The chaos of battle erupted throughout the valley, eagle and orc screams clashing together like the steel of blades. Swords swung down heavy upon enemies. The battle raged on.

The young dwarven women looked misplaced, as if she didn't belong, but her armor and battle axes dictated differently. She spun elegantly, knocking into her enemies with a blunt force that rattled their bones. She cleared her way through the field of battle, knocking into the skulls or orcs and goblins as she went. Her body was spent and she knew not how much longer she could keep up her strength in order to heave the axes. The sounds of battle raged on, and then slowly, silence fell.

The darkness closed in around her, leaving her alone. She turned her head, her mind fuzzy. Time seemed to slow down and her senses were dulled. Was this what it felt like? Was this how it felt to die?

She didn't realize it until then, but she was crying. The tears rolled down her face freely. No, she was not dying, but she felt the loss deep within her, like she'd just watched someone die. The emptiness, it consumed her until she was left with nothing; Much like the darkness surrounding her now.

This was the feeling of loss. She knew from the ache in her heart. They were gone. Everyone she had ever truly cared for. They were gone.

Gone…

Ilona shot up from her bedroll in a cold sweat. The nightmare had not been frightening, but it had been disconcerting. It was also not foreign to her. She had had this recurring nightmare for many moons now, but had yet to derive its meaning. She had been to the sages of Belegost and had visited several gypsy tribes that traveled past the dwarven colonies. None could help her. So she spent her nights in a cold sweat and racing thoughts.

Night had fallen over Middle Earth, leaving a comforting silence over the landscape. Ilona looked to the sky, mapping out the stars and few constellations she had learned. She listened closely as the sounds of the night came alive. The occasional owl hoot broke through the restful evening along with the skittering of creatures beneath the underbrush and the few ominous noises that came from far off in the lowlands.

The young maiden rose and put away her bedroll, strapping it to her travelling pack. She reassessed the area they had made camp in, glancing over at the remains of the small fire they had struck in order to eat much earlier that day. She glanced around at her seven guards and watched as they all continued to sleep soundly, save for one. A red headed dwarf sat near the outskirts of the camp site, keeping watch for anything that may have tried to take the company by surprise. She finished fastening the clasps on her pack and shouldered it before walking over to her firey-haired companion. The red-haired dwarf shifted lightly at his post, but otherwise took no notice of the approaching she-dwarf. As Ilona came to his side, the young she-dwarf began prodding him with her foot.

"Darren, we must go. Night has fallen."

The words seemed to rouse something urgent in the burly dwarf, for he rose and quickly packed up his things. His green eyes shone under the now heavy moonlight. He quickly fastened a grey cloak around his shoulders and stoop, pack in hand. Even at night, his frame was intimidating.

"I don't suppose it would do much good to say how much I disapprove of your decision M'lady," his face was scored with age and battle wear, "These lands are not safe at night."

Ilona put her hand up to silence him. She had heard it all before. Darren took his cue and woke the rest of the travelling party, six more dwarfs who all did as they were instructed and packed up their supplies and loaded up their horses. As Ilona strapped the last of her supplies into one of her saddle bags, she looked back up into the sky, the thoughts of her dream returning as she heard the far off orc screams.

Journeying west of Bree, the small dwarven company took to traveling by night. The company of eight rode on their small-bred horses, often referred to as ponies, and traversed by the light of one lantern, strapped to the side of the pony ridden by the leader of the troupe. All the rider's hoods were drawn about their faces, though every member was on high alert. Night was not the safest time to travel.

"M' lady, I must ask that you see reason," Darren spoke up, though he was careful to not speak above a whisper. His face was riddled with battle scars and age marks. A particularly long scar along the left side of his jaw stood out the most, though it was currently covered by the night, though his red hair was not. "We shall reach The Shire by early morn, even if we should stop for the remainder of the evening," he finished, watching his leader carefully.

Ilona, whom had pulled her turquoise cloak around her face, pulled down the hood to address the company. Her long black hair and tan complexion, stood out among dwarfs, and she was a rarity if there ever was any. She turned her chestnut mare and ceased her movement, causing the entire company to stop and watch her. The way she held herself even demanded respect, though she had a very soft look about her.

"Though I know the dangers of traveling by night, I would very much like to precede my father to The Shire. I've already missed our rendezvous outside of Bree due to his appointment with the Dwarves of the Iron Hills," She again pulled her hood to shroud her face, "So we continue on."

The company was taken aback by her resolved tone, all except for Darren who had initially addressed her. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he had been smiling at her reaction.

"As you wish, Lady Ilona."

The company traveled forth in silence, not daring to again question her authority. The young woman smiled to herself. It was a rarity; there was no denying otherwise, for dwarfs to listen to anyone, especially females. Rare as they were, they were not fragile creatures but it went against every known dwarven convention for them to lead, especially among traveling companies. But Ilona held her own against many of her own people, having to prove her abilities on more than one occasion. Granted, she had been bested a fair amount, but she refused to back down from any challenge, regardless of how futile it seemed. A quality she could probably attribute to her dwarven stubbornness.

For every step forward the company took, it seemed the forest grew ever darker and more terrifying. The ominous cries that once sounded so far away in the lowlands seemed so very close now. The riders tried not to let it show how fearful they were, especially their leader, Ilona, though she had doused the lantern that once lit their path, opting for the safety of complete darkness rather than a beacon to determine their location. The skittering of tiny creatures amongst the underbrush had turned into to quieted footsteps it seemed and twigs cracked underneath each stride from the pressure. The young women slowly reached for the bow on her shoulder and quietly notched an arrow looking into the darkness.

It was then that the beasts burst from the surrounding forest, overtaking the party with ease. With no time to arm themselves, minus the few that had watched their huntress leader notch her bow, the orcs took down half the party in their initial strike, leaving the remaining four to defend themselves sparsely. One of the four was bested by a warg and its rider not long after, leaving the three dwarves on horseback vigilant and with swords drawn. The young dwarven woman began releasing numerous arrows, killing two wargs and their riders while her two male companions fell a couple of scouts. Ilona reached again for her quiver of arrows, only to find it empty.

That was when she heard it. The especially angry language of the orcs, being shouted into the night. The words made her shudder.

"She's the child taken in by Durin! She is the master's prize."

An especially large warg jumped from the tree line and grabbed the troupe leader in its jaws before landing roughly on the ground below. Having the wind forced from her lungs, Ilona lost her grip on her bow and stared wide eyed into the eyes of the creature above her. The warg snarled and bared its hideous teeth, and the woman could smell the decaying flesh embedded in its gnashing jaws. She suppressed the bile rising in her throat and stared her enemy in the eyes while simultaneously reaching for her sword, which had slid from her side to just out of reach.

"The Dwarf scum will come to us willingly, knowing we have you."

The warg lunged forward and young woman prepared her body for the oncoming pain.

So this was how it ended. Bested by a warg and its jaws. She would be ripped to shreds. She'd never see her family again. Never hear her father's voice or the laughs of her closest friends. That deepening feeling of loss from her dream began to form in her stomach.

She expected the pain to be excruciating, but none came. Instead, she heard the loud yelp of the warg as the sound of metal raking across flesh reached her ears. She opened her eyes that she had clenched shut and saw her red headed traveling companion standing before her, bloody sword in a guarded position and an angry warg before him. He turned so she could barely make out his profile in the moonlight. She could see the sheen of what she could only assume to be blood on his face.

"Go m'lady!" He yelled in a straightforward tone, fear and courage etched upon his features, bringing out the aging lines in his face, "We shall fend them off. Go Ilona!"

She wasted no time. The woman stood and grabbed her bow and sword from where it had fallen when she was attacked. She searched out her horse, which happened to be trying to ward off a warg and its rider, albeit quite unsuccessfully. The She-dwarf grabbed the reins of the horse and quickly mounted the saddle before bolting through the forest, leaving the remaining members of her company behind. She dared not turn for fear of watching as her guards and dear friends were slain at the hands of an orc and its blade. She never slowed, riding well into the early morning and she stopped only when the horizon lit up with the fate tinge of dawn. The orc screams and the clash of blades had faded long ago, leaving the surrounding area terrifyingly silent.

It was then that she felt it. The pain; the blinding, searing pain in her abdomen that reached well up to her ribs. It was excruciating, and the she-dwarf wondered how she'd riden so long without taking any notice of it. The young dwarven rider dismounted her pony, much to the disagreement of her wounds, and came to rest at the bank of a stream. After taking the time to splash some of the cooling water on her face to wake her body she sat and collected her thoughts. The events of the evening had taken its toll on the young woman and she was just now feeling the effects of the orc's attack. She could feel the large lacerations under her tunic, probably caused when she'd been dismounted by the warg and its jaws. The wetness she felt running down her side could only be blood. She was surprised she'd not passed out from shock or blood loss.

Ilona quickly removed her outer weapons: her sword, made from precious dwarven metal; and knapsack filled with miscellaneous weapons of choice, such as throwing knives; and her bow, a gift from her father that was covered in ancient dwarven runes, though neither father nor daughter had ever been educated on their meaning. After doing so, she removed some of her outer clothing, leaving her only in her sage green tunic and her breeches. The young maiden carefully pulled her tunic up to above her chest bindings. The blood has seeped deep into the fibers of her clothes, causing it to stick in places, causing her to yelp in pain every time it latched. She removed the tunic and soaked it in the creek, allowing the water to rinse the crimson fluid from the fibers.

Laying it aside, the maiden looked at her wounds more closely. The lacerations were angry and inflamed, which could only mean she was fighting and impending infection. She rummaged through her knapsack and pulled from it a small wooden box, delicately engraved. She pulled from it two medicinal herbs and quickly dressed the wound to prevent further bleeding and infection. After she completed her patch job, she quickly looked around, noticing how close she was to what seemed like the edge of the forest. Her night run had seemingly brought her closer to a village. Hopefully, she was not too late to make this meeting.

Her father would not be happy about this.