The Lady of Rivendell

Chapter 1

(A/N: Happy birthday to me! And as usual, since it's my birthday, I gift you this book. Thank you for reading it and I hope you like it. But just please keep in mind that I haven't read the books or seen the Hobbit movies - I've only seen the Lord of the Rings. But still, I hope you enjoy. XxD)

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When you are second born to the leader of a people, they are called the spare heir, for one is all you need to secure your position on the throne.

But for the Lord Elrond, ruler of Rivendell and the leader of the Woodland Realm and the Elvish people, his secondborn was certainly not a spare. In fact, the Lord cherished both his daughters, his Arwen and his Allora, his morning star and his evening star. His daughters were equal and opposite in every way, the twin pillars for which Rivendell was to stand on one day. Where they were both headstrong, Arwen was subtle, graceful and elegant whilst Allora was fiery, passionate and steadfast. Both girls took after their father, both girls possessed his stubbornness but both girls were incredibly caring about their people. Where Arwen planned battle strategy, Allora carried it out.

And this is her story. This is her story of how one of the fabled Ladies of the Woodland Realm became involved in the battle to ride the land of Middle Earth of the impending darkness as the Ring of Power surfaces again, but this time in the hands of a Hobbit.

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The young Hobbit, Frodo, knew one thing with absolute certainty. He was way in over his head.

He was supposed to meet Gandalf at the Prancing Pony in the town of Bree, but Gandalf never showed. Who did show up, however, were the hooded figures that were after him, the Nazgul. At least that was what his mysterious saviour, a Ranger named Strider, called them.

It was that Ranger that kept them from being discovered. And it was that Ranger that fought for them now as he tried to protect them from the Nazgul that had caught up with him. And he fought with nothing but a sword and a flaming torch.

At least until Frodo spied a new hooded figure that stood atop some of the stone ruins where he and his three friends were seeking shelter.

But this figure wore a hood of white that shone like silver in the moonlight as they notched two flaming arrows and let them fly.

The creatures cried out as the arrows struck true, but they simply pulled them loose as more arrows flew and then the figure leapt down from where they stood. The white hood stayed on as the figure dropped into a roll, their bow slung around their body as they drew two gleaming swords and went to work keeping the Nazgul busy as the Ranger waved his torch, trying to force them back. But even with added help, it was still two of them against nine creatures with intense strength and that couldn't be wounded or killed.

The Ranger actually managed to set a couple of them alight as they screamed, the strange, hooded figure kicking some of their foes into the ones that burned and listening to them scream before they were given a helpful push off the ruins they stood on. Strider then threw his torch straight into the face of one of the Nazguls as it wailed and caught alight, and the hooded figure went to kick them off the ruins when they were yanked back by another one.

And as the hooded figure took care of that, the Ranger ran back over to the Hobbits who were crowding around a wounded Frodo.

"Help him, Strider," Sam begged as Strider picked up the knife that had been used to stab Frodo.

"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," he announced before the blade itself turned to dust and he was forced to drop the hilt as Frodo screamed in agony. "This is beyond my skill to heal. I cannot help him. But she can," he said as they all turned to where the hooded figure had abandoned their swords and redrawn their bow, two arrows sticking out of the chest of their foe before the figure did a roundhouse kick and forced them off the ruins.

"Well, that was fun," said a feminine voice and they turned to the group of males that were staring at them.

"Who are you?" asked one of the Hobbits, Pippin.

And the figure reached a hand up to pull their hood back, waves of brunette hair tumbling down and a crown of woven gold on her brow and startling blue eyes. But the feature that attracted them the most was the way her ears came to a point instead of curving over.

"You're an Elf," Merry said.

"She's not just any Elf. How have you been, Lady Allora?" Strider asked and she smirked.

"Strider," she returned. "You've lost your touch."

"The boy has been injured by a Morgul blade. He needs Elvish medicine. Can you help him?"

Allora moved over to Frodo to gaze at his wound. "The blade cut deep," she revealed. "I do not have the supplies to heal him. We must move quickly. I know who can help. Bring him, Strider."

And the Ranger wasted no time in slinging Frodo over his shoulder as they followed the Elvish Lady.

"But Rivendell is six days from here! He'll never make it!" Sam exclaimed.

"We're not trying to get to Rivendell," Allora called back, the Hobbits holding the reigns for both Strider's and Allora's horse as they dashed through the woods, the Nazgul shrieking in the distance.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried and Allora ran faster as Strider followed.

They had to move quickly.