A/N: This is a prologue to the fanfiction I may or may not be posting. It depends on how well the idea pans out. Until then it shall remain a small one shot. Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit. Nor do I own the characters in the story.

Word Count: 1,699

lirimaer: Lovely one (Elven)

It was dark. Dark and cold. Her heart pounded in her throat as she raced through the forest. Her legs burned as she ran and her breath came out in ragged breaths. She could hear the warg coming after her. Snarling, growling, closing in pushed herself to run faster. Slipping under tree branches and tripping over rocks. She cried out as he foot caught on a root, her ankle twisted and she fell into the snow.

Her chest pounded and heaved, her body weakly curled itself into a ball as she tried her best to hide under a low bush. She held her breath as the great beast stopped and sniffed the air growling as it caught her scent and made its way towards her. She kept herself from screaming in pain as the warg bit down on her ankle further snapping the bone. She screamed and cried as it dragged her out choking on her sobs.

Tears filled her eyes as it bit down again, breaking the skin, red liquid pooling onto the pale snow. She choked on a sob as it pulled and tugged. Her vision blurred her heart beat rapidly in her chest from the adrenaline, when she saw a flash of silver.

The warg let go of her ankle and growled before it howled in agony and slumped to the ground, an arrow sticking out of its back having pierced its heart perfectly. She moved as far from it as she could hissing as the pain in her ankle flared. She blinked trying to focus as someone knelt before her. She whimpered as a cool hand was placed against her cheek.

A light voice soothed. "Nothing's going to harm you."

She felt cool glass against her mouth.

"I need you to drink this. You'll feel much better," the soft voice said.

She felt her mouth open on its own accord and warm honey liquid slide down her throat. She licked her lips. Coughs racked her body and she curled up in pain. The soothing voice of her savior was the last thing she heard before slipping into blackness.

"Have you gone mad?" A voice seethed. "Bringing a mortal child into the elven realm?"

"I could not just leave her to die," the other replied.

"If you hadn't gone Warg hunting, you would have not found her in the first place," the first stated.

"But I had and I did," the other replied matter of factly.

She shifted on the bed opening her eyes and turning her head. She saw two men speaking in some sort of language she couldn't understand. The first, who seemed angry, was tall with golden blonde hair and clear blue eyes.

The second was a bit shorter with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. Both had some sort of elegance surrounding them.

The first was standing straight and rigid while the other sat down closer to the bed swirling a glass of wine.

The brown haired one shook his head and looked towards the bed seeing she was awake. Her eyes widened and she backed away as much as she could, falling to the floor in the haste and backed away until her back hit the wall. She drew her knees to her chest and tucked her face into her arms.

"Poor dear, scared out her wits," the second spoke softly before approaching.

He knelt down before her and she peeked out at him. "Do not worry, I won't hurt you," he told her softly. "My name is Elrond."

"A...are you…a...an Elf?" she asked timidly.

"I am a half elf," he answered. "What is your name lirimaer?"

"Saoirse ," she answered her body relaxing more. "I...i...is h...he a h…half elf to...too?" Pointing a hesitant hand towards the other man.

"Whom? Lord Thranduil? He is full elf," Elrond smiled a little.

"Are you tired?" He asked.

"Y…yes," she nodded.

Elrond held out his hands and she hesitated before taking his and allowing him to lift her gently into his arms.

"How old are you Saoirse?" He asked.

"I...I just...t…turned s...seven," she answered. "T...today was m...my birthday."

"It's alright," he soothed. "There's no need to be afraid here." He laid her on the bed and tucked the covers in around her. "You just rest."

"W...will you be h...here when I w...wake?" she asked as her eyes already began to close.

"I shall," he answered.

She seemed satisfied with the answer and curled up in a tiny ball before drifting into a deep sleep.

"Elrond. You know she cannot remain here in Mirkwood," Thranduil said as he poured them wine. "She is a mortal."

Elrond made a dismissive motion with his hand. "I'm not so sure Thranduil. You know that as well as I do."

"You are just lying to yourself," Thranduil replied sitting across from him. "She is mortal."

Elrond took one of the cups and swirled the liquid in the cup. "She's an orphan."

"You cannot know that," the older elf said.

"We followed the wargs to a death town. Everyone dead. Of the plague I presume," Elrond told him.

"Perhaps she's from somewhere else. Have you sent out-"

"Scouts? Of course," Elrond interrupted. "Two have already returned with nothing."

Both elves looked towards the door as the healer entered the chamber. His face neutral but still nervous. He approached the table and set his things on the table.

"Well?" Elrond asked concerned.

"She is better m'lords. I've given her something to make her sleep so her wounds can heal but-"

"But what?" Elrond interrupted.

Thranduil sent him a look. "Let the healer finish."

The healer hesitated before he began to speak. "She is...not mortal m'lords. She seems to be a hybrid of sorts. There is gypsy blood in her veins and..." the healer hesitated again. "Fire Drake blood."

"How could tell all of this?" Thranduil asked.

"It is a healer's gift m'lords," the healer answered. "I am worried though. This is something I am not aware of. Hybrids of this type are very rarely conceived. For a dragon to be able to mate with a mortal is not unheard of but it is difficult."

"How so?" Elrond asked.

"Dragon's take the form a mortal man and they are very weak in that state. They cannot survive for long in that form. And for it to mate with a gypsy who could possibly would kill the dragon."

"But it is possible for something like this to happen?" Elrond asked.

"At a cost, but yes. It is possible," the healer nodded.

"What would happen if word was to get out of this hybrid?" Thranduil asked.

"They would abuse her power and her pain is greater than others. The tiniest scratch to you would seem like a faint stab to her. She is like porcelain. If someone were to abuse her, she would grow weak and I can't say what would happen then."

"What do you suppose we do?"

"Alert the high council," the healer answered. "That's the best I can do."

Elrond nodded. "Thank you."

The healer bowed before leaving. The two elves sat in silence, contemplating what to do next.

Thranduil sighed. "I shall alert the high council at once."

"Now? She's barely a child," Elrond objected. "We could wait a few years."

"Wait? This girl is in danger; we are in danger if someone catches wind that she is here and of what she is. How do you suppose we handle this? Give her a charm to keep everything at bay," Thranduil spoke harshly not liking to be questioned. "Alerting the high council is the best thing we can do for her. She can go with them where they are better equipped for this type of thing."

"There is a chance that what the healer said is true."

"A few years Thranduil. It won't hurt anyone. That is all I ask of you," Elrond pleaded. "Just a few years."

Thranduil turned away; he couldn't bear the look on his companions face. "She is no replacement for the child you have lost Elrond."

"I know that, but we could be what she needs," he replied stiffly.

Thranduil scoffed. "Her parents?"

"Guardians Thranduil. We can give her some sort of mark to keep whatever abilities may stem from this. For a few years at least. And while we do that, we can teach her how to handle these things," Elrond replied. "She is still little; we can mold her how we wish."

Thranduil shook his head. "It isn't possible. I am sorry, but I will be alerting the council in one weeks time."

"If that is what you feel is best," Elrond replied with a curt cold nod.

"I do," Thranduil said.

Elrond turned on his heels and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Elrond sat in a chair by the fireplace and massaged his temples. Thranduil could be too much sometimes. He was quick tempered, aggravating, and got on Elrond's nerves to no extant. He sighed.

"He does however have a point," he mused aloud.

He looked towards the bed where Saoirse lay curled in the blankets. It was hard to picture so many evil things in such a young girl. Barley ten years of age and she already had too much weight on her shoulders.

He got up and moved to sit on the side of the bed gently. He reached out and ran a hand down her cheek. She was warm to the touch. She had been warm when he found her in the snow. He pulled his hand back as she stirred and rolled over.

He smiled a little and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"Sweet dreams lirimaer," he whispered before getting up and leaving the room.