Birth of the Blade

2

I closed the garden gate behind me as I stepped down onto the dirt path. I knew my way around the Shire, or at least I sort of did. I didn't have the most incredible sense of direction, which Gandalf told me would be my downfall one day. He said I'd walk into myself if I wasn't careful. 

I was headed down into the meadows. They were a nice place to be when you didn't want to be seen. Lush green grace with wildflowers and trees at the edges. The Shire always struck me as almost unreal. It was too lovely. Too sweet. As though it lacked the bitterness that was sprinkled over the rest of the world like icing on a cake. 

I lay down in the grass, staring up into the blue sky. I hadn't even realised I'd reached up to touch my horn with my left hand. I did it subconsciously now, ever since they'd started growing. I couldn't remember exactly how long they'd been there. Maybe a few years now? I'd been horrified when I found them growing on top of my head; I was worried I'd had some horrible disease. The elven healer had looked at it and told me it was no disease. He'd consulted some books and returned saying he believed it was something to do with my race, whatever that may be. Nobody could tell me, not even Gandalf. We weren't even sure how old I was. I didn't have any memories before my early teens. They were just gone. Apparently, I'd just turned up in Lothlorien one day and just wandered in. 

They could tell I wasn't one of the race of men, nor was I an elf. I looked a bit like an elf, though, or at least my ears did; they weren't like hobbit ears. They were far too pointed. But I wasn't shaped like an elf. I was smaller than most of the elf women and built differently. They were long and slim and elegant. I wasn't short, but I was thicker, and as I'd gotten older, I'd only gotten more muscular and curved. But I did have magic. It was like a mixture of wizard and elf magic. We'd found it out one day when I was off with a search party. We'd heard that there were some orcs to the West, and we'd gone out to investigate. Well, the orcs were undoubtedly there. I'd never had to kill a living being before. One of them had chased me through the woods and had me cornered. He grabbed me by the hair, lifting me off my feet. I thought he would kill me, but instead, he did something worse. He sniffed me. And then he paused. And then he looked at me. I don't know quite what was in that look. Familiarity? Curiosity? Surprise? Whatever it was, it had terrified me. Something came over me, and I felt my whole body start to vibrate. At first, I thought I'd been shaking in fear. But in the next moment, I'd shoved him, and the both of us had been blasted backwards. He flew into a tree, and I went in the opposite direction, landing hard on the ground. 

The noise of the blast must have attracted the others because they came running. Glorfindel had taken one look at the scene; me, trembling in the dirt with my hands over my head, and the dead orc with the imprint of my hands seared into his skin. He'd walked over to me, picked me up and carried me to the rest of the party.

"We are going back." He said to them. Everything sounded like I was underwater.

One elf began to speak. "But there could be another horde-"

"Now. We are going back now. If you wish to stay, that is your decision." He turned and left with me in his arms. I was still shaking. 

He put me onto a horse and sat behind me. "All will be well." He said softly. "They will not follow you into Rivendell."

"He smelled me." I breathed. "He held me up by my hair, and he smelled me. And he didn't try to hurt me. He just stood there." I shuddered. "It was like he knew me."

We galloped through the forest, the wind pulling the tears from my face. 

"He does not know you. You are one of us." He felt my forehead. "You're cold." He pulled off his cloak as he rode and wrapped it around me.