Moon

Chapter 1: An Old Friend

*Edited*

A woman with luscious locks of long, blonde hair practiced her aim with her bow, right in the heart of the woods on the far edge of Middle Earth. The demonic creatures that thrived in the forest had learned long ago not to come near her home, or her in general.

Her ears pricked and she swept around in one fluid movement, an arrow right at the neck of an old man. Her bow fell with a muffled thunk to the grassy bed below.

"Gandalf?" she whispered, her tanned face lighting up.

"Ah, Moon, wonderful to see you again, dear."

Moon smiled, the scars on her face scrunching up.

"I have a proposition for you."

Her smile slipped a little and she heaved a great sigh. "Might as well talk about it over a little game of sparring, eh?"

"You always were a fighter."

She scowled. "Not always," she grumbled, swinging her sword suddenly and swiftly.

He met her blade in the air with a loud crash.

"Your getting more unpredictable, Moon."

"Good," she growled, taking a swipe at his head, faking another blow and swinging around to meet his staff.

"Now, the proposition."

"Oh, yes, do tell," she said, swiping at his feet.

"Erebor," he grunted, blocking a swipe at his head.

"So, Thorin Oakenshield would like to reclaim his mountain," she said, driving her sword at his chest and swinging a dagger over her shoulder at the same time, she stopped an inch from his face, the first blow had been blocked.

"Yes."

"You're a little out of touch, Gandalf."

"I do not spend every day training."

She stuck her sword in the ground and grabbed her fallen bow. She notched an arrow.

"What else is there to do?"

"Go on a quest with a company of thirteen dwarfs to reclaim Erebor," he suggested.

She let out a chuckle."You have yourself a deal, Gandalf."

"Be in the Shire in three days, at the home of Bilbo Baggins. There will be a mark upon the door."

"Baggins?"

"His mother was Belladonna."

"Then we have hope yet," and with that, she let her arrow go, it quivered in the middle of the worn target.

Moon sensed his retreating presence and she leaned against the side of her hut. This was her chance, her one and only chance. To kill Smaug for the evil thing he did to her. She still hadn't forgotten his last words to her.

"You'll be back, child. One day, and you will be ready."

His taunting words haunted her nightmares, danced through all her memories. Isolation was the best option, so isolation she had adopted.

She had trained all of her years for this, since she was eighteen. Moon gripped the handle of the sword in the ground and ripped it out. It was time.

Moon walked inside her home, breathing in the smell of burning wood from her fire, the musty scent of unread books, the crisp whiteness of her pristine sheets.

Exhaling she went to her chest of weapons, admiring the way her armor gleamed in the dull candlelight from the mantle.

Moon pulled on her black cloth, skin-tight trousers that she had made herself. Four multiple sized daggers in each of the two thigh belts, one on the left leg, the other on the right. She pulled on her armor, which shone with a dark blue gleam. It covered her shoulders and strapped in between her legs, the entire thing forged of shatterproof Elven silver. She put three daggers in each of her dark blue boots. She sheathed two swords, crisscrossed on her back and then one on her right hip. One more dagger, sheathed on her left hip. 15 and 3, her favorite numbers. She draped her dark blue cloak over her shoulders, fastening it with a glittering black brooch. She knew the dwarves would be impressed. After slinging her bow and magical quiver (it was enchanted to never run out of arrows) over her cloak she braided her hair, intricately weaving spikes into it, so no one could grab it and use it as an advantage.

As Moon stepped outside her door and shut it softly behind her, she grabbed her rucksack full of extra weapons and clothes. Moon always had it handy for occasions like these. She walked a little ways down the path before turning back to look at her home. Everything looked so peaceful and quiet, she was tempted to run back inside and never leave her bed again, but she reminded herself of what he did to her. Heaving a sigh, she turned and marched off down the path.