Welcome to “The Adventure Begins” part 3! Over the past few weeks, I’ve been posting scenes from my Hobbit fanfiction, featuring my OC, Nerissa of Rohan, who’s been learning that adventures are filled with danger, homesickness, and now, the occasional rain storm. My apologies if the Elvish in this fanfiction isn’t correct. I don’t know any Elvish (beyond a few basic words) and pieced together Nerissa’s dialogue using various phrasebooks and movie transcripts. With that being said, enjoy!
We’d been riding most of the day when the rain began to fall in a light drizzle. “Great! Just great!” I growled to no one in particular. I still felt homesick from reading my mother’s letter, and truthfully, I simply wanted to curl up alone and cry. Only the weather beat me to it.
“How are you, Miss Nerissa?” asked Ori. Having tucked his book away, out of the rain, he was looking to start a conversation to pass the time.
“I’m fine!” I snapped at him, not wanting to talk.
“Don’t like the rain? I don’t like it either,” Ori observed.
“I like the rain just fine, thank you, ” I replied curtly.
Ori drew back, looking hurt. “Well …”
I sighed, knowing I’d been sharp. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I’m not exactly in the best mood.”
Ori nodded, but still looked unsure of me.
Regretting my rude responses, I pushed aside my unhappy emotions and tried restarting the conversation. “So, what were you writing earlier?” I asked, referring to his ever-present book. Ori, the studious dwarf, was never without it.
“Well, you see, I was sketching Gandalf riding,” he explained, pleased I had asked. “I’d show you, but I don’t want the sketch ruined in the rain.”
“I’m sure it’s amazing. You’re a very good artist!” I praised.
“I am an orc, and I’m going to eat you!” I felt something brush my shoulder. I glared to my right, irritated, knowing full well this time it wasn’t an orc. Kili rode past, turned around, and winked. I sighed, and shook my head at him. If only he would stop reminding me of last night’s embarrassing joke. He was having way too much fun at my expense. I needed to find out what he was afraid of and plan a little revenge. My black mood was returning.
“Did you hear me, Miss Nerissa?” Ori’s voice broke into my thoughts.
“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t. What did you say?”
I turned my gaze from Kili to Ori. Ori looked from Kili to me and back to Kili and said, “Kili likes to play pranks on the dwarves, too. It’s just his way of being friendly. I wouldn’t be offended if I were you.”
I didn’t reply. The rain started picking up and rivulets of water ran down my head, along my arm, and pooled onto my glove. I shook my hand, attempting to flick the water off of it.
“Great weather we’re having,” Bofur commented, riding up beside me.
I yanked my leather archery gloves off with my teeth. “My gloves are soaked through. I used to love riding in the rain, but I think this has cured me for life.”
“You mean, you’re not enjoying this?” Dori joked, joining the conversation.
“For the first hour,” I sighed. “Now, I’m just too cold to enjoy anything.” I patted Gildin’s silver side. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”
“I would gladly be a horse if that meant the rain wouldn’t bother me,” Bofur said.
“Here, Mr. Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge?” asked Dori.
“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard,” Gandalf replied.
“Does anyone know where we can find one?” muttered Bofur.
Ori groaned, “I was hoping it would stop.”
“Me, too,” I sighed and drew my hood over my head, trying to keep out of the rain.
We were silent for a moment, not talking at all. I shivered. We continued on, rain-soaked and miserable.
“So, Nerissa, you’re from Rohan, are you not?” Dori attempted to revive the discussion.
I started, and answered defensively, “Yes, what of it?” I was afraid of where questions of my home might lead.
“I was just trying to make conversation,” Dori retorted. “But if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.”
“I’m sorry. The weather just has me on edge.” I tried to pass my overreaction off on the rain. “I’m from Rohan, yes, that’s right.”
“Tell us about your family. You haven’t said much about them,” inquired Bofur.
“Well, there’s not much to be said,” I said evasively. I want to tell you. I wish I could. Aloud I replied, “I have my mother, my father and my older sister, Portia. I really don’t have an exciting family. Tell me about yours,” I added at the end, hoping to change the subject.
“Well, ours isn’t exciting either.” Kili joined in with us. I was still not happy with him.
“Thorin’s our Uncle, and our mother is Lady Dis,” Fili added. Both brothers almost turned around on their ponies to face us.
“You mean there are dwarven women?” the question popped out of my mouth before I could think about it.
“Where do you think we came from?” Kili grinned. “Out of the ground?”
I blushed, “Well …”
“No, brother, she probably thinks we hatched from eggs!” teased Fili.
The company started laughing, and I felt my face grow hot even under the cold raindrops. Finding this an entertaining topic, the dwarves continued to think up ways they could have been born.
“Okay, okay, lads, leave the poor girl alone!” Bofur finally stopped the nonsense.
I glanced down. “Hannon le … I mean, thank you.”
“Hannon le?” Dori had picked up my mistake.
“It’s uhhhh … Rohirric!” I lied. I suddenly felt guilty. As soon as I said that, my eyes hit the ground. I slowly raised my eyes, and I felt as if every dwarf were staring right at me. I reached up and tugged at my hood, unconsciously trying to hide.
“Hannon le? Isn’t that Elvish?” the ever-studious Ori remarked.
I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. I felt trapped and scared. If they managed to guess who I was … “Well, i-i-i-i-i-it’s…” I started stuttering. I couldn’t get the words out.
At that moment, the magnificent, wonderful, glorious rain saw my plight and sent a new flood of water down turning everyone’s attention from me to the weather at hand. The conversation was effectively over as everyone scrambled to further cover themselves. The company quickly fell back into a line, and the hunched and hooded column continued on. I drew my cloak around me tighter, and almost laughed out loud, so relieved was I that my slip was forgotten, for now. Grateful as I was, I no longer minded my cold, sodden state.
Later that day, after what seemed like hours of riding in a torrent of water, the weather began to clear. The rain slowed, and at that moment, so did the company.
“What’s going on?” muttered Dori.
I could see Myrtle, Kili’s pony, standing completely still in the road, her ears back and the whites of her eyes showing. Kili tried to break her free from her stubborn stance and spin her around.
“Can’t you control a pony, Kili? A little too strong for you, there?” teased Dwalin.
“I’m trying!” Kili yelled back. “She just won’t move! C’mon, girl!” We heard him urge her forward, and watched as he dug his heels into her.
I gave Gildin’s sides a slight squeeze and weaved through the riders, arriving at Myrtle’s side. I grabbed her reins. “Come on, Myrtle.” Still the pony would not move. “And this is why I dislike ponies,” I muttered.
I felt Gildin shift his weight, growing nervous at the pony’s distress, and his hooves started to dance,. “Shhh, shhh. Daro. Av’-osto, mellon nin. Lle ier varna,” I whispered trying to calm Gildin down. It worked, because he stood still again, and his ears came back up.
I felt Kili stare at me. “What was that? The ancient tongue of horses?”
“Something like that,” I answered, angry at myself for speaking in my mother’s tongue for the second time today. I gave another tug on Myrtle’s reins, before dropping them, seeing that my efforts weren’t helping.
“Well, maybe it would work on Myrtle. She still won’t move!”
I glared at the stubborn pony, happy I lived in Rohan, home of the horse lords and not the pony lords. “Ponies are awful! They’re stubborn and temperament -” The pounding of hooves suddenly interrupted my passionate rant against ponies. I looked up to see Kili hanging on for dear life.
“Kili!” I called.
Sensing Kili’s pony’s terror, Fili’s pony started after his brother’s, both of them cantering as fast as little ponies could go.
Thanks for reading!