Hi everyone. I apologize for all the delays, but I hope this chapter makes up for some of it. :) Thank you for all your support, and I will try to keep to my scheduling.
Disclaimer: Only Eda is my own invention.
"Miss Eda, would you please come over?"
The woman approached warily, her eyes flickering anxiously between the column of grey that was Gandalf and the dark boulder of Thorin. The dwarf's eyes were shadowed but the crease in his brow hummed of anger. 'I need to stop this pattern,' she swore. 'Neither of us will survive at this rate.'
For his part, Gandalf's eyes were softer, and so she focused on him.
"It was brought to our attention that the elves did not give you a separate room." Gandalf nodded to her cloak and hunched shoulders. "We cannot speak to the oversight, but we think it wise to bring the matter to Lord Elrond. Surely he has another room to spare. However," and at this, Gandalf glimpsed Thorin's expression. "We thought it best to ask you first if you thought such a move was necessary." She stared at Gandalf then Thorin, confusion clear on her face. "You see," Gandalf set to explain, "When Master Fili explained the sleeping arrangements you had come to, he said it was agreeable to all involved. And considering the current ill-tempers." Thorin tensed but said nothing despite the clear burn to do so. "And perhaps your own reasons for tip-toeing around Rivendell." It was her turn to fidget uncomfortably. "We thought perhaps best to not make unnecessary complaints."
"They are hardly unnecessary, Gandalf," Thorin could hold back no longer. "I will not have her sleeping near my nephews—human or not."
"For goodness sake, Thorin, she's been sleeping near all of you on the road. Why would it be suddenly so grevious now that the propriety of beds are involved?"
"It is not the beds but the doors," he responded warily. She could do nothing but blink in her stupor. Surely he didn't think any of them at risk of illicit relations? Her stomach roiled at the notion. No matter how she coud appreciate the looks of particular dwarves, the mantra of dwarf drowned even the slightest notion. Thorin must have caught her surprise for he said, "I do not fear anything would happen. I know and trust my nephews." She did not fail to notice a lack of trust in her. "It is a matter of principle and dignity, of which I will give no excuses for tongues to wag at either Fili or Kili."
"Thorin, why don't you rejoin your kin and work on readying for the next leg of our journey," Gandalf suggested pointedly. The dwarf shared a level stare with the leaning wizard, but left. Eda released a shaky breath she hadn't known she held.
"Now, Eda. All dwarvish pride aside, would you like to request Lord Elrond to find you another room?" She opened her mouth to speak when he said, "Think first." And so she closed her mouth and pulled back into her mind. Had they asked her this the day before, she wouldn't need to think, simply rush out a hearty "yes." But they hadn't asked her yesterday, they asked her now. Now, after her merry, occasionally awkward, meal under the moon. After she had a chance to glow over the bands on her arm and the scars on her fingertips and hear the loving, proud explanations of dwarf braids as they shared pieces of themselves.
She thought of the night after Kili had lumbered back to his bed. She had stayed awake, lying on her side, and staring through the darkness to the dip in the shadows where the brothers rested. It reminded her of her family, when they were early in their years and money stretched thin for a lack of working hands and too many mouths. Every night, she, her brother and her sister would nestle between their parents to sleep through the cold northern nights. When Philip reached his early, wobbly years, Eda had walked him in circles around the house, always one step behind should he fall and proudly laughing at his uneven steps. Every night, she started to press her thumb to his, imagining the time they would make the tradition scar their fingertips for forever.
"It is decided." Gandalf tugged her back from her memories.
"What?" She blinked away the film of memory. "I haven't said anything."
"You smiled in your thoughts, and it has been quite some time since you've managed such. If your time in Rivendell is aiding you in earning the trust of the company, then I think it best you stay near as possible." He winked at her. "For you will need them to like you when you make your next mistake." She stared at him dully.
"I thought my catches made up for that," she muttered.
"A dwarf is more than his stomach—even if it does not always seem so." A lop-sided grin came to her face.
"I am not sure you could convince Thorin," she chanced.
"For once, his stubborn hatred of elves might play to our favour. Leave it to me," Gandalf assured her before they parted.
That night she arrived earlier to the impromptu campfire, three rabbits and a mallard in her hands—which the dwarves set to deftly prepare.
"How long are we set to stay in Rivendell?" She asked as she sat down beside Bifur—who was continuing his efforts to roast vegetables.
"We are set to leave tomorrow night," Balin said from his comfortable perch in an elegant wooden chair. She looked mildly disappointed. "Why?"
"I thought to preserve meat for once we continue on, but it takes three weeks." The dwarves as well looked disappointed. "I wouldn't risk carrying it with us." Bofur clapped a hand on her shoulder and smiled with all his optimism.
"At least ye thought of tryin'." She took the sausuge he offered and dropped it onto her plate after taking a mouthful. Kili and Fili pulled from the shadowed hall, each brother's shoulders hung low under the weight of their water buckets. Dwalin proudly dropped his cleaned rabbit into a pail and Dori meticulously-–if somewhat reluctantly—washed it with the cold water. Eda took charge of washing the rabbit from Bofur, and the underside of her fingers turned pink in the chilled water.
"Kili," she called to the dwarf. His back faced her from where he sat by the third rabbit, showing Fili his new talent at gutting the animal, but he turned at his name. "Would you be ready to regale us with your story once the feast is cooking?" His lips sloped in an easy smile, and he returned to the rabbit. Fili's eyebrows raised, and Eda could see his mouth wrapping around words, asking what exactly he had planned. The brunette's head lifted as if answering, but she saw nothing other than his long, unbraided hair in the firelight. Her own rabbit finished, she skewered it and placed it beside Dori's.
"Where is Thorin? Will he be joining us?" Bilbo asked. He sat across the fire, his legs loosely crossed while he sat on a cushion of cloaks.
"He and Gandalf are discussing our next step. They will join later if they can," explained Balin. It was not hard to notice the hopeful glances between the dwarves. The leader had been noticeably absent during their stay in Rivendell—though no one knew precisely why as he clearly avoided associating with the elves at every possibility. He would find them when he needed to impart information, but otherwise, they assumed, he stayed in his room or a private discussion with Gandalf—frequently including Balin and Dwalin. They knew he had a hard task ahead, deciphering the map, the runes, and charting their next move under the ligering memory of the orc pack. It did nothing to quell their wishes he would join, perhaps drink some ale with them, and give them time with the king they admired so ardently. More than the others, the princes showed their hope in their eyes. When Thorin had appeared to them at the noon meal, they had quickly started pestering him to join them. It resulted in little—in either words or actions—from their uncle, but the nephews remained firm in their faith he would show.
Kili handed his cleaned rabbit to Bombur, who started chopping it to pieces for the stew. Eda watched him survey the gathering with something between nerves and excitement.
"I will now regale you with the timeless dwarf saga of Nor and Onim," he announced. All attention immediately fell to him, and he tried to cover his nerves with enthusiastic confidence. Inside, his nerves burned like a forge; story-telling was a practiced and proud art in the dwarf culture. Just s their hammers and careful eyes would create the finest jewels and most fearsome armour, so they considered word-smithing an art. Kili had practice with his brother, but this would be his first tale in front of the company.
"Centuries ago, in the First Age of our world, great fires burned beneath the Grey Mountains," he spoke with a practiced rhythym, as if hearing someone whisper the words in his ear. "The Great Dwarf King of the Grey Mountains ruled over his land with absolute certainty and strength. He had been blessed with a beautiful wife of copper hair and three children: two sons, Fenin and Thonin, and a daughter, Onim." The dwarves settled back and let their eyes meander through the story.
"Onim had hair that shone like hot metal, and eyes bright as sapphires." Eda couldn't help but smile at the description; it sounded so very dwarf-like. "And no one, in all of the Grey Mountains nor Middle Earth, loved Onim such as Nor. In his dwarfling years, he had seen her in the halls of the mountain, and such her beauty shone that he was enraptured. But fates had not smiled upon Nor's life for he was an orphan and a simple black-smith—"
"Simple blacksmith?" One of the dwarves cut in. "There is nothing simple about smithing—"
"I know that," Kili shot the dwarf a cross look. "I only meant that he was not a prince." This appeared to satisfy the first dwarf, but another piped up.
"I thought he was a knight." Kili glared at his brother, clearly aware of his brother's playful gleam.
"Stop interrupting." Eda giggled to herself. Kili straightened and set his shoulders back almost to say he resettled himself back in the story. But his words struggled to come out in the wake of the disturbance. "He was a blacksmith—or a knight. Regardless of his particular job, he was not a prince. That is the point here—"
"Laddie, you're losing the tale," Balin guided gently. Despite the older dwarf's caring tone, the prince flustered.
"Patience, please!" The woman sent him a sympathetic smile, hoping to encourage him on, but he did not appear to notice it in his efforts to wordlessly silence his companions' good-natured cajoling. They became quiet. "Very good. Where was I—"
"Simple smithery," Fili helped playfully, earning himself a punch in the arm.
"Nor crafted beautiful swords and jewelry, all by the inspiration of his love for Onim, and his great skill earned him an audience with the King. It was at this meeting that Nor's greatest hope crashed about his ears, for the King wished to commission jewelry from him. At first, Nor felt lighter and stronger than mithril. He would slave through the end of Durin's folk, to the very ends of his extinction, to create a piece beautiful enough for his beloved."
"Alright, laddie, we understand. He loved the lass," Bofur teased, his words mingling with the smoke of his pipe. Dwalin leaned forward to grab a skewered rabbit.
Kili glowered. "Would you rather tell the story?" Eda's ears perked at a trace of fear in the words. No one else gave indication of hearing such, and several dwarves let out boisterous offers to take the story off the lad's hands. "It's my story!" Eda snatched the remaining rabbit and broke it to pieces. Perhaps filling their mouth with more food would keep them quiet. They eagerly chewed, and Kili continued.
"Then the King said the worst words for a lover to hear: 'They are for her to wear on her wedding day.' It was then that Nor discovered Onim's father currently discussed arranging a marriage between his daughter and a prince of the Red Mountains. Nor left his King's presence in the lowest of despair. Still, he had a duty and he faced his task with a new resolution: to give her the most magnificent piece that some part of him may rest near her heart. When it came time to deliver the jewelry to the King, Onim saw all his love for her in the inlaid jewels, and she fell in love with him as well."
'Is that it?" Eda kept the question silent.
"What none of the dwarves in the Grey Mountains yet knew was that the dwarves of the Red Mountains had lost much of their wealth to a dragon attack. They were suddenly without the money for a proper dowry or wedding. Yet they were greedy and saw opportunity in Onim's marriage, and thus sent a ragged band of thieves to kidnap the princess." The thief of the group faced the fire and lifted an eyebrow at the words. 'We're aways ragged in these stories.'
"One still night under a sky of thick clouds, the thieves crept into the halls and kidnapped the princess. By the time the alarm was raised and the swords drawn, it was too late. The King did not know who had taken his daughter nor where to search, and so his grief delved deep in his heart, a cavern of tears. When he heard of his beloved's disappearance, Nor yielded to none. His eyes were set upon retrieving Onim, and nothing else. He took his mount and started through the forests."
"You forgot the noble raven," interposed Ori.
"No, the raven comes in the forest," Gloin insisted.
"No, he comes before the forest and tells Nor of Onim's plead to find her," said Bombur over a spoonful of stew. Bifur nodded and said something in Khudzul, looking quite assured. Evidently the brothers all grew up hearing the same story.
"Onim's plead?" Fili leaned around his brother to look at Bifur.
"Yes," Bofur declares. "A raven heard the lass' crying, an' took pity on the beauty. She ask the raven to find Nor and guide him to her."
"Will you all cease and let me continue?" Kili cried out in exasperation. But it was too late as the dwarves' voices leapt into loud clamour of fiery Khudzul. Several of the dwarves shook fists, and a few rose to their feet or leaned close to the fire to better shout at the dwarf opposite them.
A loud roar snapped the fights into silence, and attention turned to Fili who stood to his full height and leveled a firm reproach at the members. Eda could suddenly and in full clarity picture a crown upon his head.
"That is better." His face softened and he looked down to his brother, who failed to hide his dejection. Fili knew his brother wouldn't continue the story with such a mood, but he felt at a loss for what to do.
"I'll continue from here, if that's okay with you," Balin stepped in with the wisest diplomacy. Kili's dark eyes flashed to the older dwarf and his wise smile and he hunched over his bowl of stew, a silent concession. Fili took his place at his brother's side and tried to ease the cloud with bright words.
"You wouldn't want to finish it, anyway, Kee. It gets boring at this part." Kili rolled his eyes but pushed out a laugh. The other dwarves joined in light jesting, Dwalin going on to say that it best Balin tell the story before his mind rotted out of old age. Eda felt a few humoured breaths as the air cleared. Perhaps she would have laughed more were it not for the nagging twinge in her chest that Kili's smile didn't shine quite right.
"How are you?"
"What an odd question." He could feel her knee tapping his back, urging him to surrender. In his silence, it's force increased under her frustration then receeded silently; she had given in and left him to his secrets.
"How did you think of the story?"
"What an odd question," she said airily. He chuckled in the darkness.
Through the large, arched windows of their room, the pair could see the stars sprinkled in the sky. Neither put their eyes to the sky, however. The dwarf had his back to the window, sitting at the foot of her bed with his eyes moving between his brother's sleeping shape and Eda's sitting figure. Sharp shadows cut across her face making her expressions most dramatic. He wasn't aware if she knew this but didn't bother to share either.
"I told everyone earlier how I felt," she spoke quietly.
"Yes. 'It was very interesting.' 'Intense.' 'Beautiful and noble,'" He quoted pieces back at her.
"Well, all are true. It was a wonderful story," Eda insisted, turning her attention to the world outside the window.
"Even the part where Balin described Nor's defeat of the dastardly thieves?" prodded the dwarf.
"Yes."
"And when Onim flew into Nor's arms to be saved from the orcs?" He pushed a little more.
"Yes." Her voice slipped, and he laughed—hushing only when she pointed to his brother.
"For such an immoral character, you are a terrible liar."
"I most certainly lack your skill," she swiftly replied. Her head had tilted and both eyes caught light from the window. It wasn't an accusatory stare, but it unnerved him all the same—if possibly more. He scrambled for words, but she found them more quickly. "And if you'd rather my honesty, then, no, I did not particularly like the story." A pause rang in the air. "I'm sorry."
"What issues had you with it?" Kili rotated on the bed to face her. She had started to crack her fingers with her thumbs, and, despite any pops of success, she continued to do so. Her eyes looked anywhere but his face, and her teeth gnawed her bottom lip.
At last it burst through. "It's so terribly unbelievable!"
Kili blinked. "That's all?"
He knew her eyes widened from the way her eyebrows stretched up. "That's all?" She repeated incredulously. "What does that mean?"
"Certainly the orc attack was embellished for even one dwarf would be hard-pressed to defend himself against a small army of enemies whilst protecting his maiden—"
"Without injury—"
"And some might say it unrealistic for a King to give his blessing on the love—"
"Until he is recognized by a visiting King and discovered to be a lost prince—"
"But the reality isn't the point of the story," Kili finished pointedly. No moment spared to give her a response. "It's about duty and honour and love. Nor's courage in battle saved him and Onim, and his loyalty to her and his King won him the love of Onim and the blessing of the King. Because of his strength of character and body, they reached their happy ending."
"A happy ending is simply a story that hasn't finished," Eda dared in a voice barely higher than a sigh.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Somehow he knew his voice had raised, that it sharpened, but he didn't care. She sighed.
"Nothing," she tugged on her blanket as if preparing to tuck in. Kili didn't move, his eyes fixated on her with a dangerous concentration. "It's a lovely sto—"
"Don't lie your way out of this," he commanded in an undertone. His hand snatched a fist of the blanket and yanked. The result was a ripple through the fabric jerking her back to sitting upright. "Do you think such values are useless or are you so dark as to think no one truly has such?" The words tasted of insulted pride and disdain. These stories had raised Kili, second only to his mother and Thorin, and somehow her composed rejection whipped his pride and rallied his anger. "You said you would die for your brother." Her eyes shot to his with warning—a warning he swept aside. "How is that any different than Nor's love for his King, kin and beloved?"
"Because my love is real!" She snapped but quickly covered her mouth. He knew her next words would be an apology but found he didn't want to hear it. It surprised him when she took a long inhale and said, calmly, "I love my brother for who he is, and yes, I would die for him if it came to battling an orc army for his protection. But there's the difference, isn't there? I would die." Even though he caught the glimpse of her fingers fidgeting, hastily curling and unfurling around handfuls of her blanket, her voice wavered only little. "B-because loving someone doesn't keep you from death. And loving someone doesn't magically change circumstances. I could love a prince more than I love the air I breathe, but I could never marry one—"
"But Nor was actually a prince—"
He couldn't decide if he imagined the sardonic slant on her mouth for shadows washed in. "And how greatly convenient for him," jibed the woman. The air whispered in the trees like a hushed lullaby but neither felt tired. To the prince, her words frustrated. How could someone bear willing scars of devotion yet scoff at stories—his stories? Had she yet to realize that Thorin's company willingly marched towards the Lonely Mountain, towards a bleak outcome and a firey unknown, because of their values? Loyalty, bravery, determination and strength. All of these they learned from their father's knee—or, in his case, uncle's—as the great sagas were recounted. Perhaps they could squabble over details—how beautiful was the dwarrow's beard and exactly how many enemies did the hero slay—but the heart of the story always remained the same.
"You may call me idealistic, but I say you're simply scared." He hadn't meant to say "scared." The word "dark" had tumbled in his mind, but somehow it never made it out his mouth. Silence responded and he read something of an uncomfortable surprise in the creases of her face. 'No, dark doesn't suit,' he thought. 'For she is not evil.'
"Well, I suppose I have to be." The subtle tremble in her voice spoke to greater nerves. He had unnerved her. She shoved out a laugh. "If your stories are true, I'm a ragged thief due for a come-uppance at the hands of a noble dwarf." He couldn't help but laugh softly.
"A thief, yes, but not ragged. Yet." She rolled her eyes and knocked him on the back with her knee. It felt oddly comforting, as if a silent offer of truce. It took less than a second for him to accept with a grin.
"That counts as another physical debt to be repaid," he pointed at the offending knee hidden under the blanket. She rolled her eyes.
"Ever a dwarf." Knees drew to her chest and her chin rested atop them, eyes turned to the shadows playing across the blanket's broad grey expanse. Abruptly, he found himself wishing to ask for a story from her childhood. Her fingers stood out like thin tree branches over the pale fabric, and he caught the anxious quiver when she started to crack her knuckles. 'Perhaps another night.' The conversation had whisped away and left them with unsettling contemplations. Yet neither stepped forward to share, both knowing that it was still too early to bare. His distrust was not completely gone despite his curiosity's overwhelming propulsion to the woman. And if her twitches gave any hint of the internal, Eda had yet to come to terms with him as well.
Kili made the first move and stood. They parted without an utterance and tried to find sleep under the fresh layer of heavy thoughts.