The bizarre fellow, Radagast the Brown, departed upon his rabbit-drawn sled. Without Daphne. Aleks glared at his back as the idiot wizard vanished from view, resenting every bit of the situation. He'd been free from her!
"We race through camp. Grab only what is at hand. We have no time to waste," Thorin commanded, taking the lead and setting a fast pace through the trees.
Dwalin fell in beside Aleks, the dwarf's hand grabbing his elbow to aid him as he limped as fast as he could.
"Thorin, Master Hunt won't be able to keep up," the dwarf shouted.
Thorin fell back, allowing Gloin and Balin to assume the lead. Aleks forced more weight onto his leg. He'd not slow the group. Oin joined them, the old dwarf's face creased with a mighty frown.
"Naiad!" Thorin's bellow had Daphne spinning around from where she ran sandwiched between Bofur and Bifur. "Do you know what things your brother most needs?"
Daphne's blank face betrayed no thoughts, but she nodded her head.
"I don't trust her," Aleks bit out.
Thorin's hard glare silenced him. To Daphne, he ordered, "Gather his things. I trust you will not betray him in this."
Her face whitened and her lips turned pinched, but she again nodded. "I might be able to give him something to ease his pain," she offered in that toneless voice. She couldn't sound like he mattered less if she tried, Aleks thought sourly.
"I wouldn't-" Aleks objected hotly.
Another stern flicker of the eyes from Thorin silenced him. "We have a healer he trusts. Your aid is not needed."
Bull's-eye, Aleks crowed as she reacted to the smack-down. Without word, she turned around and sprinted away.
Oin pulled a handful of something from his satchel and rolled it into a pellet. "Chew this. Bitter as lost love, but it will dull the pain."
Bitter was an understatement, but Aleks ruthlessly repressed the urge to gag and did as instructed as they continued at a lope back to camp. When they arrived, the dwarves were ready, necessities packed up and loaded onto their backs.
Thorin accepted his gear with a nod of thanks to Fili. Oin pressed Aleks to a seat and frowned at his blood-soaked bandages. The aged healer dug through his satchel, but white gauze suddenly dangled before his face. Daphne.
"We don't need-" Aleks began.
"It will contain the bleeding better than what you have," she told Oin in that unruffled voice. Aleks hated that tone. She next handed a vial of liquid to the dwarf. "Rose and yarrow to staunch the bleeding. Naiads seem to respond to that mixture best." She walked away.
"Where's my stuff?" Aleks growled to her back.
"You can't carry it," she replied in that cool voice.
"I don't want you with-"
Bofur stepped between them, hefting the bag to show it to Aleks. "Aye, so I figured. I have it."
"Oin?" Thorin said with a bite of impatience. "We must hasten."
Oin stared at the materials Daphne had provided, uncorked the vial and sniffed it. "It is as she claims."
Aleks was a heartbeat from objecting before rational thought caught up. Daphne knew more about healing a naiad than Oin. If her concoction would aid them, he'd use it. "Do it," he said, earning a nod of approval from Thorin.
Oin quickly coated his wound with a liberal dose of the liquid and wrapped his leg up tight. Without further delay, they raced from the campsite.
Aleks's leg burned like someone was taking a hot brand to it. Thorin, Fili and Oin kept close tabs on him, and his temper flared up. He'd keep up. They didn't need to treat him like an invalid.
For the first half hour or so, the forest offered them some semblance of cover. Sounds of wargs and orcs rose in the distance, and Aleks had to shake his head. Who would have thought that crazy-looking dude would succeed in keeping the unknown creatures busy like that? And with rabbits of all things.
The Company burst from the forest into an open vista. No, no, this isn't good. Yet, Gandalf led them on. "Hurry, this way," the wizard called, urging them in a northeastern direction.
From time to time, they'd spot the other wizard's sled rushing by, closely pursued by about a dozen of the warg creatures mounted by – Nori confirmed – orcs. The open plateau was littered with rocks and boulders. Aleks discovered he had to take special care with where he placed his feet for fear to turning an ankle or tripping. Scrubby brush and prickly weeds sprouted in patches here and there, but nothing grew large enough to offer any concealment. More than once, the party froze in their tracks between two boulders as the wizard and his entourage crossed into view.
It was while they were huddled behind one such boulder watching Radagast lead the orcs into sight that the stalemate broke. A growl was their only warning. Hugging the side of the odd-shaped rock, Thorin peeked over the top for a split-second. He gestured to Kili to shoot the thing.
Beyond Kili, he spotted Daphne yet again between Bofur and Bifur. Bifur, he didn't really know. The dwarf had an ax embedded in his skull that had left him unable to speak anything but Khuzdul. But the dwarf eyed her closely. Good.
Something flickered across her face as she watched Kili. It was then he remembered. She knew the stories about this world. Gandalf was a major figure. If anything of importance had been recorded about the members of this Company and their pasts, she knew about it.
Kili's arrow flew true and killed the warg on impact, but the orc rider managed to raise the alarm before Dwalin and Gloin dragged him from the rock and slammed their weapons home, Gloin with his long, curved ax and Dwalin a fearsome looking war-hammer.
Aleks stared at the creature for a moment. Distorted cranial features, discolored skin, sharp teeth. He covered his nose and mouth with one hand. Agh. They smelled.
"Fly!" Gandalf cried. "This way!"
They needed no urging, for the orc scouts had left the other wizard and now charged at the dwarves with ground-eating strides. Arrows whizzed by, narrowly missing Ori and Dori.
In less than a minute, the creatures had closed with them. Aleks shot his rifle. A warg pivoted to snarl at him. Aleks backpedaled, thrusting at its face with the butt of his Ruger. Teeth snapped at the gun and clamped down, then with a jerk of its head, it sent the Ruger flying away.
"No!" He'd lost his weapon. How could he lose his weapon in the middle of a fight? Dude…
The orc riding the creature stabbed at Dori. The dwarf parried with his falchion while Nori slammed his mace into the orc's belly and used that leverage to hoist the creature from its seat in an impressive display of strength.
Aleks dodged as the warg lunged at him, teeth again snapping. Hot breath hit Aleks's face. Too close. Roots burst from the ground beneath the warg, lashing and trapping it so fast Aleks blinked. Thicker and thicker they grew until the creature was pinned to the ground.
OoOoOo
I knelt on the ground with palms flat against the hard dirt, pouring life into the dormant root system, waking it, feeding it, and directing it. The effort hurt. My head pounded like a bass drum in the hands of a giddy two-year-old, but I kept siphoning off my energy and pressing it into the roots. Hungry, the dried out root system, and it required more of me than I ever would have suspected. As it slurped up the dregs of my own stores, wooziness snuck in and stole over me in slow stages.
Someone kill it, already.
The warg thrashed against my woodsy chains, snarling and biting until one fiber managed to loop around its snout and lock it shut. My two protectors faded from perception. They fought nearby, I knew, but it took all I had to keep the warg pinned.
Aleks scrambled for his rifle and spun around, shooting it in the neck. He reloaded and shot again. Then Fili arrived, the heir splattered with black orc blood and gore. He spun his butcher-knife of a sword in an arc before slamming it down across the warg's exposed neck. Back blood spurted over both the men. I dropped my efforts and collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.
Not cut out for this.
Callused hands hoisted me up by my arms and got me moving. Bifur, I belatedly identified. Bofur slammed the pick end of his mattock into another would-be attacker and trotted backwards, keeping pace while not lowering his guard.
We retreated across the barren landscape. Through an avalanche of fatigue, I caught glimpses of the others: Aleks using his hunting knife to stab an orc almost on top of Ori; Gloin spinning in a circle, his long ax slicing in to a trio of orcs daring to venture too close; Kili shooting arrow after arrow; and Thorin, his blade wreaking death in a bloody dance no words could adequately portray.
A guttural snarl. Bofur yanked me from harm's way by the scruff of my neck as Bifur impaled the warg with his odd-tipped spear. Bifur shouted something I couldn't understand - Khuzdul? - and flashed me a brief, toothy grin. Bofur laughed briefly in response.
More wargs arrived and rushed past us. Cutting us off. Thorin and Balin retreated and the enemy pressed in.
"We're surrounded!" someone yelled.
"Close ranks!" Thorin bellowed.
"Where's Gandalf?"
"He's abandoned us!"
I knew where Gandalf was. I knew what would happen next, yet fear dampened my skin and tightened like a knot in my chest. This was no movie, and that made all the difference.
"Stay close, lass," a new voice said as a big body took position on Bofur's opposite side. The three family members had formed a wall before me. I turned to meet Bombur's round face.
"Why are you helping me? Why do you care?" It slipped out without warning.
Bombur's head jerked back, his lips parted.
"This way, you fools!"
Finally.
"Go!" Thorin shouted.
In no time, the entire party stood within a cave-like, narrow crevasse located by Gandalf. The peal of an elvish horn preceded the clash of wargs against a new foe, Lord Elrond and Rivendell's forces. Thorin and the others listened with tension vibrating through their bodies as they heard the sounds of battle above us.
A single orc fell down the narrow, sloped path to where we stood. Thorin nudged it to its back with one boot, his jaw clenching as he noted the arrow protruding from its eye socket.
"Elves," Thorin muttered, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his head at an angle to stare at Gandalf. His lips compressed into a white slash. Not the appearance of a happy camper.
"This path goes on a ways up ahead, but I cannot see where it leads," Dwalin approached his king to announce. "Do we follow it or not?"
"Follow it, of course," Bofur replied, making his way to the front of the group. Bifur and Bombur followed, and me perforce with them. It seemed the three were not allowing me to leave their care, and I couldn't fathom why for the life of me. I knew Aleks. Sure as the sun rose in the morning, he'd never have anything good to say about me.
"I think that would be wise," Gandalf said from behind us.
The ceiling above split as we progressed, turning the closed-in, suffocating confines into a narrow, winding stone cathedral. Light flooded in from the slit far overhead, dashing the sense of an oppressive weight ready to crumble and bury us at any moment. Hugging my arms to me, I breathed deeply and turned my face up into the light. Bombur's gentle grasp on my elbow kept me moving.
The path twisted and turned, looping back upon itself as it crept ever downward. The walls bracketing us were worn smooth, their surfaces at times startlingly beautiful as the muted grays and browns were shot through with sudden streaks of a coppery shimmer.
Conversation flowed among the others. Aleks, I could hear, had found himself a new home with this crew. He joked from somewhere behind me, jesting with the dwarves as if they'd been in his life for years, not the scant week I knew it to be.
I blew out a breath, my chest tight. With a muffled oath to myself, I yanked hair from my mouth. So Aleks had landed in relative safety and found a place for himself, and I'd ended up in the shadow-infested ruins of Dol Guldur alone. The tightness in my chest migrated up to my throat, and I bit down on my inner cheek. A part of me observed that life could be brutally fair at times.
I bumped into Bifur's back. The scruffy, wild-haired dwarf called incomprehensible words over his shoulder. Bofur guided me to the side and out onto a landing, and there it was: Rivendell. The Valley of Imladris.
OoOoOo
Thorin's spine was as stiff as a poker as the dwarves followed Gandalf into the valley and towards the settlement nestled far below. Rivendell, Aleks had heard Bilbo name it. The name rang familiar, and for the hundredth time, Aleks cursed himself for not seeing the movies. Even if the events of this quest were not covered, it would be nice to have some idea of the geography.
Or the political undertones.
What was it about this place that set Thorin so on edge? The king looked to be going into the enemy's lair, and the other dwarves didn't look much happier. Balin stroked his beard, his eyes narrowed and gaze shifting from side to side. Dwalin had a death grip on his war hammer, his nostrils flared and bald head shiny with perspiration. Bombur's round face was uncharacteristically devoid of warmth, and Ori clutched his slingshot to his chest with a white-knuckled hold.
The only two not showing signs of strain were Bilbo and Daphne. Bilbo continued to gape as they neared the town, and Aleks didn't much blame him. Ornate bridges spanned dozens of burbling streams and creeks that all emptied into a wider, wilder river separating the bulk of Rivendell from the base of the path leading to it. The bridges looked like frosting filigree, something off of a fussy woman's elaborate wedding cake. Curlicues of white wood or metal – Aleks couldn't tell which – laced the sides and tops of each bridge.
If the bridges were fantastical, the structures composing Rivendell were the stuff of a chick's dreams. Impossible spires with open balconies in organic shapes loomed overhead as if trying to outdo the behemoth waterfall splashing down at one end of the settlement. Roofs peaked in multiple places, granting the structures a more tent-like appearance. More filigree decor lined walkways and outdoor, spiral stairwells.
Their wizard led them across bridges - and up close, Aleks was astounded that the delicate constructs would support the weight of the hobbit, much less the entire Company - and down walkways to a round, pillared courtyard. Here is where Gandalf stopped, his hands about his staff as he waited. Aleks's eyes swept across his friends' faces, halting abruptly upon her. No distrust, no wariness in her. That blank face remained. Daphne was as composed as ever, and it made his hands clench into fists at his sides. Did she not care what happened to these dwarves?
Of course she doesn't. She cares about one person. Herself. A part of him wanted to object, but he drowned it out. What other conclusion was there when everyone else was tense and worried, and she showed as much care on her face as if she was standing in line at the Dairy Queen?
Movement on the winged, swooping stone stairs caused him to abandon his scrutiny of her. Someone was descending to their level.
Thorin signaled subtly and the dwarves huddled together, Bilbo, Ori and himself in the center. A second later, Daphne was thrust to his side, Thorin's long look telling him not to object. Aleks's jawbone ached as he bit back the words he longed to utter. His skin fair prickled with the sensation of spider's legs as he inched away from her, putting Ori between them.
A robed man, tall and thin, stepped off of the bottom stair, his fine, straight hair hanging freely across his chest and back. Were those pointed ears?
"Mithrandir," the man greeted, his head inclined. Aleks thought he'd never seen such an effeminate face on a man before. Smooth skin, delicate features.
Poor sap.
"Ah, Lindir," Gandalf replied, bowing his head in return. "I must speak with Lord Elrond."
The male's gaze scanned their group so quickly it was over before Aleks could blink. If he thought them dangerous or alarming, he gave no indication of it. "Lord Elrond is not here," the male said.
"Not here?" Gandalf sounded dismayed to Aleks. "Where is he?"
Who is Elrond?
Horns broke the silence, followed by the clatter of horses' hooves. Aleks spun around to see twenty or more of the smooth-faced people riding right for them, each clad in glittering armor.
"Form ranks!" Thorin bellowed.
The dwarves hefted their weapons, standing at the ready. Aleks loaded his rifle and waited.
OoOoOo
"Form ranks!"
I swayed on my feet from exhaustion, just shy of rolling my eyes at the paranoia of the dwarves. The Last Homely House had to be the single most hospitable place in Middle Earth, yet here they were, arming themselves for an unnecessary confrontation. Bofur's winged hat almost smacked Bifur in the face as the toymaker/miner turned to check on me for a moment. His green-brown eyes held mine for a heartbeat, and then he faced forward, his grip on his mattock firmer.
What, pray tell, did that mean? A warning not to stab them in the back?
I remained silent as Elrond greeted Gandalf before turning to Thorin. How long will this take? My hand crept into my tote to dig out a Snickers square, and I popped it into my mouth after a slow, careful look around.
Not careful enough, apparently, as Bombur's dark brown eyes snared mine, his lips twitching. Without a word, I pressed another confection into his hand, my own lips trembling with the strain of stifling laughter as he tossed the Snickers into his mouth and began to chew, he cheeks flushing and a small, irrepressible grin visible even around his bushy beard. His brown brows winged upwards.
We both missed some of the interplay between the elves and dwarves, but the bristling of Gloin with, "What does he say? Does he offer us insult?" sure brought us back to attention. The air around us fairly crackled with hostile indignation.
"No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food," Gandalf said.
The dwarves leaned back, whispering among themselves. A second later, Gloin stepped forward. "Very well, then. Lead on."
They followed Lindir deeper into Rivendell.
I slowed as I neared Lord Elrond, unable to just walk past. I mean, Lord Elrond. From the corner of my eye, I saw the way Aleks stiffened and stomped off, and Bombur and Bofur paused, arms crossed before their chests and matching expressions pasted to their faces. Something there carried me past the elf lord and to their side.
Bombur leaned in. "Stay close to us, lass. We'll let no harm befall you."
OoOoOo
Dinner in Rivendell consisted of a whole array of silver platters and bowls, each brimming with assorted breads, fruits, and salads. Aleks ate with relish, filling his plate time and again while his companions picked through the food with ill-concealed disappointment and distaste.
Thorin, he noted with a snort, showed no such qualms. The king sat at the head table along with Lord Elrond and Gandalf, discussing the weapons they'd found in the troll cave. Their leader ate the food before him between comments and listening intently to the other two. If he had any complaints about the food, he was too kingly to reveal them to his host.
Even if he didn't much trust or care for his host.
"I don't like green food," Ori said from his seat a few places down. Aleks grinned around a mouthful of crisp greens as Ori's older brother, Dori, attempted to coax him into eating more of the offerings, but he didn't seem to be having much luck.
Aleks shifted in his seat, his bandaged leg surprisingly pain-free considering what it had endured. Elvish medicine had proved remarkable. He'd hated to accept the help, but Gandalf had insisted, professing Lord Elrond to be the premier healer in Middle Earth.
Oin is as able, he thought with a spurt of resentment, loyalty winning out. Still, he felt better. Stronger. He was surrounded by his new family in safety. The only fly in his enjoyment sat at the other end of the table, silent. Bofur and his brother and cousin laughed and joked beside her, but she remained an island of calm unmoved by their humor.
Even those three can't thaw the Ice Princess. He rolled his eyes and took another long draught of the fine wine they'd been served.
OoOoOo
I poked at my food. My feet were ecstatic that they'd been relieved of duty, but the rest of me wanted more. Like, say, sleep. Visions of comfy beds danced through my head. (Who needed sugarplums?) Maybe a quiet corner away from all these strangers.
Beside me, Bombur and Bofur had given up coaxing me into conversation and chatted with each other in a never-ending stream of observations interspersed with a goodly dose of teasing. That the three were not impressed with elven men was an understatement. They commented about their lack of facial hair, their flowing robes, and their feminine gaits. It rather made it funnier when Kili made a comment about an elf maid only to expire from mortification as Dwalin informed the young dwarf that the maid in question was no such thing, but a male instead.
Even I couldn't repress the curl of my lips at that. Bofur caught me at it, and I sobered up fast. Bah, this tiredness was doing me in. I could not get close to these dwarves. They had welcomed Aleks into their midst. They were his. And what was his would never be mine. Aleks would make sure of it. Plus, there was the tiny issue of inadvertently rewriting history with a slip of the tongue.
Still, my gaze kept pulling in the young prince's direction like a moth to a flame. If the fangirls back on Earth thought the actor portraying Kili cute, they really needed to see the real deal. His rugged and masculine good looks left me blushing every time my eyes wandered his way. It was ridiculous and embarrassing. I plunked my head down on the table.
"Alright lads, there's only one thing for it," I heard Bofur suddenly proclaim.
For real? My head popped up. Bofur climbed up onto the table as bold as brass and began to sing. The dwarves all perked up, pounding utensils upon the table and joining in with merry grins. Bofur was completely in his element. He hammed it up, dancing between plates and mugs.
A laugh escaped me. Then another. It was so silly, yet the silliness felt like a breath of fresh air. I didn't see who threw the first fistful of food, but in seconds, Bofur was dodging food projectiles, laughing as he finished his song with a flourish.
He bowed and winked at me as he reclaimed his seat. "I knew ye had it in you."
"Pardon?" I asked.
"A smile, lass." A big grin. He lifted his mug in a silent toast and took a deep draught.
"Master Hunt? Mistress Hunt?"
I craned my neck around at Gandalf's summons, my amusement fading upon sight of his stern visage. Gandalf beckoned Aleks and me with a crook of his finger. "Lord Elrond and I must speak with you both."
"What possible business does the elf have with them?" Thorin's quiet question held a note of warning. By my side, Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur reacted, their hands dancing near weapons though they maintained a facade – by now, I was certain it was a facade – of ne'er-do-well, simpleton dwarves. Okay, Bofur and Bombur maintained that facade. With the ax embedded in his forehead, Bifur could never pass for anything approaching amiable.
I collected myself to stand, but Bofur reached out with two fingers to my wrist, halting me.
"No harm will come to them," Lord Elrond assured. Younger of appearance than the movies, Elrond was an elf lord in his prime. A handsome one, too, with black, glossy tresses and sharp-edged cheek bones.
No wonder Celebrian fell for him.
"No, it won't, because if you wish to speak with them, it will be with us present," Thorin said, rising to his feet and planting himself between our table and the wizard and elf. Gandalf opened his mouth, I suspected to object, but Thorin continued, "They are members of my Company and under my protection. Balin."
The other dwarf shot to his feet.
Thorin's eyes never left the two before him. "You as well, my friend," Thorin said.
Balin nodded his head. "Aye." The shorter dwarf clapped Aleks on the back as my brother rose, then beckoned me with a tilt of the head. I found myself staring at my three protectors, like they could intervene or some such nonsense.
Bombur with his wide face, fleshy jowls and dark eyes was nothing like his movie depiction but for his obvious love for good food. His hair was a dark chestnut, not a flaming, fuzzy red. Kindness seemed present in his eyes more often than not, and he inclined his head towards me in encouragement.
Bifur? He had hair that was a wild, gray-streaked version of his cousins'. One would never believe him to be a toymaker by appearance, but knowing that encouraged me to believe there was a great deal more to him than his fearsome visage suggested.
And then there was Bofur. What could I say, except he was Bofur? The hat was almost dead-on to his movie presentation, and his hair and beard were a rich, dark chocolate brown. He lacked the youthful air that persisted to grace Fili's and Kili's faces, but he was not old. Nor, for that matter, were Bombur or Bifur. The three were mature. Men, not untried youths.
I had nothing I could think to say, so I joined Balin and Aleks in trailing along behind Gandalf and Elrond from the open dining room. Our footsteps rang out like a funeral dirge, or so it seemed to my mind. My sneakers squeaked once or twice, breaking up the somber beats and earning me a brief look-over from Gandalf.
Elrond paused before a set of carved, gilded double doors. Grasping the handles, he opened them both at once. With a graceful little pivot, he waved us inside. Thorin marched in with a cursory glance at his surroundings, Balin at his shoulder. Aleks remained close to the dwarf king, and when Lord Elrond gestured towards seats clustered in one corner of the room, he quickly claimed the seat closest to the two dwarves.
I stood rooted near the door. Elrond's study was everything I'd ever imagined it to be. Leather-bound books lined rich wooden shelves that arched to the ceiling, which was itself a thing of art high overhead. This was a collection accumulated over countless centuries. The space had to be a good twenty by thirty feet with elaborate rugs covering the golden marble floor. Soft, leather furniture sat here and there, and a heavy, mahogany desk dominated the far end of the room.
Despite its elegance, this room held a homely appeal. It offered comfort and respite. I could almost visualize Elrond enjoying quiet conversation with his sons and daughter here.
"Lass?"
I tore myself free at Balin's call and sat next to him as he indicated.
"Now, perhaps you will tell us what the purpose of this meeting might be," Thorin said once I was settled. His hands were interlaced across his belly as he sat, but his brows were lowered, his gray eyes like banked thunderheads, ready to unleash their fury if provoked.
"As Gandalf has stated, we mean your companions no harm," Lord Elrond said as he leaned against the desk. His eyes, a deep storm gray, alighted upon Aleks, then me. "You are not of a people native to Middle Earth. How did you come to be here?"
"Does it matter? They are here now," Thorin commented.
Gandalf shifted his staff from one hand to the other. Standing near a window, the wizard shot a frown Thorin's way. "Of course it matters. Things are moving within Middle Earth. The arrival of these siblings at this time - one within Dol Guldur itself - needs addressing."
"Dol Guldur?" Elrond tapped fingers on the edges of his desktop. "The abandoned fortress?"
Gandalf inclined his head. "Though Radagast informs me it may not be abandoned any longer." The two exchanged a long, significant look. "We will seek aid in returning you both to your realm. There are those dwelling in Middle Earth with vast stores of knowledge. It is my hope one might possess the clue to making this return possible," Gandalf informed us with a polite upturn of the lips. It wasn't a smile, because it wasn't sincere. The warmth emanating from it couldn't fill a thimble. To me, it seemed Gandalf was uncertain about Aleks and me, especially when combined with what Radagast must have told him. He wanted us and the uncertainty we presented removed from the playing field.
I could have been reading him wrong, but that was my impression, and when Thorin spoke up, I suspected he was of the same frame of mind as me. "I don't recall Aleks asking you to return him," he said mildly.
"This is not his world," Elrond interjected.
"It is not your decision to make," Thorin said, his voice flat. "I will not allow you to make decisions for him that effect his life. You have no right."
What was that sound? Right, that was me being tossed under the bus. Thanks, Thorin. Viewed dispassionately, it wasn't shocking. He'd traveled with Aleks for over a week now. He knew him so it was natural he'd defend him first. But I wasn't feeling dispassionate. I felt alone.
And I began to get mad.