Eventually... the voting for the Hobbit Fanfiction Contest.
I apologize for the delay and thank you all for your patience with me.
Unfortunately, we only landed on two entries for the contest, but they are two great entries, so enjoy the reading and cast your vote before the end of the week!
Turwaithiel Swann
A Stranger in the Forest
Bilbo, a young hobbit on a perilous journey with 12 Dwarves and a wizard named Gandalf, looked down from the very tall tree that he climbed in the Mirkwood forest. Bilbo was shivering in fear, for below him, where 4 oversized spiders that where attacking him, and help was far away. Bilbo had been separated from his group and then he took a wrong turn, and ran into the spiders. Bilbo, in attempt to run away from the spiders, climbed the nearest tree in sight, which was the one he was in now. And the spiders where trying to decided whether he was worth the climb or not.
He would soon find out that he was.
Bilbo looked around franticly. He knew that he could not ward off 4 humongous spiders with only his small sword, which was the size of a dagger to one of the Big Folk. Then, Bilbo thought about the Ring that he had fooled the creature Gollum to give to him. He slipped it out of his pocket and rolled it on his fingers over and over again. This ring could make him invisible, and then the spiders wouldn’t be able to find him. But, whenever he used the ring, (which he only had a few times before the spiders found him), he felt like another part of his life was drained away…like, like he was being stretched, and stretched thin. He shuddered at thinking of the feeling. He hated that feeling. Bilbo slipped the ring back into his pocket. Unless the spiders where about to get him, or getting ready to, he would not use it. He wanted to avoid that feeling of…well; Bilbo didn’t know what to call the feeling, really. Then, he felt the tree shake, and he quickly grabbed onto the branches nearby to steady himself.
The sudden movement awoke Bilbo from his thoughts and he looked down. One of the spiders had jumped up half the length of the tree from the ground and now was climbing upward slowly towards Bilbo.
Bilbo looked around nervously, his eyes darting around like he was following a fly on the wall. What should he do? Use the ring or try and fight it off? He had a better chance of putting on the ring than fighting off the beast, but what if even though the spider couldn’t see him, he could sense his presence? Doesn’t all animals have a sixth sense like that? And still, even if he did put on the ring, where would he go? He would fall right into the spider’s clutches if he climbed down and if he jumped he would be jumping to his death. Bilbo looked at the spider again worriedly. It had already made it up ¾ of the tree. Bilbo was now looking around worriedly, knowing that either way he was as good as dead.
But then, a miracle happened.
WHIZZZZZZZZZ!
Bilbo’s sharp ears heard a strange sound, one not normally heard in the forest, at least, not to his knowledge. What was that sound? It was like a…whizzing sound, of some sort. But then, Bilbo saw a grey arrow with light green feathers hit squarely in the middle of the spider crawling up the tree’s head. The spider let out a terrible cry and fell backwards onto its three comrades. Bilbo looked a gaped around him as the spider’s slipped out from under their leader’s now non-moving body, and moved around frantically, as if there leader was there head and now they didn’t know what to do. But then, they saw Bilbo once again, and climbing over the leader’s dead body, starting to make there way towards Bilbo. But then, leaping out of the shadows in the air, Bilbo saw a slim figure fall onto the ground, about 10 feet behind the spiders.
The figure was cloaked from top to bottom in a dark blue hooded cape, so Bilbo couldn’t make out much of the mysterious figure that had just emerged and obviously just shot the arrow that killed the first spider, for a bow and a quiver of arrows was strapped around it’s back. Was it an Elf? Bilbo thought curiously, but then saw the figure draw out a curved blade, about two times bigger than the one he carried himself and the figure swung the sword around it’s body, (Bilbo decided that for now he would call it an “it”, for he knew not it’s gender), and then charged at the three spiders.
Bilbo gasped. The figure was all alone, and now, with only a sword, charging three spiders that where 3 of 4 times bigger than itself! What type of person could be so brave? Thought Bilbo. Or so foolish? He watched in anticipation as the figure swung it’s sword and sliced the nearest spider’s front leg and chest and then, all in one swift motion, jumped on top it’s dying body to jump in mid-air and thrust her sword into the top of the next spider’s neck, also killing it. Bilbo was amazed. He had never seen such skill in his life! But then, he saw the last spider come and get ready to leap on top of his rescuers body. Bilbo, without realizing it, pulled out his sword and then, with all his might, threw it down towards the last spider, just as it lunged itself at the figure.
The figure twisted it’s body so that the spider didn’t land on it, but ended up getting cut across it’s left side with one of the spiders legs, just as Bilbo’s sword landed in the back of the spider. The spider screamed a blood-curdling scream and then, falling atop his three fallen kin, fell and breathed it’s last. Bilbo grinned as he saw that he, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, had killed a spider! Bilbo was beaming with pride as he looked at the figure holding it’s sword dripping with black blood in it’s left hand, and clutching it’s side with it’s right hand, which was now turning a bright red color from it’s own blood. Bilbo’s grin vanished as he watched the figure slowly walk off from atop the dead spiders bodies and kneel on the ground. Bilbo knew he had to try and help it, or at least find out why it had helped him.
Bilbo began his slow decent down the trunk of the tree. After a good 5 minutes or so, Bilbo came down and finally made it down to the good earth soil. He sighed heavily in relief and he was now close enough to hear his rescuers deep gasps in it’s breathing pattern and Bilbo walked over to the spiders carefully and pulled out his sword, just in case that his rescuer only saved him from the spiders so it could kill him itself. Bilbo walked up slowly, sword in hand, and said,
“Hullo, stranger. Are you…are you okay? Who are you? And where did you come from? And where did you learn to fight like that? Do you mean me harm? Why did you help me?” Bilbo asked, rattling off questions quickly and to his surprise, the figure gave him a small chuckle…a definite chuckle from a female’s voice. The figure gave him a side-ways glance after she finished chuckling, and she was only a little bit taller than him when she was kneeling. She turned to face him, grunting in pain, but stayed on her knees as she stuck her sword deep into the earth and used her now free left hand to slip back her hood, revealing a kind female face with dark blue-silver eyes and black hair, braided in a traditional style of her peoples, which Bilbo could tell was an Elf. She smiled at him, her skin so fair and radiant.
“You ask many questions, young hobbit.” She said, her voice gentle and sweet. “Though, I am told, hobbits tend to do that.” She smiled again and winked. But before Bilbo could speak, she spoke again, “My name is Turwaithiel Half-Elven, and I was born in Rivendell, but at this moment dwell in the forest that we both stand in now. My kin are the ones who taught me how to fight, and that style of fighting is the nature of the Elves, in case you could not tell my race from my appearance. If I meant you harm, I would have killed you already, or let the spiders finish you off. I helped you because you needed it and you carry something important, though we do not need to speak of that matter here. I am okay, for it was a clean cut, and I have had plenty worse, but I need to bandage it. My camp is not but two miles away from here. Would you mind accompanying me back to the camp, where we can sit by a warm fire and have some good food and talk?”
Bilbo nodded eagerly. He knew he needed to find Gandalf and the rest of the dwarves quickly, so they could continue there journey, but he also did not want to be rude to the Elf – Turwaithiel, he believed she said her name was, and the knowledge that he could have someone to protect him, even if it was someone who was injured, was a comforting one. Turwaithiel grinned.
“Very well.” Turwaithiel said and using her sword to help her up, stood up to her full height, which made Bilbo feel very small indeed. Grunting once again and still holding her side, Turwaithiel started limping in the direction of her camp. She didn’t look back to see if Bilbo had followed her or not, but just kept walking. Bilbo, after one more glance at the dead spiders that had almost caused his death, (which had now began to give a foul odor in the air), ran to catch up to the Elf.
~~~~
They got to the camp slowly, but when they arrived both Elf and Hobbit where quite joyful. Turwaithiel got a fire going and then, telling Bilbo to get comfortable by the fire, went over to a horse that was standing nearby and got some things to help heal and bandage her wound from a bag near by. She smiled at the horse and stroked it’s mane, whispering softly to it,
“Mae Govannan, Mellon Nin.” Bilbo smiled. Real elvish! He loved hearing it, for he thought it was absolutely beautiful. Turwaithiel had taken off her cloak and hung it on a tree, revealing her wearing elvish battle garments, in hues of blue and silver. Her tunic was cut clean through on the side, though, and it had a dark stain, which Bilbo knew was caused by blood. She placed a small plant that had a leaves with a jagged pattern and small white flowers on her wound, wincing a bit, before washing it up with some water from the her flask and wrapping it up tightly. When she finished, she smiled.
“There we go.” She said, smiling. She looked down at Bilbo and said, “I have heard hobbits had many different qualities, but none of them was silence.” She raised an eyebrow, causing Bilbo to blush a deep scarlet. But then she smiled sweetly and said, “No matter, I think some food and drink will do you good.” She sat on a log across from Bilbo and handed him a breaded material wrapped in large leaves and an extra flask. Bilbo accepted it humbly and smiled, thanking her softly.
“It’s lembas.” She said. “Elvish way bread. Very tasty and a small amount can be very filling. Eat and then we will talk.” She said, taking a small bit of her own piece of lembas and nibbling on it. After a moment of silence, she said,
“You are young Bilbo Baggins, am I correct?” She asked him. Bilbo looked up, startled that she knew his name, for he now remembered that he had never given it too her and he yelled at himself in his head for being so rude. But, on the outside he kept calm and simply nodded, stilling eating his way bread.
“And you have something that previously belonged to Gollum, the creature of the deep mountains, do you not?” She continued to question. Bilbo did not answer verbally, but instead his hand instinctively went to his pocket, where the ring was lying, hidden. Turwaithiel’s eyebrow raised and then she simply nodded.
“You see, young Bilbo, I have been following you, Gandalf, and your group a week after you left. I chose to follow you when you got separated from Gandalf and into Gollum’s lair. What you have is very important, and I saw you use it a couple times, and believe me you; it was hard to find you when you did, but my brother is an excellent tracker, and he taught me those skills, and soon enough, after you used the ring, I found you again, but I never found the right time to stop you, and warn you about the ring.”
“Warn me?” Bilbo asked, and for the first time in a while he used his voice. Why would she need to warn him? If it was about the effects the ring had on him, he already knew those and they had become helpful to him a few times before now. What if she wanted to take the ring from him? Bilbo felt his hand clutch his pant’s pocket tighter. Well, she can’t have it! It’s mine! Bilbo thought sourly, as Turwaithiel replied.
“Bilbo, I can’t say much, for I do now know what Gandalf would do to me if I did and I am not certain if it is indeed the ring I believe it to be, but I can say that if it is the ring I believe it to be, then as soon as others find out it’s whereabouts, they will go looking for it and will want to take it from you. That ring is great evil, and it would be best if you got rid of it, immediately!” Turwaithiel said, her voice all serious, yet still gentle.
Bilbo’s feelings, which unknowingly to him had already been affected by the few uses he had done by the ring, where taking over the feelings he would have normally used. He snorted. “And who would I give it to? You?”
Turwaithiel looked offended by his words, or maybe, a little more taken back, than anything. But, she quickly recovered and said, “Bilbo, listen to me, it’s already begun! The ring is changing you and you don’t want it to change you! If you continue to keep it, it will put you and those you love in grave danger in the future. You must rid yourself of this ring!”
“And if it is not the ring you thought it was?” Bilbo retorted.
“Better safe than sorry, Bilbo!” Turwaithiel said, her eyes pleading. But Bilbo’s mind had long before been made up. He felt the ring calling to him, and he felt bitter and cold. He knew the Elf had been this planning all along! She knew he had the ring when she followed him to Gollum’s cave and seeing it’s amazing powers, grew jealous of him and now was making up some story to get it for herself! Well, Bilbo wasn’t going to let himself be fooled by that. He smiled wickedly as he slipped his hand in his pocket and he said, before slipping on the ring,
“You tricks do not work on me, Turwaithiel Half-Elven! I bid my farewell to you!” Bilbo then slipped on the ring and ran as quick and as silently as he could away from the fire and the Elf and back towards the road on which he came from. He planned to go and find Gandalf and the Dwarves and not tell anyone of this encounter. Meanwhile, Turwaithiel stood, trying to stop him and then sighed heavily. She rubbed her head and said aloud,
“Plan A didn’t go as wanted, so now I will try plan B. I will go to the Lady Galadriel and tell her of the One Ring’s existence and of my failed mission to her. We will not let Sauron overthrow us again!” And, putting out the fire and grabbing her cloak, Turwaithiel mounted her mare Tathar and without another moment’s delay, rushed off towards Lothlorien.
Elenya
Weeks ago the ravens came, bringing news of war and strife. My father answered the call of Thorin Oakenshield, as did all of the men who could lift an axe. I can see if, as vividly as if it were yesterday, hoisting his axe into its belt loop, smiling grimly. He had on his father’s armor, carefully polished and cleaned, and he had combed his beard.
“I’ll see you in a few days. We’ll take care of those thieving elves in no time at all.” He put one firm hand on my mother’s shoulder, his other on mine. “Take care of yourselves.” With that, he turned and hurried out of the house, joining the lines of marching Dwarves.
Mother watched him for a moment. She had a look on her face I had never seen before- not even when my two brothers had left home. Longing, worry, and sadness mingled in her features, but she abruptly turned, the look replaced by her usual stoic one. “Come, Sigrun. We have more to do than stare at leaving armies.”
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The days passed slowly, filled with meaningless work. Children ran through the practically deserted streets, playing “war” with sticks for axes. Empty- that was the word to describe the entire city- empty and still. Mother was unusually quiet. I could tell she was worried.
One evening, Mother had finally run out of tasks to do and sat near the fire, staring out the door. She watched the western horizon, where the army had marched over it. I moved my chair next to hers and leaned my head on her shoulder. Not looking away, she said, “What is it, Sigrun?”
“Why are you so worried, Mother? Father has been in battle before. You and he have told me about it.”
“Yes, but those were orcs. Orcs know practically nothing of strategy, and their weapons are crude at best. The battle lasted so long simply because of their numbers.” She fell silent.
“But surely we will win the battle.” I prompted.
Sighing, she said, “These are men and elves. They have battle strategies, good weapons and armor, and numbers.” Finally, she turned and looked at me. “Sigrun,” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I am afraid. I am afraid that my husband and my sons will die in battle, and I will be left alone.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
“Mother.” I hugged her fiercely. “I am here. I will always be here. I promise, as long as I live, you will not be alone.”
She hugged me back. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to keep my own tears from falling. After a moment, she released me and sat back. “Well, your father would be ashamed of me if he found me crying like this.” She stood to ready the fire for the night, her tears gone.
I watched her. My mother had always been like a stone pillar for me to lean on, ever since I was a child. When I needed to cry, she held me and dried my tears. If I needed to talk to her about something, she was always open and ready with advice. Now, it was as though our roles had blurred. She had cried, and I had been the one to hold her. She had opened up to me, and now I was her protector, in a way at least. Shaking my head, I pulled off my boots and climbed into bed. I was worrying about nothing. In a few days, Father, Fíli and Kíli would be back, boasting of their skills and victories. Even so, worries chased though my mind as I fell asleep.
The days turned to weeks. Mother made no more mention of our conversation that night, and neither did I bring it up. She seemed herself again, working briskly and efficiently, talking with the neighbor women. Only in quiet moments did I see her looking towards the west where the men had marched off to, her hands hanging limply at her sides.
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“Dís, Sigrun, come quickly. Messengers!” One of our neighbors hurried past the house, her boots thumping loudly on the stone. Dropping one of my shirts she was mending, Mother ran outside. I was close behind her. We reached the city square, joining the women and children. Two tired- looking dwarf men stood in the midst of the crowd, their iron helms just visible above the crowds. Mother pushed her way towards them, pulling me in her wake.
“What news, Arif, Hákan?” Someone cried.
Arif, the older of the two, spoke up. “In the midst of the battle against the men and elves, goblins and Wargs attacked. The Dwarves joined forces with the men and elves, and they and defeated the evil beasts.”
A cheer went up from the crowd, but Hákan quickly silenced it. “Many Dwarves died. They were buried near the battlefield. The surviving are on their way here, and should be here in a day or two.
The crowd erupted into talk- asking questions about this man or that one, asking for more news. Mother pushed her way closer to Arif.
“What of my husband, Fíli and Kíli?”
“I saw them in the battle, but not after. I do not know what happened to them.” Without another word, he shoved his way tiredly through the crowd, in search of food and rest.
Mother turned as well, walking back to the house. I followed, expecting her to say something. She didn’t, though- just picked up my shirt again and continued mending it.
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The men returned two days later- weary, carrying the wounded. Mother dropped her cooking spoon and ran out to meet them. I followed more slowly, scanning the crowd for my father and brothers. I didn’t see them, but then, all I could see was dirty, tired faces beneath battered armor and helms. In the midst of the crowd, I could see Mother, pushing her way through, greeting the men, but always looking for her own loved ones.
I didn’t feel like going down to join the crowd. Sitting down, I could see them from where I was. I waited. By now most of the women and children had come outside, some more slowly, as if they were afraid. I could hear both shouts of excitement and screams of grief as wives, mothers, and sisters found news of their kin.
Eventually Mother left the crowd and walked slowly to where I was. Scrambling to my feet, I was about to ask for news, but the words died on my lips. I could tell by her face that my father and brothers had not survived.
She joined me, and we stared down at the crowds for a long moment. I wanted to scream, shout out my anger at the armies, at the ones that had killed my family, at the entire world. The sun was shining down brightly- it seemed like it was mocking my own sorrow. “The soup’s going to scorch.” I looked up at Mother, but she was already walking briskly back to our house. Her voice had sounded husky with tears, but that could have been my own imagination.
Later that day, a dwarf came to give us father’s, Fíli’s and Kíli’s belongings- there was little that had not been buried with them. Everything else is a blur for me. I remember working, trying to hold back tears. Watching Mother, she seemed so strong. Once or twice I saw her brush a hand across her eyes as she worked, but that was all. Even when women came to offer their condolences, she just nodded and thanked them.
I cried myself to sleep that night, muffling my face in my pillow. Later, I woke to the sound of Mother screaming in grief behind the house. It was a full throated, raw scream that gradually dissolved into weeping. It frightened me, for some reason I couldn’t fully explain.
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I could see no trace of tears on her face the next morning. “Good morning, Sigrun.” She greeted me in her usual brisk way.
“Good morning.” My own eyes felt dry and sandy, and I was still tired. As Mother made breakfast, she kept staring out the doorway or windows, her job forgotten for the moment. Each time she seemed to pull herself back to reality and shake her head a little, as if irritated with herself.
After breakfast, she stood to leave the house. Stopping in the doorway, her gaze drifted west, where her husband and sons were buried. Her body shook a little- it was the first sign of fear I had ever seen in her.
I stood and walked over to join her. “Mother.” I said hesitantly. She turned to face me. “I’m here Mother, I won’t leave you alone.”
She hugged me tightly. “I know, Sigrun.” She whispered. “And I won’t leave you.”