Hello again my beautiful readers! I cannot believe how many people have already watched and/or favorited my story! Thank you all so much! Now here is chapter 1, as usual I own nothing recognizable as Tolkien's works. Elva, Aerin, and Isil are all of my own creation. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Trail of Shadows
Darkness covered the land. The sun had set nearly two hours previously which was a blessing for Elva. It meant there was little chance of her being seen by anyone. That would have risen a uncontrolled panic in Hobbiton. An attention she would rather not attract at the moment. She padded along the road glancing at each door she passed. None of them bore the sign Gandalf had told her would be on the door. Suddenly she heard the rowdy sound of a gathering from the Hobbit hole just ahead. Elva paused for a moment before trotting over. On the bottom of the door was a small, glowing, runic "G" etched into the door. That must have been the sign Gandalf spoke of. Elva padded to the window and looked through it. A merry gathering of Dwarves banded in the Hobbit hole. They ate and drank and partied with each other. Elva didn't understand them. They were about to go on a quest that many may not live to see the end of, yet here they were partying? She flicked her ears and watched them curiously. A rhythm began to emerge from the clanking of forks and knives, and the stomping of their boots. The Hobbit who inhabited the Hobbit hole looked agitated. Perhaps even on the verge of a stroke.
"Could you, could you not do that?" He demanded. "You'll blunt them."
"Did you hear that, lads?" Piped up a Dwarf with a strange looking hat in a mocking tone. "He say's we'll blunt the knives."
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks." Chanted a young Dwarf with only stubble for a beard.
"Smash the bottles, and burn the corks." Continued a blonde Dwarf of similar features to the younger Dwarf.
"Chip the glasses and crack the plates," The rest of them chimed in. "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
The song was lively and merry. It stirred a longing in Elva that she had not felt in ages. The tip of her tail twitched as she listened to the song they sang. It amused her to a degree. It was a feeling that Elva had not known since before her sister died. Elva pinned her ears and curled her lips. She backed away from the window and wriggled under a bush. She curled her tail over her snout and closed her eyes. The sound of boots treading up the path caught her attention as it was quiet around her. She lifted her head and looked. A lone Dwarf marched up the hill to the Hobbit hole. He was rather grim looking, a permanent scowl etched across his features. He walked up to the door and banged on it three times. Elva scented the air and watched warily. The Dwarf looked her way a moment and they seemed to lock eyes. But from the darkness of the bush, Elva knew she could not be seen. The Dwarf appeared to reach for a weapon at his side and the she wolf bared her fangs, preparing for an attack. The door opened and the staredown was broken. Elva glanced to the door and saw a familiar Grey figure. She flicked her ears as the Wizard looked pointedly at her. She didn't question his innate sense that she was there. The newest Dwarf spoke up.
"Gandalf." He said unsurprised. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way... twice. I would have never found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."
The door closed and the rest of the conversation was lost to Elva. She figured that was the young princeling, Thorin Oakenshield. He looked as though he had been through hardships and horrors; just like she had. Nestling farther under the shrubbery, Elva closed her eyes and fell asleep. In her dreams she heard the haunting song of the Dwarves as they sang of their lost home. It danced in her mind and turned her dreams to a forgotten realm of glory and power. The wolf woman woke the next morning before the sun had risen. She wriggled out from her bush and stretched. A quick glance in the window let her know that the Dwarves were still asleep as well. But she knew they wouldn't be for long. A few had begun to stir already. A gust of wind rattled the trees and bushes. A glow surrounded Elva and where the wolf once stood was now a young woman. Her hair was honey coloured, the same as the wolf's had been, and it fell down her back, down to her waist and side swept bangs. Her eyes had gone from a brilliant gold to a stormy grey. Her skin had a soft sun kissed tone to it and a few freckles dusted her nose and cheeks. She wasn't very tall, only coming to five feet one inch. Elva wore a light grey cotton shirt with a tan vest, dark brown leather trousers, and pale green boots. A pale blue smoke ring floated past her nose and she glanced behind her shoulder.
"I was worried you wouldn't come." Gandalf commented cheerfully as he took a puff from his pipe.
"You can take that grin and shove it up your jacksie." Elva growled. "I came because I don't have anything to lose. If I die on this fool's errand it wouldn't really matter either way. Also, I knew you would hound me until I relented, and that wasn't something I felt like dealing with."
"Your optimism is refreshing." Gandalf sniped.
"By Ilúvatar," Elva scoffed. "If I'm the optimistic one, what does that make you?"
Gandalf gave her a withering glare and puffed on his pipe again. Elva glanced out across the rolling hills of The Shire and sighed. Then she turned her gaze back to the old Wizard.
"So when am I allowed to meet these impeccable Dwarves?" She questioned.
"I do not know when." Gandalf answered thoughtfully. "But I do not believe it shall be too long before they are ready."
"Thorin suspects something." Elva told him. "I could have sworn he looked me right in the eye last night. Do not get your robe in a twist, I was too well hidden for him to actually see me. I feel he sensed I was there. Years of living on the run, in the wild with nowhere to call home. Kindred spirits, the pair of us."
"I rather find Dwarves to be a merry band." Gandalf commented. "You'll grow to like one or two of them."
"Oh joyous day." Elva mocked.
"It wouldn't hurt to get to know at least one." The Wizard told her sternly. "You might learn something."
Elva pulled her lips back in a feral snarl at the allusion the Wizard made. She turned and stalked away.
"We leave in a quarter of an hour, Elva." Gandalf called to her.
"Fantastic." She growled.
With that she headed down the road and disappeared into the woods not far away. In a burst of anger Elva broke one of the lower branches of a tree and threw it into a nearby pond. What was she thinking, going along with these Dwarves to slay a Dragon in hopes of returning to her former honour? It was the last, wishful thinking of a desperate child. Her blasted heart had gotten in the way once again. The walls she had so skilfully built around herself continued to tremble and Elva feared they might soon crumble into dust. Would it have been that difficult for her to have said no and remained in her solitude? Elva leaned back against the trunk and slid to the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around her calves, and buried her head in her lap. Not an hour later the sound of a band of horses could be heard tramping through the trees. Elva breathed out heavily and disappeared into the dark underbrush. She waited until they were far enough away before allowing herself to shift back into a wolf. Her paws made almost no noise on the hard packed ground as she trotted along the trail. Elva made sure to keep a good distance between herself and the Dwarves to keep Gandalf happy. She couldn't have cared less what they thought of her. She certainly didn't think much of herself to begin with. Why should she want anything different from them?
The group traveled along for several weeks and managed to cover a fair distance. Nothing of consequence happened for their long trek and Elva was growing bored. On the night fourth night of the third week into their journey, things began to move into place and create a chain of misfortunes. While the Dwarves made their camp by a rocky outcropping and began preparing food, Elva sneaked away to hunt. It wasn't really that she was hungry, for her last meal would have been able to last her another two days, but the wolf woman didn't want to be around the Dwarves if she could help it. After a little less than thirty minutes she managed to bring down a few rabbits and quickly finished them off. Before returning, Elva cleaned her fur in a nearby stream, then trotted back to the camp. She nestled herself under a bush and curled her tail over her muzzle. Just as she was about to be lulled to sleep, sharp cries pulled her back to wakefulness. Elva pinned her ears and scented the air. There were Orcs on the loose. The two youngest Dwarves were poking fun at how frightened Hobbit was over the foul creatures, but Thorin chided them. The oldest looking Dwarf walked over and soothed the pair of them. He told them it wasn't Their fault for Thorin's behavior, nor was it the Dwarf prince's. He had a good reason to hate Orcs.
Elva perked up her ears slightly. Perhaps this would be an interesting story. The old dwarf told a story of loss and desperation. After the Dragon took the Lonely Mountain King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. A great battle was fought to reclaim the city. But they were thwarted by the arrival of great Orcs from Gundabad. Their leader, Azog, was sent to wipe out the line of Durin. Thror was beheaded by the Pale Orc and Thrain went missing. Thorin stood against the great foe. He was alone in his battle with nothing to protect him save a branch from an oak tree. But Thorin and the line of Durin would not be defeated so easily. With a mighty swing he cut off the Pale Orc's left hand. And Azog withdrew into Moria once again. The Dwarves rallied and forced their foes back into the dark pits of the mountain. The Dwarves had gained victory over their enemies. But there was no celebration. What celebration could there be with the cost of lives it had taken to be victorious? From the ashes of the battle rose Thorin atop a hill of bodies and looked across the battlefield.
"We few had survived." Balin finished. "And I thought to myself then, There is one I could follow. There's one I could call King."
As the old Dwarf told the story Elva had crept a little closer. Not enough to be seen, but enough to hear better. She stared at the ground between her paws. Thorin had lost everything, just as she had. His home, his family, and even his life as he had known it to be before. They truly were kindred spirits. No, Elva growled to herself. They would never be so connected. Thorin had only killed those who sought to take his home and his family from him. In that way they could never be the same. But a small part of Elva's shielded heart wondered if he would understand enough of her pain. She snarled at herself. Those damnable walls had begun to tremble again and she refused to let them fall. Getting up from so close to the camp the wolf woman stalked back to her previous bush, curled up, and fell asleep.
The next day broke grey and overcast. Elva snorted in displeasure when she scented the air. It would rain soon which would make for a very unpleasant trek. Standing and stretching, she shook out her fur and looked towards the Dwarves camp. They were all up and just finishing packing away everything. Not long later they had mounted the ponies and set off. Elva padded along after them, still mindful of her distance, and began to wonder when Gandalf planned to show her off. Only a few hours into their trek did the rain begin. It started out as a light drizzle but soon erupted into a torrential downpour. Elva was soaked to the bone in a matter of minutes. Rain wasn't something she was unused to. It often rained in Fangorn Forest. Of course that didn't mean she had to like it any, but she tolerated it. Rain was an essential part of nature's course. It watered the grass and trees; it swelled the river and allowed animals drink and satisfy their thirst. The Dwarves were not taking the rain so well, though. One requested that Gandalf get rid of the rain so that they could continue in comfort. To which the old Wizard replied that if he wanted to change the course of nature he would have to get himself another Wizard.
Of course that piqued the inquisitive Hobbit's curiosity. He asked of the other Wizards and Gandalf told him of the five that there were. Saruman the White was the greatest of their order. Elva flicked her ears, partially to get off some rainwater, but mainly out of anger. Saruman, or Curumo as she had known him, had also been one of Aulë's Maiar. But Elva knew how dark his heart had grown. She was certain Aulë and the other Valar had seen it in him, especially now that Mairon had been speaking with him. Sauron, Elva scoffed. What a befitting name for him. Abhorred, it meant; for that was what he was anymore. Mairon had once been one of the fairest of the Maiar, another servant of Aulë, but he was reduced to his own lowly state. The two of them had done far worse crimes and yet they were not being punished for their fell deeds. Instead, she was for what Mairon did. Gandalf mentioned Alatar and Pallando, the two Blue Wizards, but he could not recall their names. In fact, it had taken Elva a moment of thought as well. She had not heard from them in an age. They had traveled on a journey to the East on an errand, but had never returned. Then Radagst the Brown was mentioned. Radagast had been a Maiar under Yavanna as had Elva's sister, Isil. They had been close, Isil and Radagast, who Elva knew better as Aiwendil. In fact, Elva was certain they had felt affections towards one another. Aerin, their brother, had often attempted to keep Isil and Aiwendil apart. Elva smiled inwardly at the memories of when Isil had outwitted their brother to see her friend.
"Is he a great Wizard?" The Hobbit asked. "Or is he more like you?"
And for the first time in an age, Elva truly laughed. No sound could be heard come from her lips, but she made sure Gandalf could hear it in her mind. The old Wizard replied to the Hobbit and closed his mind off from Elva. She believed it was out of annoyance at her, which gave her more pleasure, but Gandalf simply didn't want her to know how pleased it made him to hear her walls beginning to crack. Whether she knew it or not, it had already begun to happen. Perhaps Aulë had been right. This quest was exactly what she needed to remember who she was. However, the constant driving of the rain soon brought her back to her sullen state of mind. The rains did not let up, even into that night. And so the company slept uncomfortably. But when dawn broke the next day, the sun managed to assert itself and drive away the rains. Elva shook out her fur as she stretched, though it was still damp. But the warmth from the sun would soon enough dry it out. The Dwarves certainly were grateful for the respite from the torrent. They made it to an old, rundown farm buy that evening. The place looked like it had not been inhabited for many years. But something about it made Elva feel uncomfortable. It appeared that Gandalf felt a similar way. The Wizard attempted to get Thorin to move on, in the direction of the Elves; though Elva knew not why they would need to go there, nor did she desire to. But Thorin's Dwarvish stubborn pride refused to relent. Gandalf stormed away in anger to be alone.
"Are you really going to leave me alone with them?" Asked Elva in frustration.
"I've had enough of Dwarves for one day." Gandalf snapped under his breath.
"Fantastic, I'll come with you." Elva commented trotting over to him, out of sight from the Dwarves.
"Stay put." The Wizard growled. "Keep an eye on them. No telling what trouble their idiocy will get them into."
"I've always loved babysitting." She quipped.