Amrûn deposited the unconscious hobbit in his armchair, Gandalf joining her as she knelt at Bilbo's side. The dwarves gathered in the doorway, expressions concerned or annoyed in equal measure. "Will he be alright, Gandalf?" Bofur called, looking worried. Amrûn gripped Bilbo's wrist, the pulse quick and strong beneath her fingers, then nodded to Gandalf.
"Just nerves, nothing serious," Gandalf replied, gaining a few relieved sighs from the dwarves. "A warm drink might calm his nerves, I believe. Dori, is there any more of that chamomile left?"
As the grey-haired dwarf bustled away to the kitchen, Gandalf slipped a vial from the folds of his robe and passed it to Amrûn. She accepted it, dark brows furrowed. "Isn't this a little strong for a simple fainting spell?" she murmured, the golden liquid within sloshing as she surveyed the familiar bottle.
"A whiff won't hurt him, little crow," Gandalf said, unconcerned by the glare he received at the hated pet name. Amrûn sighed and uncapped the bottle, her stomach twisting unpleasantly at the strong smell. Nose wrinkled, she held the bottle under Bilbo's nose, jerking it away when he awoke, coughing.
"Yes, coming! I-oh," he started, cutting himself off when he saw Gandalf and Amrûn leaning over him. "So you are here, then."
"Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Baggins," Amrun said. She was unable to restrain a mischievous grin when the hobbit flushed to the tips of his ears and started stuttering apologies.
"Amrûn, I think Bilbo has had enough excitement tonight, don't you? Thank you, Dori," Gandalf cut in, taking a cup of tea from the tray Dori carried and giving it to Bilbo, who accepted it gratefully. Amrûn had picked up the contract and was reading it over at Bilbo's desk when a second mug was offered to her. Blinking in surprise, she accepted the fragrant tea from Dori.
"It's a bad night to be traveling, Lady Amrûn. Wouldn't want you catching cold before the journey even began, would we?" he said, smiling. Gandalf had to chuckle at the baffled expression on Amrûn's face; it was a rare sight to see his friend caught off guard.
Regaining her wits, Amrûn thanked Dori for the tea and turned her attention back to the contract. She found pen and ink resting on Bilbo's desk and, with a resigned sigh, scribbled her signature just below where Bilbo's would go.
"Well, that was a lovely surprise! And here I was expecting to be turned away as soon as I stepped in the door," she said, depositing the contract on the small footstool before Bilbo. "How are you feeling, Mr. Baggins?"
Startled, Bilbo's gaze shifted between Amrûn and the contract before answering, "Fine, fine. I'll be alright, just let me sit quietly for a moment."
"You've been sitting quietly for far too long!" Gandalf scolded. "Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you?"
Amrûn took her leave, abandoning Bilbo to his lecture (and seven hells, Gandalf could lecture like no one else.) Ducking into the hallway, she met Thorin's gaze. He and Balin had been engaged in quiet discussion when she had slipped out of the study, and at Thorin's silence the white-haired dwarf turned to look at her. "Made a decision yet, lassie?" Balin asked.
Amrûn blinked, looking from Thorin to Balin. "Everything seemed to be in order, Master Balin. I left the contract with Mr. Baggins, but I don't know what he plans to do yet," she said, half-listening to the conversation in the study. Why was Gandalf talking about golf, of all things?"
"You're not obligated to come. It will be a dangerous journey, you know. Something could happen to you…" Balin trailed off.
"We will see, Master Balin. If you would excuse me," she responded calmly, bowing to them. Turning on her heel, she headed into the parlor where the dwarves had gathered, conversing and drinking with abandon. A few heads turned as she came in, but Fili and Kili were nowhere to be found. She situated herself at one of the bookshelves around the room. For someone so intent on staying home, Bilbo did have a lot of works on the people of Middle-Earth- especially elves. Humming, she sipped at her tea, the warmth soothing her damaged throat and spreading to her fingertips.
"Did you sign it?"
Amrûn narrowly avoided spitting tea all over Bilbo's books, whipping around to glare balefully at the brothers. They were grinning, and her cheeks reddened at the sound of muffled chuckles from the rest of the gathering.
"Don't-" she started to say, but her words were lost to a heavy coughing fit which bent her double, shoulders shaking with the force of her heaving. The brothers shared a concerned glance and Fili reached out to touch her shoulder. His hand had just brushed her when her hacking subsided and she straightened, pulling a hand away from her mouth.
"You alright, m- is that blood?" Kili's voice rose in alarm as Amrûn inspected her hand, frowning a little at the viscous black staining her fingers.
Unconcerned, she shrugged and wiped the blood on her tunic. "It happens sometimes. Not a problem," she said, much to Kili and Fili's disbelief. "And in answer, to your question, I did. It'll be a pleasure traveling with you."
This announcement excited Kili enough to forget his worry, but Fili's eyes lingered on the dark stain on her tunic. "Well, then I suppose you ought to get better acquainted with the rest of the Company!" Kili said. There was a note of mischief in his tone that made Amrûn regard him suspiciously, folding her arms over her chest.
"I think that would be wise, yes."
Kili beamed. "Excellent! Why don't we start right now?"
In a blink, he had darted past Amrûn. She raised an eyebrow when a startled squeak came from behind her, turning to see that Kili had caught a baby-faced dwarf by the arm and was pulling him over. The dwarf turned an alarming shade of red when she looked at him, staring at the ground and fidgeting with the hem of his cardigan.
"Lady Amrûn, this is Ori. Ori, I don't think you need an introduction-"
"-considering you've been staring at her since she walked in the room!"
Ori looked as though he wanted to sink into the floor beneath Amrûn's gaze. She studied him silently, lips twitching at the blue ribbons threaded in his braids. The mark of a worried mother - or, she thought with a glance at Dori, an older brother. "I'm t-terribly sorry, Miss Amrûn," Ori stammered, drawing her attention. The poor dwarf was almost trembling, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Amrûn felt a sharp pang of nostalgia deep in her chest. "I was just trying to get a look at your tattoos, honest."
He visibly relaxed when Amrûn smiled at him, though the flush on his cheeks didn't quite fade away. "It's perfectly alright, Master Ori. But I think it might be a good idea to move somewhere with a bit more light, don't you?" Amrûn asked.
Emboldened, Ori nodded and hurried off; stopping to alert Dori (who was beginning to look worried.) Amrun smiled and turned back to Fili and Kili, both of whom were grinning. "Something amusing, boys?"
"No, not at all! Just very proud," Fili said cheerfully.
"Our little Ori's finally growing up!" Kili sang, pretending to sniffle and wipe away a tear of pride. Amrûn giggled and took a seat at one of the small tables scattered around the parlor, the brothers settling around her to for Ori. "You know, I think this might be one of the first times Ori's talked to a girl, Fili!"
"You might be right, actually. Definitely the first time he's met a human woman," Fili said, nodding wisely.
"I've heard that there are few dwarf women. Something like only one third of the population, isn't it?" Amrûn asked.
"Aye, and they rarely travel. Our mother actually wanted to come, but since Thorin, Fili and I are gone she stayed behind to rule in his absence," Kili said.
Amrûn nodded thoughtfully. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't recall meeting a single female dwarf during her time in Dain. Or perhaps she had – it wouldn't be the first time she'd suffered gender confusion between races (Lindir still sulked about her mistake sometimes.)
"Um…" A soft sound drew Amrûn's attention and she turned to see Ori, clutching a leather-bound book like a shield. Smiling, she beckoned him over, playfully nudging Kili in the side to make room for the young artist.
"Mind if I smoke?" she asked, slipping her pouch and pipe from her bag. Ori looked a bit surprised, but nodded all the same, sketching a quick outline of her arm.
"You smoke?" Fili asked, surprised.
"I smoke too much, probably," she said with a grin. Reaching into her pouch, she pinched a small ball of pipeweed between two fingers and patted it into the bowl. A press of her finger lit the pipeweed, and she inhaled deeply, watching Ori work to copy the pattern of her tattoos in his sketchbook.
"This is a lovely design, Miss Amrûn," he said shyly, not meeting her eyes.
"Just call me Amrûn, please," she replied, exhaling a puff of smoke that seemed to glow faintly. "And many thanks. You're quite talented, it seems."
Ori blushed and Fili clapped him on the shoulder. "Always has been. Even when he was younger, he was always drawing – if he wasn't buried in a book! Right, Kili… Kili?"
Fili's alarmed tone made Amrûn look up, and what she saw made her bite back a laugh. Kili's jaw was slack, and he had gone cross-eyed. Leaning over as much as she could without moving her arm, she snapped her fingers in front of his face and he started awake. Amrûn said, "Probably just caught a bit of the smoke. You alright, Kili?"
Coughing a bit, Kili nodded. "Fine, yeah. What is that stuff?"
Amrûn grinned, a bit smug. "Rhunish pipeweed! Finest in Middle-Earth, and very strong if you're not used to it."
"So you are from the East?" Ori piped suddenly, laying down his pen. The stares he received from around the table had him fumbling to explain. "W-Well, you don't really look like you're from around her and Nori said that you had the accent and he's traveled more than me or Dori and-"
Amrûn said something low and sibilant in an unfamiliar language and Ori froze, looking panicky. The woman's expression softened into a warm smile, and she said, "You've got to breathe sometimes, Ori."
Relieved, Ori nodded. Amrûn continued, "I was born in the East, yes. But I haven't returned home in many years. I'm impressed that your brother was able to pick up on my accent."
"How far East are you from?" Fili asked.
"Why haven't you returned home?" Kili asked simultaneously.
Amrûn took a puff of her pipe, eyes flicking down and away and shoulders slumped. Her sudden melancholy was startlingly familiar; Kili had seen the same air in his mother and Balin when they smoke of Erebor, and he felt a pang of sympathy with the Easterling. "I was born in the Haza village, on the Eastern shore of the Sea of Rhun. As for why I have stayed away…" She paused, releasing a smoke ring into the dim light. "…That is a long story, and not a particularly pleasant one, I'm afraid."
There was something strange about the way she looked in that moment. Earlier she had seemed young and carefree, the scar she bore nothing but an interesting story. Now, there was an dark, grieving look to her, and her face seemed dominated by that raw red burn.
There was a long, painful stretch of silence at the table, the only sound the scratch of Ori's pen and the periodic inhale and exhale of pipeweed. The quiet was finally broken when Gandalf appeared at the threshold of the parlor, bending to peer inside.
"Amrûn, dear, would you join me for a moment?" Gandalf beckoned, straightening up and disappearing down the hall. Amrûn snorted quietly, drawing amused glances from Fili and Kili.
"Probably wants to 'borrow' some of my pipeweed, if I know him," she said. "Sorry to interrupt, Ori."
With only a cursory nod of farewell to the little group, she departed, finding Gandalf in Bilbo's office. Seating herself on the floor, she spied the contract where she had placed it earlier. "He didn't sign, did he?" she asked. Gandalf nodded, releasing a smoke ring into the office.
"Not yet, at least."
"You really think he's the right person for the job?"
Gandalf looked at her, an amused twinkle in his blue eyes. "I know he is, my friend. Just as I knew you were the right person for your own duty."
Amrûn grunted, irritably blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Because that went so well for me, didn't it!"
Gandalf looked suitably abashed, and she went on. "That is another issue I've been worried about. If I travel with this Company, sooner or later they're going to figure out that I'm not quite as human as I claim to be."
"You've hidden yourself well enough until now," Gandalf pointed out.
"Because I don't make a habit of staying long enough for people to start really looking," Amrûn retorted. She sighed, leaning against the footstool and staring at the ceiling. "It's getting harder to keep myself together, Gandalf. I lose more and more, every day."
The wizard leaned over and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving the young woman a comforting squeeze. "I don't see why you're so worried about it in the first place, besides. To have both a wizard and someone like you on the same quest… Most would consider that a blessing!" He chuckled. "Even if one of them is just an old man."
Amrûn laughed, choking a little on her pipeweed. "Oh, of course! A pitiful old geezer and the boogeyman of Middle-Earth. What assets we are!" She wheezed, smacking Gandalf on the knee with her pipe. The two enjoyed a companionable silence, the scent of pipeweed thick in the air, when a thought occurred to Amrûn. A startled laugh escaped her, and she dissolved into giggles, Gandalf watching fondly. When she had calmed somewhat, she managed to look him in the eye, a smile pulling at her lips. "Can you imagine their faces if we told them how old I am?"
This brought on a brief burst of hilarity, Amrûn cacking so hard that she had to support herself on the footstool, shoulder shaking. The pressure of Gandalf's hand on her shoulder made her pause, lifting her head and blinking tears of mirth from her eyes. She began to question the wizard, but halted at the intense look on his face. Listening, she caught the low humming from the next room.
Seconds later, the song began.
"Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To find out long-forgotten gold."
One by one, the dwarves joined Thorin, the song resounding deep in the spaces between Amrûn's ribs.
"The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches, blazed with light."
There was a familiar nostalgic quality that brought back dim memories of home; hunting kine with her mother and aunts, sparring with her brother and father, climbing to the top of the wall to look out over the vast Rhunish desert and sprinting away before the guards could catch her. She had never realized how much she had loved Haza until she had left, and it was far too late for her to return now. The longing for home was familiar to Amrûn; how could she deny them aid, when for too long that same ache had resided in her? So much of her had already slipped away...
"I ought to go back to the inn if I hope for any rest tonight, Gandalf," she said. Her voice seemed oddly small in the silence after the song. She stood creakily, wincing as the movement pulled at charred and broken skin and slipped out, ducking briefly into the bedroom where Bilbo sat, deep in thought. "Mr. Baggins?" She called, the hobbit jumping a little and whirling around. "I'll be going now. I thank you for your hospitality."
Without another word, she made her way into the foyer, tugging her mask over her face. She felt more than heard the footsteps behind her.
"Leaving so soon?"
The dwarf prince's voice was low and even, and when she looked back his expression was unreadable.
"My horse and my things are at the lodge in Bree. I need to go," she said briskly, pulling on her cloak in a swirl of red fabric.
"You are coming with us, aren't you lass?" Bofur asked, peeking around Thorin. Was it just her, or was there a note of anxiety in his voice?
"Yes, of course. I'll be meeting you in the morning," she responded, though the remark seemed addressed more toward Thorin than Bofur. "Master Dori-" the addressed dwarf, lurking near the back of the group with Ori, started. "-thank you for the tea. It was delicious."
With that said, Amrûn tugged her hood over her head and darted out into the cool spring night, a red phantom that disappeared as suddenly as she came.
