Hii, sorry about the double update. Some of the dialogue got deleted...
That night the company knew no sleep, they lay under the cloudy night sky, still as the night itself remembering the day Smaug came. The leaden silence had them sullenly poking at the fire and Balin recalling stories from his childhood in Erebor with his brother in a vain attempt to lighten the weariness that had fallen over his younger companions.
Fili and Kili however had never been more frightened in their short lives. Lostoriel had for one given them an image that burned into their minds and they had quickly learnt that some nightmares truly did exist. But that, unexpectedly, was not what caused them to shuffle restlessly in their bed rolls and blankets next to the dying fire.
Thorin had been much too quiet and much to calm after what they had done. He had levelled them with a serenity in his icy blue eyes equal to that of a satisfied wolf that had his prey easily cornered. And growing up with their uncle they knew that that was merely the calm before the storm.
Now in the grey dawn light he crouched behind their heads, allowing himself to admire his beautiful sister's sons before sighing as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. He wished that he didn't have to do this, however he knew that they had to learn this lesson and weather the consequences.
Thorin bent down a lower, "Up." the command was so low and deep that the brothers immediately woke with a start. Their uncle finally allowed a scowl to line his features. The boys, they were still his boys in Thorin's eyes, expected their ears to be twisted or at the very least to feel Thorin's hands pulling them to their feet. None of that came and it terrified them.
Their uncle breathed out one last order to follow him and had then led them into the trees. Then all hell broke out upon them.
"Of all the things you two have done this is the most idiotic of them all!" was the shout that startled many of the dwarves from their sleep and sent the birds flying from the treetops in a hurry. And one elf nearly tumbling from the branch she was resting on.
Lostoriel pulled her sword back onto her lap just before it dropped to the ground and righted herself on the thick upper branch of the young tree she had been asleep in. she had wandered aimlessly around the forest for hours, staring at her left hand in disgust as she did so. Their inquisitive and fearful scares had made her feel like a monster, like a strange creature on display. And yet there was something powerful in having shown them her scars, some unspoken confidence that radiated from within her. Lostoriel had passed into legend, she had become more than just an elf. And her scars were proof of her courage, though she felt none now.
"Please, tell me what on this good green earth possessed you two to tell that particular fable to Master Baggins? What suddenly made it alright to speak of that in front of the elf who the story is based on?" Thorin's voice rose steadily and cutting through her thoughts as he reprimanded his nephews who stood incredibly still as their uncle paced back and forth in front of them.
"You're both lucky that Lostoriel didn't kill you in the spot for that." At this the elf nearly laughed, she had no intentions of killing them or harming the young dwarves. Unlike her WoodLand kin, she didn't think she ever could. Lostoriel studied them closely, listening to the similar, slightly lilting way they spoke and how Fili and Kili mirrored the tall, confident stance that Thorin stood in. If she hadn't known that Thorin was their uncle she would've thought they were his sons.
"You're young and naive yes, but I and more importantly your mother and father raised you both to be wiser and less stupid than this." Suddenly Lostoriel felt like she was intruding on their private conversation. Beneath her hands she felt the tree rumble, it was laughing at her. "Oh be quiet would you? No need to wake up the entire forest." She hissed at the tree, having forgotten that she had accidentally woken it during the night.
"Uncle we-" began Kili, his tired eyes staring at his boots.
"I don't care Kili. I do not care if you meant or did not mean any harm from that story. I do not care if you told it to scare Master Baggins witless. What I care about is why, why on earth you both thought it appropriate?"
"Thorin." Fili made to step forward, but thought better.
"I'm not done." he said lowly. Thorin stood at an angle, pointing in the direction of the woods behind them. His expression darkened, "You do understand that she is the reason many of our people are alive today? That Lostoriel made sure your mother and I made it out of the mountain in time?
'Not only that, but, you," he gave Fili a pointed look, "as the future crown Prince you should know better. And you," he turned to face Kili, "as my heir should know better too. When she returns to camp I expect you both to apologise to her. The hatred between our people may run deep, but we owe her much and from now on it would do us good to show her that."
Lostoriel's eyebrows quirked up, astonished at the sincerity of his voice. If she was being honest the elf thought that he hated her, but this. This was unexpected and it sent a warmth flowing through her chest, the Thorin she knew was still there. Beneath all that stoic pretence and anger, the dwarf she had once known was there and was willing, however little that will may be, to make amends.
As the words left his mouth Thorin realised that he meant them. He still wasn't pleased with her joining them, but he knew when the time came that she would play an important role in their tale. The dwarf faced his nephews, Fili thought he could the fires of hell dimming in his eyes. The soft, caring demeanour of their beloved uncle came over him once more, though the sternness of his jaw dictated their next move.
The brother's met their uncle's weary eyes, answering in unison, "We're sorry Uncle."
"We meant no harm to her." Kili's downcast expression nearly melted Thorin's steely heart as it had in the past. He met Kili's warm brown eyes, his sister's eyes, and saw no falsehood in them. Only regret and the slightest twinge of fear lurking behind them. "All those tales we heard growing up, the ones of the wraith that haunts the mountain's shores, they aren't real right? We haven't just…?"
Thorin let a wide reassuring grin break over his grim face, enjoying the quiet moment of solitude with his nephews. "You have seen no ghost, if that is what you're asking Kili. Lostoriel is as real as daylight."
A loud cough sent all three of them jumping and Lostoriel hopped lightly from a tree branch behind Fili. The tree flicked its leafy tipped branch once more, as if it were saying farewell, before straightening into place amongst its brothers and sisters.
"I'm not a ghost Kili, if I were I'd chose more interesting dwarves to haunt." Her tone was light, but her eyes brimmed with sleeplessness and apprehension.
Fili and Kili were galvanised into action. Immediately crowding around her and rushing into their apologies. Wanting nothing more than to win back the affection of their new companion.
"We'reincrediblysorryforwhatwedid.Wemeantnoharmandhopeyoucanforgiveus ." Kili paused inhaling deeply, his cheeks a bright shade of red.
Fili elbowed Kili, shaking his head in exasperation at his little brother's tendency to attempt to catch lightening with the speed of his words. Kili had always been that way when he felt guilty. Their mother had tried to help him slow down, but unless they were dealing with a diplomatic issue Kili's words left his mouth before his brain had time to process what he was saying. Lostoriel took half a step back, losing track of what Kili was saying halfway through his hurried apology.
Fili, the more composed one of the two finished off. "We ask only your forgiveness. Our family and importantly our people are indebted to you." Fili looked up into her eyes, his expression soft, "You are no monster. History may have turned you into one, but we see you differently and hope you would too see us that way too."
Lostoriel took a tentative step forward, already she felt the pressure behind her eyes building. And the tears waiting to spill, but none came. That night she had let them fall freely after many years of not letting herself feel anything towards her damaged body. She gave them a wane smile.
"I forgive you both." The elf placed her hands on their shoulders, the same as Thorin had. "Thank you. Know that I hold no anger nor resentment towards either of you." Lostoriel almost cringed how formal she sounded, "I hope that I did not scare you too much and that we can carry on as we were. Admittedly I've enjoyed your company."
"Really now?" Fili asked, arching a blonde eyebrow as they made their way back to camp.
"Okay perhaps I lied." She jostled his shoulder, looking over him to Thorin who was at the edge of the woods and lowered his head. Lostoriel mirrored the gesture, the unspoken understanding passing between them louder than words.
The elf stood dumbfounded. She looked down into his eyes and saw no lie in them, instead she saw gratefulness. Lostoriel grasped his arm, lowering her head, not willing to trust her voice as her throat tightened.
Lostoriel shrugged off the cowl of her cloak, wiping away the beads of sweat that had trickled down her forehead. The sun had reached its zenith and the elf had to squint into the distance to see the snowy peaks below them. The mountains below them seemed to roll on forever. Dipping and rising high into the clear air and stretching beyond the blurry horizon line. The Company had spent the morning trekking up through the forest land and up onto a steadily rising plateau that quickly rose into a range of grey mountains which clawed into the sky.
At this altitude they should have been freezing, but the heat had sunk deep into their clothing. Warming their toes and making the dwarves' beards uncontrollably frizzy. More than once had each of the dwarves grumbled under their thick moustaches about the elf's hair which barely moved out of place in her perfect braid. Even when the wind picked up and brought snowflakes from the lower escarpments, the flurries only caused her to seem ethereal and made their envy for her elven hair stronger.
A quick flurry of movement beside her caught her eye. He looked at her for the fifth time in a minute. Thousands of questions burning in his eyes. Bilbo opened his mouth to speak but shut it firmly, thinking that he should leave her at peace.
The hobbit had been racking the elf for answers to all his questions about elves all morning. He had intended to ask Lord Elrond, but whenever he tried to his tongue knotted itself up and forgot how to work. The hobbit had also tried to speak to the twins and gave up after they assailed him with contradicting statements, playing into the old saying that elves will always answer both yes and no.
Now he had his chance. He , Fili and Kili had been circling her like vultures with questions, absurd and rather annoying questions about elves.
Lostoriel caught Bilbo looking at her again, deciding that the halfling was never going to get the words out his mouth she turned to him. Cocking her head to the side like a wolf before it lunged at its prey. The hobbit looked as if he might burst from the curiosity bubbling within him.
"I suggest you air out your question before you pop Bilbo."
He jumped, having not expected her to catch him unaware. Suddenly he felt guilty, the dwarves had already tried and failed to get her to answer the question. But he wasn't giving up so easily.
"Are you really not going to tell us how old you are?"
The elf assumed a long- suffering gaze, "Is it that important to all of you to know how old I am?"
Fili and Kili smirked at each other, "Yes."
The elf turned a withering gaze on the dwarf brothers walking behind them. They knew that they were getting under her skin and fully intended on ruffling her feathers.
"Well you see..." began Fili.
"For all we know you could be a child." Added Kili with a wide grin.
"Or as ancient as our grandmother."
Again she shot them a glare over her shoulder, her long braid nearly whipping Kili in the face. "I'm not a child, nor am I old enough to be a grandmother. "
Their grins only widened, "So you're somewhere in between then..." said Fili, scratching his bearded chin thoughtfully. "You must be around our age."
"My wager's that you were born in the third age." Called Bofur with a grin.
Gloin beside him turned to examine the elf, sizing her up. Taking in her green and brown cloak, the leather jerkin and deep brown leggings that slipped into her boots where he knew a knife or two would be hidden. Beneath all the weaponry and her fiery eyes was an ancient being, one who had seen more in her long life than he had. Now that Gloin thought about it she was actually older than him. Studying her fair, sun-kissed and high cheek boned face, he saw that Lostoriel was young and strode with the buoyancy and confidence that oozed from the youth. She looked no older than his young son Gimli, who had not yet come of age, and yet, swimming in the sky of her eyes was the unmistakeable glow of old age. Of one who had seen much toil and suffering.
For all he knew this elf could be as old as the sun itself. The thought unsettled him to his bones. He nodded his head a few times, his bright ginger hair catching the light, "I'd say first age."
Lostoriel remained impassive, though inside she was gasping indignantly and wondering if she really did look that old. Her father was old. Lord Elrond was older. And Glorfindel was practically ancient. She was foolhardy, stubborn and irritable, but one thing she was not was old. "I'm still not telling you."
Bifur commented in a rumble of Khuzdul, his gruff words causing the elf's eyebrows to shoot into her forehead. Bombur caught her confusion before she could ask about his cousin's speech problem. "He says that we shouldn't trust a word you're saying." Piped up the cook.
"Is that so?." Then her head cocked to the side, brushing the insult aside, "Tell me, does he always speak Khuzdul?"
"Oh that'll be the axe." Said Bofur pointing to a spot on his forehead, "Mind you, he can understand what you're saying."
"If you're so insistent on remaining ageless we'll tell you how old we are." Kili grinned. And still the elf said nothing as Fili and Kili triumphantly told them their respective ages of eighty two and seventy seven. Lostoriel was not impressed, she raised a surprised eyebrow having expected Kili to be younger. To her they were young, almost children in her aged eyes.
Finally Bilbo sighed resigned to the fact that she wasn't ever going to tell them, "Well if you won't tell us your age then will you at least tell us when your birthday is?"
Her ears were slowly turning a satisfying shade of pink, but she wouldn't budge. Her grip on her bow tightened just as her stomach did. Lostoriel didn't enjoy talking about her age. She never had.
Her lips tightened into a thin line, she rolled her eyes. Making a show of her exasperation. That was one thing she actually did know, though they didn't need to know that. Not yet.
"It's sometime in the winter." Came her clipped reply. The dwarves had begun to march along the trail now, but most of them were still unsatisfied with her answer. Lostoriel turned her gaze to the horizon, ignoring the hushed conversation going on beside her.
"Almost dumped me in the moat for asking." Mumbled Thorin under his breath. It was a shout in Lostoriel's ears.
"I'm sorry, what was that Thorin?"
The dwarf halted, his shoulders squaring. He hadn't thought she'd be able to hear it. "Nothing. Let's keep moving." He could feel her icy glare eating into his back.
"Good. That's what I thought."
"You don't know do you?" smirked Bilbo
Lostoriel ignored the hobbit. Her face set into grim lines. All that to mask the truth that she didn't know how old she was. She had never needed to know, her father and brothers had kept track of that. And she still had no intentions of doing so. But Bilbo was no fool, the reddening at the tips of her ears gave her away.
"How come?"
She sighed, "Many elves stop counting their years after a few centuries. Time just flows within itself for us. Days turn into months like the tide on the shoreline and eventually we lose track." The elf shrugged, "Age is wistful as winter frost on the grass."
Bilbo was taken back by her matter-of-fact tone. Lostoriel had known many elves who couldn't remember what day it was, let alone what the year was. But to Bilbo and the Dwarves this was bewildering. The ways of the fair folk were elusive and uninteresting to them, yet this was a matter that caused them to stop in their tracks.
"How old were you when you stopped counting?" asked FIli his eyebrows raised.
Again Lostoriel shrugged, trying her best to look indifferent, "Around two thousand, give or take a few years."
The elf choose to ignore the amused snort that came from Thorin. He had asked her the same question when he was younger and had nearly been thrown into several dangerous places around Erebor. Ever since he had reprimanded his nephews, the tension between them had somewhat eased. However the dwarves were still weary around her, unsure of how to speak to her or what to say as the discomfort of what they saw continually played on their minds.
An eerie silence passed over the dwarves, "It can't be possible. You don't look a day over twenty!" Exclaimed Dori from behind Fili.
"Thank you Dori." She grinned, flashing her eyebrows at Bilbo, "I'm still not telling you."
The hobbit frowned, his curiosity was slowly getting the better of him.
"So, you must have been born around the start of the Second Age then?" asked Bofur, adding to his earlier assumption. Lostoriel had to do a double take of the dwarf who spun his hat on his fingers. He looked odd to her with a head of flat, mousy brown hair and that annoying toothy grin on his face.
Lostoriel pulled her hood back over her head, nodding to him as several sacks of gold were thrown between the dwarves. She stood dumbfounded, "You lot took bets on my age?"
This time it was Dwalin who turned a smug smile to her, "We've taken several bets lass."
"I don't think lass is the correct term to use here Dwalin." Piped up Bilbo as a small sack of gold fell through his fingers and landed several paces behind him.
"You were in on it too?" the elf was, not for the first time, mystified by the sneakiness of hobbits. She turned her withering gaze on him, "And here I thought I had an ally."
"Of course I was on it." Laughed Bilbo, remaining un-withered, "You didn't think I'd let them have all the fun now did you?"
Lostoriel turned her eyes to the heavens, sighing and wondering if she'd ever hear the end of this one.
That evening they settled into a large cave halfway down the bleak mountain range after trudging along the treacherous cliffs and pathways. The dwarves had risked a fire near the back of the cave and a pot of rich rabbit stew bubbled happily over the fire.
The company had settled in for the night as Lostoriel took the first watch. The elf lay on her back on the large, flat outcropping of rock outside the cave. Her cloak sprawled out beneath her, quiver strapped to her hip and her bow held loosely across her stomach. In her deep blue eyes shimmered the light of millions of blazing stars. Tillion had long since begun his race into the navy sky and Eärendil shone brightly above her, Lostoriel smiled imagining them dancing around the brilliant lights in the darkness.
Heavy footsteps roused her from her wonderings, but she did not stir. The only sign that she was awake was the steady rising and falling of her chest. The heavy breathing which accompanied the footsteps and the faint scent of wood smoke and pine told her it was Thorin.
"I thought you might be hungry." He said gruffly, holding out a bowl of stew and a mug of what she thought was tea. Lostoriel rose, sitting cross-legged as she took the wooden bowl and cup from him nodding her thanks.
Thorin bowed his head slightly, turning to return to the warmth of the cave when something stopped him. Lostoriel seemed to sense this, twisting body to face him.
"Would you like to join me?" she asked with no hint of guile in her voice. Truthfully she was surprised that it was Thorin who brought her supper and that he wanted to speak to her. Lostoriel had assumed they weren't on speaking terms and were content with ignoring the other's existence. Or at least she thought, that was until she had revealed her scars.
"I know for a fact that you know the date of your birthday." He smirked, wincing slightly as his muscles ached as he sat down beside her. He was getting too old for this sort of travel.
Lostoriel took an appreciative sip of the hot liquid, feigning a look of innocence, "And I also know that your nephews would greatly enjoy the story of how you slipped into the moat the day you found out."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Oh believe me I would Thorin." She laughed at his fearsome tone and wide eyes. The light sound caused Thorin's heart to flutter, "It would be most amusing, I'm sure they'd enjoy the part where you forgot how to swim."
"I did not forget how to swim, you just pushed me into the deepest part! And the bit where your father gave you a mouthful that would've made my grandmother blush." He said seriously, watching as her face contorted into horror, but the puff of laughter that followed betrayed him.
"Moats are the same depth Thorin." Lostoriel laughed along with him, barely able to swallow the stew in her mouth. The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence, enjoying the peace of the dark night around them. Thorin found himself staring up at the dimly shining elf, discreetly studying her familiar and mesmerizing features, remembering how much he had missed her company.
Little did he know Lostoriel did the same, for this moment the pair were old friends again recalling the mischief they had gotten up to in his youth. Though the elf did not look at him with the same softness in her eyes. Her affections belonged to an elf far away, who she knew would be staring up at the stars as she did now.
"He fell." Thorin broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, he knew that she would hear him anyway. She couldn't find the right words to comfort her old friend, so instead Lostoriel
"Frerin." He coughed away the growing lump in his throat. He hardly ever spoke of Frerin around anyone else except his sister, Dwalin and his nephews. Thorin had let Frerin quietly live in his memory, but hardly ever in his words. "He fell after the battle of Moria."
"The battle of Moria? I don't recall it."
"Aye you won't. It was after the dragon fell. My grandfather thought it wise to take back Moria, thinking that we would have a place to call home again. But it was folly, the pale orc led a legion of orcs against us." Thorin paused for breath, unsure of whether he should carry on or not. Lostoriel nodded encouragingly, tucking her knees to her chest as she listened to him recount the horrific battle of Azanulbizar.
Of how he had faced down the Pale Orc in single combat and earned the name Oakenshield after defending himself with nothing but an oaken branch. Her heart froze for a moment when he told her of the massive casualties, of the ten who had barely survived and of the loss of his grandfather, father and brother. He had watched them die, his father he believed was still alive, but his brother. He had held his younger brother's body in his hands and wept for that was the first time he hadn't been there to protect Frerin. To make sure he got home.
"He never made it home." She gazed sorrowfully into his eyes. Lostoriel recalled Thorin's lively, mischievous little brother, he was still a boy when she had met him. And that was how she saw him now, how Thorin saw him. Young and full of life.
"I... Thorin. I'm so sorry." The elf laid a hand on his shoulder, the movement was awkward, yet it felt so natural to them both, "if I had known I wouldn't have -"
Thorin gently squeezed her hand, "Do not apologise, it was a very long time ago and you had no idea."
"Did you take back Moria?" she changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the subject of death any longer.
"No, the pale orc's army decimated our forces, our dead were beyond anything we had seen before. Frerin was one of many who gave their lives. Lives that could've been saved had your kin in Lothlorien aided us."
Lostoriel scoffed at his accusing tone, the snide remark sat achingly on her tongue. An overriding sense and disgust settled into her stomach and made her blood boil, "I can understand your distaste for my kin for not aiding you. However I do not understand why you hate elves with such vigour now." She faced him full on, "I remember a young dwarf Prince who once sat with the ElvenKing himself and conversed about the growing feud between our people and how we can end it. What changed you?"
Thorin was silent for an endless moment, taken back by her tirade He suppressed the nagging irritation in his mind, "Your noble and fair kin left us to die on the battle field. Your father who watched Erebor burn and..."
The dwarf felt the anger disappear from and swallowed the nauseating guilt that rose to his throat.
"My father didn't watch Erebor burn, surely he helped?" Lostoriel shot up and paced back and forth, not wanting to believe what she was being told. A part of her knew it was because her father had faced a dragon before and wouldn't risk the lives of their people. But to let them suffer without aid? To let them die? That was not the Adar she knew.
"He didn't. He marched back into your forest like a coward and turned my people away when we sought shelter." Spat Thorin as he rose, his arms across his chest.
"Do not speak ill of the elf to rekindle relations between our people." Lostoriel joined him on her feet, anger all but oozing from her.
"And you, stop defending the wrong doings of yours." He strode towards his voice a harsh half shout.
"The wrong doings?" She asked indignantly, her voice rising an octave as she stood her ground. "Wrong doings? If I am not mistaken it was your people who lied to us to gain more gold and rightly led to the dragon attacking!"
"And if I'm not mistaken, it was you who failed to defeat the dragon that took our home!" Thorin inhaled sharply, his nostril's flaring as he clenched his hand from the hilt of his sword. He hadn't realised he'd been holding it until now. He met Lostoriel's eyes with a fire that could've burned down the mountainside.
How dare he? She thought to herself, his words stung her deeper than any piercing from a blade. She held his gaze unwaveringly, his nose inches from her own. Lostoriel reached to her sides for her blades but hesitated when Balin appeared and firmly placed himself between them. The company watched anxiously from the entrance to the cave after they had heard the shouting.
"Would you two stop acting like children and move on from what has been done?" he stared unwaveringly at them both, "Yes, our people have had a great rift torn between them. But we are cold, we are miserable and I for one am tired of your insistent bickering. Just for one night can you two not go head to head? We need to get out of these mountains as quickly as possible and we will. Whether it be by you leading or it be with me kicking both your behinds to Erebor myself!" Balin was chilled to the bone, annoyed that they had disturbed his sleep and furious with the two royals who had been arguing the same argument for the past month.
A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled over the pair as they suddenly found interest in their boots. Balin was a kind and loving soul, but when pushed he was a bear ready to kill. Lostoriel and Thorin looked down in shame, reminding Balin of a pair of ill-behaved dwarflings. The old dwarf huffed tiredly, turning a fierce gaze on them both.
"Sorry Balin." Came their coughed replies, both were pink in the face and both were unwilling to meet his eyes. Good, he thought wryly, that'll teach them to act so foolishly.
"Right then!" Balin adjusted his belt buckle and pulled up his cowl. "If you're done I'm going to bed."
Lostoriel squared her shoulders, every inch of her body livid and seething with anger. She dropped her dagger into Thorin's lap, "You can finish my watch." The elf turned and followed Balin back into the warmth of the cave.
Three days later they had finally descended from the soaring heights of the inner mountains and trekked across the vast plains wedged in between the colossal giants that loomed in the heart and end of the Misty Mountains. The dwarves and Bilbo were grateful to be on the lower ground once again, dwarves had never much had a love for great heights. Being more accustomed to the mighty stone caverns that lay beneath the mountains. And the hobbit was relieved to be on solid ground where he could trip and fall all he wanted without crashing to his death.
The rain and wind mercilessly beat down upon them in the deep ravine they were struggling to travel through. The dwarves mumbled and groaned about their soaked boots and numb fingers. In the fury of a storm that they were caught in. Lostoriel was at the head of the column trying to find them a safe way to make it across the treacherous mountain range. The footpath appeared and disappeared every few forty metres and her light, elven stride was slipping on the wet stone. Hastily she pulled her cowl over her head, and blindly clung onto the stone on her left as a gust of wind tore through the ravine.
Her heart beat wildly in her chest and her limbs were shaking uncontrollably. Earlier in the day Thorin had begrudgingly asked her to lead them through the winding valley. Hoping that her elven senses would be able to lead them through the unforgiving, slippery terrain would get them to the other side, alive and uninjured. Now Lostoriel was afraid she wouldn't getting them anywhere safe and dry anytime soon. Anxiously she gulped, staring down the drop to the river swirling dangerously below them. The massive columns of sharp rock that jutted out the grey water would skewer them.
Lostoriel turned back to the path, blinking back raindrops that had seeped from her hair and into her eyes. It had been steadily raining for days now. And the entire company, including their infallible elf were thoroughly miserable. The rain had been a welcomed change from the summer heat, but had quickly become a nuisance. Their well-oiled cloaks were soaked to the fibre, their hair was matt and knotted and with every step Lostoriel winced as her drenched socks made a horrid squelching sound.
The company were spread closely on a narrow ledge on one side of a deep valley. Thunder and lightning filled the navy, almost black sky overhead. The ledge was slippery and difficult to follow. One false step, one stumble over a lose rock and they would be falling over the cliff down into the ravine where the river ran swiftly below them. The company cautiously stepped along the footpath, their hands running along the rock face to their left or holding tightly to the other so that they wouldn't fall.
"Hold on!" shouted Thorin over the thunder that roared above them, the wind tore around the slick rock threatening to blow them away whilst the heavy rains rode it like a battle horse and pummelled them from all directions.
Lostoriel squinted into the blanket of rain in front of them, the path led on clearly for the next twenty metres or so before it curved around the mountainside. "This way!" She called over the roaring of the thunder.
She could not see anything beyond that point in the darkness. Her stomach flipped, her instincts screamed that there was something was amiss. She just didn't know what. The elf fancied that through the monstrous thunder that she could hear a heartbeat. Or more feel it under her palm as she touched the rock beside her. She dismissed the thought with a smirk, legends were just legends.
A loud yell sounded over the thunder, Lostoriel whipped, her grey hood falling from her head as she saw Bilbo stumble forwards. Her heart leapt in her chest. She was too far down the line of dwarves for her to save him.
"I've got you!" Dwalin roughly shouted over the storm as he and Bofur pulled Bilbo back by his arms. Lostoriel released a shaky breath she hadn't known she'd been holding as Thorin yelled that they needed to find shelter.
Stating the obvious a bit thickly there aren't we? She thought to herself, pushing her hair away from where it plastered thickly over her eyes. They had barely moved on when faintly under her left palm she felt a steady beating. Not quite a heartbeat, but there was something about the mountain. Something alive. She barely finished the thought when there was a resounding cracking sound from above.
"Watch out!" screamed Dwalin as a boulder flew across the grey sky and collided with the mountainside above them. Shattering into hundreds of chunks that showered onto the company as they pressed themselves against the rock-wall, using their bodies to shield each other. Instinctively Thorin pulled Lostoriel backwards by her waist and crouched over her. Using his torso to shield her from the rock-shower.
For all his gallantry the elf was more annoyed than grateful. Thorin let her go once the projectiles had stopped. The dwarf flushed pink, but had no time to think about it when a giant- a massive, towering stone giant emerged from the mountain in front of them.
"This is no thunderstorm;" Began Balin, his beard flying in the wind looking very much like his legs felt. Flighty and shaking like jelly. "It's a thunder battle! Look!"
Lostoriel pushed herself against the rock, gaping like a fish out of water at the unbelievable sight of a giant. A stone giant. Holding a boulder roughly the size of its head in the light of the pale moonlight.
"Well bless me, the legends are true. Giants; Stone Giants!" she heard Bofur call in a mixture of surprise and fear over the howl of the wind. The dwarf stood precariously close to the edge of the cliff. But it wasn't him who she worried about. It was Bilbo who looked pale as death, eyes staring uncomprehendingly as fear pinned him to the spot.
The storm rattled on its drums and brought more rain upon them as the first giant released his, Lostoriel didn't know why she saw the stonegiant world as being male, projectile into the air. The massive boulder soared overhead and collided with a crash like thunder into the head of a second giant behind them.
"What the actual hell?" she yelled utterly astonished and terrified at the sight before her as the ground shook beneath her boots as the giants stomped on the valley floor below.
Then the unexplainable happened. A deep rumble resonated from the mountain. As if it were throwing in its two-cents in the battle. The lose stones rattled uncontrollably and an echoing sea of shouts emerged from the company as the mountain they stood on sprouted legs and began to move.
Lostoriel and Thorin locked eyes for a moment. Fear is what they both reflected. Pure and unbridled fear that swam urgently in their blue eyes.
"I bloody well told you so!" she yelled as they both looked down and noticed, with somersaulting bellies that they stood just below the knees of one leg of a stone giant. The company was split in two. Both halves hanging on for dear life as the two giants decided, oblivious to his little passengers threw a stone crushing left-hook punch at the giant from the first mountain. The sound was louder than Gandalf's firecrackers and hundreds chunks of rock flew into the air. Lostoriel was on the verge of hysterics when she turned and saw that Bilbo was on the other leg.
"Is this really the time to do this?!" he shouted back.
Thorin was too petrified to through back the witty retort on his tongue as they were thrown around like ragdolls. The first giant across the valley threw a right hook at their giant who stumbled backwards. Lostoriel gripped onto the rocks beside her with all she had, forcing herself to calm down. One arm stretched lowly and across Thorin's shoulders firmly pushing him against the rocks.
The small group of five, including Lostoriel watched in horror as the second group leapt to another spot on the mountain, only for a third giant to arise from the depths of the mountain. The hulking black-grey mass emerged with a gigantic crack! A boulder the size of a small car ready in its hands for a moment before it flung the rock with all its might at the head of the first giant. The mass of living rock stumbled backwards on impact, taking the small group of dwarves with it as it fell lifelessly into the chasm below.
"No! No!" yelled Thorin desperately as Lostoriel screamed Bilbo's name out with all her might. Her booming voice cracking when the giant's leg smashed into the mountainside. A cascade of chunks and sharp pieces of rocks showered the mountainside. The thunderous noise blending seamlessly with the screams of anguish from the group of dwarves and one elf.
Lostoriel was pinned to the spot. Her limbs were lead. She didn't want to see what lay beyond the small outcrop as the giant fell away into the darkness.
"No! Fili!" Thorin brushed passed her, rushing towards where his youngest nephew was. This galvanised Lostoriel into action as she sprinted to catch up with him. The dwarves, only the dwarves, lay heaped on one another as Balin shakily rose and laughed, telling them that they were all alive and unharmed. Lostoriel was relieved to see them all lying their perfectly alive, however she whipped around. Tense as a bowstring as her eyes darted about looking for Bilbo.
Bofur and her shared the same look of mortification, "Where's Bilbo?" they both asked in unison, panic taking over them.
"Where's the Hobbit!?" he shouted.
Ori saw him first pointing him out to the company before dropping to the ground and throwing his arm out for Bilbo to take. The hobbit, who had hung from the cliff's edge with his fingertips dropped a few metres down. Before he could even finish screaming in fear Lostoriel was halfway to him, both legs firmly planted on outcroppings and one arm grabbing him by his waist.
"I've got you!" she shouted to him.
Thorin swung down to the right of the hobbit, looking openly annoyed that he had to save the small being. He locked eyes with Lostoriel from above, the unspoken message clear before they both shoved him up the cliff. The elf hissed as she pushed him with all her strength, whilst hanging loosely by one arm herself.
Then the pressure was eased from the elf and dwarf as their companions hoisted Bilbo onto the cliff.
Thorin turned to her, nodding his head upwards, "Come on, you first!"
She didn't understand why he insisted on protecting her. She was perfectly capable of doing so on her own.
The elf gazed upward to where Dwalin was bent over the cliff, reaching down to Thorin, who was closer to him than she was.
"Lostoriel!" his voice rose as he began to fall, but was caught by Dwalin whose vice like grip on his wrist held no suggestion of letting him go.
Their elven companion managed to pull her way to where Thorin was hanging and grabbed a handful of his coat at his waist, pushing him upwards as Dwalin pulled. Lostoriel climbed up, huffing and puffing for air, as Thorin was tugged to the cliff's edge. Dwarves were much heavier than hobbits and her taught biceps were now shaking like jelly as Dwalin reached down for her.
"Come on elf!" he grunted, pushing himself over the cliff so that his fingertips brushed against hers. "Reach up to me!" his voice was desperate.
"I'm trying! Just give me a moment!" she called up stubbornly, her limbs now shaking uncontrollably. Lostoriel heaved in a deep breath, willing her body to calm down and her muscles to cease their wobbling.
The rain slid between her fingers, she could feel their strength beginning to wane and the gust of wind blowing through the chasm didn't help. Lostoriel gritted her teeth and let go of the wall with her left hand, pulling herself up and reaching for Dwalin's outstretched hand with her right one. Only to lose her handhold and slip another metre down the rock. Her stomach flipped violently as she fell, the cries of her name echoing down with her as she managed to swing herself into the rock and grab a hold of a small jut of stone in the wall.
"Come on! You have to climb!" Dwalin screamed down to her, as he made to climb over the cliff.
Lostoriel inhaled deeply to calm herself, she could feel her body beginning to panic. Her limbs shook like leaves and she could only see herself falling. She spat the rainwater out her mouth, "Stay up there! I can make it!" she yelled over the thunder.
But Dwalin was stubborn. As Lostoriel gained a hold of herself he shimmied over the cliff and climbed down a metre or so. Finding easy handholds that would allow him to reach her hand. At the same time Lostoriel used all her strength to push herself upwards, the rock was slippery and icy under her fingertips. She tried not to pay attention to the fear crawling up her throat as she swung her leg up and onto a small outcropping, then hauled her right hand up to another just below Dwalin's boots.
Her other leg swiftly followed, feeling the tiny piece of rock beneath her toe. The elf reached out and up onto the rock face, finding a slippery jut to grab on to and haul herself up. Lostoriel was in reach of Dwalin's hands now and she reached out with one hand, maintaining her rule of three limbs on the rock as Dwalin grabbed a hold of her arm below the wrist and began to pull her up. Lostoriel managed to throw up her left arm and Thorin caught it, bent over the cliff and being held down by his ankles.
They heaved her onto the cliff and she gratefully sank to the ground, breathlessly thanking them as she did so. Gloin, Thorin and the stronger dwarves helped to tug Dwalin up and over the cliff, practically throwing him against the rock wall as they did so. Heaving and puffing for breath.
Lostoriel turned to Bilbo laying a hand on his shoulder, "Don't you ever do something so stupid like that again! You scared me half way to death!" she scolded him, a smile playing on her lips telling him she meant no harm. Though he hoped she saw the happiness and relief that they were both alive in his features, he didn't trust his voice to tell her.
"I thought we'd lost our burglar and our elfling!" Remarked Dwalin, an unexpected surge of relief flooding his features.
The warm moment that passed between the dwarves and hobbit was short lived when Thorin practically spat his next words, still livid from having had to risk his life for the Halfling. Perhaps they had been right to leave without him all those months ago in the Shire.
His face twisted into a scowl, "He's been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come. They have no place amongst us. Dwalin!"
Thorin called for him as he marched off to find a cave that they could rest in. The pair rounded a corner and found a shallow cave.
"It looks safe enough." Said Dwalin, gripping his axe tightly, already smelling the fire that they would light. As he made to walk into the cave Thorin grabbed his arm, shaking his head and calling for Kili and Lostoriel to join them.
"Search to the back; caves in mountains are seldom unoccupied." He commanded them as Dwalin lit an oil lantern, the pale light outlining the entrance to the cave. Lostoriel squinted at its brightness, it seemed foreign in the darkness.
The elf entered the cave first, an arrow already notched and her eyes searching every inch of the cave illuminated by the light Dwalin carried. The light bounced off his axe, casting strange shadows on Thorin and Kili who followed closely behind them.
"There's nothing here." Called the gruff dwarf coming from a small walled off area in the back of the cave.
"It's all clear here too!" Lostoriel's voice bounced off the walls as she rounded a corner and came into the circle of light. "Seems safe enough." She said confidently, though the uneasy squirming in her gut told her otherwise. Her eyes adjusted to the dim blue light of the cave, she noticed that the inner most part of it- where they were- was shielded from the howling winds by two large faces of rocks that acted as walls. This would protect them from the cold which the elf now felt in her feet.
She shifted uncomfortably, frowning at the clammy sensation she received when she wiggled her toes in her rain- drenched socks. Elves weren't supposed to feel the cold as acutely as mortals were. However after spending the better part of two days hiking through the rain she now understood why mortals, namely the dwarves, had been complaining.
The Company swarmed into the cave, shrugging off their wet bags and cloaks with sighs of relief. Gloin hurriedly sat himself in the centre of the cave, dropping a bundle of wood and kindling onto the floor, unsettling the dust as he did so. Bilbo's loud sneeze echoed in the dim moonlight that fell into the cave.
"No, No fires, not in this place." Said Thorin, wearily looking around the cave as if waiting for some foul creature to jump out at them, "Get some sleep. We start at first light."
Balin and Lostoriel turned to him surprised, "We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us. That was the plan." Piped up the old dwarf, one hand resting firmly on his hip. Thorin resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, some things never changed with Balin. They had spent too much time wandering the mountains, if they tarried there would be a slim chance of them passing into Rhovanion before the first days of autumn. Waiting for Gandalf would mean them not making it to Erebor in time.
"Plans change. Bofur, take the first watch." Came Thorin's clipped reply, dismissing Balin without a second thought. The dwarf would have argued with him, but his old bones begged for rest. He could feel his back muscles and knees creaking as he stretched himself forward.
Lostoriel seated herself near the outer entrance of the cave, not bothering to argue with Thorin. Shaking off her pack, quiver and cloak, Lostoriel set the heavy, soaked garment on a small cleft of rock to dry and res-trapped her quiver to the leather belt around her waist.
Bilbo and Bofur watched her with identical frowns on their faces. Lostoriel flexed her bowstring experimentally, taking in the damage of the past two miserable days.
Bofur reclined on a boulder, waiting to see how long it would take her to notice them.
"What are you doing?" asked Bilbo, his arms crossed and one furry eyebrow arched. For a moment he reminded Lostoriel of an angry squirrel, the elf bit down a smirk.
"I am letting the you all rest, it has been a long day." The elf stood erect, her bow held loosely in her left hand, the other hovering over the quiver on her right.
Bilbo nearly gasped, one thing he had yet to get used to be that Lostoriel didn't need to sleep as much as they did. The thought baffled him. The hobbit didn't know much about elves, other than what Gandalf had told him and from the little he had read of from books in Hobbiton.
Lostoriel rolled her eyes at the exasperated expression on his face. This was not the first and would not be the last time the pair had argued over her concerning sleep pattern. Bilbo stamped his foot on the ground, laughing wryly at the ceiling and then at the elf, wagging a finger at her.
"Fine. I'm not fighting with you about this again. Fall off the cliff, your problem."
The elf snorted indignantly, about to protest when Bofur added his tidbit.
"He's right you know. You need rest. You're use to anyone half asleep."
The elf rolled her eyes, she had gone for weeks without sleep. She could handle it. But the dwarf stubbornly ignored her pleads and gave her an equally as stern look.
"Sleep now." Both he and Bilbo commanded in unison.
"Fine," huffed the elf, reminding Bofur of a dwarfling, "but wake me up and I'll take the next one." Lostoriel followed Bilbo into further into the cave, the fluttering snores getting louder with each step. She didn't bother unrolling her bedroll and propped herself up against the wall. Pulling her cloak over her body and resting her bow across her knees.
The cowl of her cloak shrouded her face in shadow and the indiscernible pattern of the grey-green material blended into the darkness of the rock. Breaking up the shape of her body and moulding her into the mountainside.
Satisfied that she was resting Bofur seated himself firmly against the rock wall, his tired eyes looking out into the gloom, watching the rain pound on the cave entrance.
Lostoriel however wasn't asleep, something about the cave made her uneasy. It was too clean, too shallow, like something was going to grab them out of the darkness. To distract herself she began to imagine the WoodLand Realm and tried her best to recall her memories. Which had by now come back to her, though Lostoriel was beginning to wish that she could go back to being blissfully ignorant. There were parts of her past that she didn't want to remember, parts that were still hazy around the edges and one in particular she wished hadn't happened.
She sighed heavily through her nose as she recalled the last words she had spoken to her father. The livid anger in which she had told him that she would never forgive him for what he had done. What he and Thrain had so readily agreed upon. Lostoriel's gaze discreetly turned to Thorin, who lay on his side on the opposite end of the cave. Earlier that day she had remembered her father forbidding any contact with him, no more delegations were to be sent to Erebor, no more trade agreements were to be received from Erebor, or sent to the mountain kingdom.
She had never gotten the chance to tell Thorin all this. And now whatever friendship they had held amounted to nothing. He was no longer the naïve dwarf prince who held a strong hope in his heart for the fall of the
Eventually her eyes glazed over, but no rest would come to her that night.
"Grandfather" pleaded Thorin trying to lead him away, his eyes begging Lostoriel to help.
Thror leapt from Thorin's grasp and dived head first into the moving treasure hoard when Lostoriel caught him and shoved him to the ground just as Smaug's spiked tail whipped over them.
Thorin dropped to the ground, screaming in pain when one of the spikes cut across his back.
Smaug reared up, the fire burning within his belly, turning his scales bright orange. Lostoriel clutched the shield in front of her, running backwards across the stone corridor and ducking behind a pillar as his fire threw itself across the opening.
Lostoriel bit her lips as she tried not to scream in pain or fear when the heat of the fire touched her skin. She looked around, Thorin was nowhere to be seen. He had promised he would come back. That he wouldn't let her die defending his home. She only hoped now that he wouldn't
"Riel!" She caught sight of Thorin's hair before Smaug reared onto his hind legs, standing at his full height, his scales glowing amber before he fell forward and released a firestorm into the treasure. She stole a glance at where Thorin's voice had come from.
But had no time to process his retreating form when the gold melted under the inferno, the jewels sweeping Lostoriel away as the dragon clambered towards her, snapping his ginormous snout at her. She was taken in under the tidal wave of treasure, she felt her heartrate increase, and her breathing came in harsh gasps as she clawed towards whatever pockets of air she could find beneath the jewels.
Lostoriel awoke gasping, her left side burning furiously.
"You're dwarves, you're used to this life. Living on the road, not belonging anywhere!" Bilbo's harsh whispers cut through her panic
"No you're right." Came Bofur's sullen reply. "We don't belong anywhere."
The heat that emanated from her side had a golden twinge to it, were her blades glowing? Her stomach turned nauseatingly. Something was amiss. Lostoriel shook herself out of the memory, looking confusedly at the intense exchange between Bofur and Bilbo.
She heard the clicking and creaking of metal mechanisms beneath them just as Bilbo's sword began to glow blue. Then she heard it. A slithering. The sound of sand slipping away.
They were trapped.
"Everybody up! NOW!" She roared just as Thorin got to his feet, yelling for their companions to wake up.
Lostoriel glowered at him, but she had no time to be angry when a line snaked across the cave floor. Sand slithering through it as it split the floor in half. They did not register what was happening the as cave floor collapsed beneath them and they were falling.
Lostoriel clutched her dagger and bow to her chest as her scream mingled with those of the dwarves and Bilbo. They were sliding down an enormous tunnel, they tried to find grips along the rock walls, but it had been worn smooth. Helplessly they slid down the tunnels, screaming unintelligible cries and several curse words that Bilbo had never heard before.
The elf's heart leapt into her mouth as the air was stolen from her lungs. The darkness of the tunnel at some point gave way to flickering fire light and then to an icy gust of air as they reached a large cavern. One by one the dwarves slid off the chute and into a massive wooden cage. Lostoriel only dared to open her eyes when she felt herself land on Ori, knocking the air from him and then stumbling over him again when Fili crashed into her from behind.
Chaos. The dwarves kept tumbling and falling all over each other when a horde of goblins descended upon them. The horrid, foul-smelling creatures blindly punched, kicked and lashed out at them in their frenzy. The dwarves attempted to fight back, several of the goblins received broken ribs or a fractured jaw, but the creatures were smart. They utilised the company's disorientation to grope at them and strip them of their weapons, grasping their wrists together in a bone-crushing grip and leading them off into the cavern. The dwarves made it difficult for them, kicking and screaming at the foul beasts.
A particularly hideous goblin attacked Lostoriel, kicking her in the shins then the knees and punching her in the stomach. The elf gasped as the air left her body, the goblin hoped to injure her, but he only aggravated her. Lostoriel swung a left-hook at his oval face, her fists collided with its face with a satisfying crack and knocked a few teeth clean out from its mouth.
The goblin snarled at her clawing at her leather belt and ripping the buckle from its hinge. Then a second goblin, this one slimy and a pale shade of green-grey, attempted to knock the butt of its sword into her head. But Lostoriel was faster, gripping its forearm and suddenly twisting it and hooking her boot behind its ankle, pulling it backwards and kicking out forwards, flipping the goblin onto its back.
Lostoriel swung another heavy punch at the first goblin, twisting to the right and sending another deadly left hook to the same place on its face. The elf snarled down at the creature as the combined weight of her back muscles and arm sent the goblin flying to the edge of the cage. Hastily moved grab her leather belt from where landed when the goblin had been airborne.
The cage was empty and the cavern quiet. It was only now that Lostoriel noticed that the dwarves were long gone, she could hear their cries echoing down the long passageway. It was now that she also gagged as the bitter, sour scent of filth, unwashed bodies and decay hit her like wrecking ball.
Lostoriel quickly knotted her belt around her waist, her eyes searching desperately for her bow. She searched the entire cage and only came across one of Fili's swords. As she bent to the right she caught a flash of brown hair and the sound of ragged breathing from behind the wood of the cage.
"Bilbo?" she asked, supressing a sigh of relief as the hobbit popped up from behind the wooden rails. Lostoriel quickly embraced him, a hand resting on his curly hair, "Are you hurt?"
The hobbit, wide-eyed and lightly trembling shook his head, "No, no I'm not. Are you? Where are we?"
"No, just a bit bruised." Lostoriel took another look at their surroundings as they noiselessly stepped out of the cage and treaded down the passageway. Crouching low in the dim light to keep out of sight. The elf loosely held her sword on her hand, the other on Bilbo's shoulder as she pulled him down behind a pile of discarded wheels and wood, their eyes never leaving the pair of goblins that were scuttling down the passageway. Once they were out of Lostoriel's ear shot, she turned to Bilbo.
"I believe that we have the privilege of visiting Goblin Town."
"Goblin Town." He looked at her like she was off her rockers. His nose twitched, the name and notion of a small town of goblins buried in the depths of the misty mountains seemed absurd to him. Then taking in their surroundings Bilbo realised that it wasn't absurd at all, rather it felt as if he was living a terrible nightmare.
Bilbo gulped, nodding to himself, "Right. Goblin Town." Then noticing that Lostoriel wasn't with him he scurried off, following the pale, white light that radiated from her. Idly he wondered if she knew that she was glowing.
Lostoriel frowned in the light of Bilbo's sword, seeing bones littered across the ground, streaks of mud and several waterskins, boots and other dusty pieces of travelling equipment carelessly scattered on the wooden bridge they crossed. They were obviously not the first travellers to become ensnared in the goblin's trap.
The hobbit and elf scampered along the bridge and eventually caught up with the Company. They trailed them down a short pipe of tunnel where Bilbo's sword light reflected off the wall as they rounded the corner.
Without warning three goblins lunged at them, their sickle blades hacking and stabbing at the odd pair. The tallest and most brutish of the three stabbed at Lostoriel, who instantaneously parried his blade with her sword, unsheathing her dagger with her left hand and in the same movement slashed it across its throat.
Immediately the second goblin aimed his sword for her head, whilst the third goblin went for Bilbo. Its crude sword moving too quickly for the hobbit to parry and leaving him to duck and clumsily flail his glowing sword at the creature. Lostoriel had managed to get into the goblin's space, tramp its foot under her heeled boot and thrusting her sword into its heart. The blade coming away drenched in black blood and swinging a heavy blow at the third goblin's calves. The goblin fell backwards, regaining its footing as it tried to hack at Lostoriel's side. Bilbo thrusted his sword at its arm, cutting it just above the elbow and causing the goblin to howl in pain. Lostoriel swung at its back, slicing it just above the hip, then thrusted her sword into its leather armour and just piercing its fleshy back.
Her stroke was clean and heavy, but it didn't hit home. The goblin had no time to comprehend what happened when Bilbo thrashed out at it and the creature stumbled over the edge of the platform. As it went down the goblin clawed at Bilbo's coat and took him down into the depths of goblin town.
"Lostoriel!" his cry for help echoed as he fell.
"No! No Bilbo!" she yelled after him, her blood freezing. Sheathing her sword and ducking beneath the rails, Lostoriel began to hastily clamber down the slippery rock. The cold biting into her fingertips and the stone bending her nails. She didn't feel the pain, her mind was preoccupied with getting down to Bilbo as quickly as possible. Lostoriel hoped with everything within her that she would find her friend alive and without serious injury. She didn't know what she'd do if he was dead.
Suddenly her foot slipped and she lost her hold on the small ledge and fell another three feet into the darkness. Lostoriel tried not to yell, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to whatever might be lurking at the bottom. She caught onto a thick overhang with one hand, her shoulder pulled dangerously from the impact. She hoped she hadn't dislocated it. The other flailing about until she brought it to the ledge and hulled herself over and clambered to the rock wall for safety.
Lostoriel heaved for breath as she calmed herself, peaking over the side she saw that she still had far to go. The elleth only hoped that Bilbo was still alive and that this would be a rescue, not a recovery. Lostoriel eyed the wall for a pathway down and she found one. One that would leave her bruised and exhausted by the end. But Bilbo was more important than herself.
The elleth rose shakily, moving to the edge of the overhang she stretched one leg to the next small jut of rock and her hands to the large hand holds she found.
"Okay, you can do this." She assured herself.
"One hand and foot at a time." Lostoriel began to descend carefully, her limbs barely slipping, but shaking as if she were a climbing earthquake. She was halfway down when she could hear the quiet rippling of water and the screeching cries of a goblin being killed.
Lostoriel missed her foothold again, she tried to propel herself forward, but it was no use. She was falling and falling fast into the depths of the misty mountains. She closed her eyes and prayed that when she hit the ground it would be the end. She didn't want to become goblin food, she didn't want to be paralysed.
But instead of the hard ground she landed back first in a freezing lake of water. The air was knocked from her lungs, as she flailed for the surface. She had sunk all the way to the bottom, her arrows lost to the water and her bow getting tangled in her cloak. When she hit the sand at the bottom of the freezing lake the elf gasped for air and immediately swallowed more. Her lungs burned, desperately screaming at her to reach the surface.
She kicked off the lakebed and shot through the water, only to be weighed down by her woollen cloak. Lostoriel blindly fumbled and tugged at the button that held the cloak across her shoulders, losing more air and inadvertently breathing in more water as she yanked it free. Quickly she pulled the cloak out from beneath her quiver and tightly gripped onto her bow. Her lungs felt as if they might burst in her chest, her heart pounded like an axe hitting the anvil. Then something dove into the murky depths and yanked her upwards by the hair.
Lostoriel twisted and writhed in the water as a pair of scrawny legs came into her vision and the creature clawed at her face. Its small, bony hand attempting to clamp over her nose and mouth. The elf reached up to grab its hands, feeling her hair twisted around on of them and tried to pry them off her. Her nails dug into its skin and the creature bit her on her shoulder. Its tiny, sharp teeth dug deep into her flesh and her dark, crimson blood began to gently waft into the water.
Lostoriel screamed as it removed its teeth from her shoulder and immediately regretted doing so as water rushed into her body, filling her lungs and causing her to thrash violently against the creature's grip.
As it forcefully grabbed her under her arm, she could see the dull, pulsating light of the water when she was yanked by her hair out of the water and onto dry land. The elf hastily gasped for air, still trashing and sputtered trying to free herself from the hands that held her, but it was no use.
She was much too weak and couldn't breathe, there was too much water in her lungs. The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was a pair of startling blue eyes and little teeth that grinned hungrily at her. Then a rock collided with her head with a resounding crack and Lostoriel knew no more.
That was a long one! Sorry that this one took so long to post! Life has gotten busy... I think updates will come later than usual, but worry not I'll still try to post regularly...
A massive thank you to Lancelot who helped to write this one! I appreciate it so much! My apologies for all the angst , I'm happy you love it!
Thank you for all the reviews too! If you enjoyed this chapter feel free to leave one! It'd be good to hear from you all!
ro781727: Thank you for the review! Yeah, most of the company would be too young to recall the legend, but the older members of the Company would know it... Yeah Fili and Kili got what they had coming to them. I think it might be a while until Thorin finally comes to his senses about her, we shall see...Daenerys Targaryen... Interesting... Yeah I suppose she does look like her a little, though I've pictured her a little differently. Taller and with a more angular face. Definitely without the affinity for dragons though