By the Light of the Fire

It had been a long night. First their fight during the first coming of light, when rogue Goblins had crawled up through the woods after seeing the cinders of the fire. It hadn't been exhausting, but they knew they were advancing on danger. Bilbo had complained relentlessly that his Hobbit hole would offer far more comfort that any slaying of Goblins. They had trekked through the woodlands and into the mouth of hell when the Orcs following an Elven rider had breached their safety net.

His eyes began to drift of, completely unaware of where he was looking, a smile graced his features.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Hobbit” Ainsel remarked, knowing his eye was on her.

“Hmnn? But I wasn’t....” It was too much effort; he drifted off into the beckoning world of slumber.

Ainsel snorted, poking at the fire absentmindedly with a long stick.
Darkness remained but for a few more hours. The Dwarves didn’t rise with the sun that morning, they slumbered until it was time for elevenses, and the vast majority had arisen.

“It is a fine morning my good fellows! Our path is clear, well... for now.” Gandalf had returned from the deeper woods, greeting those who were awoke. All those remaining asleep he made sure to hit with his staff swiftly to the stomach to jolt their attention to the waking world. “I see you have further company in my absence. Welcome Ainsel” Clutching his staff he looked down at the green eyes poking out from under the spare sleeping cover. She moved down the cloth to greet him.

“Morning Gandalf, I hope your journey was more pleasant than mine!” Ainsel was happy to see a slightly familiar face.
“Gandalf you know Ainsel?” Asked Fili.

“Indeed! I met her once on my travels through these woods, she alerted me on her passing of Orcs that threatened to upset my peaceful day!” Ainsel got herself up from a lazed comfort to sit on the hard earth, greeted by many confused expressions. Bilbo had now given the conversation his attention as Gandalf had knocked him with the staff especially hard.

“He set off a firework to confuse the Goblins, while their eyes were greedily desiring the sparkles, I carved them in two!” she merrily squeaked. The dwarves let out a cheer and went about finishing their breakfast.

Once the company had finished their breakfast, and various snacks in multiples, gathered their belongings and compiled everything into the ponies’ saddlebags. It was a merry morning indeed. The dwarves hummed songs about their mountains, Gandalf and Bilbo blew smoke rings in contempt and Ainsel followed on, unsure of what a band of Dwarves, a Wizard and a Hobbit were doing on the other side of the mountains in the dangerous woods, but she shrugged it off, for now she was happy for the small level of companionship until she reached the ends of the woodland. She didn’t want to tell them that she had been in those woods for almost 40 years, roaming the lands, backwards and forwards. Once she reached the end, she would just simply make a means to an end and turn back, clearing the pathways once more. It was her existence.

Anyone else would seek refuge in a safe heaven. Rivendell had been suggested to her many a time before from passersby; she contemplated, but once at the beginning of the forest, she would turn to the end again. But then, Ainsel was no normal creature…
“So if you don’t mind us asking Ainsel, are you half Dwarf?!” Bombur asked bashfully.

“No my friends, I am no Dwarf.” She replied.

“’Tis a shame, you would make a funny looking dwarf though!” Ori joked.

Ainsel made a small hum of laughter.

“Maybe she’s a Hobbit!” Dwalin cheered. But there was no cheer on Ainsel’s face, no mark of laughter, no grace of humble humour. She fell silent; Thorin looked upon her face, and threw an expression at Dwalin and others in his line of vision to be weary. It hit her small nerves.

“No. I am no Hobbit” trying to be chipper, with a monotone voice she stared blankly for seconds, until Oin’s horse got snagged under a tree trunk, it’s hooves clipped against the weight of the heavy timber, the Horse's blind panic sent his hooves bolting upright and the poor dwarf tumbling to the ground, it dragged him for many a tree length before stopping sharply with Oin’s face planted firmly in the mud. Everyone laughed, Ainsel squealed with laughter at such a hilarious sight.

Laughing and joking along the way indeed! The group approached a clearing that would be of suitable rest for the horses for an hour or two as they sat to eat their lunch. A late start out into the wilderness meant a late sleep and lack of for them all. Bombur cooked up a fabulous meal, but only a fraction of it had been dished out to the group, the rest went into his already full belly, and what a generous amount of food he did prepare in the first place! The afternoon was drawing a close and clearing its path for a clear, evening sky.

“Ainsel?” a small voice asked from behind her. She turned her head to see a certain Hobbit, a Mug of ale within his grasp and a smoking pipe within the other.

“Yes?” She answered. Not wanting to offer any emotion to the creature. He perched himself down next to her, shuffling about with his legs crossed.

“I don’t mean to offend you, but you haven’t told us what other race you belong to. Just a harmless question!” Bilbo propped up his spare hand in defense, while the pipe rested now in his mouth, hoping not to get a hurl of insult off this ill mannered girl, but his curiosity made him the inquisitive Cat, inviting something unwelcome.

She decided to entertain the notion, seeing his aura slightly intoxicated with Dwarvish brew of ale. “I’m an Orc.” Bilbo gasped and grabbed for his beacon of indication, his dagger.

“It’s....” he looked over it for a long time. “It’s not glowing...” he looked at her with large, wide eyes.

“What would it matter if it was? Does my race really matter to you?” She asked calmly, picking at some meat with her teeth and staring absently into the fire that glistened embers into the afternoon light.

“No.” He stated. “Not at all, I wouldn't care if you were an Orc, you’re a very...” this grabbed her attention as he hesitated. A lump in the poor Hobbits throat formed. “Nice Orc...” It seemed more of a question that a statement, and the first part was a hesitant search for a non offensive word. But it did sound ridiculous!

“I’m not an Orc, you halfwit. Although I might as well be...” Ainsel’s voice grew low. Why was she humoring this Hobbit? She feared these creatures. He seemed, somewhat different from the stories she had been told. “I don’t know what I am. Deformed? All I know is that I’m not welcome in my clan”

“You don’t look deformed to me” he tried to sooth her sorrow slightly. “Rivendell would suit you, true that elves are tall, but your height would not matter to them at all. Elrond was kind to us all!” She felt flattered that he was trying to talk to her, she tried not to be snotty or insulted by his attempts to speak to her, but she felt uneasy.

“I don’t think these woods will let me leave...” she whispered, not particularly to dear, confused Bilbo. He watched her place her head atop her knees which huddled against her. She was so... non Elf like in so many ways, just the slight essence and grace of an elf.
A small nose, rosy round cheeks and darker green eyes, white hair indeed! But her body was not the tall, sleek elf body. Well, to our friend Bilbo, she had the appearance that mainly consisted of a Hobbit. He had maybe staring a little too long, she seemed to pick up on his gaze, and the elitist attitude came back, she snorted and got to her feet.

‘She’s an odd one’ Bilbo thought to himself, and accidentally voiced the word ‘Odd’ out loud... Maybe she heard, or maybe she didn't, she didn't look at him again after that.

They journeyed onward until deeper night. No event happened, it was... peaceful and that to Ainsel was a worry. Even Gandalf had that omniscient expression of worry on his aged and knowledgeable face.

Stopping again for a few brief hours the group drank the remaining rationed ale and then put out their fire, climbed into bed and went to sleep; presumably…

Slightly drunken off fine but strong Dwarvish ale, Bilbo decided that this mystery would be solved! Feeling sneaky and indestructible, the ultimate burglar! (Having no burglary experience and running into a spot of bother trying to prove himself against stealing from very large troll in the company of two other trolls, he felt like he would redeem himself) Indeed!

He crept, as quietly as possible, trying to wake no-one. He succeeded for the most part. He didn't count on the Elvish senses Ainsel had inherited. She didn't move a muscle, relaxed her breathing and listened for where the rustling was coming from. He tried not to get too close; his breath was thick with a bitter twinge of beer. ‘What a noisy bugger’ Ainsel thought to herself, thinking the Hobbit was settling down near to her to go to sleep. She was wrong.

She felt her silky hair being pulled back slowly, she knew now what he was trying to do. Her arm lunged out to circulate his forearm; she pressed down on his pressure point and twisted, gaining a very noisy ‘Ouch!’ from the Hobbit few times over.

“What were you trying to do?” She spat in a menacing tone at Bilbo who was wriggling around and trying to push her off.
“I just… wanted to see your ears” He whispered foolishly and truthfully, now rousing several sleeping Dwarves.

“Why?” Ainsel snapped back.

“I just wanted, wanted to know if you were like me!” He barked back at her, not liking being pinned down at all as she forced a hand into his shoulder while still holding his arm, digging the index finger deeper into the pressure point of his forearm.

“I’m not like you; I’m not a worthless Hobbit. Don’t even think about doing that again!” Her voice was becoming a venomous whisper, but still loud for those in close proximity.

“Don’t kill each other please, I’m trying to sleep. Do it in the mornin’ if you must!” complained Bofur from under his sleeping facilities.

Ainsel threw Bilbo’s arm away from her with force. “If it matters to you so much…” She pulled her hair behind her ears to show them. Not what he expected… They were just… Not very Hobbit like at all in the darkness… ‘Maybe in daylight’ Bilbo stopped himself from thinking any further.

Ainsel stripped off her leather and fur shoes under her green silk dress; she had taken to wearing them shortly before meeting the group under foul circumstance. No hair… ‘Maybe she shaves it’ he found himself thinking dumbfounded, but it wasn't the most stupid idea he had all night…

“I’m not worthless…” he insisted, trailing off slightly with a pang of self doubt hitting his nerves. She was a cruel Elf! Bilbo loved the elves, there was something so enchanting about them, but the more he suffered exposure to Ainsel’s aura the more he began to consider the idea that Elves weren't all kind. But after all, she was half something else. His slightly drunken mind began to wonder as the solitary Elf snatched up her belongings and climbed the nearest tree, grunting as she went along, tempted to kick Bilbo in the leg like a spoiled child.

Hoisting up her bare feet, not bothering to pop her shoes back on her soles stuck nicely to the trees, too nicely for comfort, but the Hobbit didn't see her do this, he probably thought under his influence that she somehow grew wings and flew… He didn't care either way as of that moment.

“Night night” he cooed to Ainsel.

She perched herself grumpily in a tree to await the morning light…