"I didn't order food."
Dark eyes look up at me, his voice deep and his words short. I flush slightly as I hold the tray up, holding it like a shield in front of me, having placed a bowl of warm soup and a platter on the table before him.
"I know, sir. It's just that you always order this every time you come in, and you looked so deep in thought that I thought maybe I should just bring it to you." I can feel my face heating up, turning red, as the dark-haired dwarf, hair slightly streaked with grey, looks up at me. "If you don't want it, sir, I can take it back to the kitchens – "
"No." He cuts me short, shaking his head slightly. "No, I'll eat it. Thank you, Mistress – ?"
"Luna Silverstone, sir."
"Mistress Silverstone." He nods at me, briefly, before turning to his food.
As I hurry away, I hope he doesn't think it's on the house.
I dash around the tavern, carrying more tankards of ale and taking more orders, my eyes flicking towards the dark figure sitting in the corner every so often.
I do not know his name, do not know who he is, but the dark-haired dwarf always comes in alone, always chooses to sit in the corner by himself. He ventures into The Grey Badger maybe once a week, casts glares around until someone finally comes to take his order. Usually, it is always me – Juliet and Jasmine have grown too frightened of his dark glance and gruff voice, and are afraid of the fact that he is a dwarf.
Which is, to me, quite ridiculous, but I choose not to voice my opinion.
Finally, after a few hours, the crowd lessens as the men leave to return to their wives – it is a weekday, after all – and I have just finished clearing a table nearby the dark-haired dwarf when he says, "Sit with me."
I look up, blink and glance around, but there is nobody else except me.
"Yes, Mistress Silverstone, I am speaking to you." He chuckles, just slightly, and I know I am blushing furiously.
"Just a moment, sir."
I hurriedly wash and keep the plates and tankards, before returning to the corner, sitting cautiously on a chair opposite him.
"I want to thank you again," he says, "for the food."
Please do not think it's on the house. Julian will slaughter me.
I am unable to hide the sigh of relief as he slides the money over, causing him to smile, slightly, beneath his dark beard.
"Have you worked here for very long, Mistress Silverstone?"
"Since I was eleven, sir. Eight years. Started out in the kitchens until I grew old enough to actually help out."
"Eleven?"
There is slight surprise in his voice.
"I've no family, sir. I was brought to Julian when I was eight and he raised me with his children, until he thought I was old enough to start working."
"I am sorry for your loss."
"Everyone loses their family sometime or another, sir. I just happened to lose mine earlier than most."
The truth is, I can hardly remember my parents, my laughing younger brother, my lovely older sisters. I have been part of Julian's family for so long that it is difficult to remember a family before his.
He regards me for a long moment.
"You sound wise, Mistress Silverstone."
"Not wise, sir, just practical." I can feel myself blushing again. "And, sir, please call me Luna. Nobody calls me Mistress Silverstone."
He looks at me, his dark eyes boring into mine, and nods, slowly. "Luna, then. You are to call me Thorin Oakenshield instead of sir."
From his voice, I can tell that he is used to giving orders and having them followed.
I merely shrug, my stubborn pride not letting me agree to his demand straightaway, another side of me reminding me that I'm not allowed to make the clients angry.
His lips twist into the faintest of smiles, and he pushes himself up to his feet.
"Until next time, Luna."
And so it goes every week.
Every week I see him enter the tavern, see him sit at the same table, bring him the same food and a tankard of ale. Every week, after most of the clients have left, he bids me to sit down with him, and so I do, talking and talking until he has to leave.
Julian notices, but chooses not to say anything for he believes there is little to say. His daughters, Juliet and Jasmine, are another matter entirely, but having grown up with me, they keep their opinions to themselves. They do not understand how I can sit with this moody, bad-tempered, dark-haired dwarf week after week.
On my part, I do not understand how they cannot.
I have little to tell him of my life, and he chooses not to divulge his own past, so instead we talk about anything and everything. We talk of ale, of food, of songs, of dances, of weapons, of dresses, of stars shining in a night sky, of the sun slowly creeping over the horizon.
I learn that he does not eat much, despite the fact that he is a dwarf, and he learns that once food is passed to me, I never stop eating. I learn that he likes fast songs, quick songs, that are easy to dance to, though he also has a healthy respect for slow songs and slow dances, and he learns that as long as there is a song playing, I am usually one of the first on my feet to dance. I learn that he prefers to use a sword over any other weapon, and he learns that I keep a dagger on me always, a dagger I have no idea how to use. I learn that he has little use for fancy outfits and prefers to be in his travelling clothes at all times, and he learns that though I like the dresses and trousers and shirts that I wear every day, I dream of a beautiful white gown made of silk. I learn that he thinks the most beautiful view in the world is that of the moon and stars glittering in the dark velvet of a night sky, and he learns that I love the sun rising over the horizon, pulsing red and orange and yellow.
I learn that it is not so difficult to make him smile, after all, and soon I am waiting for him to come into the tavern every week.
One day, he comes in later than usual, tells me he only wants an ale, that he has no appetite.
"I do not think I shall be coming back," he tells me, gesturing for me to sit down with him once I have brought him his tankard.
"Not coming back?"
Thorin shakes his head, gulps down his ale.
"I have a journey to make," he says. "A journey that if successful, means that I shall have a new home, a home far, far away from The Grey Badger. And should it fail, means that I no longer breathe."
I sit silently for a moment, looking down, twisting my skirt in my hands.
"And you will not tell me what this journey is?" I say, aware that my voice is cracking.
He shakes his head. "I cannot."
Somehow, I manage to dredge up a smile. "I shall miss our conversations."
"As will I." He gives me a long look, as if trying to decide something, and I look back at him, blinking.
Finally he finishes his ale, pushes the chair back.
"Hopefully our paths shall cross one day," I tell him, trying to keep the smile on my face. I will miss him, I know, I will miss him coming in every week with a fierce scowl on his face, I will miss bringing him his food and his ale, I will miss waiting for the tavern to clear so that I can sit down and talk to him until he has to leave.
"I shall keep that hope in my heart," he says, getting to his feet. "I must go – I stopped only to say goodbye."
"Not for the ale?" I say, and this time my smile is real.
"Not for the ale," he says, smiling back at me.
"I suppose that this is goodbye, Master Thorin." I make a small curtsey, awkwardly, aware that despite his being a dwarf I am still a good deal shorter than him.
"Goodbye, Mistress Silverstone." He bows, slightly, then straightens; and then, quickly, he takes my hand, brushes his lips over it, and backs out of the tavern hurriedly.
I stand there for a long moment, my hand still in front of me, my eyes on the door.
"You are listless, Luna," Juliet says to me a few days later, as we are in the kitchens, scrubbing at plates. Usually there is always one of us out at the bar, but now that Jasmine is older, Julian trusts that she can manage without one of us at the bar.
Of course, Julian and his wife, Marissa, are there to keep an eye on her.
"Listless?" I say, drying a bowl and placing it on the rack.
"Yes, listless," Juliet says. She is twenty, only a year older than me, but being closer to her age than to Jasmine's, we have always found it easy to talk to each other. "Ever since your last conversation with the dwarf."
I turn my head, concentrate on drying the cutlery in my hand.
"It is nothing," I say, refusing to look at her. "I'm merely a little upset that he is no longer returning. Our talks were always interesting."
"Yes, it was hard to catch your attention whenever the two of you started talking," Juliet tells me, and I ignore the questioning undertone in her statement.
I laugh. "Give me a few more days to get over the fact that I shall no longer have amusing conversations with him every week, and I shall be fine again."
"I hope so. I need someone to talk to properly. All Jasmine can talk about is Loys Rostrer!"
We both laugh.
But I know, I know, that it will take me more than a few days to get over this empty feeling in me. It feels as if my heart is missing something; a hole I did not know exist, that had been filled up by Thorin Oakenshield, and that is aching now that he is gone. I cannot understand it.
I can only think that it was because I had few people to talk to apart from Julian and his family, and that Thorin is – was – the only person outside of this small group who actually knew me and I him, and now he is gone.
"Juliet! Luna!" Suddenly Jasmine peers in through the kitchen doorway, her face shining. "Guess who is here! It is Gandalf! Gandalf the Grey!"
Juliet and I exchange looks; and in a moment we are up on our feet, drying our hands, rushing out the door.
A tall, familiar man is seated on a stool at the bar, talking to Julian and Marissa.
"Gandalf!" I do not even think; I hurry out from behind the bar and fling my arms around him.
He laughs, spins me around. "How are you, Luna?"
I can only beam at him, and the empty feeling that has been in my heart lifts slightly. I have not seen Gandalf for months, not since the last time he passed this way, and I am happy to see him again. It was him who found me all those years ago, wandering the woods alone at night, the memory of my family's dead bodies fresh in my mind. It was him who found the silver stone strung around my neck on a silver chain, and gave me 'Silverstone' as a surname once he realised I only knew my first name. It was him who saved me, who gave me to Julian's family to raise me.
I am forever in his debt.
"Oh, nothing changes around here, Gandalf," I tell him, and he smiles, chuckling. I push away the emptiness that is suddenly filling my heart again; for yes, something did change, something wonderful, and now it is gone.
"So, what are you doing in this area at this time, Gandalf?" Julian asks him as we seat ourselves around him.
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," he says. "Minding my own business, you know." But his eyes sparkle, and we all know he has been doing anything but.
"But actually, I came here for a specific reason," he says, suddenly, his voice turning serious.
Julian eyes him warily. "What would that be?"
"I came to ask – " And here he turns to me " – if Mistress Silverstone would like to go on an adventure."
We all blink at him, unsure if we are hearing him correctly.
"Excuse me?" Marissa says.
He nods. "Yes. I know that you have cared for and raised Mistress Silverstone as if she were your own child. But the truth is that she is not." He turns and looks at me, sadly. "I have seen you grow, my dear, from that frightened little girl to an adventurous and rebellious teenager, one always willing to take risks, to the young woman before me, who still has much to offer. And so I would like to take Miss Silverstone on this adventure, if she would like to come."
There is silence for a long moment, all of us looking at Gandalf.
I am not sure what to think.
Finally Julian turns to me.
"He is right, Luna," he says to me, smiling sadly. "We have raised you up – but you are not our own. It is your own decision to make. We will accept whatever choice you make."
I sit silently, staring at Gandalf before me.
I know that if I stay on at The Grey Badger, I will continue working as a barmaid, continue until I marry or die a spinster. And I know that if I marry, it will almost certainly be someone from the town, and I will have to bear my husband children and watch them grow, and forever stay in this town.
But if I leave?
If I leave, I will be leaving everything I know behind me. I will be leaving Julian, and Marissa, and Juliet and Jasmine.
But, I think, they all have their own lives to live as well.
"Gandalf," I say, "will I return from this journey?"
He looks at me, a long, slow look.
"I cannot promise anything."
I close my eyes, think for a long, long moment.
I think of The Grey Badger, the flickering fireplace, Juliet and Jasmine, Julian and Marissa.
I think of Thorin Oakenshield, going off on his journey, watching the moon and the stars in the night sky, staying in his travelling clothes, raising a sword to defend himself, eating little, hopefully having the chance to listen to music.
I think of how there is a world out there, a world waiting to be discovered, and that there is little for me here – only safety and shelter.
I look up at Gandalf.
"I shall go with you," I say.