The Last of Her Kind (hobbit fanfic)

The Hidden Valley

Scrambling down the passage, the dwarves nearly fell to the stone ground when they reached the end.

"The Valley of Imladris. In the Common Tongue, it's know by another name."

"Rivendell..." Bilbo breathed in awe.

"Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea."

Thorin rounded on the wizard, his fury mounting. "This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy!" The dwarf was seething in barely contained anger. "And we left Niatha out there to die!"

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself! As for Niatha, that woman is more talented than you give her credit for. Besides, did you not here the horn? She will be well when next you see her, I assure you."

"You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us!"

"Of course they will!" Gandalf said as though it were no problem at all. "But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this matter will need to be handled with tact and respect...and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

The company entered the through a gateway marked out by two intricately carved statues of elven guardsmen. There they gazed upon the wondrous beauty of Imladris.

An ambience of rustling leaves, roaring falls and trickling streams lulled the dwarves into a stupor. Beams of coloured light soared from the many wondrous waterfalls cascading from the top of the valley. Everything seemed so carefully crafted yet natural at the same time. The fine stone pillars and balcony walls were seamless. It looked as if the whole settlement was carved from one giant piece of smooth rock. The sunlight streamed into the valley, bathing everything in a rich, golden hue.

Bilbo's eyes flew around, trying to comprehend how such beauty could really exist. The dwarves, however, seemed uneasy in the home of their 'enemy'. Any elf the glided past was frowned at with expressions of distaste from the dwarves. All the company had one thing in common: they were worried for Niatha. Could she really be such a good fighter to have held the orcs off as long as it was before they heard that horn? From what Thorin had witnessed, she quite possibly was.

A dark-haired elf appeared at the top of the grand staircase before the company, his navy and mauve robes swaying behind him as he descended. He spread his dainty arms in welcome (though not a well received one).

Gandalf was greeted by the young ellon first. "Mithrandir." He said in a cheerful voice of friends.

"Ah, Lindir" Gandalf replied fondly. This sent a wave of distrusting murmurs throughout the dwarves.

"Stay sharp," Thorin whispered to Dwalin.

"Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen." (We heard you had crossed into the Valley)

"I must speak with Lord Elrond." Gandalf's tone had turned urgent, much to the confusion of the company. Lindir's face became equally perplexed as he answered.

"My Lord Elrond is not here."

"Not here? Where is he?" Elvish horns blew and Lindir's lifted his head to the direction, answering Gandalf's question.

All of a sudden, the pounding of hoofs on leaves then the clip clopping as they touched stone rumbled behind them, breaking the trance. Spinning the face the hoard of elven warriors pouring in upon them, the group gathered in a tight, protective circle, weapons raised.

Once encircled by a ring two horses deep, the leader of the guards came to dismount beside Gandalf, who bowed gracefully. The company breathed a stunned, yet glad, sigh of relief for behind the elven lord, sat a tall female figure with ebony hair. From the ground, Lord Elrond offered Niatha a hand which she ceremoniously took. She swung a leg over the horse's neck and popped onto the ground beside them. She seemed to have a few bleeding scratches and a rather nasty black eye but other than that, she seemed joyful and healthy enough.

"Gandalf." The Ellon greeted him with a friendly smile.

"Lord Elrond. I see you have met our lovely Niatha Tigares of the Misty Mountains. Mellonnen! Mo evínedh?" (My friend! Where have you been?")

"Farannem 'lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui." (We've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South. We slew a number near the Hidden Pass.) "Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near."

"Ah, that may have been us." Gandalf admitted.

Thorin took a step forwards to make himself known to the Lord of Rivendell. Elrond's face rose in recognition of the young dwarf prince.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain."

"I do not believe we have met." he replied rudely.

"You have you're grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain." he ignored the rudeness.

"Indeed, he made no mention of you." Thorin spat but again Elrond ignored him and turned to the rest of the group.

"Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin." (Light the fires, bring forth the wine. We must feed our guests).

Unfortunately, the dwarves, unlike Gandalf and Niatha, did not understand Sindarin. They were confused at what The Lord of Rivendell had just said and, because he was an elf, assumed it was not...hospitable.

"What is he saying?" Gloin growled. "Does he offer is insult?!"

"No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food." Niatha interjected.

After much conference amongst themselves, the dwarves came up with a verdict. "Ah, well, in that case, lead on."

"Of course. But first, Niatha. I will ask someone to bring you clothes and a healer for your wounds."

"Thank you," she bowed her head in gratitude.

"Now come! The food will be this way."

As the company followed Elrond to the balcony of his chambers, they each gave Niatha a grateful look. Last came Thorin.

"It is good to see you are well." He said quietly.

"You also. I shall see you at dinner." He moved on to the rest of the group.