Once Upon A Dream || The Hobbit ¹

07| 𝓯𝓪𝓻 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓽𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼

imladris, rhudaur

— SCARLETT KNOWS THE COMPANY CANNOT REMAIN HERE MUCH LONGER. The dwarves – the Durins in particular – are growing more restless with what the Moon Runes have uncovered, the deadline that is making its way closer with each passing day. But more than that, Thorin is not wrong to think that the elves may try to stop them now that their mission is clear; Gandalf and Radagast are good and kind friends, but she does not hold such companionship nor fondness for all wizards. It's only a matter of time.

Case in point; since noon she's been browsing the library, looking for the ancient darkness Gandalf seems so concerned about, or any kind of architectural histories or blueprints of Erebor. She has more luck with Erebor. That, and the dragon, though she cannot stare into the illustrations for too long, for they remind her of her dreams. She'd been reading through the night, and dawn is mere minutes away when she finally leaves. As she does, though, she passes the White Terrace, the place she first met the White Council, the first place they ever deliberated over the mystery that was a fifteen year old shapeshifter. She stops, hidden by the doorway when she suddenly hears voices from within. It could just be Gandalf and Elrond, but her gut tells her not to assume so quickly.

"The dragon has long been on your mind." A distinctly female voice suddenly says. Galadriel. And yours, sweet child. Has it not? Scarlett blinks at the sudden identical voice in her mind. Clearly she's been caught.

"That's true, my lady." Gandalf says. "Smaug owes allegiance to no one, but should he side with the Enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect. That is why I wish for Scarlett to try her hand with him."

"The Enemy?" Fuck. That voice there. That's Saruman the White – or rather, Saruman the Uptight With An Enormous Stick Up His Ass, as Scarlett prefers to call him. He hated her from the first moment they met, thought she was trouble. They've been constantly at odds ever since, only Scarlett doesn't owe him her respect or reverence as the others do. She speaks her mind, and he hates that even more. Go. Galadriel's voice speaks again. Help your friends. Do not choose hesitation and regret.

Needing no further encouragement, Scarlett rushes to her room, quickly changing back into her regular attire; fitted black jeans and top, and her black leather jacket. She quickly straps her weapons back into place and snags her magical bag, tying it to her belt as she walks out the door.

She makes it to the dwarves' room in minutes, immediately crouching next to where Thorin sleeps. She gives him a small nudge and he's quickly awake – a light sleeper, as she supposes he must be. When his eyes land on her, his brows furrow and his mouth opens to speak. Her finger shoots up to her lips in a shh gesture, silencing him before he can get a word out. "Wake the others." she whispers. "Quickly. I'll explain later, but right now we need to get the hell out of here, fast." As he gathers his things, waking the others to grab theirs, she moves to Bilbo's side. The hobbit requires a couple extra nudges before he's awake. "Come on." She says softly when he frowns at her. "We have to go. Gather your things, quickly." Not fifteen minutes have passed by the time the dwarves have readied themselves to leave. "Not that way." she calls as quietly as she can when Thorin makes for the door. She beckons him with a wave as she moves towards an elven knight carved into the wall. She sets her shoulder against the edge of the shield he holds, and pushes. The stone makes a low grinding sound as it is pushed aside, revealing a hidden door. Beyond it, a slightly overgrown path leads down to a backroad out of Rivendell.

Thorin peers through. "Clever." He comments, which is likely the closest thing most would hear of a compliment from the dwarven king.

Her lip twitches as she shrugs. "I chose this room for a reason." She nods at the group. "Go. I'll watch your backs." They pick their way carefully down the path while Scarlett takes a silver poker from the fire, sliding it through the door handles. Then she grabs the ends in her hands. "Croí na ghrian, croí na mise." her palms light with small licks of pale blue flame, heating and moulding the metal beneath her fingers until she can bend it around, making it much harder to open the doors. It wouldn't buy them hours, but even a good few minutes of Saruman remaining oblivious to their whereabouts would be an advantage. Once they were out of this valley, he held no authority nor sway over the actions of the dwarves, certainly not over the witch protecting them. By the time the sun's golden light touches the peaks of the palace city, the Company is high enough above the valley to see all of it from where they stand, emerging back out into the open.