Chapter Text
100 years ago...
"Marin, do not go near the Big Folk."
Those were the words that replayed in young Marin's mind as she wandered about the small island of Himling, her home. In the distance, she could see the Main-Land, what the native folk there called 'Middle-Earth'. A place so close, yet so out of reach. No fairy had seen the Main-Land and returned, not since their self-imposed exile thousands of years before. But the separation of the two lands was broken when two wizards covered in blue cloaks journeyed from the Main-Land to the small island where the fairies resided, something no one had done for an age. Not since a dark power had ruled the lands of Arda. And, naturally, there were none on the island who took kindly to their presence.
At ten, Marin was intrigued by these Big Folk, seeing as they stood many feet higher than the little fairies, who rarely ever reach four feet tall. These wizards had no wings nor pointed ears, and yet magic flowed from them in great waves. This magic, they claimed, was gifted to them by the Valar, as it was to the fairies. But trust between the High Priest of Himling and the Blue Wizards of Arda was brittle and came crashing down in a matter of minutes. All because of one fae child with an empty stomach.
On the grand day of the Comharatio an Illumais , the celebration which coveted the light of the stars above all else, Marin was wandering across the island when her stomach growled from hunger. Her parents didn't have much in the way of food; she knew that. They did not hide their anger and discontent at their station from their children, and Marin’s brother did not hide his hatred for her. She had run, desperate and searching for a morsel of food as her people surrounding her kept their eyes open only for the stars. She was unseen and unheard, no matter how much she shouted. She knew she should have joined in the celebration, for there was no light that matched the light of the stars, but her hunger drew her from her people and towards the eastern end of the island. And that is where she saw it.
A beautiful tree with bark white as snow and leaves red as blood sat on the edge of the cliffs. Upon the branches were fruits of a golden hue, ones that shimmered in the light of the moon. Just the sight of such treasure made Marin’s mouth water and her stomach tighten. She wasted no time. She ran to the tree, and using her tiny wings, the girl flittered up to the first branch, unaware of the old eyes watching her. Her wings were still growing, so she couldn't get far, but she just barely managed to grab the closest fruit and dropped back to the ground before she devoured away at its juicy insides. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted before, dripping from her lips and tongue and satisfying a thirst she didn’t know she had.
Alatar, from his secluded lookout, suddenly stormed into her sight. An imposing figure over the little girl, his voice rattled the very roots of the trees in which the fairies kept their homes as he said, "You dare take the fruit from this tree, child?"
"I-I was hungry..." she said, tears in her eyes from the fear.
"Do not think me a fool! You are a thief, and you shall be punished in tandem!" The angered wizard pointed his staff at the fairy and said, "Until you find one whom you love, and who loves you in return, your wing will be broken! Never again will you fly until the ages of the world have passed and your life has become forfeit! An outcast from your kind, driven from your land, unable to reach the stars!"
It was as though a thousand swords had suddenly begun to carve into the film of her wing. There was no pain so horrible as the pain of an A’friseäd , a Breaking. The beautiful designs were joined by a severe rift in her once glimmering wing. A fairy's wings were their pride and joy, a gift from Manwë that was to be cherished and protected at any cost. Marin could feel the shame settling in her gut at the knowledge that she had, at so young an age, cursed herself and was forever parted from the loving arms of Varda, her Lady of the Night Sky.
The girl cried from both agony and humiliation as her fellow fairies gathered around the tree to see what had caused such a disturbance. She had shattered the solace of the celebration, drawing the eyes of all colors towards her disgraceful act. Water, fire, flora, winter, and countless other fairies alike joined in gasping, pointing, leering, and staring. Once they saw her broken wing, they were appalled and disgusted at the sight of the girl, for no fairy in one thousand years had committed an A’friseäd .
"Look at her wing!"
"What has she done to it?!"
"It's disgraceful!"
"Back away, all of you!" a voice shouted, and Marin looked up to see it was the other Blue Wizard, Pallando. "My dear girl, I am so sorry."
" Fale tair bhä, draôgd! " she screamed and backed away as far as she could, only to hit the very tree that took her beauty. In the words of her mother tongue, she had shouted for the wizard to keep away from her, forgetting any words of the Common Tongue.
Speaking in Himlaë to calm her, Pallando said, "I only wish to help you. I apologize for my companion. He does not usually act out in such a manner.” He crouched down to her height. Her breaths came in quick bursts as her chest heaved, but she did not back away from him any longer. He did not seem so quick to act as Alatar, nor did he stare with hate and anger. In Marin’s mind, the alarm bells silenced with each word the wizard spoke. "I know well enough the customs of your people for those who lose a wing, and I do not wish such a fate forced upon you. But, I offer you to return to Middle-Earth with me, the Main-Land, and another of our order can watch over you as you grow. We have another mission, and therefore must leave you."
Marin knew that with her wing, she couldn't go back home. Her parents and brother would all but seize the chance to toss her out. The trees would offer her no solace, nor would the sea. The High Priest was already a cruel man who forced each fairy to live as he bid them to do. She knew that unless she took Pallando’s offer, she was forever doomed to die alone, never to join her kin among the stars.
"I'll go with you to the Main-Land," she said. Pallando smiled and stood, offering his hand to her.
"We depart on the morrow, so I suggest you come with me, child," the Blue Wizard said. He stood and held out his hand to her. All it took to convince her she was making the right choice was the looks the crowd around them were giving her as she finally faced them. Shame held her head low as she took Pallando’s hand and left the confines of her people’s disregard behind.
He stayed true to his word. Pallando left the island, and Alatar was content remaining with the fairies alone for a time. When Marin and Pallando arrived in Middle-Earth, they sought out Radagast the Brown in the southern tip of the forest of Mirkwood, another wizard, although he preferred the company of the small creatures of the world. Birds, squirrels, hedgehogs, and animals of all different kinds were whom he liked to call friends. But Radagast’s heart was kind, and he did not hesitate to accept Pallando’s request and to take in the fairy as his ward. He spoke of his fascination with her kind, but when he saw her broken wing, he sympathized with her and gave her a cloak to hide that which she wished to remain hidden from others' sight.
The pain of the A’friseäd had passed with the years, and after such time had passed, Marin learned to live without the use of her wings. She trained alone, for Radagast abhorred the idea of fighting, but Marin always knew the world would not seek to protect her as Radagast always had. She mastered the use of the Common Tongue instead of Himlaë. After many years by his side, she left the company of Radagast with her bow and daggers in hand, gifted to her by the elves of Lothlórien. The wizard was sad to see her go, but understood his little raindrop needed to wander and learn about the lands of what would become her home.
With age came more fairy-like features for Marin. Her ears pointed at the tip, and her short silver hair grew blue streaks that only showed in the light of the sun, signifying her connection to the sea and water. Her feet were dainty, and her blue eyes shimmered like the sun on the sea. She memorized every path and hill of Middle-Earth that she could, sometimes finding both friends and enemies on the road.
The elves of Rivendell welcomed her gladly, granting her food and shelter after many long weeks on the road during her first journey out of Mirkwood. Lord Elrond was very kind to her, as were his children. Elrohir and Elladan, the twin sons, and Arwen, the daughter. It did not take long for a long-lasting friendship to grow between Arwen and Marin, for the women found in one another a faithful companion and a trusting advisor. Arwen Undómiel soon became one of the few people whom Marin could show her wings to.
When she traveled through the northern territory of Mirkwood, she met the elven princeling, Legolas, and his cruel father, Thranduil. The Wood Elves were not as welcoming into their home as their kin from Imladris... Well, the king wasn't. He sent her away as soon as he possibly could, knowing what she was and wanting her away from his elves as soon as possible. But Legolas, gifting her a simple kindness in the face of his father’s lack of honor, gave her what she needed for the road before she went on her way.
Nowhere and everywhere was her home. Her name was Marin Nymaed, a wanderer. A vagabond. An outcast.
Many years passed, and the once innocent fairy with a broken wing had grown with the world, watching it change as she too changed. Marin Nymaed was traveling near the town of Bree on her white pony, Gwaedal. As Marin neared the gate, the keeper granted her entry, and she immediately made for the Prancing Pony Inn. Only intending to stay a night, she wandered in, her hood up, and made for the first table she saw.
Marin settled in a far corner, away from prying eyes. If anyone were to glance at her, they would think her a hobbit. An advantage, for both hers and theirs sake. She was eating her dinner of stale bread and smelly cheese when a large figure sat down in front of her. She paused, and her eyes looked up to see the sparkling blue ones of Gandalf the Grey. "Gandalf..." she said in a mutter, recognizing the old pilgrim. "What are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask you the very same thing, my dear," the wizard said, a sparkle in his eyes.
Marin's lip perked up as she took a sip of her ale and leaned back, saying, "You know me well enough, Gandalf. I'm a wanderer. I wandered, and it just so happened to take me to Bree."
"Thank goodness for that, because I have a request to make of you, Marin," Gandalf spoke, making her ears perk up.
"A request? What kind of request?" she asked. “You understand I do not take favors so lightly.”
“I’ve known you many years, Marin Nymaed,” Gandalf said. “Do you not count us as friends?”
“There are many I count as friends,” she said, taking a drink from her half-pint. “This does not mean I do favors for all of them. Truly, such work would become quite exhausting.”
"Simply hear me out,” he continued. When she nodded to signal she was listening, he spoke once more. “I am asking you to join in an adventure. One which will take us to the mouth of a dragon, quite literally," Gandalf said. “I need someone who knows the hills and little paths of these lands. It has been some time since I have traveled those roads, but you-”
“I know every rock and stone better than I do my own wings,” she finished, to which Gandalf nodded his head. "And why would I want to do this? Why would any willingly go near a dragon?" Marin asked, taking another bite of her bread. “Besides, I thought all the dragons had died off long ago, save for…” She trailed off, giving Gandalf a look of warning. It was written plainly enough, the truth of the matter he meant to impart to her. “If you are meaning to say-”
"I need your help, Marin,” Gandalf said, interrupting her. She nearly scoffed at the audacity of his request, but instead decided to drink her ale to forget his words. “The dwarf king Thorin Oakenshield has put together a quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain." Marin nearly choked on her drink, the words shocking her very core. "And I need a wanderer who knows the ways of the terrain."
"Thorin Oakenshield? The heir to the throne of Erebor?" she said, her voice lowering to a hissing whisper. She had heard many tales of what lay in what was once the great dwarf kingdom of Erebor. Smaug the Terrible, a Firedrake from the North. "That dwarf has finally mustered up the courage to storm the mountain with his armies?"
"Well... only twelve others joined," Gandalf said, and Marin rolled her eyes, "but I have great faith they'll succeed."
"And what do I get out of this if I decide to join?" she asked. She wasn't about to go prancing on a suicide mission. “Why should I risk my life to help this company of dwarves find their home?”
“Because I could hope that, in your heart, you would find yourself facing a similar demon. Not the dragon, of course, but one that has haunted you since childhood,” Gandalf said. Marin quieted at his statement, instead looking down at her plate to avoid his gaze. "If your sympathies are not enough to earn your help, then know that a large portion of the gold is promised once we reclaim Erebor," Gandalf said, and she nodded her head slightly. "Not to mention, you would have Thorin Oakenshield in your debt. A very useful ally for the coming future." Gandalf stood up from his spot. "If you should decide to join us, go to the home of Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End in Hobbiton tomorrow night. A mark will be upon his green door, and you will know that it is the house. I hope to see you." He departed with a wink.
Marin watched as he walked away, her eyes not leaving him until he was out the door. She drank more of her ale and fiddled with her cloak. It was true that Marin was getting bored with her life, wandering from place to place with nowhere to call home. The money she would claim from helping this band of dwarves could hold her over for quite nearly the rest of her life. If the stories were true about how much gold remained in that mountain, Marin would never need to worry about her coffers ever again. Her only concern could be her travels and the roads ahead. She could settle in one place, far from the lingering eyes of the people of Middle-Earth, and live out the rest of her days in peace.
It was true enough, she missed having a place to belong. Himling had been such a place once, when she was young and starving and had two beautiful wings to call her own. But that path had long since been pulled out from underneath her. The dwarves of Erebor were like her in such a way. Except they had the chance to take back the lives they had left behind when Smaug stole their home from them. She didn’t know why, but some semblance of empathy called out to their situation, knowing that if she had a chance to reclaim a home once lost, she would want all the help she could get from those willing to offer it.
Marin knew that it didn't take a lot for the wizard to convince her to join the journey. But it felt like something that she needed to do, if only to add some peace to her own heart. Gathering up her things, she paid with what little money she had for her meal and ran out the door to find Gwaedal. Hopping atop her pony, she set off immediately for the Shire. She would not stop for day or night, not until she had reached the home of Bilbo Baggins and carved her place into the company.