Lostoriel plonked the sacksful of meat into the bowl that Beorn had left on the small table in the kitchen and wrapped the dish cloth he had left with it over the bowl. She unslung her quiver from her back, leaving it alongside the recurve bow at the door, Beorn wouldn't eat the meat, but the Dwarves would definitely appreciate a generous helping of venison that Bombur would only be too pleased to cook.
As dawn broke out over the world she had, with Beorn's permission since these were his lands, gone hunting and had caught a small deer for their lunch. Lostoriel had skinned and cleaned it, somewhat uncertainly after not having needed to kill an animal for food in more years than she was willing to admit. Earth had definitely spoiled her medieval ways, she thought with a wry smile as she washed her hands in the wooden sink at the window.
It was a fine day, the sun happily washed the world in yellow, the air was crisp with the rusty scent of autumn and Beorn's garden stretched out forever. Flowers of every species covered the vast expanse as honey bees droned on and the farm animals called out to one another. She dried her hands off with the towel hanging above the sink and ran a hand through her damp hair. She grimaced, it was greasy, feeling thin and pasty in her hands. Her clothes did not fare any better, especially not after she accidentally walked into several thickets of brambles in the dark and managed to rip her leggings and skin in several places.
Causally, with her legs stinging, Lostoriel sauntered back into the barn where the sound of shuffling and intense murmuring carried from the Dwarves to her ears. They had seen no sign of Bolg or Azog or their troop that morning. Beorn, Sunflower and herself had managed to ward them off in the wee hours of the morning with a few cleverly shot arrows and Beorn growling quietly as he patrolled the area around his home. Lostoriel had still not been able to shake off the fear that had encroached on her thoughts the previous night, she had caught a glimpse of the dark expanse of the GreenWood as she travelled back to Beorn's house and a new, claustrophobic fear clutched onto her every move.
She rounded the corner into the dining room and the sight before her eyes warmed her heart.
The murmuring had turned out to be the Dwarves, gathered around Gandalf, frantically attempting to discuss her apparent disappearance in the middle of the night. They were all arguing amongst themselves, Bilbo stood to one side with balled fists as they continued to throw questions that he only had one answer for.
Lostoriel met Gandalf's eyes from where he stood, looking exhausted as he leaned on his staff, holding his waist and raised both his eyebrows in amusement. The message was clear, they were both shocked to see dwarves, dwarves worrying over an elf.
Lostoriel leant against the dining table and watched the chaos unfold before her, Sunflower trotted in and immediately pushed her nose into Lostoriel's palm. "Oh, good morning girl." she bent down to pet the wolf's massive face, "Seems we've given them quite a scare. I only wish that I could record it somehow."
A pang of longing struck her, there were some things she was definitely beginning to miss about life on Earth.
No elf would believe her if she told them about how Dwalin searched every inch of the cow pens, cursing and muttering about several different parts of Durin as he did so. Or how Bofur at one point asked Bombur if he had eaten the elf.
"Are you sure you saw her leave?" Asked Fili, thoughtfully scratching his chin as he gazed suspiciously at Bilbo and cutting through Lostoriel's amusement.
"Of course I did." the hobbit huffed, "Do you honestly think I'd lie about something like this?" Bilbo jabbed a thumb at the barn doors, sounding entirely annoyed with them, "I saw her leave with Beorn and the wolf and she hasn't returned."
So he had been awake when she had left! Idly, she wondered if he had told the Dwarves or Gandalf about his ring.
"Course we don't Mr Boggins," Kili winked mischievously at him. Lostoriel smiled at the back of Kili's head, when that dwarf wouldn't manage to make a joke out of everything she .know. "Don't worry Bilbo. She'll appear at some point. After all, all that is lost finds a way back."
The dwarves murmured their assent and began to throw a barrage of questions at Bilbo.
Lostoriel watched Thorin gaze lovingly at his nephews. From the gentle, yet firm way he treated them, she knew that Thorin loved the boys as his own sons and from previous conversation with the young dwarves had come to know that they looked up to him as if he were that stars guided them. Vaguely she wondered if he knew how much they loved him.
"Kili." he called and frowned when Kili made his way to him. Thorin gritted his teeth and sighed again. This time Lostoriel had to bite back a laugh as he called his eldest nephew, her friend was truly aging.
Kili and it must be said that Lostoriel too, tried their best to suppress their laughter under a scoff, however they all knew that Kili was in fits of the straight face he managed to maintain and no one had yet noticed the scoffing elf.
"What is it Uncle?" Fili never got to hear what Thorin had to ask when Bilbo's cry echoed through the barn.
Lostoriel thought it was time to put them out of their misery and strode forward, out of the shadows and into the warm morning light that, streamed through the open windows of the barn.
"Good morning!" greeted Lostoriel from the top of the stairs, a wide smile plastered across her face.
A collective sigh of relief sounded from the dwarves, Gandalf simply raised his eyebrows and tipped his pipe forward, seemingly unfazed by the elf's disappearance. Then again, Gandalf was unfazed by many things.
"Good morning," said Bilbo with a huff, he was in a foul mood.
"Good morning!" he declared exasperatedly and stalked towards her, "good morning my foot!"
His usually calm face was scrunched up in anger as he stood with his fists on his hip. The elf recoiled ever so slightly wondering why he was so angry with her. She stepped back, nearly falling over Sunflower, who decided that the best place to rest would be directly behind her heels.
"No note!" scolded Bilbo, "No telling any of us where you went! Running off into the night with a beast that could've killed you! Had the lot of us searching for you for half the morning! And now you appear bright and early in the morning with that reckless grin on your face! "He huffed taking in her ripped leggings and shirt, "And with torn clothing! What did you do last night? For all we knew you could've been dead! "
The dwarves and Gandalf shared uncomprehending stares amongst themselves as their calm, composed and well behaved burglar as he scolded the elf.
Lostoriel copied his pose and rolled her eyes, momentarily lost for words. Bilbo Baggins was truly a force to be reckoned with and Lostoriel knew it, the way he narrowed his eyes at her starkly reminded her of Galion when he'd scold her for getting up to mischief with her brother. She opened her dry mouth to speak, "Well... You see…Uhmm..."
Dwalin leaned towards Thorin whilst Lostoriel struggled to find her tongue. The dwarf smirked, "Who knew that all we had to do was infuriate a hobbit to silence an elf."
"I heard that Dwalin." she glared at him and then at Bilbo, "Firstly, has it occurred to you lot that I am able to take care of myself? And secondly whilst you lot of princesses were getting your beauty sleep and snoring to awaken every beast from hell through purgatory and onto the plains of life, Beorn and I were keeping watch."
The Company frowned at her strange remark, her voice quietened, and "A second orc pack was waiting for us in the woods. I haven't seen any sign of them since the early morning and thanks to Beorn I don't expect they'll be coming back. "
Thorin stepped away from the group, his thick brows furrowed together in deep concern that rattled his chest, "This is ill news. Who leads this second pack? And what of Azog?"
Lostoriel skipped the steps and landed on the ground with a soft thud with Sunflower plodding her. The wolf had taken a hesitant liking to the elf, she was uncertain as to whether she wanted to trust the strange two-legged being, but her overriding sense of curiosity had pushed all that aside.
"Bolg the son of Azog. He had at least ten or so orcs and wargs with him, he is no ordinary hunter, Thorin." the waves of worry in her grey eyes only amplified his anxiety, "Azog rode North East in the direction of Mirkwood." she frowned, the word tasted bitter on her tongue. "There is more."
Before she could carry on Gandalf coughed, breaking the thick tension in the room, he beckoned towards the door. "We have much to speak about indeed, this is foul news. But let us deal with what we can chew for now." he smiled weakly, "We must still introduce ourselves to our host."
Nori jumped forward, he was accustomed to knowing when a fish was too big to fry and decided that this was one of those times, "I say we leg it! Slip out the back way!" he spun around and made for the door.
Lostoriel planted herself in the way of the door, effectively blocking his exit as Dwalin grabbed him by his shoulder and spun him around. He gazed firmly into the thief's eyes, "I'm not running for anyone, beast or no'." he growled as Nori slammed himself into his chest.
"There's no arguing about it," said Gandalf quietly, cutting them off from any further scuffling, "if what Lostoriel has said is true then we cannot pass through the Wilderland without Beorn's help. We'll be hunted down, before we even get to the forest."
At this the Dwarves said nothing, the fear all too apparent in their eyes, "We must tread very carefully. The last person to have startled him was torn to shreds." Gandalf sharply reminded them and stepped into the middle of the loose circle, not failing to notice the anxious glance that passed between Thorin and his nephews. "You must all wait here until it is safe for you to come out in pairs. Do not overcrowd him."
"And don't make any sudden movements." Added Lostoriel.
"You'll all come out in pairs," Gandalf looked apologetically at Bombur, who already had a serviette tucked neatly into his collar and half a carrot in his mouth. "Except for you Bombur, you count as two."
The Dwarves laughed nervously at the sally, though their fear was palpable. Lostoriel had felt the same way the previous night and after having somewhat, spoken highly about the Company, she was not sure if Gandalf's plan was entirely foolproof. "Right then. Wait for the signal. Bilbo, Lostoriel you'll come with me first."
Lostoriel blanched and took a step backwards, already shaking her head, "What? No." she did not like the pleading look in Gandalf's eyes. She held her hands out, "I've already met him. He and I are on good terms and I do not want to be torn to shreds thank you very much."
"We can use that to our advantage. You don't have much of a choice in this, my dear."
She glared at the wizard, who remained unperturbed and stepped aside for her to have a clear path to the door. Lostoriel bristled with frustration, she hated when Gandalf was right. Behind her Thorin nodded to Bilbo and the hobbit weaved his way out from behind Fili and Kili, "Is this safe, Gandalf?"
"Yes." Answered the wizard as Lostoriel answered, "No."
Meeting Beorn had been disastrous. Gandalf had given the Dwarves explicit instructions to not come out the house until he gave the signal that it was safe for them to show themselves. Bofur valiantly hopped up onto a barrel to observe the proceedings from a circular window set in the barn wall and keep a look out for the signal, which Gandalf, had of course forgotten to tell them what it exactly was.
Lostoriel sighed and held a hand over her mouth to keep her sharp tongue at bay.
"We're going to die aren't we?" she had asked to no one in particular as Beorn tightened the grip on his axe and towered above them, radiated with displeasure. Bilbo had firstly peaked out from behind Gandalf and had irked the skin changer , then the dwarves spilled out of the house like sweets from a knocked over jar and Beorn turned his fiery gaze on Lostoriel.
"You did not care to tell me that you travelled with Dwarves." He stated, taking a threatening step forward. Lostoriel gulped nervously as Beorn stood only a few paces away, his bulk form towered over her.
Gandalf shook his head at the dwarves, who stood off to one side, mainly Dwalin who had bunched his hands into fists and had to be held back by Balin.
Beorn growled, his temper was rapidly rising and Lostoriel knew it. "I gave you weapons, information and you lied to me. An elf in league with dwarves is a feat unheard of in every land. Tell me elfling, have I any reason to still trust you?"
The elf opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again as she attempted to formulate the right words. She could see him ripping her to shreds in her mind's eye and blanched once again as she stepped backwards to look up at his face. Lostoriel smiled sheepishly as she tried to save her hide, "You didn't tell me you were chieftain people. However on the subject of trust-"
Lostoriel wished that the earth would open beneath her feet as Beorn's expression darkened. Something flickered in the side of her eye, the skin changer saw it too and spun in its direction. Thorin had decided to show himself. The dwarf king slowly walked down the steps and lowered his head, the wind fluttered through his raven hair and the sunlight glistened off the beads silver that adorned his braids, reminding Lostoriel of the stars glittering against the night sky.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Beorn beat him to it, "Thorin Oakenshield." Said Beorn in an awed tone, this time he bowed lowly and rose with a deeper frown on his face. He turned to Lostoriel, "You failed to mention he was a Dwarf king."
"You failed to mention that you did not like dwarves." Beorn considered her statement, studying her flustered face, then her companions and seemed to come to a decision.
"So you are the one they call Oakenshield." said Beorn as more of a statement than a question whilst he poured a generous helping of fresh milk into Fili's too large tankard. "Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"
Thorin leaned against the pillar not far from the table, his arms held tightly across his chest as he guardedly regarded Beorn. "You know of Azog? How?"
"My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the Orcs came down from the north. The Defiler attempted to kill many of my people." Beorn's eyes hardened, "He and his followers raided our villages, sent spies into the towns of men who already saw us as outsiders to pillage our land and set fire to our crops."
The skinchanger glanced at Lostoriel, who unknowingly stared at the shackle on one of his wrists, "They captured you." She whispered as the realisation smacked her in the face. It had been too dark the previous night to notice the rusted manacles around his wrist.
"Aye princess. Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."
Lostoriel absentmindedly brushed her fingers through her hair as she felt the weight of Azog's foot on her back, the metal biting into her skin and his hand around her neck as he squeezed the air out of her and stripped her of her dignity.
"There are others like you?" asked Bilbo, his curiosity had once again overtaken his imagination.
"Once we were a people of many. We are still strong in number and in strength. Many of us were lucky to have escaped, to have defeated those vile creatures, but not all of us. "
The Company fell into silence, many of their hearts sinking at the crestfallen eyes of Beorn. He seemed to age in that moment, his entire being seeming to shrink before them. Then he straightened his shoulders and glanced between Gandalf and Thorin. "You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?"
He had long since guessed the reason for Thorin Oakenshield travelling this far East. The elf had been tight-lipped about why they were in his home, not outwardly expressing her distrust of the skinchanger, saying that it was not her place to tell him of their travels. He had accepted her answer graciously and had deduced the rest by the remaining three members of Durin's line standing before him in his garden.
"Before Durin's Day falls, yes." Answered Gandalf with a nod, setting down his tankard and wiping away the milk that had fallen on his beard.
"You are running out of time."
"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood."
The new name of her forest sent shivers running up Lostoriel's spine. She hated it. She hated that everyone she had asked had been unwilling to tell her what had become of her home that the woodsmen would begin to call it as such. Beorn leaned against the wall above the unburning heart, regarding them all, but his eyes looking sorrowfully at Lostoriel.
"A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things creep beneath those trees, spiders of the spawn of Ungolith, wargs and serpents. There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. The WoodElves say he grows in power, they have been pushed further north, the southern borders of the forest are beyond dangerous." Beorn met her eyes with a sad smile, "Your home is not what you remember it to be my lady." He shrugged apologetically, "I would not venture there except in great need."
Lostoriel leaned forward on her elbows, her hands clasped together as she rubbed her forehead against two fingers. That was not what she wanted to hear. It was ill news indeed that such darkness had crept its way back into their woods with such power and that they had been unable to resist it. "We can take the Elven Road can we not? Surely it is still safe Beorn?"
Gandalf nodded his affirmation, though the uncertainty in his weary eyes gave him away.
"Safe?" Beorn laughed bitterly, "The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They're less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not."
This time the dwarves stared at her, uncertain as to whether they should agree with their host or stand up for their elf. A murmur of assent rose from most of the Company. They had had first-hand experience of Lostoriel's impulsive, unpredictable and borderline reckless actions. As far as many of them were concerned it was nothing short of a miracle that she had survived this far into their journey.
"Firstly I'm wounded that you should think so of me. However less wise may be a stretch." She lanced meaningfully at Beorn.
"Getting through the forest shouldn't be that difficult, after all we do have their princess travelling with us." , receiving murmurs of agreement.
"Surely they would welcome you with open arms should we use their path?" said Bilbo from beside her.
Lostoriel opened her mouth to speak and then pressed her lips together. What had occurred that day tugged mercilessly at her heart, Lostoriel chewed the inside of her cheek. She would have to tell them at some point, especially if they were to travel through the GreenWood. She sucked in a breath, "As much as I appreciate your optimism. It may prove even more difficult for us to pass through as I did not leave the GreenWood on the best of terms. I don't expect that my father will be... glad... to see me after all these years."
The awkward silence that filled the air was suffocating. Thorin, who had been looking at her as she spoke dropped his gaze to his knees. The dwarves too sensed that she did not wish to continue speaking and so they did not press on. Thorin came to the rescue and coughed lightly to catch Beorn's attention.
"What do you mean?" asked Thorin, swinging around to fully face Beorn to cut off any further bantering that may occur between the elf and wizard.
"These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive."
"He is right." Lostoriel nodded, recalling the reinforcements that they had seen skulking about the nearby forest in the dead of night. As she spoke a soft squeaking of an animal pricked her ears, "Like I said earlier, Bolg son of Azog is hunting us. From what Beorn has told me, they will stop at nothing to stop our quest and end the line of Durin. These are no ordinary orcs Thorin."
"Tell me princess, do you trust these dwarves?" Beorn asked , all pretences of familiarity disregarded.
Lostoriel regarded the fifteen expectant faces surrounding her. They, Bilbo included, were stubborn enough to make her curse, pig-headed and burly as sailors and they riled her up more than she thought possible. However they were loyal, kind and had saved her life on more than one occasion. She did not have any second thoughts, "With my life."
Beorn nodded and rose from the bench slowly walking towards Thorin, twitching whilst he spoke, "I don't like dwarves." he gently plucked a white mouse that had been sniffing around the plate of cheeses, " They're greedy and blind, blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own."
He stopped before the dwarf, "But Orcs I hate more. What do you need?"
oOo
Their council with Beorn had long since passed, most of the Company had gone down to the river to bath and everyone was all the more happy for it. Beorn had let Lostoriel use his guest washroom, which was really his son's old bathing chamber that had not been used for some time. Lostoriel had been glad for the privacy and the hot water which had eased the pain from her back and shoulders. It had been nearly three days since Azog had stepped on her back and the bruise had not yet healed and her muscle around her throat where he had picked her up was still tender.
She had lain in the soothing water until it turned cold, with the strong scent of lavender soap rising from the water and filling her senses. There were few things that she had missed about earth, hot water that flowed at her beck and call and soap that smelt like the embodiment of forests and rivers. Beorn had offered to lend her a few of his wife's smaller clothes after seeing that Lostoriel's were ripped and stained in half a dozen places. When Lostoriel had asked him if his wife would not mind Beorn smiled appreciatively and had told her that Eafeld, was visiting family in a nearby village and would not mind in the slightest, the clothes were too small for her anyway.
Lostoriel had frowned at her disproportionate reflection in the vertical mirror that stood against the wall that separated the bedroom and the bathroom. The cotton, black tights were much too long for her and bunched around her ankles and over the top of her boots so it looked like she wore bits of elephant skin around her legs. She threaded her arms through the sleeve of the white, linen shirt and realised with a sigh that it reached halfway down her thighs and the sleeves hung at least half an arm's length off her hands.
Lostoriel concluded that if Beorn was anything to go by then his wife would be around his height and stature, which explained why she currently looked like a child trying on her mother's clothing. The elf shrugged philosophically, there was nothing she could do about it except be grateful, Beorn had shown her hospitality beyond what was needed and at least she could travel with these spare clothes through the forest when the winter months would be coming upon them.
She began to button the top when pain flared on her left side. The white, hot pain travelled right down to the tips of her fingers and Lostoriel leaned against the chest of draws beside her. She breathed heavily and quickly, forcing her heart rate to slow so that it did not feel like it was about to pop out of her chest. She stood there for a long time, breathing slowly through gritted teeth as her skin peeled back to reveal years of battle scars and one day's worth of fighting a dragon.
Lostoriel eventually gained enough strength to push herself away from the draws and study her disfigured reflection. To this day it horrified her, how her skin had attempted to heal itself, how the terrible grafting that those doctors had done had only made the pain worse.
Lostoriel was well-built, her muscles were toned and strong, to one side she was perfectly normal and to the other, to the side where half her eye was white and she could see what lay beneath her skin and with her closely cropped hair. She was a nightmare.
A timid knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, "Lostoriel?"
It was Thorin. Hastily she buttoned up the shirt and threw on the warm, chestnut fleece top over it and unlocked the door. On the other side stood a clean, wet-haired Thorin with two steaming mugs in his hands and the feint sounds of the dwarves causing chaos behind him.
"Sounds like they're having fun out there." She greeted him, uncertain as to what he was doing here. Thorin had all, but avoided her after their council with Beorn
"Count yourself lucky that you were not at the river." He said wryly, "Thought you might want a cup before Bilbo drinks it all." He said with a sheepish smile and handed a mug to her. Lostoriel received it with a nod of thanks and shut the door behind her, leading them both down the hall and then into the kitchen.
She took a sip of the steaming tea and sighed appreciatively, "Have you decided when we're leaving?"
Thorin looked up at her, his features set in seriousness and concern twisting his brows together. "I'm hoping by the end of the week, or sooner. Though it depends on how quickly we can prepare our provisions for the next leg of our journey. Beorn's permitted us to use his workshop to build more bows and arrows for our trek through the woods and to use his ponies to get there."
Lostoriel nodded and sipped at the tea, enjoying the warm sensation it sent flowing through her body. The sooner they left and got through the forest, the better it was for her. Thorin was clearly anxious to get back on the road to Erebor and she would be lying had she said she was not.
"Speaking of going through the woods…" he began tentatively, not wanting to scare her away with what he had in mind. "Are we not going to speak of what transpired that day." Said Thorin softly, his stoic pretence giving way to a kind light in his eyes that she had not seen in ages. "They deserve to know what we may be facing. You deserve to know what you'll be facing."
The elf gulped at met his eyes with steel, she was not ready to confront it. No, it was more that she did not want to acknowledge it. The fact that their friendship had been forbidden and that passing through MirkWood could end brutally for them. What more did he need her to know other than that?
The elf halted in the threshold to the empty kitchen and rolled her eyes. So, this was why he was being so decidedly kind, what Saruman had said to her echoed in her mind. She pushed the thought aside, knowing that she would begin to overthink. "Yes well, the time for speaking of that is not right. There is still much to consider."
Thorin was taken back by her biting tone and softened his voice to reason with her, "Look, I don't want to go into those woods and I know that you don't want to either. But we must and there are things that you need to know Lostoriel before we do."
"Thank you Thorin, but I know enough for now." Said Lostoriel as she rose to her full height and rolled back her shoulders, looking for all the world like Thranduil set in his foul temperament. She left the dwarf standing there with his mouth open to retort and guilt settling into his mind.
The next day passed by in a blur. Beorn had laid out a spread the previous night for a breakfast that filled their bellies to the limit. After so many months of living on hard rations and leathery tasting water, the food that Beorn prepared was a feast that they welcomed with zeal.
They were physically exhausted and their minds and nerves had been stretched almost to the point of fraying. And so the dwarves had lazed about Beorn's garden for most of the day, eyeing out the colourful vegetable patches with silent disdain. They had wistfully hoped that the skin changer a prodigious appetite akin to their own. As Dwalin had disappointedly vocalised to Bilbo with an unimpressed tone, "The bear, for all his grandeur and enormity had the eating habits of elves."
Bilbo and Lostoriel strolled through Beorn's garden, the hazy afternoon sunlight warmed their faces as they passed under the emerald green boughs of the oak trees that dotted the hedged off garden. Huge bees hummed over their heads as they passed through his apiary that buzzed with life that Bilbo attempted to hide from every time a bumble bee flew over his head.
The cheerful nickering of the shaggy-haired grey and white ponies that pranced about happily in their open pen greeted them as they passed by. Fili and Kili's cries carried to them on the wind as the brother's sparred to one side of the garden, they had offered Lostoriel a chance to join them and she had politely turned them down, more interested in exploring Beorn's garden in peace.
The skin-changer had disappeared sometime into the night, Lostoriel had seen him leave with a sacksful of honey cakes and a flagon of what smelt like ale. He had not yet reappeared, nor had Gandalf. The wizard had said he was going for a walk at dawn had not said when they should expect his return.
Lostoriel had wanted to speak with him, what Thorin had told her and what they had learned from Beorn the previous day sat like boulders upon her shoulders. She had seen the stars above her in her dream again that morning, she had heard the voice singing, calling out to her and she had hoped that Gandalf would have had some explanation for it.
The hobbit clasped his hands behind his back and coughed politely to gain Lostoriel's attention. The elf had barely said a word since their council with Beorn, she had merely strolled beside him, her hands flickering over the wildflowers that seemed to reach out to her and her head stuck in the clouds. Bilbo had chatted about his aching bones and his observations of Beorn's garden for a good fifteen minutes before his voice had faded into the background noise of the river as Lostoriel barely spared him a glance.
He coughed again, this time coming to stand in front of her as they passed beneath another oak tree that had rooted itself near the banks of the river. "I can hear the clogs turning in your head." His hands rested on his hips, "What's going on? You've barely said a word all afternoon."
Lostoriel shot him an apologetic smile, leaned against the thick trunk of the tree and sighed a leaden sigh, "I am sorry. Just thinking over what Beorn said earlier, about the GreenWood. It weighs heavily upon my heart that my home is dying and that we may have to pass through there."
That was an understatement and Lostoriel knew it. The thought of stepping foot in that forest sent waves of fear through her body. It had not been so intimidating to think of returning home at the outset of their journey, but now with the hazy outline of the trees on the farthest stretch of horizon, her stomach twisted into knots.
So much could go wrong, they could die, or fall into the Enchanted River, and the spiders could get to them before the orcs could. Or before her kin. Suddenly the chain hanging on her neck became heavy and icy.
Lostoriel folded her arms across her chest, she had ruined everything that day, left everything suspended in threads of hurt and anger. And now it seemed like there was a minuscule chance of her making amends, especially since she was travelling with the one dwarf her father hated with a vengeance.
"Surely it cannot be as he says." Bilbo tore her from her thoughts, "After all these years are you not happy to return to your home?"
Lostoriel couldn't help but smile at his optimism, he did not yet know of what had transpired. She didn't know if she wanted Bilbo to know. Lostoriel rose to her full height to soak in the last rays of the sun, "I should be, but I'm not. Besides a poisoned forest I don't know what else we will encounter. I do not know who we have lost and who lives. Nor how my family will react to my return," she huffed a laugh through her nose, "I'm not even sure how I'm supposed to greet them. What does one say after being presumed dead?"
He shoved aside the yellowing leaves with his hairy toes, "That is a lot to carry Lostoriel. I- I do not know how to help you, though what I do know is that you should stop worrying about it." Something caught his attention and he frowned, feeling a smooth, round object beneath his foot. Bilbo paused and bent to pick it up. A lovely, rust red acorn rested in his palm. He held it out for her to see, "Worrying only means that you'll give yourself twice as much stress. Your family will welcome you with open arms, I'm sure they'd missed you."
"Thank you Bilbo. I hope you're right about them. I did not leave home on the best of ways."
Bilbo looked up, his brows furrowed together as his interest was piqued, "Is that why Thorin seemed so worried earlier?"
The elf paled and searched his face in wonder, "Nothing slips by you does it? I do not blame him if he feels so about it. There is much that you do not yet know Bilbo Baggins, much that I hope you should never need to know."
Judging from her nostalgic, but serious tone Bilbo realised that it was best to not press on with the topic. He knew that if Lostoriel wanted to speak with him about it she would have already, he also knew that elves were just as secretive as dwarves, although that may have been a biased opinion since Gloin had muttered about Lostoriel's apparent tight-lipped stories that they would never hear.
He nodded towards the rest of the garden that was basked in the sunlight and the pair resumed their strolling. They lapsed into a companionable silence that was short lived when Sunflower bounded through the field of lavender and long grass that formed part of Beorn's property and nearly knocked the hobbit over.
The wolf sniffed around his feet first before nudging her massive head into his stomach, "Oh! Hello there girl," said Bilbo as he scratched her behind her ears. He did not have to bend down to pet Sunflower since she stood just above his belly button. Lostoriel thought it to be amusing when she pictured the wolf standing on her hind legs and towering over the hobbit.
Bilbo looked up at her, whilst Sunflower trotted between them, her nose twitching madly as she caught some scent on the air, "Can I ask you something?"
"You already did." She smirked triumphantly.
"Yes well you know what I mean!"
Lostoriel grinned at him and nodded for Bilbo to continue speaking. The river gurgled happily as it snaked around the boulders, she watched mesmerized by the way the water rippled around them, breaking off into rivulets and then joining together in a mess of white foam. She and Bilbo stopped beside it to watch how the sunlight danced on the water.
"What is Dol Guldur? The place Beorn spoke of yesterday?" asked Bilbo, shielding his eyes with one hand and petting Sunflower's head with the other.
Lostoriel sucked in a deep breath and gathered her thoughts, "It is a place I should hope you would never have to set foot in Bilbo."
She stated simply, hoping that he would take her answer for what it was. He looked up at her with an unimpressed stare and Lostoriel realised then that Bilbo was sharper than she thought him to be. Lostoriel sank into the plush grass and stretched her legs in front of her, grunting as Sunflower plopped half her body onto her thighs. "Come sit, it is a long tale."
Bilbo sat cross legged besides her, frowning as the wolf's tale swished back and forth and hit him on his knees with a surprising amount of force.
The elf stroked Sunflower's long, grey fur as she spoke, staring off into the mountains on the horizon. "Amon Lanc is what my people called the Hill of Sorcery many centuries ago when the forest was still young and untainted. We lived in the boughs of the trees, in houses so tall and magnificent that it rivalled the beauty of Lorien. Amon Lanc was the capitol of the realm and the fortress the stronghold of my grandfather, Oropher's power. But the days grew dark, evil crept into the world and our forest began to burn. The outlying villages around Amon Lanc were beginning to be destroyed, razed to the ground by the forces of evil. My father and grandfather had no choice but to lead our people further north to the Mountains of MirkWood, where our fortress palace is now. There was peace, but not a long lived on." The elf paused for breath, the world had silenced itself around them, as if it too recalled the time when a darker power ruled over the land.
"What happened after that?" asked Bilbo, letting the shards of grass he had been picking at fall to the ground.
"War was began its path of destruction. A dark power rose from the West and spread across the lands, Amon Lanc was abandoned and a shadow began to fall over the forest as the enemy fled into the fortress. War broke out across the world and my people had no choice but to fight alongside Men to defeat the enemy in The War of the Last Alliance." Again Lostoriel paused, hesitant to tell Bilbo of the One Ring and its place in history.
No, she decided, it would be better to remain in ignorance for now, especially since they would be passing through the southern reaches of the forest. "The enemy was defeated and peace was restored in the world, but not without a cost. My father returned to the GreenWood brother-less and as the King with only a third of the elves that they had marched to war with. And so the world settled into its newfound peace, the WoodLand Realm began to slowly prosper, but there were many battles still to be fought and countless lives that were lost."
Lostoriel's voice faltered, that was how she had lost her mother. In the wasteland of Angmar her people had fought alongside their king and queen and returned only with one half of their king. "We had won, we had won a peace that died after I reached my majority. The shadow of the enemy crawled back into Dol Guldur and a cloud of darkness began to build over the forest of the south.
Now it has fallen into the enemy's hands, orcs, wargs and other fell creatures of the deep roam its parapets. We have tried to defeat it, but it came at too great a cost. Over the centuries we have been pushed back, our villages were destroyed, our water became polluted and the hill of sorcery remains unchecked. My father closed off our kingdom from the rest of the world, they did not see the war we had been waging since we were born."
She turned to face Bilbo, who was pale as a sheet. Lostoriel noticed how kept patting his pocket and scratching his neck, "There are some places in the world so tainted with evil that the very air you breathe is poison, the enchantment upon the forest leads even the strongest of men astray, and we have lost many to its fell grip. I have-"
The muffled sound of footsteps cut her off and she turned to see Fili and Kili running towards them. Sweat drenched their shirts and their hair was in disarray as they stood panting before the elf and hobbit.
Kili leaned on his knees as he spoke, "Los-Lostoriel!"
The elf raised an eyebrow at his dishevelled state and Sunflower thought that it was the right time to pounce on the brothers.
"Down girl!" cried Fili as her front paws slammed into his shoulders, he gently pushed her away and nodded at Lostoriel. "Thorin is looking for you."
Kili frowned and leaned his forehead on Fili's shoulder, letting the sweat from his hair drip onto his brother's shirt, "He says…He says it's important apparently."
Fili hastily stepped to the side, causing Kili to stumble over his feet as nothing but air rested below his head. Bilbo jumped to his feet and neatly side stepped Lostoriel as Kili came crashing down into the grass where he had just been seated.
"Though we can't remember what it was for." Fili shrugged, "Anyway, he's in the dining room."
Lostoriel raised both her eyebrows in a gesture of defeat. It seemed that their uncle was not relenting on leaving her in peace, she really did not want to talk about it. However she knew that with Thorin it was best to get things out into the open, for all his stoic and indifferent pretences he truly did care. Perhaps she should give him the benefit of the doubt.
The elf rose to her feet, dusted off her pants and rolled her eyes amusedly at Kili who had sprawled himself on the grass. He looked like a giant starfish futilely attempting to stop Sunflower from licking every inch of his face. She smirked him, "Well, good luck with that. I'll be off finding out what important something you both forgot."
She calmly walked into the barn, greeting Balin and Oin who were making their way out into the garden to join their companions in the fading sunlight, a trail of sour smelling pipe smoke floating behind them. Lostoriel couldn't help but scrunch up her nose, no matter how long she travelled with them that would be one smell she would never become accustomed to.
The barn was empty save for the few cows and goats that munched indifferently on the hay. It seemed that Gandalf had returned, his long, pointed grey hat hung on a hook near the door, but the wizard was nowhere to be seen.
She adjusted the thick leather belt that held the woollen coat over her now repaired usual clothing as she silently stepped onto the hay underfoot, hating how straws of it had already made it into her boots. Lostoriel gazed upwards and.noticed Thorin sitting on his own at the table, intensely studying a large map.
She hopped up the stairs and smoothly slid onto the bench opposite to where Thorin sat. Lostoriel raised an eyebrow as he noticed her, "So you sent your nephews to find me?"
"If this is your idea of a polite greeting, I'm afraid it was incredibly poor. I thought they taught you better Princess." He added the last but to irk her, knowing she hated it whenever anyone brought up the topic of acceptable behaviour. His face all serious, but the mischievous gleam gave his grim façade away as he admired her features in the dying sunlight. Thorin reclined against the wall, "Sometimes having nephews to do one's bidding is a blessing."
"Seems it is. And if you're going to princess me I'm going back." said Lostoriel with a, dignified humph. The elf tapped in the map, "Should you not be resting? We have yet a while to go."
Absently she fiddled with her necklace as Thorin rummaged in his coat pocket for something, "I'll be able to rest when those beasts aren't hunting us down."
She tucked the locks that insisted on covering her eyes, behind her ears. Dwalin had done a marvellous job, but she was minutes away from chopping off the lose strands.
"You and me both." said Lostoriel.
They lapsed into silence again, their apologies upon the Carrock had taken him by surprise. He remembered the cold manner in which she had regarded him before they had been swept into Goblin Town and wondered if she chose to or had simply forgotten what had caused that moment of fury or if she was waiting for the opportune moment to bring it up.
Thorin regarded her now, glowing dimly in the fading light. She had offered her sword and he had welcomed her into their ranks as a friend, but he wasn't sure if that had been a wise decision. He knew that he could not go back on his word, it was not in his way of life, no, he had to learn to trust his old friend again.
"I think it suits you," began Thorin as she gazed up at him curiously, he wasn't sure if he wanted to let the words run from his mouth, "Your hair I mean. Makes you look a tad bit Dwarvish."
To his shock a ghost of a smile swept across her face, it reached her sad eyes, crinkling the skin around them in the way he remembered.
Lostoriel raised her eyebrow, the look gesture was slowly beginning to annoy him, "Oh, does it now?"
"Indeed, if you grow a beard and learn to fight with an axe you'd make a fine Dwarrowdame." He lightly jostled her shoulder and slid down to sit beside her. The dwarf threw back his hood and fidgeted with his hair. He stole a glance at her when she didn't respond he wondered if he had perhaps gone a little too far with his banter.
Lostoriel on the other hand laughed and it lightened the weight of guilt that rested on his shoulders. "Thank you, but I don't know about growing a beard. However I'm not objected to learning to wield an axe." She shrugged, pushing back the stray locks of hair that covered her eyes, it was beginning to frustrate her. "It looks rather fun."
They were both stalling. And they knew it. Though why they were was beyond them both at the moment and neither were willing to break the procrastination and discuss what Thorin had asked her there for.
She stared ponderously at Thorin, picturing him as an elf with long, pointed ears and at least seven heads taller than he already was. "You'd make an interesting looking elf."
"You truly think so?" he leaned against the boulder, arching his eyebrow at her remark. Lostoriel blew her hair from her eyes, studied him from top to bottom and frowned.
"On second thought no."
"No?"
She nodded, "You breathe too loudly."
Thorin scoffed, "I do not." And then proceeded to sniff as an icy wind sent shivers up his spine, though he was sure that they were partially caused by the way she beamed at him.
"See what I mean?" The elf pushed her hair back from her face with an annoyed huff, this was why she had always kept it long and away from her face. Lostoriel was glad that they were back to their normal way, when he was younger and she was less weary. However she was brutality aware of the tension that had been building between them since yesterday. It was only a matter of time before either one of them could not take it anymore and exploded over the other.
She had seen the same memory from the cave earlier that morning. She opened her mouth to speak, but froze, the softness of his usually cold eyes caught her off guard. It was a strange expression on him and she hoped she was wrong. Only one other person had looked at her that way. She turned away from him, sweeping a blasted strand of hair away.
The silence hung like a thick blanket of smoke between them, both knowing that they would have to speak, but neither willing to open the conversation. The fire cast an amber glow on Lostoriel's hair, illuminating her lithe form against the darkness, she studied Thorin's stony features. Seeing the uncertainty swim in his eyes as he unfurled the roll of parchment and smoothed it out on the table over the larger map of Mirkwood that Beorn had lent him.
Lostoriel leaned on the edge of the bench, eager to read the smaller map. She carefully scanned the parchment, it mapped out the lands surrounding Erebor, though it was not as detailed as the one beneath it. The Lonely Mountain was crudely etched into one corner of the map with The Running River and Dale to the other top most corner. A minimalist depiction of the trees of GreenWood the Great was sketched into the bottom and above it lay the words, 'the Desolation of Smaug.'
Lostoriel's eyes widened, "What is this?"
Thorin spoke as he pointed to a tiny 'X' marked on one side of the Mountain. "This is how my father and grandfather escaped the mountain that day." He shook his head in disbelief, unsure of how to phrase what he said next. He inhaled and plunged on, "I lost Thror in all the chaos as we tried to escape, rock rained down on us and somehow he disappeared along with my father. We managed to flee Erebor and somehow they met us near the causeway to Dale."
"I thought that there other way out of the mountain." Lostoriel studied the map more closely, her eyes scanning the beautifully depicted red dragon and the angular illustration of The Lonely Mountain that it circled as her other pulled the leaf pendant of her necklace to and fro along its thin chain.
In all her years of travelling to Erebor, she had never heard of nor known of the secret door, then again had the dwarves always been notoriously secretive. It would have been handy to know when she had attacked Smaug.
Finally she met Thorin's eyes and was taken aback by the weariness that had settled around them, his skin was gaunt and grey, as if all the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. "This is how you plan to get in?"
"Aye," he nodded, "This map was made by my father and it speaks of a hidden door on the Eastern side of the fortress. It can be opened with only this key." he handed the angular , grey key to her, watching as the light bounced off it. "The map gives specific instructions on how it opens. According to Lord Elrond they are "Cirth Ithil." said Thorin with the utmost expectation that she would understand.
The old and wise elf frowned, the lines on her forehead deepened and scrunched up her nose, "What?"
Thorin suppressed a sigh, she looked as clueless as Kili the first day he had been shown how to tie his shoe laces.
"Cirth Ithil." It was his turn to frown, finally he relented with a small sigh, "Moon runes."
Lostoriel flushed pink and sniffed, seeming for all the world that she had merely blundered over her thoughts but knew what he spoke of, "Of course, I was just testing you."
However Thorin knew that she had no clue about what he spoke of and allowed himself a small smile. He thought it was typical of her to act this way, she hated being wrong about anything. He saw the question forming on her face and took a deep sip of water before pointing to the scrawny hand to the left of the map that pointed to the higher levels of the mountain.
"On the first night in Imladris shone the same cresent moon as the night these letters were first inscribed." he rose, bringing the parchment closer to the firelight so that their shoulders brushed. The runes would not be visible he knew, but Thorin was drawn to the scent of lavender and mint that accompanied the elf. He gestured to the empty patch of parchment where the glowing silver letters had once been, "It reads : Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of winter will shine upon the key hole."
As he recited the instructions his voice grew softer till it died down to a whisper and their eyes locked. Lostoriel did not realise it as yet, but her voice cAme as , she blew back the strands of hair that fell into her eyes. "Durin's Day! So that's why you've been rushing us through the wilderness."
He nodded solemnly, not drawing away when he felt her breath pass by his chin, "We do not have much time left."
Lostoriel hastily tucked the strands behind her ears and into his eyes and leaned back, coughing awkwardly as she realised how little distance there was between his lips and her face. She turned the ring on her forefinger and sighed inwardly, picturing Elrohir in her mind, the guilt already rising in her throat.
The dwarf didn't meet her eyes as he sat himself on the opposite bench, not entirely sure what had come over him. "How quickly can you get us through MirkWood?"
"I'm not sure Thorin." she shrugged apologetically, " WoodElves are creatures of habit, so hopefully many of the paths that I know will still be well used."
"But?" he sensed that there was more she wanted to say, but didn't know how.
"But, over time they might have undoubtedly changed, especially if the darkness has returned to the forest. My father," her voice faltered, "he would have had many of the lesser known pathways destroyed to confuse any enemies, that combined with the heavy enchantment that Gandalf mentioned earlier, I don't know. Maybe two weeks, maybe longer."
Thorin's face drooped into disappointment , he had been hoping they'd be plunge through in a week , maybe less if the woodelves left them be. He watched as she pushed her cropped hair back in frustration.
"Here," said Thorin as stood behind her, "let me."
He carefully pulled one thick band of hair away from her face, split it in two and twisted it together, instructing her to hold it tightly whilst he did the same with the other lock of hair. It was weird, there was no other way to describe it, to see an elf with such short hair and for him to be styling it. Thorin thought he'd never see the day when any elf would allow him to do this. Then again Lostoriel was not just any elf. Gently he gathered the silky locks and twisted them together at the back of her head, holding them in place with one hand as the other searched his inner coat pocket.
Whilst he worked Lostoriel sat nervously thinking about whether she should ask him about the memory now or wait until tomorrow. Lostoriel wasn't sure if she was ready to know what he had to say, to know if Saruman had been correct in saying that the Dwarves were merely using her. She sighed, there would be no right time to ask him and that if she even if she waited any longer that she'd never be ready.
Lostoriel plucked up what courage she had within her as Thorin slid something onto her hair. The silver bead gleamed in the amber light, Thorin traced the thick, angular patterns beneath his fingers as he clipped the bead around the short rope-braid and let it fall into place. It was a spare that his sister had given him many years ago, one of the last relics of Erebor that bore their family crest.
"Lostoriel?" he asked uncertainly as his fingers skillfully twisted the strands together.
"Yes Thorin?"
"We're going to have to speak about it sometime, we cannot go on ignoring this." Thorin paused his efforts, feeling and seeing her sit up straighter ans stiffer. " The Company deserves to know what would happen if we should encounter your kin. You deserve to know what occured in the days following your death. Especially after-"
He did not finish his sentence. Lostoriel abruptly spun to face him, her mouth twisted somewhere between a scowl and a grimace of left hand twitched on the table, her magic pushing and pulling itself away , the white hot pangs of pain shot up her bones and she blanched as it travelled through her shoulder and into her skull. Out of now where a wave of distrust and anger swept through her mind, she had done well to hide it these past few days, to keep her biting tongue in check, but now it reared its ugly head.
"Especially after what Thorin? What more is there to say? What more do you need me to know?" She was on her feet now, her voice quiet but no less intense. Thorin's face was inches away from hers but he could feel waves of anger radiating off her. "I rode to Erebor after the Woodland Realm signed off all treaties except for our allyship. I hoped your grandfather would see reason, however all he craved to hear was the clinking of gold. Then the dragon attacked and you left me to die! That is all there ever was and ever will be to this tale Thorin!"
Thorin recoiled in horror, his chest heaving as he pressed himself against the wall. He searched her eyes for any sign of comprehension, any sign of the companionship that had existed between them only moments before. Of all that she had said one thing struck him like a bolt of lightening in his heart. "What do you mean left you to die!?"
The elf answer him, did not spare him a second glance. She squared her shoulders and stalked off down the stairs and out of the barn.
dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuun!Hello there! If you made it through this ridiculously long chapter whoo hooo!!!
Just kidding, I apologise for the length of this chapter ( I'm not sure what happened, one moment it was short and the next Lostoriel and Thorin were arguing...
( Wonder what'll happen next week...)
And I'm also really sorry for uploading so late. Life has gotten busy ( even though we're still on lockdown.) I've had to study for a few tests that are coming up... So my brain's been really tired...Thank you so so very much for all the amazing reviews!
Ahhh! I appreciate them all! And an enormous thank you to everyone who has followed and favourited this fic! You're all awesome! I'm so happy you're all enjoying this story!!All your questions will be answered soon, even that of Sunflower.
I didn't want to mention Beorn attending the meeting of Skinchangers yet, since that will come later in the story... Also I'm sorry for not replying to all your reviews individually like I usually do, it's late now and I'm half asleep...
But next week I shall!Time is starting to slowly free up aaaand I wanted to see if anyone had any fic ideas you'd like me to write? If you do let me know down in the review section please...Until next time, stay safe please and keep looking up!