The elleth from under the mountain

Misty mountains cold

Ontario's P.O.V

I screamed in anger, frustration humming through my veins as I galloped through the woodlands.

Hair violently whipping behind me as I ducked through the trees dodging the low hanging branches.

I encouraged Lukaine to move even faster as we came past a guards post, swerving to miss a baffled elf trying to wave me down. I ignored his cries of question as we flew past the gate, leaping over a fallen log that blocked the path.

Moonlight reflecting off the river that wound its way around the outskirts of Rivendell. We dove head first into the Ford, instantly soaked as the waist high water splashed up from my mounts hasty movements.

It was anything but graceful as we emerged from the other side, clothes saturated, hair sticking to my skin, shivers racking my entire body.

We rode hard and long throughout the night, never stopping once, never looking back. We rode all through the next day, the mountain range slowly getting closer as we raced to reach it. Following the tracks left by the dwarves pony's.

No sign of wargs disturbing the pristine landscape.

By the time we reached the foot of the misty mountains I was struggling to stay upright, Lukaine long ago slowing his pace as we both panted heavily.

I nudged him slowly through the Rocky Mountain pass, as we began to climb the ever rising slope.

By the time we reached the basin the paths were beginning to become too narrow for Lukaine to squeeze through, the path beginning to crumble under his huge weight.

Rain began to fall from the ever darkening sky as I reached the point where the company patiently waited for me.

I slid from the saddle, stumbling from exhaustion managing to catch myself before I slammed into the rocks.

"Are you alright?" Bilbo asked rushing to my side. I nodded my head trying to catch my breath. Everything hurt when I breathed, my lungs rattling against my rib cage, thighs screaming in protest when I moved, calves straining as I unsaddled my mount.

I dumped the saddle on the ground not having the strength to lift it. Grabbing a knife I cut off the saddle bag, slinging it over my shoulder to join my bow and quiver.

Lukaine lowered his head as I reached for his bridle. Froth dripping from the corners of his mouth, covering his neck and chest.

I wiped the slobber away, before pulling off the leather, discarding it on the ground. Neither of us would need it anymore.

I scratched him on the noise as he blew warm air into my face. I swallowed back the lump in my throat as I pushed him away from me, "Good bye," I whispered quietly.

Where I could go he could not follow. I would never see him again.

Pulling my hood over my face I trudged ahead of Thórin, ignoring him as he looked at me in concern.

This was all his fault.

....

The plunge into the Bruinen was nothing compared to the blood chilling wind that drove the rain into us as we slowly made our way up the precarious goat trail.