Ranger of the North

By: Katerinaki

Published: 9/10/2014

Beta'ed: No

Notes: I've been sitting on this story for a little while, since I saw the second Hobbit film. It's not finished and you know my track record thus far, but I'd still like to know what people think. There are far too many Mary-Sues in the Tolkien-verse and this is my first foray. I'd like to create a viable character. I can only do that with feedback. Thanks.

Chapter 1: Introductions

For nearly a fortnight, she'd tracked the small pack of orcs over the rough terrain of the foothills as it gave way to ancient forests and at last the rolling hills and pastures of the Shire. She should not have let them journey so far, but the weather had been miserable and Bruidal had slipped a shoe. She'd been forced to stop and pay a village blacksmith an undue amount of money to fix it. In the meantime the orcs had left a trail of bones and filth in their wake so wide that even a child could have followed it. If it wasn't for their arrogance and the stupidity of orcs, Arindeth might have lost them. But these orcs had remained unchallenged since their descent from the North. It was a testament to how thin her people were spread; enemies were beginning to slip through their patrols.

At last she caught up to them on the road south, not far from Overhill. They were lying in wait, setting a trap for an unfortunate traveler. Arindeth rode Bruidal as close as she dared before leaving the horse behind in favor of stealth. Under the shadows of the trees, Arindeth crept closer, her bow in hand and her sword loosened in its sheath. There were six of them, three on either side of the road. They snarled to each other in the Black Speech and Arindeth gritted her teeth against the harsh, guttural sounds. They seemed to be arguing, but Arindeth was not so well-versed in the tongue of the enemy to understand what the topic was.

She was about to slip closer, intent on quickly and quietly dispatching those closest to her before confronting the rest of the pack on the other side of the road. But as she prepared an arrow on her bow she heard the gentle clip-clop-clip-clop of a pony trotting down the road. Hobbits, the small and gentle Halflings of the Shire, rode ponies on the few occasions they journeyed beyond their own front doors. Horses were generally too big for them. The orcs sneered at each other and tensed, anticipating an easy target. As the pony and its rider rounded the bend, Arindeth had only a moment to decide her course of action. She loosed the arrow in her bow and it struck the first orc in the back. It fell dead into the road, surprising the traveler, but Arindeth was already aiming for the next orc, this one on the far side of the road, brandishing a gruesome axe. She struck the orc in the neck and it fell, gurgling on its own black blood. The closest to her had realized by then that they were not alone. They had forgotten their ambush and rushed her, snarling and growling and brandishing their own crude blades. Arindeth drew her sword and in a fast sweep, decapitated the first orc to reach her. She side-stepped the next, moving out on the road to avoid its wild swing. She took the orc's hand with a flick of her wrist and buried her sword in its gut. Fluidly spinning, she drew an arrow, but was surprised to find the last two orcs already lying dead. The traveler who stood over their corpses with a thick sword in hand was no hobbit. There was no mistaking the strong, stocky build or the expert craftsmanship of the sword and armor.

The dwarf turned on her, sword raised and prepared to defend. Arindeth did not lower her bow. No dwarf cut his beard; it was considered a mark of shame and dishonor. And yet, this dwarf had hardly a beard at all. His clothing and weapons were of impressive quality for an outcast. Perhaps he was a thief.

"Why is a dwarf traveling in the Shire, one may wonder?" Arindeth said gruffly.

The dwarf looked on her with suspicion, and rightly so. She was dressed in a gray cowl and a cloth covered her face, hiding her nose and mouth. He refused to lower his weapon and Arindeth prepared to do what she must, but something stayed her arrow. She saw something in his bearing and the gleam of his eye that made her second guess her first conclusions. She'd seen the same sort of quiet dignity in another who remained in hiding. When he spoke, he spoke with intelligence, but cautiousness.

"I would wonder the same. Why is a woman hunting a pack of orcs alone in the Shire, dressed as a vagabond?"

Arindeth inclined her head. "A fair question," she conceded. Slowly she lowered her bow and retrieved her sword from the body of the orc, carefully wiping it of the putrid, black blood before returning it to her belt. The dwarf watched her every move carefully, making his own assumptions no doubt, just as she'd made hers. He did not lower his own sword but rather held it before him warily.

"I have been tracking them for a fortnight. They came down from the mountains. My people protect these lands." Arindeth bent down, intent on learning where exactly these orcs had come from when she noticed something she had not seen before. Tucked into a pouch at the orc's belt was a scrap of paper. The words on it were written in the Black Speech and although she could not read it, she knew someone who could. She tucked the paper into her cloak and set about piling the carcasses. If left, they would rot the ground. They must be burned.

"What are you doing?" the dwarf asked, incredulous.

"Ensuring their filth does not spread." She took her flint and started a spark on some dried twigs and grass. Setting it to the orcs, the fire quickly spread up the pile and began consuming the remains. The air filled with an acrid smoke and a stench that would linger for days after. Arindeth and the dwarf moved away from the fire.

"You still have yet to tell me who you are," Arindeth said at last, turning her back on the flames and facing the dwarf once more.

He hesitated still. "I am a dwarf from the Blue Mountains," he said at last, "and my business is my own."

Arindeth was becoming more than a little frustrated in his obstinacy, but doubted she would be able to get any more information from him. She had more pressing matters anyway. The message burned in her cloak; her people needed to know what it said. Perhaps it would explain the sudden influx of orcs in the North.

"If your business is so urgent then it is best you go about it. But do not linger in these lands. They are peaceful and will remain as such, so long as I draw breath."

The dwarf could not hide his surprise in her tenacity but he quickly narrowed his eyes and nodded his understanding. "You have my word, I am merely passing through."

He called his pony to him and surprisingly enough it came. With one last acknowledgment, the dwarf was off, continuing down the road. Arindeth waited only until he was beyond her sight before calling Bruidal to her. The chestnut trotted to her and nudged her in the shoulder, snuffling her as if to determine if she was injured or not. This time, though, Arindeth was unscathed. She swung up into the saddle and turned east. If orcs were carrying messages and strange dwarves were passing through the Shire, then she had business with a wizard and there was one place he frequented enough to find him.

Bree was a small village of men located on the east-west road just outside the Shire. It was so close to the home of the hobbits that it was not uncommon to see Halflings amongst the Big-folk, as men were called. Arindeth had only been to Bree once before, but upon her first visit she made the acquaintance of an old man dressed entirely in gray. He was called Gandalf and he revealed himself as one of the Five Wizards, the Istari charged with watching over Middle Earth. He seemed quite meddlesome to Arindeth when she'd first met him and as she sat in the common room of the Prancing Pony with her hood drawn, sitting across the table from the same old man in gray, he seemed much the same. The message she'd taken from the orc pack many days ago sat on the table between them next to another, identical message. The second Gandalf had produced when she revealed the first.

"What does this mean?" she asked quietly, eyeing both messages.

"The dwarf you met on the road, what was he like?"

"Dark-haired, quite tall for a dwarf. His beard was cut and he said he was from the Blue Mountains." Gandalf nodded as he puffed on his pipe and Arindeth realized, "You know of whom I speak. Who was he?"

"What do you know of the dwarfs who live in the Blue Mountains?"

Arindeth pushed back her annoyance at Gandalf's continued reluctance to speak candidly. It was the way of a wizard, apparently, to never say anything straightforward.

"They mine iron and other lesser metals."

"And who leads them?"

"The Longbeard clan. Thorin son of Thrain who was—"suddenly she understood.

"King under the Mountain," Gandalf finished, "the King in Erebor."

Now she understood why the dwarf she'd come across seemed strange to her. He was not a thief as she once thought, but he was in exile, which explained his cut beard. The dwarves had been forced to flee Erebor many years before Arindeth had even been born. They wandered, eventually making a new home in the Blue Mountains. Thorin, with his father Thrain and grandfather Thror, had once ruled over the greatest dwarf kingdom of Middle Earth. His clothing, appearance, crisp speech and mistrustful tendencies all seemed reasonable now. But Arindeth still did not understand why the King of the Blue Mountains would be travelling alone through the Shire and Gandalf had yet to reveal what the messages said.

"These messages I have come across a number of times in recent days," Gandalf admitted, his hand straying to the paper but not touching it. "They are a promise of payment for the head of Thorin son of Thrain."

At this Arindeth was spurred into action. "We must warn him then."

But Gandalf had already raised a hand, urging her to sit again. "Thorin knows; I made sure of that."

"Then why is he still abroad, rather than back in the Blue Mountains where he is safe?"

"Because Thorin is gathering a company to undertake a very important and potentially dangerous quest. What do you know of Erebor?"

Arindeth could not suppress her sigh this time. With orcs roaming the Shire looking for a lone dwarf, there were more important things than another history lesson.

"It's called the Lonely Mountain. It lies far to the east, beyond the Greenwood. It is abandoned. The dragon Smaug makes his lair there and he guards the wealth of Erebor viciously."

"Except Smaug has not been seen in nearly fifty years. Eyes are beginning to turn to Erebor, including those of Thorin and his company, as well as the enemy. Thorin intends to take back Erebor and I have promised to help him."

Arindeth was used impossible tasks. As a Ranger she often took on duties that were more than what most men could handle, let alone a young woman, barely into her majority. Although she always seemed to manage to pull through, there was a limit to what she would attempt. Retaking the ancient dwarf city from a centuries-old, fire-breathing dragon was one of those things even she would not attempt.

"That is madness," she hissed. "Even with an army it would be foolish, and something tells me you are not intending to bring an army."

"No, we are not."

"Then you are intending on stealth. Why are you telling me all this? If stealth is your mission, then it is best fewer know of this quest."

"Because I believe you may help."

And so Arindeth finally understood why Gandalf answered her summons so quickly and what he had been leading her to this whole evening as they sat at a private table in the Prancing Pony. He had a task for her, one that was probably dangerous and should be undertaken by six men, and yet she would be expected to do it alone.

"I believe that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield would greatly benefit by your presence."

Arindeth snorted. "I am merely a ranger, Gandalf, and not the greatest nor the most experienced."

"No, but you are well acquainted with these lands, as well as those east of the mountains. You are an accomplished tracker and experienced healer but most importantly you tend to think before you act, which is something I fear this company will be severely lacking."

"I thought that is why you are helping them," Arindeth smirked.

"But I will not be able to remain with them throughout their quest. As you can see, there are greater forces at work here." He gestured to the messages.

Arindeth was still reluctant to agree to such a quest. She was a ranger. Her place was not with a company of dwarves on a fool's errand to the east. It was here, safeguarding the north with her kin as her father and grandfather had before her. That was her mission, not the reclaiming of Erebor.

Gandalf sensed her reluctance, much as he seemed to sense everything. He leaned in closer and his voice dropped. "You have noticed the increase in orc activity. Darkness is beginning to stir; these troubles are only the beginning of it. If the enemy were to bring Smaug to its side, to claim the wealth of Erebor for its own, the destruction would be like nothing seen since the dawn of the Third Age. Thorin's quest, however impossible it may seem, must succeed. He cannot do it alone."

Arindeth sighed heavily. How could she continue to refuse when Gandalf seemed so determined to convince her? If what he said was true, then he was right. Thorin would need help, and Arindeth was sworn to protect Middle Earth from all evils. Her hand reached up and she lightly brushed the eight-point star pinned to her gray cloak. It was the only adornment she or any of her fellow rangers wore. It reminded them of their duty.

"I cannot," she finally said. "I have a sworn duty to protect these lands. I cannot leave them, but I will help Thorin Oakenshield pass through them safely. Where is he gathering his company?"

Gandalf did not seem disappointed in her words. He merely nodded and puffed on his pipe. "Ten days hence at a home in Hobbiton. You'll know it by the mark on the door. Supper will be served."

Arindeth nodded. She placed some coin on the table for her food and stood to go. But just before she left, she paused and turned back to Gandalf.

"If stealth is your mission, I presume you have a way of getting into the mountain, yes?"

"Of course," Gandalf replied.

"Surely I was not the one expected to slip inside?"

"No," Gandalf assured her and he smiled fondly. "I have a very special person in mind for that."

Ten days hence found Arindeth once more within the boundaries of the Shire, this time travelling by the road towards the central town of the Shire, Hobbiton. It was rare that Arindeth ventured so far into the Shire, and so she received many suspicious, pointed looks from the hobbits she passed along the way. They would look up from their sweeping and gardening as she came up the road and seem first surprised by Bruidal's size, and then their eyes would take in her travel-worn clothing and partially concealed face. Then they would shake their heads and more than a few mothers would usher their children inside. She was most obviously a disturber of the peace and the least contact the better, in any respectable hobbit's opinion. Arindeth for her part ignored the looks and obvious lack of welcome. She was used to it. There were very few places in the north where Rangers like her were welcome. Most of the time they were met with scorn and distrust. When Arindeth had first begun patrolling it had bothered her. She knew many a Ranger who had given his or her lives so that the very same people who turned them away might live in peace. The longer she roamed, the less it affected her, but she still noticed it everywhere she went.

The hobbits did not stop her, for all their sour looks. Arindeth rode through Hobbiton, looking for a door with a mark on it that might indicate the location of Thorin's meeting. The sun was going down and the doors were set into the hillsides and generally difficult to see. Hobbiton was not as large as some towns that she had seen in her lifetime, but it was sprawling and Arindeth soon found herself riding in circles down winding little paths, still not seeing the door with the mark. The stars were appearing in the sky overhead and the moon shone down on her and still she wandered, beginning to feel frustration. Surely Gandalf had told her the proper time and location. She was about to climb down from Bruidal's back and ask one of the gossip-mongers by the corner when she heard the clanking of iron and deep mutters that did not sound like hobbit voices. Sure enough, just around the bend of the next path were two dwarves, tromping up the hill to a lone hobbit hole at the end of the road. Ahead of them were three more dwarves and yet more further from those. If the presence of dwarves didn't give away the location of the gathering, the small mark at the bottom of the door, gleaming softly in the low light, would've told Arindeth she had finally found what she was looking for.

Arindeth eyed the hill and the freshly trimmed garden that framed the neat and tidy hobbit hole. She climbed down from Bruidal's back. "Maybe it is best you spend the night down here," she told her faithful horse as she took the bridle from his mouth and the saddle off his back. He happily set off into the open meadow, greedily trimming the lush, green grass. Arindeth set her tack and supplies in the shadows at the base of a nearby tree, confident they would be safe there. Hobbits, for all their lightness of foot, were not known to be thieves, and if some tried their luck, Bruidal would set them straight.

Arindeth began climbing the hill, staying well away from the dwarves up ahead. Gandalf had made it clear the secrecy of this meeting. And if she knew the wizard as she thought, it was unlikely he told them she was coming. She stayed back in the shadows as the first set of dwarves was let in by a quite startled hobbit, only for the next to come tromping up the road. They did not see her, but then dwarves were not known for their powers of observation, as they were for their skills in smithing. She stayed in the shadows for quite some time as more and more dwarves poured into the home of the poor hobbit, who seemed to be getting more and more flustered each time he opened the door. At last she saw the figure she had been hoping for. Coming up the hill riding a horse of his own and humming gently to himself as was his way, came Gandalf. He seemed only to be enjoying a ride out on a fine evening and certainly not traveling to a clandestine meeting. As he passed her temporary post, he paused.

"There is no need to hide in the shadows, my lady," he said genially. "None of those arriving to this meeting wish you any harm."

Arindeth smiled as she stepped out of the shadows, pulling the scarf from her face. "The ones to be careful of never wish any harm. And I thought you valued my tendency to observe before acting."

"Indeed I do, but there are times for scouting and times for going inside before the dwarves have eaten all the food."

"Yes, I daresay there is quite a company in that house," Arindeth nodded towards the hobbit hole in question. "And your host seems overwhelmed."

Gandalf chuckled. "It will be good for him," he insisted. "Still, let's relieve him, shall we?"

Gandalf dismounted and left his horse to graze with Bruidal before the two of them climbed the hill to the hobbit door with Gandalf's mark. The most recent collection of dwarves had piled up at the door and no sooner had Gandalf and Arindeth arrived did the door open and all the dwarves spill into the entrance hall. The flustered hobbit who answered the door looked up at Gandalf and frowned.

"Gandalf," he sighed heavily giving Gandalf the same look of disapproval Arindeth had seen from his fellow hobbits.

"Good evening my dear Bilbo!" Gandalf replied heartily. He stepped around the dwarves who were righting themselves in the hallway. Arindeth hung back, just inside the door and watched the dwarves with amusement. They fussed over each other and muttered all manner of things as they straightened weapons and stomped mud off their boots in the foyer.

"Give us a hand, will you?" Arindeth reached down and helped the dwarf to his feet. He grunted and straightened his rather interesting hat. "Bofur at your service," he said, reaching out a hand only to realize that he had to reach significantly higher. When he finally looked up at Arindeth's face, his eyes were wide with astonishment.

"You're a girl," he said, flabbergasted.

"Indeed," Arindeth replied, brushing past the dwarf to follow the majority of the group towards the pantry, which was currently in the process of being pillaged. Across the way in the dining room, dwarves were gathering chairs from all corners of the hobbit hole, much to Bilbo's frustration. The hobbit bounced back and forth in futile attempts to stop them.

"Are you a friend of Gandalf's?" Bofur pressed on.

"By some standards." Arindeth found a place where she was out of the way for the most part. Gandalf stood right in the middle of it all, seeming most amused as he took count of each of the dwarves. There were so many and they were all going in different directions. Arindeth wasn't entirely sure how many were present. Bofur didn't seem to want to give it a rest, even though he'd been press-ganged into passing food across to the dining room from the pantry.

"What do you mean by that?"

Arindeth sighed. "You may consider me a friend of Gandalf's, but you only know me through Gandalf. To others who know us better we may be considered merely acquaintances or not even that."

Bofur looked confused as he handed mugs of ale across. "So you're a friend of Gandalf's," he said finally. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Arindeth inclined her head politely. "And you as well, Master Bofur." She slipped in to the dining room and took a seat near the doorway. Gandalf sat as well and the two of them looked rather out of place at the low table. To be honest Arindeth felt acutely claustrophobic in such a short house. A hobbit hole was built for a hobbit, not someone of the race of Men like Arindeth and so she found herself dipping her head as she went through doorways and crouching, even if there was plenty of room. She felt as if she was sitting at a table made for children, and perhaps she was. Certainly she'd seen better table manners from children than those of the dwarves who sat crowded around poor Mr. Bilbo's table. They were rowdy and noisy and they spewed food and ale everywhere. Food was often thrown across the room and one of the dwarves, Fili was his name, even stepped across the table to bring more ale when he and his brother Kili had run dry.

Gandalf seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the entire hubbub. He grabbed food off of plates as they went by and drank his ale with the rest of them. He smiled and laughed and when he was finished eating he took out his ever handy pipe and began smoking. Arindeth was no princess brought up in a grand hall, but she had been raised with table manners and these dwarves had none.

"Bofur tells me you are a friend of Gandalf's." The white-bearded dwarf seated next to Arindeth sat back and took a pull from his mug. "Balin, son of Fundin."

"Arindeth," she replied.

"I have not had much cause to speak to a ranger before," Balin admitted.

"Nor I a dwarf."

"It is not often we travel east. Has Gandalf shared the reason for our little gathering?"

"He did provide me with some details." Arindeth took a sip of her wine. "He thought that you would need my expertise. I know these lands better than most and which ways are safest."

Balin frowned, watching Gandalf out of the corner of his eye. "Gandalf seems to have many 'friends' who could assist us, none of whom I've met until now."

"I will not be accompanying you on the entire journey. My duty lies here in the west. I will see you to the mountains and no further."

That she would not be going all the way to Erebor with them seemed to ease Balin's worries, though he still watched her with interest out of the corner of his eye as the other dwarves cleaned the dishes with gusto and a song. Bilbo seemed about ready to keel over and Arindeth didn't know how this hobbit was meant to survive the journey to the Lonely Mountain, let alone venturing inside the lair of a dragon. Arindeth was sure Bilbo was the one Gandalf intended to send inside. Why a hobbit and not a thief, she didn't understand, but then there were many things Gandalf did that she didn't understand. It was the way of a wizard, or at least of this wizard.

The dwarves had finished cleaning the dishes and were just beginning to pull out pipes of their own when there was a great knock at the door. Could there be more dwarves still? The room grew silent as it hadn't been all night and Arindeth knew who stood at the door before they gathered in the hall to greet him. Thorin Oakenshield stepped through the door, looking much the way he had when Arindeth had encountered him on the road. His bearing was much more obvious now, though perhaps it was merely because she knew his true identity now. He greeted his dwarves with a smile, all the while complaining to Gandalf about the location of their clandestine meeting.

"I lost my way, twice," he declared, handing his cloak off. "Wouldn't have found it at all if it wasn't for the mark on the door."

Bilbo immediately protested. "There is no mark on that door; it was painted a week ago."

"Er, there is a mark on the door, my dear Bilbo. I put it there," Gandalf admitted. "May I present the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin, this is Bilbo Baggins."

Thorin's eyes swept over Bilbo's bare feet and simple clothes and seemed doubtful. "This is your burglar? Looks more like a grocer to me."

"I'm not a burglar!" Bilbo retorted.

"Have you ever fought before? Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?"

"Well I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know," Bilbo replied haughtily, "but I fail to see how that's…relevant."

Thorin looked up at Gandalf, unimpressed, and that was when he caught sight of Arindeth who stood just behind Gandalf. Thorin's expression immediately turned from cynical to enraged. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"Oh, she's a friend of Gandalf's," Bofur replied matter-of-factly.