Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings, all rights belong to J.R.R Tolkien and Peter Jackson respectively. I only own my OC's. This applies to the whole fanfiction as I am likely to forget.

A/N: Just a quick note, this fic is a mixture of the books and films, so don't worry if you haven't read the books. There will be no romance between my OC and any other characters-if that is what you're after there are plenty of other fics out there. This is a tenth walker fic. I have researched as much as I can into nature spirits in Tolkien's world and have obviously taken some artistic license when creating the race. There is some lore in this chapter and I tried to keep it as short as possible; I hope it is not too confusing, but please let me know.

The song at the beginning is called 'Hey ho to the bottle I go' and Peter Hollens does a great cover of it in his 'Hobbit drinking medley' on Youtube, so do go check that out because he does so many beautiful lotr covers. And without further ado, let's get this thing started!

Chapter 1: Servants of the Valar

"Hey ho, to the bottle I go! To heal my heart and drown my woe! Rain may fall and wind may blow, but there'll still beeeeeee many miles to go! Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain, and the stream that falls from hill to plain. Better than rain or rippling brook-"

"Is a mug of beer inside this Took!"

Raucous laughter spilled out into the evening air from inside 'The Green Dragon' inn as Pippin sang the final line of the joyous song, and Ilaira couldn't help but join in with the hobbits merriment by releasing a small chuckle of her own. She had been humming and singing along to the drinking tune from her position atop the inns roof, her back leaning against one of the brick chimneys as she smiled up at the stars, her foot tapping along and head swaying side to side as she pretended to conduct them with her finger; for in Ilaira's opinion it was a tune worthy of conducting, so carefree and full of joy as it was.

It would be completely impossible though for her to conduct them in any of their merry tunes, and it was for the same reason that she was sitting here alone on the dark roof instead of enjoying the warm glow of a fire inside; the hobbits did not know she existed, despite the fact that she had lived in the Shire for around 3,028 years.

The truth of it was that no one in all of Middle Earth knew of her existence, nor her peoples. Those who knew of her race and are still alive now have likely forgotten, for her kind have not walked the earth for 3,041 years, since before the end of the Second Age.

No record of them exists, for the Queens of Ilaira's race took all of their scrolls and ancient writings with them when they disappeared; mentions of them in other races texts are few and far between, and so are dismissed as a writer's crazy fantasies, used in order to entice and capture the reader's imagination, or a simple error where they must have mistaken a real race for this fairy tale one.

However, Ilaira's race is no fairy tale.

They have been called many things through the ages, for they have existed since the creation of Arda itself; fae, nymph, sprite. But simply put, they are the race of Nature Spirits; the embodiment of all natural things that make up the world, from the trees to the rivers, the winds to the mountains, and they are all the servants of the Valar, the great powers of Arda who shaped the world.

The nature spirits are the servants of the Valar for it is they who created them at the beginning of all things:

First came the Spirits of the Sky, born from the very breath of Manwë, Wind Lord and First King. He is the breath of all living things in Arda and controls the air, wind, clouds and storms. The women of the clouds, a name given to the spirits by the race of Men, are the embodiment of these things, and carry out their Lords orders, taking great pride and even boasting of their powerful creator, King of all Valar. They are free to wonder the skies and gleefully cause mischief for those below, stealing washing off lines and blowing wind up women's skirts; you would be hard pressed to see them do these deeds, for they are almost transparent in appearance, made of the roaring wind itself. Yet they are a pessimistic and detached people, for they can never set foot upon the earth, forever to remain in the skies above.

It was Ulmo, Lord of the Waters, who created the Water Spirits. He has command over the movement of all water on Middle Earth, from great oceans, lakes and rivers, to mist, dew and rain. Every lake, river, stream and brook he created with a water spirit to care and watch over it, and the women of the waters are a proud and regal people, much more reserved than the spirits of the sky. Water women are gentle, kind and hospitable, having a more realistic approach to life than the other spirits, yet they can be as changing as their creator; one moment calm, then without warning a raging storm the next.

The Mountain Spirits were created by Aulë, The Smith and The Maker of Mountains. He shaped Arda and was master of all crafts, maker of the race of Dwarves, whom are the only other beings the mountain spirits care for in the world. Aulë's spouse is Yavanna the Fruitful, creator of the Forest Spirits, though despite this the two kinds of spirits do not get along. The men of the mountains come into being when a mountain is made, though they are large, brutish and simple minded; these are the spirits which the women of the forests loathe so much. However, there are a few men of the mountains who are not like this; they appear as all the other spirits do, their mountains having been carved into grand halls by the race of Dwarves, refining them and imbuing the mountain spirits with civility and grandeur. This is why they love the dwarves so.

Finally we come to the Spirits of the Forests, their creator Yavanna, Queen of the Earth, guardian of all living things and creator of all forests upon Middle Earth, as tall and elegant as a cypress tree. The women of the forests are the guardians of all Olvar; every living thing which is rooted in the ground, and each plant and tree has a spirit of its own. Ilaira is one such spirit, her people optimistic and joyful, appearing to be naïve on the outside as they are carefree and prefer to stay rooted to one place for their whole lives, never venturing into the wide world around them; yet they are actually grounded in reality, aware of everything going on around them, their compassion for all living things their biggest strength. Though perhaps it is also a weakness?

All nature spirits are the size of Hobbits, and are a peaceful people. It was because of this that Yavanna created the Ent's, to protect her forest spirits from that which they could not run from.

Nature spirits, with the exception of spirits of the sky, cannot stray far from their Soul Origin, that from which they were born. For a forest spirit it is their Soul Tree or Plant, for a water spirit their Soul River or Lake, and for a mountain spirit it is their Soul Mountain. When a nature spirit comes into being, such as a forest spirit, it is because a tree or plant has also come into being, therefore the nature spirits very soul and life force is attached to said tree. Part of them resides there, and part of their tree also resides within them; it is what gives them their powers and the ability to manipulate their element. So if one of them should die or perish, so would the other; the forest spirits are understandably the most vulnerable to this, as a mountain or river cannot be burnt or felled with ease. When a spirit does travel away from their Soul Origin they are incredibly weakened, and can even die if they go too far. Fortunately, they can all feel when they are being weakened and reached the limit of their travel, almost like a barrier has been raised, though it is easily passable.

The only exceptions are the spirits who are considered to be royalty and are part of the Spirit Council; there are twelve members in all, four spirits each from the domains of forest, sky and water, including the Queens of each element.

These council members are more powerful than your average nature spirits, being able to travel wherever they wish too and having no boundary around their Soul Origin. But it is the Queens who hold the most power of all; they have the ability to perform great rituals, such as the one required to grant spirits a short time away from their Soul Origin. However, even when this ritual is performed a spirit will still feel weakened by the distance between them and their Soul Origin; even the Queens and council members feel this weakness when travelling far and wide across Middle Earth.

So now you too know of the nature spirits, and perhaps you have seen them in your garden, tending to the roses or making the blossoms bloom in spring time, or making the leaves fall in autumn; or perhaps you have not.

Ilaira continued to hum the merry tune and tap her foot, despite the drinking song having ended long ago, the full moon bright in the midnight sky as it illuminated the rolling hills of the Shire below.

Ilaira looked at her tapping foot, her mind wandering aimlessly (as it often does when one is relaxed and content about everything in that current moment) and she contemplated her likeness to hobbits. Her feet were and had always been bare, yet they were of average size, much smaller than a hobbits, and whilst her ears were pointed they more like the elves ears than the Halflings.

So really, when she thought about it, she only shared their height and light-hearted temperament, and if she were to wander among them she was almost certain rumours and whispers would begin to spread. For if there was one thing she had learned about hobbits, it was that they were awful gossips, especially if there was a hobbit who was considered to be slightly 'strange' or 'odd', different from the rest; one such example was dear old Bilbo Baggins.

Despite their gossiping ways, Ilaira had always had a strange fondness for hobbits, and over the years she had grown particularly fond of those who dwelled in Bag End; the 'strange' Bilbo Baggins and his younger cousin Frodo who currently dwelled there. They did not know of her existence, like everybody else, but Ilaira found that she loved and cared for them deeply.

Perhaps it was because her Soul Tree was the oak on the hill above Bag End, or perhaps it was because of their adventurous spirits; she didn't quite know. What she did know however, was that even Frodo's friends, Sam, Merry and Pippin, had also become very dear to her; Ilaira made sure the garden at Bag End never wilted, though she knew Sam would never let that happen, and his love of gardening was one of the reasons she was so fond of him. The latter two of that list were very entertaining, to say the least.

Even from a distance Merry and Pippin never failed to make Ilaira laugh, and she could remember the night of Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party as clearly as one could see the moon on a cloudless night.

She had been watching the party from the eaves of her oak tree, legs dangling in the air as she sat upon a branch, enjoying yet another of the joint birthday gatherings; though this one was by far the largest. She could remember one of the wizard Gandalf's fireworks going off, though he had been nowhere near it at the time, and the blackened and shocked faces of two hobbits who were standing where a tent had once stood. Even from a distance she knew who they were, and the memory of their hair sticking out like they had been struck by lightning still made her laugh with glee.

The firework had been a magnificent dragon, so much like the real thing that the hobbits had ducked in fear, though as soon as it exploded into an array of brightly coloured sparks their faces lit up in joy once again. Ilaira's face had too lit up with joy, as she greatly enjoyed watching the wizards fireworks; she had met him but once, though that was many Ages ago, and she had wished she could speak to the wise wizard about the plight of her people many times. But it seemed he too had forgotten them, and so Ilaira stayed hidden within the branches of her oak.

It wasn't till much later in the evening that Ilaira stopped laughing.

It was during Bilbo's speech, when he paused to reach into his pocket and the party fell strangely silent that Ilaira's head tilted, her smile slipping off her face as the eerie quiet dragged on. She could not hear what Bilbo was saying, but when he suddenly disappeared, her brows furrowed and a frown was fixed upon her face, every muscle beginning to tense.

That night, a night that had so quickly turned from joyous merriment to confused panic, Ilaira recalled a strange feeling of familiar darkness, one that had returned with Bilbo from his adventures with the dwarves; a feeling so small, it was impossible to identify.

When she had first felt this familiar darkness Ilaira had resolved to keep an eye on Bilbo, and now that it was in this intensified state she had only the smallest inkling as to what it might be; but it was so impossible that she had immediately dispelled it from her mind. Evil such as that had never reached the Shire; she had been keeping watch all these long years, and it just wasn't possible.

That was 17 years ago, and Ilaira had noticed the darkness had not left with Bilbo on that night (for he was indeed still a visible Bilbo when he had returned to Bag End, promptly leaving after a talk with the wizard Gandalf, where for she did not know).

Gandalf had visited Frodo frequently for many years after that night, and every visit prompted more worry and doubt in Ilaira's mind that she had indeed been right; when the wizards visits stopped, she found that it did not ease her mind, and so she became even more vigilant.

She kept an eye on Frodo most of all, for the darkness, though small, still lingered within Bag End.

Ilaira had had little joy and rest during those long years, for dark thoughts were always creeping up from the recesses of her mind, like spiders crawling out of their dark caves to feast upon and consume the good and happy things in this world; so her dark thoughts began to consume her good ones, threatening to take hold. For she was alone, and without anyone with which to support her or to clear away the darkness.

The hobbits though, even if they did not know it, made her smile and laugh such as they had done this night, dispelling the darkness and giving her hope, for they were a light in this world that she would never allow to go out; they were something she was willing to fight for, no matter the cost.

The night was still clear and a chill had started to permeate the autumn air, the rustle of leaves as a breeze blew by sounding like the trees whispering their ancient secrets to each other, and this caused Ilaira to finally snap out of her musings. The hobbits were just leaving the inn, and so she stood and dusted off her clothes; they had not changed for thousands of years, but Ilaira did not mind (they were her favourite and most comfortable clothes after all, and she found it a great pain when they needed to be washed).

She waited until all the hobbits were out of sight, the night once again quiet and still but for the sound of singing crickets in the undergrowth, and she walked to the edge of the thatched roof before jumping down. As she fell, a few fallen leaves raised up on a small gust of wind to meet her feet, slowing her fall so that she landed softly, making no sound as the skirt of her dress gently billowed about her ankles.

She slowly made her way back towards Bag End, being careful not to be seen by any wayward hobbits on her journey.

When she arrived she found one Samwise Gamgee hiding in the bushes beneath one of the open windows. She could hear Frodo inside, talking to someone; the voice was old and gruff, and it could only belong to one man. Or rather, one wizard.

Ilaira's stomach dropped, and she immediately decided to join Sam in his eavesdropping. One moment she was there, the next she was gone; replaced by a small, yellow glowing orb, hovering in the air. She had transformed into a firefly, the only animal she could transform into, and she zipped over to the open window which Sam was hiding under, landing on the windowsill.

Her wings buzzed in agitation as she listened to the conversation between Frodo and the wizard; a very bedraggled and weary looking Gandalf was currently saying:

"In the common tongue it says: One Ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them. This is the One Ring."

Ilaira felt like her heart had stopped beating, but she followed them into the kitchen none the less, hoping beyond hopes that Gandalf was wrong; that she was wrong.

But the more Gandalf spoke of Sauron, of how Bilbo had found the ring on his adventures and brought it back with him to the Shire, the more everything made sense to Ilaira. Her suspicion all those years ago had never truly left her mind, eating away at the possibility the One Ring was still at large, and in the Shire no less! Yet she had continued to ignore it, preferring to stay in an ignorant state than face the cruel reality of it all; and she was a fool for doing so.

Now Frodo was about to leave the Shire, out of her reach where she could not protect him; but then again, she had failed miserably in that task, for his fate was now tied to that evil Ring and she had done nothing to prevent it.

She followed them back into the sitting room, where the bushes under the open window gave a sudden rustle, Frodo quickly laying on the ground under Gandalf's command.

Ilaira, still but a small firefly, smiled mentally, for it seemed that Sam had been caught; and Frodo would no longer be going on his journey alone.

That fact provided her with a little comfort, and when dawn came Ilaira followed the Hobbits on their journey through the Shire; she would follow them as far as her boundary would allow her to and make sure they were still safe whilst she could.

The afternoon sun shone down on the tall field of ripening corn which two hobbits and a nature spirit were currently walking through, though the nature spirit was walking hidden within the corn stalks, keeping an ever watchful eye out for any danger that may come.

Her footfalls were silent, and she moved between the corn so gracefully that not one stalk stirred or rustled in her path. Ilaira had seen no trouble as of yet, and had remained unspotted for the duration of the journey so far, but… for some reason she could not shake the feeling that someone or something was going-

There! To her left!

The corn was rustling as though someone were barrelling through it at a great pace, and Ilaira's head snapped towards the sound; whoever it was, they were heading straight for her.

She shifted into a firefly just in the nick of time, two hobbits racing through the corn where she had been standing mere moments beforehand; they would have slammed straight into her if she had hesitated in changing her form for even one second.

As it happened the two hobbits bumped into Sam and Frodo at full speed, both them and the vegetables the newcomers were carry toppling onto the ground in a messy heap. Ilaira, now a firefly perched on the leaf of a stalk of corn, could see the scythe of one Farmer Maggot waving above the corn field and heading this way, accompanied by the barking of a very ferocious sounding dog; the vegetables and fleeing hobbits now made perfect sense to her.

She looked over to see all the hobbits now standing, Sam holding an armful full of vegetables whilst one Peregrin Took dove into the field of corn on the opposite side of the path, and a certain Meriadoc Brandybuck pulling Frodo along with him as he followed his partner in crime.

If fireflies could smile Ilaira would be doing so right now; she would expect no other culprits but those two troublemaking hobbits.

She took pity on poor Sam, who suddenly found he looked rather guilty with an armful of stolen veg and thus had only just started to run in the opposite direction of one angry farmer, and she decided to distract their chaser, if only for a short while.

When Farmer Maggot arrived on the scene she raced around his head, a small glowing blur of buzzing annoyance, stopping him in his tracks, his hand flying up to try and swat her away from his face. He even began to spin in circles, scythe swinging precariously close to the tops of the corn, and he would have chopped them off if he had swung any lower. To save him from losing yet more of his crops, Ilaira sped away, back over the fields in the direction she had come, and leaving behind a disorientated Farmer Maggot, who attempted to continue his pursue of the hobbits anyway.

Ilaira landed on a scarecrows arm, transforming into herself again as she watched the hobbits race towards the edge of the field. She could go no further, for it was also the edge of her boundary from her Soul Tree, and so instead she sat and watched the corn rustling in the distance; one area of rustling corn was much larger than the other, and Ilaira could see she had managed to redirect Farmer Maggots path so that he was going away from the hobbits on a slight tangent.

Three black crows were also perched on the scarecrow, and the one she had landed next to squawked in surprise and indignation at her sudden appearance. Ilaira ignored the bird, her legs swinging as she thought about how it was very likely Pippin and Merry would now be joining Frodo and Sam on their journey to Bree; she wasn't entirely sure if that comforted her or not.

"Good luck, young hobbits. Please come back unharmed." Ilaira said, the rustling of the corn now the faintest of sounds in the distance.

The crow next to her squawked once again, its wings flapping briefly as it looked at Ilaira with intelligent eyes. This time, she replied:

"You'd worry too if you knew what burden they carried." She scolded the bird lightly. The crow on top of the scarecrows head then hopped as it cawed at her in reply, its midnight black feathers glistening in the sunlight.

Ilaira sighed, lowering her face as she said, "You're right. I must have faith in them. One thing I've learnt whilst living in the Shire is the surprising hardiness and raw resilience of hobbits." She raised her head and smiled brightly at the crows, who ruffled their feathers proudly at having improved the spirits mood.

But the third crow, the one that had been perched on the scarecrows other arm, now took off across the field with a menacing caw, its feathers dulled by the now darkening sky, black clouds rolling in from beyond the field and shielding the earth from the suns warm rays. The corn seemed to sag and wilt in the sudden darkness. A chilling breeze blew across the fields, causing Ilaira's hair to fly into her face from behind. The two remaining crows suddenly took off with panicked caws, heading in the opposite direction to the third crow, their heavy wingbeats fading as they flew back the way Ilaira had come.

She suddenly felt very alone.

A sense of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach and refused to leave. She would restart her patrols round her Soul Tree's boundary, just as she had done when she'd first arrived in the Shire; vigilance was no longer enough, she had to be constantly moving around and physically guarding the borders and hobbits within, not just keeping a watchful eye out.

Ilaira's worries increased every day, and she was constantly patrolling the Shire whilst still making sure the hobbits did not notice her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to go unseen, as the hobbits themselves were anxious and jumpy, whispering about riders cloaked in black, the only two words one had said in a bone chilling voice being "Shire… Baggins".

'What have those Baggins's gotten themselves into this time?' They would mutter secretively, even though there were no Baggins's in the Shire to hear them speculate or to dismiss them. The hobbits would then proceed to look about them furtively, and of course there were those hobbits who did not believe such rumours and would just laugh at the others antics.

Yet these non-believers would still be wary of any strangers and of long shadows in the night.

Ilaira's feeling of dread increased at the description of these black riders, and there were several nights in which it increased even more so.

On one of these nights she had felt a great stabbing pain in her chest, so sharp and sudden that she was forced to her knees, one hand clutching her chest whilst the other supported her weight as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing again. Eventually it passed, but Ilaira was left with a strange feeling of emptiness, as though she had lost something of great importance to her.

She had not slept for about a month.

Not that spirits needed all that much sleep when they were close to their Soul Origin, but the lack of it meant Ilaira had far too much time to think in the dark and lonely hours of the night.

And tonight was no exception.

Ilaira sat in the branches of her oak tree, searching the shining stars above for the answers she so desperately sought:

Where were the Hobbits now? Were they safe? Had they been caught or-Valar forbid it- been killed by the Black Riders?

Ilaira would give anything to know the answers to these questions, to be by the hobbits sides and to be helping them on their journey. But instead she was stuck here, bound by her Soul Tree and feeling totally useless.

'If only I knew whether they were safe… or whether Gandalf had indeed returned to them… then my anxiety would be subdued, if only by a little bit…' Ilaira thought as a light autumn breeze blew by, carrying leaves the colour of a roaring fire with it; every shade of red, orange and yellow. Just looking at the leaves made Ilaira feel more at ease, their warm colours dispelling the chill from her own heart.

"Ilaira."

The soft call almost made Ilaira jump out of her own skin as she spun towards the voice, and she found it had come from a woman standing just below her branch. Ilaira couldn't believe her eyes when she saw who it was and immediately jumped down to the ground, landing just in front of the woman; Ilaira could feel the waves of primordial power coming off of her, even from such a height.

"Lady Yavanna!" Ilaira cried in shock, quickly descending to one knee and bowing her head, "What brings you to Middle Earth?"

For the woman was Yavanna, one of the great Valar and creator of the spirits of the forests. She appeared now to be the height of the average Man, so as to be a little less conspicuous; she was usually as tall as a cypress tree, rather noticeable among the short hobbits. She was robed in a green so rich it seemed to speak of ancient woodlands which had once covered all the land, their roots deep in the brown earth and their great boughs reaching for the clouds, growing as tall as any mountain. She shone with a golden dew, faintly lighting the immediate area around her like the morning sun cresting over a hill at dawn. Her flawless skin was the colour of tilled earth after fresh rainfall, and her hair was so dark it verged on black, like the glistening feathers of a midnight raven. It was somehow both a tangled mess and perfectly curled at the same time, for within her hair were many sprigs of beautiful blossoms and green leaves, so perfectly intertwined in the rivulets that they seemed to grow out of the hair itself. Her eyes shone with a kindness and gentleness that no other being could have shone with; for Yavanna had created all living creatures and plants, and she cared for all of her creations deeply. Those eyes which were as green and as full of life as a sprouting sapling were now focused on Ilaira, who was still greatly shocked by the Valar's presence.

"You are concerned about the safety of the hobbits, are you not?" Yavanna said, her voice like the gentle rustling of leaves; quiet, yet easily heard.

"Well, yes, my Lady, but there is nothing I can do about that. And I'm afraid I am unsure of how that answered my question." Ilaira said, head still bowed.

"Because I wish to help you, my dear Ilaira." Yavanna replied, hands folded in front of her.

"I… I am honoured. Truly my lady I am but… How? And why?"

"You are such a brave spirit, Ilaira, and you are pure of heart. You can do much good on this quest; for that is what it will become, as the hobbits journeys are far from over, as I think you must suspect." Ilaira knew that what Yavanna said was true; Frodo's burden would not leave him so soon, nor so easily, and the road ahead looked long. "And my dear, I do not wish to see you suffer any longer."

At this Ilaira raised her head, a smile on her face as she said, "I thank you for your concern, Lady Yavanna, but I can handle my anxieties over the hobbits. I am sure they are alright-"

"Ilaira," Yavanna interrupted, "We both know you have been suffering for far longer than just this past month." She had a look of great sadness and empathy on her elegant face, seeing through Ilaira's light hearted façade, and she paused before saying with a small smile, "It is time Middle Earth relearned of the existence of the race of Nature Spirits, don't you think? You should not have to be alone any longer."

Ilaira was elated to say the least. In her excitement she explained this to Yavanna:

"For years now... For years I have wished for nothing more than the chance to see the spirits return, my Lady. To see my people once again walk this land... free and untroubled. But if I can aid them in this way… And go to the hobbits sides to help protect them on their journey… Well I find that is my wish now."

"And that is why I am here." Yavanna said, inclining her head to the spirit, "Now we come to the how. I can give you the freedom you need to go on this journey; I can release you from the confines of your Soul Tree." She placed her hand upon the mighty oaks bark as she spoke, "But you must be certain Ilaira. Is protecting these Hobbits really your one true wish?"

"Yes, my Lady. I am certain." Ilaira said, her eyes shining with determination as she looked up at the Valar.

"You understand that there must be indisputable conditions for your freedom, dear Ilaira?"

But Ilaira just smiled, saying, "It is as I said, my Lady. I would give up any wish or even hope of seeing my people return if it meant I could be by the hobbits sides to protect them wherever they go. I would gladly give my life for them."

"Very well," Yavanna said, and she had a glint of pride in her eyes, "I can see that your compassion will keep both your will and your soul strong on this journey. These are my conditions."

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. This is my second ever fic, and this is a much larger fandom than the last with many more stories out there, so thank you for deciding to read mine. Reviews are greatly encouraged, with good or bad criticism, as otherwise there would be no way for me to know what it is you liked, what you didn't, and what you think I can improve upon. So:

PLEASE REVIEW!

Thank you again for reading, and hopefully I'll see some of you in the next chapter!

-Limegreenarcher