The Choice [I Gilas] {A Hobbit Fanfiction} (DISCONTINUED)

1. Covad Ú-abgenol [An Unforeseen Visit]

I could feel his pain when the large blade went right through his stomach. I could see the Orc's pale eyes narrowing as his lips formed a twisted, disgusting smile, revealing his few yellow and black teeth. I felt a big hatred towards the Orc, which made my blood boil and my fists and jaw clench.

The man fell to his knees, coughing up blood as he looked at his attacker. His lips formed a word that I didn't understand. His blue eyes focused on the night sky, reflecting the full moon in them.

I couldn't watch anymore. It was almost real. It was real. It had been real.

***

I sprung out of my bed, sweating and panting. Without any second thought I reached for the sword lying under my pillow and aimed it at the door. There was no one, of course. It was just a nightmare.

I sat back on the bed, wiping the sweat of my forehead. I'd just wish that these damn nightmares stopped. So many years had already passed since that night. Why couldn't I just forget about it and move on?

But of course I couldn't. It was all my fault. If I had just stopped him... If I had just insisted more...

The soft morning light shone through the small window in the room, reflecting in the sword in my hands. The sword was well maintained: I could see my own reflection in it, staring into my green and blue eyes. It was a simple weapon, really, but it was very precious to me. It was a gift of someone once close to me. The grip was wrapped with fine leather, making it more comfortable to the touch. The wide guard was light silver, just like the blade, and a beautiful shining ruby acted as the pommel. I had carried it with me for about 500 years now. But of course that was a mere glimpse in the eyes of an Elf.

How many days had it been since I stepped foot in the Prancing Pony? Nine, maybe ten. I probably should move to the next town or city again.

I had been travelling around Middle-Earth for hundreds of years. I had a purpose once, a goal in mind that kept me sane and willing to continue, but after a few decades I started to give up. I would never find the Orc. I would never get my revenge.

My train of thoughts was interrupted when the small door to my room opened and the innkeeper walked in, bending his knees to avoid hitting his head.

"My Lady Ríwen, there's someone here to see you." He looked a little nervous, his eyes wandering around the room and finally settling on the sword resting in my lap. He folded his hands and hid them behind his back, probably hoping I couldn't see them shaking.

I raised an eyebrow. I didn't expect anyone to visit.

"Tell them I'm coming," I told him. He nodded and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him quietly.

I got up and put my sword in its sheath after putting on my belt. I glanced at the bow and quiver resting in the corner and decided to leave them behind. If there was indeed danger, they would only slow me down. There wouldn't be enough space in the inn to draw my bow.

So a few minutes later I made my way downstairs, my sword hidden from view by the green cloak I was wearing. I didn't want to raise any suspicion.

I hid my braided long black hair from view. Usually the guests here didn't take very kindly to a woman of any sort. I didn't want to be the subject of any talk while I tried to be discrete.

Even though it was early in the morning, the inn was flocked with people. No one gave me a second glance, which made me feel a bit more comfortable. My eyes searched the room, looking for the 'visitor'. There was a Man sitting at the bar, drinking beer that was dripping down his full beard. No, not him. A bit further there was a drunken Hobbit dancing on a table, cheered on by a group of Men. Not him either.

But there in the corner sat a man, his grey hood pulled over his head, which made me unable to see his face. There was an object standing next to him that could be a walking stick at first glance, but given the close range to the man's hand and the decorated top, I knew it was a staff. The man must be a curunír.

The curunír's head raised when I slowly walked over to him. I sat down on the empty chair opposite of him. I expected his eyes to flash to his staff, but they didn't.

"I have finally found you, brennilenin Ithilwen," he began, his voice soothing. His mention of my name startled me. I had given the innkeeper a false name on purpose. What if Thranduil knew I was here too?

"How do you know my name, curunír?" I asked him. "Ech tengio!"

He pulled back his hood, revealing an old face with long grey hair and a long beard. I immediately recognised him.

"Mithrandir," I muttered. I had never met him before, but every Elf knew who the Grey Wizard was. What was he doing here?

Apparently I spoke that thought out loud, because Mithrandir spoke again: "I need your help, Ithilwen."

"Nathos nîn?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "Why would you need my help? How do you even know me?"

"Your father was a brave man, Ithilwen... a vellon vaer."

"You knew him?" I asked, astounded. Mithrandir nodded simply.

"I asked for your help because I know no one else better for the job. Just hear me out," he added when I opened my mouth again. I closed it quickly.

"I want you to help a friend of mine. He has lost his home and wants to get it back. I'm sure you understand that feeling."

I nodded, feeling a little uneasy.

"And who is said friend?" I questioned him.

"Well... it's more like friends in plural."

"And who are they?" I asked, my suspicion raising even more when Mithrandir didn't answer immediately.

"Well... they're Dwarves," He said slowly.

"Cedhaid?" I yelled, standing up and attracting everyone's attention. I quickly sat down and waited for everyone to start talking again, before I hissed venomously: "How many?"

"About thirteen," Mithrandir answered calmly. I didn't understand how he could keep his calm. Thirteen cedhaid. That was thirteen too many.

"Why are you asking me this?" I hissed. "You know I don't like cedhaid. No edhel does."

"I know that you are kind and that you want to help people. I'm sure you can put your hatred for Dwarves aside."

"I haven't even agreed to it," I scoffed. Mithrandir's eyes began to twinkle when he smiled.

"Oh, I think you have already made up your mind."

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Translations:

edhel = Elf

curunír = wizard

brennilenin Ithilwen = My Lady Ithilwen 

Ech tengio! = Reveal yourself!

Mithrandir = Elven name for Gandalf

Nathos nîn? = My help?

a vellon vaer  = and a good friend

cadhad, cedhaid = Dwarf, Dwarves

A/N: So welcome to my new fanfiction! I am so excited for it :D

A short chapter to start with, but the rest will be longer, I assure you.

The writing in brown on the top of the cover reads "I Gilas" in the script made by the awesome Tolkien. I Gilas simply means "The Choice."

So many questions already. Who is the man in the beginning (I have left a few hints for those with eagle eyes)? And why is Ithilwen afraid of Thranduil?

If you haven't read the chapter Translations yet, I advise you to do that to understand my use of words. I will try to update every two or three days. Have fun!