„Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, I must, each day say o'er the very same, Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name. So that eternal love in love's fresh case weighs not the dust and injury of age."-Sonnet CVIII- William Shakespeare
The morning had dawned earlier than she'd expected. She hadn't slept. At first she had been unable to and had gone out into the night and then when she'd run back into the sanctuary of her room, she had long given up any hope of rest for the night. Sooner than she'd wished for the morning had dawned grey on the horizon, announcing the arrival of Durin's Day. It had been a morning like any before, the dawn had greyed on the sky, the sun had risen on the east and the chill of winter had remained lying on the land. All undeterred by her accusing gaze and her silent wishes that night would stretch itself into endless eons of time. She didn't believe that she had ever longed for darkness, the dusk of night as greatly as she had done, as she did, at the moment.
She looked up at her reflection in the looking glass, as she fastened the last lace of the dress the Master had given her. Looking at her weary and defeated expression she exhaled deeply and gave an inaudible sigh. She had never thought herself a great beauty, despite what her aunt had told her. The young hobbit fauntlings had taunted her for her appearance and its eccentric nature ever since her arrival at Hobbiton. How could she truly believe that she was beautiful when she looked so different from Bell and from Aurelia, who were considered particularly attractive hobbit lasses. Yet she knew, no matter how indifferent or even unhappy she had been with her previous appearance, that it could not compare with her state now. The bruises she'd received from her captivity had healed, yet there were deep dark rings beneath her eyes and her skin was ashen in its colour. With a dull sense of regret she recognized the shade as the one her mother had sported during her last few days. Her hair looked almost blindingly bright against her expression. In vain did she try to search for the hopeful sadness that Bard had seen in them. But all she saw in her tired eyes was a jaded sense of defeat.
Putting on the green shawl that had been provided for her, she looked up when a knock sounded on her door. Not paying mind to who could possibly be the visitor and to which extent she may not wish to meet him, she mumbled loud enough for him to hear: "Enter."
In the reflection, she saw the heavy wooden door open and the face that had brought her so much comfort during her childhood, a feeling which now was dulled and muted and she could only feel faintly, was brought into her sight. She looked into her cousin's warm eyes and saw him smiling at her with a sense of excitement clouding his eyes. With effort, she made the corner of her lips rise and gave him a small smile. He came towards her and let himself down on her bed, all the while not saying a word, not taking his eyes off her form as she studied herself in the mirror. He was wearing a new blue overcoat, having given up his tattered old coat from the Shire and seemed to brim with anticipation and excitement. And it caused great disapproval in her, but then she reminded herself that Bilbo still believed in this quest, still believed that Thorin Oakenshield reclaiming his home would be the best for everyone. Oh how she wished she could still share his views!
She looked down and closed her eyes as visualizing the possible repercussion for the Laketowners caused her eyes to sting painfully. Perhaps she was naive and innocent to so readily believe in the words of a stranger, because he had seemed noble and had been kind to her. Yet she could not help but feel that she had, albeit unknowingly, put forth a series of events which would only bring pain and heartache. It had only been because of her hunger for adventure, her fancy. Had she listened to Bilbo, had she been reasonable like the Baggins's household she had been brought up in she might have spared herself so much pain. Perhaps she should've relied on Gandalf's assurance and his belief in the necessity of reclaiming Erebor, but after their secret conversation on Beorn's she could not help but doubt the wizard. She knew, she had always known, that her thirst and need for adventure would have never brought her any good.
"Rel," her eyes snapped up to her cousin's reflection as he addressed her. She did not say anything, her tongue tied and her lips sewed shut. She didn't believe there was anything to say, not to Bilbo, not to any dwarves, when inwardly she howled like a wounded animal, when she longed to shout from the rooftops all her hurt and her doubt. She had so much doubt in her. He smiled warmly at her and said, gravely: "It all comes down to today." She nodded her head, mute as a wooden board and she wondered if all her disapproval, her feelings that she needed to maintain hidden for the sake of her cousin's safety, was being projected from her. She couldn't have Bilbo worry about her opinion, she knew all the weight, all the responsibility that was put on her dear burglar.
She looked away, lest she reveal what she truly felt to Bilbo, as he had always possessed the uncanny ability to figure her out. But then he stepped towards her and said with a sigh that expressed his disappointment, as if he'd lost her already before he'd said anything: "Rel, I do not wish for you to go." Her eyes snapped towards him and she furrowed her brow as she saw him looking at her with a desperate, beseeching expression. "Please," he uttered beneath his breath "I won't be able to think with you there." Without looking down, she blinked her eyes and then pursing her lips she said: "Do not worry yourself. I do not wish to go."
Through the looking glass, she saw him looking at her with a disillusioned expression. Almost as if he had expected her vehement and fiery protest and she supposed if she still held her beliefs that had died like the foliage and greenery with the winter tide, she would have done so, with utter and unchangeable determination that her cousin would have fought against.
As she looked at Bilbo's expressions that was so utterly shocked, and he mumbled 'But why' she couldn't help herself. She had been so decided to uphold her decision to appear indifferent, to appear neutral to what fate would bring them. But she should have known better. Should have known that she would have been unable to ever hide something from him. She wilted beneath his confusion and wringing her hands, she whispered: "I wish to have no part in this." She did not dare look at Bilbo, lest she see his reaction to her indirect criticism of his friends. She did not even look at him when she felt him put his hand on top of hers, to stop the nervous habit that they shared. She did not look up into that beloved face that had become so foreign to her, something that she loathed with every fibre of her being. She shook her head and whispered in an accusing tone: "I do not wish to contribute any more than I already have to the demise of this people."
Gently she slipped her hands out of his and breathed past him with nimble steps to make her way outside. She ignored his heavy gaze on her back as he followed her every step of the way. She made her way outside and descended the step he had stood upon so proudly last night when the Laketowners had bellowed and cheered their support of him. Self-deprication filled her when she recalled his proud posture, the pride and gladness in his eyes. She walked quickly, as if trying to outrun that despite everything, despite all her pain she still wanted him.
Bilbo no longer followed her when they reached the main square in front of the Master's residence and he joined the already assembled dwarves who stood with anticipation awaiting their departure to Erebor. She walked with nimble steps across the path which had been formed by the Laketowners to allow the company of Thorin Oakenshield to reach the vessel that would take them to Erebor. And she did not look at the excited and cheerful faces of the mass. No longer did the streets of Laketown seem heavy and draped with weariness and defeated sadness. A new hope had lifted their spirits from the cesspit of melancholy they had found themselves in. Yet she could not share their euphoria, she could not understand why no one seemed to realise the ruin that possibly loomed in the horizon. She didn't understand why they would be celebrating something which could bring about their possible end.
She arrived at the quay where the vessel was tied to. Immediately she looked away in disbelieving exasperation as she saw Thorin Oakenshield taking the weapons that the Master had provided them from the guards and loaded them into the boat. She looked away late enough that she could see him straighten at her arrival. She pursed her lips and cursed whatever force brought them together repeatedly. She did not look at him, in his direction, even when she felt him walk towards. She did not look into that face, that made her heart seize with worry and regret as well as longing simultaneously.
He came to a stop before her and looked down at her. She did not know if he expected her to address him, yet if he did he would find himself sorely disappointed as she had no intention to. The urge to start wringing her hands nervously flooded her, but he knew the gesture and she did not wish to give him any outward sign or index. She sighed lowly and then he raised his hand and in a private gesture, one that was between them and was so tender her heart started to beat furiously in her chest, he caressed her cheek. As she felt his large calloused hand touch the skin of her cheek in a gesture which suggested reverence on his part, she had to resist the urge to lean into that touch. But then it was all too soon gone and he took her hand and made his way to the vessel. She did not cooperate and stood still. He looked over his shoulder at her, as he saw her standing still and furrowed his brow in confusion. She knew that she was looking at him with a lost gaze, the gaze of a child, the child she still was as she had realised, because his expression softened and with an expression that was meant to be warm but which she perceived as patronizing he stated: "Come, we must depart soon if we wish to arrive at Erebor before the last light of Durin's day."
She slipped her hand out of his and stated in a decided voice: "I am not going." At first he furrowed his brow in confusion to her statement, almost as if he disbelieved the truth and determination behind her claim. But then realisation dawned on him and he looked at her with a dissatisfied gaze. Stepping closer towards her he said: "You are coming. With me. To Erebor." She looked down as she heard him mumble something that sounded like 'Where you belong.' She shook her head and stated: "Bilbo has bid me not to go. He worries for my safety."
She observed as his nostrils flared and he stated through gritted teeth: "Do not give me that excuse. I know you. If this quest truly lied in your greatest interest wild horses would not hold you back from being at my side when I enter those halls." She looked up at him and stated with a caustic voice: "Then as you know me so well, you will also be able to realise why I no longer approve." He looked at her with angry eyes and as he was about to state something in retaliation, his attention was pulled away as the rest of his company arrived. He looked back towards her and hissed: "I do not have time for your caprices." He was just about to turn from her when he seemed to be reminded of something. His head snaked out and he grabbed the back of her head. He had wound her red hair on his wrist and pulled on her hair so that her head was raised to meet his gaze. He brought his face closer to hers and stated hotly: "As soon as I am done, I will come back and get you." Then he let go off her and stalked towards his company.
She shook her head, almost as if wishing to get any traces of his touch from her, any trace of his possessiveness. An intense dislike expanded in her chest. He wished to own her, but she was a free being. She did not wish to be his. She watched with angry eyes as the armoured dwarves arrived and climbed into the boat. Yet when Kili was about to enter the vessel Thorin stopped him. She watched as the two dark-haired sons of Durin conversed. While Thorin remained resolute and solemn Kili's expression varied from amused, to disbelief and then to utter disappointed disillusionment. As Kili looked up at his uncle, his idol with a heart-broken expression, the man's serious expression softened and he put a hand on the back of Kili's hand saying something to his nephew in a dismissive air. He then turned from the younger dwarf and climbed into the boat while his nephew stepped away from him almost as if stunned, recoiling from something that had caused him intense pain. She was about to walk up to Kili, when she saw Dori and Ori climbing out of the boat. The elder healer moved towards the younger dwarf and started to inspect his wounds. That is when she was roused from her observation and went to her friend who was looking at the ground as if he had been denied the most important thing of his life. And as she joined the three dwarves and Ori whispered to her that Thorin had prohibited Kili from going as he feared he would slow him down, she realised that her suspicion had not been far off. She resisted the urge from looking at Thorin with her dislike growing exponentially and focused her attention on her dwarven friend who still looked pained. Though she wondered how much his wounds were contributing to his expression. She had been so absorbed with her worry over the prophecy and what Master Bard had revealed to her that she had not realised the deterioration of Kili's health.
She looked over her shoulders when she heard Thorin's voice pipe up: "Fili don't be a fool." She watched as Thorin looked with disapproval at his nephew who was climbing out of the vessel. She looked towards Fili as he stated: "Uncle, do not take this from him. We grew up on tales of the mountain. Tales you told us. You cannot take that away from him." She looked away from Fili and towards Bifur who was looking at her with a heavy expression. She had not talked to her Eremite friend since her return but now he looked upon her undecided, almost as if he was looking at her to make his decision. She did not know what she conveyed in her expression but it caused him to climb out of the vessel and come towards them, putting his arm around their wounded and supporting the elderly Dori with carrying a younger, taller dwarf than him. Her attention was once more diverted to Thorin and Fili's confrontation as the elder dwarf stated: "One day you will be king and then you will understand. I will not risk getting what I want, even for the sake of my own nephews." She saw the younger, fair-haired dwarf smirking at him darkly, suddenly growing resentful and stating: "I know that. Make no mistake." She looked down as she felt shame rise in her and she could feel his resentment of them both radiating from him.
"I belong with my brother." She heard him state in response to Thorin's claim that he belonged with the company. She felt her brows raise in response to the young dwarf's defiance of his uncle, especially when she knew that beside reclaiming their homeland, proving himself to his uncle was his most coveted goal. Fili joined them last but with self-assurance radiating from him.
The music of trumpets rose in the background as did the excited clamour of the crowd, which almost drowned the Master's farewell and success wish. She paid no mind to that, as she was knelt before Kili and was unravelling the piece of cloth she had tied to his leg yesterday morning. She paid no mind to Thorin and her cousin's departure.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked briefly to the side when she heard a familiar jovial voice state: "Oh, you also missed the boat. " to see Bofur standing there with a slightly relieved expression at his assumption that he had not been the only one to arrive late. She took the dressing from Kili's wound carefully and she felt her eyes widen when she saw the inflamed wound on the dwarf's thigh from which black lines departed from in the form of veins. She exhaled shakily and looked up at her dwarven friend who was looking down at her with a worried expression. Seeing the dread in her blue eyes seemed to be too much for him, as she saw his blue eyes roll to the back of his head and he collapsed. Fili supported his brother, exclaiming the name of the unconscious dwarf. Bofur moved quickly towards them, seeing the illness of his kin. Dori stated beside her:" We need to get him somewhere safe."
Fili looked up and stated: "The Master." She pursed her lips in disapproval at the man's name and was just about to protest when the dwarves, supporting the sick moved quickly after the man. The only thing that was left for her to do was to rise and follow them. She watched as their procession reached the man who was moving towards his residence quickly after seeing of the dwarves who would bring them wealth and calling his name repeatedly. Yet the man paid them no mind and she was sure that it had nothing to do with the clamour of the crowd which was slowly dying down as Thorin's vessel could no longer be seen in Esgaroth. She stood with her arms crossed out in front of her chest and a condemning expression as she watched the Master's right-hand-man close the door in front of the dwarves' face with a contemptuous expression on his face, not even paying mind to the dwarves' desperate bids for help.
Disillusioned they came towards her and Bofur stated: "He won't help us." She shook her head with an unamused smirk and stated: "He is not a good man. You thought him to be despite Master Bard's warnings..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened in realisation. As she realised where they could find help and informed the dwarves' of the decision, they moved spurned by Kili's continued deterioration towards the house they had first found refuge in.
They were stood before the blue house door of the man that had first helped them. Laurel stood at the back supporting her friend's form though he towered over her and she needed to keep readjusting so her knees wouldn't buckle from his weight, while Bofur knocked on the bowman's door. It soon opened to reveal the young man's face though as soon as his gaze came to rest on the men his expression contorted with annoyance and contempt and he stated in a resolute tone: "No go away. I am done with dwarves." She could understand the anger and causticity in his voice as he looked upon the individuals whose quest caused his home to face such danger, as he looked upon those who had lied and deceived him. He was just about to close the door when Bofur's voice stated desperately: "No, please. No one will help us. Kili's sick." The man still looked upon them with an unrelenting and unwilling expression and as Kili moaned in pain lowly, despair rose in her and she stated: "Please, Master Bard." Bofur moved slightly to the side so she was stood face to face with the bargeman. He at first looked at her with a similar expression as he had looked upon the dwarves but then seeing her beseeching face, his expression fell and his eyes softened and he let them in.
His condition had worsened. It seemed that as soon as Kili had lied down on Master Bard's bed, his condition had worsened exponentially. Bifur, Fili and Bofur were busy holding Kili down as he contorted in pain and cried out from the plight of his injury while she and Dori were busy examining his wounds. She looked towards the elder dwarf helplessly and stated: "Have you ever seen such a thing." She grew even more nervous when the dwarf shook his head and stated: "I have mostly treated mining wounds during my time, lass. Only once..." His voice trailed off as the dwarf looked down as if trying to remind himself of something. She looked at him expectantly and the dwarf mumbled: "I once read about this dark colouring of the veins in a book about essences and herbs..." She looked down and the inkling of recognition she had felt when she had looked at the arrow that had caused this wound, when she had first seen Kili's wound in the state it was in now, returned to her and she pursed her lips. It was as if she knew the answer to what was causing this abnormal reaction, why Kili's state was so much worse than what would be expected of a flesh wound. She remembered she didn't know why, the time when a guard had stood beside her cell and had rubbed the tip of his arrow with a yellowish foul looking root that had seemed so familiar to her due to its characteristically decayed appearance. She muttered this to Dori and then his eyes alighted in recognition and dread and he rose saying: "We need King's Foil. The arrow was poisoned." She was about to rise with him when he pushed her down and stated: "No, you need to remain here. I'll go with Bofur. You need to supervise his health." She nodded her head appeased.
She knelt once more by Kili's side and passed the cooling wet cloth over his wound, in hopes of keeping it clean as exposed as it was. Then she looked up as Kili started to talk in Khuzdul. She furrowed her brow as she saw him with his eyes screwed shut in pain, and fever talk in their guttural language and repeatedly say 'Dis'. She furrowed her brow and then she cocked her head as she remembered the boys telling her that their mother's name was Dis. Her eyes widened when the dwarf then started saying her name. She rose in alarm and looked down at him flustered, not knowing what to do as he seemed to call her name and talk to her in the language she didn't understand. Ori seeing her disconcert leaned towards her and whispered: "He is calling for you." Her expression softened and she felt a twinge in her heart as she realised the extent of her friend's feelings towards her. She felt his brother looking at her, but not paying mind to him, she leaned down towards the dwarf and brushed his hair from his sweaty forehead. Shushing him, she stated in a warm voice: "I am here. No need to worry."
"I don't know why," Fili's voice accusingly broke the silence. She did not raise her gaze from her sick friend but she was attentive to his words as he stated: "Shouldn't you be with Thorin?" She looked up at him at the sound of the man's name to see him looking at her with angry and hurt eyes at what he perceived was her betrayal of him. She looked at him, disbelievingly and stated in a low voice: "Do you truly believe this is the right time for this conversation?" He looked at her and grew angrier at her slightly patronizing tone and stated: "Yes! I do! I wish to understand why you are here. Why you would delude us? What game you are playing?" She furrowed her brow and stated growing more and more agitated in response to her flustered friend: "There is no game. I thought you knew me better." Fili threw his head back in exasperation and anger and exclaimed: "Stop this! I am no child. I am older than you by more than half a decade. You need not smother me like a child. Tell me that you love my uncle and stop deluding me." Her heart gave a painful lurch and unable to hear his name once more she exclaimed: "He has given me no reason to love him!"
She pursed her lips as her voice rose in volume and looked down at her hands which held the cloth that was now tinged red with blood from Kili's wound and exhaling she shook her head and stated: "I do not wish to talk of this, not now." Before Fili could say anything else, Dori and Bifur arrived with the herb and soon any thought that did not pertain to Kili's treatment escaped their minds.
She exhaled warily as she wiped Kili's forehead, which still glistened with fever, with a fresh wet cloth that Master Bard's eldest daughter had brought her. She looked at the fresh binding on Kili's leg with a small smile. Dori had quickly made the herb into a green salve that he had spread on Kili's leg in hope that it would absorb the poison from his system. Now all they could do was wait with hope that Kili would recover.
Suddenly she felt the heat of eyes on her and she looked up to find Kili smiling down at her with a slightly tortured but still joyed smile. He was observing her through half-closed eyelids and sensing his scrutiny she smiled at him, hoping that none of her worry showed on her expression. She heard him breathe her name and in response, she rose and sat down at the side of his bed. She put her small hands upon his and squeezed it saying in a low voice: "I am here. No worries." He shook his head as his expression fell and he looked at her with a certain amount of disappointment. In a low voice he stated in hurt: "No, it isn't her. It can't be." She furrowed her brow and put her hand on his forehead in worry over his delusional state. He was still feverishly warm, and just as she was about to assure him that it was her he stated: "She is far away from me. At my uncle's side." She looked down at the mention of the man, but was attentive to Kili's words as he stated: "Do you think she could have loved me. If it had not been for Thorin, do you think she would have?"
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and cursed herself inwardly for the complication, for all the difficulty her feelings had caused. She shook her head as she was reminded of Thorin's whispered words to her in the dark of Thandruil's cell. She looked back towards Kili to see that he had once more fallen unconscious. She tired to put these thoughts from her mind and rose.
She quickly exited Master Bard's chamber with the bucket she had used to drench the cloth she had used on Kili clutched tightly in her hand. She looked at the table in the main hall to see Fili sitting at the table and drinking some mead. At her entry he looked up at her with a tired and dark gaze. She forgot the confrontation between them and smiled a reassuring smile at him. She whispered 'He rests' perceiving Fili's worry over his brother. He nodded sharply at her and appeased she moved past him and towards the window to throw out the dirty water.
The bucket almost slipped out of her hands when her grips faltered in shock as she heard a venomous hiss behind her. 'Witch' the word that was stated with so much deprecation, resonated in her mind and disillusioned she looked towards the fair-haired dwarf. The dwarf who had been so kind and welcoming to her when she had joined the company. The dwarf she had doubted would have ever been able to speak to her in so much resentment.
He was looking at her with a malicious smirk and said: „You must be. It can not be different. You cast a curse over every Durin's son."
In response to his words, she shook her head angrily and not deeming his statement worthy of a response, she put the bucket down with a loud 'thud' and breathed past him. She opened the entrance door and stepped out into the cold night air. Putting her hand around her form, she sat herself down on the top most stair that led to Master Bard's house.
She started crying. It would have shamed her to see herself crying so heart-brokenly, tear after tear unstoppably escaping her eyes, over a simple name that she had been called. Still she cried. Releasing every tear that had been pent-up within her for so long. Finally venting her pain and all the heartache she had experienced on this journey where she had suffered so much. Even when she heard footsteps behind her did she not wipe away her tears. She looked over her shoulders, sniffling pathetically to find Bifur coming towards her. With a trembling hand she wiped away the fluid from her tear-stained cheeks as he sat down beside her.
The dwarf with the axe in his head looked at her with a sad smile and she realized that she had not spent a moment in his company since she had returned from her captivity. She looked down as she felt a certain amount of guilt at having disregarded the one dwarf who had been a friend and comfort to her when all had abandoned her in favour of their preconceived ideas of her. She felt guilt as she realised that she had ignored the one individual who had not forsaken her when he had found out that she was part of the race he disliked and who had preferred to judge her by who she was than what she was. She felt guilt at having abandoned him in favour of Thorin.
Looking down she stated: „I have disregarded you, my friend."She started wringing her hands nervously and in a low whisper she stated: „Perhaps it is better. I am not the same carefree girl who came to the lonely reticent eremite and offered him her company. I am not her."In his calloused hand, she felt him taking her hand and tenderly grasping her chin and with a fatherly expression, something that had been denied to her for a ll her life, he gestured his disagreement with her statement. She smiled watery at him and said in a low whisper: „I am grateful that you wish to comfort me, but I am not her and by the Valar do I wish that I could return to her."
Despite her shame at crying in front of others, even in front of Bilbo at times, she started sobbing in front of this man who wished to offer her fatherly comfort. He enveloped her in his arms, like she was his daughter who had scraped her knee. She hid her head on his should and sobbingly, continuously asked him what she had to do to go back to her. He sighed and she took comfort in the warmth of his embrace and the smell of ash that radiated from him.
Eventually, she did not know how much time had passes, she became calmer and looked up at the full moon above her, still clinging onto Bifur as if he were her lifeline. Her ear twitched when she heard the faint fluttering of wings, in the distance. The sound was so sudden in its appearance that it caught her off-guard and as soon as she had caught herself the sound of a tornado came upon them. It sounded familiar, but not in a comforting, homey manner. But one that raced cold shivers of dread down her spine. She looked up to see Bifur looking at her questioningly, but then her gaze rose higher even as a shadow fell upon them. She was met with the sight of a roof of silvery dragon scales replacing the starry sky.
Fear crept into her heart and she said in a low whisper: „They have woken Smaug."
AN- Not much to say, except tell me what you thought. (in my best smaug Imitation) don't be shy