~~ Celia ~~
Celia spent the remainder of the day with her sister while she slept, preferring to be right there so she could check on her if something where to change. Besides, it's not like they were doing anything interesting downstairs, anyways. They had to wait until dark at least before they could do anything, although she wasn't quite sure what Thorin had planned. Either way, at least some of them had their weapons - her, her sister, Dwalin, Kíli, and Ori for sure. Her uncle had his sword, she knew, and she was sure that Fíli and Nori had knives hidden on them somewhere as well.
She looked out the window and caught sight of the Lonely Mountain in the distance, pale and cold in the light of the setting sun, with no sign of the fire-breathing dragon that lay within. She shuddered at the thought and began to pace around the room, wringing her hands together nervously.
Things were becoming very, very real now, and she was starting to realize just how dreadfully unprepared they were. They were going to take on a live dragon, with just fifteen dwarves and a hobbit - armed with the One Ring. Because that definitely wouldn't stand out to a dragon who was extremely clever, and most likely would be able to sense at least the power in it, if not what it actually was.
And all that aside, there was the whole issue of Thorin's gold-madness, and his subsequent attempt to kill Bilbo and banishment. And then the elves came, and almost started a war with everyone's stupid prejudices and greed, and then there was a real war started, and then the Durins died. She stopped short at the thought, hands flying up to bury themselves in her hair as she clutched at her head. The Durins were going to die. But they weren't just the Durins, a faceless set of names with little to no emotions attached. Not anymore.
It was Thorin, the dwarf who'd taken the time to braid her hair for her, because she didn't know how. The guardian who'd taken them in and let them come along, when he would have been well within his rights to leave them there.
The brother who'd grieved along with her when she thought she'd lost her sister, back in the Misty Mountains. The leader who'd stepped in and given up his own portions of food because Bilbo genuinely needed it, and he refused to let him starve when he could handle hunger better. The warrior who'd been brave enough to admit that he was wrong, and apologize for his mistakes.
It was Fíli, one of the first dwarves to welcome them to the Company wholeheartedly, who'd accepted Bilbo as he was without quarrel. The joker who hid a quiet maturity behind his easygoing nature.
The protector who'd always placed himself first whenever danger presented itself, while shielding them wherever possible. The friend who cared for them both, but had grown closest to Elena. The dwarf who had a special smile he reserved only for her sister, and another he used when he thought she wasn't looking.
And it was Kíli, who she openly admitted had become her best friend while on the journey, in a different way than she had with Fíli and Elena. The prankster who sought only to make others laugh, while never trying to humiliate or hurt them. The guard who'd wrapped himself around her in an effort to protect her from hitting the mountain, when they thought the Stone Giants were going to crush them.
The one who'd carried her for almost six days while she was asleep. The dwarf who'd been by her side from the beginning, wiped the tears from her eyes when she'd sobbed over her sister, hugged her when she didn't think she could take it anymore, and stood by her, quietly watchful in every confrontation. The one who'd rooted himself in her heart somehow, so deeply that she didn't think he'd ever come out with breaking something irreparable.
It wasn't just the dwarf king who fell facing Azog, it was the dwarf she'd come to respect and admire, lying bleeding out on the ground, knowing his nephews were dead. It wasn't just the dwarf heir, who'd been killed by Azog and dropped down a ravine, it was Fíli. The dwarf who'd promised her sister he'd look out for her, who could make her sister smile and blush with just a smile of his own. And it was Kíli, her best friend, who'd started sending her a few special smiles of his own, who was so blinded by grief that he was struck down by Bolg in a desperate battle.
She groaned and dropped to the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest and burying her nails in her head, ignoring the pain it brought. They were nearly at the mountain, and they still had barely even thought about how they were really going to save the Durins.
And what about Smaug? He was going to attack Lake-town. People were going to die. And they knew that ahead of time. Which would make them partially responsible for their deaths, if they did nothing. But how would they even be able to warn them? Who would believe them? And if they did, who's to say that they wouldn't just lock up the dwarves, and keep them from going to the mountain, to prevent them from rousing him.
Of course, if that happened, that would cause a whole other load of problems. Like, Smaug not being dead, and then potentially allying with Sauron, which would be catastrophic. Or, him rousing anyways, and killing everyone in the Company when he descends on Lake-town.
She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears, trying to block out the horrifying images suddenly racing through her head. She bit her lip, forcing down the bile that threatened to rise at the thought of everyone in the Company, all the friends she's made, dying because of something she did. She couldn't do that - she wouldn't. She refused to let them die.
A gentle hand placed itself over hers and she flinched instinctively, opening her eyes warily to see Kíli kneeling in front of her, a worried look on his face. He brought his free hand up to lay over her other hand, clasping her cold hands in his warm ones before slowly lowering them from her ears, turning them around to cup her fingers in his.
"Celia? What's wrong?"
She swallowed hard, casting her gaze down to the floor and trying desperately to keep her eyes from watering. "Nothing. I'm fine."
He scoffed. "Maybe that'd be a little bit more believable if you weren't clutching my hands like I'm about to disappear. You should know me better than to think I'll believe that by now," he reprimanded her gently. "Now, what's actually wrong?" She winced, starting to pull her hands out of his, only for him to reclaim his grip. "I never said for you to stop. I'm your friend, Celia. If what you need right now is someone to hold your hand, I'll hold your hand."
She sniffed, raising her eyes up to glare at him, her lips jutting out into a pout. "You need to stop doing that."
He raised an eyebrow. "Doing what? Being a friend? Looking out for my best friend? Because I'm just gonna be upfront and tell you, I'm not going to stop."
"See, that's what I'm talking about!" she exclaimed vehemently. "That right there! You need to stop being so nice!"
"... Dare I ask why?"
She stared at the ground again stubbornly. "Because you're making me like you, and I don't want to like you this much! It would just... it would just..." Her voice faded away, leaving her words hanging awkwardly in the air.
"It would just what? What's wrong with liking me?" Kíli asked quietly, trying to meet her anxious eyes with his worried ones. "What are you trying to say?" His face was worried, but his tone was soft - cautious, even.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes tight in an attempt to gather her courage before opening them again, meeting his eyes for the first time. "Kíli, we're about to go face a dragon. A dragon who would love nothing more than to set us all on fire as soon as he saw us. And we're being hunted by an orc pack. It's bad enough that Bilbo and Elena are going to be going, and then Óin, and Bofur, and Fíli, and then you... You're my best friend! So many people who I could lose forever in just a few days."
Her eyes wandered to a spot over his shoulder, her eyes distant as she suddenly clutched his hands tight. "There's so many things that could go wrong - so many things that will. And just because things went all right the first time, doesn't mean that they will now. Elena and I weren't here before - there's no guarantee that she'll be all right. Or you guys! Things could have changed by our being here, and you could end up being killed. The idea was bad enough to think about back when we hardly knew you, but now that I care about all of you, it's - I can't -" She huffed in frustration and pulled her hands from Kíli's to bury them in her hair once more. To her surprise, he let her.
"So what you're saying," he mused in a thoughtful tone, "is that you don't want to see us burned to a crisp. You know, I think that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
She pulled her hands away from her head to stare at him incredulously, noticing indignantly the way he was suppressing laughter. "Yes, you idiot! Of course I don't want to see you hurt! I'm a healer!"
He shook his head sadly. "And to think we were on such a nice track," he mourned. Dropping the act, he sat up straight and looked her in the eye. "Celia. I say this with the utmost fondness and complete understanding, but you're being ridiculous right now." She drew back to do something - sputter indignant rebuttals, glare him into submission, or something equally unlikely - but froze when she suddenly found herself wrapped in a warm embrace.
"You're my best friend too," he reminded her, his voice quiet. "Fíli's my brother, and I've seen how much Elena means to both of you, aside from how much of a friend she is to me. Both of us have uncles that are more like fathers to us going in there, where they're likely, knowing our luck, to come face to face with Smaug. Actually, it might be sheer stubbornness on Uncle's part, but still. Do you think I'm not terrified of losing someone - everyone - that I care about in that mountain?"
He drew back a little to look at her, clutching her shoulders while she stared at him with wide eyes. "I have no personal draw to Erebor. I grew up with everyone I cared about in the Blue Mountains, and I was happy enough there. I came on this quest because Uncle was going, and I wasn't about to let him go alone. The Blue Mountains were my home, but Erebor is his. Almost everyone that I'm really concerned about is going in that mountain with me. And I'm terrified out of my mind that I'm going to lose someone I care about desperately for the sake of a rock -whether it's the Arkenstone, or the mountain itself."
He softened his grip a little and sighed, losing some of the fire that seemed to have possessed him. "But I have to keep going. And I have to look on the bright side. Yes, we could all die, but we could also all not die. Smaug could have died in his sleep, and we'll reclaim the mountain without a fight, or we'll kill him without any losses. I mean, we're in a town that's literally built over a deep lake. We could trip going down the stairs, fall into the lake, and drown. Does that mean we should just huddle up here by the wall for the rest of our lives?"
The question was rhetorical, but Celia dutifully answered anyways. "No." Then she shot him a glance with a hint of her usual mischief. "The wood could rot and collapse. We should move to the middle of the plains, somewhere. That way we can see everything that's coming, and there's nothing that could come out of nowhere and kill us."
Kíli shot her a deadpan look. "Well, hello there, Paranoia. I thought you looked familiar." He shook his head. "My point is, yes, we're going into a dangerous situation. But the entire journey here has been dangerous, and we've all survived so far. We can't go into this thinking we're going to lose. Every day brings something new, and it's better to meet it hoping for the best, rather than assuming the worst. Look, I get where you're coming from, I really do. All of us do. Fíli and Elena are scared of the same things. So's Thorin. So's Bilbo. So, how about we all just agree to look out for each other?" he suggested.
"After all, with everyone being all paranoid, we should make great look-outs for the others. You can protect me from the dragon, and I'll protect you from the tiny spiders barely the size of my pinky that cross your boot while you're walking."
Celia immediately raised her voice in protest, although the flush in her cheeks betrayed her. "It was easily the size of my hand! At least! And it could have been poisonous, considering we were in Mirkwood, you know!"
He shook his head in amusement. "Yeah, but your hand is barely the size of my pinky, Celia," he pointed out. He lifted her hand into the air and then matched it up with his for comparison. And while his example was a bit extreme, his hand literally dwarfed hers. "It wasn't even trying to bite you - it just happened to crawl across your boots as it was trying to cross the path while you were standing still. It was probably far more scared of you than you were of it, jumping around and screaming the way you were," he teased.
Celia crossed her arms and pouted, although a distant part of her mind silently acknowledged and applauded Kíli's skill at putting her at ease again, without once making her feel like a fool for her worries - about the dragon, at least. Spiders, on the other hand... "I happened to know there were poisonous spiders in Mirkwood, and I was almost killed by one when I was little. I think I'm entitled to a little fear."
"I would certainly agree with you, if you'd actually showed just a 'little fear'," Kíli returned. "But I hardly think that shrieking 'Kill it! Kill it!' over and over at the top of your lungs while removing your boot and throwing it as far down the path as possible was just a little bit."
Celia stuck her nose up in the air and sniffed haughtily. "Don't sully my story with facts," she rebuked him. "Spiders in Middle Earth are literally the spawn of Ungoliant. I rest my case."
"What case?" Celia stiffened at the new voice before realizing it was Fíli, standing in the doorway and staring down at the two of them on the floor, a bemused expression on his face. "Do I even want to know what you two were doing? What kind of devious plots were you cooking up just now?"
"Only the best, as per the usual," Kíli said cockily, getting to his feet and pulling Celia up with him. "Celia needed a hug, and I'm the best hug-giver around, so..." He shrugs like it was obvious.
"Oh?" Fíli raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Because I think Dwalin needs a hug - why don't you go give him one? It might put him in a better mood."
Kíli scoffed. "Because I like my face the way it is, thank you very much. If it gets rearranged too much, I could end up looking like you, and that's something I'd rather avoid, if at all possible." He nudged his brother with his shoulder.
Celia skipped neatly out of the way of the brief ensuing wrestle and headlock, waiting patiently until things had calmed down to speak, a smile lifting the edges of her lips. "If you children are done, I'm assuming you had a reason you came in here?" She winced at a sudden realization and turned to Kíli apologetically. "You didn't have an important message when you found me, did you?"
To her relief the dark-haired prince shook his head. "I just wanted to see how you were doing, and if you wanted someone to talk to."
"I do, actually," Fíli said apologetically. "Sorry. We're leaving. As soon as possible. I'm to gather you lot, and get you downstairs. Is it all right if we wake Elena up? Will she be well enough to travel?"
As it turned out, she was well enough to travel - and grumpy enough at being woken up that she hit Fíli in the face with her pillow when he jostled her shoulder. Her fever had gone down, and her eyes sparkled mischievously as she stared unrepentantly at the complaining prince.
The jocular mood quickly faded as they rejoined the group downstairs, where Thorin was waiting impatiently for them. "Good. We leave, we get our weapons, we go," he said briefly, in a tone that brooked no dispute. Everyone quietly gathered up their things, Celia and Kíli slinging their bows and quivers over their shoulders before heading to the back door, where Bain tried to stop them.
"Wait, please," he pleaded. "It's not safe! The house is being watched, you can't just leave!"
"Just try and stop us, laddie," Dwalin said curtly, pushing past him and leading the way out the back door, silently followed by the others.
Celia, at the back of the group, stopped by him, feeling bad for the boy who had only been following orders. "Tell your da thank you for us, please," she requested. "And tell him I'm sorry. I wish it didn't have to be like this." She looked him in the eye and waited until he nodded in understanding before following the group.
Once they were outside, they snuck along the walkways in silence, dodging behind various objects in their efforts to hide from the watchmen. Someone - that was not Thorin, judging by the fact that they didn't get lost - seemed to know the route to the armory, and they managed to reach the tall building without being found out, although there were a few close calls.
"As soon as we have the weapons, we make straight for the mountain. Go!" Thorin whisper-shouted as soon as they verified the area as being clear of watchmen. Celia and Elena pressed themselves against the far side of the group as the rest of them piled up against the wall underneath an open second floor window. At a signal from Thorin, Nori took a running leap and, boosted by the steady hands of the group, practically flew towards the window. Bilbo went next, although he was clearly not at all thrilled to be doing so.
After a few minutes, several of the dwarves were inside, and gathering up weapons for the trek to the mountain, while the rest kept an anxious watch outside. Since Kíli had no injured leg, it seemed as though there would be nothing to attract attention this time. But that was not to be. One moment, all was silent in the night, and the next, a terrible crash rent the air. Celia closed her eyes as the shouts of watchmen filled the night, all running towards the source of the sound. Some of them tried to run, but when Celia had opened her eyes, they were surrounded by guards holding pikes.
Not even bothering to draw her bow - not that she wanted to use it anyways - she held her hands up in surrender, her sister doing the same. Elena winced as the motion drew at her still-healing arm, and lowered it slightly in an attempt to lessen the strain as they were surrounded. Celia winced as one of the guards roughly ripped her quiver and bow off her arm, and turned to glare at the man.
"Dude, I wasn't resisting! You didn't have to be so rough!" she complained, torn between rubbing at the back of her hair, where some of her hair had been pulled, or her shoulder, which was now aching. "I wasn't even trying to draw it!" The man sneered at her before patting down her sides in a quick search for more weapons, then placing a hard grip on her arm and jerking her towards the others, who had all received the same treatment, more or less. "And can you let go?" she snapped, trying to jerk her arm out of his grip. "I'm not going to run."
A cry from her left made her whip her head around. Another one of the guards was bringing Elena along by the arm - her left arm, and judging by the pallor of her skin, it was directly over her wound. "Let me go! I'm injured there, please, just take my other arm, I don't care, just let go! You're hurting me," she pleaded, arm clawing fruitlessly at his iron grip.
Celia clenched her hands into fists, straining against her captor's grip at the sight. The dwarves who hadn't been distracted by their own struggles were incensed at the willfully harmful treatment, and renewed their struggles, only ceasing when the weapons were leveled at their throat. Fíli and Kíli, in particular, looked murderous, and Bilbo rendered what looked like an incredible painful kick to his captor's leg that left him limping for the rest of the trip.
The commotion began to attract the attention of the townsfolk, and by the time they had arrived at the Master's mansion, there was a sizeable gathering behind them. Elena had ceased her struggles, and fallen silent when it became obvious that there was to be no relief, but a few tears that she had no control over had made their way down her face. As they grew closer to the mansion, a small man dressed in all black with extremely pale skin standing out against his black hair peered out the front door, taking in the commotion with wide eyes before disappearing.
A moment later, the chief guard, identified as Braga, had arranged them all in front of the doors, and a stern look had Elena released, and she nearly collapsed to the ground in relief. Fíli immediately pulled himself free and darted over to her, lifting her up and letting her rest against him as he glared at the guard. As guards pulled open the front door of the mansion, a tall, overweight man with stringy red hair roughly arranged into a comb-over and a mustache stormed out, still struggling to put on his coat.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, in the voice of one used to being obeyed - but without the quiet dignity that Thorin and the elvish lords possessed.
"We caught 'em stealing weapons, sire," Braga announced, stepping forward.
The Master nodded sagely. "Ah. Enemies of the state, then."
"This is a bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, sire," Alfrid agreed in his nasally voice.
Dwalin shoved off his guard and stomped forward angrily. "Hold your tongue. You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal; this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!" He gestured to his king as Thorin stepped forward and the crowd began to murmur in amazement.
"We are the dwarves of Erebor," Thorin announced, every inch of him regal and commanding as the crowd whispered in shock and recognition, some of them craning their necks in an effort to see better. "We have come to reclaim our homeland. I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the center of all trade in the North," he reminded them, his voice earnest. "I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"
The people began to cheer and clap at this, talking excitedly, while the Master nodded calculatingly. He may have been a greedy fop, but Celia could tell just by watching him that he was calculating what he could gain from this. But the cheer didn't last when a deep, angry voice rang out over the crowd, drawing silence.
"Death! That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all!" Bard shouted, striding towards them. And the mood of the people, ever fickle, began to change as anxious whispers began to fly about.
Thorin smirked and merely raised his voice louder. "You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!" he promised, turning the tide once more in their favor as the people began to applaud eagerly, and the Master smiled and nodded, pleased with that turn of events.
"All of you! Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?!" Bard demanded desperately. "Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?!" There was a resounding 'no' from the people. " And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain-king so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!" He glared at Thorin, who returned it in kind, the muttering of the people setting an eerie backdrop until the Master stepped forward.
"Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!" He pointed a chubby finger accusingly at Bard, only encouraging the clamor of the crowd as Thorin stared at him in shock and anger. Celia rolled her eyes. So one man failed to kill a dragon that literally hundreds of other people failed to kill also. Shocker.
"It's true, sire. We all know the story: arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark." Alfrid sneered at Bard while simultaneously buttering up the Master.
Bard looked around in defeat, knowing he'd lost the crowd as they began to yell at him. He stepped up to Thorin and said something to him quietly, his face hard. Thorin merely glared coolly at him and returned the favor before turning to face the Master, the people quieting down as he speaks.
"I speak to the Master of the men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?"
The Master thought for several seconds, as if he hadn't already decided, then beamed and pointed a welcoming, if fleshy, finger at Thorin. "I say unto you... welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!" He threw his arms open wide as the people began to cheer and hug each other ecstatically. Thorin climbed up a few steps and turned to face the audience, before engaging in a silent face-off with Bard. When his eyes met Celia's, she mouthed an apology to him as best as she could, biting her lip when he just turned away.
Once they were all free, Celia reclaimed her weapons with glee from the now-sheepish guard, before strolling over to the guard who'd held Elena, tapping on his arm to get his attention. When he'd turned around, she swung her boot into his shin as hard as he could, taking a rare sadistic pleasure from the pain in his expression as his leg buckled. She ducked back out of the way before he could react, although Kíli had taken the time to step up beside her, his expression hard.
"Next time you decide to mistreat an innocent injured woman who's not resisting, and begging you to stop, make sure she doesn't have people who care about her. In fact, make sure I never hear about it. Because I will hunt you down," Celia snarled.
"I won't kill you, don't worry - that goes against my morals, something which you seem to lack, along with brains. But I have a much looser moral barrier when it comes to shooting you in the kneecap. Or other places. I'm a healer, and that means I know exactly where I can hurt you most without killing you." She stuck her head close to the guard's, still trying to catch his breath. "Stay away from my sister. Or I can guarantee that I will not be the only one out for your blood."
A/N: So, who thought that there was going to be a love confession this chapter? Anyone? :D We came close to it, at least. And then we just got ticked off Celia. *shrugs* Any other reactions will come in the next chapter, including Elena's, and Fíli's.
Special thanks to everyone who's favorited and followed, and shout-out to Outofthisworldgal, Lady Silverstar2, and E for reviewing! :)
Outofthisworldgal: Actually, I don't think the Master was too bad this chapter (Next chapter? Eh, maybe. We'll see). It was more the guard. (At least Celia got some revenge this chapter) And tbh, I feel kind of bad for Bard right now. Thorin's being a jerk, and Bard is rightfully concerned about protecting his people. Thanks for reviewing! Hope you liked it! :D
Lady Silverstar2 : Thanks! Elena is growing ever so slightly fond of our dear blonde prince. ;D I'm glad to see you're enjoying it, and I hope you like this one! :)
E: Moi? Playing matchmaker? *shocked face* Why ever would I do such a thing? What on earth makes you think that? *Ignores everything even slightly romantic that happened in this chapter* Nothing too big got revealed this chapter... But there'll be at least one next chapter. At least. Thanks for reviewing! Hope you enjoyed! :)
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :)
General Disclaimer : I don't own the Hobbit, just Elena and Celia. (Oh, and the awful guard, but you guys can have him. I don't like him)