Chapter 8
"It's Magorpîn's. He has fallen."
"No…" One of the dwarves whispered, though no one could tell who it was. The dwarves murmured amongst themselves in disbelief.
"How?" Bilbo whispered, choking back an unexpected sob. His mind kept flashing back to how fast Magorpîn moved and her promise to keep him safe…he couldn't grasp how she could be gone.
Thorin stood up, guilt written all over his face. "There was an orc ready to throw his ax at me. I was able to move in time, but I failed to see the warg coming…Magorpîn didn't and he pushed me in right before I saw him get bit by that damn wolf. He is dead."
A loud shriek came from above and a dead orc tumbled through the entrance, an arrow lodged into its head.
Dori recognized the arrow. "Elves…"
Thorin did not seem to have heard, still shocked at the sudden loss of a warrior they were just beginning to know. The sounds of hooves thundered above them, followed by the wails and howls of the orcs and wargs.
"We must move," Gandalf ushered them through the tunnel. "Come Bilbo."
"She's still up there, Gandalf," Bilbo found himself hissing. He'd never lost a friend to battle before but leaving her body behind felt so wrong. "We have to—"
"We have no time," Thorin snapped angrily, finally regaining his sense. "Move, hobbit."
"Magorpîn's in good hands now." Gandalf glanced at Thorin, who did nothing more than clench his jaw.
Hot, indignant anger coursed through him. Gandalf speaks as if Buffy was already with the angels...as if she had not just been brutally killed. Bilbo started walking but swallowed the tears that were threatening to come out.
The hobbit glared at the back of Thorin's head as they walked through the tight space. It felt so…wrong leaving her body up there to be eaten by wargs. Bilbo looked at the rest of the dwarves. Everyone had a solemn air, and once in a while, a dwarf would look back from whence they came. Part of Bilbo was satisfied to know that even the dwarves thought it wrong to leave Magorpîn's body behind. He was about to give his piece of mind to Gandalf, but one look at his dark face, and he changed his shut his mouth.
Then the crack opened to an amazing sight.
"Here stands the Last Homely House West of the Mountains. In Westron, it's called Karningul but it is also known by its other name—"
"Rivendell," Bilbo could not help himself murmur in wonder. Elves…they were near elves! Even from this far away, he could smell the freshness of the water and feel the spray from the multiple falls from this far up. Rivendell looks heavenly and peaceful. Just the kind of place he would love to retire to.
Bilbo clenched his jaw, Buffy would have liked this place…
In spite of the loss of their friend, he could tell that everyone was astonished. Everyone that is, except Thorin.
"So this was your purpose," Thorin growled, his patience long gone. "The elves will not condone our quest and I do not want their help. Twice they've failed to aid my brethren, what makes you think I'd want to be anywhere near their kingdom?"
"Of course they're not going to approve of our journey, but there are some things that are beyond my knowledge. Whether you like it or not, we need their help and the only hostility here is the one you bring, Thorin Oakenshield," the wizard huffed and urged the rest to keep going.
It took them a good hour to walk down from the hidden passage and enter the front gates. Bilbo, tired as he was, refused to show his fatigue to the rest of the dwarves. He walked like the best of them, though he wondered if it would be asking too much if they were finally going to have a bed and a hot meal on a proper table tonight.
A tall, dark-haired elf came down the main stairs and greeted Gandalf in Sindarin. Bilbo noticed that the elf barely flickered an eye at the rest of the company, and the hobbit wasn't the only one to realize his blatant behavior. The dwarves bristled and if it was possible, Thorin's glower turned darker.
"Greetings to you my friend," Gandalf replied back pointedly in Westron and with a bow. "We are here to see Lord Elrond."
The elf stiffened and gave a strained smile. "My Lord Elrond is not here. He is—"
A loud horn blasted through the valley, signaling the arrival of a troop of elves. The dwarves however, took this sound as similar to a battle horn and went into a defensive formation. For the second time that day, Bilbo found himself being shoved behind with Ori as the rest of the dwarves formed a circle, their swords drawn. Although the hobbit thought that they looked like a formidable sight, they were quickly surrounded by tall elves on tall horses.
Bilbo knew that hobbits were one of the shorter races, but he had never felt quite so small as today.
One of the elves on horseback rode pass them carrying the familiar cloaked form of Magorpîn. Everyone looked at him; there was blood everywhere. He was wrapped in white linen that had already turned red. His clothing were in shreds and his cloak took the worst of it. The dwarves shuddered to think at the amount of injuries he had sustained before finally dying.
Then, the movement of the horse caused his hood to fall off revealing Magorpîn's face. Though brief, everyone managed to see enough of his features to realize that he was actually a she. Her slender nose and soft cheekbones somehow made her mouth—the only feature they were familiar with—suddenly look all too feminine. They saw her golden hair caked with a mixture of orc, warg, and her own blood. Purple bruises were beginning to appear on the side of her neck before disappearing under her clothes.
Soon they were out of sight, leaving nothing but a trail of her blood on the stony pathway.
Everyone took a startled breath and murmured amongst themselves. Bilbo turned just in time to see the Thorin's face turn ash.
"By Durin…she's nothing more than a mere lass."
"Could it really be…?"
"Where are you taking her?" Dwalin sputtered angrily. "He—she is our friend and we demand her body back!"
"Dwalin is right. That…woman saved my life today and she deserves to be buried properly," Thorin demanded fiercely, though Gandalf could see his guilt.
There was elf wearing a golden circlet that was conversing with Gandalf. He gave the dwarf-prince a respectful nod after hearing his insistence. "Greetings Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. I welcome you and your company to my humble home. I assure you, I am quite familiar with your friend for she has long been mine. And she does not need to be buried for she is alive. Badly injured, yes, but she managed to kill the warg that had her before we even got to there. Magorpîn will live so long as my healers tend to her."
Bilbo's knees buckled with relief. Buffy…she lives! He turned just in time to see the relief and the conflicting shame play on Thorin's face.
"S-she is not dead?" Thorin whispered, more to himself than to anyone. "Had that warg not killed her then my actions surely would have. I thank you, Master Elf, for bringing Magorpîn back here and saving her. May I inquire the name of our host?" Everybody looked at Thorin in surprise. Even Gandalf did not expect something quite so civil. Inwardly, the wizard smiled. Then Thorin continued, "My fathers have never mentioned you."
Damn the stubbornness of dwarves! Gandalf glared at Thorin.
The elf however simply smiled and ignored the subtle insult. "I am Lord Elrond, Master of this House. Do not worry about Magorpîn. She has a strong heart and heals quickly; it would take more than a warg to bring her down. Now come my friends; eat and rest. It sounds like you have journeyed far."
Buffy inhaled deeply and she could feel herself waking up from her dreamless sleep. She was lying on a bed in a familiar looking room. She sighed contentedly and softly stretched her muscles. Experience had taught her the feeling of bandages and she was definitely bandaged up.
Buffy made a mental count of her injuries.
Cracked ribs.
Broken shoulder.
Sprained wrist.
Probably some internal trauma…Fucking warg.
She felt a soft breeze in the room and it brought the smell of fresh rivers and old trees, allowing her to momentarily forget about her wounds. It's been a while since she's last slept in such comfortable beddings…the elves knew a thing or two about heavenly comforts.
"It was a fine thing you did, saving Thorin," Gandalf's voice interrupted any thoughts of trying to sleep again.
She sighed and turned her head to face Gandalf. There was no use trying to move everything else around; Buffy had felt the warg's teeth cut deep into her shoulder before she killed it. Besides, the herbs that the elves gave her had left her feeling lethargic.
"No personal thank you from the dwarf-prince himself?" Buffy rasped out. She maybe under sedation, but she could remember the pain from her bones cracking under the warg's teeth.
Adding bruised throat to the list.
"Do not be so harsh on him," though Gandalf's voice was soft and without rebuke. He brought a glass of water near her lips and she took it gratefully. "He's already punishing himself for letting a woman nearly die in exchange for his life."
This made her pause, and she chose to ignore the ever-present chauvinism in this world. "They know?"
"Quite simply: yes. And I have a ringing eardrum to prove all the yelling I've had to endure."
"It was your idea," Buffy pointed out. "Did the rest make it okay?"
"Yes, everyone is in one piece. Although I fear your supposed death shocked poor Bilbo. He will try to see you as soon as he possibly can once he hears that you're awake." Buffy nodded, glad to hear that the hobbit was safe. "Actually, everyone would be trying to see you once they hear you're awake…"
"Well…you better not let them hear it for awhile." Buffy yawned loudly. "I'm not really awake right now."
The wizard took her subtle dismissal with a nod. "I'll let the others know." He was about to close the door when Buffy's voice stopped him.
"Did you know that the elves were going to be there?"
"Of course," Gandalf replied as convincingly as he could but did not turn.
Thorin was the first one to see Gandalf return from Magorpîn's room. It was already the day after their arrival in Rivendell and the healers finally deemed Magorpîn's health stable enough for one visit. Everybody had been on edge ever since they knew that Magorpîn was alive, even more so now that they realized that he was actually a she. And while the fact that she was receiving the best elfish medicine and healers in Middle Earth was comforting, none of the dwarves enjoyed their meal or rest last night.
It was the young burglar who inquired for Magorpîn's health first. "How is…is she alright, Gandalf?"
Gandalf patted Bilbo's shoulder comfortingly but turned to address everyone. "What Lord Elrond said was true; Magorpîn will heal though she is not in the state for visitors. I had a few words with her and she was happy to know that everyone made it to Rivendell."
The dwarf-prince sighed with relief, but the guilt of having her blood on his hands still plagued him. Images of her fragile form crossed his mind and his anger at Gandalf returned. This meddling wizard had made him responsible for a woman in his company—without his knowledge! Confound it all. He shot Gandalf another glower before leaving the company. They had already argued, debated, and discussed the wizard's reasons for hiding Magorpîn's true identity from them for most of yesterday but the temptation to bludgeon the wizard was becoming too great to ignore.
Thorin eventually found himself standing in front of her door a little past midnight. He knew that she wasn't ready for visitors, but a part of him needed to see her. Thorin needed to appease the inconsolable part of his mind that Magorpîn was actually a she and to remind himself that she was still alive.
With a sigh, he opened the door to his savior.
It was dark in the room with nothing but the dim light of the moon illuminating the walls. He ignored the lamp that was nearby, preferring not to disturb Magorpîn from her sleep. He crept slowly, afraid to look at the cost of saving his life. Thorin Oakenshield was a dwarf who knew his worth and who had dwarves swearing their life as they followed him to battle. But this girl did not know him, had not pledged loyalty, and still she almost died protecting him.
Her selfless act had left him very shaken.
Like the other dwarves in his company, he had often pondered what Magorpîn looked like under his cloak and grim frowns. Was he a man who carried scars so hideous he did not dare show his face? Did he resemble the pirates from South, wearing tattoos and gaudy piercings? He thought back to what Bilbo had said at the troll camp…scales and boils. Yes, the hobbit's guess was as good as theirs.
As Thorin finally stood near her bed, he almost laughed at how incredibly inaccurate they all were. There in front of him lied Magorpîn without the cloak and dried blood.
His knees buckled at the sight of her, and he told himself that it was from relief that she was alive.
She had no tattoos or piercings to speak of and there were definitely no boils or scales to be found. Her hair shone like fine gold even under the moon and it no longer resembled the bloodied mess they saw earlier. His heart squeezed painfully tight. It reminded him too much of the songs of Erebor, and something akin to longing took hold in his heart, but he refused acknowledge such sentiment.
She looked impossibly small and fragile; could this really be the warrior who fought with him today? Magorpîn moved with such grace and deadly strength that it was almost impossible to believe that this was Magorpîn.
Thorin's eyes flickered over to the dark bruises that formed on her neck and spread under the bandages. This was her proof that she was that same warrior, capable of fighting off wargs and orcs better than any Man, Dwarf, or Elf he had ever seen. He and Balin were right. No man could ever move like that…
A raspy sigh escaped from Magorpîn and the dwarf-prince found himself staring at her lips. It was still set in its usual frown and Thorin wondered what she would look like with a smile. Somehow he knew it would fit her much better. His hand moved of its own accord and it wasn't until he touched her lips that he realized that he had even moved at all. But by then he couldn't stop. With the softest of touches that even he did not know he was capable of, he traced her the curve of her mouth and admired the silky feel.
"Who are you?" Thorin murmured to himself. His fingers briefly touched her smooth jaw before withdrawing his hand.
Magorpîn was full of contradictions and Thorin wished he could understand. He saw her eyes flicker and knew it was time to go. With regret, he turned around and left.
His heart was heavy with the thought that he would never see her again.
A/N: So how did I do with Thorin's reaction to Buffy's reveal? The amount of people wondering if Buffy is going to get paired with someone is growing. If it's not obvious what my answer is now…then re-read the last part of this chapter.
Thank you for all the awesome reviews and comments from last chapter. Seriously. You guys are turning me into a writing machine—I'm already working on chapter eleven. And college is back in full swing. Ridiculous.
(My apologies for grammar/spelling mistakes!)
