Author's Note: Thank you very much for all the attention! We've been aching to write up a Hobbit fanfic for ages and finally found the time. Thank as always to ladydurin, Momotte, MoonsHollow, and tarrajane for the follows and kitsune-mieko-witch and LivForMusic for the favorites. A special thanks to Alexstarlight18; thank you too kindly! We hope our further chapters keep you enthralled. Carry on!
The hour grew late and the sun slipped behind the nearby hills. Golden hues streaked through the sky, fading into the purples of early twilight as the company arrived at the outcropping.
"Set up camp. Bombur, get a fire going," Thorin ordered. "Bilbo, we are hungry."
The hobbit regrettably left the elf's side to go help Bombur. Bilbo had grown quite fond of the elf throughout the course of the day. She was the only one who attentively listened to his stories.
"She elf," Thorin barked, "you are on watch. Kíli will stand guard with you."
She nodded before tending to her horse.
"Thorin, the lass needs to rest," Balin told the king.
"She needs to do as I say. She will earn her keep," Thorin spat peeling off his armor.
Balin shook his head. There was no getting through to the dwarf king. He watched the lass remove her horse's tack, still favoring her shoulder. "Let me help, lass. You should not strain your shoulder lest you pull out your stitches," he offered taking the saddle from her hands.
Aidyn was taken aback. Normally, she would have struck someone for coddling her so, but Balin seemed genuinely concerned for her, so she let it slide. "Thank you," she breathed as her shoulder twinged. Her hand flew to her shoulder, rubbing at the front of the injury to quell the pain.
"I know that hurts more than you let on," Balin said knowingly. Giving the lass a once over, he took note of the dark circles underneath her eyes. "When is the last time you found rest?"
"I can go a few days without rest," Aidyn assured him, sliding her pack off her shoulder with her good arm and reclining against her saddle.
"And how long has it been? More than a few days by the looks of it," Balin pressed the elf.
"Aye, it has been more than a few," she sighed loosening her boot strings. Sliding the leather off her feet, she removed her socks and wiggled her toes. Aidyn never cared much for footwear; she liked her feet to be in contact with the earth. Rubbing the soles of her feet, she breathed, "I will take rest when I can. No need to worry, master dwarf."
Balin looked at the elf. She was so tired, yet would to do as she was told. "You should not have to deprive yourself for Thorin. Fíli could take your watch."
"It is alright. I do not want to upset your king more than my presence does already. It is no trouble," she affirmed, stretching her legs.
"You are too kind," Balin shook his head.
"I am merely trying to not cause waves," she laughed taking a sip from her water skin.
"I will see to it you are not on watch tomorrow, lass."
"Thank you, Balin. I will never be able to repay your kindness," Aidyn thanked him.
Balin had stood toe to toe with the king in her favor and pushed for her medical attention. Now he was looking out for her wellbeing. No, Aidyn knew not how she would repay him.
"Oh I will think of something, lass," Balin grinned. "Rest. I will wake you when supper is ready."
Aidyn nodded as she closed her eyes. Her breathing evened as slept pulled at her exhausted mind. Satisfied, Balin returned to camp, leaving Aidyn to her much needed rest.
Balin roused her an hour or so later. He profusely apologized for interrupting her rest, but she assured him that was all she needed.
Aidyn sat around the fire with the rest of the company. Bilbo immediately found his seat at her side. She smiled; she was already fond of the odd little creature.
A dwarf named Bofur sat at her other side. "What is your blade called?" he wanted to know, pointing at her sheathed weapon with his spoon. "All Elvish blades are named. I suspect yours is no different."
She pulled her scabbard around and unsheathed the blade. She handed the hilt to Bofur who held it reverently.
"It is so light," he remarked standing and taking a swing with the hand and a half sword.
"Careful, you will take her ear off. The poor lass has enough stitches as it is," Óin taunted.
"I will do no such thing," Bofur scowled, still handling the blade. He balanced the sword of his finger. It leveled, the weight perfectly even between the tang and the blade. He ran his fingers over the hilt. Elvish markings were carved into the metal. "What does this say?"
"That would be the blade's name," Aidyn said, not needing to look at the blade to know of what Bofur was inquiring. "It reads veryr, peace bringer."
"Beautiful. Elvish craftsmanship will never cease to awe me," Bofur murmured, handing the blade back to its owner.
"My father forged it centuries ago," she told him as she sheathed the blade. "He was wonder with metalwork."
As an elfling, she could remember her father as he worked in his forge. He would slave over his anvil, his nearly white hair cascading about as he crafted the most delicately pristine blades. She would sit in his workshop for hours watching him work. The skill and dexterity of his elven hands made his work highly sought after. Celeborn even bore a blade made by Tinnour.
Her father would tell her stories of the blade, of the person for whom they were forged. Those were times she cherished. He had begun to teach her how to forge before he passed. "Careful, little fire," he would say to her, "it is not a race to the finish, but the journey in which it is made that creates the blade's beauty." He would take her small hands in his, showing her the precise loving motions that created the curved lines of the blades. When she made the strokes correctly on her own, he would whisper the highest of praise in her ears, peppering her temples with kisses. Tinnour never failed to take an opportunity to tell his daughter how proud he was of her. "One day, you will wield a sword," she recalled her father's words, "and you will be a force to be reckoned with, little fire. No one will stand in the way of your flames. But know this: even if you chose to follow a different path, I will never be prouder than I am simply to call you daughter."
Unconsciously, her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword at the memory. Her sword was all she had left of her father. It had served him well through every battle; carrying the blade gave her a small piece of the father she wished was with her now.
A loud belch broke her thoughts.
"Nice one, Ori!" Bofur called to the dwarf across the fire.
Chuckles broke out among the other dwarves.
"Lads, we have a lady in our midst, show some self-control," Balin chided looking to Aidyn, who was laughing right along with them.
"It is alright, master Balin. Nothing I am not used to. I am often in the company of men."
Bofur wolf-whistled, eyebrows grazing his hairline. Kíli's eyes grew wide at her statement. Was she loose? Elves were not known to have multiple lovers and Aidyn certainly seemed like the type who many would seek out for their desires.
A few other dwarves joined in the teasing. Aidyn's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Not in that regard," she scoffed. Men's minds, no matter what race, were always in the same place. "Being Captain requires many hours of training and tactical study. Being that I run the trainings, I spend many hours with the men," she clarified.
"Maybe you could give Ori and Bilbo some pointers, make warriors out of them yet!" Bofur observed.
Bilbo and Ori shared a glance, none too happy about being called out in front of the group for their lack of battle prowess.
"I would be happy to," Aidyn grinned at the hobbit and dwarf.
"I am sure Kíli could use a proper archery lesson as well," Fíli jumped into the banter.
Kíli sent a fiery glare at his brother. His skill was well developed; he had no need to further instruction.
"I do not think there is much more I could teach. He is already a good marksman," Aidyn spoke in his stead.
Fíli raised his brows at the look she sent Kíli, who sat their gob smacked that the elf had even stood up for him, let alone praised his skill again. "Look who has the elf's favor," Fíli whispered to his brother.
Kíli shoved his shoulder, lest the elf overheard.
"You have hardly pulled your eyes away from the lass," Fíli teased, seeing the chink in his brother's armor.
Kíli's gaze befell the elfmaid on the opposite side of the flames, laughing with Bilbo and Bofur. She seemed to get along well with the dwarves, at least those who accepted her. And she was quickly melting the ice with Bombur and Gloin. Bombur nearly fainted with delight as she complimented his cooking. He looked far too pleased with the praise.
Feeling a heavy stare upon him, he turned to see his brother with a mischievous smirk coloring his face. "What?"
Fíli chuckled, "you have been staring, dear brother."
Kíli scowled, turning his attention anywhere but the elf.
Fíli sensed his opening. He elbowed Kíli in the ribs. "I bet you all the gold in my pocket-"
"No," Kíli interrupted, knowing exactly where this was going.
Too many times had they played this game with the tavern lasses, attempting to charm them into puddles. They would schmaltz and schmooze until the lass blushed crimson. It was all too easy. Whoever made the lass of the evening swoon the most won, even more so if she invited him to her room.
But Aidyn, she was no sputtering barmaid. A strong, war hardened elfmaid would not fall for such parlor antics.
"Staking your claim a bit early, are we?" Fíli chided.
Kíli responded with a sock in thigh. "No," he seethed.
"Mahal, you are touchy," Fíli howled with laughter.
"That is because he did not land any maids in Rivendell," Bofur chortled, picking up on the brother's conversation.
The company uproared in hysterics remembering the eyes Kíli made at the elfmaids at Lord Elrond's feast and how little they responded to the schmaltzing of the princeling.
"Lest you forget, Bofur. Kíli was telling us a few nights ago how he cared not for elven women. Too lithe and not enough beard," Dori chipped in.
Bombur fell off the log he was sitting on, rolling on the ground as his gales overtook him. Kíli grit his teeth at the teasing. That was a memory he soon wanted to forget, though he knew the company would never let him. Sighing, he slouched, resigning to the teasing as the laughter continued.
"So clearly you care not much for yourself," Aidyn quipped, folding her arms across her chest, raising a pale brow challengingly at Kíli.
The company fell silent as the graves as they looked between Aidyn and Kíli. The dwarf price met the elf's gaze in shock. Was she serious about her insult? Kíli's heart sank as his stare fell to the ground. He looked up at her again and saw nothing but teasing tomfoolery in the eyes.
Sniggers broke out between Ori and Bofur, soon engulfing the entire company in loud, boisterous guffaws.
"She bites!" hooted Bofur, covering his heart with his hand. "Good one, lass!" he lightly punched Aidyn in the shoulder.
Aidyn laughed in spite of herself. Such a merry band of dwarves, save for their cantankerous leader. Searching the camp, she spied Thorin far removed speaking heatedly with Balin. No doubt he was griping about her presence. At the pace they were moving, they should clear the mountains in two weeks time. Two weeks and Thorin Oakenshield would be rid of her.
For the time being, the rest of the company more than made up for their leader's sour attitude. Still, some were still not fond of her, but at least her jibe at Kíli's expense had a few of them cracking a grin.
Kíli. She stole a glance at the dwarf. His cheeks blazed red clearly even in the firelight as many dwarves also took shots at him. She had not meant to throw him to the wolves. His eyes met her with a look that said she would pay dearly for this.
"Kíli," Oakenshield rumbled, silencing all the good humor. "You and the she elf are on watch. Take your post. The rest of you, clean up and get some sleep. The path will become increasingly more difficult from now."
The company muttered between themselves as they did what their leader commanded. Aidyn handed her bowl to Bilbo, placing a hand on his shoulder as she walked off to her bag to prepare for watch.
"I quite like her," Ori said to the hobbit as he helped collect the stray dishes.
Bilbo nodded. "She fits in well with the company."
"Aye! She has a sharp wit," Bofur added his two cents. "She is fiery and a strong fighter. I have never see a woman with such tenacity. She will come in handy."
"Who knows? Perhaps she would even make a fair burglar," Bilbo said hopefully, still not comfortable with the idea of facing a dragon. If Aidyn went with him, he would surely feel invincible.
"We saw her fight. She is light on her feet, maybe stealthy enough to steal something," Ori supposed.
"Indeed, including a heart or two," Bofur observed, nodding in Kíli's direction.
The young dwarf prince's cheeks still blazed in embarrassment as he readied his weapons.
"Oi, Kíli," Bofur called to the lad.
Kíli sighed and rolled his eyes, "what?" he grumped, having enough ridicule for one lifetime.
Bofur bit his lip to hold in a chortle, "do not let the she elf bite!" He could not hold it in. Bofur, Bilbo, and Ori fell about laughing again.
"I do not think he would mind in the slightest," Fíli commented, adding a few logs to the fire and sending the trio howling again.
Kíli ignored them as he shouldered his quiver and headed to the watch post. The ground slowly inclined as he walked. He was not looking forward to watch tonight. After her comments at dinner, spending the entire night with a sharp-tongued elf did not tickle his fancy. Reaching the rocky outcropping, he sat down and tangled his hands in his hair roughly.
If he did not catch enough flack for being the youngest in the company, now he was being ridiculed for Mahal knows what else. If one thing was sacred, never tease a dwarf about his beard or lack thereof. He ran a hand over his stubble as if willing the hair to grow.
Maybe he misjudged the elf. Still, she was a fair creature; there was no denying that. But perhaps he has too willingly decided she was kind.
"Sorry about the elfmaid crack earlier," a soft voice said from his side.
He nearly jumped out of his skin in fright; she sat right next to him and he had not taken notice. "I did not hear you approach," he breathed, attempting to calm his erratic heartbeat.
Aidyn grinned slightly. "You were deep in thought. And we elves are nearly silent upon approach," she assured him.
A noncommittal sound came from his lips as he turned back to his watch.
"I am sorry," she spoke softly. "My humor has a tendency to run away from me. I did not intended to offend you or sick your entire company after you."
Kíli glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her green eyes were trained on him, wide and tangibly full of concern.
"Peace offering?" she extended a green apple to him from the confines of her cloak.
"Thank you," he laughed lighting taking the apple. He noted her delicate fingers as they uncurled, placing the fruit in his hand. Her hands were so much smaller than his own. His eyes locked with hers again and she smiled warmly at him. Maybe his original perception was correct. He bit into the apple, relishing in the cool crispness.
Aidyn plucked a small vial from her cloak. Attempting to uncork it, she gave a tug. Pain flared through her should her and hissed through her teeth. Her sharp exhale garnered Kíli's attention.
He had to stifle a laugh watching her attempt to uncork the vial now with her teeth. "Here," he said, choking back a laugh as he took the vial from her hands. He held his apple in his teeth as he worked the cork free. The vial opened with a pop.
"Thanks," she muttered, her face grimacing as she took back the vial with slight embarrassment.
"Do not mention it," he grinned taking another bite of the fruit. "What is that? It smells horrid," he wafted the smell away from his face.
"Athelas and yarrow," she responded, gingerly peeling off her cloak and sliding the shoulder of her tunic down. She groaned as her eyes were met with angry red flesh. The skin around her stitches flames and wept still a little blood.
"That does not look good," Kíli inhaled. Her injury was one of the worst he had ever seen, and yet she still did not seem to deem it a grievous wound.
"Hence the athelas and yarrow. It is supposed to stave off infection and expedite the healing process," she informed his, pouring some of the green mush into her hand and slathering it over her wound. Wincing as she grazed over the stitches, she covered all the red flesh in hopes to abate any infection. Finishing, she wiped her hands off on her breeches.
Truthfully, it was one of the worst injuries she had endured. She mentally kicked herself for letting the warg even get close enough to scratch her.
"How are you fairing?" Kíli pressed, his gaze still locked on her shoulder.
Aidyn studied his face. To admit her pain or not? She could not have the dwarves thinking she was weak; she was not, but any sign of softness and it would surely be exploited. Her thoughts paused; she had caused Kíli undue duress. It was only fair for her to be honest. "It hurts," she said, "but it is nothing I cannot handle. How are you fairing?"
He choked on a bit of apple. "Me? I am not injured."
"Quests can be taxing, more so than physically. I assume you have been away from home for awhile."
"Aye," he sighed. It has been months since leaving the Blue Mountains. This was by far the longest time he had been away from home. He would never admit it to anyone, but he missed home. Sleeping on the ground and eating only what you could carry with you or find threw a warm bed and readily available pantry in sharp perspective. "I am fairing fine. Though these boot sores are killing me," he grumbled, nodding to his feet.
A smile grew on Aidyn's face. "Take off your boots."
His eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"
Aidyn laughed at his reaction. "Come now, Kíli. I am not asking you to disrobe. Take off your boots."
He eyed her warily as he tossed his apple core into the trees and tugged at his boot strings, loosening the ties and sliding them off his feet.
"Socks too," she advises pulling another vial from her cloak.
Kíli removed his socks and his eyes widened further still as Aidyn settles by his legs. She popped the cork off the vial and gently lifted one of his feet into her lap.
"What are you doing?" his voice wavered on the verge of cracking, tucking his feet up under himself away from her view. He was particular about his feet, mainly because they were so large and hairy and no one should be subject to dwarven feet after months of traveling.
"I am not going to hurt you," she laughed, tugging at his pant leg. "This will help your feet," she assured him.
"That is alright. I will muscle through it," Kíli waved her off.
"Do not be a nancy, Kíli. Please let me," she implored. Pleadingly, her eyes begged him as she extended her hand.
Kíli stared at her hand again. Those long slender fingers, he could not help but think of how they would feel against his skin. Reluctantly, he unfolded his legs.
Aidyn once again gently moved his foot to her lap. Rubbing the oil between her palms, she ran her fingers across the blade of his foot, working her way down to his heel. She pressed tenderly on the blisters there, expelling the puss.
Kíli was beside himself as Aidyn began to knead the sole of his foot. Never had anyone massaged his feet and here a total stranger was doing so. His face flushed at the intimate gesture as he fought to keep quiet as groans were building inside at her touch.
The oil began to tingle as a cooling sensation spread through his feet. "What is this you are using?"
"Peppermint oil," she grinned looking up from her ministrations as she began on this other foot.
"How came you by this?" he nearly groaned, shutting his mouth quickly.
Aidyn laughed lightly, feeling him struggling against himself. "You pick up a lot of things when you are in the army. My lads are always getting boot sores."
"And do you do this for them?" Kíli asked of her, nearly panting at the loss of her touch.
"No," she scoffed, rubbing the excess oils into her hands as she returned to Kíli's side.
"Then why?" Kíli was rather curious for her answer. Why had she taken care of his feet? He was not ungrateful; it was heavenly having her hands on him. Instantly they felt better, as if they never had traveled from the Blue Mountains.
He stole a glance, peering at Aidyn quickly. She sat quietly beside him, her knees pulled up to her chest, starring out at the woods in front of them. Why would an elf want to rub a dwarf's smelly, travel abused feet? It was beyond him and she was not answering his inquiry. "Why would you massage a strange dwarf's feet?" he pressed again.
"In the name of peace," she breathed, running a hand through her pale hair. "There is such animosity between elves and dwarves. It should not be that way. Not all elves despise dwarves. My kin do not share the views of the elves of Mirkwood. It is a petty squabble that happened many years ago."
"I never understood it much either. Though my uncle spoke ill of the elves as long as I can remember. He was there when Thranduil turned his back," Kíli said solemnly.
Thorin had beat into his and Fíli's heads when they were dwarflings the rottenness of elves. Fíli and Kíli had often made elves the baddies as they play fought for Erebor. It was not until Rivendell that they both began to see that maybe Thorin's view of elves were not entirely correct.
"Thranduil has created more than enough problems for our kind," she hissed through gritted teeth. "He is a blithering idiot."
Kíli laughed aloud. At the noise, Aidyn sent him a curious glance.
"I am sorry," he breathed between laughs. "You find Thranduil an idiot and Thorin is worried about your allegiance. If he only knew."
"Well you being alive come morning should be proof enough that I am true to my word," Aidyn countered, catching Kíli's eye. His laughter was so contagious she soon found herself unable to keep her snickering to herself.
"Why? Were you planning on killing me?" Kíli cracked, wiping the mirth from his eyes.
"Perhaps," she laughed, her gales subsiding.
"Really?" Kíli asked cheekily.
Aidyn laughed again. "Now why would I waste my efforts from saving your company and rubbing your feet?"
"You elves are ruthless," Kíli teased.
Her brows crossed, all laughing ceasing. Kíli's breath stopped. Instantly, he regretted his statement. She was undoubtedly going to kill him now.
To his surprise, a wry smile graced his lips. "I deserved that."
Kíli let out the breath he was holding. "Yes, you did indeed."
"You are not maid like in the slightest," she assured him.
"Thank you," he grinned, now knowing that she was only kidding all along.
"Your feet are entirely too large to be considered maid-ish," she jabbed, fighting off a fit of laugher.
Kíli could not help but grin. She was a strange elf, absolutely captivating. Aidyn was the exact opposite of the elves in Rivendell. They were stoic; she made him laugh until he was in tears. She was fierce where they were placid. The only similarity was their looks and even there she differed. Her color was different; she seemed brighter than the others. Light hair, light eyes. She was a different breed entirely.