Chapter Three: Ascension
In the end, the delay was less than he'd feared.
By happy chance, another BSAA Tudor IV was already prepped and ready to leave the Kindley Field aerodrome.
And even now – it was waiting for him.
Waiting for him to take some sleep and recuperate from the long flight from Heathrow. His new crew and passengers would take off the next day – and complete the flight's final leg – chasing the sun all the way to Jamaica.
McPhee had a whole day to sleep off his cares in the salty air of the island's grandest hotel, and before he took some rest, he decided to have a beer in the hotel bar. Maybe a cold, crisp lager would shake the feeling of doom that hung around his neck, stiffening his shoulders and sapping the heat from the warm, tropical sunshine.
"John, hi!"
At his name, the blond airman spun round – and saw the smiling woman standing right behind him, her red lipstick rimming the dazzling, white teeth and her flawless, creamy complexion.
"Jude – how are you? What are you doing here?"
The Stargirl winked at him.
"I'm waiting for you, John. I'll be going all the way with you later on." Her voice was like honey, dripping down the corners of her scarlet mouth and glistening on her cut-glass, Home-Counties accent.
Her grey eyes fixed him with a stare, and rolled in scorn.
"All the way back to Kingston, that is."
McPhee watched her red lips purse and pout, and took a hurried sip of his beer.
Judith Moxon certainly was one of England's finest. A former WRN Cypher Officer during the war, she'd worked with the USN and the Royal Navy to defend merchant ships crossing the Atlantic. She was the bravest woman on the BSAA books. And the prettiest of all their stewardesses.
McPhee thought that she alone deserved their 'Stargirl' moniker.
"I heard about that. Bit out of the way, isn't it?"
"I wanted to be on the flight with the New York bankers, Johnny. You know how Uncle Sam likes to flash the cash in old London town." She took a casual sip from her Martini glass. "Anyone worth looking at flying out to Jamaica?"
McPhee considered. He'd caught a glimpse of the passengers at Heathrow, when he'd welcomed them on with the rest of the crew. There'd been several young men – handsome and courteous. But that wasn't really what attracted Judith to a man.
"I doubt they were your type, Jude. Too young and green. No illicit fortunes made in shady oil deals."
His friend shrugged her shoulders and tipped some more Martini down her throat.
"I hate it when this happens. Hey – what's the story with the Star Lion? I heard she blew out way past the Azores? Must've been hairy."
McPhee felt a sudden tightness in his throat at the mention of his plane. But he doubted Judith would understand. He washed the feeling down with a good gulp of lager, trying to keep his hand from suddenly shaking.
"There's four engines, Jude – we were never in any danger. It's just, you know. After last year."
The smile vanished from Judith Moxon's red lips, and she stared at the floor.
"My friend, Shiela – she was on that plane. With that blonde girl – the other ex-Wren." She took a large sip of her drink. "I think about it sometimes, how it could have been me."
She scanned the bar with her cold, grey eyes, and turned back to her friend.
"It could have been any of us," she whispered.
"Jude..." McPhee wanted to say something to her, something that would comfort her, but all he could think of was the shadow of the missing plane, and how it cast a cloud on every flight they took.
Like they were cursed.
"Jude, accidents happen. But lightning doesn't strike twice. What happened to them was just bad luck."
The stewardess smiled thinly and nodded her head.
"I know, you're right. I tell myself all the time. We're perfectly safe up there, in the air. I mean, the war's been over four years!"
She downed her drink and slammed her glass onto the bar.
"I'm going to bed now, Johnny. I'd invite you to join me... but we both know how that worked out."
McPhee smiled sadly, and raised his pint in homage to bad decisions long since passed.
"Get some rest, Jude. I'll see you tomorrow."
The Stargirl smiled, and blew him a kiss.
"Aye aye, Captain."
McPhee stared – her violent beauty startling him again for a second – before he came back to earth with a crash.
He realised he didn't know which plane he'd been assigned, now his Star Lion was out of action.
"Oh – Jude. You know what plane I'm taking out west?"
His old flame didn't turn her head round, but he heard her soft murmur regardless.
"It's the Star Ariel, darling. Our favourite."
And McPhee watched her walk out of the bar with her aggressive sashay, and felt a sadness wash through him. One that the beer alone could never take away.
In the darkness, with the curtain closed on the waking world, Sigrid saw a strange scene unfold.
She was sat in a darkened room, on a seat made of crushed velvet – beholding a screen of light that flashed and flickered like a magic mirror.
There were shapes and images on the screen. But no sound. And no colour.
And while the others in the dream – she didn't see their faces – watched calm and serene, she found herself growing agitated at the pictures formed by the shifting lights.
A great bird – stiff and metallic – was flying through a cloudless sky.
She watched it arc into the air on a set of puny wheels without flapping its wings, and gasped in amazement as it rose higher over a rocky, arid landscape – seemingly graceful in defiance of the laws of gravity.
A murmur grew in the darkened room around her, and she felt the interest of her fellow watchers in the dark – they whispered in approving tones and some pointed to the moving pictures, whispering and discussing some alien aspect of the bird's flight that was lost on Sigrid.
But she noticed something.
A smell, chemical and sharp, floated around the room, unseen and ignored.
Sigrid stood up, sensing something was wrong – and then she saw the flames.
They started on the edge of the moving pictures, burning the flickering images as it they were paper, while the others in the room continued their soft chatter.
She tried to shout, but her voice was silent. No matter how hard she screamed for their attention, no words came out – and the people continued to ignore her.
Desperate, she turned back to the burning screen, and saw the bird was gone.
Instead, she saw a familiar face – in colour this time – and watched in horror as the blue of his eyes was scorched to black as the roll of fire took hold of the melting vision.
And as her silent scream built up, the flames filled the room – and before the darkness returned she thought she heard a question on the wind, from far away.
As dry and lifeless as the poison fumes around her...
"MRX, do you copy? Over..."
It was the chill, grey dawn that woke her first – although wrapped between the thick cloak and blond dwarf, she was warm enough.
There was a silence in the air that had come from her sleep, and she slowly opened her eyes to see the misty morning twilight filtering through the bare trees. All was still, and all was silent.
There were no bird calls. No rabbits rustling in the bushes as they champed the grasses. No insects drifting past on the shadowy air.
All was as silent as the tomb she lay on with her lover.
She didn't want to move, even though her arm had gone numb where she lay on it. If she moved – she knew she'd wake him. And once he woke, she had the horrible feeling that he'd leave her, and she'd be missing him for far too long.
But as she swept her eyes over him, she saw he was already awake, and staring straight at her – his face wearing a serious, sorrowful smile as her eyes met his.
"Hello, Sigrid." His words were a whisper, and in his sadness she heard her worst fears coming true.
"Fili," she kissed him gently on his lips in greeting, wondering how long it would be before he left. "You're awake."
He nodded, casting his blue eyes around the dreary morning scene. "I had a dream about you."
She smiled at him, thinking he must have spent the whole night reliving their joyful consummation. And passed a better night than her.
But then she saw his face, and her smile dropped.
He looked like he was on the verge of tears.
"You were crying, Sigrid. And I couldn't help you."
She pulled herself semi-upright, and held on to him tight, watching in concern as he closed his eyes and grimaced. "I was too far away, and I couldn't find you."
She kissed his forehead, feeling her light-hearted joys leaving her at once. The uneasy, creeping feeling – as if something out of sight was watching them – stalking them as they went about their lives trying to find and hold onto some simple happiness – was back. Maybe it had never fully gone, and she'd just been too wrapped up in the moment to realise.
But she knew now. Her instincts were screaming at her.
"Fili, I don't want you to go. Not today. Please."
She saw his eyes open and watch her again, and she stared at him in earnest. "Just wait a day or two. And stay here with me. What difference will it make to anything?"
She watched his face crease up, and she knew he was struggling to decide. Trying to work out who he should disappoint. And she hated herself for it.
But not as much as she feared the thought of his departure.
"It was just a dream, Sigrid – forgive me. It's just dwarfish superstition. I shouldn't be worrying you with these things."
She eyed him slowly. "What things?"
He was silent for a moment, reaching for the right words to explain. But in the end, he just shook his head.
"I had a bad feeling. About leaving here. About leaving you. I want to stay here, and not move from your side. Believe me."
She saw the desperation in his eyes, and it scared her more than her own premonitions.
"Then stay, Fili! Help us put up some shelters – help us try and salvage our boats. Stay here tonight and don't let me go."
He took a deep breath, as if considering her offer. But he sighed half way through, and her heart sank.
"I can't. You know I can't." He opened his eyes and she saw his eyes were teary. "Don't make this any harder, please."
She nodded, beaten at once. "I'm sorry."
But he sat up beside her, and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Don't be sorry."
She stared at him, her eyes pleading. "Come back and see me soon, Fili. Don't let your uncle send you on some idiot mission and forget all about me."
He chuckled bitterly. "Impossible."
She looked over at him, and felt a rush of feeling overwhelm her.
"I love you, Fili. I'd wait forever for you. Just... come back safe."
He kissed her again on the cheek, his face serious.
"I've been waiting for you all my life, Sigrid – and I'm done now. I love you. I want you to be mine."
She felt her need for him growing desperate. And with a groan, she pushed him against the ground, and kissed him greedily – ignoring the chaffing of his beard against her cheeks, and the chill air falling on her bare shoulders.
And then wordlessly, the pair of them stood on the nameless grave, and began their sombre journey back to the beach.
Down by the waterline, the mist was thicker.
It muffled the sounds of the gentle waves lapping on the shoreline, and cloaked the small, forlorn figures waiting on the shingle with a grey veil. Surrounded by the frenetic bustle of the Laketown encampment, now on the move – the three dwarves were almost invisible.
Two stood readying the boat, trying to ignore their younger, fool-hearted friend's inadvisable dealings with the she-elf.
The odd pair stood close to the woods – their hands entwined in some lovers' tryst – whispering their sweet-hearted promises to each other while the vain, pretty elf prince glowered over from the trees.
Evidently there was something that both their peoples could agree on – this conduct was nothing short of scandalous. It was a lucky thing that Thorin wasn't here to witness such a spectacle, or there was a good chance that one of his polished steel blades might end up buried in someone's head. And seeing how the she-elf had fought against the spiders – it might have well been his own.
But at least Kili had the good sense to stick with his companions on the beach – even if they had found him lying beside the red-haired temptress at daybreak. There was no sign of his older brother – although suspicions had naturally arisen.
They'd all seen the way their blond prince had looked at Bard's daughter, and the affection was obviously mutual. Although they would have expected the young heir to the throne to have a bit more sense than go courting a woman – whose hearts were seldom true and almost never constant.
They would fall for each other – for a time – and then before Fili was yet of age to respectably marry and father heirs, she would lose interest and turn to another. It was an old story, and a predictable one. For the hearts of women waxed and waned like the moon, and were a dangerous place for a dwarf to entrust his rock-solid loyalties.
If Fili chose Sigrid as his heart's home, then trouble could only come following. Maybe not as spectacularly as for his reckless, madcap brother – but it would come knocking on his door, as sure as the stars shone bright in the night-time sky.
Bofur and Oin finished loading the last of their gear into the small rowing boat, scanning the tree line for signs of their errant friend.
"He'll be here soon," Bofur leaned against the boat, cheerily watching the look of malevolence on the face of the elven prince. "The lad's got some sense on him."
Beside him, the white-haired dwarf frowned in worry. "Not if he's cavorting off with a woman he hasn't. Thorin won't take it well. And as for them..." The healer regarded Kili and his flame-haired vixen sourly. "The less that's said the better."
Bofur took off his floppy-brimmed hat, and scratched at his head, staring after the odd couple fondly.
"She does have a certain appeal. And full marks to Kili for winding up Lord Snooty over there. Maybe he's just taking one for the team?"
His elderly friend chuckled nervously. "It's what he'll be getting when his uncle finds out that's the problem."
Bofur shrugged and produced his smoking pipe, gazing placidly at the water.
"Aye well, you're only young once. And Thorin won't be hearing a peep out of me on this. I'm staying well clear of it."
As a sudden movement from the shady woods caught his eyes, the dwarf replaced his hat and waved. "Look, here's the other one now. We might get there by noon yet."
Oin turned back to the shore, and saw Fili shuffle out from the shrubbery, his hand enclosed around the woman Sigrid's.
Seeing his friends stare through the clearing mists, the blond haired prince nodded in acknowledgement. There was despondency in his movements – and he turned immediately back to the young woman.
In front of them all, he took her face in his hands and kissed her – until his ever-patient companions didn't know where to look.
They stared at the beach, and the water, waiting some time until he managed to part himself from the woman. Until, with a sad backwards glance, he set off for the rowing boat, calling to his brother.
"Come on, Kili. The boat's ready."
The dark-haired dwarf dismissed himself from his own companion with equal reluctance, unwilling to go so soon but unable to delay their departure any longer.
And so the two brothers reached the boat, and climbed aboard, waving for a final time to the two left on the beach.
And as they sailed into the misty lake waters, and disappeared from view, those two stared after them, watching them vanish into the hidden air.
As if they'd never been there at all.