Chapter Two: Aulëonna

She dreamed of a memory. The pain and exhaustion were gone; she was a little child again. She was running, her little heart beating fast with wild excitement as she tottered along a wide street. She was in the white city, her bare feet shining with the glittering dust.

She ran on, breathless giggles escaping her mouth. Everything she saw felt achingly familiar. She could feel it in her heart, in her very bones – this city was her home. She ran on as fast as she could – and then, suddenly, she was weightless.

'Caught you!' came a voice from behind her, and she craned her neck to see a young man with dark hair, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 'When did you get so fast, hm?'

'Soon, I will be faster than you!' she heard herself claim in a child's voice.

'Is that so, little sister?' the young man said, tossing her up in the air like she weighed nothing at all. She shrieked with delight; she felt like she was flying.

'Again!'

He laughed and threw her up again, higher than before, but her flight was interrupted this time by another voice, deeper and filled with authority, disapproval, and just a tinge of amusement.

'Be careful with her, now!'

The young man – her brother – caught her and swiftly set her on the ground, where she barely came up to his knee. They both turned to see another man who was almost an exact copy of her brother, but taller and fuller of face. His eyes were older, and there was a circlet resting on his brow. When she saw him, she felt her tiny heart swell with fondness.

She ran to him, her arms outstretched, and he crouched down to scoop her up.

'Hello, my love,' he said, settling her on his knee. 'What mischief have you been wreaking here?'

She didn't reply, instead resting her tiny hands on his cheeks and trying to imitate his gentle frown. The effort made his face split into a wide smile.

'What's this? No smile from my little girl?'

'I can smile!' She crowed, her frown disappearing as she showed her father her teeth. He laughed and stood up, holding her to his chest with one arm.

'I know you can, melda.'

'I can laugh,' she added proudly. 'Ha-ha!'

'Hm,' her father said, nodding thoughtfully. 'That was a beautiful laugh.'

'Can you sing like a bird?' her brother asked, coming over and poking her in the stomach to make her laugh again.

'No,' she said. 'Only amya can do that. And birds.'

'Can you tell me how much you love me?' her father asked her. She grabbed a lock of his dark hair in her fist.

'I love you – so much, tatanya!'

'What a clever girl!' he said, and she laughed and hugged him as best she could, burying her face in his shoulder. He squeezed her back. She felt safe.


She awoke to see leaves passing above her, like someone was pulling them away with a string. Sound came to her next, a rattling of wheels on stone and the murmur of voices behind her. She tried to sit up, and she realised she was lying on her back in a wagon.

'She's woken!' came a women's voice. 'Stop the cart a moment!'

'If she's waking, we can let her off here and she can make her own way,' came the reply, and she recognised gruff voice of the fisherman she'd met earlier. The woman tutted.

'Nonsense.' She came into view, a round, ruddy face framed by greying curls. 'Here we are now, love, take some water.'

She drank clumsily with the woman's help. She coughed and tried to sit up again, but the woman pushed her down.

'Don't fret yourself, love. We're taking you to get help.'

'Where?' she tried to ask, her voice still rough and garbled. 'Who am I?'

The woman held a piece of bread before her face, so she opened her mouth to eat it. Swallowing the food made her cough again.

'Don't let her cast her spells on you,' came the fisherman's voice. The woman rolled her eyes and disappeared from view.

'You are a good for nothing, superstitious, cranky old man,' she remonstrated.

'I catch the fish that put clothes on your back, so how do you like that?' he replied smugly, and she snorted.

'Drive on, you old fool.'

The wagon jolted into movement again. Once again, consciousness slipped away from her.


She was under water, drowning, her lungs fighting her chest for breath. Above the water, storm raged – but underneath, there was peace.

She didn't welcome the death she knew was coming, but she had expected it for many days. There was a doom on her shoulders, a curse that had told her that her death was coming. And here it was.

She drifted, the peace washing over her, the cold of the ocean water fading into a warm embrace. She let her eyes close, and blew the last of the useless air from her lungs into the water. She was ready.

A pair of arms closed around her middle, and she was pulled, gasping, from the water.


The next time she woke, she was more alert.

She managed to sit up, feeling stronger for the meagre food and water she'd consumed. Her hair fell matted around her as she pushed herself to turn around.

She was in the back of a wagon, as she'd suspected, drawn by a donkey. The man and his wife sat up front, arguing, but when they realised that she was watching them, they fell silent. They exchanged a glance, then the woman came back to sit with her.

'You look a good sight better, love,' she said, producing a full cake of bread.

'Thank you,' she replied.

'Do you have a name?' the woman asked. She closed her eyes to think, but her mind was perfectly blank, perfectly quiet. No name came to her except the endearment she remembered her parents saying. Melda.

'I have no name,' she said between chews. Her voice was still hoarse.

'Do you have any recollection of how you came to be so far from your own folk?'

'Who are they?' she whispered, shaking her head. 'My folk?'

'Well, I imagine they're the elves, no?' the woman said, looking more and more worried by the second.

Something clicked in her mind. She was an elf. She was one of the elves. And there were men too, good and bad, and dwarves that lived in the mountains, and orcs that killed, and dragons that spewed rivers of fire…

'I am an elf,' she said, trying to sound certain. The woman patted her on the shoulder.

'That's right, dearie. Well done. Eat some more bread.'

'Where are you taking me?'

The woman glanced at her husband, who was staunchly ignoring them. 'I was all for taking you to Bree,' she said, 'but this oaf refuses to go further inland than the Shire. They have passable doctors there, though I'm not sure they're accustomed to treating elven folk. But you will surely be able to hitch a ride east, as those roads are pretty well travelled, and hobbits are nice enough if you're nice to them…'

The elf focussed on her own thoughts as the woman babbled on. She didn't remember anything about hobbits. Did they have healers that could cure the mind? Her ailment was in her memory, not her body.

There was something else aside from that: a horrible, grinding emptiness in her chest that was becoming more and more prominent as she grew more alert. It ached of loneliness and utter despair. It made her afraid, and her desperation to regain her memories grew.

'…should arrive at Hobbiton tonight, if that suits you, dear?' the woman finished. The elf rubbed at her chest.

'Yes.'

'Good, wonderful. Oh! You've finished your bread. Here, have a fish pie. There's nothing like a fish pie to regain your strength, and I don't mind telling you that my recipe is the best you'll find on either side of the Blue Mountains.'

'Thank you.'

'Oh, it's no trouble. And – I hope you don't mind my asking, but would you mind if I did something about your hair?'

The elf glanced down at herself. Her dark hair fell in knotted tangles and pooled around her. She supposed it would be prudent to fix it. 'If you please,' she agreed, and the woman smiled widely, producing a comb from her sash. The elf ate the pie and listened to the woman talk behind her until the sun began to set.

The road had taken them through soft, green countryside and light-dappled woods, but at dusk they came to some kind of settlement. But instead of houses or huts or buildings, there were… little round doors in the hillsides.

The old man pulled his cart to a stop and turned in his seat to face her.

'This is it,' he grunted. 'Good luck.'

'Only if she can walk, you old codger!' scolded his wife. She turned to face the elf. 'Can you walk, dearie?'

The elf nodded. 'I'll be fine,' she said. 'Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for the food, and my hair.'

'Think nothing of it,' the woman replied, her cheeks round and smiling. 'You know what they say: no ill can come of helping the elven folk.'

'And if you cross paths with a witch, she'll turn you to a toad,' the fisherman muttered.

'Goodbye,' the elf said, jumping from the cart a little unsteadily. Without hesitation, the old man whistled and cracked the reins. The wagon trundled on and disappeared into the twilight, along with the gentle sound of the couple's bickering.

The elf looked around cautiously. She could smell cooking food, and hear the sound of chatter and laughter. There was golden light spilling from some of the windows in the hillsides. She sighed and rubbed absently at the emptiness in her chest. Where to start?

Just then, she heard loud voices coming down the laneway. On instinct, she ducked to the side of the road, standing in the shadows.

'…and we're already out of food, since you eat like a pig, Nori,' came a voice.

'Shut it, Dori,' someone replied. 'If I'm hungry, I'll eat.'

'What if we don't find the house?' a smaller voice piped up. 'We'll be going hungry.'

'Let alone the fact that we'd miss the meeting, Ori,' said Dori. 'And Thorin would chop off our beards.'

'We should walk faster.'

'As long as we're there by the time Thorin told us to be there, we'll be fine,' Nori said. 'And we have a little while to spare.'

'You're the one slowing us down,' Ori retorted. The elf heard the sound of a slap, a yelp, and a laugh. They were drawing nearer to her.

Dori sighed. 'This burglar had better be worth the trouble.'

'If Tharkûn says he is, then he is,' Nori said.

'Tharkûn?' Ori said, confused.

'Gandalf,' Nori said, rolling eyes evident in his voice. 'His Khuzdul name is Tharkûn.'

'No Khuzdul out in the open, idiot!' Dori said, and the elf heard another smack.

'Ow!'

'All the secrets of the dwarves would be out in the open if it were up to you, Nori,' Dori grumbled.

'Oh really? And who, pray tell, is around to hear them?'

'The burglar and his friends, for starters!'

She could see them in the low light as they rounded a bend – three stocky, armoured men, all sporting at least three weapons. Dwarves, she realised. Moments later, they saw her.

'Erm, hello,' said the smallest, friendliest looking one. He was wearing a scarf.

'Hello,' she said. 'Who are you?'

'Oh… just Ori,' he replied. 'Are you… a ghost?'

The elf glanced down at herself. In fairness to Ori, the twilight was growing dim, and she was barefoot and dressed in the tattered rags of a dress that looked several hundreds of years old – not to mention her paleness, and the fact that she was almost swaying where she stood.

'I don't think so,' she said.

The more intimidating dwarf who had stopped short beside Ori folded his arms and glared. 'Then who are you?' he asked suspiciously. From his voice, she figured this one was Dori. 'I've never heard of elves roaming these parts.'

'I don't know who I am,' she said tiredly. Her head felt light, and the muscles in her arms and legs were beginning to tremble with the strain of standing for so long. 'I need some help.'

The third dwarf – Nori – snorted. 'Right. Well, we'll be off then.'

'Just a moment,' Ori told him indignantly before turning back to her. 'What is it you need?'

'I need a healer,' she said gratefully. 'Or at least… someone who can tell me what has happened to me.' Her mouth was dry, and her voice was unsteady. She took a deep breath to try to fill the awful hollowness in her chest. She needed to sit down.

'I suppose we could take a little detour on our way to the burglar,' Nori said slowly, but Dori rounded on him.

'A detour? A detour? We don't even know where we are in the first place! We're already on the brink of being late to this meeting, and you want to take a detour to an apothecary – the location of which is also unknown to us!'

Nori raised an eyebrow at his brother, and Ori sighed. 'He has a point.'

'I have several points,' Dori grumbled. 'I'm pointier than a starfish.'

'What do you suggest, then?' Nori asked. 'Leave the girl here, half naked and looking like she might blow over in a slight breeze?'

'She's not a girl,' Ori whispered. 'She's an elf.'

'Right,' Dori said. 'I'm calling a secret meeting.'

The three dwarves put their heads together and began whispering. The elf frowned. They were only a few feet from her, and she could hear every whispered word.

'What are we supposed to do?' Dori whispered furiously.

'We really need to get to the burglar's house,' Ori said nervously. 'I don't want Thorin to chop off my beard, it's just started to come in on the sides.'

'I was joking before when I said he'd chop your beard off, Ori,' said Dori.

'Oh,' said Ori. 'Then I suppose we might as well help the elf get to a healer?'

'Firstly,' Nori interjected, 'I say we move a little further away. She can very clearly hear everything that we're saying.'

Dori raised his head from the huddle to glare at the elf. She shrugged apologetically, and they shuffled out of earshot. The furious whispering began again while the sky grew darker still above them. The elf saw a round face peer suspiciously out at them from one of the windows in the hills before the curtains were resolutely closed. Finally, the little huddle separated, and the three dwarves returned to her. She raised an eyebrow.

'Well?'

'We've decided to go with you,' Ori said happily.

'We've decided,' Nori said, elbowing him in the side, 'to take you to an apothecary. Then you're someone else's problem.'

'Agreed,' she said.

'Do you consent to being tied up on the journey?' Dori asked her. She frowned.

'Why?'

'Because we don't trust you. You're an elf.'

'Oh. Then… no, thank you.'

Nori patted Dori on the shoulder. 'It was worth a try.'

'Well… one sound out of you,' Dori said threateningly, his hand drifting towards his axe, 'one funny look, one wrong step, and I'll make you shorter by a head.'

'Agreed,' the elf said again, and they began walking down the road. The elf willed strength into her shaking legs. Ori drew in a deep breath and started to sing.

'The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone –'

'Shut up, Ori,' Dori said.

'Sorry,' Ori said contritely. 'I just thought it was a nice evening for a song.'

'It is a nice evening for a song,' Nori pointed out.

'Not with the she-elf here,' Dori said.

'It was a pretty song,' the elf said. 'What was it about?'

'None of your business,' Dori replied.

'It's about Durin,' Nori said, 'and how he founded the greatest dwarvish kingdom of all time, many years ago.'

'Nori!' Dori hissed. 'You and your big mouth!'

'Well, not that we should really be telling you about it,' Ori said, ignoring Dori, 'but we're off to reclaim our own dwarvish kingdom. We're headed to the Lonely Mountain, to fight the dragon.'

'And win!' Dori added fiercely. 'But… again, none of your business.'

'There's a dragon in your kingdom?' the elf asked. She felt she might know something of dragons, but the thread of memory was too thin to grasp, and it soon disappeared.

'Unfortunately,' Nori said glumly.

'How big?' she wondered.

'Bigger than you'd think,' Dori said. 'Huge, probably.'

She frowned. 'Probably?'

'Truth be told, we've never seen a dragon,' Ori explained.

'They're quite rare these days,' Dori added. 'But Thorin saw it.'

'Aye,' Nori said darkly. 'And judging by his face when he tells of it, it's no laughing matter.'

'So, you are marching to this mountain with your army?' she asked.

'Firstly, you'd be surprised what a dragon can do to armies,' Dori said.

'And secondly,' Ori added, 'what we have can only be very loosely termed an army.'

'How so?' she asked.

'There are only thirteen of us,' Nori said. 'There's us three, Thorin, Fíli and Kíli, Glóin and Óin of course, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, and…'

'Balin and Dwalin,' Dori finished for him. 'Not that it's any of your business, of course.'

'But thirteen is an unlucky number, obviously,' Ori said, 'so we're recruiting a burglar here in the Shire.'

'Fourteen people,' the elf said slowly. 'Against a dragon that could beat an army.'

'It's a sneak attack,' Nori said. 'You should understand being sneaky, since you're an elf and all.'

'Right,' she said, frowning. 'Are there a lot of burglars in the Shire?'

There was a short pause before Dori answered. 'The Shire is filled with halflings, mostly, but I suppose there may be a burglar or two. We don't really know,' he confessed, 'seeing as we've never really been here.'

'But Gandalf says he knows someone who's a professional,' Ori said. 'And Thorin seemed to think it was a good idea, so here we are!'

'We're meeting at this burglar's house,' Nori said. 'Provided we can find it, of course. It's supposed to be marked out.'

'So long as we get there in time, we'll be fine,' Dori said.

'So long as Dori can read a map, we'll be fine,' Nori muttered. Dori smacked him in the back of the head, and they started arguing.

The elf tuned them out, her hand drifting up to close around the locket she wore. She didn't have much faith in anything an apothecary in this town might be able to do for her. What she needed was to find elves. She felt confident that if she could find the elves, someone amongst them would know her.

Then she could get her memory back, and fix the awful feeling inside her.

She heard footsteps approaching ahead, and she jerked to a stop, her hand going to the hilt of her sword on instinct. Her three companions stopped too, turning to face her curiously.

'What is it?' Ori asked.

'Someone is coming,' she replied.

'How can you tell?' Nori asked.

'Elves,' Dori answered, pointing at the side of his head. 'They hear things.'

Just then, a tall, bearded man wearing a pointy hat rounded the corner, coming face to face with them.

'Tharkûn!' Ori exclaimed. 'Er – I mean – Gandalf!'

When Gandalf caught sight of the elf, his eyes widened. He squinted through the dark at her, as though he wasn't sure he'd seen her properly.

'Good evening, Ori, Nori, Dori,' he said warmly, not taking his eyes off her. 'And… who is your companion?'

'This is…' Dori trailed off. 'An elf.'

'I can see that,' Gandalf said, and he addressed her. 'Do you have a name, my friend?'

'I might,' the elf replied quietly, trying to detect any glimmer of recognition in Gandalf's eyes. 'But if I do, I've forgotten what it is.'

'I see,' he said slowly. Then he briskly turned back to the dwarves. 'Well, at least you found Bag End in time!'

'What?' said Nori, and Gandalf gestured to the little gate they'd stopped in front of. It opened into a well-kept garden, illuminated by the warm, golden glow that spilled from the windows of the hill. Between the windows was a freshly-painted green door, onto which someone had scratched a runic symbol.

'The mark,' Ori breathed. 'We found the burglar!'

'What are we to do with the elf?' Dori asked, suddenly distressed.

'Bring her in with us,' Gandalf said. 'She looks as though she could use a hearty meal.'

'Thorin won't be happy,' Nori said.

'Thorin can take it up with me,' Gandalf replied pleasantly. He opened the gate. 'Now, after you, my friends.' They made their way up along the little path to the door.

'This is a lovely garden,' Nori said. 'Can you smell that lavender?'

'My nose is blocked,' Dori said. 'Knock on the door, Ori.'

Ori leaned forwards and rapped three times. For a moment, there was silence – then feet pattered behind the door. There was a rattle as it was unlocked, and then all of a sudden, it swung open.

A small, curly-haired man stared up at them, agape. 'There are more of you?' he squeaked.


Sorry for the bizarre cliffhanger, but it made the most sense to break here before getting into the next scene! I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Lots of love to those of you who have dropped a review!

Follow, favourite, or just keep an eye out for the next chapter, in which our protagonist is given an unflattering name, the pantry is located, Gandalf's eyebrows are described, and Bilbo has a Breakdown.

Sigebeorn