But she was wrong.
She wasn't okay, and to her horror, she fainted as they made their way through the chasm. It was lucky that they were all stood so packed together otherwise she would have hurt herself. Instead, she landed on Dwalin- whose expression only darkened- halting the company to a stop.
As always- for this was not uncommon in her day-to-day life- it passed as quickly as it came, and she was desperate to be on her way and pretend it never happened, even if it meant threatening Oin to quit his frantic examinations. By that point, everybody was watching her as if they were afraid that she would faint on them again, and it was only Thorin who actually pushed his way through the small crowd to see if she was okay (besides Oin, of course), but Fith refused to meet his eyes, annoyed with herself for appearing so delicate.
She expected a snarky comment, but he said nothing, only offering her his arm. The rest of the company took steps back, (which was difficult, considering the size of the pathway), allowing her the space to get back onto her feet. Thorin's expression, however, had remained sullen despite his sudden act of aid: it seemed that he was just as displeased, if not more, about her presence.
"We must make haste," He reminded her, as if she was deliberately trying to slow the whole group down, as if she was enjoying herself on this claustrophobic path. "If you would like someone to help you with your-"
"There's no need," She interrupted him, matching his glower. "I can manage." Fith knew that she would rather carry the entirety of the equipment than admit otherwise.
Thorin nodded, turned to look at the rest of his company, and barked, "We continue."
In haste, they all grabbed hold of their stuff, having used Fith's incident for a small break, and quickly followed suit, looking relieved at not having to carry her stuff. Overall, however, their responses to her were sympathetic. Several of the dwarves, as well as the hobbit, made sure to give her a comforting squeeze on her arm while encouraging her quietly; Bofur even cracked a few jokes, helping to distract her from the hell hole that was this journey through the rocks.
She wondered where it led to, and several times she tried to ask the others around her but it seemed that nobody other than the wizard, (who was strolling through cheerfully with the rest following suit,) knew where it was they were heading to. Not even Thorin. But they had little choice now. Whatever it was at the end of the path would have to be a lot closer to them now than the entrance back where the wargs were.
Feeling especially bare without her shield- which had remained safe all this time with Kili- and having nothing else to distract herself with, she decided to try and get it back.
So when Bombur needed help getting out of an especially tight corner- which required the strength of most of the dwarves- she used this interruption to sort it out.
Distracted by the drama going on behind them, he didn't hear her approach until she was stood right beside him.
"Oh," He started, his surprise instantly lifting to a warm smile. "Are you feeling well?"
She nodded, "Yes, I feel much better," She lied convincingly, or so she thought. Fith still felt horrible, her head burned, making her mind feel like a ball of cotton, while her body ached. Both the lack of food and sleep, on top of today's events, were taking its toll on her health today, and it was shortening her already frail temper. "Better enough to take this," She reached for her shield, but Kili moved it away.
Frowning, he said, "I don't think you should take it, not just yet anyway. I'll carry it for a bit longer, at least until you look well enough."
"Kili, please," She pleaded. When that didn't work, she flared up. "It's mine," She said quietly, fiercely, "And I want it back."
In the meantime, Bombur had been freed with great difficulty, and now the others had resumed making their way forwards. Fith heard Gandalf claim that they were nearly at their destination. Thorin then questioned, for the several hundredth time, where it was they were going, and the wizard simply ignored him, as he had done each time before. Fith and Kili found themselves having to quickly trot after the group in order to catch up.
"I said no," Kili retorted, his tone remaining just as quiet, but firm, as Fith's. The two glared at one another. "And you're not doing any good pestering me. I've made up my mind."
"Ah, ozirum menu seleku," She muttered, and stormed off. He sniffed at her insult.
The hobbit, Bilbo, had awkwardly made his way over to where she walked, brooding, and said in a nervous tone, "Now it's my turn to ask if you're going to faint, although I too am indisposed to catching you." It was meant merely to cheer her up but she refused to cooperate and, sensing this, he scuttled off.
Stupid dwarves and their stupid sense of right and wrong, Fith thought. If it wasn't for them, she would be walking through the open air with the wind blowing off her face, all the while debating what to do with her newly earned cash. If it wasn't for them, she wouldn't have to feel so cooped up. If it wasn't for them-
"I can feel a breeze," Ori announced, sounding confused.
As if unable to breathe from anticipation, they all froze in their tracks, not one making a single sound. Fith closed her eyes, wishing fervently over and over again, and then she felt it, a soft wind brushing her face, making her feel just that little bit better.
The others had felt it too, for they were all whooping with joy.
Gandalf was peering at them all while holding his staff. "See, I told you," He said, sounding clearly amused.
It didn't take long for them to resume their journey, and this time they all walked with more enthusiasm. It seemed that the prospect of fresh air, and a sense of adventure, was enough to provide them all with a newly found sense of energy. Even Fith felt the excitement pushing her forwards (along with the last of her adrenaline), but she also knew that it wasn't enough and that she couldn't hold out for much longer.
She was too weak for that. Inadequate and feeble. She was weak, weak, weak.
But her trail of thoughts ended when the pathway did. At the sharp corner, she felt both herself, and the hobbit, falter at the sight before them. Never, in either of their lives, had they seen such beauty. It was exceptional, incredible, and that, along with the refreshing breeze, brought about a sense of serenity.
Even the others were speechless, only capable of gaping at the sight, mouths open and everything. Only Gandalf and Thorin remained cool about it, although for different reasons. The dwarf was clearly unhappy with where they were, and Gandalf carried an air of someone who had seen such a sight on multiple occasions, and was therefore used to it; but Fith knew that it wouldn't matter how many times she saw this place, she would never be accustomed to its beauty.
"The valley of Imraldis," Gandalf told them impressively, walking over, "In the Common Tongue, it's known by another name."
It was Bilbo, who finished his words. "Rivendell," He breathed.
They took a moment to take that piece of information in.
"Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea," The wizard continued.
While the others stood watching the scenery, almost dumbfounded, it seemed that both Gandalf and Thorin were bickering yet again.
"This was your plan all along," The dwarf accused him, sounding angry, "To seek refuge with our enemy."
Looking disgruntled, Gandalf replied, "You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."
Bilbo's eyes flickered, betraying himself.
Not noticing this, Thorin continued, apparently unable to bear Gandalf's rebukes, saying, "You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us."
Airily, Gandalf told him, "Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm-"
He started to make his descent.
Sensing Thorin's bemusement, he turned to add, "-Which is why you will leave the talking to me."
The scenery was beautiful but difficult to move through. It would seem that the elves here had never been made to carry huge bulks of heavy equipment while balancing across their small, delicate bridges and narrow paths. Fith promised herself that she would let them know what parts in particular to renovate if she ever reached the housed alive.
But apart from that, Fith was not alone in gazing awe-stricken at the place. The hobbit was concentrating more on the scenery than where he was walking, but luckily for him he encountered no problems, nor did he fall off anything. Only the other dwarves looked uneasy as a number of elves strolled past them.
As they stepped into an opening before the grand house, a dark-haired elf had made his way down the flight of stairs to greet them.
"Mithrandir," He called, and the wizard instantly recognised him.
"Ah," He said, "Lindir!"
As the two greeted each other, the dwarves, growing impatient, began to murmur amongst themselves in distrust. Elves, it would seem, were hated by this group in particular. Fith decided not to question this, but knew from previous experiences with elf benefactors that they could be trusted to an extent.
Since none of the others could speak Elvish, Lindir's next comment was useless, and only made them feel more suspicious. Thorin was whispering furiously to Dwalin.
Gandalf, sensing their suspicion at the use of a foreign language, switched back, and said, "I must speak with Lord Elrond."
Looking apologetic to Gandalf, and uncomfortable at the dwarves' hostility, he said, "My lord Elrond is not here."
"Not here?" The wizard asked, looking surprised. "Where is he?"
Before Lindir could reply, a horn- sounding very similar to the one from before- could be heard. They all turned to see a group of armed horsemen quickly approaching the company.
Instinct kicked in to the older dwarf, and Thorin yelled, "Ready weapons! Hold ranks!"
Fith found herself being dragged back as the dwarves formed a tight circle with their weapons pointed outward. Next to her, the hobbit looked nervous, especially when the elves, sat upon huge horses that towered over them, circled their group in a threatening manner. Their size was pretty intimidating.
This meant little to the wizard, who was quickly recognised. "Gandalf!" One of the elves exclaimed, looking happy.
Bowing carefully, the wizard replied, "Lord Elrond," in a matching tone, and began a torrent of elvish, which again, no one else could understand.
Some of the dwarves looked expectantly at her.
Holding her hands out defensively, she said, "Don't look at me, it's not as if I can speak the language. I'm a mercenary, not a scholar."
Their confusion only increased when the elf, Lord Elrond, dismounted and hugged Gandalf. Fith had been right, this was not this wizard's first visit. Next to her, Thorin looked betrayed.
"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders," The elf said. This caught the company's interest now that they could understand him. "Something, or someone, has drawn them near." As if to further prove his point, he held out an Orc sword to show the group before handing it to Lindir.
"Ah," Gandalf said with an easy smile, "That may have been us."
Impatient, Thorin took a step forward, and looking up, it seemed that Elrond had recognised him.
"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," He said with polite esteem.
Looking sullen, the dwarf replied shortly, "I do not believe we have met."
"You have your grandfather's bearing," Elrond continued. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain."
Raising his eyebrows, Thorin took this opportunity for an insult. "Indeed; he made no mention of you." Behind the dwarf, Fith could see Gandalf roll his eyes at that.
The elf had, however, ignored the jibe, and instead turned to speak to Lindir in elvish.
Again, they had no clue what he was saying, and their suspicion reached its ultimate peak.
"What is he saying?" Gloin inquired, sounding fierce. "Does he offer us insult?"
There was a ripple in the group where they had- excluding Fith, Bilbo, and Gandalf- grabbed their weapons uneasily.
Sounding exasperated, Gandalf exclaimed, "No, master Gloin, he's offering you food."
At that, they turned to talk to themselves. Thorin sounded uneasy, but torn. The others needed no further persuasion. As quickly as they had turned, their answer had been founded.
"Ah well," Gloin started, looking a little embarrassed, "In that case, lead on."
And so they were, at Elrond's courtesy. They were promptly led through the house- which was easily just as elegant on the inside as it was on the outside- to a number of rooms for their stay. Because of the sheer number of the company, most has to share in twos or threes but to Fith's relief she was given her own room.
She stayed only long enough to hear the elf say, "Dinner will be served within the next few hours. For now, rest," before retiring without another word to any of the others.
The first thing that she noticed about her quarters was its cleanliness. In her lifetime she could never afford to stay somewhere so pleasant, usually because she could never spare enough cash, and so this was a change to the usual small, grubby rooms that she would pay for at local taverns. Everything looked so fresh and clean that she was almost afraid to take another step, or even put her stuff down, in fear that she would make it dirty. Eventually, however, her tiredness won her over, and she dumped her stuff onto the floor, before kicking off her boots; she forgot about the gold that she had stuffed in eagerly only hours before, and cursed herself as she bent down to pick all the pieces up. Once done, she prioritised herself into getting undressed. First came the removal of her leathers and small bits of cheap armour, then the various tunics and pieces of ragged cloth that kept her warm until finally, all that was left were her breeches and soft, billowy top.
With perfect timing as always, there was a knock on the door. She opened it uneasily, and was surprised when an elf pushed her way into the room.
"My lady," She said, bowing her head graciously to a very confused Fith.
Awkwardly, the dwarf cleared her throat at this unexpected behaviour. "It's Fith," She assured her. "I'm no lady."
"As you wish," The elf replied, walking over towards Fith's clothes. "My Lord Elrond asks if you would like something. Some refreshments perhaps? A hot bath? We can even wash your clothes for you," She added, gesturing to the dirty heap on the floor.
Fith felt bad about the mess, especially against such a beautiful room. "A bath would be nice, and a drink too, please," She said, still feeling confused about the way she was being treated.
The elf nodded, and turned to leave.
"Wait!" Fith called after her, awkwardly clearing her throat. The elf turned, eyebrows raised in expectation. "Thank Lord Elrond for me, would you?" The dwarf asked.
Again, the elf nodded, and this time she able to make it out of the room.
Alone once again, Fith looked at the bed with longing, but decided to wait until after she bathed. She was already proving herself to be a terrible guest, she wouldn't make it worse by ruining their furniture. Instead, she would explore the room.
It was huge, spacious, more than what she needed, but she still enjoyed it. Everything felt so soft- bar the wooden flooring and furniture- and she felt happy enough just to run her fingers over the bedding or the thin curtains that overlooked a waterfall. On the other side of the wall was a mirror.
Kili was right. She looked awful. According to her reflection, there were huge dark circles covering her eyes, emphasised further by how pale she was. Her hair, including her beard, was tangled and dirty, but that was to be expected. It was her face that alarmed her.
Later, after the elves had dragged in a wooden bath and filled it with hot water, Fith was able to explore the damage in more detail. It wasn't as bad as she had originally anticipated, more just a pattern of forming bruises, but the strange herbs the elves had added were helping with the pain, and by the time she had climbed out, Fith was feeling much better.
In the time it had taken to bathe, the elves had also cleaned her clothes for her, and the feeling of clean clothes after a cleansing bath had lifted her heavy mood.
All she wanted to do now was sleep, but she thought that it would be rude to ignore Elrond's company after he had treated her so well and so decided to head down to where the food was being served.
The others were already there, and by the looks of things- and the smell- they had declined Lord Elrond's offer of a bath. Instead, they were sat around the table, looking unhappy about what was being offered.
"Try it," Dori tried coaxing his brother, "Just a mouthful."
Grimacing at the bowl of salad in front of him, Ori shook his head. "I don't like green food," He insisted.
Dwalin, on the other hand, was searching through the bowls.
"Where's the meat?" He asked, sounding almost nervous. Next to him, Oin had picked up a vegetable with his knife, and was staring at it disgust.
"Have they got any chips?" Ori asked, looking around optimistically.
She decided to sit down, and the only spare chair left was besides Dwalin, who was too busy glaring at Kili to notice her. Interested, she watched the two to see what was happening.
Looking extremely guilty, Kili was blathering on. "I can't say I fancy elf maids myself," He said, trying to pull a convincing indifferent expression. "Too thin," He explained. Dwalin raised his eyebrows. "They're all high-cheek bones, and creamy skin-" Bofur grinned at him as he looked up in feign distaste at one, "-I want some facial hair for me. Although-" He nodded to one elf in particular walking past, "-That one there's not too bad."
Looking incredulous, Fith leaned in and muttered, all the while trying hard not to laugh, "That's not an elf maid."
Kili stared blankly as the elf turned around, revealing that he was not, in fact, an elf maid.
Dwalin winked, and the table erupted into laughter at Kili. As Fili lovingly reminded him, it wasn't something that they would forget any time soon, nor let him forget.
It would seem that Lord Elrond had gone all out for his unexpected guests. Around them, he had stationed various elves playing soft melodies on their wooden instruments, something that the dwarves could not take pleasure in. Oin in particular was not enjoying it, and instead stuffed a napkin into his hearing trumpet, looking proud of himself. The dwarves roared with laughter at this. The elves looked displeased.
Having just seized what happened to look like an ornate salt shaker, Nori winced as the elves started to play another tune, which remained as dreary and slow as the last seven ones.
"Change the tune, why don't you?" He complained. "I feel like I'm at a funeral!"
Startled, an even more deaf Oin exclaimed, "Did somebody die?"
"All right, lads," Bofur stated, "There's only one thing for it!" before jumping onto a plinth.
From there he started a tune that Fith recognised from before; it was a song sung by many drunkards if you gave them enough drinks at The Prancing Pony. A real cheerful, lively melody.
"There's an inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill."
The others, having also recognised the cheerful tune, started to bang their plates against the table in time to the dwarf's voice, laughing and singing along while they did so. All the elves had stopped what they were previously doing, and stared in confusion at their guests' rowdy behaviour. Meanwhile, the dwarves had now discovered that the bowl of vegetables could still be used, albeit by chucking it at Bofur's head. Fith could have sworn that she had hit him right between his eyes with a tomato.
"The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he saws his bow
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle."
Even Balin, who was usually so composed around the others, had joined in singing and making a real mess of the banquet. Thorin stood behind them; although he wasn't as enthusiastic as the others, he still joined in, stamping his foot appreciatively in time, all the while sending Elrond gleeful looks.
"So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!' he said."
In triumph, they had roared with laughter, throwing great, big handfuls of salad into the air. Gandalf looked apologetic. Lindir looked pained. Elrond remained emotionless.
—-
Ozirum menu seleku- You couldn't forge a spoon