an: the long-awaited prequel to OB&A! hope you guys don't hate me for keeping you in suspense...? i'll just leave this chap here and hope to hear good reviews for it..!
disclaimer! the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien owns everything; Eäriel belongs to me.
At first the idea sounded fool-proof in my head.
'Honor the old alliance between elves and dwarves' just like Ada hoped would happen one day… Maybe he meant for his only daughter to fulfill that hope.
Of course when I looked back on the proverbial fantasy and the now, quite-literal, reality of my current situation, I do believe I might've bitten off more than I can chew.
If the air on the battlefield we left only an hour ago wasn't tense, then it surely is now that it's over.
The dwarf prince leading the way to where his comrades were stationed remained silent as we walked; he had reluctantly agreed to my request, as I recall, obviously not knowing whether to send me away back to the Woodland Realm with my tail between my legs or to do what a king would do and seek peace for his people.
I am grateful he did not choose the former!
I doubt I could stomach retreating to the Greenwood only to be punished for leaving and then treated like if I caused a cataclysmic disaster that would send the Greenwood deep into the Void… But I digress.
The dwarves that remained, well over a dozen, at least sixty or so –the ones that were still able to stand, that is—straightened up from wherever they were sitting as their prince came into view, all eyes falling on his form that was worn from a hard and bloody battle and just as covered –if not lesser than some— in guts and blood and dirt.
The prince seemed to share in the way his men reacted when I followed him into the camp; some reached for their weapons that stood nearby, others spat curses in dwarvish, and the remainder simply looked to their leader with confusion and near-demanding an explanation as to why there was a woman present.
As to why there was a Woodland Elf among their ranks.
The dwarf prince cleared his throat at seeing the reactions from his men, his low-timbre voice rumbling as he spoke, "This elf has come to help us in our campaign today at Azanulbizar." He was still miffed, if his tone was anything to go by.
One dwarf stepped forth when his words fell on the tense silence that followed; he was about as tall as the prince, save he looked older, and sported tattoos on what skin that wasn't protected or covered in blood, with a dark Mohawk of sorts on his head. His thick brows knitted into a glare of disgust as the dark eyes underneath his brow kept on me at all times. "How do we know he isn't 'ere to kill us?" He growled out gruffly in an accented voice.
The dwarf prince replied, "She has explained her significance and means no harm." 'So she says'; that was all he needed to tack on.
I tried not to show a reaction to his tone, retaining the stoic façade I had learned to hone in the last millennia. I was used to being scrutinized at this point, though compared to an elf's stare, a dwarf's was not as scathing.
"'She'!?" Both the tall dwarf and most of the dwarves behind him echoed simultaneously; Ada forgot to warn me that male dwarves were malchovenists.
"'She' has a name." I finally spoke; the dwarves around me, their prince included, looked at me as they heard my calm voice. I gave a slight nod of respect to the dwarves, "My name is Eäriel, and your prince is not lying or bewitched in saying what he has said of me. I left my kin to offer my services as a warrior to your prince." I explained, looking from the other dwarves to said royal dwarf to see he was slightly scowling at me for speaking up.
They could scowl and curse me all they wanted; I was here to do my duty for the sake of our estranged kin, and I was not going to leave because of intimidation.
*II*
It was well over a week later that we were passing through the western region of Eriador… I say 'we' because it has been three weeks, give or take, and the dwarves have yet to get rid of me.
Death glares and insults were a decent attempt, yes, but they didn't work very well. Noone dared lift a weapon against me because of their prince, which only added fuel to the proverbial fire.
If my map was correct –the map I had memorized and ingrained into my memory from the actual map I had drawn when I was an elfling—then we would reach Ered Luin in another five days.
Some small part of me dreaded it, meeting more dwarves that were sure to despise me on sight, though it was by my determination to fulfill my father's hopes and resilience to childish tactics that I did not turn tail and flee into the night.
Or perhaps it was the grace of the Valar that kept me moving forward… or fate. I wasn't sure which it was, to be honest.
The dwarf prince still seemed to sulk about what fate had dealt him with; he hadn't spoken much to me since we left the camp days ago, only to deem I 'make myself useful' and stand on night watch for his camp while they slept. Of course the other dwarves didn't sit too well with that, as they were still under the impression that I was going to slit their throats in their sleep, but their grumblings did not dissuade me from obeying the prince's words.
He certainly was a bit of a bugger, but not as much as the tattooed dwarf that stuck to his side like glue.
I still caught whiff of the burning cinders in the fire that the dwarves had stoked hours earlier for dinner; tonight was another duty of night watch. The loud snores of the slumbering dwarves nearly drowned out the usual noises of the night; a soft snort of bemusement passed through my nostrils as I lent an ear to the snores for what seemed the third time in an hour, but I shook my head and kept my eyes peeled to the stretch of empty grassland that led further west.
My fingers were fiddling with the blue feathers on the end of one of my arrows, the feathers I had had personalized years ago; drowning out the snores behind me as I sat perched on a tall boulder on the edge of the camp, I looked up at the night sky dotted with millions upon millions of bright stars that winked down on the inhabitants of Middle-Earth. I smiled a little at the thin crescent that sat righteously in the dark heavens, offering her soft light as comfort to me, to the dwarves I guarded that had lost friends and family to the bloody campaign in Moria.
From what I had gathered, both King Thrór and his son Thráin had fallen in battle before I came, therein leaving their sole heir Thorin as the reigning king. Exiled king, that is.
That would certainly explain as to why the other dwarves didn't trust me within yards of their leader.
A trudging of heavy footsteps sounded from the camp, and I felt my ears twitch at the noise; I glanced briefly over my shoulder to see a head of dark hair making his way to the edges of the camp near my boulder, and I raised a brow as I looked out at the open area ahead again.
What would be bothering him at such a late hour?
The dwarf prince stopped not far from the boulder and I decided to make myself known, fighting the urge to drop down and spook him; it would make for decent payback for his behavior of late. "Nothing to report, I'm afraid, aside from the clear night." I said blandly, seeing him jump slightly when hearing me.
A scowl was on his brow when he looked up at me perched on the boulder, and I wiggled my fingers in a cheeky wave. "If all else fails, you can spook whatever foe tries to sneak up on us instead of put those arrows to use." Thorin rumbled snippily.
I smirked a little and kicked my feet back and forth. "To what do I owe for the regal prince of Erebor to grace me with his presence?" I asked jovially, distinctly seeing his left brow twitch.
The dwarf prince huffed despite his annoyance with me, seeming to not mind the 'regal prince' term. "Not that it should matter to you, but I could not sleep." He answered as his tone lowered when admitting what ailed him.
That would not surprise me; to lose two important members of your family in battle, right before your eyes, is indeed a hard wound to bear. I pitied him for that moment; my eyes lifted to the stars above as I mused aloud, "It matters." When I felt his eyes lift to lock on me, I added, "I am not the scheming evil monster you've been led to believe, Master Dwarf… There are some elves that have a heart, you know."
"Or elves that are foolish." He said after a few moments of pondering, and I raised a brow as I lowered my gaze to look on him to see there was still much mistrust for me in his rugged features. "Forsaking your kin for whatever reason that gave you cause to leave only to throw yourself into a battle not of your concern is foolish if you ask me. You are not very wise, for a she-elf." He added the last bit with an almost-cocky edge in his low voice.
I frowned slightly, feeling my brow twitch; did he just say I was foolish…? "I didn't ask you." I said flatly, watching a twitch show on his own brow at my rebuttal; a soft snuff came from my nostrils as I looked out at the grassland beyond us and added, "I know my reason for doing what I have done… Whatever lie you believe is the real reason of why I am still here is on you, Thorin son of Thráin." Nothing he could say would change my mind; although I had half a right mind to argue with him for his picking at my resolve, I refrained… And by Eru, it was difficult.
Though instead of storming off to the safety of his kinsmen, instead of acting like a child, he surprised me by not doing so. Thorin remained where he stood, once again seeming to ponder on my words, and I looked up at the stars again as he remained silent. It may as well have been hours before his low-timbre voice spoke again, pensive. "You must have had a death wish… Or you are too kind. Or you are possibly the strangest elf I have met."
I looked down at him as his words registered, and when he looked up at me, I shrugged my shoulders and wondered, "Possibly all of the above?" He honestly thought I was 'too kind'? If I didn't know better, I would've thought he had just complimented me.
Thorin shifted his weight from one boot to the other and huffed quietly at my question, looking at the stars as he replied, "Kindness from an elf is an oddity in and of itself, from what I have seen… Though you are not exactly normal, either."
I smiled a little as I kept my eyes on him, reflexively fiddling with the feathers on my arrow. "If I am not mistaken, I believe you just complimented me, Master Dwarf." I tried to fight a smirk from showing when his head lifted to meet my gaze, and now that I noticed, the tips of his ears began to turn red.
The dwarf prince quickly looked away with a scoff, a scowl forming on his brow as he returned stiffly, "Good night, she-elf." He turned to retreat to his kinsmen with a stiff gait.
"It's Eäriel." I said as he started to leave, and he paused for a second at my voice, before he continued on to the safety of the other dwarves; I felt an amused smile begin to form on my lips as I looked up at the stars and exhaled quietly. "Good night, Thorin."
an: well i hope you guys liked it? hated it? let me know! i'm open for constructive criticism, if there's any. got an early start tomorrow so lates, duckies! (: