Edge of the Wild (Tag: Bilbo + Open--PM First!)

[hades]

Dark rain clouds drifted overhead, and poured over the tops of the Misty Mountains. It looked bleak from where the elf and her feathery companion were sitting in a tree gazing out between the branches at the storm brewing over the mountains. Turning her head she looked to one side and saw the sky was cloudless, it made her smile. When she turned back to the mountains she was going to have to cross to reach Rohan. It was time for her annual visit to her ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’. Her feathered friend, one Dénor by name, had grown excited as the time neared. He was more cooperative than usual, which Ginger was thankful for, and more enthusiastic about going places. “Well, it doesn’t look like it has broken yet.” Ginger said, though the sound of thunder was echoing softly over the fields that lay between her and her chosen path. “Perhaps we can find an uninhabited cave when it does.” Dénor hooted softly and gazed at her with his large orange eyes.

Once you got past the sheer size of the owl, he was the sweetest more egotistical bird you would ever meet any day of the week. Though to smaller races he would be intimidating, perhaps even a bit scary and unpredictable! This put a smile on Ginger’s face as she climbed down from her perch, landing on the ground with a soft thump. Collecting her pans and other traveling things, she loaded them into her leather pack and slung it onto her back. Her quiver and arrows were latched onto her traveling pack, hunting bow in her right hand, she started out as the sun started to rise from morning to noon.

It may have been a strange sight to see the she-elf walking across the fields, but she took the quickest route she knew. This would take her only just close to Rivendell. Ginger didn’t like having too many encounters with other Elves, they were too curious about her past; a past she didn’t remember and she didn’t want their pity! She was perfectly fine on her own with her owl as a silent companion, there were things she would tell Dénor that she wouldn’t tell anyone else. Love wasn’t one of the subjects because Ginger didn’t often think about it, in fact she never thought about it. Her feelings on that subject were concealed and if it had ever happened Ginger didn’t remember. With no one to hinder her, Ginger used her long legs to travel quickly and lightly over the brown and green fields.

One day later Ginger had finally come to the roots of the mountains. Nothing had changed overnight. The dark clouds rolled over like boiling water in a pot, and the thunder still came softly, though a little louder, from inside the mountains. Sighing she packed her things just as the day before and proceeded along the safest route she knew.

Darkness surrounded her, the only light was that coming from the lighting and the sun that shown dimly from the clouds. The elf had taken her time this time. Stopping for lunch, and then stopping to feed Dénor the rain began fall gently. A flash of lightning destroyed it, though, and the rain came down in waterfalls! Soaked to the bone, and with Dénor now seated behind her on the pack, she proceeded to make her way through the familiar mountain path.

Not generally spooked, at least when his master was close by, Dénor remained seated on the pack that his master was carrying. It wasn’t until the rain got so bad that she sent him ahead to scout for an empty cave. The large bird found it difficult to navigate the rain, but he managed to find a nice little uninhabited cave large enough to support at least a dozen of his own species and more. Quietly he sat watch for his master to stumble upon it. Shaking himself quite liberally he groomed himself sitting far back in the darkness.

It seemed like hours, and Dénor had fallen asleep quickly after a liberal grooming of his feathers. There was noise outside the cave, though he assumed it was his master and didn’t open his eyes and didn’t until the sound of more than one pair of feet entered the cave. His orange eyes spotted the two, each his own size from the look of them, yet they were not owls. One had large bare feet and was limping, the other had funny looking facial hair, but he looked like the gentle sort. Dénor didn’t take to people quickly but he couldn’t help feeling that the funny-bearded-little-man-thing was older than he looked. Blinking, he found himself taking a liking to him, his voice was gentle as he spoke to his big footed friend and the big footed friend spoke back. Their conversation he didn’t understand, but it wasn’t long before the big footed one fell asleep and the older bearded-little-man-thing was standing, he guessed, first watch.

Drenched, alone, tired, upset and tripping over her own feet, Ginger made her way through the rain. “OH!

[/b]” She cried as she felt, taking hold of a branch trying to steady herself. It crackled under her weight and a few short seconds later snapped off completely! “OOF! Ouch… blasted rocks…” She mumbled to herself as her hands scraped the stone, causing them to bleed. Getting up she examined what she could and hoped the cuts weren’t too deep. “Show yourself!” Ginger let out a startled cry at the sudden voice, “Show yourself, and we might just avoid any unnecessary trouble, eh?” Nodding to herself she moved away from where she was only to stumble on the slick path and fall again. Pain shot through her left hand as she cut it on a much sharper rock.

“Alright, just don’t… hurt me too terribly!” She called back, making her way towards where she thought the voice was coming from, cradling her hand. A cave… that stupid bird had found a cave and didn’t think to come looking for her to lead her there! How infuriating. Entering it, her hair soaked and sticking her face she looked around for whoever had spoken. It wasn’t until she looked down and saw the Dwarf did she know that it was he who had spoken to her, and all she could do was stare at him, her hand bleeding. She was a mess, and she knew she must have looked it. Another thing about Ginger, were her Elven ears poking ever so slightly through her plastered hair. Speechless, she waited for him to speak first…

ooc; long... lol. Here ya'll are! I hope you like. <3
[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[pumpkin]

ooc: Loved it! xD Let's get them bickering, too! xD

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“Alright, just don’t… hurt me too terribly!” The words were only just barely audible over the sound of the rain, and a moment later, the speaker came into the light of the small cave fire. Balin's eyes widened.

A thousand and a half pale orcs, if it wasn't an elf standing before him. A female, by the look of things. Injured. She seemed to have cut herself quite badly, one hand, red with blood, cradled tenderly in the other.

Balin lowered his weapon only just; he couldn't begin to imagine why such an elf would be on her own like this in the mountains. The old dwarf thought instantly that she must have followed them from Rivendell, perhaps as some sort of envoy to halt the party in the middle of their quest. It was certainly possible that someone in that confounded place had changed his mind about allowing the dwarf company passage. Though, taking the woman in carefully, she did not appear to be dressed in the same manner as the Rivendell elves, which made things all the more curious. A number of questions were going through Balin's mind at the sight of the young-faced elf, in fact, but any number of them might have been true or absolutely ridiculous concoctions of his tired brain. This just...hadn't been expected. Somehow goblins or orcs might have been easier.

By the looks of things, though, the she-elf seemed to want about as much trouble as he did. She was clearly hurt, and she was likely cold and sick from all the rain. It wouldn't be right to bring her inside and take care of her, given what needed to be done for the quest come dawn and that the very idea itself went against everything Balin knew Thorin and the company felt about elves, but nor would it be okay to send her away in this mess. He found himself struggling with some sort of inner turmoil trying to decide what would be best to do.

The old dwarf hesitated for a moment more, studying the girl closely. He really was at odds here.

"All right, all right," he said finally, his voice a grumble now. He was as coarse as any other dwarf, but he wasn't heartless. The elf woman clearly needed a place out of the rain--a dry one to tend to her injuries. He would just have to be an ounce warier than usual.

Balin moved back into the cave slowly, keeping one wary eye on the new arrival. "You can stay here on an unfortunately large number of conditions, whoever you might be. Starting with the weapons." He gestured to the bow and quiver the she-elf was carrying. He imagined she would have other arms on hand, too--some elves even had magical abilities--but he was planning to take this step by step. Nor was he going to observe any real pleasantries. There was something awfully odd at work here. "You are alone?"