A/N: So if you read my Author's Note from the last chapter (I sometimes skip them so I can understand.) You may have seen my note on New Directions. Well on my P-atreon in a new tier (Seedling) you can now see the full summary of the story (cause we all know doesn't allow us to write the summaries we should, blasted character limits.) and also get Character Bios for all stories as they are posted.

Now as I hope I have made obvious I write fanfiction for practice in the craft of writing. And if you like my writing style, my original works are much the same style, although varying subjects and genres. I just need to get over my own nerves and publish them. Can I get a supportive hug, please?

Also because my Ao3 readers have caught up with my readers you are now on the regular update schedule so you get parts of insanely long chapters. Cause 25+ pages in my writing program is a bit of an eye strain for me to write and edit each week. So love you all but I love not being sick all week from migraines and pain more.

Well on with the show and here we go! (I'm a poet and I didn't know it. Bad poet, but hey.)

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Much Love

JR

P.s. P-atreon and Ko-fi update: Why aren't there tiers and goals yet on either? Mainly because I'm trying to get used to writing regularly on them. I don't want to promise my patrons something and not be able to deliver. So I'm working on building slowly and getting my routine down, then I will be doing some patron-only content like polls for story design and personalized thank-yous and inspiration videos or packages that contain some of the things that inspire each story and other various things. Maybe even some world-building polls. I dunno. I'm winging it. So hang in there with me, I'm still learning, and sign up to follow me so that when the tiers and goals go live you'd be the first to know.

Pps. I've caught up on posting on my older stories to Ao3. I am now free to post any deleted "scenes" and extras in conjunction with the older stories and the ones I am currently working on. They will only appear after a story is completed. And after Patrons get the first crack at them. Sorry. What do I delete? Mainly anything that needs to be edited out to meet the rating rules on this site. But also little interesting snippets that just slowed down the pacing. I will not be posting them here on this site. Apologies. But it has more "interesting" rules.

Chapter 3 Waiting for the Dwarves Part 1

The month flew by and despite the fact that Caelann and the twins tried to help her find her singing voice, Sherilynn still hadn't sung a single note. She did catch herself humming along with the wordless music of the leaves and grass at times though, and Caelann seemed to take that as a good sign. At least she never expressed any disappointment in her lack of singing.

While Sherilynn trained daily with the twins and Glorfindel, even Lord Elrond and Arwen at times, Caelann had been watching the sky and the moon. It was almost time she said one evening. And so Sherilynn began quietly packing the things that she felt she could not do without. Her armor, a small medical kit, a change of clothes, waterskin, her weapons, lembas, a small bedroll, a small repair kit and her sharpening stone, a small pan to cook in, her flint and steel. Everything else she would wear, including her new gambeson that came down to her knees and was split for riding. She had been ridiculously pleased with the forest green arming jacket.

When Glorfindel seemed tense, for no other apparent reason, she guessed that Thorin's company had been spotted. "Bad day?" She asked, jumping a strike to her legs with one of the long training staves.

"Dwarves spotted on the East Road and you still have not sung." After a moment, he hissed. "Thorin and Mithrandir have been identified. They will be going to the Lonely Mountain."

That was one of the things she liked about the insanely old ellon. He was forthright, to the point of rudeness at times which is why he didn't associate with others outside the guard much because only they seemed to understand his nature and not take offense. Almost all of the others she had met considered it rude to just address the issue at hand, instead favoring to circle round and round it until she felt dizzy from the maneuvering.

Like Erestor. A shiver ran down her spine every time she considered Elrond's advisor. Their meeting had not been an easy one. And had it not been for the advise of Caelann, she might have lost her temper on the slippery male. Which, as her friend pointed out, would only bite her in the long run.

But Glorfindel, due to his age and experience, never felt the need to mince words with anyone. He said what he meant. It may be in the flowery speech that the elves favored at times. But he said what he meant when he meant it, and didn't pull the force of the words when it counted. He spoke slower than most did too, which she also appreciated, not wanting to tangle his words or be tangled in them. When Glorfindel spoke, others listened and didn't dare to interrupt.

It was an underrated skill, she thought, coming back to the conversation at hand when he swung at her head. "No. I haven't."

"Have not even tried it seems."

"Caelann tell you that?" She was the only one who could. The twins had been on patrol recently. And they were scheduled to be gone for at least another month unless there was an emergency.

Smacking her in the stomach with the butt of the staff, Glorfindel simply stared at her by way of answer.

But Sherilynn knew that Caelann hadn't said a word. She hadn't expressed any displeasure at the lack of "singing" from her. Caelann had, in fact, been more understanding than she would have guessed. She didn't push. But she sang constantly. Tiny things normally. Lullabies at night, silly little ditties during the day. When Sherilynn found herself humming or mouthing the words, Caelann didn't ask her to join and didn't comment on it. And honestly, it eased her already fraying nerves about the whole thing.

When Caelann sang rock ballads and more tribal sounding new age songs, it was almost as if Sherilynn could feel her spirit responding to it. And blast Caelann who knew, Sherilynn didn't know how the Scot knew but she knew, and just let it slide. Because she knew it only encouraged the want to sing in her.

Her father had done all he could to discourage song and music and singing of any kind in their house after her mom passed. Like music was what took her away, but Sherilynn knew it was only because it reminded him of her mother who, like Caelann, was constantly singing something. All day, every day. She sang about her loves, even if it was her love of a pastry or her love for her children and husband. She sang about her sorrows, her angers, her fears. Everything. And when she died, her dad just couldn't handle it.

And all those years of silence had taken a toll, until now she barely spoke to the man.

But with Caelann it was almost as if her mother was singing to her from the grave. And she felt that long dead part of her respond, inch by inch, note by note.

Changing the subject abruptly, Glorfindel yanked her out of the memories that swam through her heart. "If the little queen is right, you will be leaving soon."

"When the dwarves do. Yes."

"Have you packed all you need?" The staff swept her legs in her distraction.

Grunting as she landed, Sherilynn nodded. "Probably more than I need but Caelann has been reminding me that once we reach the mountains I'm gonna have to start carrying most of it if I don't want to lose it." At his frown of question, she waved it away. "Singer knowledge. Did Elrond or you get a message through to Greenwood?"

The Lord of the Golden Flower nodded. "The Greenwood guard have been alerted to keep a lookout for you. But it is not the safest route to the Lonely Mountain, I doubt Gandalf will plan on going that way."

"He won't." She agreed, rolling to her knees "But better to be safe than sorry when going against a dragon."

Glorfindel hissed, tossing his staff to a waiting guard before pulling her to her feet by the back of her gambeson. She was so small, he thought. Almost childlike in size by comparison to the ellith that he knew. But there was nothing childlike in the feelings she inspired. Feelings that he felt almost valiant in pushing away. Now was not the time for these thoughts he knew, and so he refused to dwell on them.

"You speak of Smaug as if he well no more than a bee buzzing your head." He growled, barely restraining the desire to shake some sense into her. "You have no idea the destructive power of a creature such as he!"

A tiny smile, filled with memories of a thousand pains that he couldn't even begin to imagine, twisted the corner of her mouth. "I've seen a lot. But you're right, never a dragon. Is it like a Balrog, you think?"

"Nay." He sighed, releasing her arm. "Balrogs are pure evil but they cannot infect anyone with it." Waving her to the edge of the field he continued, matching his pace to hers. "Dragons can. Anything they breathe on becomes infected by it. And if they breath on it long enough whatever it is, usually gold, the greed for it swamps the being who holds it until they become just as greedy as the dragon himself. We call it Dragon Sickness."

The muscle in his jaw twitched as she watched him and waited like he wasn't sure he should say more. Ultimately, he turned to her as they reached the barrels of water set up for those on the field and dipped a ladle in for a drink. "I worry for Thorin, if he does gain his prize. It will blind him to all else. Decency, compassion, kindness, hope, faith. All of these necessary motivations and feelings will become clouded in his mind once he has spent any time in that hoard."

"How do elves deal with that infection?"

He frowned, sipping at the water for a moment before he tipped his head back and poured the remainder over his face and hair. Returning the ladle to the hook that hung on the barrel's edge, he let out a heavy breath. "If it can be burned, we burn it. If it can be washed, we do. But above all, whatever it is that is in that hoard must be exposed to fresh, moving air to expel the sickness from it or Thorin will lose himself to it."

She frowned and nodded. "I'll see it done if I can."

As she turned, ready to head back to the cottage for a lesson in physio- therapy with Elrond, at his request when he heard what her profession was, Glorfindel caught at her arm. "Promise me that you will return from this adventure."

"You sound like you'll miss me, big guy." She teased, her eyes glittering merrily.

Unused to the teasing, his perfectly straight and porcelain smooth nose wrinkled in disgust. "You are less irritating than most of my trainees." He admitted on a growl as he turned away to walk soaring arch of the training field entrance.

Snorting a laugh to herself at the stubbornness of males, no matter their race or species, Sherilynn caught his arm and pulled him to a stop. As he turned to see why she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek quickly. "I promise I'll be as careful as I can." She murmured, returning to the ground. "Will that do?"

"You are not an elleth." He admitted, shoulders slumping as if his tremendous strength had deserted him in the admitting. "If something happens to you, you will not go to the halls of Mandos and I…" Glorfindel looked off in the distance for a moment, his jaw clenching at the very idea that she would go off somewhere that he couldn't aid he because of his responsibilities to Elrond and his house. That she could be hurt and die? She was not an immortal. She, as far as he knew, did not have the hope of being reborn, although Caelann's current state argued that she wouldn't just disappear. It galled him. "I would not see you harmed." He finally got out.

Smiling at his concern, Sherilynn looped her arm through his before pulling him along. "I have no intention of dying." She assured him, grinning wider when he frowned down at her. "Come! We have things to get done before evening meal."