Disclaimer: Original canon characters belong to Mr. Tolkien. There are too many for me to list, but if you are a Lord of the Rings fan, you'll be familiar with them as they appear. Wild Child is alternate universe (AU) fiction, meaning it will not follow the original book/movie plot. Personally, I think exploring the what-ifs opens the door to more possibilities and creativity. My contribution to this story is Allie, her family and the wolves. As you read along, you may find that everything and everyone will entwine together in a single story that will hopefully take you on an adventure.
Warning: There are touchy subjects such as child abuse, bullying, and violent fight scenes, but those themes are only small passages in the grand scheme of the story (at least so far, since I haven't finished the story yet). It will mostly be rated T.
Also, I'm starting a massive rewrite of earlier chapters because, let's face it, they can always be much better! I would like to thank and credit Jennyslaw for beta-reading this story. Thanks for enriching the background and the characters, and for improving the overall writing. You're awesome!
Now that all that stuff's been said, let's begin!
WILD CHILD
by burningSunset
Now halt your minds
and listen to their cry
From Northern alters
formed of snow and ice,
Beneath celestial curtains
in their sky,
The wolves give evensong
of sacrifice.
~John Hubbard Bidwell~
Prologue
Frodo Baggins was ten years old when he first met Allie Brandybuck, though for a long time he would not remember that moment to be their first meeting.
It was a hot midsummer evening, and Frodo was lucky to get a piggyback ride from his father, Drogo. At that young age, nothing was more comforting than being carried upon his father's warm and sturdy back. His mother, Primula, walked on beside them with one hand upon her husband's arm and the other carrying a basket of freshly plucked vegetables. They kept a steady pace on their way home up the slope of Buck Hill.
Frodo clenched an apple in his small fist, but was too tired to eat it, having played tag in the fields all day with his friends. In a half-daze, he listened to his parents converse quietly, their voices mingling with the buzzing bees and chirping cicadas perched upon nearby trees. The setting sun projected its rays upon his back, casting him in a cocoon of warmth. Slumber edged ever closer while he counted his father's thumping steps upon the country road.
One. Two. One. Two.
The apple slid from his weak grasp and met the ground with a hollow thump. Frodo cracked his eyes open to see it rolling down the hill, an irregular ball of vibrant red coursing through the green. His mother began chasing after it, but paused when someone intercepted the apple's course further down the sinewy road.
Frodo blinked some sleep out of his eyes and made out a young hobbit lass clad in a yellow shirt and brown trousers. She picked up the apple and threw a cursory look behind her shoulder. After a second of hesitation, she began her ascent toward them.
Drogo met her halfway with Frodo peeking curiously from above his shoulder. "Thank you, lass," his father said as she handed the apple back to him.
Frodo peered down to get a better view of the girl, but only made out a mass of curly blonde hair.
His father reinserted the apple into his limp hand. "Be careful not to drop it again, son."
The lass looked up at him then, one hand raised to her brow to shield her eyes from the rays of the setting sun. Her arm hid most features from view, so Frodo could not tell if he had seen her before, but he smiled anyway and said, "Hello."
The lass attempted to get a good look at his face, but the sun was in her eyes, and she mustn't have seen more than a silhouette. "Hello," she answered.
And then she was gone, running back down the hill toward the sound of galloping hooves and the creaking wheels of a cart.