Hi! So, I just saw the Hobbit, and was absolutely in love with it. As a result, I got the idea for a fanfic. It picks up right at the end of the first movie as the dwarves are at the edge of Mirkwood. I hope that you all enjoy it, and I would love to know what you think. Any feedback at all that you can give me would be great. What's the point in writing if no one is enjoying it? Anyways, here we go... Enjoy!

N.B. "Naimh" is an Irish name. For those of you who have no idea how to pronounce Gaelic words (I know I don't), it is pronounced "knee-v." So, "knee" with a "v" sound at the end.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Hobbit, or of Peter Jackson's movie version.

Chapter 1:

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The last of the enchantment was completed, and the Necromancer chanted the final words of the spell. In front of him the ground began to shake, and the pillars of the old elven fortress began to tremble, shedding chips and blocks of stone that clattered to the ground like rain. The Necromancer smiled to himself as he raised his arms in preparation of the final part of the ritual, and tilted his head back with his eyes closed. He felt the power flow through him, down his arms and out his fingertips and reveled in his strength and in his darkness. He'd been hiding in the shadows for so long but now, now, at long last, he could begin his real work.

The ground stilled, and the dust settled; the Necromancer opened his eyes to - nothing. Staring in disbelief, he took a single step forward, and then another. There was nothing in the clearing in front of him; the inner chamber of his sanctuary was empty. Somehow his enchantment had failed, and he had nothing to show for his efforts. Now his power was drained; he would have to wait to begin the spell again. Feeling the rage welling up inside of him, he clenched his fists until he thought he would explode from all of the hatred in his black heart. He opened wide his mouth and roared, the terrible sounds of rage emitting from his dark, gaping mouth turned the shriveled vines around him to dust and caused the thorns to blacken. From near his fortress, even the huge spiders scuttled away in fear. The trees of Mirkwood shivered, stirring the foul air.

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Not so far away, Gandalf felt the disturbance in his chest, pausing for a moment from the intensity of the hatred he felt. Bilbo stopped beside him when he noticed the old wizard doubled over his staff.

"Gandalf?" The question was polite, but concerned. "Are you all right?"

The wizard in question straightened up slowly, as the 12 dwarves around him turned to see what was the matter. Looking down at the Halfling, he gave a small smile. "Of course Bilbo. I thought I heard something, but I believe it was just the wind." He deliberately ignored the icy gaze of the leader of their company, Thorin Oakenshield, though he could feel the blue eyes freezing him with their stare. "We must press on. It would be wise not to be caught unprepared here at night. There are foul things in these woods."

"We'll get inside the tree cover and then stop for the night." Thorin turned around, and continued to press on. "I don't want to camp out in the open."

The dwarves followed him, with Gandalf and Bilbo in the back, walking silently side by side. Bilbo was preoccupied with thoughts of the woods near the Shire, and Gandalf was preoccupied with the memory of his feeling of foreboding. Something was coming, although he was not sure what.

While the party had expected to make much better time, they had only just made it down the stairs from the stone plateau in the middle of the clearing where the eagles had left them. Thorin, although conscious and bearing his wounds with fortitude, was moving more slowly, and as a result their pace was drastically reduced. Morale, however, was still very high - the Lonely Mountain was in sight, and they had escaped the orc pack relatively unscathed.

It was after dark when camp had been set up and Bifur was starting a fire, when they heard the sound of running feet heading in their direction. Thorin was on his feet in a flash, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The other dwarves leapt (or in Bombur's case, rolled) to their feet, hands on various weapons. Bilbo was shaking as he had been before every battle they'd encountered, although he was more confident in his abilities and bravery than he had been before. Pulling out his short sword, he glanced at the blade. The sword remained silver, catching the light of the fire and reflecting it. Whoever their adversary was, it was neither orc nor goblin.

All relaxed when Radagast pulled up in front of the camp on his sled led by rabbits. He hopped off, and tottered towards Gandalf, muttering to himself all the while.

"Radagast, my friend, I did not expect to see you again so soon. What news?" Gandalf smiled, stepping forward to meet the odd brown wizard.

"Something terrible Gandalf, something awful, and strange, and unnatural." Radagast was rambling on, his words stumbling over one another as he tried to get them out as quickly as possible. "The Necromancer, he's been at it again, terrible effect on the wood, more dying, but now he's done the unthinkable again, what to do, I found it, he's-"

"Slow down, Radagast!" Gandalf reached out a steady hand and placed it on the smaller wizard's shoulder. "Now, calmly, tell me what it is that you came to say."

Radagast took a few deep breaths, attempting to slow down his train of thought and his speech. From across the camp, Thorin stood with his arms crossed as he warily watched the two men talking. The affairs of wizards were none of his concern; what was, was getting their party to the secret door by the required day. His thoughts drifted to Erebor and what their plan should be when he reached there, until he noticed something strange. There was a large bundle on Radagast's sled, and it was moving. His attention snapped back to the conversation long enough to hear the brown wizard say,

"-and then I found it Gandalf. I don't know where it came from or what I should do. I desperately need your advice."

"You brought it with you?" Gandalf raised one thick, gray eyebrow.

"Yes," Radagast whispered. "It's right here."

He walked over to his sled, reached down to the bundle, and jerked the edge of the fabric that was surrounding it. The bundle unrolled, and deposited something on the ground in front of all of them, that caused every member of the party to stare in shock. Not even Gandalf had expected what lay before him - a young woman.

Her hands were bound behind her back, most likely the work of Radagast, and her eyes were closed, but they opened suddenly, and soon became wide with panic. She began to struggle against her bonds, scraping her wrists together to try to loosen the knots.

"What is she?" whispered Oin.

"Is that what the Necromancer summoned? Doesn't look very powerful t'me." Dwalin crossed his thick arms over his chest.

"Do you think she has special powers?" Ori's close-set eyes were huge.

Bilbo was staring at the woman, spellbound. The only members of the party not expressing disbelief or shock were Balin, Thorin, and Gandalf. The latter was studying her, as if she were some sort of strange animal that he had never encountered before, and the former two were simply measuring her up.

The woman in question, meanwhile, was beginning to scrape the skin off of her wrists from trying to escape. Her terrified glance ran over each of the others, finally settling on Thorin. Her wide green eyes met his cold blue ones. There was no compassion in them, just stoicism and calm. Regardless of her thoughts on the matter, Thorin's mind was clear. He was going to listen to what the wizards had to say but, if this young woman were some sort of creature raised from the dead to wreak havoc on Middle Earth, then she would have to be eliminated.

But Gandalf had other ideas. Stepping forward, he knelt down in front of the woman. Bending down to look into her eyes, he pushed back the brim of his hat so he could better see her. "Who are you?" The first question was gentle, but firm.

The woman didn't answer, just struggled harder against the ropes around her wrists, which had already cut welts into her skin, and scooted backwards from the wizard.

Trying again, Gandalf said softly, "We won't hurt you. We simply want to understand what you are."

The woman tilted her head down, so she didn't have to meet his eyes. Pausing for a few moments, she let the silence drag on before she answered. "I am... human. At least... I think I am."

"You think y'are? What's that supposed to mean?" Dwalin's hand tightened around his hammer.

The woman flinched, and shrank away even farther away from Gandalf. She spoke again, her voice barely audible. "I don't... understand why I'm here. I-I shouldn't be. What's going on? Why am I here?" Who are all of you?" She glanced up at Gandalf, her eyes searching his lined face for an answer.

"We were hoping you could tell us some of that." Gandalf's voice was still gentle; he spoke to her as he would a frightened child. "We just want to find out who you are, and how you came to be here."

She was trembling like a leaf before him. "My... my name? You want to know my name?" She frowned, and seemed to be concentrating. After a moment, the look of panic came back. "I can barely remember," she whispered. "I think... I think it was Naimh, once. But I don't understand why I'm here I'm supposed to be-" she cut herself off, mid-sentence.

"Supposed to be what?" Gandalf prodded.

Naimh shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind. She was struggling with something, whether thoughts or memories, Gandalf couldn't tell. "I think I'm supposed to be... Dead."

Bilbo jumped when she said that. "So it's true. You were raised by the Necromancer."

"Nec...romancer?" Naimh looked confused. "Dead-raiser? What does that have to do with me? Please, can you tell me, where am I?"

She kept repeating the same question over and over, looking up at Gandalf with pleading eyes. He took pity on her, sitting down next to her and beginning to explain who they were and where she was. Radagast stood nearby listening, but scurried back whenever Naimh as much as twitched a muscle. Bilbo also sat nearby, examining the newcomer.

The dwarves, however, were not as interested. They gathered in a circle, muttering amongst themselves.

"I don't like this, I don't like it at all." Oin was fidgeting nervously. "What 'f she's got magic powers and kills us while we sleep?"

"I've never heard of anything like this before." Balin shook his white head. "I don't know what it is we should do."

Fili and Kili were talking and joking amongst themselves, teasing one another about what would happen if and when they died, and the tricks they would play on those around them if they could come back.

Thorin silenced them all. "What to do with that one is none of our business. We have a journey of our own to complete, and she is not a part of it. Leave the magic to the wizards; we must look to taking back our home."

At hearing that, Gandalf straightened up and turned towards to dwarf prince. "What was that I heard, Thorin, son of Thrain? You would not give aid to a lost soul?"

"Lost soul? Lost soul?" Thorin's voice raised as he repeated what Gandalf had said. "You think that she is a lost soul? If what you are saying is true, she is nothing but an abomination, something that nature never intended. It is not possible to bring back the dead, and if it was, it would be a great and terrible crime. Either she is lying, or she should be destroyed."

Naimh's head snapped towards Thorin's voice. "What... what are you saying? You want to kill me? But... I've only just woken up." She lowered her head, though kept her eyes on Thorin. Something about the dwarf kept her spell-bound. "What have I done to offend you?"

Gandalf stepped forward and intervened, motioning Thorin aside. When the dwarf joined him, the wizard lowered his voice and began, "Now Thorin, that isn't necessary. Would you murder an innocent soul and leave her body to rot in the dirt?"

"Innocent? Why should I believe her to be innocent? If she has indeed been awakened from the dead by a necromancer, how do we know that she is not some foul creature, born to do us mischief? Perhaps she has been made to look innocent, but is harboring thoughts to kill us while we sleep?" The icy eyes met and challenged Gandalf's.

"I listened to her tale, and I do not believe that she is lying." Gandalf's leaned down towards Thorin. "She barely remembers her own name, and has no recollection of her life or past. I do not believe the Necromancer intended to summon her from the dead; Radagast found her on the outskirts of the wood, lying unconscious on the ground. He brought her to me seeking my counsel. I will not allow you to kill her while she is under my protection. I will go to the kingdom of the elves in Mirkwood, there I can seek advice about what to do with her."

Thorin snorted. "More elves? That is even more of a reason for me to wish her gone. Where she goes, elves will follow. I've had enough of their kind." He paused. "But I will not murder a woman, even if I do not believe her to be innocent. Keep her bound and under watch through the night." He turned and strode away from Gandalf; the conversation was over.

"Dwalin! Gloin!" The two dwarves turned to him. "Keep watch over the girl. Make sure she does nothing suspicious."

"Aye," both answered, and walked over to where Naimh was sitting; stationing themselves silently on either side of her. After a few words more to Gandalf, Radagast hopped on his sled, and he and his rabbits disappeared between the trees, deeper into the forest.

The fire crackled and sent sparks spiraling up into the sky as Bombur prepared dinner. The dwarves, not ones to be depressed or worried long, were soon joking and laughing amongst themselves as always. When the stew was prepared, bowls were passed around to all the members of the company, except for Gandalf, who had disappeared. As Bilbo finished his, he looked over at the woman again. In the flickering firelight, he finally had a chance to really examine her.

She was slim, with fair skin. He couldn't see her eyes, they were closed, and the light cast changing shadows on her face. She was wearing a white dress with short sleeves, that reached down to her knees, and seemed to be made of some sort of lace. It reminded him horribly of a shroud. Her feet were small and barefoot, dirty from dust and mud. She was attractive as far as humans went, but didn't hold a candle to the elves he had seen. The one remarkable thing about her was her hair. It appeared black at times, but when the light hit it, it reflected back a deep red color, the shade of rich wine. It was pulled back and twisted into an elegant knot at the back of her neck, so he had no idea how long it was. Strands of it were beginning to escape, and were falling down beside her cheeks and framing her face, where mud smeared her cheeks. She had been silent this entire time, not even asking for something to eat, though he expected she was hungry. He was just considering mentioning it to the others, when he saw Ori get up with a bowl and walk towards her.

"Ori?" That was Dori speaking. "What d'you think you're doin'?"

"Well she's got to eat to, doesn't she?" His higher voice was matter-of-fact. "And she hasn't done anything suspicious so far."

Kneeling down beside her, he pulled out a knife, and slashed the bonds around her wrists.

"Hang on now, just what d'you think you're doing, huh?" Dwalin growled, leaning forwards. "You going to let her free to kill us all?"

"Her feet are still bound," Ori replied. "She couldn't go nowhere, even if she wanted." Turning to Naimh and holding out the bowl he said, "Here. Eat this."

Naimh looked at him, and then silently reached forward to take the bowl. Her slim hands and fingers closed around it and the spoon, and Ori got his first look at her wrists. He drew in a hiss of breath when he saw them; they were raw and bleeding from the ropes from when she had been struggling to get free.

"Thank you," he heard her murmur quietly, as she raised the spoon to her lips and began silently eating.

"Here, let me help you with that." Ori got up, and hurried over to one of the packs, pulling out a small container with ointment in it. The other dwarves watched, suddenly silent as he hurried back to Naimh, and opened the box. Placing some of the strange-smelling stuff on his fingers, he reached out carefully to her, as one would to a stray dog. Her green eyes follow his every movement, and then she put the bowl down. Stretching out her hands, she let him slather it on and rub it into the wounds on her wrists, flinching slightly as it burned her raw flesh. When he was done, she picked the bowl back up and resumed eating.

"I'm Ori." The smallest dwarf sat down in front of her. The conversations behind him resumed slowly, but he knew that Dwalin and Gloin were watching him closely.

There was no response from the woman as she finished off her bowl of stew. She placed it on the ground in front of him, and bowed her head again.

Ori tried again. "I'm sorry about your wrists, we wasn't sure if you were a threat or not. But that salve should help."

At first there was silence, and Ori gave a sigh of disappointment as he moved to stand back up. But suddenly, a soft voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Thank you, Ori. My name is Naimh." He turned around and stared at her.

"That's a strange sounding name."

"Ori..." He heard the warning in Balin's voice.

"It means 'bright'." She sat up a little straighter, and actually looked at the youngest dwarf of the party, before looking surprised. "I don't know how I remembered that..." Her voice trailed off, and she retreated back into her thoughts. Ori looked at her curiously. He couldn't feel any hostility towards Naimh, she looked too lost. Instead, he merely felt pity.

"How about I introduce you to everyone?" Ori smiled at her, and pointed out the dwarfs, running through each of their names, and finished with Bilbo and Gandalf. She glanced at each of them in turn. A few, like Oin and Nori, avoided her gaze, but the majority stared straight back into her green eyes... until she looked at Thorin. He met her eyes for an instant, and then turned his head away. She couldn't help feeling a sense of admiration for how regal he looked in the firelight, under the trees. Something almost forgotten twinged in her chest.

Balin let Ori talk for a few more minutes, before he roughly suggested, "Better get some sleep. We break camp early tomorrow." Ori smiled at Naimh one last time, before placing his bedding beside his brothers and falling asleep with them.

Naimh looked around at the sleeping dwarves, hobbit, and wizard. Her mind was a jumble of confused thoughts and memories. She was having trouble remembering the simplest things about herself, whether she was right of left-handed, whether she liked or disliked the night, is she'd smelled wood smoke before... Her temples ached from straining to remember details; she felt as if she was trying to catch the smoke that was spiraling lazily up into the sky. Lying back on the ground, Naimh turned her eyes upward to the canopy of trees above. Since they were only just inside the forest, a few stars peeked between the black branches and leaves of the trees, twinkling at her softly. She shivered slightly, she was cold. The dress she was wearing was thin, and gave her barely any protection from the cool night air. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she curled up into a ball, and closed her eyes to try to sleep. Though really, she wasn't tired. She'd been sleeping for a long time before, a sleep that all must take and none awake from. Except her, of course.

"Why?" was the only thought on her mind, as she slowly drifted towards the soft, black chambers of slumber.

From across the fire, Thorin Oakenshield watched the sleeping figure of the woman across the fire. He saw her shiver, and also saw as Ori quietly slipped away from the fire, and laid his blanket over her. He lay back down, snuggled between Dori and Nori, and warmed by the fire. Thorin was displeased that the dwarf had taken such a liking to her, but Ori was young, and knew little of the world. He on the other hand, knew too much. He didn't want any distractions on this leg of their journey. Making it through Mirkwood unnoticed by the elves was going to be tricky enough, without dragging a creature in tow. He leaned back against a tree trunk and closed his eyes. It would be his watch soon, he needed to sleep.

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Well, there's the end of Chapter 1. I hope you enjoyed it. As always, please R&R. Thanks!

Aeilyn