CHAPTER 10
"The hooves on the horse go clip and clop, clip and clop, clip and clop. The hooves on the horse go clip and clop all down the road. The dwarves on the ground go rabble rabble rabble, rabble rabble rabble, rabble rabble rabble. The dwarves on the ground go rabble rabble rabble all through the night. The wolves in the South Downs go-"
Arrrrrrrrrow
A howl pierces the early evening sky, interrupting my low melody. Kneeling on my cot, I can see the entire camp from my spot as easily as the entire camp can see me. Most of them ignore the lonely sound, while others lift their heads to examine the dark trees before going back to their previous tasks. The company, with the exception of Bilbo, it's wholly unconcerned. The burglar, who has been placed as close to me as proprietary allows, is clearly ruffled by the noise. Swallowing a hard gulp of his stew, he leans over to me with a whisper.
"There are wolves out there, young Miss. They... They do not seem close and the dwarves do not seem worried in the least." Twisting his bowl in his hands nervously, the hobbit looks to need more reassuring than I do "I am sure we are safe but... I do not like wolves..."
"Most people do not. They don't have the best reputation after all. Still, they aren't the vicious murderers that people make them out to be." Looking into the fire, I catch Dwalin's gaze by chance. Seeing him makes my face twist into a vengeful frown "My dog was half wolf and he never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it."
The bald dwarf paints his face with a frown of his own but he does not verbally respond. Instead, he keeps my eyes enslaved as he dips his head minutely and without remorse as if to say 'Yes, I killed your dog but I do not regret it.' His acknowledgement makes me hate him a little more and a little less at the same time. The mixed emotion has me breaking the staring contest first, just in time to catch the tail end of Bilbo's conversation.
"Will you tell me of it? Your dog?"
No one has bedded down yet. Everyone is still up and at 'em, so I have no fear of getting mixed up with Thorin's big movie cliff moment. I do however, run the risk of letting it slip that I have a heart. That could be catastrophic for me. You can't hurt a cold hearted bitch and an Ice Queen invites no warmth or compassion. But a broken hearted girl? A broken girl is expected to cry and be protected for her piteous existence. I can't be that broken girl, even if I already am. I'd rather their hatred than their pity and by my reckoning I'm quickly earning it. Not speaking now would show a tender heart and ruin my steely image. Something I cannot afford after the Kili fiasco.
"His name was Killer."
"Oh. Was he named for... um... Well... e-experience or... Wishful thinking?"
"He was named to strike fear into the hearts of our- MY enemies."
"Our?"
"Ah..." I hadn't caught myself quickly enough to correct the word effectively. I suppose that even with my desire to keep myself a secret, I cannot do the same with my sister. I love and miss her too much to act as if she doesn't exist "Yes. Our. My sister and I. My grandfat-"
"You have a sister?!"
Rubbing my eyes Kili's shout, I frown. I knew someone would be eavesdropping but thought they'd have the decency to be quiet about it. Shifting into a pretzel style sitting position, I prop my head on my hand as he continues.
"A sister?"
"Yes."
"You?"
"Yes, me."
"I sure hope she's nothing like you..."
"Uh huh. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, my grandfather gave us Killer for our 15th birthday. He was a gorgeous dog back then. Fresh out of adolescence; he was strong and would be for years to come." Bilbo's eyes shift at the phrase 'our birthday' but he says nothing about it. At least someone has some tact "The world is a dangerous place and a girl can use every advantage she's given."
"He brought the danger into your home by welcoming a wolf across its threshold." Stalking past my place, Thorin makes his way to the stonewall that will serve as his napping spot "Your grandfather was foolish."
"Oh I'm sorry, but didn't your grandfather inadvertently call a dragon on to your ancestral home, leading to the mass genocide of your people, and a pretty high number of years dedicated to wandering in the wild?" The camp goes quiet and still at my statement. I really hadn't thought of the words before I said them but even I can admit they are kind of mean, though accurate. They also cannot be retracted, so I must stand by them. No one says anything as the seconds tick by with the only sound being the crackle of the fire "Do not speak ill of my family. I assure you, that the sins of your own will always be more impressive. Good night."
Sliding into my makeshift bed, I close my eyes and wait. My temper has always been a nasty thing but it's my mouth that gets me into the most trouble. I know that and I know that comment was probably a very bad move on my part. Mostly because I'm surrounded by his followers and it's a sensitive topic. That doesn't mean I regret it or that I was wrong in my assessment. Killer was a great guard dog. Smaug is a great killer. Thror's mistakes outweigh Grandpa's and Thorin really shouldn't have set himself up like that if you ask me... not that I expect anyone will really take my side in that. Biting my lip gently, I just hope I don't get shanked in my sleep.
"Gandalf... She isn't eating."
Sitting beside the wizard, the hobbit watches the young woman anxiously as she fitfully sleeps. She is not adjusting to the situation well and that worries him. Her words grow more cruel with each interaction but worse, they become more true. The dwarves clearly do not appreciate her honesty but it is her health that the hobbit worries for most.
"That is your concern?"
"Perhaps if she ate, she would be... less abrasive. In the past few days, I've seen her eat only a single slice of bread..."
"Her ill manners are attributed more then to the emptiness of her belly, though I am sure hunger plays a part. IF she is hungry." Puffing on his pipe, Gandalf settles into his claimed place comfortably "We do not know enough about her to determine the underlying causes of her unrest."
"... She should eat. No one can think clearly on an empty stomach."
"Well..." Acknowledging the fact with a rise of his brow the wizard nods towards the young woman "Feed her then, if you can."
"I... I shall."
Rising and dusting himself off, the hobbit marches over to the pot of stew only to find it sorely empty. Bombur is even in the process of cleaning it to be put away for the night. Knitting his brow in contemplation, Bilbo pats his pockets searchingly. He comes across a shiny red apple, one he was saving for his pony as a peace offering, but believes the young woman needs it more.
Silently approaching the slumbering bundle, the hobbit clears his throat loudly. It fails to awaken the girl but before he can try again, a cry lights the night. It startles the poor creature so deeply that he drops the apple which strikes the girl on the head, resulting in her bolting upright in fright. Her naturally pale skin is worsened by her fear but colors hotly as she recognizes the snickering of the youngest dwarves.
"Oh my! I do apologize, Miss! I thought you might be hungry so I brought you an apple but the... the um... What was that sound? "Orcs."
Atina's mouth pulls into a frown as the show begins. Rubbing her sore temple, she opts to fill her mouth with the offending apple rather than words.
"Orcs?!" Voice rising in pitch, the hobbit's fear easily awakens the uneasy King from his fitful rest "Th-There are Orcs out there?" "Throat cutters. There'd be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."
"They strike, in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood." Turning a grin to Atina, Kili wiggles his fingers at her "Are you scared, young Miss? I am sure Master Baggins will protect you. I doubt you'd want one of us dragon calling slaves to do it. Not that we'd wish to either. "
The youngest heir is sure he will finally get a rise out of the young woman; payment for her earlier offences, but her gaze is cold and without emotion. She bites into the apple calmly, offering only a small smirk as if waiting for something amusing to happen. So intent on her is he, that the young dwarrow visibly flinches at his uncle's stern voice.
"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?"
"We... I-I-"
"Imbeciles can still be killed and Orcs would slaughter Master Baggins before he could think to protect the little spy from their advances. No matter how unbearable she is, we have given her our word that she would be under our protection while in our care. Yet you threaten her openly with rape and murder? This is not a joking matter."
"What!? A jest. It was only a joke. W-w-we didn't mean anything like that by it, uncle..."
And they hadn't. In their youthful minds, the two heirs had intended only to frighten the outcasts, not to threaten them. Kili had gone further with the joke than his brother, but it was not with any true harm. Despite their dislike of Atina's attitude and the weakness of the hobbit in question, the duo is an interesting addition to the company. Earning Thorin's ire was not the youngster's goal at all.
"No. You didn't. You know nothing of the world."
Balin begins a riveting rendition of the battle for Moria, ridding the company of all sense of self. They hold on to every word as if it would be the last they ever hear. Even Atina, who has heard the story enough times to make herself sick, listens keenly.
Perhaps it is the realness of it that sets her heart ill-at-ease because ill-at-ease she is. For the first time since hearing the tale, she hears its pain. It eats away at her resolve and had she been just a touch more innocent of the world's cruelties, she'd have shed a tear. Instead, she grants the King the same begrudging respect that she demands for herself. No pity lingers on her face as he passes by, merely acceptance of who he is because of what he has lived through.
Thorin meets her gaze and stunned by the recognition he sees in it, he stalls for only a moment. In that fraction of a second, the two stubborn individuals understand each other in their loss better than they ever thought possible. Their battered souls acknowledge each other, accepting that the other's pain has made them who and how they are. It does not make them friends nor even more likeable to each other but the competitively antagonistic aura disperses in an instant. No one else is privy to it, in fact no one even notices the change.
"And the pale Orc?" Looking between the enthralled members, Bilbo's curiosity remains untamed "What happened to him?"
"He slunk back into the hole whence he came." Turning away, the king finishes his departure "That filth died of his wounds long ago."
Released from the binding spell, Atina peers down at the half-eaten apple in her lap. Appetite gone, she gets up and feeds it to Myrtle; keeping her mouth shut about the pale Orc's whereabouts.
Understanding. Thorin has been through some mess. So had Atina. They are learning that their problems aren't the only ones in the world. Everyone has a story, so don't judge then too hardly.