Chapter 5
"And this maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me." -Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
Her eyes opened gingerly and with heavy lids she looked at the flickering flame of the candle beside her. She furrowed her brow and shuffled her shoulders trying to find comfort in the soft covers beneath her. Her head pounded and she soon had to let go off her expression, because it tortured her face. Her eyes averted themselves from the dancing flame and she looked up at the high wooden ceiling above her.
She was confused.
The last thing she could remember was letting herself fall off the cliff. The last thing she could recall was making that decision. Was letting go and then the air rushing by her and the sensation of utter nothingness beneath her back, beneath her feet, beneath her everything. The feeling of blissful liberation after that period of horror she experienced in the Orcs' fortress. She was supposed to be dead. That had been the price for her freedom. She had paid for her escape from Azog's clutches with her life and at the thought of the utter fear and torment she had experienced in his dungeon, she had thought that it had been a small price to pay for she could not bear to be imprisoned, to be at his mercy. She had died and she had been content to go as long as it had meant that she could have died free and true to herself.
But she was confused.
It did not feel as if she was dead. She felt pain and discomfort from the injuries she felt on her face. She felt the heaviness of her form weighing her down. She had expected that as soon as she had died, she would have left her earthly form and perhaps, if she was lucky, she would have flown to the stars. Yet that had not happened. Because she still felt weighed down to the ground. She felt everything around her, the warmth of the soft covers over her form, the warmth of the candle beside her cheek, the smell of musk and herbs and the sound of her quiet but steady breathing. She had expected that as soon as she had died she would not have felt anything any more. She could feel her heart beat in her chest. She was supposed to be dead, but it felt as if to her as if she was painfully, blissfully alive.
And that confused her.
How could she have ever survived that fall from the cliff? As she had fallen, it had been as if it was never ending, as if the abyss she had jumped into was infinite. Surely, as soon as she had impacted with something, with anything the fall would have killed her, but she was still alive and that confused her greatly. She could not recall how she had arrived where she was now. She did not know where she was. She could not recall anything after having lost consciousness during her fall. Perhaps she should have worried. She should have worried that she was in an unkown known location and that she had somehow been brought here without her recollection. Perhaps she should have worried over who exactly had dressed her wounds and their intent. But she could not. Because she was grateful. She was grateful that someone had taken pity on her and had effectively saved her. She was grateful that someone had been compassionate enough. And she was too tired and confused to care for the fact that there may have been hidden intentions behind the kind gesture shown to her. She was too tired to manage any suspicion toward her saviour.
Her right ear twitched as she perceived the low sound of a door opening to her right and in response she turned her head and was met with the sight of a woman entering her room. She watched the woman as she gingerly closed the door behind her, intent on not making sounds too loud and the woman the turning towards her. She smiled as she saw Laurel conscious and awake and quickly made her way towards her. Laurel studied the woman. She was tall, perhaps even taller than Gandalf who had been one of the tallest individuals Laurel ever had the pleasure of knowing. She had hair the colour of the wheat that grew on the fields surrounding Hobbiton during the warm months of the year. And as she approached, Laurel looked into her kind brown eyes and immediately her posture relaxed and the young girl let go off a tension she had not realized she was holding. Her wariness and suspicion towards the woman were dispelled as Laurel looked into her warm and concerned eyes that did not hold a hint of malevolence and as the woman's features softened and the wrinkles on her face became more pronounced as she smiled warmly down at the half-elf, Laurel could not help but smile back at her, even if it hurt her face.
The woman sat down beside her and her warm hands touched Laurel's as she looked down at the girl and with a soft voice stated: "You're awake." Laurel closed her eyes and nodded her head carefully afraid that any sudden movement would cause her to cry out in pain as despite the odd comfort she felt in the woman's presence, she could still distinctly feel the painful pounding in her head. She felt the woman taking off the bindings on her wounds and she tensed greatly and her eyes snapped open. Unwillingly yet instinctively she flinched away and looked down warily at the woman. In response to her, the woman looked up and with a sad smile she said: "No need to be afraid. I am only changing the bindings." Laurel hesitated a few moments, an irrational fear packing her considering the woman's seemingly gentle spirit, yet the young girl still felt discomfort at someone looking over the wounds that Azog and her time in the dungeons had inflicted on her. Then, grudgingly, her posture softened and she allowed the woman to look at her wounds, but kept her eyes trained on her for the duration of the procedure. Warm silence enveloped them, yet Laurel soon broke it as she questioned in a cracking voice, that startled her for it seemed utterly foreign to her: "Where am I?" The woman looked up from dressing the wound on her right forearm and smiled beatifically down at her, before answering: "You're at the halls of Beorn, the skin changer, my husband. It was him who found you washed up at the shore of the river and brought you here." After her explanation, the woman returned her attention to her craft. Still on guard, Laurel asked: "Why?"
She saw the woman's brow furrow momentarily with slight confusion, but then her features softened and without looking up she indulgently stated: "My husband is a good man, even if his altruism is at times hindered by his suspicion towards others." For a few seconds, the woman did not say anything further and Laurel furrowed her brows in fear that she had offended the woman by questioning her husband's intentions. She was about to open her mouth to apologize when the woman stated: "I believe that he was unable to leave you to your fate, which undoubtedly would have been grave if he had left you. I believe that you roused my husband's compassion, my dear." Laurel's features softened and warmth consumed her, despite the fact that she did not even know the woman's name she could not help but feel fond gratitude toward her and her husband who had cared for her. She put her left hand on top of the woman's working ones and whispered, as soon as the woman had looked up at her: "Thank you for your kindness." She smiled warmly in response to the woman's nod and smile.
In a soft voice the two women conversed, as Beorn's wife tended to Laurel's wounds. Soon Laurel discovered that the woman before her was named Arien and that her ancestors had the ability to change into the form of an animal at their wish. An ability that she had inherited, as she had told Laurel and which had been proven to her when the woman before her had turned into a fox with a lustrous red coat and brown eyes that were intelligent and shone with mischief at the incredulity on Laurel's face at her transformation. Laurel had in turn told Arien her name and that she was a half-elf, half-hobbit that lived in the Shire. "You're a far way from home then, little hobbit," Arien had stated and squeezed Laurel's hand and Laurel had smiled fondly at the blonde woman before her.
"You have created quite the commotion, my dear." Arien had stated a little later when both women had been acquainted and they had fallen into comfortable silence having told each other all they had wanted or been comfortable to tell the other, with Laurel actively concealing the reason of her distance from the Shire after Arien had questioned her about it. Laurel cocked her head inquisitively at the woman's words and furrowed her brow, silently questioning the warm skin-changer before her. In response Arien smiled warmly and stated: "The company which arrived with Gandalf the Grey have been quite interested in how you fared ever since discovering that Beorn had found you."
She felt her breath escaping her lungs quickly and she looked at the woman incredulously. For a moment, Laurel was submerged in utter disbelief that was so great that she felt numb, that she felt nothing. But then warmth started to rise in her chest and her breath quickened at the euphoric and elating sensation at her discovery that she had found them, that she had found her way back to the company, to Bilbo. Her lips twisted into a small smile and she whispered: "They're here." At the thought of being so close to her cousin, to her best friend, at the thought of having been reunited with him especially after fearing that she would never come to see Bilbo Baggins ever again she let out a sobbing chuckle and shook her head. She had found him. She thought about Fili and Kili, who had been so honest in their apologies after escaping from the Misty Mountains, who had been intent to befriend her so early on, she was reminded of their laughter and their jovial spirit. She was reminded of Bifur and his loyal and steady companionship and of Bofur and his kindness and friendship towards her cousin. Suddenly, the need to see them again was so great that she made to rise only to have Arien put a placating hand on her shoulder and cause her to settle back into bed. "I know you wish to see them again, my dear," Arien said in soft and indulgent whisper "But you mustn't overexert yourself." At the sight of Laurel's dissatisfied expression, Arien said: "Do you wish for me to call for anyone of them?" Laurel nodded her head and appeased she said: "Yes, the hobbit, my cousin." Arien nodded her head and left the room and Laurel settled back awaiting her cousin's arrival.
It was late afternoon and the sun was glowing red and setting on the horizon and the moon would soon take its place, when he joined Thorin Oakenshield on the porch in front of his house. The dwarven leader showed no acknowledgement to his arrival and they both sat in heavy silence at the wooden bench overlooking his gardens. The dwarven king was smoking a late afternoon pipe and was looking fixedly and reflectively off into the distance and Beorn allowed the silence to continue to reign over them. He had been chagrined to discover that the girl, Laurel as his wife had told him, he had found washed up at the shore of the river had been part of Thorin Oakenshield's company. That she had presumably been captured by the Pale Orc, he had been acrimonious that they had allowed a girl that looked as fragile and breakable as her to go on the quest, but most of all he had been angered at the company's inability to care for one of their own. But soon his anger had subsided when he had perceived the care the company held toward the girl. Until this morning when she had woken up, the company and the wizard had been agitated and flustered over her well-being, silently resenting Beorn and his wife because they had prohibited them from entering the room she was located in. His chagrin at them had subsided when he had seen the relief clearly written over their faces when Arien had informed them that Laurel had woken and that she was faring well.
These men cared for the young woman, Beorn could clearly see that. The mute one with the axe embedded in his skull, who had looked so joyed when Arien had told them earlier today that the girl was feeling better. The nephews of Thorin Oakenshield, who had immediately jumped up in enthusiasm at seeing the girl and whose faces had fallen in disappointment when Arien informed them that Laurel had requested the hobbit. Even the battle-hardened reticent Master Dwalin who had looked relieved at the girl's recovery. He looked to the side at Thorin Oakenshield and saw that the dwarven king's eyes had softened and that he was observing something intently in the distance. Beorn followed the king's line of sight and was met with the image of Miss Laurel walking lethargically in his gardens with Master Baggins, who supported her frail tiny form with a protective arm slung around her waist.
"Master Baggins' spirit has definitely been raised since the arrival of Miss Laurel." Beorn stated contemplatively and tore his eyes off the two friends to look at Master Oakenshield. He saw the reticent dwarf nod his head slightly and he said in his deep voice that was made even more raspy from inhaling the pipe smoke: "I imagine he would be. He is incredibly fond of her." All the while, Thorin Oakenshield did not take his eyes off the young woman and Beorn stated knowingly, seeing his wistful gaze: "As are you."
For a few seconds, the leader of the company did not answer and Beorn was most assured that the proud dwarf would not answer to his claim, perhaps even deny that which Beorn could see so clearly. Beorn was just about to take his leave and depart when he heard Thorin confess whisperingly, almost as if to himself: "She surprises me." Beorn looked at the dwarven king to see that he was still studying the girl who was now sat beneath the shade of one of his apple trees. He saw the dwarven king look away when she leaned her head on her cousin's chest and close her eyes, smiling serenely. "Her gentility, her kindness... it surprises me." He saw Thorin shake his head slightly. "I find it... lovely. I find her lovely."
Beorn lowered his gaze, now ashamed that he had intruded on the dwarf's feelings. He knew that no answer to the dwarven king's confession was needed, so he rose and departed, leaving the reticent Thorin Oakenshield behind.
He smiled down fondly at the crown of her head as his fingers brushed through her red curls. For the last few days, ever since that damned night at the cliff, he had never expected to feel joy again. How could he? When his greatest, best companion was seemingly lost, when he had no hope to find her again, when he was haunted by the thought of what might have occurred to her. He had been feeling such guilt, guilt that had allowed her to go on this quest, that despite the fact that he was a careful Baggins he had not thought through all that could occur to her, guilt that he had allowed her to be captured, that he had not remained at her side faithfully as he should've done, as he wanted to, guilt that he had forsaken her and broken the promise that he had given his mother and his best friend.
Yet he felt such elating, overwhelming joy at the moment. Because she was back in his arms, because he could feel the warmth of her body and her tiny hands trained on his chest, because he could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his side, because he had walked into her room earlier that day and she had smiled at him and in her eyes there had been a feeling of anticipation, because she had outstretched her hand to his. He felt joy because he had taken her hand and she had squeezed it, just like she had always done to comfort him and to assure him that she was at his side, that she would support him. Because the one person he cared about, the one he loved above all else had been returned to him and with her a feeling of triumph, of invincibility had taken a hold of him.
"I missed you, Bilbo." He heard her whisper and his smile brightened and he laid his cheek on the crown of her head and he felt comforted. He felt comforted by the feel of her hair against his skin, by the smell of sweet pea that he had come to associate with her, he felt comforted by her sweet voice which he had grievingly thought he would only hear in his dreams, when she'd come to haunt him with her absence and with the bitter happy memories of their time together. "Oh, Rel." Bilbo whispered and tightened his arms around her. "I thought I lost you." He felt her shift beside him and he raised his head and she looked up at him and smiled mischievously up at him and whispered: "I'm afraid you won't get rid of me that easily, Bilbo. I am incredibly stubborn about the things I care for." He chuckled in response to her words.
Suddenly, his eyes were drawn away from her and towards Beorn's house and in the front porch he could make out the form of Thorin Oakenshield, who was studying the interaction between him and Laurel. The dwarf lowered his eyes when he saw that the attention of the two hobbits had been deflected to him and swiftly moved off into the skin changer's halls. He heard his cousin sigh in exasperation and he looked to his side at her to see her shaking her lowered head. She rose quickly and said: "I believe it is time to go back inside. It shall be night time soon and I do not believe that Arien will be too please if I am out at night." He rose and quickly patted of his clothing and as his hands moved over his waist coat, his fingers ghosted over the hardness of the ring. He had told Laurel where he had been during their time in the Misty Mountains when she had questioned his absence. He had told her about his fall deeper into the heart of the mountain. He had told her about Gollum and about his challenge with riddles. He had told her everything, down the detail of the foul and putrid air in his cave and the crazed look in the creature's eyes, yet he hadn't told her about the ring. About the mystical object that had left him enthralled and which's significance eluded him. Yet he knew that he had to hold onto it, that it was vital for him to. Perhaps, Laurel would know more about the ring. She was after all quite clever. Perhaps she would know once he showed it to her.
"I found something in the Gollum's cave, Rel." He said as they were walking back towards Beorn's home. His cousin stopped in her tracks and with her arms slung around her slender form and her forehead crinkled in confusion, she looked questioningly at him. He was just about to take out the ring and show it to her, yet he was petrified when his skin came in contact with the cool metal of the ring. A snarling voice hissed in his mind's inner ear caustic, venomous words 'No, you mustn't tell her. You mustn't tell anyone. You are the Bearer, Baggins and that gives you all the power. No, I am yours Baggins. She will only take me from you. You can not trust her, you can not trust her, she only seeks to take everything from you. No, No, NO!'
Bilbo's jaw dropped as he heard the poisonous words and he allowed them to consume him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bilbo, the young fauntling who had immediately befriended Laurel Took and who had trusted her at first sight screamed at him for his ignorance, for considering these caustic words for even a moment. Yet the ring consumed him momentarily and he knew that he could not bear to part from it, that the possibility of being separated from it for even a moment pained him. He couldn't allow anyone to take the ring from him, not when he hadn't understood it yet.
"What did you find, Bilbo?" He saw Laurel look at him inquisitively with her head cocked. He saw her eyes flicker to his hand at the pocket of his waistcoat and immediately he bristled with indignation at her interest in the ring and felt utter hostility. He quickly buried the ring back into the safety of his pocket and said: "My courage." He saw Laurel's lips part and she searched his face. He wondered if he only imagined the pained and offended look that flashed in her eyes, before she looked down and away from him with her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. They stood at the clearing for a few long seconds before she nodded her head grudgingly and said coldly: "Good. You will most certainly need it." Then she turned from him and departed in the direction of the wooden house. He soon followed.
Summary: Laurel waking up, Laurel talking to Arien, Thorin confessing to Beorn, Beorn Feeling uncomfortable, and Bilbo being consummed by the ring.
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. As you can already see the character Dynamics are going to Change quite a bit. Bilbo is going to get influenced greatly by that nasty ring and Laurel will obviously be affected by her time in Azog's dungeons. You'll just have to wait and see how everything is going to play out.
Can I just say how adorable I found Thorin's confession to Beorn. I was incredibly nervous about writing it, fearing to make him OOC, but I Kind of indulged in this by justifying it with the fact that he obviously felt something really strong for her since the night of the council in Bag End and that now that she has come back he finally realises her importance and all he could have lost without her. But I want to know what you guys think consequently:
QOTW: Do you think that Thorin's Feelings about Laurel are authentic and realistic? Do you think that it was too quick, do you think that it is too OOC? How would you like to see their relationship Play out?
