It took longer than I had expected to hike downhill towards the elvish city bellow. I could barely keep my feet from giving way under me – even with the help of Bofur and Bombur.

"Hang on lass, almost there." Bofur smiled consolingly in my direction as I staggered on my feet and inhaled sharply. The wound on my chest was exposed to the air, stinging as the cool breeze washed over the open gouges. I could feel the blood soaking past the waistline of my shorts, and It made me feel sick to think about it.

I looked up as we stepped onto a narrow bridge and Bombur moved to stand behind me – seeing as the pathway was not wide enough to fit the three of us – and left Bofur to solely support me. I gripped his sleeve urgently as a fresh tickle of blood oozed from the gash. I was drowsy with exhaustion and my head ached with a serious lack of water. I was running on empty with nothing to help my magic heal my body.

We passed between two statues of magnificent elves in grand armor – long hair spilling down their shoulders – as they stood guard in their stone state. The blue sky tinged with yellow as the sun began its slow decent from its prime place in the sky. The world wheeled around me as we stepped off the bridge and into a circular courtyard. White flagstones covered the ground and a wide staircase stretched upward before us. There were elf guards at the entrance, looking at us.

Gandalf turned to quickly count us internally – making sure none had wandered off – and his eyes passed worriedly over me.

"Mithrandir." I looked up as a male voice rang out like a tolling bell, and my eyes met those of an elf. The elf wore soft violet robes with long brown hair spilling about his shoulders – a silver circlet atop his head – and his brown eyes held an emotion that I could not place. It seemed to be a kind of mix between joy and irritation.

"Ah, Lindir." Gandalf spoke to the elf as he descended the stairs and stepped onto the flagstone floor. Lindir – as Gandalf called him – welcomed us with a wave of his hand, and I spotted the telltale sign pointed ears, peeking out of the curtain of silky brown hair. The way this elf looked at Gandalf made me think he was not to fond of him, and that worried me.

Lindir opened his mouth and spoke in Elvish tongue. "Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen." This translated to 'we heard you crossed into the valley'. I recognized the tongue when I heard it, but my pronunciation was far from acceptable.

"I must speak with Lord Elrond." Gandalf said in the common tongue and Bofur pushed me further up on my feet. I was unaware of how weak I truly was until Bofur started to whisper encouragements to me. It sounded so distant, like my head was under water.

"My lord Elrond is not here." Lindir said simply, and Gandalf's bushy brows furrowed together as he looked briefly back at me. He was worried for my health, which worried me further. Would this elf really ignore our dire need for shelter?

"Not here?" Gandalf echoed, "Where is he?" Lindir did not speak, but I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of a horn.

The sound of the Horn was familiar, long, and shrill almost. I turned my head quickly over my shoulder, seeing distant horses approaching. I started and pulled back into the others, Bofur pushing Bilbo, and I to the middle of a protection circle – whilst supporting me.

"Ifridi bekar!" Thorin shouted in his native language, "Close ranks!" everyone tightened around us. I felt claustrophobic in the tight space, as the horses charged past us. I watched as the horses began to circle us – black, brown, and white pelts blending into one another as my vision doubled, and I watched the elves astride the horses as closely as I could. They were mostly dark haired, with green to umber colored eyes.

I stared; listening to the Dwarves who were growling in warning to the elves – all of which were every close, too close –. The circular motion stopped, and we were surrounded by elves and their steeds. I withered under the condescending stares and thoughts that besmirched our very image behind their eyes.

"Gandalf." An Elf astride a black horse greeted. He wore golden armor, woven across his chest and a circlet atop his chestnut hair.

"Lord Elrond." Gandalf smiled. "Mellon nin." Gandalf bowed, and looked up at the Elf again. "Mo evinedh?" Gandalf asked. 'My friend, where have you been?' I translated in my own head – not having enough energy to speak it aloud – and I let my eyes flutter drowsily.

"Farannem 'lamhoth i udul o charad." Elrond replied. "Dangannem rim na lant Vedui." Elrond stepped down from his horse and embraced Gandalf. 'we've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the south. We slew a number near the hidden pass'.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our boarders. Something or someone has drawn them near." Elrond said examining the sword he held in his hands; a crude orcish blade.

"Ah, that may have been us." Gandalf said apologetically, motioning to us. Thorin stepped forward – wordlessly introducing himself as leader of the company – looking up at the elf called Elrond with something almost resentful in his eyes; masked by his stoic expression.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain." Elrond greeted elegantly – words falling fluidly off his tongue – as he looked down courteously as the dwarf king.

"I do not believe we have met." Thorin said simply, looking the elf up and down with a degrading sort of stare.

"You have your Grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain." Elrond explained and Thorin narrowed his eyes.

"Indeed? He made no mention of you." Thorin said curtly. A moment of silence followed, and I began to quiver on my feet. Bilbo examined my face worriedly and he exchanged worried looks with Bother and the rest of the company.

Elrond looked down at Thorin, looking like he was sure of something. "Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin." Elrond said, and Gloin pushed past Bofur, gripping his axe.

"What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?!" Gloin growled. The others shouted around me. I had picked up a few of the words in the sentence.

"No master Gloin, he is offering you food." Gandalf said, and they fell silent. Turning into the circle they conversed quickly before Thorin nodded.

"Ah, well in that case, lead on." Gloin said.

I went limp in Bofur's arms, my body losing control of itself with nothing left to fuel me. I lost control of my senses one by one as Bofur tried to steady me. My head swam and my vision blurred. Hearing and sense of direction followed immediately after, and my knees buckled.

My head lulled back, and my eyes rolled in their sockets. I felt firm, but smooth hands grab me and lift me into the air. I was jostled about as the one who carried me ascended the stairs, and the sound of footfalls and worried exclamations followed, along with Gandalf assuring the others that I would be well taken care of...