Wren woke up, cold dreary light of Winter sun streaming through the window of the Skinchanger's house, and after stretching and yawning she nested again in the warmth under her blankets. Her eyes lazily studied the room, in actuality without seeing a single object, her thoughts on the events of her dream. She closed her eyes, recalling the features of the Dwarven King, the soft line of his lips, the satiated half smile, the smooth unworried brow… She remembered his strands scattered on the pillow of the bed in her dream, and the deep even breathing raising his chest. Wren was deceiving herself and knew of it, but she allowed herself to pretend that until she was up and out of her bed, the dream was still lingering with her. He was still near her, and she was lying with her eyes closed, listening to the fatigue in her muscles. As a healer Wren knew that mind and body were the same, the unity, if a person dreamt of exertions, and she had dreamt of plenty, the body would be tired in the morning. She was so very exhausted, and she laughed in giddy surprise. Even the muscles in her buttocks were sore, and she could just remember what of her dream activities caused this tiredness.
Wren rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling. Perhaps, she was mad, but she was thoroughly enjoying her morning after the first night with the King, and a moronic uncontrollable grin spread on her face. She was feeling very, very satisfied and, as reproachful as such emotions were, very much smug.
She went down to breakfast, humming a merry tune and skipping over steps, but upon entering the house's large kitchen she froze in the doors. The dwellers of the house sat around the table and an obvious tension was hanging above the abundant meal. For an instant Wren felt mortified, imagining that she could have again disclosed the content of her dreams, perhaps she had been loud again, and blood rushed away from her face, but considering the hasty absentminded greetings that she received and the snarl of Dwalin's face Wren realised she was not the reason of the unease in the room.
"I have to remind you again, Master Dwarf," Amrod's voice rang, and Wren saw him clenching the handle of his mug, his knuckles white, "I know the Mountains better than you. The path you have chosen previously brought you back here, and it will happen again. The only difference I might not be there to save Alfirin."
"That is not my name," Wren's voice was quiet, but something in her tone made everyone turn their heads and look at her. Her eyes were locked with the brown ones of the Ithilien ranger, and sudden realisation flooded her. "And you are not going to the Mountains with us, honourable ranger. As grateful as I am for your aid, and I understand I am forever in your debt, it is just the three of us who will continue the journey."
Deafening silence and astonished stares were the answer to her words, and she sat down and pulled a plate towards her. Wren took a deep breath in and lifted her eyes to meet Amrod's. Muscle knots danced on his jaw, and then he slowly rose and left the kitchen. From the corner of her eye Wren caught Martha shaking her head mournfully, but Wren just could not find a single doubt in her heart that she acted correctly.
After breakfast Wren went in search of Amrod and found him sitting on the back porch, smoking his long narrow pipe, his cloak thrown over his shoulders. She stopped a few steps behind him, and he spoke quietly without turning his head, his voice shaking from hardly controlled rage.
"You are making a mistake, Alfirin. Nothing good comes from going against one's destiny." Wren sighed.
"Perhaps," she did not want to argue with him. "But every time I think I am rejecting something I was destined to do, something new happens and it turns out I would have made a mistake had I agreed." He slightly turned and gave her a questioning look. She slowly approached him and sat on a bench near him. "You do not know me, Amrod," it was one of the first times she had ever used his name, and he drew a sharp breath in, "Do not misunderstand me, I believe you, I believe you have had your dreams and even it is possible I am the woman you saw in them… But it is never to happen. I will never be your Alfirin."
"Something is broken in my destiny, Amrod," Wren continued, her eyes on the snow covered hills in front of them, "Everything I thought was to be does not happen. Everything that makes sense is not to come. The world of Men, where I belonged by my birth and my craft… I had to leave it… The Elves offered me a sanctuary, I refused it. And you..." She turned to him and gave him a small smile. "I could see how time could pass, and we could grow close, and as improbable as it is, you could love me," she noticed her heart was still and calm at these words, "Perhaps because of your dreams, or even our tempers could be suitable, and with time even such a splendid man could grow to love a small plain bird, but… I belong to another, and he to me, in life and death..." Her voice broke, and she felt tears run down her cheeks. The elation of the morning was wearing off, and she felt cold again.
"One can heal and love again, Wren. You buried your King, and you live. You need to accept it," Amrod's tone was insistent, and Wren ignored the irritation rising in her. He was once again judging what he knew nothing of, but she did not want to confront him and disclose more than he already knew.
"I will never love another. And forgive my hasty judgement of your character, but do I gather it right you are a man of charm?" She asked giving him a pointed look.
"If you are asking me if I have led a lecherous life before, I will not deny it, Alfirin, but I swear to you, were I to have you..." He rushed to reassure her, but she waved her hand at him.
"Maiar forbid, I do not reprobate!" She interrupted him and brushed her hand on his forearm. "All I want to say is that you have known women, but you have never settled. And something tells me that dream of yours was quite a convenient excuse for you..." She asked impishly, and the corner of his lips twitched in a lopsided smirk. "Had you wished to take a wife, there must have been hundreds of willing, and yet..."
"I have been waiting for you, Wren," his voice dropped, in a low fruity murmur, but she chuckled unaffected.
"And you have met me. And now you could say your destined one has rejected you but you will preserve her image in your heart and will never belong to another." He was trying to suppress a grin, but it escaped. They looked into each other's eyes for a few instants, and Wren sighed. "Perhaps in another life we were destined for each other, Amrod, son of Mablung, but this time my story is nothing but a fractured journey..." He was silent, studying her face, and then she saw some sort of decisive calmness flood his features. He gave her a small nod, and nothing else was needed to be said.
"And where does it lead, Wren?" He asked her, and she shivered. The ranger picked up the cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her.
"I do not know, but I know where it ends. It ends where it started," Wren was speaking more to herself than to him, "In the catacombs of the Kingdom Under the Mountain."
"That is not a journey, Wren, that is a circuition. I prefer my travels to be open-ended, nothing but a road ahead of me," he was frowning now, and she rose.
"And may they be open and bear just the right amount of adventures," Wren gave him a gentle smile and leaning in pressed her lips to his high forehead. "Farewell, honourable Ranger of Ithilien." She placed his cloak on his lap and went back into the house.
"Do you not want to know what I saw in my dreams, Wren?" He called after her, and she threw him a sad look over her shoulder.
"I have been giving up so much these days, Amrod, I do not want to know what I have just rejected. It would be too painful. I will just look back and think of a handsome and charming ranger. I do not want to know more," Wren turned away and decisively closed the door behind her.
Amrod left the same day, claiming to be travelling West, and Wren did not see his departure. She was packing her belongings, folding warm clothes that Martha gave her into her bags and reviewing provisions they had prepared.
In four days they were ready to leave the hospitable house of the Skinchanger. They had a large dinner, a lot of mead was drunk, and Bofur and Dwalin sang. The tattooed warrior was much more merry after the departure of the Ithilien ranger, and to Wren's surprise in Amrod's absence Dwalin did not attempt to take the reigns over their trip, giving up all power to Wren.
They set on the road before dawn, in the crisp air of december, Beorn and Martha waving to them, and Wren marched without turning back. Something told her she would see them again, and she was leaving with a light heart.
The weather seemed to favour them this time, and they were now travelling by foot, only the most necessary things packed into the bags on their backs. Days went on and on, another night with the King came, full of warmth and passion and love. In the morning Wren woke up with tears on her eyes, and after that she just could not seem to shake off some strange cold feeling in her chest. Arrival to Rivendell was upon them, and Wren was feeling she would find her answer there. She also knew that it would mean a sea of suffering to her, but no choice had been given to her from the start, and she just trod through the snow stubbornly, the walking stick in her hand, and pain growing and blooming in her heart.
A/N: Serious question to you, my darlings! (not really, but please read and answer in a review if you can :D)
Currently I have Me Without You (with the companion piece), Thorin's Barrel of Fun and Thorin Oakenshield and the Conundrum of Ginger Transfer Student (Harry Potter crossover) running at the same time.
But damn it, because I was updating Thorin's Timeline (short guide to my stories) and because that bloke from "Outlander" TV series is virtually EVERYWHERE these days, and he is just SCREAMING Dain, son of Thorin, I got very inspired about Life That Always Will Be *whispers* I have three chapters.
So…
If I start updating that story as well, would it be too much? I feel like you, as readers, might feel scattered and it could take away from reading experience. I only want for everyone to enjoy my writing (if possible :D) So let me know, if you want another story to run at the same time, or we should wait till Me Without You is completed and then move to Life That Always Will Be.
Thank you for your attention and can't wait to hear what you think (and what you thought of this chapter as well please :D)
Love you all ardently,
kkolmakov