Hello and welcome to my first ever fan fic. I hope you enjoy it!

I will post some brief author's notes at the beginning of each chapter, don't feel obliged to read my ramblings though! If you stop by, please leave a review, any comments gratefully received!

Obviously, I can only bask in the brilliance of JRR Tolkein and Peter Jackson, who own the rights to the Hobbit. I own nothing except Freya, my OC

If you do decide to read this, much love to you

~ G

Prologue

As the sounds of the evening's revelry in the Inn reached a crescendo, the dark haired girl in at the table in the corner continued to nurse her drink. Completely alone she stared at her hands, wondering what her next move would be. It was a village like any other in middle earth and being close to the Greenwood was full of farmers, hunters and folk who looked suspiciously like poachers.

Freya had sat apart from the rest of the patrons trying not to attract attention to herself. But as a lone girl on the cusp of her womanhood, she wasn't having much luck. The innkeepers wife was giving her the evil eye and kept asking her what business brought her to the village and though Freya was determined to remain silent on that subject she knew it was obvious she was a runaway.

It was unseemly for a woman to be in a tavern alone, but Freya had felt drained, she needed to rest and gather her thoughts before she moved on. She had tried to conceal the fact that she was alone by placing a stick and her bag on the chair opposite her and by ordering two drinks. She had scraped together little enough coin, but she figured the peace and quiet was probably worth it.

She knew her looks and youth were drawing attention from the male patrons; and uncomfortably, from the innkeeper as well. Freya allowed her straight dark brown hair hide her face. She had been told her grey eyes with their flecks of blue and dark hair made her comely, though her mother often complained that she would not make more of herself. She had taken great pains to put her in uncomfortable dresses and high shoes, braiding her hair to show off her slender neck. This seemed important to her mother, as she told Freya that as fetching as her looks made her, she was a little short for one of the race of men at 5"3' and a little on the skinny side. Frankly Freya saw good looks and dressing up to attract a man as a hinderance, usually preferring to keep her long hair down to give her something to hide behind from the attentions of men, as she was attempting to do now. The dresses she could tolerate at a push, but when alone or at home she preferred breeches and a tunic. She had not packed any dresses when she had fled.

A patron from a rowdy group of what looked like poachers got up and made his way over to her, swaying slightly amid the jeers of his companions.

"This seat taken love?" he said dumping her bag unceremoniously on the floor and slouching in the chair.

"Actually yes, it is, I am waiting for my companion." Freya replied, cupping her drink without looking him in the eye though her perceptive gaze had briefly flicked over him when he had picked up her bag. She could tell his carelessly wavy blonde hair and broad shoulders would have made her sister practically drool once upon a time, but that thought just left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Well then" he replied unperturbed "I promise I won't intrude long. I can be very fast if you prefer petal". he moved his chair closer to her while she continued to ignore him "Though the quicker I am the less there is in it for you if you know what I mean?" he cooed in what must have been his most seductive tone. It had probably worked on bar wenches before and his voice had a husky quality that Freya was sure other women would go positively giddy over. Freya, however was starting to get irritated with the stranger.

"No thank you, I really am just waiting for someone". He smiled sensing a challenge

"But where are my manners. The name is Jack, son of Walt". Freya was starting to get the impression that her indifference was not the deterrent she was hoping it would be and that he wasn't going to give up soon. Freya was not that sort of girl, even if she was a runaway and currently sat alone in a tavern. She was a fortnight away from twenty-one where she would come of age, but she had come from a respectable family and she was frankly appalled by the insinuation that a woman alone must be in want of a man to share her bed.

Freya suddenly recalled how tired she was, emotionally from the fight with her parents the night before and her eventual decision to leave them all before daybreak, and physically from her long flight from their home. This was bad.

Lately, when Freya got tired and angry strange things happened. That was one of the things that had made her family decide to force her into a respectable marriage before the strangeness around her could be discovered. Better to have her safely married off into a respectable family; that way if the bizarreness surrounding her was discovered, it would not be their problem, but her unwitting husband's.

Freya however was not just running away because of an altruistic drive to not be a burden on any husband. Her parents had a good idea of who she would be palmed off onto; Tamlin was a nice respectable older son of a wealthy merchant family, whose father happened to be chair of the guild her father desperately wanted into. He was decent, but morally upright and therefore may not protect her the way her family had when he did find out about her 'abnormality', as her mother had taken to calling it.

Freya didn't fancy being rejected by her family and would be husband and lynched for 'witchcraft' into the bargain, so she had taken matters into her own hands and fled before those outside her family had discovered her. Besides, her 'abnormality' made her feel special; different and strong but also vulnerable in a strange sense.

She could feel the air about her prickling as she turned irately to Jack and opened her mouth to tell him to get lost, but her scathing retort never left her mouth.

"Ah! there you are my dear! I am so sorry for keeping you! You must have thought I had forgotten all about you." said a deep voice, as a grey robe and long grey beard came into view. Freya looked up at the owner of the voice puzzled "Oh I see you ordered me a drink, that was thoughtful of you Freya my dear." he continued as Freya stared dumbfounded, unable to fathom who this strange elderly man was and how he knew her name. "young man, I think you will find that is my seat" he concluded. Jack shot a scathing look at the man, but acknowledging defeat he got up and turned to leave while the elderly man took his seat and started to drink the thus far untouched ale.

Finally finding her voice, Freya blinked rapidly and addressed the man in a quiet voice.

"Thank you for your timely intervention sir, it seems you know me but I am afraid I do not know you". The man smiled revealing straight white teeth underneath his beard

"You may call be Gandalf, and I am pleased to have found you, Freya".

"I will not go back to be sold into marriage like some brood mare" she whispered angrily "If they want a daughter to get them into the guild by marriage so badly then why not allow Arana to marry Tamlin instead. They like each, other forcing me to do it because… because I am older and unwed is… cruel".

She pushed her seat back and started to rise thinking she would leave now that the conversation was done and the message would get back to her family once and for all, but stopped as Gandalf firmly but gently held her wrist to stop her leaving. He whispered to her in low, urgent tones.

"I have not come to bring you back to your family Freya, I have come to help. You have started experiencing strange things am I right? Visions, dreams. When you are tired and angry objects breaking, or moving? Perhaps even stranger than that? This is normal for a 20 year old, when the Gift starts to manifest". He stated, nodding slightly as though confirming something to himself and releasing her wrist. What he did not state was that this was normal for a 20 year old elf or half-elven. Though this still was rare and it was unheard of for one from the race of men to be blessed by the Valar with magic, but he had his own theories about that.

"I have no idea what you are talking about" she whispered trying but not entirely succeeding to keep the fear our of her voice and the tears out of her eyes.

"Oh, well then, if you have no wish to discuss it then we can sit and simply make small talk over our ale… if you can call it that, I don't find this variety agreeable, perhaps I will order us some wine instead". Freya could not help but smile slightly as he turned to the innkeepers wife and made good on his offer then turned to Freya with a warm and somewhat grandfatherly smile.

Freya was so taken aback by this abrupt turn in conversation that she chuckled and looked him over properly. Gandalf had a tall blue pointed hat, which he was now removing and placing on the table. Now visible under the hat she could see a pair of long bushy eyebrows and kindly pale blue eyes. His grey robe reached the ground and he had a grey scarf tied about him. In addition to his long grey beard, he had long grey hair, which he now ran a hand through. He carried a long staff and had an air of mystery and authority about him.

"Thank you" Freya said to the innkeepers wife as she brought the drinks over, her manners earned a simple "humph" from the older woman. She turned back to Gandalf who shared an amuse sigh with Freya. "Nothing like service with a smile is there" she confided in the old man earning a chuckle and a warm smile. She smiled back, warming to the strange man.

Gandalf produced a pipe and turned so that only Freya could see him light it with a flame he produced on his fingertips without flint or any other materials. Freya's eyes widened as he did so. It was a small display but it demonstrated a lot. It showed her he had not guessed at her situation; rather he knew that she was starting to feel the magic inside her, and his demonstration, though small showed that he had it too.

She sighed as Gandalf took a pull on his pipe contemplatively. It had been a matter of seconds; he hadn't pushed, or pressured her, hadn't pursued a conversation she was not ready to have yet. He had shown her he understood by that one simple gesture. She didn't know why, but Freya had a feeling she could trust Gandalf, she didn't know where this feeling came from, but her instincts were usually spot on and in this moment they were not telling her to run, they were telling her to follow. She could sense an enormous but contained power in Gandalf. They continued to talk for a few more minutes as they finished their wine, when Gandalf abruptly stood up.

"Well I think we've talked away enough of the evening sat in comfort here… Yes, you are exactly as I expected. come along then"

"Hold on a minute, what just happened? Where is it that you think I am going with you" Freya said slightly alarmed and perplexed that this brief meeting could have led to some agreement she did not realise she was making. Lowering his voice and leaning over the table Gandalf grew serious.

"I will explain on the way, but for now, you must trust me. If you stay here tonight things will end badly for you".

"I am not defenceless" Freya retorted, wanting to believe it.

"No you are not". Gandalf confirmed and glanced slightly over his shoulder before returning his gaze to meet hers "And that is why it will end badly for you" he continued to look into her grey eyes and comprehension dawned on her.

The man Jack was watching her leering and she realised he was not the only one. She would be forced to defend herself from the increasingly drunk patrons, or the irate innkeepers wife and she would end up having to flee if her Gift manifested and she hurt someone. Slowly she stood never breaking eye contact with Gandalf. She picked up her pack and stick. Gandalf threw some money on the table, turned and left. Freya followed without looking back.