That was, of course, until the screeching started.
I had almost been asleep. I had almost been to dream land. I had almost managed to ignore the snores and Fili and Kili's quiet murmurs enough to find rest.
But the screeching startled me out of my dozing state and sparked a fear I'd never felt before. The terror I'd felt when waking up in this godforsaken place was nothing compared to the aching fear that slowly spread from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe; my lungs felt like they had a life of their own, clenching and convulsing… It caused my panic to reach the point of me jumping up to huddle against Kili's side and look around with wild eyes.
To the Dwarf's credit, he managed to make me feel at least a little safe and secure by lifting a hand to pat reassuringly at my shoulder before bringing it around my upper back to pull me into him even closer for a short embrace. He let me go a moment later making me feel a chill once again, but offered him a smile of thanks and he nodded in return. Unwilling to move away from him completely I continued to huddle into his side, my fear slowly subsiding. Then I noticed Bilbo beyond the glow of the fire, his light curly hair slightly shining in the moonlight as he stood by the pony he had ridden.
"What was that?" he asked in a hushed tone, a small finger pointing over the canyon as he looked at Kili who had looked up from playing with his pipe when another –louder –scream sounded.
"Orcs," he replied after a moment of scanning his eyes over the darkness.
The Hobbit was shuffling over to us closer to the fire and the fear I saw on his face probably matched what I had felt when I first awoke to the sounds. "Orcs?"
"Throat cutters," Fili explained nonchalantly. I looked passed Kili to look at the blonde Dwarf who sat leisurely smoking his pipe with slightly hooded eyes. Orcs were those ugly things that ate people, right? "There will be dozens of them out there. The Lowlands are crawling with them."
"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," continued Kili, his body shifting slightly when he waved his hand in gesture. "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."
Mine and Bilbo's eyes widened and as the Hobbit turned back around to stare fearfully around us I pressed myself closer to the Dwarf next to me so much I thought I'd knock him over if I pushed anymore. I was just beginning to tremble under my cloak when I heard the brothers start to chuckle quietly, Kili's body shaking because of it.
They-! Were they laughing at us? At our fear? Immediately my eyes hardened and I suddenly pulled away from my false source of comfort like I had just been told he had cooties, my head snapping up to glare at the dark haired Dwarf.
I couldn't decide if I wanted to punch them or yell at them until I was red in the face and I was about to do both just for the hell of it, but Thorin beat me to the punch. "You think that's funny?" he scolded, his voice low. The brothers quieted, their amused expressions turning to ones of guilt. I felt a little satisfaction at that. "You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?"
Thorin had moved from his spot where I had left him on the rocks at Dinner to cross in front of Bilbo –where the Hobbit stood looking between the Dwarves in confusion –and passed by the fire, staring at his nephews with such a harsh glare even I could feel its intensity. His glares made you feel like a child again and I'm sure that's how the boys felt as they lowered their heads, unable to look their uncle back in the eye. My anger towards them was momentarily forgotten as I felt pity for them at being on the receiving end of one of Thorin's glares. They weren't pleasant at all.
"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili mumbled.
"No, you didn't," Thorin bit back in a growl. I flinched at the harshness even though it wasn't directed at me. "You know nothing of the world."
The Dwarf leader then stomped away to stand with his back to us as he faced the ponies, his hands clasping behind his back. Balin, who was apparently still awake –as was Gandalf who I had just noticed puffing his pipe against a gnarled tree farther away from us –approached the edge of the fire, a small frown on his wrinkled features. He lifted an arm to lean against the jutted rock and leveled the brothers with kind eyes.
"Don't mind him, laddie," he said to Kili whose eyes were still downcast. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs." Collectively all our eyes followed Thorin's back in curiosity.
"After the dragon took The Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria," the old Dwarf continued. "But our enemy had got their first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race…" Here he paused and his frown deepened. "Azog the Defiler."
A chill that had nothing to do with the weather shot through my body and I shivered, shuffling closer to Kili once again. I heard the scratching of boots against rock and was barely aware of a few other Dwarves rousing from their sleep and gravitating towards the story being told. Pulling my cloak tighter around me, I felt Kili place his arm back around my shoulders for comfort and I forgot my earlier anger and accepted it. I had no doubt he felt the same shudder I had at just hearing the name.
"The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the Line of Durin. He began… by beheading the King." I couldn't help it that my eyes strayed toward Thorin at this. It was hard to tell through the thick fur and leather of his cloak, but it was obvious he could hear what Balin was saying if his tense shoulders were any indication. "Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat… and death were upon us."
Old Balin's head bowed for a moment, a small smile beginning to form as his voice dropped. "That is when I saw him." He glanced over at Thorin who still stood stiff then back to the Hobbit who was as enraptured by the story as much as I was. "A young Dwarf prince facing down The Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield." Tingles ran down my spine, my eyes still glued to the back of Thorin's head in awe. "Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken.
"Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back. Our enemy was defeated. But there was no feast nor song that night… For our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then… There is one who I could follow. There is one… I could call King."
At the end of Balin's tale the Dwarf looked over at his leader once again just as Thorin finally turned from staring at nothing and to his Company of Dwarves that had by this time all gathered and watched him in awe. I was only able to see a bit of Thorin between their burly figures, but I was able to catch the fleeting look on his face and it wasn't one I neither expected nor surprised to see.
He looked just about ready to cry. Tears had pooled in the corners of his eyes and his dark eyebrows were drawn together in sadness. For a brief moment he looked broken, alone… defeated. The flashes of that day were probably going around in his head as if he were reliving it and I felt a lump grow in my throat in pity and sadness for him. No matter how rude the man –Dwarf –was, I still felt for him; no one should have to live through that kind of pain, losing their family.
But as soon as I spotted all this he blinked and it was gone, his expression returning to the same mask of stone. He gave a slow incline of his head, his eyes meeting each of the Dwarves' that stood around him, then I noticed his shoulders slump as he lowered his chin to his chest ever so slightly as he began to walk back to his rock. The group of Dwarves parted for him without asking.
Bilbo, who had taken a seat on the other side of the fire from me, looked up at Balin curiously. "And The Pale Orc? What happened to him?"
Before Balin had a chance to answer, Thorin passed by behind the Hobbit. "He slunk back into the hole whence he came," he ground out. His head dipped to stare down at Bilbo and I felt my breath hitch slightly as his piercing gaze also grazed over me. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."
~.~
Traveling in the wilderness was not as exciting as I had originally thought it to be after the first day. I myself felt very discontent more than ninety percent of the time. I had spent more than half my summers camping in tents with my family in the middle of nowhere, but nothing had ever caused me to be so completely and utterly miserable as I sometimes found myself feeling during this journey. Due to my inexperience in riding, the insides of my thighs chaffed more and more with every movement Sir Hoover made. The nights, which could be sickeningly cold at best, were uncomfortable and hard to sleep through because of the Dwarves' constant snoring –and farting. The only thing that seemed to cheer me up half the time it seemed was chatting with either Kili, Fili or Bofur or staring at the back of Thorin's head and even then I felt the twinge of constant annoyance inside me like a sickness.
The only thing that made me feel better about the entire situation was that the only one that seemed more out of sorts than me was Bilbo. He still held the reigns like he was about to lift them over his head like a necklace and his back was so stiff it was a wonder why he didn't complain of back pain amongst the other things I heard him muttering about half the time. I may have not been cut out for traveling like this, but this was completely out of the Hobbit's comfort zone.
It had been a week since Balin's story by the fire and it had been a week since I'd even attempted to interact verbally with Thorin. His stare still scared the knickers off me so whenever he didn't join us of his own volition at dinner or breakfast Bofur or Bombur –both for some reason had deemed me their Prince's personal waitress when he was too moody to join us himself –always sent me to him with a plate full of food. Each time I would groan and they would just laugh and send me to him anyway. The only thing I was good for was fetching wood, sewing up a few ripped patches of clothing and taking watch anyways and I had the need to make myself useful. Unfortunately that included being a maid to the most uncooperative person in a hundred miles. So instead of attempting to socialize with him –which as we all know turned out just fantastic last time –I ended up avoiding his gaze whenever he looked at me and either thrust the plate in his hand or set it down beside him before scuttling away.
Other than him though, the rest of The Company were rather friendly –except for maybe Dwalin –and welcomed me into conversations and told me about their homes and stories that they knew. Bofur had even started to give me small lessons on how to speak Kazdúl so that I could properly start to interact with his brother. Some of the other Dwarves helped and laughed when I totally butchered it –it's very growly and rough, much harder to learn than you think –but they were surprisingly patient with me. Most of them were surprised that I couldn't speak Kazdúl, but when I reminded them of my 'amnesia' they seemed to accept it and move on.
Learning a new language wasn't the easiest or most fun thing to do though. Mix my frustration from my aches and pains of riding and trying to learn a language that included more hacking and gurgling than a chain smoker and you had one cranky she-Dwarf by the end of the day. As I mentioned before, my temper had only certain limits which was why Bofur –still with that damned cheery grin of his –limited our lessons to only half a day until I started getting further along with it. For that I was thankful. My throat felt sorer than it had since I had bronchitis when I was ten.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed myself too. Don't go thinking that I'm a prudy stuck up snob that didn't like the outdoors or the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. In the moments that I found myself just sitting there, no Khuzdul or sword lessons, no joking around or attempting to fall asleep on Sir Hoover, I could just breathe in the fresh clean air and listen to the wind blow through the trees. I saw animals scurrying around just off the path we traveled and watched the beautiful scenery pass around me. The things I saw were hard to find in my world. Sure there were trees and unpopulated stretches of land, but they were all too far away and expensive for me to go to. And even those places, from what I had seen from pictures, could not compare to the beauty that I saw in this new strange world my afterlife was chosen to take place in.
It was one of those moments that I found myself completely calm and at ease, despite my aching muscles. Fili, Kili and Bofur had ridden ahead to talk and tease other members of the group and I gladly stayed behind to watch the trees go by. We had entered another forest about an hour before, these ones being much taller than I ever thought trees could get –but that might also have been because of my new short stature –and I found myself craning my head back to see if I could catch a glimpse of the very top. That had resulted in me getting a twig in the face, however, so I promptly turned back to the road ahead.
Of course, that didn't hold my attention for long –even if I was mostly just staring at the back of Thorin's head and his beautifully long raven locks –and after a few more minutes I began to braid Sir Hoover's mane in the smallest braids I could do just to make the time pass by faster. The pony, upon feeling me begin to tug at its grey thick strands, nickered and tossed its head back slightly. I scowled at the back of his head and tapped the side of his neck to reprimand him.
"Quit your whining. You won't look any less manly, I promise," I scolded and continued my work. The animal I was currently torturing almost seemed to understand what I said and huffed out of his nose. "Well, if you haven't noticed, these guys have more braids than I can count on two hands and they seem pretty badass to me. I think I'm doing you a favour."
I probably looked pretty crazy talking to a horse like another human being; even in this world I'd imagine it being strange, but whatever. What else is there for a bored girl, who was pretty sure she lost her marbles the moment she realized she died and transported to another world, to do?
Sir Hoover shook his head, successfully causing me to drop the braid I was working on and I grumbled in annoyance before taking it back up. "Jesus, you're worse than a little girl. I'll take them out later, I promise."
"Miss Poppy, are you… arguing with your pony?" came a timid and unsure voice from my left. Looking up I found Ori and a few other Dwarves watching me curiously. The poor guy beside me almost looked terrified as his gaze bobbed back and forth between me and the animal I sat upon.
"He's being very unreasonable," I told him in exasperation, pointing at the back of the beast's head before continuing what I was doing. Sir Hoover gave a grunt.
Ori raised a dark eyebrow. "He's a pony…"
"Who apparently thinks he's too manly for braids," I huffed.
Ori looked stunned and unsure of what else to say. He even looked over at the other Dwarves close by, who consisted of his two brothers and Bombur, for help, but each of them shrugged. I kind of felt bad for scaring the guy like I was, but I didn't have the heart to care either. Let them think I'm crazy, better for this than them finding out I 'think' I'm from another world where I had to die to get here.
Sir Hoover's ears pinned themselves to his head and he shook my hands away again. With a groan of annoyance the braid I had in my hands fell away, and before crossing my arms over my chest I whipped out a hand to half hazardly swipe at the pony's dirty thick strands blowing slightly in the breeze. I then scowled at the back of his head. "Fine. Be that way, you little brat."
He nickered again, seemingly happy, and I stuck my tongue out at him like a petulant child.
I was bored again not ten seconds later.
So what did I do? I stared at the back of Thorin's head.
His beautifully dark head graced with thick wavy locks of coal and a few streaks of silver.
Hair that was so perfect it made me jealous.
Jesus, I'm attracted to and jealous of a man that's shorter than my seven-year-old cousin, Louis.
Come to think of it I'm shorter than my seven-year-old cousin, Louis.
Hell, I'm shorter than his little sister, Maya.
...
Thorin has really pretty hair.
"Either you're plotting my uncle's demise or you are simply contemplating how many strands you can count from this distance."
I let out a little cry of shock when Fili's voice suddenly interrupted my obvious creeping session. The outburst of noise, that sounded ashamedly similar to some sort of dying animal, startled a few other Dwarves and most of them turned in their saddles to look at me –Thorin included. Beside me Fili laughed like he had just done pot for the first time, wiping tears from his eyes and his fat hand holding his belly as he leaned back in his saddle. My cheeks burned red hot in embarrassment and I avoided the gazes of the Dwarves, especially Thorin's whose was a little more narrowed than the others', as my hand shot out to smack the Dwarf beside me in an attempt to shut him up. That only succeeded in him laughing more.
It took several moments for him to gather his composure, but soon he had reduced his gales of laughter to light chuckles. He leaned somewhat closer, his voice lowered conspiratorially, and I could still hear the amusement in his tone. "I sincerely hope it's the latter."
"Shut up, Fili. Go terrorize Ori or something," I grumbled in reply.
"Not a chance, Miss Poppy. This is too much fun."
"For you, maybe." My embarrassed grumble was met with another bout of chuckles from the blonde Dwarf and I glared at him again. "Do you seriously have nothing better to do than bug people?"
The smirking man turned his eyes ahead of him, pointedly ignoring my exasperated stare. "Not really."
I heaved a sigh and also turned my gaze forward… Which led me to staring at the back of Thorin's head again.
Damnit, why was I such a creep?
"Correct me if I'm wrong, my friend, but I do believe you find my uncle appealing." I attempted to ignore the blonde, but was unable to when his next whisper was suddenly so close. "Sexually, if you catch my drift."
I let out another small shriek at Fili's soft tone next to my ear and batted him away, mouth agape like a fish out of water. I stuttered and sputtered at a loss for words. Finally, my unintelligent babbling created an unintelligent retort.
"I do not!" I protested childishly, my voice a harsh whisper to avoid being heard by the others. "And there was absolutely no drift in that accusation! Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?" Fili rolled his eyes and shook his head at me, a knowing smile gracing his bearded features.
"You lie. You've done nothing but stare at Thorin since the moment he walked through the Halfling's door," he responded, a light brow raising, daring me to challenge him. "Tell me I am wrong."
My scowl deepened before I turned away from him –and Thorin –completely to look at the passing trees. I wanted to keep denying it, but it was useless with someone like Fili. He didn't seem like the type that would give up easily and although I wasn't either, I knew when I had been beaten. As I stared at the trees, ignoring the Dwarf next to me almost entirely, I tried my hardest not to look at the topic of the conversation.
My silence only cemented Fili's suspicions and I heard him give a quiet triumphant chuckle, but luckily he didn't push the subject farther. Though I'm sure he was still smirking like the little jerk that he was. Glancing over at him, my own suspicion was confirmed as he gave me a knowing grin before trotting on ahead of me to join Kili who was laughing with Gloin. I glared at his back as my hand absent mindedly stroked Sir Hoover's neck, the soft hair feeling somewhat gritty from days in the wild against my now fatter fingers.
My eyes traveled down to my hands then to watch my fingers as they moved to brush through the pony's matted mane. "I am so happy you can't speak, buddy. I'm sure the shit that would come out of your mouth would be worse than his," I sighed to myself.
"I'm fairly certain that speaking to the pony more will unfortunately not prompt him to answer nor will it convince the members of this company that you are sane, my dear," came an aged voice from beside me. I gave another cry of surprise that seemed like the billionth time in the past few minutes. The Wizard turned his head to smile at me. "You gave Ori quite a fright."
Looking to the side that Fili had just recently vacated, I found Gandalf mounted on his chestnut steed. I ignored his comment and after giving a frustrated groan I dropped my hand from my chest where I had placed it over my rapidly beating heart in shock and I glared at the taller being. "What is with you people and scaring the hell out of me all the time? Jesus Christ…"
I saw Gandalf's bushy grey brows knit over his nose for a moment in confusion and almost slapped myself for mentioning the Christian Patriarch. Damnit, Poppy, you're supposed to have amnesia, not a mental disorder! A second later the Wizard seemed to dismiss his confusion and smiled at me in a way a grandfather would. "Perhaps if you were more aware of your surroundings, scaring you would no longer be an issue."
"Yadda, yadda, yadda . Heard it all before. In case you haven't already noticed, I'm not the most attentive person."
"Then you must learn to be," he replied, his tone suddenly serious. I blinked up at him and watched as his smile had turned from carefree teasing to stern. A look a teacher would give their student. "The wild, especially the wilds of Middle Earth, require you to be on your guard. You never know what may be lurking in the shadows." His one eye squinted slightly as his head tilted curiously and he eyed me. "Though of course you wouldn't remember that, would you?"
The old bugger was smarter than I gave him credit for. He knew there was something off about me –it was obvious. I obviously didn't talk the same way the others did, accent or slang-wise, and the fact that I couldn't build a fire was apparently an odd thing. Bofur had joked that I must have been living in a tree my whole life –which I didn't entirely understand, what was so bad about living in a tree? –but had quickly been silenced by a scolding Balin. 'Shut your gob, Laddie. The Lass lost her memory, don't make it any worse for her than it already is,' he had snapped while he bumped a not so gentle palm over the toy maker's head.
"Nope," I finally replied to the Wizard even though his question was rhetorical. He hummed and turned away and the 'conversation', if you could have even called it that, was ended. We rode on in silence until Thorin called from the front that we were to rest for the remainder of the evening and night beneath a thick canopy of trees. I had heard Dwalin grumbling earlier that he could smell the impending rain in the air and that it was only a matter of hours before the sky opened up and spilled its contents. After hearing this I was dreading the coming night, but was now grateful our fearless leader had chosen this spot; I was beginning to worry I'd have the sniffles by morning. Or, you know, hypothermia or something.
