Hunting Erebor

BY : Lady_Laran
Category: Supernatural > Crossovers
Dragon prints: 1209
Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or "The Hobbit." I do not make any money from this story.

Author’s Note – This idea came about when Mom and I got into the habit of discussing our favorite fandoms.  She keeps to a certain few while I tend to bounce all over the place, and this plot wombat was born during the discussion.  She encouraged me to write this and has been patient with me due to the fact I have so many irons in the fire story wise.  So this is for her!

 

In my mind, angels can use their grace kind of like magic. 

 

Since I have so many projects on my hands as well as Hobbit Big Bang, do NOT expect fast updates for this.  I will do the best I can, but I do not abandon my stories so please be patient with me.  Thank you and happy reading.

 

Warnings – AU for both Supernatural and “The Hobbit.”  This is a Fix-It! 

 

Disclaimer – I don’t own “Supernatural” or “the Hobbit.”  I don’t make money from this story either.

 

Chapter One – Two Hunters, Two Angels, and a Group of Witches Walk Into a Trap

 

“How the hell do we end up like this all the time?”

 

Sam groaned, hanging on tighter to his brother’s foot.  This would be the situation where the pair of them were dangling from a ledge of a tall building, hoping like hell the two angels that were supposed to be helping with this case would actually bail them out before he dropped his brother.

 

“No idea; stop wiggling,” he growled in response to Dean’s question, trying to hang on.

 

“This is the absolute last time I accept a case offered by Rufus,” Dean muttered, struggling to stay still while mentally screaming for Castiel or Gabriel to get their fluffy feathered asses out here to keep him from becoming a puddle of goo when he landed on the ground that seemed way too far down.

 

“No shit,” the younger brother groaned, feeling his fingers aching as he tried to keep his own balance on the ledge while holding onto his older sibling.  “No more cheeseburgers or pie after this, Dean.”

 

“Screw you, bitch,” he managed, then yelped when a flash of light surrounded them and the two brothers found themselves on a smooth tiled floor.  “Dude, what the hell?”

 

“Sorry about that guys,” Gabriel commented. “We got held up by some odd magical traps; it took some time to get out since we’d never seen anything like them before.  You two hurt?”

 

“Just muscle strain,” Sam answered, shaking his hands to get feeling back into the cramping digits.  “Otherwise, we’re all right.”

 

“Ok, so someone explain how one damned pipe can draw so much interest by witches and other weird freaks,” Dean demanded after reassuring himself that he was definitely on solid ground.

 

“All I know is that it’s Tolkien’s pipe,” the archangel replied.

 

“Whoa…ok, hold up.  Isn’t that the dude who wrote the stories about the hobbits and stuff?”

 

“That would be the one,” Sam answered.  “I don’t understand why Rufus would think the pipe has some sort of power, but it seems someone else believed it too when they set up this exhibit.   There’s traps everywhere.  That last trap we hit was a doozy.”

                                                                                                                        

“We did manage to get close enough to sense it,” Castiel commented, running a hand through his hair.  “There is a lot of power coming from the artifact so this is not a wild turkey chase.”

 

“Goose chase, little brother,” the archangel corrected, shaking his head. 

 

“It doesn’t make sense to me because this is the pipe of a writer,” Dean asked, still confused.  “I mean, he created awesome stories and languages but there’s been no sign of magic around him as far as we can tell.  So why does this thing have so much power?”

 

“I wish I knew,” Gabriel said, golden eyes holding a look of frustration and anger.  “It’s rare when traps can trip me up, and Castiel is no slouch with them either.  Whoever set the pipe here to be displayed was absolutely determined to keep people who know it has power away from it.”

 

“Hopefully, the ones we’re trying to beat won’t get there before we do,” the younger Winchester commented.  “How far are we from the room?”

 

“Two chambers over,” the soldier answered.  “The others are about equidistant to it so I suggest moving as swiftly as we can.”

 

The short haired male rose to his feet, frowning for a long moment as he thought about what their next steps should be.

 

“Well, trying to trick the traps by going above and below the rooms didn’t work,” Dean said.  “I suggest we take the straightforward approach.  Maybe if the magic senses we’re not here to hurt anything, it’ll let us through easier.”

 

“You’re hoping to Harry Potter it, aren’t you?”

 

“Well, the damned mirror let him have it since he didn’t want to use it so I figure, it’s worth a try,” the older human answered his brother, catching the reference to the first Rowling novel. 

 

“Nothing else is working so let’s give it a shot,” Sam said, unable to argue with his sibling.

 

The four of them headed to the door, and Dean reached for the knob while focusing on the intent to protect and not use the pipe.  All of them were expecting another trap to go off, but it seemed that the odd suggestion was working.  Once the door opened, both hunters and angels hurried towards the room where the item was being stored.  One more door unlocked itself beneath the green eyed hunter’s touch, and all of them emerged into the circular shaped room.

 

“Ok, so now what,” Dean asked, walking around the sealed Plexiglas container that held the wooden item the writer had used so often before his death.

 

“Keep it from being taken,” Sam commented, checking his weapons.  His attention was diverted when there was a loud slamming sound, and the other door opened.

 

Five others came in, hair smoking and clothing singed, and all of them looked furious and intent on gaining what they’d come there for.  The one female in the group gave a low growl when she realized they hadn’t gotten into the room first.

 

“It’s ours,” she snarled, hands curling into fists at her side.

 

“Nope, Smokey, it’s staying where it belongs,” Dean quipped.  “Don’t know why a pipe would be of interest to freaks like you, but we won’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”

 

That comment started a fight that the humans would remember for quite a long while.  Castiel and Gabriel were quick, holding off the spells that were being thrown at them, and both humans went after the group in hopes of keeping the magic from being used.

 

The fight went on for a while, three of the witches going down thanks to Dean and Sam moving quickly and working together.  The fourth one fell after Castiel pushed a spell back towards him, and the witch caught fire.

 

It was an odd shattering sound that filled the room next that drew all eyes to the middle of the room.  The remaining witch, who had landed on the case hard enough to shatter it, was screaming in fury and agony.  It was obvious she was dying, but her attention was focused on the pipe that was on the floor in front of her.

 

Gabriel launched a counter attack when she threw one at Dean, who had run towards the item to try to keep it from her reach.

 

What happened next was unexpected as an explosion filled the room when the pipe shattered under the force of Gabriel’s power and her magical attack combining, and the eyes of both the angels and humans were filled with light and their skin felt as if it were searing from the sheer heat of the explosion.

 

Pain, confusion, dread – those were the emotions that filled the hearts of the hunters and angels as the light and sound didn’t seem to die away.  Then a smoky sounding voice filled their ears, and it was one that Sam vaguely recognized from old recordings.

 

“Be at peace, great defenders,” it began.  “All will be explained soon enough.  Your time in this universe is over now, and your roles in the new universe shall be made clear to you.  My mission as the guardian between the world of my birth and the world I recorded is now ended.  May the Valar watch and protect you.”

 

The voice disappeared, as did the light and noise.  The sudden shock of silence brought all of them to a form of alertness.

 

Gabriel was the first to raise himself to his knees, quickly realizing that he and the others were nude.  He ignored that for a moment, golden eyes staring at the beautiful hall he and his friends were in.  Elaborate tapestries hung over white stone that looked almost iridescent in the warm light that filled the room.

 

“Ok, where are we and why are we naked?”

 

“I have no idea, Deano,” the archangel answered in a quiet voice. 

 

The area gave off a power feeling of peace and power, but it was difficult to tell for certain what kind of power because his grace was not responding as it should.  He turned to realize that Castiel must be feeling the same considering his hand was pressed against his chest with a strange expression on his face. 

 

“Be at peace, my sons,” a gentle voice called towards them.  “You are in the Halls of Manwë, and no harm shall come to you here.”

 

“I know that name,” Sam murmured from his position beside Dean.  “I can’t put my finger on it, but I recognize that name from somewhere.”

 

A woman emerged from a small alcove, and all four of them could sense the power encased in the delicate form.

 

“I am Vairë, the Weaver who records the passage of time and the deeds of those who dwell within Arda,” she began. “You were brought here when the item we blessed was destroyed.  No longer is our world in danger by those of your world so we owe you our thanks for ensuring Arda is no longer at risk.”

 

“Hold on, hold on,” the younger brother stated, panic and awe on his face.  “You mean to tell me we’re in the world that Tolkien created?”

 

“Not created, my son, but recorded.  In your world, one unique individual is chosen by fate to become the guardian of the world he or she has Insight into and will record what they see.  Tolkien recorded what he saw of this world and was blessed by us.  Each guardian protects the small portal that he or she can see through.  The item that ends up being a focus for thought and creativity becomes a key into the world they protect and record.  For dearest John, it was his pipe. 

 

“For those who wanted access to Arda for the power that could be had, the pipe would have enabled them to enter here and become another threat to the people we protect,” the Weaver told them.  “When it was destroyed, the magical whiplash destroyed your bodies but Ilúvatar was able to carry your spirits through the portal before it closed.”

 

“We’re dead in our world,” Dean asked, rocked by the words the woman had spoken.

 

“I am afraid so, but our father decided to reward your pure intentions by carrying your souls here so that you may continue to live,” Vairë answered. 

 

“We don’t have the knowledge or skills to live here,” Sam said quietly.  “I doubt you have use for hunters or angels here.”

 

“The angels are the ones who I shall address first,” the woman answered, eyes turning towards the two heavenly beings.  “The power of your creator does not extend to this universe so the power within your souls have been altered to fit within this universe.  No longer are you angels but shall be considered Istari.”

 

“You’re wizards,” the younger Winchester said, eyes alight with childish glee for a moment.

 

Vairë leaned forward, pressing kisses to the foreheads of each new Istar.  Castiel and Gabriel both relaxed under the touch, feeling calm by Her presence.

 

“Do not mourn for your paths will lead you in the direction of honor, service, loyalty, and companionship,” she told them.  “What you have lost, you will find anew but in forms that you may not have expected.”

 

Before anyone could speak, a slender man with pale white hair and almost violet eyes entered the hall where they were kneeling.  Vairë gave Him a smile and nod, and He greeted Her by taking Her hand and giving it a light squeeze before turning to the golden eyed angel.

 

“In your old universe, your father used you to walk into dreams and deliver messages,” He told the smaller built male. 

 

“I was his messenger,” Gabriel answered, voice faltering a tad.

 

“I am Irmo, the master of dreams and visions,” the Vala informed him.  “I would have you as my representative on Arda.  The Istari who have remained true to our calling are in need of further support.  Do you accept this, dream walker?”

 

Knowing he had no way back and this was now his home, the former angel knew he needed some form of a purpose and his instincts were telling him this was the best that he could be given in this world.

 

“I accept it,” he told the Vala, blinking when a slender hand was pressed to his forehead.

 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel tried to get up to help their friend when a scream was heard and a bright light enveloped him.  Within seconds, the light receded and Gabriel was clad in a green tunic and pants, belted with a leather belt with green embossing on it.  The outer robe was a darker shade of green and in his hand, he held a staff of wood taken from a mallorn tree.  The top of it was wild in a way, almost like a tangled twist of branches, and within those branches was a green orb that looked like it was a mix of jade and emerald.

 

“I welcome you, Eruadan the Green, to your new path,” Irmo said to him.  “Protect Arda as best as you can from all evil.”

 

The newly christened Eruadan rose, taking a step behind the other three and bowing to the Vala he was now bound to. 

 

Irmo smiled, then stepped to the side, and both He and Vairë bowed as a beautiful woman entered the chamber.  Her silver hair flowed freely to her knees and was decorated by beaded braids that showed amongst the thick tresses.  Her eyes were full of power and radiated light, and they could tell they were of a rich sapphire color.

 

The woman stopped in front of Castiel, blue eyes looking into blue, and the male seemed to relax by whatever it was he saw in the richly colored eyes.

 

“I am Varda Elentári, wife of Manwë and Queen of the Valar,” She said to Dean’s dearest friend.  “You were a warrior in your old world, and now I have a use for you that will better suit your heart.  You, like Ilúvatar’s first children, find beauty in light and goodness.  I would ask that you become my chosen and aid in the fight against Melkor’s evil.  Will you be my light in the darkness covering the world?”

 

“I will,” Castiel whispered, eyes closing when the queen leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead.

 

A muted cry of pain was heard from the new Istar as his grace, like his brother’s, shifted into a different form of power.  When the light receded, the former angel was clad in a very pale blue tunic and pants, a leather belt around his waist buckled with a silver clasp, and a robe that was pale blue with silver embroidery upon the hems.  In his hand was a silver staff that held a beautiful crystal that shone with light.

 

“Then rise, Urúvion the Silver,” she said, smiling as Her Istar opened his eyes to reveal silver flecks with the dark blue depths.

 

Urúvion stood, taking a step back to stand alongside of his brother and fellow Istar.  Eruadan gave him a smile, and then both of them waited.

 

Varda moved to stand before the two humans, and it was all Dean could do not to show how impressed he was with the power and beauty of the woman.  Truth was, he wasn’t happy by all of this.  This place wasn’t home, and how could these people think that it was okay just leaving his world in the lurch?

 

Gentle fingers caressed his cheek, making him flinch while staring Her in the eyes.

 

“I see your thoughts and understand your anger, young one,” She told him.  “You are not leaving your world in perl.  In truth, the fact you are not there actually allows for the balance to reset itself.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You and your brother were looking for a way to stop one of the embodiments of evil, correct,” She asked, not breaking the gaze they were sharing.

 

“Yeah, Lucifer got popped out of the box,” Dean said, watching as the Valië nodded.

 

“From what I understood from the guardian’s connection to your world, you and your brother were the two key figures in regards to that battle,” Varda said.  “With you two here in Arda and unable to return, the battle cannot occur.”

 

“She’s right, Dean,” Eruadan told his friend.  “Sam is the only survivor of the kids Azazel prepared to be Lucifer’s vessel.  None of the other vessels he could use will be strong enough to fight in.  This has put a complete halt to the Apocalypse right now.  Michael will just have to work on getting him back into the box since the grand showdown can’t happen.  The Apocalypse can never be restarted because Lilith was the final seal, and she can’t be returned to life.”

 

Dean snuck a look to Sam, who nodded.  It was the only silver lining in this whole thing, but it meant leaving behind people they loved.  Bobby, Ellen, and Jo were the only family members they had, and it hurt to know they had to leave them behind.

 

“It’s the only good thing about this,” the older brother grumbled, making the queen smile.

 

“Well, you have the heart and soul of an adventurer and I can alleviate your worries about one thing,” Varda said.  “You and your brother will not lose that blood tie even as your body is changed to better adapt to the work ahead of you.”

 

“That’s good ‘cause we’re losing too much,” Dean told Her.

 

“I know and if I could, I would bring your family here to you but that portal is now closed,” the woman quietly replied.  “I can safely tell you that you two will have a chance for one of the truest forms of happiness Ilúvatar can grant.”

 

“What’s the catch?”

 

Varda gave a laugh that was like liquid star shine, and Sam could see why the elves adored the woman so much.

 

“You both are familiar with the tales our guardian recorded?”

 

“You mean the events of ‘the Hobbit’ and ‘Lord of the Rings?’  What about them,” the younger brother asked.

 

“I do,” She replied.  “Those events were what Vairë could see coming for Arda, and She had John record it.  If the events unfold as he recorded, then a great many lives will be lost and some of those are needed,” the queen said quietly.

 

“So we have to help beat the dragon and later that guy with the fetish for towers and rings,” Dean asked, making his brother face-palm.

 

“Precisely,” the Valië said.  “After we are finished here, my husband will have His eagles escort all of you to Imladris for training.  You and your brother, while excellent warriors, have a lot to learn before it is time to work towards regaining Erebor.”

 

The two brothers stared at each other for several long moments before Sam gave a small nod, and Dean heaved a deep sigh before answering the queen.

 

“All right, we’ll do what we can to help,” he said to Her.  “I’m not so sure about the name changing thing that’s going on though.”

 

“I’ll be giving you the elvish translations of your names,” Varda promised.   “From what I understand from the guardian before his task had finished, I know your names mean ‘valley’ and ‘name of god’ and I will ensure you have the same names but in the language of the people you will work with.”

 

“Are we to remain men here or something else,” Sam asked, chewing on his lip for a moment.

 

“You will become Dúnedain,” the beautiful Valië told him.

 

“Uh, Sammy, want to refresh my memory,” Dean asked, looking to his brother.  The term was familiar, but he was drawing a blank on what it meant.

 

“The Dúnedain are also known as the Rangers of the North, Aragorn’s people, as well as the Dúnedain of Gondor, who intermarried with the people of that country,” the younger answered.  “Most have long lives because they share blood with the elves.  Aragorn lived to about 210 years of age before he died.“

 

“You both shall be Dúnedain of Arnor, a part of the Rangers of the North,” Varda informed them.  “In fact, we have arranged it so you will be cousins to Aragorn through the older sister of his mother, Gilraen.”

 

Both of them looked rather speechless at her announcement, and She met Dean’s eyes.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Not really but I know it has to be done,” he said, making Her laugh before leaning into press a kiss to his forehead.

 

The elder Winchester gave a deep cry of pain as the magic poured through his body, changing him from human to Dúnadan.  As the physical change occurred, the knowledge of several languages, culture, history, and geography were given to him so that he would be able to survive in the new world.

 

Dean was breathing hard when the change was finished, realizing his senses had become quite a bit more sensitive than they had been.  He’d been dressed in a simple tunic, pants, and boots, and it took a moment for him to pull himself together.

 

“Welcome, Imrathon,” Manwë’s wife greeted, gently brushing Her hand over his head before moving to Sam.

 

She placed a kiss on his forehead, like She had for his brother, and the light surrounding him nearly blinded the others.  Sam emitted a cry as well and once it had receded, he was dressed similarly to his brother.

 

“Welcome to you, Eruestan,” Varda smiled, gesturing for the two Dúnedain to rise.  “Now, my husband’s eagles will take you to Imladris.  From there, Eruadan and Urúvion will go with Olórin and learn from him before starting their wandering if they wish to do so.  You two will need to learn the ways of combat of this world before you start off on the missions that will need you both to correct.”

 

The Queen of the Valar led them to a wide balcony where four large eagles were waiting.  The largest one bowed its head to Her, and She gently stroked its beak for a moment.

 

“To Imladris, dear ones, and please be safe,” She spoke to the eagles before disappearing.

 

“Of course, it had to be flying,” Imrathon grumbled, climbing on and hoping this wouldn’t be a long flight.  New world or not, flying still seriously sucked.

 

Author’s End Note – Okay, outside of Castiel, I was able to find Elvish equivalents to the names of the other three characters.  Gabriel, which means Man of God, was changed to Eruadan.  Castiel, I decided to honor his angelic status as well as his bond to the Vala he serves by choosing “fiery” as his “definition” so to speak.  There’s no meaning for Castiel and fiery, interestingly enough, pays homage to an actor who plays a dwarf we all know and love.  So, Aidan for our Castiel and that translates to Urúvion.  Dean’s name means “valley” so I went with Imrathon, and Sam’s is “name of god” and so it is Eruestan.   I love my elvish naming site!   I created a sister for Gilraen so that our boys would have a tie into the family.  Also, Valië is the singular form for Valier, which is the title for the Seven Queens of the Valar.  I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please let me know what you think.  Also, check out my profile to find the link to my yahoo group so you can get update alerts!  ~ Laran



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