Hello there, folk! So, recently I got into all-things-Tolkien, and most-things-Peter-Jackson-adaptations, and this is what became of it. So, thank you those who click on the link to read, I love you for it :)) This is looking up to be a long one, and I'm planing to cover all three movies, mixing and matching element from both writen literature and screenplay, so I'm including both worlds in this thing. Some things I liked better in movies, other things I liked better in the book, so that is why, in case you are wondering.
So, let's get the ball rolling here, shall we?
Story Details:
Tittle: Dark Waters
Author: xXWhispersInTheWindXx, aka Nicole
Summary: Claiming the Company would fare better with an expert in travel, Gandalf convinces Thorin to hire seasoned guide Gilli Waters for the job. This plan has two major holes with dire consequences: first, Gilli is not a Man. Second, Gilli is not a man.
Warnings: canon violence, occasional mild language, mention of rape, non-graphic depiction of torture, mention of alcoholism, lots of spoilers.
Pairings: Undecided as of yet, but will happen as the story progresses.
Face Claims: Gilli Waters—Keira Knightley, Little Brother—Scottish Shire Horse (pun intended), Saezae—red-tailed hawk.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine, if you don't, it is; simple as that :))
DARK WATERS
1 / New Recruit
Unimpressed.
There was no other word to describe how he felt. Well, that, and underwhelmed. Frankly, he saw little to no need for this; in fact, the entire ordeal was just about useless to begin with. Now that he saw what, or rather who, that old Wizard was talking about; he had more than half a mind to turn around and walk out of the tavern, taking his men with him. The Hobbit was one problem he would weather until he made himself useful, but now—surely, the Wizard was takingHello there, folksss him for a fool.
"You had spoken of a well-traveled and seasoned guide; not a small boy too young for whiskers," he stated. He was wasting his time here.
"I had spoken of a well-traveled and seasoned guide, yes. This guide just so happens to have the face of a small boy too young for whiskers. I spoke nothing regarding the two being mutually exclusive," the Wizard informed him naturally. Thorin's scowl was one of aggravation.
"This son of Man cannot have seen twenty harvests," he stated. "How do you claim him to be seasoned?"
The Wizard only gave him one of his trademark looks, that said he knew better and everybody should just shut up, and heed his word, before saying, "Trust me, Thorin, son of Thráin, you will find no guide better than Master Gilli Waters on this side of Middle-Earth."
Thorin observed the guide—small boy—in question skeptically. This was absurd; they had a good plan, a fine path on the map. They hadn't the need for a Man—a Man—of all things at the head of his party. Including the Hobbit was bad enough; now Gandalf had told him to turn for the assistance of a Man? The Wizard had assured him that this Gilli Waters would help—Thorin knew all too well the price which he and his company would pay for that assistance; in coin, and quite possibly in life. If indeed the boy was a seasoned guide, he would learn of the goal behind their journey within minutes simply hearing of the landscape they must conquer. When it came to gold, the greed of Men challenged and, at times, surpassed that of his own people.
Only, he had the confidence that none in his Company would drive a dagger through his back in the night and rob him bare.
"We are leaving. I have not the time for this nonsense," he said to the Wizard and turned to walk back outside, to leave behind the small settlement of five hundred Men after a fair rest for the night at the inn where they had rented rooms.
"Master Gandalf." The voice at his back was unfamiliar, high for a boy, but considering his age, or lack thereof, it was of little surprise. "You are late. I was expecting you a half turn of an hourglass past," the boy stated authoritatively. "Is this the Dwarf you spoke to me of?"
Thorin turned back to look aver the boy, hardly a head taller than himself, and by far, shorter than the wizard; all the same, the boys stood with his shoulders squared and his chin up in a defying air of control and command. Arrogance was an unbecoming trait.
"It is, Gilli Waters," the wizard confirmed. "You must pardon my delay. He has not been most agreeable," Gandalf apologized on the Dwarf King's behalf. Thorin would have reprimanded the Wizard for assuming to apologize in his stead, especially as he had no intention to do so himself, but the boy spoke before Thorin had the chance to open his mouth.
"I must do nothing of sorts, Master Gandalf. You have stated you are on a tight schedule, yet you spend my time. I take punctuality quite seriously, you must know, and do not appreciate being kept waiting," he said coolly, looking not at the tall Wizard but at the shorter Dwarf.
"We are leaving," Thorin said angrily. Young, pretentious, arrogant, and without an ounce of respect for authority on top of it all. He had scolded and insulted an ancient wizard and a Dwarf King, all the while claiming to be above wasting his time on both in a single breath.
"We are not," Gandalf said, then turned back to the boy. "I apologize for the tardiness. You are correct; we indeed, are on a deadline. Shall we sit?"
The boy turned his back and walked away, seating himself at a small booth fit for two in the back of the tavern. It was a window seat, providing a good view of the town, three mugs of ale already at the table. Reluctantly, Thorin followed the lead of the wizard, three of his men at his back. He seated himself across from the boy, Gandalf instead opting to sit next to the young lad. The small size of two of the three present allowed for enough space, despite the booth being only meant to house two. His companions took a seat in the booth at the wizard's back, all facing their King.
"You are headed East, I'm told. A poor month to begin the journey; the rains will start soon, and the chill will set in shortly after. You should have traveled two moons past," the boy said. "The rain will corrupt your path. The mountains are treacherous in the rain, eroded, more so than you would typically imagine (though you should). That is your first mistake."
"Dwarves read the stone better than any other creature in Middle-Earth. Who do you think yourself to be, that you would—"
"I think myself to be wiser than you," the Man interrupted shamelessly. "I would have walked two moons past. Though, I assume, this is in part thanks to Master Gandalf. You should have seen me sooner," the boy told the wizard. "Now, I will need several pieces of information: how many will be traveling, what is the deadline, whom are you trying to avoid, and how far do you wish to be led. Your payment will depend on those criteria."
Thorin remained silent, looking at the boy with a fiery intensity that made Balin, sitting behind the boy, cringe slightly. The boy looks on with a dispassionate mask, face as static as still water. It only served to anger the King all the more.
"Thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit and myself," the Wizard spoke up. "Our path will take us over the Misty Mountains; you may leave us once we come upon the city of Dale."
Thorin gave him a warning look, one that the boy was all too quick to interpret for comfort.
"I care not for where you are going, it is none of my concern where you are going and why you are going there," he told Thorin. "My concern is getting you there all personal intact, getting paid, and getting home. Erebor is no business of mine so rest your mind, Dwarf. I would gladly part with you in the city of Dale. Now, a Company of fifteen total, one a Hobbit and one a wizard. The rest are Dwarves. The deadline?"
"As soon as possible. We must be at our destination before the winter sets in," Gandalf said when it was clear that once more Thorin would say not a single word. He favored scrutinizing the boy in his mind far better than talking to the insolent brat.
"Whomever are we avoiding?"
"Anybody that would hinder us," the wizard said plainly, receiving a nod from the boy, who moved on immediately.
"Show me the map," the lad said. Thorin leaned into the back of the bench, bringing his arm up over his overcoat protectively, where two maps rested. Gandalf looked at him expectantly.
"Show Gilli the map, Thorin. Please." Thorin said nothing, and Thorin did nothing—unless glaring at the boy counted. Again, the boy interpreted the look all too well for comfort.
"Calm yourself, Dwarf. I must see the map to tell you what in your plan is wrong—your plan is with error, don't think to argue that. Every plan is with error. My job is to tell you where they are so at you might evade them, not to ask questions regarding your destination. If it is of no hindrance to me, I do not care for it."
Thorin exchanged a look with Gandalf. The Wizard would not let up, his gaze leaving no room for argument. His eyes seemed to say, 'we haven't the time for this stubbornness.'
When this Man betrayed them in the night, Gandalf would be the one to answer, then, Thorin decided as he reached into the fold of his coat and retrieved the large scale map of the country, folded several times, and placed in on the table. He leaned over it protectively, cautiously, ready to spring at the first sign of trouble. The boy took the map unceremoniously and unfolded it, placing it flat on the table. He looked at it for all of five seconds before pointing on the space between the Misty Mountains and their current town, right on here their path would have crossed.
"You can't pass through here," he said. Every pair of brows that was not the boy's went up. How did he—
"In this time of year it's infested with a kind of insect that attacks the mind. A single bite rendered the bitten mad and disoriented. This mite rarely shows itself. They stay in trees and tall grasses but a large group like yours; they would feast upon and infect you alike. In the two days it would take you to cross their territory, half of you would fall victim, and the antidote is hard to concoct. You will have to round around this way and come back out through here, like this," the boy said, fetching a charcoal pencil from one of the several pockets in his vest and drawing a path. "It adds an extra two days, but there is a village here," he said, dotting the area, "where you might pick up previsions and rest in a proper bed.
"And here, where you would cross in the Mountains," the lad pointed out. "This path is crumbling dangerously. By the time you reach it, it will be untrustworthy to cross. You would have to go past here. It is dangerous, the terrain no better, but it would be far more stable. If you don't happen upon a thunder battle, of course, but the Giants travel with the seasons, so there would be no guarantee that you would cross their paths, nor is there guarantee that you won't."
"The Stone Giants are a myth," Thorin told him impatiently. The boy looked amused.
"So you say now. A very different song you will be singing when you cling for dear life to a moving slab of mountainside rock. And of course you must consider rock slides. Summer rains are a time of crumbling for the Mountains. I would suggest taking this path, like this," he said, dotting a broken line on the map with charcoal, farther south.
"Alas, it would add another week to two weeks to your travels. It would be much safer, but we would then have to cut dangerously through Greenwood and anything that isn't the Common Path or the Kingsroad-" Kingsroad? What the bloody hell is Kingsroad? "—would surely kill you with its toxicity. Also, this range is infested by Mountain Trolls, and Goblins and the terrain is their natural battleground. The steep slopes and narrow passages are where they fight best, however oddly they might go about it, so you must be ready—judging by the sour look on your face I take it you are, reluctant though you may be. I cannot hold it against you; those things are nasty creatures.
"I would suggest breaking here in this bay," he marked off the map once more. At that point half of the black on it was charcoal pencil, unlike a quarter hour before, when it was ink only. "There is a settlement there. In the rain season they are under a constant downpour and crossing the pass to reach them would be dangerous, but they would offer you shelter for a day or two, if you wish to replenish food and water stocks. Also, the inn is quite large, should you wish for a bed."
He pocketed his charcoal and leaned back against the back of the bench, crossing his arms expectantly. Reluctantly, Thorin took back his original opinion—though he would not admit it aloud. Seasoned and well-traveled indeed he was, and experienced beyond his few years.
"By my calculations, including leeway and setbacks, estimated time of arrival would be a week before the final calandra days of autumn. That is considering being taken prisoner, captured, interrogated, injured, ambushed, lost, and taking time to rest and recuperate, one or several of the aforementioned scenarios accounted for accordingly," the guide informed. "Now let us discuss a matter of payment; you cannot afford me."
Once more every pair of brows that was not the boy's own went up, only to lower into an insulted frown.
"If all fifteen of you empty your pockets, you will, perhaps, if luck smiles on you, have enough Coppers and Silvers for three Golds. I get paid half up front, no exceptions, and a journey like this will not come cheap. It would be fifty Golds now, fifty once in Dale, and unless you magic yourself a merchant's purse, you fall short. Astoundingly so, considering who you are.
"Fortunately, it is not Golds that I need of you. You are Dwarves, and as such you speak to the stone, do you not? Thus, you are naturally gifted in finding any precious stone nameable, am I correct? I would overlook the matter of coin if you can pay favor for favor."
Gandalf leaned forward interestedly. Thorin took the map and folded it away. The lad, Gilli, opening his breast pocket and revealed a thrice folded parchment, reaching across to hand it to the Dwarf King. Cautiously, he took it, half convinced the parchment would be stained of poison; by the confident expression of the guide's face. Carefully he unfolded it; in the middle was a talented illustration of a raw, uncut stone no larger than half of his fist, rectangular in shape but rough and sharply angled, it was coloured in white and blue shades characteristic of a moonstone. Around the main illustration were several others, smaller in size, each of the same rock but of different angles.
"That stone," the guide said. "That very specific stone and it alone. Can you find it?"
"What stone is this and what is its importance?" Thorin questioned.
"It was lost many years ago and I have searched it for more than a decade without luck. It belongs to my people and it was stolen fourteen years ago. I wish to recover it," he said plainly, almost with a casual shrug, but from the glint in the boy's eye, Thorin knew this stone meant more to him than a hundred Golds did, more than a thousand, more than a million. The greed of Men truly knew no bounds—for this stone could not belong to Men if it meant so much to the boy. This was an ultimate reward, and it certainly did not belong to the guide. While Thorin saw no natural tells of lie in the lad's face, he was certain it was only because the boy was a skilled wordsmith. He knew of the properties of moonstones, the power they were said to have and the powers they truly did possess.
"No," Thorin answered. The boy took the paper and folded it, hiding it in his breast pocket once more.
"Then you should find yourself another guide, though I cannot promise the structural integrity and wholeness your group with others. I would, however, suggest one Alachai Nadaher. He is seasoned more so than myself and charges less, though only because he often prefers the fast path to the safe one." The boy then picked up his ale and drank it all in large, deep gulps and retrieved five coppers within one of his vest pockets, dropping them within the now empty mug.
"Best regard, Master Thorin, Master Gandalf, Company," he bid them, excusing Gandalf to stand so that he might leave. When he parted, Thorin's companions all exchanged glances of varying emotions—confusion at the blunt answer and dispassionate depart, no small amount of impressed admiration for a job well done, disappointment that he left, relief that the disrespect and cockiness departed with him.
This was certainly not what they have been expecting of a son of Man who, by the looked of it, was sixteen harvests at most. His ability to read maps as well as people was impressive, certainly, and he knew the path they planned to take without a hint as to what it would be. Certainly, Gandalf had not been so bold as to share this information with the boy beforehand? Quietly, his Dwarf companions all piled from their table to join him, and the four engaged in a discussion regarding the young guide, while Gandalf excused himself and disappeared from the tavern.
~{VVV|o0o|VVV}~
Gilli felt the old man might follow her as she rounded the corner. When she realized he was behind her half a moment later, she was none the less surprised to see him; not because she was caught off guard, but because she hadn't been certain he actually would follow her.
"He takes me for a young fool, that one," she remarked angrily, rounding the corner of the bakery near the tavern. She slumped against the wall in exhaustion; heaving a sigh of both anger and sleepiness. Having not slept the night before was taking a toll on her aching body.
"I know full well he can find it, but he takes me for a liar and a thief!"
Gandalf had the gall to checker at that, "Gilli, my dear, I had warned you he would not be the warmest of company."
"That you did, Master Wizard, but you hadn't said he would look at me though I was some obnoxious child, the prat," Gilli hissed angrily. "I traded a hundred Golds for a single stone and he knew full well he could find it, but instead called me a liar and cheat to my face with a single word! Does he think me so stupid as to assume I hadn't realized this, or does he mean insult to injury? How is it that such a man is King? He is insufferable! First he refuses to look at me like I am unworthy of his time—despite having wasted mine gladly—then behaves as though I am no good at my own job! I will not work with him, Gandalf, you will not convince me," Gilli said, crossing arms in defiance all the while standing a head shorter than the wizard.
Gandalf smiled at her with a mixture of amusement and sadness.
"Thorin had lost his home young, and seen the harsh struggles of the world all too sudden. He is slow to trust outsiders, if at all. You cannot fault him for his reluctance."
"No, I cannot, and I don't. I fault him for the insolence of his tone and attitude. I have awaited you for one half hour and when you do grace me with your presence, his back is to my face! Then, when His Grace decides to allow me to gaze upon his royal face, he looks at me though I am some foul stench and he had sucked a bucket of lemons before smelling it! Whatever shred of self-respect I have, Wizard, don't rid me of it. I swear I will throttle him before the sun come up if I have to go back in there and sit across from that insufferable Dwarf. I cannot work with a man like that, Gandalf—you won't make me."
"Perhaps," the wizard began, "you can be persuaded." Gilli shook her head. In answer, Gandalf retrieved something from the folds of his robe and held it up to the guide. She went to snatch it from him but the Wizard was quick to withdraw.
"That is not yours to possess or trade, Wizard," she warned angrily. "Where did you find it?"
"I have found it where you left it. You really should watch where you drop such an object, Miss Gilli, for if it should fall into the hands of the wrong people, bad things may happen to those around you."
"If you seek to threaten me with my own weapon I suggest you depart at once, and find a nice tight hole in the west across the Sundering Sea where you may hide, for I will find you, and I will show you precisely why that is a mistake."
"I mean not to threaten, my dear. Never to threaten. Only to warn. When I recovered this, it was to save it. A large band of some thieves or others had learned what it is and to whom it belongs. Should it have fallen into their hands, it would quickly be sold and stolen again to be sold once more. Once they were rich enough, I assume they would summon its owner."
Gilli ground her teeth angrily, even as she knew this anger was misdirected.
"Tread cautiously, Wizard. You know what I am capable off. Don't push me. If you seek to reclaim Erebor you will do it without me or find a damn good incentive to motivate me otherwise. And give back what is mine," she bit out, snatching for the necklace again. This time he let her have it. She carelessly tucked it into her bosom, readjusting her chest so as to conceal the pendant between her bound breasts.
"A darkness is spreading from the south," the wizard told her. "I fear too soon it will become uncontainable and when that day comes I dread the thought that your people will fall its first victims. Your folk are powerful, Gilli. As much so as the Elves are. Powerful as Elves, proud as Dwarves and on the whole, peaceful as Hobbits. But you are not immune to the dangers of land, nor are you untouchable in your caves. And should your people succumb to the rising darkness, I fear the end would be upon us all in a quarter of the time it would take without you. Erebor and its Dwarves is a force to be reckoned with; a force we need if we are to prevail. For that we need your help, Gilli. No creature that knows Middle-Earth as well as you I can trust. They are too susceptible to the greed the Lonely Mountain would awaken within them, a danger I cannot risk. If we are to make it there fifteen and whole, we need your skill."
"Should they take the Mountain and slay Smaug if the beast still sleeps within, every creature, foul and pure, would turn their eyes to it. Reclaiming the Mountain will only be half a battle; the rest would be to hold it."
Gandalf smiled with satisfaction and said, "You are a smart one, Miss Gilli, and perceptive equally."
Gilli shrugged. "Yes, well, is that not why you approached me in the first place? If you are only now coming to this conclusion then Master Gandalf, I stand insulted," she supplied lightheartedly, drawing a chuckle from the Wizard. He sobered quickly, though.
"Think on it for the night. We will be staying at the inn and move out at dawn. Meet us there or do not. The choice is yours entirely, but we will fare much better with you at our head, Miss Gilli. Your people are worth the effort, regardless what they have done to you."
"The matter is not with history and hurt feelings, Gandalf," Gilli told him softly. "I only cannot afford this trip. I charge fairly, Master Wizard; what I charged in there is such because I cannot afford the time nor the money spent on your journey. I am not alone. And the only other reason I'd be willing to help them for I was denied like an insolent child asking for more sweets than is due. My best, Master Gandalf. Good night," she told him, shoving off the wall and walking into the street, walking in the redirection of where she lived.
The Wizard followed her for a few feet, but stopped at the bakery corner; instead calling out, "Think on it still, Gilli Waters. He may have refused, but I may yet convince him to find the moonstone for you. Good night to you as well."
~{VVV|o0o|VVV}~
"Mama!"
Gilli was tackled to the hardwood floor having only crossed the threshold of the house moments before, losing balance and landing hard on her hind, but it didn't hurt. She wrapped one arm around the boy, her free hand ruffling his hair, fingers playing through the dark stresses that were so remarkably hers.
"Get off, kid: you're crushing me!" She laughed heartily. Bae leaned back with a wide smile on his face, bracing on his arms and allowing Gilli to take a deep breath. "I thought I told you not to stay up waiting for me? Why are you not in bed?"
"Uncle said that I could wait for you to come back if I lay in bed real quiet. But my tummy started aching and I went in the kitchen to see if I could eat something. I'm hungry, mama," he pouted, and her heart broke a little more. "Can I eat something else?"
"Only a little. Don't want us lot to be hungry tomorrow morning, aye?"
"Aye," the boy agreed eagerly, beaming at her. "Thank you, Mama!" He got up and ran the ten steps to the kitchen. Gilli got up from the floor and dusted herself off.
"Sorry, kid. He had me there."
Gilli looked up at the bedroom door. Finn stood in the archway, leaning on the frame casually with his arms crossed. His white shift, large and baggy on the arms and torso, was wrinkled. "He did the puppy eyes."
"You were always hopeless against the puppy eyes, Finn. You know he will only stop once you stop reacting, right? He'll be twenty and you'll still be feeding him sweets before bedtime at this rate," she told him.
"Well what can you expect, kid? You're his mother, not me," he reminded her with a shrug. Gilli shook her head, coming to lean across from him in the narrow archway, their feet touching at the toes, and crossed her arms also. "How did it go?"
Gilli heaved a tired sigh and shook her head: "They can't afford me, Finn," she admitted sardonically. "They look like bums and scavengers as it is. What little money they have on them they need more than we do. I will not take from them that which they already lack, we can get by by out own."
"And the stone?" Finn asked, again Gilli shook her head in resignation.
"He thinks I'm after some precious jewel of immense power, thinks I look to steal it from its rightful owner and use it with the greed of Men."
"Well, he's not wrong about that first part," Finn supplied tiredly.
"No, he's not, which is exactly why he refused." She let a pregnant pause fall, let Finn maul this over and accept before speaking again. "They were Dwarfs, Finn. They were out last hope."
"You could have guided them and taken the money after taking them wherever the hell they wanted you to take them," Finn told her, his voice almost angry. "Why do you have to be so firm about half up front?"
"Because they are Dwarves, Finn. Because their greed is as notorious as the fornicating habit of our people, as notorious as the vanity of Elves and as notorious as the violence of Orcs. Because they wouldn't pay me a single Copper. They'd kill me sooner than part with a handful of the gold their precious Mountain already have too much of." She sighed heavily, resting her head back against the wooden frame and closing her eyes. She was greatful he hadn't questioned 'the Mountain'.
"… Because taking their money would mean taking what little we have and leaving here, Finn. And I don't want to leave to settle in some new town and start over again. Taking their money would mean I gave up, and if I give up… I don't want their money, Finn. I want mama, and my brothers and sisters, and I want my pod and I want my son to be safe. I'm tired of always running from place to place like a homeless man. I miss my family, I miss my people. I want to go home."
Her voice cracked and Finn pulled her into his large arms, holding her fast as she sobbed, his chin resting on the crown of her head.
"I know, ma'na," he whispered, kissing her hair and tightening his hold around her as she shook with tears. "I know. I miss mama, too."
"They were our last hope, Finn," she sobbed quietly, whispering the words, lest her son heard. "I left them no choice but to pay with favor. It's just a stupid little rock to them, Finn, and they refused. We will never find it and my son will never know his people."
Finn ran his hands over her back in comfort. "You mustn't despair, ma'na. We will find the moonstone, one way or another. I promise. It's just going to take a little longer. You must go to them, lead them wherever they will go, and maybe they will see that you truly need it. They can't be so evil as to deny you a way back to your family. The Dwarf kind lost their home. They will understand if you explain. And if not, we will need the money to keep searching ourselves."
Gilli swallowed her pride, a tangible lump in her throat, because he was right. It had hurt, the way that brooding Dwarf King had looked down at her despite lacking an entire head's worth of height. Even as a boy, his scrutiny was still a slap in the face. She couldn't imagine what would have been had she not traveled as a man but as the woman she was. Finn was right. Of course Finn was right. The Dwarves could not all be so insensitive; at least one would understand if she explained why she needed it. They did lose their home, and now on a quest to retake it from the claws of a dragon, their situations were much the same. At least one was bound to sympathize to her, to help—to at least give her guidance. Thirteen Dwarves and a wizard who might fight to convince them to pay in favor.
It was more hope than the three have had in twelve years of searching and fourteen years of exile.
Gilli straightened up and wiped her face to dry her tears, her eyes hurting from the salt, and nodded.
"You're right," she said. "You're right. I should go with them. If nothing else, we really do need the money, and business has been slow. Will you be all right without me?"
"Must you ask every time?" Finn asked, sounding offended. "It is not the first time you vanish for weeks," he smirked reassuringly.
"Yes, it is not. It is, however, the first time I will be gone for a year at least."
This snapped Finn rigid. The older man looked at her with wide eyes. "A year?" he asked, almost stuttering over his words in shock. "Surely you are mistaken. You can't be gone for four seasons, Gilli. Where in Middle-Earth are you going?"
"To the end of it, I would think," she told him, hugging him again and resting her head comfortably on his wide chest. "It would take until the end of autumn to get there. It will be the dawn of winter by the time I turn back. That journey would take even longer, especially when the ice and snow begins melting. Yes, a year at least."
Instinctively, Finn hugged her to his chest, so tight she could hardly take a breath.
"Then I bid you be safe, ma'na. Be safe and vigil and come back whole in four seasons' time. Come with gold or with the moonstone, but return in a year's time. Promise me I will see you then," he urged insistently.
"I will, me'ne. I promise," she vowed softly.
"You're leaving, Mama?" Gilli opened her eyes lazily, smiling sadly at her small boy and nodded.
"I have to go help some Dwarves. Do you remember Dwarves? We saw three some years ago. You remember?" The boy nodded. "I will be going far, and for long, but I promise I will come back, my love."
The boy rushed into her arms, wrapping his own tightly around her middle, nudged between her and Finn. "I don't want you to leave me again, Mama! You always leave me and uncle alone! You say it's for work but you always leave, and when you come back we all have to move. I don't want you to go! I don't want you to leave me, and I don't want to leave here. I like it here. It's okay, you don't have to work. I will work in the stables, or the bakery, or the farm; I'll earn enough money so that you don't have to go, but please don't leave us, Mama," the boy pleaded and once more his mother's heart broke for his words.
Gilli ran her hands comfortingly on down his back, having left Finn's embrace to hug her son.
"I know you don't want me to leave, my love; no more do I wish to leave you. I'm sorry I must. But these Dwarves might help us go home. I need their help as much as they need mine." She knelt before him, looking up at his face that was so much like her own, with her dark hair and dark eyes and wide forehead. She brushed his bangs from his eyes tenderly. "They lost their home to an evil dragon; they have it worse than us. If we want to go home, just us three; can you imagine hundreds of them? Three thousand? More, even?"
"I don't want to go home; you do! I want to stay here. This is home. This is where my friends are and where uncle's job is and… and what you want is just a story you used to tell me for bedtime. I don't want a story, I want this, and I want you, Mama, and you're leaving, and I don't know when you'll come back, if you come back, if you'll be all right and… please don't leave me, Mama! Please don't leave!"
He broke down into a fit of tears, hugging her and holding her so tight one would think she would disappear if he let her go. One would think right.
She kissed his hair lovingly.
"I know you like it here, my love. But here is not safe. Here people will always be suspicious, and if they will find out what you are they will try to take you from me. They will want to take you and hurt you, because people are greedy and selfish. They can't be trusted. Not with this, not with us. That's why mama has to leave, my love: so that you can be safe from people like that."
Bae sobbed and hugged her tighter. She let him stay until the boy fell asleep in her arms and then, with Finn's help, laid him to bed. They left the bedroom the three shared to speak in the kitchen.
"When are you going?"
"At dawn the Wizard said they would embark from the inn," she said as she packed things into two saddlebags and a carry-on pack. "I will meet them one half an hourglass turn sooner." He looked at her solemnly as she packed, dashing about the house hastily for basic necessary items, which in truth were many. She paused at the small kitchen table and looked at him with a sad smile.
"I will write," she promised. "I will send Saezae to you every fortnight with news of my travels. You needn't worry, me'ne," she assured him, placing a loving hand on his forearm. His covered her fingers with his own and squeezed tightly.
"I hate being part from you for so long. Weeks on end are bad enough. I don't know how to take a year without you, raising Bae on my own. I am no father; not to that boy, not to you nor anybody else, Gilli."
Gilli smiled at him compassionately and placed her other hand over his, squeezing it much like he has done with her. "You will not fail, me'ne. I have every confidence you will raise him well and honorably. I only wish I didn't have to miss his fourteenth year."
"When we return home you will spent every one of his years with him," Finn promised her. Gilli pursed her lips, the lump of tears in her throat so thick that it stung.
She held those words in her mind, held them as tight as she held her big brother, and made them her mantra. She vowed that, should she ever lose hope on this journey, she would remember them, and she would force her feet one before the other even in her deepest despair.
She slept restlessly that night, and only for a handful of hours. An hour before dawn broke she untangled herself from Finn on the narrow straw mistress, kissed both him and her son on the hairline and touched her forehead to theirs traditionally. She didn't say goodbye—she couldn't. Then she took her things, saddled her horse, fed Saezae and set out to find the inn on the other side of the town, turning around one last time to watch the house sleep in the wee hours of the morning.
"I will bring us home," Gilli vowed and, with that, tucked her long braid into her hat and went to find the company of fifteen.
