He swung up into the trees, running lightly on the branches and notching an arrow to his bow, pulling it back, aiming and shooting in a split second. The arrow cut through the air, it's silver-grey fletching catching the dim light of the forest and piercing the enormous spider before it could swing on its web to the elf.

"Legolas! Duck!" An ebony haired elf shouted as she leapt from the higher branches and landed on a spider about to sting her friend from behind. Thankfully Legolas managed to swing himself down from the branch and onto a lower one as he did so he pulled an arrow from his quiver and shot the spider from below. The elf above, Renieth brought her heavy sax knife down into its skull which was received with a shrill scream as she cut the long line of web attached to its bottom, sending the spider to the forest floor with a sickening crunch.

Legolas nocked an arrow to his bowstring and shot without seeming to aim, the black shaft darted through the air and impaled the spider that was bearing over Renieth as she slid on the thick branch. Her knife flashing in the pale sunlight and tearing a deep gash through the spider's body. The arachnid screeched as it fell listlessly to the ground.

The sounds of iron to flesh and metal to stinger rang across the thick copse of trees the two patrols of elves were fighting. Their long hair flying out behind them as they twirled and stabbed at the vile creatures that were hell bent on killing them and then eating them for lunch. Their swords and arrows nothing more than a series of silver flashes that were stained black with spider blood under the canopy.

Legolas clutched onto a strand of web that was still attached to a particularly horrific spider. He wrapped his wrist around it and allowed himself to descend using the thick webbing as a rope. He managed to land a top the spider driving his knife into its skull before using its upturned stinger as a platform to run on and bounce back into the trees.

Already he had an arrow on his bow string, pulled back and ready to fire when the entire forest literally bowed and a soft, tender voice filled his ears.

Legolas gasped, his head spinning as the voice grew louder. The entire fight came to a halt, spiders and elves alike when a warm gush of wind bent the trees in one direction.

Then he heard the song. Her song. A small spark flickered in his breast, his eyes darted all around him. A hope, a warmth he had not felt in decades. The grey, black trees that were charred by evil sprung to life, golden light steamed into the forest, bird song filled his ears and flowers, hundreds of flowers surrounded him. The song grew louder and flowed within him. Legolas leant back into the lush grass within his memory, feeling them everywhere.

Then the air caught him in its thin grasp and he fell listlessly to the damp forest floor.

After a hearty breakfast of leftover stew and the last few pieces of bacon the Company was off onto the road again. Many of them were still quite grumpy from their unnerving discovery in the wee hours and were hardly in the mood for talking. Especially to the elf who hardly flushed pink from her twisted idea of a prank. The dwarves didn't look at her the same way after she had scared them witless, but they gotten what they deserved after waking her from a much needed rest

The sun was slowly reaching its zenith, warming up the crisp air and open plains that they trekked through. They had made good time out of the forest and into the open hills that stretched for miles before they rose into great peaks in the Misty Mountains.

Lostoriel grimaced as she saw the foggy peaks piercing just below the horizon line. She had always disliked this part of the journey between the east and west of middle earth. The mountains were a land of their own, with unpredictable weather, caves so deep and dark that one could easily get lost and passes so similar and yet so different that one could accidentally end up in Rohan instead of at the feet of the greenwood.

Absentmindedly she gingerly rubbed her left arm, she had had another memory of Smaug just before her watch was over. Though this time it had been different, this time the blurry shape of Thorin had been there and the song she had heard when sitting with Lady Galadriel had played in her mind.

Lostoriel sighed, she spent hours trying to figure out who the voice belonged to and what it had to do with Thorin out of all people. Her mind began to wonder about her father again and her brother, she had begun to see their faces more clearly in her memory and had realised with a sinking feeling just how much she missed them.

No one had told her what to expect should she return to the GreenWood, or Mirkwoodas she heard the Dwarves call it. She had no idea who would still be alive, or if they would take her in with open arms. The elf pushed these thoughts aside when she looked up and found herself in the wide, yellow lush country side. The land was dotted with patches of trees and worn paths that led in all directions in the long, sharp grass. They had a long way to go until they reached the mountains.

Lostoriel glanced behind her, watching as Bilbo turned once again to gaze at the distant sight of the border forests of Imladris. Every inch of his body radiated longing, he looked as if he could have bolted back into the humble valley without a second thought. And Thorin was beginning to notice. She could see his scowl and agitation from her space at the back of the column. He wasn't going to get his chance to berate the hobbit. Not today.

Instead of staring him down she walked to Bilbo, lending him a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It seems so far away now." He sighed.

Lostoriel didn't answer for a long while, sucking in a strengthening breath, she knew exactly what he meant. The peace of the valley called to her too, Elrohir and his brothers and the security of the known. But they had to move on.

Gently she turned him away, keeping an arm across his shoulders as best she could from her height. "Come. We should catch up with the rest."

"What if we go back?"

"Where?"

"To Rivendell."

Lostoriel swallowed a sticky lump in her throat, "We could. But we made a promise."

The pair paced back to the Company in silence, Lostoriel was worried about him. He had barely said a word all morning and had picked morosely at his breakfast. She hadn't failed to notice how his eyes continually glanced in the direction of Imladris.

"You're right. I will miss it though. Rivendell and the Elves." Bilbo smiled up at her, popping a thumb under his bag strap, the other clutching white-knuckled on his walking stick. "And Estel, he reminds me of myself when I was little. How long will it take Gandalf to reach us?" he hastily changed the subject.

The elf raised a surprised eyebrow, looking down at the Hobbit and then out onto the blue and grey mountains in the distance. "I'm not sure, two or three days perhaps. Depending on how fast he can track us. How so does Estel remind you of yourself?"

"Oh. Two or three days." Bilbo let out a low whistle, he had begun to enjoy the wizard's company, though he was loathe to admit it. His's face softened, an air of nostalgia fell upon them as he thought of little Estel, who had dragged him off to show him his favourite spots around the Valley.

"I was very much like him. I asked so many questions a day that my father bribed me with ginger biscuits just to get me to be quiet for a moment. Always running off to explore the Old Forest, pretending I was some knight from a fairy tale travelling on grand adventures to discover Elves and goblins and talking trees."

Lostoriel raised a surprised and perfectly arched eyebrow, "And did you?"

"No, not until now. My mother would've been most impressed with me. Going on this venture, stepping out my front door. She always said I'd find myself out in the world if I spent more time with Gandalf." He paused, his excitement dulling when he thought of his mother, his loving mum. And then of Thorin's open hostility towards him, "Do you think I've made the right choice?"

Lostoriel considered his query for a long moment, the silence carrying them over the next ridge and into a shallow valley. "I think that only you know that Bilbo, deep within your gut. Trust that feeling, it won't lead you astray." She flashed him a smile, "So tell me more about your mother, she seems like quite an adventurous hobbit."

"Oh she was."

That evening they made camp in the shadows of the mountains. The snow- capped peaks laid barely a day away and the deep, tumbling valley of the Misty Mountains stretched below them. In the hazy yellow distance of the south Lostoriel could see Caradhras's golden tip peaking from the clouds and to the North the permanent blanket of white that folded and rose with every breath of the mountains.

Lostoriel pulled at the soft piece of dried meat in her hand, whilst Bilbo bit miserably into an apple, he had been skulking since an icy wind had been blowing down from the peaks. He had not spoken much throughout the day, the comforts of BagEnd played on his mind. And soon he found himself longing for his soft bed and wanting nothing more than to be curled up in his armchair with a book in his hands.

His elven companion on the other hand seemed fixated on the delicious, heavily spiced scent of rabbit stew wafted into her nostrils and sent her stomach rumbling. She looked guilty down at her stomach that insisted on wailing like a child and instead turned her attention to Bofur who sat a little ways off from the group around the fire, studying a locket in his hand with a yearning expression on his usually happy face.

"What's got you down?"

He turned towards her, his dull eyes meeting hers, "Just thinking of those I've left at home."

Lostoriel sensed he wasn't finished and let him carry on, he held out the locket for her to see. Three miniature drawings were neatly lain in three individual frames that collapsed into each other when closed.

She studied them carefully, trying to discern each of the bearded dwarves from the other. The one to the left with a necklace on her neck must've been his wife, the other two his children.

"This here is my wife. He pointed to the middle frame," Lostoriel blanched, dwarves and their dwarrow dames looked so similar that it was difficult to tell them apart until they stood before one's eyes, "this lass Greta and my lad Brock."

"They're beautiful."

He smiled proudly, his voice sounding wistful, "Aye they are. I can't wait till I see them again. Show them the vast halls of our people."

Lostoriel handed the locket back to him, closing his fingers around it, "And you will get the chance to Bofur."

"Who do you have, to go back to?" Asked Fili around a bite of bread, forgetting his manners completely as a spray of crumbs flew from his mouth getting stuck in his short beard.

The elf sat for a moment in silence not quite sure how to answer the question, not sure if she even had anything to go back to. Finally she answered, "Just my father and brother."

"What about your mam?" Inquired Ori, his voice quiet and sombre, followed by a loud smack and muttering and then a yelp of pain from the Dwarf.

"Dori do leave him alone." Scolded Lostoriel whilst she eyed out Dori, "My mother died when I was an elfling."

Silence fell over the small company, "We didn't mean to..." began Balin from his spot at the other end of the lose circle they sat in.

Lostoriel smiled, but it never reached her eyes, "It's alright Balin. It was a long time ago."

They sensed that she didn't want to go any further. Kili came to sit with her, his knee once again digging into her side, though she didn't mind. "So you have a brother?"

"Yes I do. And older one in fact."

Fili plonked himself at her feet, leaning against her propped legs, "You're a baby sister." He sang, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"So you know what a pain in the behind older brothers can be." Kili wriggled his neatly trimmed eyebrows and kicked Fili's hand away from his leg.

"Oh so I'm the pain in your behind. Goodness! And here I was thinking that I had a ratty little brother." He ruffled his brother's hair, and flashed his eyebrows, "So it's only you two?"

As Lostoriel watched the brothers bicker her chest filled with warmth. A watery smile touched her lips and died away just as quickly when she realised just how much she missed Legolas and her other brother who she thought about everyday. She reached into her pack for her waterskin, whatever joy was on her face melted away as she answered Fili. "Now it is."

"Now?"

"We had an older cousin who grew up with us." Her voice grew soft and distant at the mention of her other big brother, her closest friend and the guilt that turned her stomach.

The brothers gave her a small smile, "What was his name?" asked Fili.

"Thalion." Lostoriel answeredtightly, the sticky lump in her throat rose and threatened to pop. She hardly ever spoke about Thalion to anyone, he and she had been inseparable until the day he died. Unconsciously Lostoriel rubbed the scar on her cheek, "Who do you two have?"

The pair's smiles died down as they watched her, Kili reached into his pocket and fished out a smooth stone that he tossed about in the air, catching it with ease.

"Our mother." They answered in unison.

"And Aven." Piped up Kili, a toothy, proud grin split his beardless face apart.

"Aven?" Lostoriel turned to face them, an eyebrow already raised when she shot Fili an intrigued smile.

Kili's grin only widened as he watched Fili blush an apple shade of pink and Lostoriel's eyebrow arch in amusement.

"Oh that's just Fili's ... What did you call her brother?" Kili stroked his chin, mimicking deep thought, "Your uhmm…"

"His sunflower is it?" Cut in Nori with a smirk, "She's his betrothed."

"Oh shut up both of you." The blonde dwarf turned to Lostoriel, his eyes full of wander and love, "Aven is... She's an entire universe and then some more," Fili paused shooting mild a glare at Nori, "we are not betrothed Nori!"

Lostoriel let out a babbling laugh, the sound lightening their hearts, "Is that so? That braid in your hair suggests otherwise master Fili."

If Fili could turn a more burning shade of red he did. Now all the Dwarves were staring at them both in astonishment, half of which was because Fili had not told many of them that he was promised to her and half because Lostoriel knew of their usually safely guarded secrets. The blonde dwarf gave her a sly smirk.

"How do you know about our traditions?" he removed himself from her legs, half turning to face her, his sky-blue eyes focused on the ring on her finger. "That ring on your finger suggests otherwise Lostoriel."

The elf flushed red, her pointed ears burned beneath her hair, she was grateful that in the darkness that no one could see how red they were. "Nevermind what I know."

In a second she pulled the ring off her finger and stuck it in a hidden pocket in her bag. "What ring?"

"This one." Nori held out the intricately carved circle in his palm, his face riddled with joy. "You really shouldn't try to hide things from a saviour of forgotten items."

Quickly she grabbed it out his hand both impressed and concerned about Nori's pastime and slipped it back onto her finger, hiding it from the dwarves. "Saviour of forgotten items." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "More like a common thief."

"I am no thief my lady. I merely give second life to lonely items. Also stop tryin' to change the subject." He winked at her to let her know he was joking.

"Aye he's right." Piped up Fili.

Bofur held her hand up to the sunlight, studying the patterns on the ring, he wriggled his eyebrows at her, "So who is he lass?"

"Must be that blonde elf who's been training you. He looked rather dashing, if I say so myself." Chimed Kili from her side, not bothering to look up whilst he checked the fletching on his arrows. Lostoriel's ears burned as she gasped horrified that they thought she was courting and no less betrothed to Glorfindel.

"Goodness no! Lord Glorfindel? He's positively ancient." She pushed the ring between her fingers, scrunching her nose as if she was surrounded by pipeweed. "He knew my mother when she was an elfling."

Kili nudged her with his elbow, "He looks young enough for you."

The elf dropped her head into her hands, trying to suppress the laugh that escaped her, "He is literally ancient Kili, I'm still a child in his eyes. No, he's more family than anything else. You're one to talk about the attractiveness of elves."

Kili blush deepened as his companions sniggered and laughed at him, he was never going to live that one down. "At least I'm not betrothed to an ancient elf."

The she-elf paled once again, the prospect of marriage had always terrified her and right now Lostoriel wasn't prepared to face the idea, "I am not betrothed to anyone. This ring belongs to an elf yes, but I don't think I'll tell you who just yet. I'm far too young for marriage."

"Really? I do recall you and one of Lord Elrond's sons spending quite a bit of time together." said Bilbo throwing the apple core behind him, he couldn't help but join in the fun. "And how old are you?"

Lostoriel rolled her eyes to the heavens, questioning, not for the first time, why she ever chose to come on this quest. She half glared at Bilbo for bringing up her age again, "Never mind that. Enough about me. What about your uncle Frerin? How come he's not here with us?" she smoothly changed the subject before they could pry any further into her personal life.

If the midday sky could darken it did and a leaden silence fell over the small group. Lostoriel realised her mistake, but it was too late. Thorin marched back into the circle, his hands clutched tightly behind his back. No one mentioned Frerin often, not even him. The pain of losing his brother was still too poignant for him to bear even after all these years. He coughed down the tears that threatened to choke him.

"Come it's time to move on. We're losing daylight." Said Thorin lowly, his eyes steely and face grim set as he slung his pack over his shoulders.

And so the days passed much the same as they had before, they rose before dawn to make as much headway as they could. Passing through the open plains and hills, climbing ever higher into the footholds of the Misty Mountains. The company only stopped when necessary, taking short breaks in the warm midday sun and camping from well after sunset eating nothing but meagre rations from Imladris.

It was now the fifth day of their travels, having passed over the first low mountain ranges and plains that let into the Wilderness. The rolling peaks and depthless valleys were quickly becoming clearer through the haze as the company steadily trod along the great east road. Their journey had thus far been uneventful save for the bone-chilling warg howls they heard echoing off the mountains.

Fili and Kili had spent their time questioning her on every aspect of Earth. They had been most interested in the food and fascinated by the moving pictures Lostoriel claimed were called movies. Fili thought the name was stupid, however he was more than taken with the stories she told them. Ones of great kings and children who travelled to a magical land through a wardrobe. The dwarves had listened intently as she about the technology that the earthen people used, about the cars and the massive planes that were, in Dwalin's words, basically metal birds.

Bilbo and Ori on the other hand begged her to tell them more tales and poetry from this foreign land. They had been taken by the world-renowned writer named Shakespeare and terrified of the weapons that she spoke about. And much to Lostoriel's guilt and thankfulness Thorin hadn't uttered a word to her about what had transpired in camp the other afternoon. He had however attempted to make conversation with her, which failed dismally as they both grew annoyed with the other when he brought up her presence on the Quest once again.

On this particular evening a quiet peace had settled over the company. It lasted only for a short while until the dwarves began to moan about their empty stomachs and aching feet. They had travelled well into the afternoon and now rested in a small camp just beneath a high ridge that was covered in trees. They had made significant progress over the past two days without rest. Thorin and Dwalin were happy with their progress and were now seated by the fire. Hunched over a detailed map of the Misty Mountains plotting their next move further into the heart of the mountains.

Bofur sang a merry tune about some nonsense or the other whilst he helped Oin and Gloin set fire to the kindling in the centre of their small camp. And Kili had just returned from hunting for their supper in the trees, he had proudly handed off a small, skinned deer to Bombur whilst Lostoriel passed a sackful of leafy greens to Bilbo to make a quick salad. They, or rather Bilbo would be the one to finish off the hasty salad by himself, Lostoriel had never enjoyed vegetables herself.

Lostoriel dusted her hands on her leggings before placing her bow and quiver next to her pack near Bilbo's belongings with a content sigh. She smiled fondly at the walking stick the hobbit insisted on using, it suited him and would make for a good make-shift weapon. However Fili and Kili had tried to trip her with it several times. The brothers were decidedly both amazed and jealous of her ability to stride without falter or clumsiness. As far as Lostoriel was concerned it was only a matter of time before she snapped it in half and wacked both them over the head with the pieces.

She shook that vividly satisfying thought from her mind as she passed behind Thorin and his small group of council dwarves. Fili, Balin and Dwalin all knelt around the map too, she found it fitting that it should be the crown prince of Erebor and their oldest confidants that Thorin sought wisdom from. Kili was yet to appear, having been held captive by Bombur who had him slicing the wild potatoes they had found earlier that day.

Thorin held one edge of the map down with the hilt of Orcrist, whilst Fili had the other two edges flattened under two of the multitude of knives he had buried in his clothing. Thorin pointed with the tip of a knife to a narrow path that deviated from the Great East Road and wove through a deep ravine. Lostoriel studied the map, unnoticed by the dwarves, over Dwalin's shoulder.

"If we take this path then we should make it out the mountains within the next few days." The dwarf said with a hint of nervousness in his voice. Summer was passing by quickly and already they were beginning to feel the first chills of autumn on the wind hurrying over the snowy peaks.

Balin leant back on his knees, supressing a groan when his thigh muscles pulled in protest, "Thorin I say we go another way, that pathway leads through the Mountain Pass. I wouldn't trust it."

Dwalin nodded in agreement, levelling the irritated look Thorin gave him, "Aye Thorin it is risky, have you forgotten the legends that surround it?"

Lostoriel couldn't help but agree with the Dwarves, she knew the ancient legends surrounded that path. Of stone giants that emerged in the midst of great thunder storms and unknowingly crushed travellers as they passed through. And she had heard them once, long ago: the echoing of a thundering battle that travelled across the mountains.

"They are right Thorin. We may die trying to pass through." All four dwarves jumped at the sound of her voice, none of them had noticed her standing in the shadows behind them. She tried hide the smug smile that appeared on her face. One thing growing up in the forest had taught her, was how to remain unseen even in plain sight.

"You have been gone a long time Lostoriel. The paths of the mountain passes have since changed." To her surprise there was the barest hint of annoyance in the sincerity of his voice.

She folded her arms across her chest, rolling her eyes and forgetting the concept of erosion for a moment. The dying amber sunshine and flickering firelight casting silhouetting her behind them. "And yet I am sure that the legends haven't changed?"

Thorin's eyes hardened, he and Gandalf had sat together and discussed this before they had left Rivendell. Stonegiants or not, it was the easiest route. He pointed to a pathway leading around the Causeway or High Pass, "No one has used that road in the last sixty years. The passage was destroyed after a massive storm swept over the mountains. It would be a death-trap to attempt to traverse it now, especially since the summer storms will soon be upon us.

Thorin knelt onto the balls of his feet, "We do not have time nor lives to waste. The high pass is the quickest and most efficient way to get through the Misty Mountains. Gandalf said much the same thing. That is what we're doing."

"Alright." Was all Lostoriel said with a nod before turning towards the mouth-watering smell of roasting meat. She saw the reason behind what he said. She was loathe to admit that the dwarf was right, she really had no idea what the world was like now. All the paths and roads she knew may well be eroded and long since forgotten by now.

That and Lostoriel was far too hungry to argue with Thorin and far too wrong. Unfortunately he knew Middle Earth better than she did. One of the perks of being missing for a century, she thought wryly. But was distracted when the droplets of fat from the meat fell onto the burning wood with a hiss.

The elf's stomach growled in anticipation for the well-roasted meat that would be ready later. Had it been her cooking the meat she would've had it charred on the outside and barely ready to eat, but Bombur knew to let it cook slowly.

Lostoriel stared at the looming peaks before them, tomorrow they would pass high up into the foreboding mountains. Walking above the peaks where the snow fell like a blanket and the air was thin and crisp. Her empty stomach turned when she realised how high up they would be, Lostoriel wrapped her arms around her chest watching as the sun set behind the grey peaks. She hoped that stone giants were the only foul things that they might encounter in the heart of the mountain range.

Their tantalizing supper passed by uneventfully, save for the horrific belching and unacceptable 'table' manners of the Dwarves. Not for the first time Lostoriel understood a little of why elves disliked dwarves so much. Having being brought up in the royal court she had been accustomed to the ways of fine dining, which of course she and her troop, Legolas included, hastily disregarded as soon as they were out in the forest. The notion that elvish warriors were fine and graceful creatures was ridiculous, she smirked at the thought, and no one ever wrote a song about the ravenous appetites of her friends in the Greenwood. She was yet to hear a bard of how Legolas and the twins had once practically inhaled an entire pot of rabbit stew in the span of half an hour.

So naturally she shouldn't have been shocked when Gloin let the crumbs of the flatbread she had helped Bombur make sit idly in his amber beard. Nor when Bifur let out a resounding burp that she could smell from where she sat on the other side of the fire. Alas, she cringed as the stale scent wafted into her nose.

"A real refined lot we are." Remarked Bofur using the corner of his jerkin to wipe his mouth.

Bifur burped in agreement around string of unintelligible Dwarvish words that sprayed more food crumbs than comprehension on his companions.

Kili grinned at him, his round cheeks were stuffed with bread, "Aye Bifur, though next time we don't want to taste what you had for breakfast."

Bilbo nearly gagged at that, he had spent almost two months with these Dwarves, but their questionable table manners made him want to run back into BagEnd and firmly lock the door behind him. Lostoriel snorted a most unladylike snort when she noticed how his nose twitched on his screwed up face. Which further scrunched up when he heard her snort next to him and proceeded to laugh at his expression.

It was Fili's turn to speak, though he had no food in his mouth and his clothing remained unstained, save for a few travel stains here and there. He smiled wryly at her from across the small fire, "Apologies for our impeccable manners my lady."

Lostoriel opened her mouth to tell him that she had encountered worse when Ori belched something horrendous and she let her head fall into her hands.

"You don't have to be so ladylike around us you know." Came Bofur's voice from beneath his floppy hat. "We know you're just as hungry as we are."

The she-elf calmly set down the wooden bowl she had been eating from, she wiped her mouth with the end of her sleeve. "Trust me, you don't want me to." There was a hint of warning in her voice, though Lostoriel was sure that she could hear Galion and her father begging her to eat like a princess would. And not like a ravenous wolf.

"Don't you worry Bofur, you'll find out soon enough about the appetites of travelling elves." Balin sauntered around the camp fire, collecting their bowls and utensils. Tonight was his and Dori's turn to clean the supper dishes, he was a seasoned traveller, but his old bones urged him to return to the fire relax each time he bent down to collect their dishes.

Lostoriel rolled her eyes at the wriggling eyebrows Bofur sent her way, they had first spent the entire day taking wagers on her age, now she had no doubt that the next one would be on how long it would take a "refined", she used the word liberally, princess such as herself to go feral.

Lazily the elf undid the end of the long, single plait she had twisted her hair into that morning. It began tightly at the top of her head and tickled the tip of her waist. Ori had wanted to begin sketching her portrait tonight and she supposed that she should appear somewhat presentable for the young scribe.

However that only happened much later into the night long after some of the dwarves had lulled into a deep sleep around the fire. The night was clear for the most part, hazy grey clouds scudded across the navy sky and a warm breeze had settled into the summer night. The company had found themselves tucked into their bedrolls next to the fire, there would be no need for the squat tents they carried.

Slowly they all drifted off after their re-moralising supper with only a handful of them sat wide awake chatting aimlessly by the fireside. Bilbo rested his stout legs on Lostoriel's outstretched ones as he reclined against the log he was using as a backrest. His hands were folded on his chest whilst his attention was focused on the story Fili and Kili were theatrically telling him. The brother's had taken an instant liking to him and the trio had made this a regular pastime during their journey. Tonight they recalled a hair-raising tale of a supposed ghost that still haunted the plains outside Erebor. He thought it was absolute hogwash and yet the icy tendrils of fear that played in his mind and the hairs that stood at the back of his neck begged to differ.

Lostoriel paid them little heed as she sat facing the glowing firelight with Ori's sketchbook open on her knees and said dwarf sat cross-legged in front of Bilbo hastily sketching on the parchment in front of him. He had done more than enough work for the night and had her face drawn out in detail within two hours, all he needed to do was add shadow to the drawing and he'd be done.

The elf had made an easy subject to draw, Lostoriel had sat their quiet and still as a mouse, paging through the crisp pages of the record book he was keeping for the duration of their Quest. Lostoriel was mesmerised by the impressive skill and talent that Ori possessed. He had done detailed drawings of each of the dwarves, every hair on their heads had been drawn with absolute precision and care. But what had taken her breath away were the sketches he had done of Imladris

She lightly traced her fingers over a serene drawing of an elf dancing beneath one of the many waterfalls in Imladris. A small smile touched her lips as she imagined the Noldorian twirling about under the spray of the water. The elf must have been one of the scarce younger elves who dwelt in the haven city full of positively ancient and retired warriors.

Her smile widened when she turned the page to find a series of detailed pieces scattered across a double page, of herself. These, she realised, was what Ori had been working on that day on the training fields. He captured Glorfindel and her sparring with each other in a whirlwind of movement. Their swords depicted as nothing more than whirring lines floating around them.

Turning the page her heart leapt in her chest as the firelight illuminated a sketch of Elrohir resting against a tree in Lady Celebrain's garden. He had captured every last detail of the elf, from the small beauty spot just below his right eye to the way his forehead creased when he rested. Lostoriel had begun to miss him, they had had so little time together and now…

Lostoriel pushed the thought aside, she had told him that she loved him but the elleth wasn't sure if she was ready to simply pick up this part of her life from where it had ended. She mused on the image for some time until Fili's low, hasty voice cut into her thoughts.

"And they say that all they found of the elf was a cloak lying dis-guarded as the dwarves fled the mountain, charred and ripped to shreds." His voice held an air of mystery about it and no small amount of fear. The story his brother and he had been telling Bilbo was one that Dwalin had told them on many occasions to get them to stay indoors or more often than not. To get them to behave, saying that the shadow of the mountain would come to take them away if they didn't listen to their mother.

Whatever mirth and comfort Lostoriel had felt died away when she heard Fili's voice and the next words that left Kili's mouth.

"Aye Bilbo, some call her the wraith of the mountain. She who walks unseen beneath the moon, who had been burnt so terribly by Smaug that she was near unrecognisable. It's said that if you look carefully enough you can still see where the dragon scarred her. And that if you did the image would stay in your head forever. It's said that people have been driven mad by it." Kili smirked mischievously at this, he knew it was just a tall tale that Dwalin had constructed, however he also knew that it was told around a certain amount of truth.

And for the duration of their journey would wish that he and his brother had been wiser that night.

Lostoriel's heart dropped to her stomach, the first half of the tale had been amusing to listen to. They had first recounted an exaggerated and nearly impossible battle between Smaug and herself which she had found amusing. Now she down-turned her gaze and attempted to block out the stinging pain that flared across the left of her body. Lostoriel squeezed her brows together as she tried her hardest to remember what Glorfindel had told her about controlling her memories. About not letting what she felt increase the emotion as it poured back into her mind.

It was the slight tingling that pulled at his skin that knocked into Thorin's consciousness. Then it was the swooping, horrific face of Smaug that beat his ginormous wings sending gold and treasure flying in all directions. The dragon found footing on a pair of staircases, his talons easily crushing the emerald stone between his toes as he bent lowly and blew a massive wall fire in his face that caused Thorin to jump and wake up to an intense silence that had sunk over the camp.

His companions stood or sat wearily where they were previously asleep. Their eyes were wide with fear, he swore he could hear their hearts pounding in his ears. Maybe it was just his. That had been no dream. Nor had it been a vision.

"Wha' was that?" Dwalin was the first to find his voice which was no more than a whisper for directed at Lostoriel's back. As he watched them Thorin noticed the sheet, white faces of his nephews, Ori and Bilbo who all sat stock still. Petrified and staring fearfully at the elf before them.

Bilbo hadn't expected to see that. He hadn't realised that Lostoriel would take to the story in such a way. His brain refused to believe what his eyes showed it. The human, monstrously scarred face that stared back at him. One eye almost completely white, the other perfectly normal. Rivers and mountains of burns that had never healed, breathing under her skin. Stretching down to her neck and shoulders, her hand was skeletal, he swallowed the bile that had climbed up his throat. He could see the tendons and scarred flesh over her cheek and her fingers.

The once mesmerising elf was now as she truly was. No magic concealed her scars. The three dwarves and hobbit recoiled in horror. Guilt swam in Kili and Fili's stomach. They had no idea of what she had been through. Of what had transpired in that mountain until now.

Lostoriel tentatively rose from her spot, turning in a slow circle to face the rest of the dwarves. Her head hung low, her hands trembling. Shame. Fear. That was what she felt heat her cheeks and withdraw into herself, her voice was lost no more than a faint whisper on the wind. She had let no one see her burns, not even Elrohir who knew they were there but had been too afraid to ask her about them. Only Lord Elrond had seen them and for the sole reason of her needing a draught for the pain.

The scars of her failure. She had covered the mirrors in the small house she had stayed in. She had worn a hood over her head for months on end until she was strong enough to use what elven power she had left to mask them. A hundred years and she had lived her life as if that day had never happened. And now she was exposed. Vulnerable.

No, she thought, this time there would be no fear. No shame. No unwillingness to let them see the monster they had written into legend. Lostoriel met their eyes, fire blazing over what trepidation she had felt before. This is what their greed had brought upon her, this is what selfish ambition had wrought in the depths of their mines. And she had lost a part of herself in their kingdom.

"I thought it was only legend." Piped up Dori, his brows pushed together as he clutched his heart, absentmindedly making a sign to ward off evil.

"How is that possible?" Their questions hung unanswered in the weighty air.

Lostoriel lifted her chin, her face set in grim lines as she looked at them down her slender nose. "That was the price of greed."

Without missing another beat she strode into the forest, bristling with fury and embarrassment that swelled in her chest, sitting over her lungs like an oliphant.

Thorin couldn't meet her eyes as she turned, he couldn't bear to look at her. Her blood was on his hands. He knew that. He knew that from the moment he heard her unnatural scream the day Smaug had attacked Erebor. Her cry for help had rung endlessly in his ears for months after that. As they travelled into the Wilderness all he could hear and see was the fire, the flash of orange silver as she brandished her sword and the ragged cloak one of his men had brought from the mountain.

He did not have any way of knowing whether she remembered that. What he had done. But deep within his mind Thorin knew that he would have to ask for her forgiveness. No matter the increasing rivalry between their people. Inhaling deeply he made to follow her, but was stopped when Balin tightly clutched his arm, shaking his head.

"No lad. Let her be." Said his old companion, warning and sorrow set deeply within his round, chestnut eyes.

Respect floated in their eyes as they stared at her, all had taken an involuntary step backwards when the elf faced them full on. The dancing firelight casting strange shadows on her scarred face. However Lostoriel failed to see the newfound awe they reflected for her, the elf who had fought a dragon to protect their kingdom.

She only saw the wide eyes. The horror and revile. Perhaps she was just the monster that Kili had described. Beneath all the magic and weaponry she was an ethereal elf no longer. No longer a princess, no longer human. She was a myth. A creature sung of in fairy tales that children feared. A wrestles shadow supposedly roaming about Erebor who didn't know the home she returned to.

Lostoriel would have laughed at the pure insanity of it all, had it not been for their fright. So instead she did what she knew best and flicked her cowl over her head sombrely trudging into the forest.

Hiii there! Yeah...so lots of drama and revelations, who knows what Thorin will do next..( cue dramatic music...)I procrastinated with this chapter which is why I posted so late. It ended up being a bit of a filler, but I'm happy with it...Hope you all enjoyed it though! I'm so excited to post chapter 12!!! I have lots plAnned for the next few chapters...Thank you Lancelot 2.0 for reading all the bits and pieces and drafts!!!! You're an awesome human bean...And thanks for all the reviews!!!BumbleBaggins: Wow.Thank you so much, you have no idea how much that means to me... I'm so happy you're enjoying this fic!Ro781727: Yeah...Saruman would definitely think so, he's good at making others doubt the truth so it was fun to write him in that way... Galadriel would have more than severely sharp words for him.I think Thorin said that just as a slip- up , but also because he may still have a bit of faith in Gandalf to help them. Though he said it mainly to rile her up a little I think...