Chapter Text
Found alone by a couple of dwarves in the forest as a mere child, you had been taken to the mountains and raised as one of their own. Your adoptive parents were the kindest you could have ever asked for, and never treated you any differently despite your elvish descent. Your different species only became apparent when you stayed young for much longer than your parents did, them reaching old age before you reached your teenage years. You had to watch them grow old before you matured yourself, cursing the heavens for not making you one of their own.
After your parents' passing, it had been arranged for you to stay with Balin, son of Fundin. He was a dear friend of your parent´s and though you were reaching adulthood, your parents had not wanted you to be alone. With him, you grew and matured, and were slowly introduced to his trade, advising and counselling the royal family of Erebor. You quickly grasped the work, understanding the politics, the complexities, and dilemmas faced within the Dwarven kingdom. You had been one of the few to agree with the Elf king, Thranduil, in his warning against keeping such gold within the kingdom in fear of what it might bring... but your alliance and siding with the elves came to a swift end when the woodland realm refused to help as the dragon finally did show its wrath.
Many years had passed, and though you hardly saw the dwarves anymore, you kept in touch with Balin and with Thorin, occasionally visiting them and hearing of their lives. You led your own life, hopping from place to place and offering your guidance where you were welcome – mostly to men, other dwarves and the occasional hobbit-village (they had never heard of you, of course, but they appreciated help where they could get it with lifting and reaching). Your reputation had preceded you, and it was not hard for you to get work in different realms and villages, all from strategic planning for battle to guidance on infrastructure and river placements. Through your work, you had both traded for money and traded for knowledge and training, slowly acquiring skills in fighting and swordsmanship. You were once gifted two daggers that you kept on either side of your hips, which were your chosen weapon.
When news came that Thorin was going to reclaim the mountain, you had no hesitation in your heart – you had to be part of it.
It had been so lovely to reconnect with your friends and those who you considered your family, such as Balin and Dwalin. You had received several comments, especially from Fili and Kili, on how you had not aged a day since they last saw you, hinting that your beauty had not left your side. You tried to avoid these comments, a mere reminder of the years you would spend on this earth after their time.
The few that you had a chance to meet and acquaint yourself with for the first time were the little hobbit and the wizard. The wizard had apparently heard of you many times, was familiar with your story, and almost seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. Bilbo, the sweet hobbit, quickly became your friend in this quest, and you tried your best to keep Thorin´s sharp tongue from insulting him.
The quest had not come without difficulties and dangers – that was expected – but when the company was captured by elves in Mirkwood, that was were things turned awry.
You had tried to warn the others, explaining that the forest was a dangerous place and not one to cross if you had the choice, but the forest was taken anyway, and now you were surrounded by elves, arrows pointing at your company. As the young elven prince, Legolas, was analysing Thorin´s sword, you started to move forward, anger taking over your senses, but Balin put an arm in front of you, looking up and shaking his head.
"Not just a thief, but a liar as well," Legolas accused Thorin as he pointed the elvish sword against his neck. That was where you drew the line. "That blade belongs to him just as much as your bow belongs to you-!" you snapped at the prince, pushing your way forwards but still behind Thorin – you respected his authority, and he should remain at the strong forefront. Legolas switched his gaze towards you – the source of the ruckus. "And who are you? An elf amidst the stench of dwarves?" he looked at you, scrunching his nose ever so slightly. You clenched your jaw, trying to keep yourself from saying something you would later regret. Legolas stared at you, a look of satisfaction on his face as he realised you would not speak back. He spoke in Elvish, commanding the guards to seize the company.
You were then led into the woodland realm, the halls of the elven king who had once betrayed you.
You tried to release yourself from the grasp of the elves, but Balin, who was behind you, strongly advised you to stop. "If they have a reason to kill you, they will," he spoke sternly, and you reluctantly followed his word. You took a breath, frustration and anger washing over you. You scanned your surroundings, not a mere moment to appreciate the elvish craftsmanship, for the only thoughts that struck were the ones that cursed you for ever agreeing with the elves.
As Thorin was led to the king, the guard also commented, "There is an elf amongst their midst," to which Thranduil tilted his head, looking to Thorin. "After all these years, she still returns to the likes of dwarves?" he asked, a hint of snark in his tone, but he stayed civil, for there were things he, too, craved from the depths of the mountain. "For she has loyalty," Thorin groaned back, no need for him to explain his comment further, he merely stared darkly at the elven king.
Thranduil raised his eyebrows, a look of amusement took over his cold demeanour, before looking to the guard. "Take her to me," he ordered. The guard merely nodded, leaving Thorin and Thranduil to their conversation.
Thranduil offered Thorin a deal; he would let them go for the promise of the white gems in the mountain. Thorin refused, speaking of loyalty and betrayal, and as he was being led away by the guards, you were reluctantly being pulled by your arm up towards the king, passing by Thorin as you heard the king speak: "a hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf-".
You looked at your friend, a frown on your face. "Do not trust a word he says-!" Thorin seethed through gritted teeth as he was being pushed and pulled away. You then looked up towards the deceiving king.
"I am patient – I can wait."