A series of one shots (the hobbit) [on hold]

A series of one shots (the hobbit)

Alarin and the Dwarves:

I had always resented women being thought of as unable to fight for we are just as capable as any man. Even in the dwarf culture women are not entirely equal, we are allowed the chance to fight but only in times of dire need when there is no other option. Now before we get too far into this story, a few things you need to know about me; my name is Alarin, I'm a dwarf princess from the Iron Hills and I ran away. I didn't run away from my duties, I was more than ready to be queen, I ran away from the stupidity of the laws of our people.

I wander Middle Earth on my own, going where I please when I choose, with no one to tell me what I can and can't do. To many, I am a saviour, showing up out of the darkness to help them in their greatest hour of need, I chose this life and I do not regret it.

It was late in the night when I first heard them, out of the silence came loud voices and heavy footfalls, followed by the squeals of goblins. I sighed, hurrying my pony up onto the ridge before dismounting and readying my bow. Judging from the noise alone there was approximately ten dwarves, maybe more, and perhaps fifty goblins, not the most I had fought but it certainly wouldn't be a walk in the park.

The dwarves came into view, a group of thirteen heavily armed warriors, followed by the goblin filth. I fixed my hood before drawing an arrow back in my bow and letting it fly, carefully watching as it soared through the air, hitting it's mark right between a goblins eyes. I killed ten more goblins whilst I stood upon the ridge before hanging my bow back over my shoulder and jumping down from the ridge, landing on a goblin and sending it crashing into the dirt.

I readied my sword and began to slay the foul smelling mountain dwellers. The company soon became aware of my presence and turned back to assist me in my fight. Dozens and dozens of goblins lay dead on the ground within minutes, my skill along with the others, making fast work of the job at hand. I glanced around, noticing the dwarves, taking in every detail I possibly could in the shortest time.

My eyes landed on a younger looking dwarf, his hair blonde and his stance protective over another who I could only assume was his brother. I couldn't understand why I had been so struck by him but I quickly snapped out of the trance and turned back towards the ridge, flinging myself in that direction and climbing it with ease. I mounted my pony before motioning haste and riding off back into the night.

I ran into the dwarves again on two occasions over the next few nights, they did not require assistance though so I kept my distance, watching from afar and trying to determine roles within the group. By the end of the first night I had determined the leader of the company and the purpose of the majority of the other dwarves. The second night proved fruitless for information, the beginning of the night being spent observing the blonde dwarf who had captured my attention. The rest of the night was spent chastising myself for being such a fool.

The next time I ran into them, I was heading for Moria, determined to know whether or not the ancient halls were still infested with orcs. They had settled down for the night and most of them were asleep, the only ones still conscious were either on watch or just finding their own spot on the ground for the night. I crept close, hoping to catch a hushed conversation that would give me more information about them. What I got instead was a sinking feeling as my eyes scanned for the blonde headed one. He was not there.

I had no time to react, I could not back away or leave because as I noticed the missing dwarf, a blade was pressed against my neck, the cold metal sending shivers throughout my body. The words he spoke then, were ones of curiosity.

"Who are you? How did you find us? What do you want?" The questions were quiet in an attempt to keep away the attention of the dwarves on watch.

It had been so very long since I had spoken and I was not entirely sure if my voice was still able to make a sound but as the dagger bit deeper into my neck, I had no option but to try. It came out hoarse and croaky, the result of years of no contact with anything other than your own thoughts.