Our Song Lives On

An Unexpected Journey.

2941

A whole year had passed since the night Thorin Oakenshield met Gandalf the Grey in Bree, outside of Hobbiton past the river and over the hill. The dwarf prince had collected a company of 12 others, 2 of them his own nephews. Then there was Dwalin, and his brother Balin, the wise. Ori, Nori, Dori; Bifur, Bofur, Oin, Glóin, and Bombur. After a long exile and rumors of the dragon's inactivity, they were ready to take back their home. All they needed, was the king's jewel. And a burglar to steal it from the dragon's keep.

Across Arda was a town of men, mostly made of well, men. Mostly though, because among them, was an elf. Ellith to be precise, but no one could know that. Interspecies relations weren't always the best. Since the year she had joined them, she was made to become more like them. Her height was of no matter, for they were both children of Ilúvatar. There was but the matter of her hair and her ears. The hair her adopted father dyed black, but her ears could not be done much with, except setting her hair around them.

Ellie, he named her, for the simple reason that she was, well, an elf. And the poor girl had no recollection of her name. When she had awoken in Frederick's home, she remembered not the way she had got there, nor did she remember what she had said. Her father, the wiseman of the town, remembered of course. But he chose not to tell her, should her memory of whatever they were drive her mad. So instead, he adopted the unfortunate girl into his family, and that was how they lived for the year.

Father daughter as they were, they had two complete different dispositions. While Fred was calm and well qualified to be named the wiseman of Arendale, Ellie was brash and adventurous, always dying to go out into the world. And for the past year, this was what she prepared for. Everyday when she could, she'd pick a fight with the local guardsmen, easily winning against them. The town lord always complained about it, but Fred always managed to dissuade him.

That was until one day the elves of Greenwood arrived.

While the elf lords made business with the lord of Arendale, Ellie picked a fight with the elf guard. Though the elf guard of Greenwood were known famously for their adept skill in battle, the wiseman's daughter won against him. The Manor guards rushed to inform the lords of what was happening outside, while the townsmen went to fetch Frederick.

"What is the meaning of this?! Is this how you treat your guests?!" The elderly emissary elf spoke as his guard lay exhausted. Nicholas, the lord of Arendale, stammered to find an excuse.

"Pay no mind to her, my lord! She is not of us. She speaks not for us." Nicholas glared at Fred. "I assure you, your partnership is very welcome in Arendale. Do extend my agreement to your king Thranduil."

Frederick cursed in his mind upon hearing the name of the Elvenking as Ellie came sliding to the front, her hair flying over her face.

"You, girl!" Nicholas pointed a pudgy finger at her, "Today you have stepped beyond your boundaries, and do not think it will go spared! You have disgraced us in front of the missionary to Thranduil himself!"

Again his name was spoken, and again Ellie's heart yearned for something which she yet did not know.

"Apologize at once!"

Ellie stammered to the front, fixing her hair, and the lord from Greenwood -Fenrir- could not believe what his eyes let in.

Surely his mind was deceiving him...

...for the queen of Greenwood had long ago died. She who had passed her traits to her son, hair whiter than the whitest snow and eyes as blue as the oceans. This girl before him headed a mane of blackness, black as the darkest night without a moon or a star to be seen. No, this could not be her.