Chapter 9:
I leaned flat against Moonshadow's back, stabbing with Glitterthorn and Ripplescale with both hands and clinging to my horse with my knees. My backpack was against my back, blocking arrows. I had been unable to get to my bow, at the pace we were going.
Radagast had split up with me a little ways back, and I now had half the pack on me. We suddenly slowed down enough to make a transaction of weapons, as we had hit a ditch. Moonshadow carefully cantered into it and out of it. Sheathing my swords, I reached for my bow and shot flawlessly back at the Orcs and Wargs, killing a creature with every shot.
It wasn't enough, though. For every Orc and Warg pair I killed, another leaped up to take its place. I curled my lip in disgust as one of the Orcs actually shouted something intelligible: that I was a woman.
At that, the entire pack hooted and spurred their wolves faster, forcing Moonshadow to run even faster to stay ahead. As we sped on, I noticed the dwarves killing a Warg and its Orc. The Warg's screams turned the pack's attention from me, and I swore.
"Get away!" I screamed to Moonshadow as we rode toward them. I ripped my mail off, thinking that it would slow down my running. I stuffed it into my backpack. I fumbled to keep my quiver and bow with me and the knapsack with him. "Run! To Rivendell! We'll meet you there!" Neighing his displeasure, the horse departed, faster now that I wasn't on him.
I was feet away from the dwarves, sprinting after rolling off a galloping horse. It was so much slower, but it served its purpose. Kili shouted for joy to see me okay, and started to run forward.
I grinned back, and then a jolt of pain spread like a wildfire across my back, and I fell forward, almost onto my face. Before I hit the ground, I thought of my stupidity. What kind of idiot takes off a mail shirt, only to be shot in the back?
Kili's POV:
I watched in horror as Freya's face became a mask of pain. She fell forwards, and I could see the Orc arrow sticking out of back, and I remembered seeing her peel the mail shirt off and stuff it into her bag. I swore and put on a burst of speed, hit the ground in a slide and caught her, before standing with her curled in my arms.
I swallowed as she moaned, clawing at my shirt. "Get...going..." she groaned.
"She is right!" yelled Bofur. "We must be going, laddie!"
And so we ran. Fili was beside me, looking worriedly at the pain-filled girl in my arms. "Let me carry her, brother," he said suddenly.
I shook my head wordlessly.
"We need your arrows!" he growled.
I hesitated, then reluctantly handed over Freya, ever so gently. She cried out as Fili's arm jolted the arrow, and I glared at him.
I put all of my fury into my arrows, shooting them with deadly accuracy and killing something with every shot. We were already surrounded, and I heard Thorin shout, "Kili, shoot them!"
I glanced up from the arrow I was firing. Did I just hear...panic in my Uncle's voice? Not possible.
"Where's Gandalf?" someone shouted.
"He's abandoned us!" someone else replied. I heard a racking, cough-like sound from Fili's arms, and I turned to see Freya laughing – or trying to.
"What are you laughing about?" I asked quietly, gently.
"He'll...come. Keep – keep shooting," she gasped, collapsing backwards, senseless again.
"Don't let her talk again!" I spat at my brother, too upset to take notice of his own frustrated expression.
"This way you fools!" yelled a voice that sounded exactly like Gandalf.
"Come on, move!" shouted Uncle, moving toward Gandalf, who stood between two rocks, half hidden. One by one the Company slid down into a crevice.
Thorin shouted, "KILI!"
I spun, hearing my name, and sprinted over, sliding down the rock.
Seconds later came the long blow of horns.
I turned towards Fili, who was still holding Freya, and motioned that I wanted to carry her again.
Suddenly, a dead Orc flew down the hole, landing near my feet. Thorin ripped the an arrow out of the creature's flesh with a nasty squelch, grunting, "Elves."
"I cannot see where the pathway leads!" shouted Dwalin. "Do we follow it, or not?"
"Follow it, of course!" replied the enthusiastic Bofur.
Fili walked over to me with a quiet, "Good shooting, little brother," and transferred Freya into my arms.
I swallowed as we walked, forcing myself not to stare at her blood-soaked shirt or her senseless, pained expression.
"Hurts..." she moaned, shifting slightly, giving a feeble kick of her leg. Her eyes remained closed as she tossed her head from side to side.
I brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead with a shaking finger. "It hit one of your ribs," I told her quietly. "You're lucky it didn't hit your shoulder blade or spine."
She swallowed and cracked open one eye. "Thanks," she croaked, with a hint of sarcasm. "Not – terribly helpful." She suddenly went rigid with a jolt of pain, and gave a harsh yell.
I bit my lip, looking down at her worriedly, unable to do more.
Finally, we broke free of the confines of the pathway, and there was a beautiful, amazing place.
"The Valley of Imladris," said Gandalf. "To the common tongue it is known by another name."
"Rivendell," whispered Bilbo, clearly awed.
Thorin started to argue with Gandalf, but I immediately started walking down the path. Uncle said I shouldn't like elves, but if they could heal Freya, I'd start worshiping them, if that's what it took.
The entire Company began to follow me.
We moved in a line across the bridge, shadowed by a couple angry looking statues.
We all gathered in the courtyard, the others all hostile, as usual, and me just looking for someone to fix Freya.
"Mithrandir!"
We all turned toward a dark haired man walking toward us, hand on his heart.
Gandalf greeted him in Elvish, walking forward. I shifted from foot to foot, impatient.
A horn blared through the air, and everyone's eyes turned toward the bridge, where many horses ridden by many elves came galloping over.
"Move together, form ranks!"
Bilbo and I were pushed to the middle, to protect the three of us. I would normally have been upset, but now...I really didn't care. The hobbit next to me glanced up at Freya worriedly. I didn't try to reassure him.
The elves began to circle us on their horses, staring down at us. The others all raised their weapons, while one Elf turned to face the grey Wizard. "Gandalf!" he greeted.
I clenched my jaw as Gandalf replied, "Lord Elrond!" and then began to speak in Elvish.
"It is very strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near," said Lord Elrond.
"Ah," said Gandalf. "That may have been us."
"Oopsies," snickered Freya. I glanced down at her, but yet again she'd gone limp.
"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," said Elrond as Uncle stepped forward.
"I do not believe we have met," said Thorin.
"You have your grandfather's bearing," said the Elf. "I knew Thror when he ruled over the mountain."
"Indeed?" replied Thorin. "He made no mention of you."
There was a long-ish pause, and then Elrond said something in Elvish that none of us could understand.
"What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" demanded Gloin, leaping forward. Everyone but me and Bilbo began to add more outraged comments, even Fili, until I glared at him.
"No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food," replied Gandalf.
The entire attitude of the group changed. Everyone was now muttering things like, "Fair enough," and "I say we take it."
Finally, I could stay silent no longer. I stepped forward, glaring up at Lord Elrond. "She needs medical attention," I growled, gesturing with my chin at Freya.
"Indeed she does," replied the Elf, bending down to inspect her. I involuntarily took a step back. He was so tall.
He arched an eyebrow. "I am not going to hurt her, Master Kili." He snapped his fingers and two female elves stepped forward as he straightened up. "Take her to a room. I will be there shortly." To me, he said, "They will take good care of her."
I swallowed. "Apologies, and all that bloody, useless shit, but I do not want to let her be alone with you lot."
I heard encouragement and agreement from behind me, which made me stand taller and straighter. Only Gandalf looked disapproving. Bilbo just looked confused.
Elrond looked amused. "Very well, you may go with her."
The two elves he had ordered forth came forward to take Freya away from me, but I growled and hugged her closer to my chest. They simply shrugged and gestured for me to follow them.
Freya's POV:
I woke up out of my haze of pain to find myself in a bed, with Kili sitting next to it. I blinked and swayed as I raised my head off the pillow a bit, muttering, "Am I dreaming? Please don't say that I'm dreaming..."
"You're not," replied the prince sitting next to me. "Lord Elrond has healed your arrow wound, and you are now in Rivendell."
"Wrong chronological order," I muttered.
Kili ignored me and fiddled with his coat, avoiding my eyes. "I'm starting to regret – er, being rude to – him," he muttered.
I looked horrified. "What did you say?" If there was anything I had learned from reading the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, it was that you do not, under any circumstances, be rude to an elvish host.
"I – er – sort of – long story," he stammered. "I'm – er – glad you're okay."
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "Never mind," I sighed.
"He has been worrying by your bedside for a half an hour now," said a cool, calm, calculating voice that could only belong to a female elf. I glanced up as she stepped out of the shadows.
"Has he now?" I asked, sending an amused look at the blushing dwarf.
"Er – well – I was very worried," he said.
I grinned. "Well, Mr. Very Worried, I'm feeling much better now, so why don't you lead me to the other dwarves?" I started to get up.
Far from what I expected, he literally turned his back on the bed, his very ears turning red. He refused to speak. "What?" I snapped.
Another female elf stepped forward. "This is your own fault, you realise," she said to Kili. "You wanted to carry her here and stay by her side."
"What's going on?" I asked.
One of the elves gestured at me. I looked down and then dove beneath the covers. "Clothes," I yelped. "Get – Me – Clothes!"
I sighed for about the fifteenth time in an hour. The elves had given me my pack, Moonshadow having already arrived, but they refused to let me dress as if I were sleeping outdoors. So they had put me in a deep blue dress that matched my eyes, while Kili, blushing fiercely, had left to go tell the dwarves that I was okay.
He had come back within five minutes.
So now I was walking down the hall next to him, struggling not to trip in the pale blue sandals or the hem of my dress, towards the dining area. The elves had consented to let me keep my swords on my back, but I had had to leave my mail (fat lot of good it had done me) and my dagger behind.
I saw the end of the corridor up ahead, and I slowed to a stop. Kili looked inquiring, but allowed the stop, twiddling his thumbs. I glanced down. The dress was a little more low-cut than was my usual style, but nearly so much as to be immodest by my standards. However, I was sure that the style of it, regardless of its low-cut-ness, would be more than enough to knock these male, female-deprived dwarves backwards a notch. Which made me highly uncomfortable, as I was thinking of one dwarf in particular, who had been practically blown off his feet.
I smoothed the front of the dress nervously, wiping my palms at the same time. Then I took a deep breath, and propelled myself forward, brushing an imaginary strand of my wet, freshly-bathed hair out of my face.
I stepped out, over the threshold, into the open-air dining area. I noticed that the dwarves were less than happy about the food.
"Try it," insisted Dori to Ori. "Just a mouthful, you might like it," he reasoned to his younger brother.
I fought laughter as Ori replied stubbornly, "I don't like green food."
Dwalin looked upset. "Where's the meat?" he asked, rooting in his salad as if the elves had hidden it underneath the lettuce.
Gloin glared at a mushroom on his fork.
"Do they have any chips?" inquired Ori.
I gave into the impulse to giggle, drawing attention to me and Kili. Thorin looked suspicious. "Where have you been, nephew?" He took account of my wet hair, and his eyes widened with horror, looking between me and his nephew.
"No – " started Kili, but I cut across him:
"Wait – you think – no! Get your mind outta the ditch, my friend! I took a bath after getting my wound healed while Kili came down here, before I got dressed! Seriously, I may not be extremely proper, but I'm not – no! And your nephew is more 'proper' than you seem to think he is, buddio," I said, struggling to breathe through giggling, an impulse when talking about...things of that nature.
"Yeah," Kili agreed, grinning. "What she said."
I slapped his shoulder, and then promptly tripped over the hem of my dress and would have fallen if not for him.
It was then that the dwarves saw the dress. I blushed at a very enthusiastic response that I looked lovely, yada yada. Kili pulled out a chair for me, and I sat down, eating everything on my plate despite its green colour.
While we ate, Elrond informed Gandalf and Thorin that their swords' names were Glamdring (Gandalf's) and Orcrist (Thorin's). Gandalf's meant Foehammer, and Thorin's meant Goblin-Cleaver.
Bilbo unsheathed his own little sword slightly, frowning at it.
"I wouldn't bother, laddie," Balin said sympathetically. "Blades are named for the great deeds they do in battle.
"What, you think my sword's never seen battle?" asked Bilbo, more confused than offended.
"I'm not sure it's even a proper sword," replied Balin. "More of a – well, a letter opener, really."
I would have snorted at Bilbo's face if I hadn't been sucking on a rather unpleasant mushroom, searching for the right time to swallow it whole (more like spit it into my cup of water) without anyone noticing.
When the meal was over, Elrond asked to speak with Gandalf and Thorin and a few others about the map. I stayed behind with Fili and Kili.
I disappeared for a short time to change into my normal clothes, leaving the dress and shoes for the elves to deal with and walking back barefoot.
I curled up in my blanket, bunching up my cloak for a pillow and tucking my backpack near my stomach. With my stomach full, feeling clean for the first time in weeks (as the elves had cleaned all of my travelling clothes), I felt very comfortable. Pressing my cheek into my cloak, I cracked open one eye.
Kili gazed down at me, an unidentifiable expression on his face.
"What?" I asked.
"Can you teach me that song you sang this morning?"
Was it really only this morning? "What song?"
"The one you sang...before you – "
"Oh, right," I interrupted. I had no desire to have him refer to me bursting into tears. It was embarrassing enough as it was. "It goes like this:
Ho, ho, to the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall, and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
But under tall tree I will lie,
And let the clouds go sailing by."
He smiled and sang it back to me. "Good!" I said.
"It sounds sad," he commented.
"A bit," I said. I settled back in and sang it again.
"Do you know any other songs?" asked Kili curiously.
"Several," I replied, chuckling. "Not many that can be sung without accompaniment, but still." I swallowed and sang the song that Pippin sang to Denethor in The Return of the King, the movie:
Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread.
Through shadow, to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Mist and shadow, cloud and shade,
All shall fade.
All shall...fade.
"That one is even more sad," murmured Kili. I sighed and sang it again softly. The two of us were settled at the edge of the dais, with all the other dwarves elsewhere on it, and no one was near enough to hear what we said or see what we did. Why that struck me at that time, I had no idea.
Hesitantly, Kili placed his hand on my shoulder. I longed to stay awake, as if I was watching a movie, and was falling asleep, but wanted to see how it ended. And so, as Kili parted his lips to speak, I placed one finger over them, shorting out his words. "Tomorrow," I whispered, blinking tiredly.
He captured my hand and brought it back to his mouth, kissing the back of it. "Yes, Freya," he replied softly, letting me drift off to sleep.
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