Hiraeth - Thorin Oakenshield

𝐈𝐈 . 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐠 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬

"There's a foul odor over this way!" Mylaela called, Thorin giving her a skeptical nod before following the Elf. Mylaela followed her nose, her face scrunching in disgust the closer they got to the dark cave.

"What's that stench?" Kili gagged, covering his nose with his sleeve. Mylaela held back a gag as they advanced further into the cave.

"It's a troll hoard. Be careful what you touch," Gandalf advised. The Dwarves, however, strayed from his advice and began to greedily collect stolen gold. Mylaela held back a scoff, the Dwarves only proving her expectation of them as greedy beings.

Mylaela crouched next to Thorin, who had discovered a few weapons covered in cobwebs, "These were not made by any troll."

"Nor were they made by any smith among men," Gandalf acknowledged, examining the weapons closer. Mylaela looked up at Gandalf with wide eyes upon realization, "These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age."

"This was my father's blade," Mylaela muttered, pulling out a large sword, "Aranruth, it was believed to have been lost with Ar-Pharazon during the Downfall of Numenor."

Gandalf and the Dwarves looked at the blade in awe, Gandalf laying a hand on her shoulder, "It seems the sword found its way back home."

Thorin and Gandalf picked up two other blades, Gandalf grabbed a smaller one as well. Mylaela made her way to the entrance of the cave, desperate for fresh air. Inhaling the clean air, Mylaela let out a content sigh.

The company made their way towards the entrance as well, Mylaela's head shooting off into the distance as leaves rustling caught her attention.

"Something's coming!" Thorin shouted, the Dwarves quick to draw their weapons. Mylaela unsheathed her father's blade, stepping towards the front of the company. As strong as her dislike towards the mountain dwellers may be, she swore to Gandalf she would do everything in her power to keep the company alive.

A sled led by rabbits flew through the forest, a simple breath of relief leaving the Elf's lips.

"Radagast! Radagast the Brown!" Gandalf called, recognizing his old friend. The Wizard looked disturbed, more than usual. Something had truly spooked him if he was to venture this far from Mirkwood.

"Gandalf!" He greeted, his gaze shifting to the surrounding company, "Mylaela?"

"Radagast," she greeted with a smile, putting her weapon back into its sheath, "It has been a while."

"You're alive," he breathed out in relief, pulling her into an unsuspected hug. Mylaela patted his back in return, pulling back hesitantly, "Was there reason to believe I was not?"

Gandalf seemed to be disappointed in what Radagast had said, a look of realization washing over the Wizard's face, "No, no, I just, well, I had not seen you in centuries."

"Radagast," she warned, "What are you not telling me?"

Mylaela knew the Wizard would crack, he was notoriously horrible at keeping secrets, "Well, Lady Galadriel stopped feeling your power. We expected the worst."

Mylaela nodded, turning to Gandalf, "You knew?"

Gandalf let out a sigh before nodding, "My power still exists, I just chose to not use it."

Sensing a more important matter at hand, Mylaela changed the subject, "What brings you here, Radagast?"

Radagast gestured to talk in private, Gandalf glanced at Mylaela to see if she would join their conversation, "I'll stick with the company, make sure they keep out of trouble."