Sorry for the delay. I have classes and I'm barely getting back into the groove of being a happy-ish person. I'm finally seeing why people find escape in writing. All of you with your reviews, ideas, and favs/follows make it worth it. You don't know how much. I'm going to try to put out a chapter a week this year, no matter what. Thanks for all your support, I'm happy to write Aria and Company, they send their thanks as well!
Check out my new Avengers story, You See It's a Funny Story, as well! I'm so happy to tell you that my writing has gotten better since I first started posting. Hopefully once I finish this TTS, I'll go back and rewrite it.
So read and review, please. Tell me what you think.
All rights to Tolkien and Jackson, OCs are mine.
Chapter 13- Long Time, no Bree
Instead of writing every little detail for every little second that occurred on the road to Bree, I have a better idea.
I'll skip to the highs and the lows.
Be warned that things will get a little hairy...see what I did there?
Yes, Kili, it was a pun. Yes, for Dwarrow, duh. What?! Exsqueeze me? NO! My legs aren't that hairy! They have more hair than your face! Fine, I'm sorry Kili. Happy Bilbo? Now let me finish the story. Sheesh, parents, ya know?
Also note: Potholes are the spawn of Hades. End note.
What is a Name?
As much as I would love to say that after leaving the Old Forest that the Company and I got along famously, so much that we came up with a name for the pup, that even Thorin, the shade master, got in on the name game, and that Bilbo was an absolute hit with the crew. As much as I'd love to say such things, I can't, because that would be a lie, and that would make me a liar. I can't have that.
What I can say is that once we left the creepy woods there was, without a doubt, many a suspecting glare thrown our way. It's not like we're dangerous or anything. Can you smell the sarcasm? By 'our' I mean lil wargy and I, and going by those looks one would think that she is going to Cujo-out by ripping their throats open, spraying blood everywhere.
Perhaps that is slightly true, as she does not enjoy the 'crazy-eyed-dwarf' vibe. I can feel little rumbly growls vibrating from her thin chest, oh Hades, what did I get myself into?
You know that feeling? Where you buy someone a present that you yourself like and after they open it you think, 'I should have kept it and gotten them a tub of five kinds of popcorn'? You do? Great.
Now you know how it feels to low-key hate yourself for making rash decisions and being a good person. I'm a mess and this pup's going to end up eating someone.
Being the young, inexperienced, and good-looking people that Fili, Kili, Ori, and I are, we ride in the back of the group. With the bright sun shining, dust flying around, and horsehair tickling our noses we find ourselves only a few miles from Bree. I got to tell you guys, when watching the LOTR movies the roads look empty and show nothing but landscapes, Jackson and his team hide the lies!
There are potholes everywhere! EVERYWHERE! Especially on busy roads, such as the one to Bree, you think they'd put those Arda taxes to good use. We're lucky the ponies are surefooted, because I know how rugged people handle tragic injuries that big animals can get. It rhymes with bread and bun.
No, they don't open a bakery to raise funds for a veterinarian, they kill them.
Back to the plot Aria. Where was I? Oh…
To be honest, Ori and the younger Durins look prepared to play fetch, judging by the gleam in their eyes they've already thought of names for the little furball.
"Okay, what is it? You two are up to something and Ori looks ready to jump ship," I give them all the squinty eye.
Twin looks of innocence and one of nervous confusion are thrown my way.
"Whatever do you mean, Miss Aria?" said the blonde one.
"We're not up to anything," Kili chimed in, giving me puppy-dog eyes. I turn to the weak link.
"Wh-what a lovely shade of blue the sky is, I must record this," Ori says avoiding my eyes, scrunching up his lavender mittens.
Giving Cash a little nudge with my shoe, he clip clops closer the dwarves in front of me. "I can read minds, I know you three are up to something. So spit it out, what names have you come up with?"
"Finally! I thought you'd never ask us," pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment with splotches of ink, Kili clears his throat to read off the list. "I'll start with mine since I thought of the list first: Petal, because her fur looks like petals of violets, daisies, blackberry leaves. Masul, because it was luck that she's alive."
"That-that's actually really good Kili, I'm impressed and so is she," I prop the pup further up my arm, while Kili gives a graceful smirk, "I know."
Grabbing the list from his brother's hands, Fili coughs to get our attention, "I had three names but someone's big thumb smeared the ink," Kili let's out an indignant squawk, "so here are my two names: Tourmaline, Mali for short because her nose is pink, and Galena, because she's grey."
Giving Fili a grin and a with a little pip from the warg, we are both in approval of his names.
Ori quietly says his chosen names so his brothers won't overhear, "Olivine or Amber, because her eyes are yellow hued."
"Kili, Fili, Ori-those are really great names! I like Mali, oooh and Petal! Olivine has some 'umph'! What does 'masil'... 'musle'… 'masul'-hey I got it!-mean?" My brow's still furrowed from trying to sound out the name, not expecting three pairs of hands trying to shush me.
I slap away the hands, "What are you three doing? Trying to knock me off the pony?!" Cash neighs in agreement.
Kili shushes me, leaning in towards my ear, he whispers, "Not so loud! The others will hear," all three dwarves look around without a hint of subtlety, "officially we dwarves aren't supposed to speak or tell outsiders anything about our language, not even what it's called." Fili and Ori nod in tandem.
Scrunching up my nose, I shift the pup closer to me, " You mean Khuzdul?"
Triple looks of horror are aimed in my direction. Fili, being the oldest of the three, demands how I know.
Knowing I can't lie, because I'm not a liar I tell them the truth.
"Umm…I read about it, in a book about it," avoiding eye-contact as I smoothly steer Cash away from the Khuzdul police and trot next to a dusty, travel weary Bilbo, who gladly welcomed my company.
Bree-dom!
Arriving to Bree was…anticlimactic, to say the least.
Being a person of color and a female had some residents of Bree bewildered and unsettled. The feeling of being watched was very creepy and disturbing, I can only describe it as going into a high-end store and having the staff watch you. Like "is my poor showing? Or is it just the color of my skin?" A total 'Pretty Woman' moment.
Some of you might even say, "Do people really do that?" To which I would reply, "Yes, they do".
From looking at the dwarves I'd wager that they're used to suspicious looks and ignore them like season pros. Not something someone or a group of someones should be used to, ever. Prejudice is not a good look on anyone, comprendes?
We're riding to the stables in a single file as to not run over pedestrians. A knack that the dwarves have down, whereas I am puttering around avoiding potholes and scandalized men. "It's like they've never seen a woman wearing pants," I mutter under my breath.
"I reckon they haven't, Miss," I hear Bofur say in front of me. I totally forgot about the good hearing dwarves have. Oh my glob! That means they probably heard the guys and I talking! I do a facepalm, through my fingers I see Bofur turn and give me a wink before trotting off inside the stables.
"I mean can you believe that an overnight stable costs two gold coins! Unbelievable!" I lament to Bilbo who sighs and gives me an "are you serious?" look.
"Well, you can't blame them. Cash did bite the stablehand's err hand, perhaps it is a handling fee?" Bilbo suggested with a snort, I shrug my shoulders with a "humpf".
"Very funny, already starting with the dad jokes." I laugh. Shaking his head, he lets out a happy chuckle and glances in the direction of the large building to our right.
Carrying our luggage up to the Prancing Pony Inn has me a little nervous. Being able to see it a few decades in the future gives me the heebie-jeebies. Even with its sketchy clientele and somewhat empty atmosphere it has during the midday.
"Chin up, Miss Aria. We still have time to shop for the journey, you might like that," Kili said, shouldering my bag with ease, taking it off of the floor where I dropped it during my déjà vu moment.
"Because I'm a woman?" I ask teasingly, while he splutters on his way past the steps.
Fili chuckles to my left, walking in step with the three of us, "She is joking, brother. Best keep in mind, as much as you can, that all females are not the same. Take mother for example, she is both a warrior and one of the most elegant dwarrowdams in all of Arda. But cross her more than once she'll thump you into next year." Giving Kili a slap on the back he strides towards Thorin to the innkeeper's desk.
"He is right Kili, females are one of the most formidable forces in the world," Bilbo clears his throat, "Now Aria, I will see about our accommodations." With a short sniff he walks off before Thorin can oversee our "burdensome existence". At least this world's version of Bilbo isn't that blind to his faults.
Finding Kili blushing to his roots, I speak in a soft voice, "Nevertheless, I'd like to shop around. I need to get a few things for Petal and I. She isn't old enough to hunt for herself yet, so I'm going to need a bow and few knives." We walk past the haggling Company towards the stairwell.
He snaps his head up and gives me a radiant and beaming smile, dimples included. "Petal? A bow? Really?" His face glows in excitement.
"Sure, why not, I need to defend myself without chopping of my bits. Plus she's adorable, so should she be named. I was thinking something along the line of Petal Galena Olive Edgewater." Looking at the sleeping lump in my jacket, zipped up and snug as a bug in a rug.
A grinning Kili is an adorable Kili. "I like it, a bit long, but it suits her." He sets my bag onto a chair by the old stairway, after a quick pet to the tuff of fur sticking out.
Five minutes later Bilbo nimbly steps around a few Men and a couple of hardy Hobbits holding a beaten up iron key. As we make our way to our room, I catch Thorin looking our way. I'm not 100% certain but I am 100% guessing that it was a look of confusion/exasperation/concern with a hint of something I'm not familiar with.
Getting Caught With My Feels Down
As you can see by the title, I have been exposed, in ways no one wants to be exposed. Let's begin by our trip to the sort of after-afternoon market. More like the evening market.
"Fili, Kili, Ori! Keep up! Bilbo and I made a list, so we gotta go, chop chop! Skadoosh!" I shout behind me to the trailing dwarves.
"Miss Aria—," Ori starts before I interrupt him.
"Another thing, please refer to me as Aria, no more 'Miss' stuff. I know it's a term for propriety and whatnot but it's odd. Aria is fine," I say while scanning the pathways for the market.
I should mention that even though I can speak to and understand the inhabitants of this land, I cannot for the life of me read or write the Common Tongue. Go figure. Which is why Bilbo gave Fili the list and not me
"Aria we need to go left and then right at the bakery," Fili speaks as he smoothly steers me away from the oncoming foot traffic. Who woulda thunk that traffic in Arda coincides with traffic flow common outside of the States? I didn't.
In a few moments we all come upon the marketplace. This thing is packed more than hipsters at a Cochella festival.
Surrounded by different shaped buildings inspired by the Men and hobbits that live here, the wooden stalls and canvas tents are lined up in rows upon rows of merchants selling their wares. Laughter, haggling, and shouting ring in the plaza of grass and cobblestones.
Lanterns hang upon rope tied to the posts shining brightly like fireflies in the growing darkness, children run amok giggling and chasing each other in the fading sunlight, and smells of spiced meats, burning incense, ales, and fresh breads fill the dewy air.
All of these observations overwhelm my senses. I've never felt more out of place and at home than I've ever been. I've never felt more crowded or alone than now. At this point, I feel tears prick my eyes and my nose get runny. Gross. My chest feels tighter and my throat feels drier and burns more than the Sahara desert. I make a run for a small changing area I see, it's tied against a tent selling clothing.
Feeling the anxious and concerned looks the boys are sending me, I shout back shakily, "I'm fine, I just need more pants." This earns me a few judge-y huffs from the nearest bystanders. I make my way through the burgundy flaps, pulling them closed with shaking fists. I forcefully sit down on the stool and cover my ears with my balled up hands.
"Don't cry. Stop it. Stop crying, crying is for babies." I whisper to myself, squeezing my eyes shut in an effort to cease the flow of tears. I can hear my heartbeat thump throughout my body and feel my nails cut through my palms. I take a few deep breaths and begin the chant my mother taught me to do whenever I'd need to calm down. In case it made my father angrier to hear me cry.
"Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Gloin, Oin, Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin. Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Gloin, Oin, Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin. Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Gloin, Oin, Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin. Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Gloin, Oin, Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin. Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Gloin, Oin, Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin..." By the last chant, my breathing has slowed and the tightness in my chest has loosened enough for me to take in a deep, shuddering breath. Opening my hands, I wince at the marks left and wipe the blood off on my dirty shirt.
Sniffling only once I stand up and peek through the flaps to see startled brown, blue, and green eyes. With a yelp I fall back and hit the stool. Tanned, strong, and broad hands pull apart the flaps and I scramble to stand up. The sun had completely set and I see both Ori and Fili's arms full of the things Bilbo and I listed, plus a little more that they'd thought we need. How long was I in there?
"You-you were taking a while so Fili and I thought we'd get your supplies. Kili stood guard. Bree may have Hobbits but it is not entirely safe to be alone at night." Ori speaks after an awkward silence.
I gaze at Kili through my lashes, who is staring at me with a puzzled look on his face, "You were say our names, all of our names. Like you've said them a hundred times before. Why?" he questions with a heavy dose of suspicion, his eyes narrowing. At this, Fili gives me a stony look. Ori looks surprised, like a deer in the headlights.
Should I tell them or lie? I ask myself. A soothing voice answers, calming my racing mind.
If you cannot trust those you would protect, then who?