The Dragons' Daughter (Thorin Oakenshield/OFC)

An old friend and a new adventure

10 years. That was how long she had been travelling, Clarrei thought to herself as she braided her long hair. 10 long years since she had left Radagast's forest home. And yet, she still felt as though her journey was not quite done. Clarrei had been almost everywhere in Middle Earth, seen almost everything. She had dined with the Elves in Rivendell, had partied with the dwarves of the Iron Hills. The only race she had yet to meet were the Hobbits of the Shire. And of course, there was one place she had yet to see. Erebor. But, she had promised herself she would never go back, never see her father again. She didn't want to anyways. Sighing, she began to clean up her campsite. She had healed many along her path. The Travelling Healer, that was what they were calling her now. Clarrei smiled to herself. Quite fitting, really. A sudden sound of a twig snapping made her look up. An old man was approaching her on a chestnut horse, his head bent, large grey hat hiding his features.
"Hello."
His voice seemed familiar somehow.

For I must remind you here that dragons have long memories, and never forget a name, or a face.

But Clarrei could not see his face.
"Hello." She replied. "What can I do for you?"
She thought she could hear the old man chuckle.
"Perhaps there is something I can do for you." He said, with a cheerful tone. Clarrei was confused.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe I quite understand."
The old man finally raised his head, and Clarrei was greeted by a pair of twinkling blue eyes and a bushy grey beard.
"Gandalf!" She cried in joy, rushing to embrace the old wizard as he dismounted his horse.

They spent the rest of the day catching up. Gandalf told Clarrei of his impending journey to the Shire, and Clarrei told Gandalf of her many adventures. The sun slowly sank, and the stars began to wink in the vast indigo-blackness of the heavy sky. Eventually, Clarrei said:
"Now, Gandalf, I'm sure you didn't stop by just for a chat."
The wizard smiled.
"And you would be right, my dear. Let me explain..."

After Gandalf had proposed his quest, Clarrei just sat and stared at him, her mouth hanging open in shock.
"You want me to go back to Erebor and destroy my father." She said blankly. Gandalf nodded and smiled, as though he was suggesting a walk in the woods.
"Yes. Shouldn't be too hard for a dragon."
"Gandalf, I don't know how to shift."
At that, Gandalf just smiled again.
"I know."
When Clarrei looked up in shock, he explained:
"Radagast told me he wouldn't be able to teach you that when I gave you to him. At least promise me you'll think about it."
Clarrei did think. She thought of what that poor prince must have been going through for 60 years, separated from his home. And all because of her father. Her anger broiled at the memory of her father abandoning her at a riverside. Flames licked around her fingers in response to her anger. Clenching her teeth and breathing deeply, she calmed her shaking fists. She had made up her mind. She would help this Thorin, and she would rid Middle Earth of her father's evil if it was the last thing she did.

It took her a week or so to reach the Shire. Clarrei smiled as she rode down the little stone path that was lit with lanterns along the edge. It was just as beautiful as the rumours said. She ignored the stares from the hobbits. She knew it wasn't her height, she was short, for a dragon, and was about their height. No, it was her looks. Many dragons in human form are mistaken for half-elves, and so earn the admiring gazes of many. She stopped for a minute to step down from her pony, and was promptly bumped into by a young hobbit who had light brown hair and wide blue eyes. Clarrei smiled at him.
"Hello."
"Hullo." He replied shyly.
"Can you tell me where Bag End is?" Clarrei asked, kneeling down to the young one's height. The little hobbit pointed up the road to a well-lit, prettily built smial. Clarrei thanked the young one, before taking Emera's reins and leading the pony up the path. She found many other ponies tied up outside, all with weapons tied to their packs. Taking a calming breath, she tied Emera next to a chestnut pony with a messy black mane. She looked up and silently cursed as she heard discussions happening within.
"Damn." She muttered. She was late. Straightening her jacket and dusting off her trousers, she strode to the round, green door and raised her fist and knocked.