The Wolven Warrior (The Hobbit x Oc) [𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗧/𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡]

Sometimes, Gandalf gives the worst advice, ever.

"It's the dark magic plaguing this place, it's causing her ill. We need to keep moving, her condition won't improve like this," the company turned their shocked gazes to their king.

"But Thorin, she should rest-"

"No, I should not." The shock felt by the company at the amount of assertive control in the female's wheezy voice completely erased all words on their tongues. She took deep breaths as she forced her eyes open and grabbed the nearby tree to pull herself up. "No amount of rest or of medicine will save me of this. Because I'm an illusionist, the magic within me fights the the forest's magic like a virus," Oin looked guilty as she explained and at the thought of being unable to help her sickened state despite being the healer of the group, "Thorin is right, the longer we stay, the sicker I get, so we need to keep moving," her voice was wobbly and unsteady, but held as much conviction, assertiveness and strength as Thorin's.

The company was still wanted her to get rest, but were unable to protest since she had already started forth on the stone path.

They had been walking for a while, until they stopped, and the inevitable happened.

"Nori, why have we stopped?" Asked Thorin, sounding irked.

"The path." Nori pointed in front of him, "Its disappeared."

And now the real fun begins.

Find the path was a fun, fun game. Especially when you just wanted the ground swallow you up and die already.

The company had now spread out to distance within sight, well, within those who still retained sight, to look for the path. But their condition grew warier and their minds became more poisoned with each breath.

By this time Amaris could barely walk and needed to have her hands on someone's shoulders to see were she was going; she was, in a word, useless. Utterly and plainly, useless. If she hadn't felt like the end of the world she would have been aggravated, infuriated, frustrated, something! But instead she felt cold, she felt sick, and the thought of surrendering to an endless slumber of undisturbed peace became more and more appealing.

Finally, Oin forced her to sit with her back against a tree trunk while the others scouted about, not like she could protest. She let her eyes fall shut as her ears tried to focus on the distant and disoriented sound of the company's voices. She was too far gone, too tired to notice that a fight had erupted amongst the company or that Bilbo had climbed up a tree out of sight. Instead, all she heard was the soft and persuading sound of sleep, effortlessly convincing her to surrender to its peaceful grasp. She was so tired, so cold. She could sleep, just for a moment. Just for a few minutes...

Amaris didn't know how long she'd been asleep, but she wasn't entirely awake yet. Why was she awake? A painful sensation shot through her otherwise cold-numb arm as soon as she twitched a finger. 'Oh,' she thought as she screwed her face in displeasure, 'that's why,'.

She couldn't tell were she was. She was on her back, but she sure as heck was on the forest ground. Was she suspended in air? Was she floating?! Surely not, she rationalized as she fought off the pounding in her head in order to think clearly. She felt something wrapped around her... a blanket? No, not a blanket, it was too cold and too sticky to be a blanket-wait.

Wrapped in something cold. Sticky. Suspended in air. Mirkwood.

She heard a cold and shrill chittering noise from outside her strange sort of cocoon.

Spiders.

Great. Just great. This is exactly what Gandalf could have helped to avoid. Whatever he's doing right now better be about the end of the Valar-forsaken world or he's in trouble.