When in doubt, jump in head first

8. Just your average near-death experiance

On the first day after leaving Rivendell, Laelynn decided following the dwarves was fairly easy; they were louder than a herd of rampaging hippogriffs (and didn't that bring back memories).

On the second day she decided that, while they did take care to hide evidence of their camp sites, they were no match for her skills (at least some of her lessons were being put to good use. She didn't think she'd ever have to barter with royalty). It was a good thing she wasn't some assassin sent to kill them, or they'd be dead five times over in their first day of travel.

On the third day Laelynn decided that the scenery was rather boring, and that she was thankful her fires let out no smoke. That evening she tried to puzzle out her new sense of direction. Before her stay in Rivendell, she would never have know Thorin (because who else would be leading?) kept aiming the group ahead too far to the South to reach the pass it was obvious he was aiming for. She found no answer that night.

On the fourth day, she saw Gandalf walking a few leagues away. He hadn't noticed her, and was instead keeping his eyes on the dwarves and Bilbo. That utter arse, she repeatedly thought through the day, when it became obvious Gandalf wasn't joining the group yet.

On the fifth day, Laelynn lost sight of Gandalf, but didn't worry too much. After all, she thought with a mouthful of bread, he is an Istari. That day was also the day she dreamed for the first time in Middle Earth, and even then it was only snatches of scenes;

A group of people sitting round a table (the Order of the Phoenix, her brain supplied, recognising some from a photo she had seen), all talking loudly over each other—

Percy screaming at his mother and father, red in the face, a trunk held in one hand. A second later the door to their kitchen slammed shut, his family watching it with wide eyes—

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger standing in front of Dumbledore as he explained something ("He still lives," she heard him say), an expression of shocked horror on each face—

Severus Snape kneeling in front of a man with snakelike features, and eyes red as blood with slitted pupils. "My Lord," he said, extending his left arm, sleeve bared to show a pulsating black mark (a snake protruding from a grinning skull) on his forearm—

Three people, standing around a table, playing a game, which changed with every moment, from chess to cards to dice. Then, as one, all three turned to stare straight at her. "Soon," said one, "Soon"—

Laelynn's eyes flew open, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to process what she'd seen. Her fire was still blazing as high as it had when she'd lit it, the bluebell flames showing no sign of going out, and the warmth emanating from it gave her a chance to gather her wits.

What, she thought, was that supposed to be? Because in her heart, Laelynn knew that each and every thing she'd seen had been true, the same way she knew the fire was hot and anything that could be eaten by the youngest Weasley, would. But why, she wondered, how do I know this, I've never seen anything like that before. But like with her new sense of direction (Thorin was a fucking idiot, the Misty Mountains were that way), the answer eluded her.

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A week later she woke to find a Warg snarling at her from across the clearing. Quick as lightning, she grabbed a dagger from her boot and sprung at it. The Warg, not expecting her action, hesitated a moment, but that was all Laelynn needed to slit it's throat.