A/N: Thank you to 19seventythree and sarah0406 for your support. Thanks to everyone who reads.
Disclaimer: I am not Tolkein, and I don't own The Hobbit.
Eda walked paces on the ground, hands at her side and cracking her fingers anxiously. Someone uttered a harsh jibe about her wearing a track into the ground and ruining his nerves, but she didn't look up to see who. It didn't matter in any case, she figured. Her fate currently rested in Thorin Oakenshield's hands. The dwarf king and wizard stood further off to her east. Their backs faced her, only ratcheting her anxiety higher and quickening her pace until she felt nearly dizzy. The rest of the company had collected their weapons and clothes and waited for the two to return.
"That's mine." Eda spun and found herself facing Fili. His eyes were darkened by the same distrust as his brother. Her eyebrows knitted with confusion, and he pointed at her shoulder. "My sword." She had completely forgotten about the piece strapped loosely over her shoulder. Her mouth shaped an apologetic "oh" and she rushed to remove it. He took it silently, returning it to its sheath. As he turned to walk away, she felt her hand fist around a handful of his cloak.
"W-wait," she whispered. "C-can I speak with you?" He seemed less than inclined. "Just for a moment. I promise." His eyes racked over her face, her teeth biting nervously into her bottom lip and the stress peeling at her eyes. He nodded curtly and followed her to a private distance.
"I-I." She let out a frustrated sigh, shifting on her feet while a hand tugged her braid. Fili folded his arms and fixed her with a stare she promptly avoided. "Uh, I wanted to ask why you, uh, why you haven't told anyone I can't read…much."
His eyes held carefully, not yielding a syllable of his thoughts. He let her stew for a moment before replying curtly, "We made an agreement. Dwarves believe in honour and holding to our word. And a signed contract is binding even if the person cannot comprehend it." The words hit of a double meaning. Eda let out a shaking breath.
"Look, I didn't hide to watch you die," she rushed. "And I didn't mean to threaten your party like I did." She at last made eye contact and found his expression betraying curiosity. "I would never put my sins to another's throat." She made sure to hold his eye and speak with as much force as she could muster. "I made a mistake when I said it, I know, and I know you have no reason to trust me—especially given what I stand accused of. But I spoke from desperation, not malice. I was afraid of losing a share of the treasure…" Words ceased, and the pair studied each other cautiously. Fili's eyes flickered with something like disdain.
"Are riches all you think of?" Bewilderment clipped his words. Surely, as a dwarf, he understood the allure of gold and wealth, but that was not the only reason the company stood beside Thorin. And Fili knew if it came to all the gold in Erebor or the life of his fellows, he would readily watch every last gold coin disappear.
"My family cannot eat love nor buy clothes with hope," she replied honestly. "I-I may not have the same grand values as yourself or your kin. Perhaps my reasons for joining your company are less admirable." She drew in a breath. "But they are of no more ill-will or danger than the love of honour and kin." Her courage sparked. "When it comes to the very root, we are all driven by a love of home."
Fili nodded slowly. "You would have done better to make this explanation before the entire company," he remarked dryly. She couldn't help but laugh nervously.
"Perhaps I shall tell each of you individually. By the end, it could be quite poetic," she hazarded a joke to find his eyes lighting a little and the hint of a smile beneath his moustache.
"In that case, you must give your perfected rendition to Kili or Dwalin as both are convinced you are completely bereft of integrity." The words nearly gutted her though she knew she should have expected such. Even after Gandalf's explanation of her disappearance during the troll adventure, Kili retained his wariness of her. Eda didn't know whether to trust him to explain the situation honestly to the other dwarves—even if such an explanation would make a difference. Fili, she could tell, still didn't like her, but the hostility had receded, and she welcomed it like a strong fire in the midst of a northern winter.
"I can only hope Thorin will not tie me to a tree and leave me here," she replied. Humor did a poor job of covering the nerves in her voice and the way her eyes flickered.
"He wouldn't tie you to a tree," Fili assured her. "Someone would knock you unconscious and leave you on a doorstep." He gave her a guarded smile. "We aren't heartless."
"I'm leaving now," she announced flatly, though she smiled as she walked away. It felt like stretching her legs after a long, cramped sleep to speak to someone, anyone, and have them respond with any degree of cordiality. She knew Bilbo tried his best, but her dark mood towards the dwarves had made her less than appealing. Away from Fili's polite conversation, she met a crowd of skeptical stares.
"Where is Thorin?" She dared to ask. Balin let out a sigh, his hands clasped in front of his stomach.
"They have gone to the troll hoard," he replied. His voice contained neither malice nor warmth, but she followed the direction of his finger. The others had started in the same direction.
"Thank you," she murmured sincerely.
"You did right, lassie," Balin's voice stopped her short. "To get Gandalf. We know that." He cocked his head and shot her a piercing look. "But a right choice doesn't make a good person." Her heart's tempo jolted like a frightened hare. His eyes didn't show any hatred, pity, contempt, love or amusement. If anything, their frankness unnerved her more for it felt like he was looking, simply looking at her without any fog of subjectivity. He didn't give her a chance to respond and strode after the others. She stood alone in the woods with a question, no answer and the stark reality of the grave importance of her next move.
Though she would likely never know it, it was Gandalf's support that saved her from Thorin exiling her—by whatever verbal or physical means required. Once she had left them to privacy, it was Gandalf's insistence on trust that Thorin yielded. His words and no small manner of angry passion. He never answered Thorin when asked why he was so insistent on keeping her. He knew he could tell Thorin of their days spent together in the woods, to say he had seen her honesty and heard stories of her family—the people she valued—but to reveal another lie to the dwarf seemed most unwise—even if Gandalf hadn't sworn to secrecy.
He knew Kili's accusations rang strongly in Thorin's own thoughts. For such a small band of travelers, loyalty was supreme. For dwarves, especially, fealty and honor dominated their lives; for was it not in some part Thorin's pride and the kin's injured dignity that drove them to reclaim their home? From father to son, stories of their lost grandeur. Specifically for Thorin, Gandalf knew the dwarf king carried the history of his father and grandfather upon his shoulders. Yet it was never considered a burden by the dwarves. Only to Gandalf, who had to deal with the dwarf's stubborn grudges.
And so, for them to think they had someone in their midst who would readily abandon them—whether for personal safety or coin—struck like the gravest of dangers and insults. But Gandalf knew the woman had values, even if they did not flow from the same noble, historical tributaries as the dwarves. And they did not make her any less of value. If anything, the wizard felt they perhaps put her nearer to the dwarves than they or she could possibly ever realize.
When at last Thorin begrudgingly consented to keeping her, he and Gandalf had departed in search of the troll's hoard. A few of the dwarves accompanied them in, and others warily stood away from the putrid cavern. Again, Thorin's temper struck when he nearly threw down a beautiful elven sword for no crime other than the race of its creators. Gandalf barked harshly at him, his patience bearing thin, and watched with some self-satisfaction as the dwarf was forced to appreciate the blade.
Upon stepping back into the sunlight, Gandalf called Bilbo over to him. Thorin's earlier comment about the Halfling's use in battle had not gone unnoticed—even if Gandalf had been quick to defend the hobbit. He could not forget the way his stomach had seized when Eda had appeared behind him in the night, winded and wheezing as she struggled to shove out the words. "They're in danger." He had immediately returned with her, grateful he'd chosen to turn back earlier and was much closer to the camp than he'd been an hour previous. She tried to explain what little she knew between heaving breaths as they ran. All of Gandalf's mind focused on a curly-haired hobbit he had found in the Shire. He had never promised Bilbo would be safe. He knew no such promises could ever be made. Yet that didn't keep him from wanting to do everything within his power to keep Bilbo alive. Not only to keep his conscience from one more burden, but to keep one more good thing in the world.
And as he thought of what danger may come, he felt even more resolved in handing Bilbo the elven blade. Gandalf almost smiled softly at the hobbit's uncomfortable refusal. He had never expected Bilbo to welcome a sword; perhaps when he was younger, he would have brandished a wooden one in his forest adventures, but that was much different from unsheathing a real weapon.
"And I hope you never have to," he said gently, honestly. "But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life but when to spare one." Bilbo looked lost for words. A shout of alarm pierced a hole in their silence, the following clamour running a serrated blade through to let fresh waves of apprehension upon them. Gandalf shouted for them to take up arms and stay together, hurrying forward whilst drawing his own sword. Yes, the world needed more good things.
"Who do you reckon he is?" Bofur chimed. All eyes followed the stout, peculiar fellow as he trailed Gandalf. It made for quite a sight, Gandalf's grey, lengthy stature beside the short man wrapped in brown and furs.
"Radagast the brown," Bilbo answered. "Gandalf told me earlier. He's a wizard." Several eyebrows shot up at the idea. Having seen the man's queer trick of dropping insects from his mouth, they felt inclined to doubt the man's sanity. The dwarves peeked down the hill at the pair before Thorin ordered them to prepare to leave. They scattered to their various chores; some collected their goods or organized their packs while Thorin sent Bifur and Ori to the horses.
A neat distance from the group, Eda crouched down by the sleigh. Her hand reached out, and she cooed softly. Radagast's rabbits were mammoth in comparison to her usual quarry, and she felt a child-like need to touch one. She had purposefully left her bow and arrow on a bed of moss atop a fallen tree trunk, in full view of the animals' keen eyes. Perhaps they didn't know the purpose of it, but she felt the gesture helped her feel better anyway. And something in their large eyes spoke of reckoning.
Her fingertips stilled several decimeters from one rabbit's nose. He twitched, standing on his hind legs and staring at her cautiously.
"Don't be afraid," she whispered. "I won't hurt you." She smiled. "I promise. And an Eda never breaks her promises." His large ears swiveled in her direction, but he didn't come closer. She took a small step forward, still hunched over her knees, and strained to ghost her fingers closer.
At that second, a howl cracked through the air. Eda shot straight up, thoughts of touching the gigantic rabbits gone like a wisp of smoke in a hurricane. She ran to her bow, grabbing it as she jumped over the fallen tree and bolted the short distance to the group. She broke into the diminutive clearing with barely a second to realize Kili's arrow pointed straight at her. Her legs gave out and she dropped to the ground, her mouth inhaling deep gulps of dirt and damp air. The howl of the warg shot through, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to see it crashing into a tree, an arrow buried in its skull.
"Warg scouts," Thorin declared, yanking his blade from a warg corpse. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind." Eda raised to her feet but felt like she'd somehow left all her organs on the ground. Bilbo beat her to it.
"Orc pack?"
"Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?" Gandalf strode up to Thorin.
"No one," declared the dwarf.
"Who did you tell?" Gandalf's voice raised with impatience. Thorin's vehemence matched.
"No one, I swear!" The dwarves all looked to Thorin for answers though he had none to give. "What in Durin's name is going on?"
"You're being hunted." Her chest could barely fill with air through her subtle trembling. 'Orc pack,' she thought. A traveler, she wasn't unaccustomed to danger or fights. But an orc pack. A pack hunting them. 'Being left on a doorstep sounds like a nice idea about now.'
"We need to get out of here."
"We can't!" It was Ori and Bifur scrambling into view. "We have no ponies. They bolted." Fili rushed to his uncle's side, Kili not far behind, both wearing looks of grim fortitude—although no small amount of uncertainty. Dwalin had taken to cursing, and Gloin had jumped down from his perch. Without any sense of where the pack was, making any decision of direction felt like a gamble with all their lives.
"I'll draw them off." It was Radagast who spoke up.
"These are Gundabad wargs!" Gandalf turned to his friend. "They will outrun you."
"These are Rhosgobel rabbits." The man's voice held gravity, and his eyes darkened with a sort of dark determination. "I'd like to see them try." For a second, the group felt a chance of hope—even if it still felt foolish at the sight of the man jumping on the back of his sleigh. Without a word, the brown wizard pulled away, disappearing into the thick green ocean of the forest. They all fell silent.
"Quick!" Gandalf broke into a run and everyone followed. More howls erupted, drumbeats to the morose song of their swift footsteps and rapid breathing. Fortune smiled upon them, however, as they breached the forest's edge without a single encounter. In the distance, they could hear Radagast's yells mingling under the warg snarls. They ran fast and low, weaving between the rocks and always taking a look around the corners. Radagast proved true to his pride; the wargs were fast, always within a competitive distance, but he and his rabbits dodged the jaws with daring and no short matter of skill.
Unfortunately, his wild paths often forced them to stop or back-track, and Eda felt heartily disoriented after their third turn-around. They ran over the open grass but diverted to hide against a rock when Radagast streaked across the horizon. Eda gulped down air, and she could hear Bilbo similarly heaving beside her. Everyone fell silent, though, the second they heard paws behind their head and a gut-wrenching growl. Thorin looked to his youngest nephew, and Kili nodded. It took only a matter of seconds for him to ready his arrow and step away from the rock. A single shot, and the air ricocheted with the furious howls.
Eda ducked as the warg came tumbling down over their heads. The orc leapt to his feet but was no match for the company's numbers nor fury.
"It made noise," breathed the woman in utter horror. Her eyes widened and one hand instinctively clutched her knife while the other grabbed Bilbo's hand. She took in air, at first willing her heart to calm then telling it to disappear all together. For now was not the time.
Growls, howls and battle cries exploded around them. Gandalf shouted what everyone thought. "Move. Run!" They took off. Subtly gave to the need for speed. They ran through the yellow grass with abandon. At every crest of a hill, Eda would hear someone shout the dreaded words "there they are!" and they would try for another course. Until the very last when everyone stopped. No one looked in the exact same spot, and yet everyone had the same view: wargs and orcs creeping closer. They were surrounded.
Kili shouted something, and Thorin yelled back to shoot them. It had come to it. Fighting. Nowhere left to run. Eda sheathed her knife and removed her bow, knocking back an arrow before her nerves could catch up. Her first arrow caught a warg in the eye, and it crumpled.
'It's hunting,' she told herself. Her heartbeat measured her breaths, and her fingers tightened around her bow. 'Hunting.' Another arrow and an orc fell from his disgusting mount. But somewhere she knew it wasn't. Rabbits didn't hunt you back. And deer didn't kill you when you ran out of arrows. She took a step back and fired an arrow at the closest warg. Yet they kept coming; it was like trying to fight a tide.
"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin's voice rang out gruffly.
"Hold your ground!" Another arrow, another breath. Her fingers shook as she reached into her quiver. How many arrows did she have left? Her heart skipped and thudded to a stony stop when they felt nothing for seconds. Then a fistful of feathers and she yanked one out. 'Don't count,' she ordered. "Shoot." She breathed out and let the arrow fly into the chest of the nearest orc.
"This way, you fools!" Her eyes darted back to the familiar grey and pointed hat. The dwarves needed no encouragement and instantly ran for the rock. Eda let off another arrow and followed suit, stopping only when Thorin yelled out a familiar name.
"Kili! Run!" She skidded to a stop, her eyes searching the tall grass until they landed on his form. Behind him, the wargs had started to run.
"Kili! Watch out!" She shouted before loosing an arrow. He cut to the side as the arrow shot past, imbedding itself in a warg's throat. With the other orcs a safe distance behind, she ran to the rock and dropped into the darkness.