Chapter 9: Stories of Old
For the first night, they have found their camp under an overhanging of stone in the side of a small cliff. There is open space and shrubbery as well, which their ponies have been tied to for the night. After Edyth finishes slicing everything Bombur gives her, she is given freedom for the rest of the night to relax and see to as she pleases.
She has to look around for her pack which she initially dumped to the side until she could figure out her place amongst the camp, but someone had moved it. Hers is relatively easy to identify amongst the sixteen bags, unless you consider Bilbo's but his is lain by his already spread bedroll.
A small drop of relief disperses through her veins, finding it near Balin, only a few meters away from the princely brothers. Falling to her knees, Edyth begins unravelling her bedroll which has not been used in quite a few years. As it unfurls, the ends stay curling upwards slightly, but they would flatten overnight anyway.
Most of the Dwarves mingle in small groups, almost the same ones she had observed throughout the day. A quick glance to her left shows her Kili fiddling with his bow and Fili placing his larger weapons to the side of his own roll. Edyth's hand moves to her waistband where the small dagger has been concealed since that morning.
For a while Edyth stays on her bedroll, fumbling around with the skin around her nails but the urge to make conversation pushes her to finally make her way over to the brothers. "I don't think I've met a Dwarf who likes using a bow," she notes to Kili. "Or anybody in general who carries as many blades as you do," she adds to Fili.
The brothers laugh softy, the sound being warm to her ears. Edyth can't explain her draw to the pair. Perhaps it is their relative similarity in age or their general characters. But there is definitely something about them that causes her to want to be there instead of with her brother or even Balin.
"How many Dwarves have you actually met?" Kili probes.
"Enough," she snips back with a mirthful smile. "I'd see them in the tavern all the time."
Kili gives her a toothy smile as he leans back against the rocky wall next to his brother. "Not many do but I found one when I was about ten years old-"
"And he hasn't stopped since," Fili finishes, pointing to her with the tip of a curved knife for emphasis. "It's a good thing too you didn't know him when he was younger. Had quite a few accidents when it came to shooting, didn't you?" This time the older brother tosses a teasing grin over his shoulder to Kili who rolls his eyes through an affectionate smile. "He shot Thorin in the hand once."
Edyth sucks her lips to hold her threatening laughter as Thorin sat close by, no doubt in hearing range. Kili clicks his tongue, leaning forward. "Mother almost sent me to live with the pigs for that one."
"Probably would have accidentally shot them as well," Fili grumbles. His dropped face pulls back up however as Kili punches his shoulder. Edyth also cannot help but smile at their brotherly banter. It is charming and rather adorable to watch. After the pair settle, Fili turns his attention back to the quiet Hobbit. "How's Ginger going for you?"
"Good," she replies. "He's nice and calm, easy to ride."
Fili nods in approval, picking up a loose stick and begins whittling his knife against it. "That's good. Kee picked him out for you since he knows them pretty well."
Edyth glances over to Kili who only watches his brother's whittling as well. "If I let the others pick first, you'd probably have been stuck with Fiddle. She's a right down pain. Bit Bofur on the leg twice today."
"I suppose I should thank you. Again." Kili nods his head to her as he places his bow and quiver to the side. Edyth twists her lips. Shuffling against her spot on the hard ground. "This may be an odd question, but I've only heard Bifur speaking what I'm assuming is your language. I was under the impression that you never spoke it in front of other races."
"Not usually, no," Fili agrees. "Notice the axe in his head?" Edyth nods. She has indeed noticed the oddity of the metal in the Dwarf's head. "Lost his ability to speak anything else."
"Makes sense," she mutters. Everybody around them has begun to fall into their rolls, many already asleep. "I should probably head to sleep."
"You can bring your stuff over here if you want." Edyth's head snaps towards Fili who is offering her a kind and gentle smile that suits his face well. "Balin snores and we won't bite."
"Not hard, anyway," Kili adds. As he catches her eyes, he winks, settling even further back into the wall. Edyth swallows the knot growing in her throat.
"I'm going to ignore that," she decides aloud. "But I will take you up on that offer."
Scrambling back over to her belongings, she bundles them up in her arms half-clumsily but manageable and prances back over to her spot. Straightening out the thick blanket on the bedroll, Edyth tucks her legs into it but remains sitting upwards, facing the clear view opposite.
"Once we pass Bree, that will be the furthest I've ever been from home," she muses aloud, more so to herself than her companions.
"Bree's only about four days away," Kili grunts. "You Hobbit's really don't travel much, do you?"
"Some consider travelling to the other side of the Shire a holiday trip," she snorts. "Most don't get to see the world and for a while I was terrified I was going to be one of them."
"No wonder you were so eager to help us," Kili says.
Edyth rolls her eyes gently, giving him a fond smile. "Yes and no. I wouldn't have agreed if I didn't think I should help you but yes, this is also a chance for me."
Their conversation seems to drop off there, which is fitting as the rest of the camp laid their heads down, a snore or two filling the cool night air. Even Thorin, who is lying across a stone has his eyes closed.
Edyth sinks further into her roll, facing the brothers. They continue to stay up, whispering amongst themselves. Now that she is lying here, the displacement of her position creates an uncomfortable itch that no amount of scratching will disperse. She should be over with her brother. Bilbo, no doubt, is still wide awake and uneased about the day.
After maybe half an hour or so, Edyth sits back up, intending on moving her belongings to sleep next to her brother for his comfort (and quite possibly her own, not that she will admit that). But Bilbo is not at his bedroll. One quick scan of the camp places him over near the ponies, with Myrtle, his already beloved beast.
Piercing the still night is a shrill that sends goosebumps up her arms and down her spine. It sounds animalistic, unnatural and agony filled. Edyth's hunched back straightens, fingers dancing around the dagger at her waistband and her eyes immediately darting to Fili and Kili. But the brothers barely jolted.
Bilbo comes prancing back into the centre of camp wearing the same face she imagines on herself. "What was that?" At least she is not the only one concerned about what is nearby.
Kili glances up. "Orcs," he answers solemnly.
Edyth double-takes him, not sure whether to shrink further into her bedroll to escape or push her legs out of it so they are free to run. "Orcs?" the Hobbit siblings repeat. A movement to the side of her vision lets her know that the movements and sound have awakened their leader who likely wasn't in a deep sleep in the first place.
"Throat cutters," Fili adds. "There'd be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."
Edyth's heart is in her throat, thumping madly against its walls. Now she most definitely pulls her legs out of her bedroll. How is she supposed to get sleep at night now? Fili sees her movement and tips his head to the side. Edyth's face is pale and starting to become clammy so Fili gives her a subtle wink. Her brows burrow, not sure why he'd be winking at her through such a moment.
"They strike, in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep," Kili continues, the shadows of the dying fire casting shadows over his face, the hairs of his fringe like the dark legs of spiders. "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."
The tone of his voice sends her almost drowning in relief. Storytellers. And terrible ones at that. Edyth punches Fili's leg with her knuckles, giving her brother a concerned once over. Bilbo is more petrified that a baby owl. Fili softly nudges her back, holding his smirk.
"They're teasing, Bilbo," she calls to him. The brothers fall into soft laughter as Bilbo's face drops, not sure who to believe. Kili leans forward to glare at her past his brother's body.
"Spoilsport," he grunts, albeit through a smile. Edyth tips her own head forward in a playful warning. It seems nothing is serious when it comes to this pair.
Thorin stalks in front of them, passing through camp. "You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"
Kili bows his head, clearly affected by Thorin's scolding. Even in this short time, Edyth has seen many moments to show Kili's dedication to his uncle. Everything from arriving in Bag End and stepping forward to take his coat, to making sure Thorin is content with the camp before Kili even sat down for dinner.
"We didn't mean anything by it," he whispers.
It physically pains her to see him upset, but not yet is she comfortable enough to provide him with any sort of comfort.
"No. You didn't." Thorin eyes off his nephews with a stony glare, one that would make her toes shake if it was directed at her. "You know nothing of the world." Their leader stalks off once more, this time to the far side of the camp near the ponies, pensive and cold. Edyth drags her eyes off of him and tilts her head towards the ground but watches the brothers from the corner of her eye. What could she say?
Her desire to comfort is fulfilled by another. "Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs." Edyth pulls her head back up, caught by Balin's words. Bilbo and the brothers as well become intrigued, shifting gazes between Thorin and Balin. "After the Dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first."
"Orcs?" Edyth guesses aloud. Balin nods solemnly. She swallows the ball in her throat, looking over her shoulder towards the brothers. They appear to be fresh to this information as well.
"Orcs indeed Miss Baggins. And they were led by the most vile of all their race, Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King."
The ball in her throat rises again. Thror was Thorin's grandfather if she remembers correctly. Thrain's father. The closest thing she has seen to bloodshed is a poor goat that was run over by a horse-driven cart. Blood had spilled on the road; her feet had been locked in place, watching it drip slowly through the grooves of gravel. That memory has stayed with her.
"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing; taken prisoner or killed, we did not know." Balin voices quakes slightly as he speaks, and a good observation informs Edyth that he was likely there that day. He certainly fits the age requirement. "We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him. A young Dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc."
Edyth looks back to Thorin once again, trying to create the image of a warrior in her mind. It is no wonder Kili looks up to him so much.
"He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armour rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield." Oakenshield, she realises. "Azog the Defiler learned that day, that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated, but there was no feast, nor song that night for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few, had survived."
Edyth takes a long draw of air, becoming overly aware of the water filling her eyes but they do not fall down her cheeks.
"And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow, there is one I could call King."
The entire company has now risen from their rolls, standing in both respect and awe at their leader. Edyth stays on the ground, her chin held low. Balin's story will not change her view that Thorin is an arrogant, stubborn…Dwarf. But she will admit that he is a King, no less, and a strong leader. It reaffirms her decision to come; something she probably has needed. She can respect him, but that doesn't mean she has to get along with him.
"And the Pale Orc?" Bilbo questions. At some point he had sat back down, listening just as intently to the story as Edyth. "What happened to him?"
Thorin marches back through the company. "He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago." Edyth has no idea what to say – if she should say anything at all. Her mind keeps running over something she could say to him – to show her respect, her understanding. Though she really hasn't got an understanding of what he has been through at all.
But she spends so long doing so that when she finally breaks from the mind-map, the majority of the company have already fallen back to sleep, including Thorin on the outskirts. Sighing, Edyth crawls back into her own, laying her head down on the small, cushioned top.
There is another howl in the distance, sounding like a wolf. And to that sound, she falls asleep.