Believe in Me
Disclaimer: Another run-in with a security force, and still no one's arrested me for copyright claims. Oh yeah - that's 'cause I don't claim to own anything!
A/N: I'm not an escaped convict, I swear. Just a poor almost-college student. But yeah, so I think I've defeated the dreaded writer's block!? Something about where I spend my summers just sucks the writing mojo out of me. But hey, here we are, and who am I to make excuses. Official business! 1) I'm officially closing the poll. Any further opinions shall be taken via PM :) 2) The name thing wasn't completely explained last time due to chapter-chopping, but the info here and in the future should make the whole deal a bit clearer. The concept is kind of a headcanon of mine, and, well, the way my minds works... :P 3) One of you lovely people was the 200th story subscriber, so kudos to you all, my friends! *teary hugs* You flatter me. 4) This chapter was really entertaining to write, once I could pound it into shape in my head and slap it into my word processor in some kind of vaguely coherent arrangement! Enjoy! :D
So many thanks to: Singer of Water (Aaaaahahaha tension got you then? xD Yeah okay so heart-names are kind of a headcanon of mine. I've read several fanfic works where it's a thing,so I adopted the idea. I'm not sure what the canon roots are, if any, but it seemed plausible so I rolled with it :P That's all. Thanks!), DragonOwl (Don't you just want one for your own? x3), Guest (Hurhurhur. But noooo, don't die of tension! o.0 Aren't they just the cutest dwarfy family though? I keep saying I want to adopt Bofur as my uncle or something), Fellowship of Avengers (Haha, it could cause problems if they weren't o.O Exactly, that's the mystery! I'm thinking around thirty? I think that's about early teens for a human so that's what I'm sticking with. Bleh, I explain the inner-name thing more in this chapter...I broke it all up when it came to uploading, hah. Hope this chapter helps! Thanks :), Borys68 (Thank you!), Abyss Prime (*organ music* The plot thickens...), AemiKili (N'aaaaaaawwwwwwwwwww, stop it you. You're too good to me :P That really is one of the biggest compliments though, when someone says I should turn things into actual books :3 So as always, thank you for everything), the Random Oliphaunt (Lol. I'll admit that's something I'm kind of a sucker for. I tried to make it logical and not too Mary Sue-ish :P Haahahaha yaaaay! :D I'll also admit that the Erebor jag was a snap decision of mine 0.o Let's hope it doesn't bite me in the ass...?), i am a Fire-jay (Eeeee, thanks!), Amber (Wow, well that was a hell of a long time to flail in a fangirl-induced frenzy! o.o Oh wait...that was totally my fault. *looks over shoulder for shadowy lurkers* Ehehe...heh...heh... Enjoy! *hides*), Lady Izel (Haaaaahaha! Got ya! xD), LovingBOBThePacific (Aw, thanks! Hope you like the update!), Fluff-loving Guest (A bit of fluff for you, eh? ;D I'll be honest...I haven't decided? *sweatdrop* I can't wait either, lol. Thanks!), animelver14 (Thank you!), Jess (Ooof, I probably didn't catch you before you went on vacation...sorry! 8/ But enjoy anyway! :D Glad you liked the fluffy teaser bit xD), Becca (Haha, yay! Thanks!), 0kami (HOLYMOTHER~ You've read Fearless too?! Er...I mean, it's been on break for a while, but I'm working on it, I swear...*seriously guilt-tripping* But oh my goodness, thank you so much. I'm seriously honored by that compliment, it means a lot. Enjoy the update!), Lissy the Dunadan, shockin'blueeyes, camcakes, TheFoxCannotSummit, XscouselondonerX, Isn't that Ironic, Spirited Mare, HHopeK143, Bedlam87, Hadewig, and all the rest of you ever-patient readers. :)
Chapter Twenty-Five
In Which There Is An Overall Regression In Maturity
Well, she sure as all creation couldn't sleep after all that. Eisa considered praying to Irmo and Estë, but at the same time, she didn't want to fall asleep and encounter the dreams she might find there.
Damn it all. Damn it all, for keeping her in the dark for so long and for dumping this on her all at once.
"I don't want a heart-name," she snapped with her nose buried in a pillow. "I'm already Eisa!"
Immediately she felt terrible. Her necklace had been the one thing connecting her to anyone in the world, so maybe she was supposed to figure out what it all meant for her and where she came from. The opportunity to belong had been literally placed in her hands, and all she could do was fuss about it.
But what if she didn't want to know where she came from?
Her mother might have given her the heart-name that she had because it would reveal something about herself or her origins. What if it meant "elf-born" or something equally scandalous? (No, but that was ridiculous. She was getting paranoid.)
Not that she minded being the subject of scandal, but Nienna have mercy, all she wanted was to fit in with no questions asked.
She was Eisa; wasn't that enough?
Why did she need some second name that she'd never even reveal to anyone because who on Arda would she ever be close enough with and trust enough to do so, that she'd never use and quite possibly try not to think about?
Why did she need an identifier to link her to anyone, be it individuals or an entire people? She was already her own person; wasn't that enough?
So what if she wanted to fit in—she was doing fine on her own—it was better to remain a mystery than risk grounds for perpetual alienation from those who might be her own people, wasn't it?
She hadn't even chosen her own name; it had been chosen for her, so then what if it was wrong, what if it wasn't what she had turned out to be—and what if she wasn't the person she was supposed to have become, what if she wasn't enough—?
Why would she possibly want something like that to define her?
Two hours after she had lain down in bed, she rolled over and fidgeted for the thirty-seventh time, gave a snarl of a sigh, and kicked the covers off in an uncoordinated flurry.
She was going to Lord Elrond's library.
Eisa drew her brows together and hummed in the back of her throat at the approaching cloud bank. The sky, unusually dim all day, was slowly becoming an odd brownish-purple sort of color as the heavy-looking clouds slogged over the ridge of the nearest peaks and into the valley.
Sure enough, within a minute she received two very fat wet splotches down her back and one right on top of her head. Surveying the area, she judged whether it was worth it to seek out real shelter or not. She decided not, as she had come out for a nice private walk anyway and the storm couldn't last for too long. Some solitude would have just the same value if she was stationary, so she ducked onto an alcove set into the stone wall to her left. It was several surprising feet deep, and she leaned against the back wall before sliding down it to sit on the ground.
Groaning quietly, she rubbed her eyes. She hadn't slept well, of course, and what she had found in the library hadn't exactly helped to alleviate the previous night's onslaught of revelations. And then there was Kíli's strange behavior to consider.
She decided not to think about that.
The clouds quickly began to dump their contents down in earnest, so it was no surprise that Eisa didn't hear several sets of small footsteps until their owners were practically on top of her. The five elf-children clearly hadn't expected anyone to be plopped down in their secret hiding spot, and they skittered to a stop as soon as they spotted Eisa.
She blinked at them, fairly paralyzed out there in the rain, before remembering that they might well be afraid of her.
"Well, come on." She smiled, but not too widely, and unnecessarily scooted over a bit. "There's plenty of room in here."
They glanced at each other for a moment—if they were human children, their ages would have ranged from about five to eight years old—before scurrying under cover with the blonde boy who appeared to be the ringleader going first.
"It got wet out there awfully fast, didn't it?" Eisa babbled on cheerfully. "Bit of a surprise. Does it rain often here?"
A few of them shook their heads by reflex, but the others still wouldn't move any further.
At this, Eisa sighed and lost a bit of her put-on good humor. "You don't have to be afraid of me, you know. Is that it?" She had never fancied herself particularly good with children. It was simply that she would tell them the truth, and she found that they appreciated that, no matter the race or age.
The blonde boy was the one to speak up first. "Are you a dwarf?"
"Yes, I am. My name's Eisa. At your service." She bobbed her head.
With a few looks between him and his companions, the child became confident that they were all of the same mind. "You don't look like one," he informed Eisa.
Don't I? Damn it, she thought in amusement. "Oh yes? Well then, what should a dwarf look like?" She raised her eyebrows.
There was puzzled silence for a moment. Then: "Hairy," declared a small blonde girl, which surprised a laugh out of Eisa.
"And like they've had too much to eat," put in another child.
"That's because they have," pointed out the fourth, as though it should be obvious.
"And angry," said a small, shy voice belonging to the boy at the back who hadn't yet spoken. His hair was inky black, and he appeared to have not yet entirely eliminated the habit of thumb-sucking.
His words made Eisa frown, and she shifted slightly. "Angry? What do you mean?"
The boy shrugged bashfully, and another child filled in for him. "They just always look like they're ready to attack, you know? It's scary."
"These dwarves? Scary?" Eisa put on an exaggeratedly appalled face. Her assumption that the Company were the only dwarves these children had ever actually seen was mostly likely correct.
"Like the really big one with the tattoos and the two axes," whispered the blonde boy—clearly the brother of the blonde girl—looking around as though Dwalin might be lurking nearby.
In a way, she wanted to just sit them all down and give them a briefing on the history between dwarves and elves from an unbiased perspective. Teach them to think of all sides before making judgment calls; to search for the explanations around a person to solve the mysteries of his or her behavior, to put themselves in others' shoes as often as they wore their own.
But these were others' children, not hers, and the compulsion almost threw her off guard. It was also a rather illogical one with a low probability of success, so she restrained herself and settled for a simpler approach.
"The big one, huh? He sure looks like he's ready to attack, doesn't he?" Eisa nodded in agreement as the younglings bobbed their heads vigorously. A few of them had sat down as well.
"And he's always near the other big one. The cranky-face that's supposed to be a king or something," added the boy with brown hair and eyes.
Excellent. Wonderful transition. Eisa wagged a finger. "Not just supposed to be. He is a king; he's just been missing his crown and throne for a very long time. Those aren't what determine his rule, after all. He's a true king, no matter where he is in the world."
"Is that—" the blonde girl stopped herself, but plowed on after a moment's consideration— "is that one of those things that's supposed to only come from inside you? That's what Papa always says." She shot a defensive glare at her older brother, who had begun an impressive series of eyerolls.
"Precisely. Your father's absolutely right," Eisa encouraged her. "Thorin's been a good king. He built a new life and home for his people when theirs was destroyed. And even though he might look mean sometimes—" she dropped her voice secretively, causing the children to scuttle forward eagerly— "he's a very fair judge, even if he doesn't openly show his kindness. He might be a natural leader, but he listens too, although it usually doesn't seem like it." She chuckled. "He's a good king. But back to Mister Dwalin—the scary one, I mean. Well, if he's always near the king… What kinds of people does a king need near him?"
The girl with mousy brown hair opened her mouth, and then closed it with her little eyebrows furrowed. "Is that a trick question?" she huffed as the blonde boy suggested the answer of servants.
"No; and you're on the right track," Eisa answered them respectively.
"Advisors?"
"An army!"
"Soldiers!"
"Cooks!"
"Guards!"
Eisa pointed triumphantly to the brunette girl, who was looking very pleased with herself. "There, that's it! Mostly. You see, King Thorin and Mister Dwalin are brothers in arms. They grew up together, with Thorin learning how to be a king and Dwalin learning how to protect the king and his house."
"Like Lord Elrond and Mister Lindir?" the brunette boy spoke up.
She'd forgotten about the obvious perfect example. "Exactly like. I think. Mister Lindir always looks a bit stressed, doesn't he? Well, it's a tough job looking after a leader. Especially when he's missing his home and kingdom."
Varying measures of understanding dawned on their small, admittedly adorable faces.
"You see? Now, what are your names? It looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while."
Fifteen minutes later, halfway into a discussion about who knew what, a hooded and cloaked figure suddenly materialized out of the rain. At least two of the children yelped from their spots on the ground, and the youngest boy with the black hair scurried to hide behind Eisa.
Whoever it was ducked into the little makeshift cave and threw off his hood, then blinked in surprise.
"Oh," said Kíli, upon finding Eisa swamped by a herd of elf-children. "Hello."
"Are you a dwarf too?" sighed the entertainingly know-it-all brunette girl in dramatic exasperation.
Kíli laughed easily and loudly, giving an affirmative and looking very handsome and good Valar where had that feeling come from? Eisa nearly tripped over her own tongue as she rapidly busied herself with introductions, followed by an attempt to coax the youngest out from behind her.
"Ferion, don't you want to meet my friend Kíli? He isn't scary-looking, I promise." She bit back a grin at Kíli's slightly baffled expression.
After a moment, the brightest pair of big green eyes that Kíli had ever seen peered out from behind Eisa's shoulder. The boy edged out of hiding and planted himself firmly in her lap, thumb stuck in his mouth again.
"Oho, a bit of competition, aren't we?" Kíli chortled, and before Eisa had time to wonder what exactly that meant or even what she wanted it to mean, he had scooped up the child and begun tickling him mercilessly. Ferion shrieked with laughter and wriggled desperately, but it was no use. The other children leapt on Kíli and buried him before long, attacking until he mimed a dramatic death and flopped down on the ground, taking up the majority of the floor space.
Ferion sat himself down triumphantly on Kíli's stomach and nodded in satisfaction. "Defeated," he proclaimed simply.
Kíli made several gagging noises that made the elf-child squeak and hastily vacate the premises. He scurried into Eisa's lap again, warming her heart.
"Come on, O great warrior," Eisa teased her friend. "You don't go down that easily."
He was making a great comical show of not being able to get up, which was sending the rest of the children into near hysterics. Eisa rolled her eyes and stood up, holding Ferion on her hip when he refused to let go of her shirt. "Why do I keep you around?" she sighed melodramatically, flinging out her free hand to help him up.
"Never a dull moment?" he suggested, making her laugh as he stood up and brushed himself off exaggeratedly.
The little brunette girl suddenly shot Kíli a highly suspicious look and tugged on Eisa's breeches insistently. As she bent down to the child's level, Eisa saw the blonde boy excitedly engage Kíli in conversation about what kinds of weapons he used and had he ever seen an orc and how big is a warg and how do you kill them—
The girl glanced around furtively and whispered in Eisa's ear: "Are the two of you, you know—courting?"
Eisa would have found it funny, the way she said it like it was some sort of infectious deadly disease, but she was too busy choking on her own saliva. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kíli shoot her an amused look, but she was too busy trying to form words amidst her sputtering to pay much attention.
"Maybe you should be." The elf-child nodded sagely.
Later, Eisa wouldn't even remember how she responded; only that she tried desperately to laugh it off without stopping to ask herself why she had reacted so strongly to that idea.
Eisa entered her chambers to relax for a bit before suppertime—the weather had broken beautifully at last—and promptly set to glaring at her bed.
Stupid dreams.
She apologized halfheartedly to Irmo at that and set about flopping into an oversized chair.
She didn't feel like Ridráinleif. She felt like Eisa. It was childish, she knew, but the awkward clankiness of a different name on her tongue made the pessimistic side of her even more obstinate in refusing to accept it as hers.
Sure, she liked the sound of it—it felt strong, capable; but calm as well. It was a nice name, and it contained no hidden incriminating evidence or anything ludicrous like that, as far as she could tell.
But it still didn't feel like hers, and the meaning was making her slightly nervous besides.
She tugged thoughtfully on her right front braid and thought over the possibilities again. The first component was easy; it meant "beautiful." Easy enough for a mother to choose, giving a name to a child she would never get to raise.
Or didn't want to raise. She shoved away the thought.
The second component could mean "one," as in singular, or "alone."
The third meant "wyrd:" fate or destiny. Eisa blamed the dwarves' lack of linguistic evolution for the ambiguity on that one. Fate had a decidedly ominous ring to it, while destiny seemed like a much more optimistic spin on things. But both were rigid, and she did not like that part.
So she could have one fateful doom, but it would be beautiful. She made a face. Urgh. If there was one thing she was fairly sure of, it was that her mother had not had the gift (or curse) of foresight. Scratch that one.
She could have a beautiful destiny, but it would be alone. Charming. No news there.
A beautiful fate alone just sounded like the ending to a tragic theatre production.
She swore loudly and flopped sideways in the chair, sticking her feet up on the armrest.
All she needed was an obscenely large meal and an obscene number of drinks. Or something. Anything, at this point. And, she decided as she rubbed her temples long-sufferingly, no strange dreams tonight.