Skin Changer : A Hobbit FanFiction (Discontinued)

SPF 100

Ilma pressed a hand to her burning face, cursing her condition and the growing banality of such burns. She had spent minimal time in the sun, and already she felt her skin peeling. The dappled sunlight of the Greenwood had never burned her too badly, but she would never go back there, would she? She sighed in abject misery as Bilbo came up beside her.

“Does it hurt?” he asked. “The sunburn, I mean.”

Ilma smiled at the little man, his genuine, if halting, concern touching. “No need to worry, friend hobbit, I am quite used to it.”

His brow creased in the way she had come to recognize, he did it so often. “Is it because...because of your....”

“My albinism?” She supplied, and he had the decency to look away. “It’s not something to shy away from, friend hobbit. It is glaringly obvious.”

“Bilbo.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please, call me Bilbo.”

She smiled. “Of course, but only if you return the favor.”

They walked together in comfortable silence behind the dwarves, the cave walls widening and the light growing brighter as they neared what Ilma hoped was an opening. Stepping out onto a cliff, she held her breath in awe as the dwarves around her exchanged whispers. Down in the valley below an elegant city lay nestled against the rock face, its brilliant architecture blending it seamlessly into the surrounding forest. Somehow, Ilma knew instinctively that this place had been built by elves.

“The Valley of Imladris,” Gandalf said, confirming her suspicions. “In the common tongue it’s known by another name.”

“Rivendell,” Bilbo whispered beside her, his face open in its awe.

She nodded despite knowing he would not see it. “Here lies the Last Homely House East of the Sea.”

The dwarf leader climbed back up the steps to them, his face twisted into a heavy scowl.

“This was your plan all along,” he accused. “To seek refuge with our enemy.”

Gandalf looked down at him, his expression one part confused, three parts exasperated. “You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield.” Aha! So that was his name. “The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself!”

Thorin glanced at Ilma before continuing in a more subdued tone. “You think the elves will give our quest their blessing?” Why not? It wasn’t really any of their business, anyhow. “They will try to stop us,” he finished, shaking his head.

“Of course, they will.” Gandalf agreed. “But we have questions that need to be answered.” The dwarf looked down in what would have been called shame if it were worn by anyone else; on him it just looked sad. “If we are to be successful,” Gandalf continued. “This will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me.”

Ilma snorted. “You, sir, are unbelievable.”

The old wizard gave her a withering glance, “And you, Ilma Lossëa? Will you enter the house of Elrond?"

Her lip curled of its own volition. “It would seem I do not have much choice, Gandalf Greyhame. Though where I go from there will not be of anyone else’s choosing. Excuse me,” she added for Bilbo’s benefit, nodding politely to Thorin Oakenshield before marching stubbornly away from the obstinacy she knew was no one’s but her own.