She raised an impressed eyebrow, smirking at him, "That wasn't too bad."
A collective sigh of relief came from the company as they all lowered their swords and axes. Lostoriel pushed her hood from her face, scoping out a mix of unamused glares and toothy grins from the dwarves.
Dwalin looked as if he was going to kill her then and there. Fire burned beneath his dark eyes and his grip on his axe only tightened. His heavy, guttural accent thickened as he got angrier. "Why you sneaky little elflng! You nearly scared us halfway t' death! You're lucky I didn't crack your head open with my axe."
Lostoriel sheathed her sword, showing Dwalin that both her hands were weapon free, "Well thank you for not doing so. Sorry about the fright." A sheepish smile on her face.
Dwalin merely grunted, he thought there was far too much mirth in her voice for his liking.
"Oi lassie you came!" Balin exclaimed coming cheerfully, albeit wearily towards her all too aware of his younger brother's eagerness to remove her head from her shoulders. He placed a welcoming hand on her shoulder, the gesture was awkward for the eldery Dwarf since he had to stand on his toes to do so. The elf replied in suit, smiling warmly down at him.
"Of course I did! Didn't think I'd leave you lot to have all the fun without me now did you?"
"Not for a second lass."
"Oh that reminds me!" Lostoriel dropped her pack to the ground and rummaged inside for the contract. Her hands puttering blindly across the soft cloth of her clothing and the flask of Miruvor Aerinniel had slipped in the previous day until she tugged on the folded parchment from the bottom of her bag.
She was met with a mixture of warm welcomes and suspicious looks, when she rose mainly from Dori and Dwalin and Thorin.
The latter of which met her eyes with such a fiery gaze that the smile immediately died upon her lips. He marched passed the fire to stand before her, his abnormal height letting him come face to face with her shoulders. Lostoriel however took a tentative step back, he held himself regally and confidence oozed off him with the authority of a king.
"I thought you were staying in Rivendell." He stated dryly, already on edge by being out in the Wild, but more so now that she was here.
"Plans changed."
"Why did you come? We don't need your help. Much less the help coming from the child of the king who let our people die." Growled Dwalin taking a threatening step forward. For all Gandalf's high praise of her character he wasn't swayed, the elves had no business involving themselves in their quest. This one may have fought off the beast, but it didn't mean Dwalin had to like her.
"I came because you asked." Lostoriel nodded towards Thorin, "Here." She met their eyes holding out the parchment.
Thorin snatched it out her hand, eyeing her suspiciously as he unfolded it and skimmed right to the bottom where her signature was scrawled just under Balin's. His face stoic features broke into a scowl, "How come you by this?"
"Balin gave it to me."
He turned with burning eyes to the greying dwarf, his voice riddled with annoyance and exasperation, "Balin. I thought we agreed..."
The old dwarf came to stand next to the elf, giving Thorin such a stare that it reminded him of his father reprimanding him, "We did, but this was Gandalf's orders. He said we'd be fools not to take her along. Thorin-"
Thorin said nothing, he handed the parchment to her and stood inches away from her face. When he had signed this contract he was under the impression that one of his dwarves had lost theirs, Balin's reasoning meant nothing to him, he had lied to him. Even Gandalf had tried to persuade him, but he was still hesitant to let her come. He knew he couldn't protect her, he knew the risk she was taking again. Thorin did not know if he was ready to shoulder that guilt again, that longing, that sorrow.
"I don't want you travelling with us. You'll draw too much attention towards us have no new knowledge of these lands. The world is much changed since last you walked it Lostoriel."
Lostoriel felt the anger bubble within her. One moment he wanted her there and the next he didn't. However she was determined to travel with them, whether Thorin liked it or not.
"What happened to "are you with us?"" she held up two fingers whilst she repeated his words from their first night in Imladris. Lostoriel could feel his warm breath on her cheek.
"I changed my mind." He used the same sarcastic tone she had.
"So what do you expect me to do now? Surely you will need the assistance of one who had fought the dragon before?"
"And for that we have Gandalf. Why should we take your help? Your father turned his back on us, why should we use the services of his daughter who unexpectedly returns just as we begin our quest?" he pointed an accusing finger at her, "Tell me, what prevents you from selling us out? The wealth that lies beneath that mountain is the birthright of my people.
Lostoriel huffed, rolling her eyes, he was impossible. "I am not my father Thorin, in case you are forgetting. If it wasn't for me you would be dead."
He had had enough of her, he squared his shoulders and came towards her. "And if it wasn't for you then Smaug would be dead."
Lostoriel inched forward, the insult burning into her heart. Her nose nearly touched his, "You have no right to say that. I don't care about gold or jewels, all I want is that dragons' head waving from a pole."
If she wasn't anything like her father, he wouldn't have continued pushing for her to go back to Imladris. He inwardly sighed, turning his eyes to the heavens. There would be no winning with this elf.
"Fine. Stay." He conceded none to gently, slapping the parchment onto her shoulder, "But my men will not be responsible for your fate should it lay in our hands. Defend your own and we'll defend ours. As for your fifteenth share. Well that would remain to be negotiated once the dragon is slain."
Thorin brushed passed her, stalking off to the outskirts of the camp, Dwalin hot on his heels.
Lostoriel sighed, the rage slowly seeped from her veins as she calmed herself down. She had a long and perilous journey ahead of her. The sheer stubbornness of Thorin might just kill her before the dragon did.
Bilbo gently tapped her arm, holding out a bowl of stew, "So you decided to come after all?"
The pair moved off to one side of the small fire pit, Lostoriel ensured that they seated themselves at a safe distance from the open flames. The pair busied themselves with eating the thick, mutton broth with slices of bread from Imladris, Lostoriel relished in the tantalising flavour. Not sure if this would be the last hot meal she would have in the long months to come.
Bilbo did the same, though she suspected it was because his body was still adjusting to eating only three meals that day. He had spent an entire afternoon telling her about the seven different Hobbit eating times. It was a wonder that they had time for anything else.
Halfway finished with the soup Lostoriel answered him, her voice soft, she knew that a few of the dwarves were listening. "Yes I did."
"Did what?" asked Bilbo, crumbs of bread falling from his hand.
"I came on the Quest." She explained slowly, tearing a piece of bread in half.
"What made you change your mind?"
The quiet moment between the two friends was broken when Fili and Kili plonked themselves around Lostoriel. Fili on the floor at her feet and Kili next to her, his knee digging into her hip.
"So you're a spy then?" abruptly asked Fili, nearly causing her to spill the broth Bombur had made all over her leggings. He shared the same smug look on his face as Kili, both their lips pulled into a slight smirk with one brown and one blonde eyebrow arched in curiosity.
"I'm not a spy." She rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"But you're a scout, it's basically the same thing." Piped up Kili,
"It is not the same thing. Who told you this?"
"Gandalf." They answered in unison, all too pleased that they had squeezed the information out of her.
Whenever that wizard decided to catch up with them, she was going to have a firm conversation with him about what he told these dwarves about her.
The hobbit patted his damp hands onto his pants, his inner Baggins implored him to go and find a suitable cloth to do so, but the Took within him reasoned that it would dry relatively quickly. He was returning to camp after having needed to relieve himself since they set up camp, but was not comfortable with the dwarves seeing his... bits. They were brutish and not afraid to comment rather honestly about things. It reminded him of his peevish cousin Lobelia and her even more so annoying husband Otho.
Silently he thanked himself for the hundredth time for remembering to pack extra soap as he had found a stream nearby to wash off his hands. And for making it out of the Shire without his tyrant of a cousin noticing. He crept into the meadow under the pale light of the moon and his ears were immediately assailed with the heavy snores of the dwarves and the soft cackling of the dying fire. The sky above was a deep shade of black, the stars vailed by thin wisps of cloud, it couldn't have been later than midnight.
He stretched before collapsing into his sleeping bag again, muttering to himself about the comforts of Rivendell he already missed. It had barely been one night and he wished to be back in the comfortable bed he had had there. Lord Elrond's offer to remain in his home echoed in his mind.
Bilbo sighed shuffling onto his side, he could leave now and they wouldn't even be bothered. But he had made a commitment, resolved his Tookish side, he was finally doing something great. Something worthwhile which his mother would have praised him for. That was if being a burglar was something great. Other than ruining the perfectly good name of Baggins, he wasn't sure what it entailed in the first place,
The hobbit shifted again this time onto his left side, unable to get comfortable on the hard ground. He scowled, irritated that he hadn't been able to sleep. Bilbo's weary eyes flew open and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he stared into the unblinking eyes of Lostoriel.
The elf had been asleep for hours and had she moved from the curled position she slept in. "Lostoriel."
He whispered, his body shaking gently, she hadn't been sick, nor had she been injured. Why her eyes were open?
"Lostoriel?" He hissed, louder this time, but still she didn't move. Bilbo's body froze, his inability to sleep forgotten whilst he numbly clutched his blanket.
"Lostoriel wake up!" Panic thickened his voice, his mind whirred, and he didn't know what do to.
"Lostoriel!" He hissed once again inching closer to her, she breathed shallowly. Her breaths coming irregularly. Bilbo inhaled sharply, he needed help. Fili was the closest to him and always seemed to know what to do.
He tiptoed over to him, shaking the dwarf from his sleep. "Fili!"
No response. He shook him again, harder this time, "Fili get up! I need your help!" He nearly shouted when the dwarf sprung awake, eyes ready and alert.
"What's happened Bilbo?" He placed a comforting hand on Bilbo, his wild eyes darting around the small clearing looking for any signs of danger.
"It's Lostoriel. Something's wrong, her eyes are open and she hasn't blinked and her breathing is slow. Much too slow. "I didn't know who to call for help, she it... it looks like she's ..." The hobbit sucked in a well needed shaky breath, unwilling to finish his mortifying thought.
Fili's heart knocked in his chest, elves didn't get sick, nor was this one injured. He shot up, bringing Bilbo with him, "Alright, you go wake up Oin and I'll check on her."
Bilbo nodded and sped off to the other side of the fire where the old dwarf was snorting contently, albeit loudly.
Fili on the other hand had woken up Kili and the pair sat on either side of the elf, tired eyes looking at her in worry. She looked unconscious, holding on limply to the dagger on her chest. She didn't stir when Kili put his fingers on her wrist under her armbrace to check her pulse.
However she was very much aware of it, but wasn't ready to show them that she was awake, not just yet. Lostoriel had only been asleep for half an hour, trying to rest was like attempting to read a book in the midst of a forge. Their deep, throaty and nasal snores were the base notes to the symphony of the night, falling on drums like hammers to anvils. They added an irregular and irritating rhythm to the songs of the crickets and night birds of the forest.
Bilbo returned with a calm Oin, the rest of the dwarves sensing the air of impending news which stirred them from their loud slumbers. They all gathered in a tight circle around the elf, shoulders pressed against each other, confused and bleary eyed curiosity and concern on their faces.
Oin bent over her face, listening to her slow breathing, he then placed his ear just below her collar bone to listen to her heart beat. Which was also slow, too slow for his liking. Lostoriel smelt the mint and sharp menthol scent that accompanied the old dwarf, his silver grey hair tickled her nose. It tooj everything within her not to sneeze, she didn't want to be responsible for giving the healer a heart attack.
"Is she dead?" Asked Nori, never one to be subtle.
Bifur gasped muttering something worriedly in Khuzdul to Bofur who nodded, "Aye brother you're right, she was fine earlier."
"Bilbo did you find her like this?" Came Ori's soft question, his eyes already glistening with tears.
"I... I did... But she was sleeping peacefully when I got to bed. I don't understand..."
Oin laid back on his heels, hands resting on his legs, he had no idea what was causing the elf to lose consciousness. Her pallor was a healthy shade of cream, her hands were warm and her pupils dilated when he moved his hands above her eyes.
"What's going on?" Rumbled Thorin pushing his way through the small crowd and kneeling next to Oin.
"We're not sure. Bilbo said he found her like this." He gestured at her slack form with unsure hand gestures.
Thorin blanched, he may have hated her, but she was still once his friend. He pressed two fingers just below her chin and felt her heartbeat jolt. Her eyes unglazed and he nearly smirked, she was playing an old favourite of hers.
Just as he was about to shake her, Lostoriel grabbed his wrist and several sharp gasps and shouts of delightful phrases that would make their mother's blush, came from the dwarves. Thorin rolled his eyes, an amused smile flashing on his stoic features before he covered it up with an unimpressed scowl. Rising from her side he tried to ignore the way he had jumped in fright when she had grabbed his wrist.
Lostoriel winked at him, for a moment their argument hadn't mattered, nor did their differences. They were old friends again. Then the moment was gone as quickly as it had arrived when he hastily got up to dust his pants and stalk off to his bedroll. He was still furious with her for tagging along on their Quest, but he couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face.
"You sneaky little-" began Dwalin, a laugh escaping through his scowl. That seemed to be his favourite, but weak insult.
"You're not dead!?" Shouted Bilbo and Dori at the same time.
Lostoriel sat up, looking smug, "Of course I'm not dead! I was sleeping perfectly well until you, "she gave a pointed look at Kili and then at FIli "and you came and disturbed me."
The dwarf brothers tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it. She had played a good trick on them, no matter how morbid it was.
"You feigned dying well." Oin sat there still clutching his chest, "and gave me the fright of my life you flighty elf!"
Lostoriel gave him an apologetic look, placing a comforting hand on his, "my apologies Oin, I meant no harm."
The dwarf wagged a crooked, telling finger at her, "It's alright. You're not unconscious that's all that matters."
It was Bilbo's turn to shout at her, "You sleep with your eyes open? And then you go and give us lot a fright!"
"Peace mellon-nin. I should've warned you all before I rested." Lostoriel bit back her laugh, their surprised faces were enough to make her double over with laughter. "Unlike mortals we elves don't have the need to close our eyes to sleep. Unless we're exhausted or injured."
"Or dead?" Asked Fili.
"Or dead." Lostoriel nodded, schooling her features, "Don't worry, you're not the first to be frightened by it."
"You scared us there lass." Bofur patted her shoulder, content that everything was fine and decided to catch the last few hours of sleep he could.
"My apologies, now. If you'd all leave me to sleep."
They shared a hearty laugh and left the elf and bewildered hobbit in peace.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully, only the brash snorting of the dwarves added to the symphony of night noises in the woods. And sleep had decided to evade Lostoriel. She turned in her sleeping roll for the sixth time since she had tried to fall off to sleep after the dwarves' unfortunate scare. Each time she had barely closed her eyes when a snorting, disgusting snore belted out into the night from one of the dwarves. She had half the mind to take off her socks and shove it in their mouths.
It's like sleeping in a mill. She thought ruefully as she grabbed strapped her armour unto her body. Picking up her quiver and bow and walking to where Nori was on watch.
"Can't sleep?" He didn't bother turning to look at her.
"No. Anything unusual?" She sat by him on the rock propping her bow on her lap.
"No. Other than those blurry shapes on the horizon nothing." He pointed a gloved hand to a mountaintop through the treeline, Lostoriel couldn't make out what it was from the ground and jumped up stalking towards the trees.
"What are you doing?" He whispered.
"Going to get a better view."
Not waiting a moment longer she hoisted herself onto the lowest branches of the tree. Climbing easily between the long branches, her feet barely making a sound as she hopped from one branch to the next.
Soon she was high enough to be out in the open air. The world was covered in black and blue shadow, all was silent from up here. The breeze brushed past her, sending her long hair fluttering to one side. From here she could see the mountains surrounding Rivendell, the river Bruinen snaking through the landscape and the misty mountains in the near distance.
Their snowy caps glowing dark blue in the night. A faint howl caught her ears, she immediately reached for an arrow, holding it against the bowstring as she watched a tiny group of figures vanish over a mountain top. The howls had carried across the deep ravines, they were wargs.
The blood rushed about in her head, deafening her, the dwarves hadn't noticed anything in their sleep, but Thorin and Nori had. So he's still a light sleeper then, she tucked that information away for later use.
Lostoriel bounded down the tree, afraid that any noise she made would be heard from the travelling pack below. Though she knew that was ridiculous, they were too far away for her keen elven eyes to differentiate between warg and orc.
Lightly she ran towards Thorin and Nori who had extinguished the fire to a pile of smouldering ash. Thorin turned to her, "What did you see?"
"A warg pack no less than four. Though I saw other figures with them. Maybe five or six."
To this he nodded, absorbing the information. Lostoriel imagined that she could hear the cogs and wires in his brain ticking to decide what their next move was to be. And yet, it still didn't stop him from looking at her as if she were evil incarnate.
"We leave at first light, make sure that no one starts the fire. We don't need to draw unwarranted attention." He gave them both a pointed look.
He marched back into the meadow, all shoulders and legs, though she noticed how he rubbed his wrists. He was nervous.
For the rest of the night Lostoriel circled around the camp at a distance, Thorin wasn't yet trustful enough to let her take over the night watch, but Fili who had taken Nori's place was grateful for the company.
Keeping her hood up and moving towards four different points every half an hour or so. Lostoriel hoped to cover all angles to which they might be attacked. As her eyes scanned the forest she couldn't help but think of Elrohir and then of her father and brother. Wondering how they would react to her coming home, if she even remained alive for that long. That orc pack in the distance made that possibility all too real.
Whatever peace she had felt in Imladris now boiled down to a simmer within her. They were now in the Wild. Alone, vulnerable and exposed.
It was the way her chilling conversation with Saruman had been that evening, what he had said about the dwarves using her, about her not being brought back by the Valar it all played on her mind now. As the night darkened around her so did her thoughts.
What a lovely position to be in, sarcastically thought Lostoriel sighing heavily thinking about Thorin and his distaste for Elves and now for her. She wasn't prepared to speak to him about it, or to fight with him, no she needed to earn their trust first. Which seemed like a distant possibility, they were frightened, mostly Dori, or angered by her. Befriending Dwarves was no easy feat.
Though most of them may not like her, she only had one goal in mind and they weren't going to stop her.
Lostoriel fiddled with the metal ring upon her finger, the coolness of it and feel of the leaves on her skin calmed her. Just then Bombur's pig-like snore cut through her thoughts, she grimaced watching a few fireflies fluttering in between his lips. It was definitely going to be a long, long journey.
Hello again!
I uhmm made a few edits in chapters 8 and 9: They're not too hectic, I just changed the name of the blacksmith in Imladris to "Idhron" because i used the wrong name, ( this is what happens when one edits at midnight,) and the elf Thalion...well let's just say he's important...
A huge, bear sized thank you to Lancelot 2.0 who beta read this chapter like twice and inspired the scene with Saruman ! Thank you, he felt neglected...
Anyway, thank you for the lovely reviews from last chapter and to all of you awesome humans who've favourited and followed this story! It doesn't go unappreciated!
If you enjoyed this chapter feel free to leave a review!
Until next time, I hope you all enjoyed the contentment and happiness, it's not gonna last very long...(mwhahahaha)