I hope there are no typos! I wrote this on a little in a rush... Enjoy!
The night after, dining Hall, right before dinner time...
Thorin, Fìli and Kìli have been together all day. Thorin wanted to introduce his nephews to some questions of the utmost importance at Erebor - the rebuilding of the forges, in particular - and also because he didn't want them to interfere with Balin's plan - whatever Balin had in mind, anyway.
Thorin was sure that, without the the two young Dwarves looming around - especially a certain blond one - Balin could get more information about this Inneg.
Balin's considerations were his own. Inneg was not Elf, but was hardly a woman daughter of Men either. However, if she really belonged to some powerful and noble house, it was better to have more information about her before letting anyone know that she was at Erebor.
Even if preventing voices and gossips from spreading was already a lost hope, after Fìli had invited her to sit next to him at dinner last night. All the Dwarves and Dwarrowdams had seen them, and Thorin believed such a tale had already reached Esgaroth.
Thorin hand't scolded Fìli as he had wished - if for not inviting a Dwarrowdam form Erebor or for inviting precisely Inneg, he had no idea. However, Fìli had brought himself some time, 'and it is still true that Inneg has saved his life', had pondered the King Under the Mountain, walking in the dining Hall with Dwalin at his side.
As soon as they stepped in the Hall, they heard high-pitched cries of surprise and disbelief.
"No way!" "It's truly you?"
In front of the King's table, Fìli and Kìli were circling around a figure Thorin didn't immediately recognise. But when he did, he was left... well... slightly baffled.
"What it is his masquerade?" he asked nearing the group, but his tone was more curious and puzzled than annoyed.
Holding Inneg's hand with great chivalry, Balin chuckled at the King's surprise. "Hello Thorin!" he greeted. "Inneg and I have been doing shopping today, and we found a few things the lass rather liked. I thought she could have worn these for dinner, right Inneg?"
Inneg smile faltered a little when she saw Thorin advancing, staring her with his usual scowl. However, unlike the day before, she didn't stiffen, and wasn't nearly as fazed as the other times. Instead, she made a small curtesy, and then tilted her head, with a small smirk, seeming rather amused at the King's disconcerted eyes,
travelling over her from head to toe. And, to Thorin personal opinion, she looked way too amused.
Dwalin was gaping at Inneg and his brother, pretty much with the same expression that was plastered on Fìli and Kìli face. "You two have been doing... what?"
For the split of a second, Thorin felt convinced that Balin had gone mad. But a moment later, the King Under the Mountain smirked. "You like this clothes, Inneg?"
Inneg raised an eyebrow at the subtle, slightly amused tone of the King. She nodded slowly, studying his face so blatantly that, hand't been for the extraordinary situation, Thorin would have openly reprimanded her.
Yes, Inneg wished she could have said, she had chosen those clothes by herself, and she liked them. They were comfortable, what was wrong with that? The ones she had worn the nights before were gorgeous, but she preferred those, had the King anything against that? By the way, she felt much much better than the days before, thank you very much!
Thorin seemed to read all those things in her eyes, and made a small nod of aknowledgment. If Inneg had truly chosen by herself those clothes, well, that was putting the young woman in a whole new light.
For all this time, Fìli and Kìli had circled around her - joined by Dwalin. All of them were slightly frowning, unsure of what to think or what to do. Not that there was much to be done.
"Stop looking at her that way, you three!" laughed Balin, who was hardly containing his amusement. "It's not like you have never seen anyone wearing trousers!"
Because that was what Inneg was wearing. Black trousers, the one worn by travellers. Nothing anyone living in Erebor would wear - damn, anything a woman would wear. And she had tall booths, fixed with leathered straps, so that they were adhering to her calves and ankles. Above she was sporting a plain tunic, also black, with longs sleeves and a hood. And her hair, who Thorin had always seen styled in the way of the Dwarves, were collected in a simple braid, falling on her chest, and it was completely covering the cut part of her ears.
It was a huge change from the elegant gowns and dresses she had been wearing the previous days.
But probably the thing that had most changed, was her attitude. The slight dullness present in her eyes was gone, and the shyness and composure of her movements had left space to confidence, and a certain boldness, that, hadn't he be inside his Halls, would have made the King Under the Mountain at least wary.
Once again, Inneg looked to him like a wild beast, that was now free of her cage, lazily stretching her muscle and extending its claws. 'The change of clothes itself is notable, and yet, the biggest change is in her attitude... What had happened?'
'She looked comfortable in the gowns of previous nights, but she's wearing these clothes like they were a second skin', and that meant, Thorin realised with wonder, that it was what she was used to wear normally. thought again the King, as Fìli, Kìli and Dwalin were still busy studying Inneg's attire.
The smirk under his beard widened. Seemed like Inneg was not a princess or a noble. He noted to himself to praise Balin's for his cleverness, weighting the girl up with his eyes, rather pleased of the results of Balin's experiment. "Well, seems like you feel better in trousers than in gowns, Inneg." Was his only comment.
But if the King Under the Mountain was pleased, another Dwarf was very little. Fìli hadn't recognised Inneg not until she was in front of him and Kìli, and by when Thorin and Dwalin had reached them, he had already asked Balin three times if truly Inneg had chosen those clothes by herself, and to Inneg if she really liked those.
Inneg's smile was broad and bright, and she had wiggled her legs and feet, probably proud of her booths. The contrast with the previous nights was so staggering, that Fìli and Kìli had no idea what to think of the girl with the golden hair now.
"She is dressed more like us when we were about to conquer Erebor!" Had observed Kìli. "just without weapons!"
Somehow, Fìli didn't find hard to imagine Inneg wearing a sword, or a knife, or maybe both - before remembering that she had the very same calluses of an archer. 'So, bow and arrows, sword and knife, and then what?'
Not that she looked less beautiful to his eyes. Her hair were still glowing in the lights of the Dwarvish lamp, and her eyes were glinting, more alive than ever, and if Fìli hand't be in the dining Hall, he wouldn't have found any good reason to pull himself from admiring the hundred green and blue shades quivering in her gaze.
But Inneg had lost ht vulnerability that had made the prince so keen to protect her and keep her at his side - well, he wanted to keep her at his side, but the girl that was in front of him was a different creature form the one of the night before. Or it was the same, but it had finally bloomed, like her name, 'Inneg', meant.
Around them, Fìli could hear the Dwarves and the Dwarrowdams whispering. The gag of females that had been around Erebor, causally crossing Fìli and Kìli path at least six times, was giggling and pointing to inner with their ringer fingers.
Well, there was very little they could do. Inneg was beautiful even if dressed like a Ranger of the North!
On her side, Inneg wasn't paying any attention on the other not-so-nice, elegant, short women that night. She was hearing them talking and giggling, but her attire was strangely giving her so much confidence, that we wasn't minding their comments. But the lightbringer and his brother had been very surprised to see her like that! Didn't they like her? Why was the lightbringer keeping asking her if she liked those clothes? Didn't he liked her with those? Oh well, if the very short, fierce woman was around, maybe they could go to her and ask her for another coloured, elegant dress?
"Oh no, Thorin, I think Ori wants to chat a little with her about some passages of his journal. She is going to sit with the others for tonight. Isn't it, lass?" Balin was saying. "You have said you would have been happy to listen to Ori adventure, right?"
Inneg nodded sleepishly, glancing at Fìli somehow with a guilty look. But it was true. And she was not sure she wanted to dine again next to the King of the short, nice men. He was not so nice. Even if now he was smiling at her, she continued to feel he was not liking her at all.
So, Inneg nodded to Balin, searching with her eyes the table where Ori and his brothers were sitting. When she saw them - actually she spotted Bombur first, sat in between his brother and Bifur - she waved happily.
"No way, we want her to sit with us!" protested Kìli and Fìli.
Balin snorted when he saw the pout on Fìli and Kìli's faces. "Nonsense! Let the poor lass relax for a night!" he smiled to Inneg, who bowed apologetically again - especially to the lightbringer, who seemed very unhappy that she was sitting with the other kind short men. " Come on, girl, go and join the others! Or Bombur will eat also your part!"
Inneg snorted. A laugh with no sound, but the joke was nice. She liked the very old, short man, he was very kind and understanding, and funny. She rushed to where the other Dwarves were sitting, with the golden braid bouncing behind her.
"Mother is more cheerful when she is around!" grunted Kìli.
Fìli looked with envy as Ori made some space for Inneg in between him and his brother Dori, and Nori was giving her a plate full of meat and potatoes. Bofur winked and said something about her new attire that made her laugh again, and he felt another stung of jealously.
The fact that his uncle was muttering to him to stop staring at her, and the Dwarrowdams whispering even more than before, were not not helping.
Why had Inneg to sit with someone else? He wanted her to be next to him that night as well! He hadn't seen her the whole day!
"Don't sweat it, Fìli!" laughed Balin. "You will find her after dinner! It's not like Bombur is going to eat her!"
Balin was sitting in between Thorin and Dwalin. Dìs was dining with some nobles at a nearby table, and at the other side of the King there were Fìli and Kìli.
The evening was quiet, and the soft chatting of the Dwarves at their tables was a background sound to the knifes and forks hitting the plates.
Thorin and Balin have been discussing about the forges again, and Fìli and Kìli had breathed in relief when they hadn't been involved int he conversation. That day talking about the possible modification and reorganisation, and the advantages of the forges of Daìn Ironfoot in the Iron Hills, had make them so sick that, if someone asked him anything more about the topic, Kìli was going to start screaming.
Fìli had been lucky enough to sit from where he could see Inneg. She was sitting facing the King's table, and from time to time she was lifting her gaze, and smiling at him. She felt sorry she couldn't stay next to the lightbringer. She hoped they could spend some time together the next day. Oh, but wasn't the thing the young, short man was reading her entertaining?
Balin introduced the topic of Inneg only when dinner was almost over.
"About Inneg, Thorin." started Balin, looking over at the table were she was listening to Dori and Bofur and Oìn discussing something in between themselves. "We had a very interesting day. There are a few things you might find... worth of our attention."
"Well then." Thorin grimaced, glancing in Inneg direction. From behind him, Fìli and Kìli peeped, listening carefully to Balin. "Those clothes..."
"I will get to that in a moment. There are more curious things."
"What have you found about her, brother? Has she spoken to you?" asked Dwalin, who was halfway through his second steak of the evening.
"Speak? Oh no, nothing of the sort." Balin shook his head. "But Inneg sure knows how to speak. I guess she is still too confused to utter a word. However, her actions have spoken more eloquently than her words, today."
"What do you mean?" asked coldly Thorin, glancing again at the girl. She had just dodged a piece of food that Bofur had thrown to Dori, and was at the same time trying to listen to something that Ori was telling her.
"Before telling you about our day, let me say just one thing." Balin cleared his throat. "I have taken a stroll with the lass because I hoped that, thought she is not speaking, she might react to something that is familiar to her. It was a rather productive walk."
"We went to the stables first," continued Balin, "and I can tell the lass is not familiar to ponies. She must have never seen one, judging by the way she was eyeballing the poor animals."
"She is not from Rohan, then." murmured Thorin. "Ponies are used there."
"Exactly!" exclaimed Balin. "I thought the very same. But after the first moments of fear, she went to the them, and the ponies were very happy to be caressed by her. They all seemed to like Inneg, with no exception, so I guess she knows how to treat animals." Balin shrugged. "I thought it was not much, but at least, we will not bother the Lord of the Mark, asking if a girl with the golden hair had been missing lately."
Balin sipped his beer. "We went to the market then. I took her to the map makers shops and workshops. Don't look at me like that!" Grunted Balin, seeing the dubious stare of the other Dwarves. "She must come from somewhere! So, I pretended I had to go an a journey, and I started taking out maps from all Middle Earth, mentioning all the countries and mountains, and hills and woods..."
"And you found where she comes from?" Asked Kìli impatiently. "No, I didn't. But Inneg knows how to read."
"She what?" Hissed Thorin.
"Never I know how to read." Grunted Dwalin.
"How did you find out?" Asked Fìli. Reading was not very common among Men, as far as he knew.
Balin shrugged again. "Mere casualty. I was looking for the Blue Mountains on a map, and she pointed it to me. The name." said pointedly Balin. "She probably didn't know where they were, but seeing the words on the map, she pointed them out to me."
"She can read Dwarvish?" Hissed Thorin again. His head snapped towards Inneg's table again, and he found her very intent listening to Ori.
"Dwarfish, the language of the Men, and Elvish." "Elvish?" Cried Fìli.
"Shh! Do not make yourself heard!" Balin silenced the prince with a stern look. "Inneg is afraid of the Elves." He added in a low voice. "I mentioned her Mirkwood, and Rivendell, and I said that Elves lived there, and the poor lass almost fainted! It took to me half an hour to make her stop trembling!"
Kìli and Fìli exchanged a glance. Inneg could read Elvish, had the point of ears cut, and was scared of the Elves?
"It makes no sense." Murmured Fìli.
Balin nodded. "I agree. But here what I have observed. Despite being probably part Elvish, she is scared as hell of Elves!"
"But she can read bloody Elvish!" Thorin was not one for cursing, but first, his sister was not there to reprimand him, second, the situation highly called for a good swearing. Reading Elvish, being an Elf, it made little difference to him.
"I know you were going to object." Balin knew that 'object' was a poor word for the glower Thorin had just thrown to Inneg, but it was beyond the point. "Many know Elvish without being related with he Elves."
"She knows Dwarvish! Not even I know Dwarvish..." muttered Dwlain again. That Inneg knew Elvish meant little to him. But knowing how to read bloody Dwarvish!
The old Dwarf sighed. "It is not the right moment to judge. Thorin, stop looking at her that way! She might know Elvish, but still, she is scared of them."
"It makes no sense!" Tried again Fìli. Damn, if his uncle had let him go with Balin and Inneg, surely she might have told him what was going on, and why she was so afraid of the Elves! Besides, he didn't like the fact that Balin had scared her.
"Ah, it makes much sense to me!" Grunted Balin, turning sharply to the prince, and keeping his voice as low as possible. "Ask a Dwarf to choose in between cutting his beard and talk to an Elf, and see what answer you will get! I could give you' a hundred reasons - a hundred very good reasons, mind! - to stay away from Mirkwood and King Thranduil!"
But that was far from enough for Fìli. His gaze went again at Inneg. She was staring intently at Ori, who was reciting part of his journal to her. Her eyes flickered for a moment toward him, and she smiled. So bright was her smile, that Fìli couldn't help but smile in return. However, the idea of Inneg being truly part of was grieving his chest. What was going to happen when she was going to be back to her senses? What if the Elves came to take her away? Or forbade her to come back to Erebor? Even worse, what if she didn't want to come back anymore?
A jab from his Uncle brought back him to the King's table.
"At the clothes stalls, I told her if there was something of her liking." Was saying Balin. "And, can you believe it, Inneg went straight for... well, what she is wearing now." Balin chuckled. "I hoped we might eventually recognise when she comes from from the attire of her clothes but... But that is a weird combination between a Ranger, an Elf, and a Man. Far from the usual clothing of a maid, in any case."
"She has chosen that to wear by herself?" asked Kìli amazed, tilting his head. He liked Inneg wearing those clothes. She looked more and more like a fun girl, though. Way better than the crows following him and his brother around.
"That's what she is used to wear, then." added Fìli, glancing towards Inneg.
Balin nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, so it seems. But is not all." the old Dwarf lowered his voice, to the point that the others had to lean over the table to hear him. "We went to the armourers' stalls after that."
"Are you crazy!" hissed Thorin angrily. "A woman we have no idea who she is or what she wants! Have you even-" "Hush, Thorin. I knew what I was doing. And the lass is still too confused and weak to attempt anything."
Fìli and Kìli had sprung from their sits and were each one leaning over Balin's chairback. "You brought her to see weapons?" "Did she recognised any?"
"Actually, we were merely passing, by, I hadn't even thought about stopping there... But Inneg stopped, and believe me when I say, that it would be easier to say what
arms she did not recognise." muttered Balin, shaking his head. "I asked her to hold a sword for me..."
"You gave her a sword?" Thorin gritted his teeth. "Have you lost your sense in the way back from the Iron Hills?"
"For your first question, yes I did. For the second, no, I didn't." huffed the old Dwarf, "And I found out is that Inneg surely knows how to hold a sword. We spent an hour around the bows, before you ask me!"
Balin spoke gravelly. "The body has a memory on its own. The hands can often remember what the mind can't. Inneg might have forgotten who she is and were she comes from, but her hands do remember very well how to unsheathe a sword."
"She knows how to fight, then." Dwalin swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. "That was a nice trick, brother."
Fìli and Kìli looked at each other. The image of the defenceless damisel in distress they had draw in their mind was being torn apart, and the image of a mighty warrior was taking its place. But still, Inneg looked more like a gentle woman, very beautiful and a little lost, but surely...
"Did you tested her?" asked Fìli in a breath.
Balin shook his head. "I didn't go so far. But Dwalin, maybe you might test her abilities one of these days. I trust your strength more than mine."
"With pleasure brother." Dwalin chuckled. "I like the lass, she looks thougher than we thought at the beginning."
The Dwarves didn't say anything, but looked at each other, and then searched Inneg in the crowd. She was laughing at Oin, who was heavily scolding Ori for some reason that she was finding quite amusing.
Finally Fìli found the courage to say out loud the question that was burning in the back of his tongue. "Balin, do you think she is an Elf?"
"She is no Elf, Fìli. We have seen them in Mirkwood, and then in battle. I wouldn't say she is part of the Elves of the Wood."
That sole sentence lifted an enormous weight from Fìli's chest, he hadn't realised he had.
Thorin studied Inneg with great care once more. "Something of her reminds me of the Elvenkind, still."
Fìli's forehead was drawn with deep lines. "She might be related to the Elves?"
"Elves do not relate themselves with other races in the Middle Earth." stated Thorin in a whisper. "She is human. She must be. Of the Dunedain, maybe. But human."
"As I have already told you, this is a question we can't answer now, Thorin." Balin murmured. "The Elven kind has been close to Mordor in the past Eras, and those who had, had degraded and died in the end, but... I don't perceive any darkness inside Inneg. We know what darkness feels like, and Inneg has nothing to do with it." Balin took a deep breath. "We all have crossed the Necromancer lands. We know what true darkness feels like."
Kìli shivered. The wound on his thigh, now healed, suddenly felt fresh and aching. Fìli's chest closed and he felt himself lose all heart and hope, at the memory of the horrible creatures the Necromancer had rose from the horrible depths the the earth. Even Dwalin felt his muscles prickle in fear.
Thorin Oakenshield, who had faced a dragon, Azog, and the sly power of the Arkenstone, shook his head. "She bears no dark force with her, I can grant you that. Otherwise the Orcs wouldn't have kept her as a prisoner."
"Let us drop this topic for now. Anything we are going to think might be true or false. Better to wait until she regains back her memory." stated Balin, well decided not to ruin his digestion with such thoughts. He was an old Dwarf, he had to be careful of his well-being!
"Let me tell you something more!" He said again, sipping his wine, and letting out a small burp. "We went to see Dori after that!"
We might have not mentioned it yet, but Dori was one of the most famous and appreciated goldsmith of all Erebor, apart form a wine connoisseur. His secrets
were envied in the whole mountain, and there was no one able as him to work with mithril.
"Dori let her roam a little in his workshop. I have to say he is rather fond of her!" Balin chuckled. "Guess what did she like the most?"
"Mithril." breathed Fìli, without a doubt.
Balin nodded solemnly. "Yes, mithril. She passed close to all the beautiful gems and jewels Dori was working on, but she stopped in front of a small ring of mithril."
Dwalin shrugged. "Everyone likes mithril. There is nothing more beautiful in the whole Middle Earth."
Thorin grimaced. Another very Elvish-trait of Inneg he was not liking.
"True brother!" Balin laughed. "However, I will surprise you now! There was something that she liked even more that mithril!"
Balin looked amused at the Dwarves pending from his lips. "That would be music, lads!"
Thorin lifted an eyebrow. "Music?"
"Yes, music." Balin sipped his wine. "In one of the rooms of Dori's workshop, Ori was playing one of our ancient harps. He doesn't even know who to play, he was merely touching the strings without really knowing what was going to be the outcome."
Balin chuckled, and burped. "Oh, but as soon as we heard him, Inneg stormed out of the room, duped me and Dori, and went sitting next to Ori. The poor lad was all red! It took to me a good hour just to convince her to leave! She was absolutely bewitched, beguiled, enchanted..."
Kìli snorted, imagining Ori with a woman gaping at him. It was funny.
On the other hand, Fìli smirked and stored that information in his mind. Music, uh- uh? Again, he was not pleased he hand't found it himself, but contrary to Ori, Fìli knew how to play an harp!
"Music?" Dwalin clicked his tongue. "I liked better the part when she was holding a sword."
Balin shrugged. "It is what it is, brother. She was attracted by the sound of the harp way more than any gem or metal or weapon. I wonder what-" Balin was stopped halfway when Thorin lightly patted his arm. The King pointed with his chin Inneg, who was coming to their table, accompanied by a very concerned looking Ori, holding her by the hand.
Fìli immediately raised, and resisted the urge to rush over her.
Inneg's eyes were shot open, and she was staring at Ori with horror an amazement, and her breast was moving fast, as if she was short of breath. Inneg didn't even seemed to realised she had been conducted in front of the King's table.
"Excuse me," said Ori with a bow, before anyone could speak. "I think you should see this."
And then, Ori turned to Inneg, and they all saw that he was holding a few pages in his hands. Innge looked at him with the same eyes of someone who is fearing terrible news. Her eyes were glassy, and Fìli saw a few tears already dotting her cheeks.
Ori cleared her throat, clearly worried, and glanced one look at the King, before starting to read. "'We have arrived at the place, were Gandalf came to meet us'"
At the name of Gandalf, Inneg gasped, and put her hand to her mouth. More tears escaped her eyes, and she wiggled roughly Ori's hand, as if asking him to repeat. Which he did. "'We have arrived at the place, were Gandalf came to meet us'"
The same gasp, another wiggle.
"'We have arrived at the place, were Gandalf came to meet us'"
Inneg had paled so much that Fìli couldn't resist anymore. "Stop it!" He hissed angrily to Ori, but before he could make a step towards Inneg, Thorin blocked him.
The King Under the Mountain was staring at Inneg with eyes so cold that he might have frozen her. "Do you know Gandalf?"
Thorin had tried to kept his voice under control, but it was tense. A tension Inneg perceived all too well, and started to cry even more.
Even Dwalin was eyeing Inneg now with a stupefied, alerted gaze. Did the lass knew Gandalf?
"Do you know Gandalf the Grey?" Asked again the King.
Inneg let out a strangled cry. Her voice sounded more like the one of an animal than the one of a human, and her eyes were fixed in an expression of horror on the King Under the Mountain.
Behind Fìli, Kìli had no idea what to do. Inneg was trembling and seemed ready to faint. He touched Balin on the shoulder, hoping that the old Dwarf might do something - anything was going to be better than what his uncle was doing!
Balin, who was astonished himself, and left unsure on what to do, cleared his throat. "Lass, do you know Gandalf the Grey?" He asked, with the most gentle tone he could muster. "Do you know Mithrandir?"
At that, Inneg fell on her knees, and bursted into tears.
The Orcs had almost reached her. Their heavy steps were stomping on the ground, the sound of their horns was deafening her, and their nauseating smell was impregnating the air.
She heard them screaming in their hideous language, and she knew she had been seen, and they were after her. She had to run faster.
But she was tired, and the Orcs were fresh and strong. The Wargs they mounted were running at a speed she couldn't hope to equal.
How long had she been running? Where were her bow and arrows? And her cloak? Where was her cloak?
If only she had her cloak, maybe...
She stumbled upon a log, fell down, scratching palms and knees, but stood up, and moved on.
She must escape, she had to escape, but she was tired, so tired... She had been running for so long...
How did the Orcs managed to find her? Wasn't that road safe? Who knew of her errands in that part of the Middle Earth?
Who had betrayed her?
Again she heard The Orcs screaming, the Wargs growling, and the clash of swords and knifes. She had to run faster.
But even if she pushed her legs with all her strength, she was getting weaker and weaker at every step. It was getting dark, or was it only an impression? It couldn't be nights already? What was that thick fog, falling upon her?
She had to run, or the Orcs...
It got darker. A blackness came over her, obfuscating her senses, and she couldn't see where she was going, and her thoughts, oh her thoughts!, started getting entangled one with the other, and she didn't even know why she was running anymore.
Where was she running? When did she started running? Where was her cloak?
She fell again, and this time she wasn't able to get up. Her mind cried in desperation, but the voice of her conscience was getting weak and distant...
In a moment, the Orcs were all around her. She saw their deformed faces getting closer and closer, their mocking sneers, their rasping noises...
Before the thick, dense fog closed over her mind, she cried the name of her mentor and dearest friend...
"Gandalf!"
Inneg opened her eyes. It was dark in the room. Her lips moved one, two times, without any sound escaping them.
Finally, at the third attempt, a barely audible whisper. "Gandalf..."
A minute later, she was up, with a thick blanket thrown over her shoulder, our of her room, marching in the hallway.
Not that she knew where she was going.
"Gandalf?" she called hesitantly in the empty corridor, as if she expected to see the Wizard pop up from behind a golden column. "Gandalf!"
Her heart was pounding in her chest, and it was difficult to breath, and her thoughts were whirling in her mind so fast it was hard to catch them.
But that fog that had been suffocating her consciousness was finally starting to thin out, and she was finally able to grasp some memories, some tiny bits of what had happened before...
'Before the Orcs were on me.' "Gandalf?"
Although there was very little that she remembered. The Wizard, and that horrible run, were the only things she could think about.
She fastened her steps, passing among golden chambers and lamps that... 'Dwarvish lamps!'
She remembered only on that moment were she was. 'Erebor...'
The Lonely Mountain, that Thorin Oakenshield had freed from the hideous presence of the dragon Smaug! She knew that story, those names were echoing in her mind and she knew, knew she had heard them before.
But Gandalf! The image of the Grey Pilgrim, his gentle voice and piercing blue eyes, were so clear in her mind. 'I must find him!'
"Gandalf?" she asked again to the empty halls.
Where was him?
And the Orcs! She remembered she was running, in her sleep she had remembered those terrible moments, right before her will was swiped away and she was left bare, like a drunk woman, slumbering among her own thoughts and memories.
Gandalf name alone was towering in her mass of her thoughts, still covered by that fog that refused to leave her.
'I need to find him!'
It was important, she knew it! If only she could find him, maybe she would remember why she needed to talk to him so urgently.
She run more in the hallways immersed in the shadows of the night, and up and down marble stairs, and she kept calling him, not realising she was going around in circle.
She had no idea for how long she had been wondering like a mad woman - but she was all but mad! - however, focused onto that small, pale thread of memory she was trying desperately to hold onto, she didn't heard steps coming from the opposite direction.
She realised that she was not alone in the corridor only when she crashed onto someone.
Someone that, even if shorter than her, stood quietly on his feet, while Inneg was sent with her back on the floor.
"Ahi!" she cried, more surprised than hurt.
"Oh, lass!" chuckled the person she bumped into. "Isn't it a little early for you to be out of bed?"
Inneg lifted her eyes, and she met first a long, white beard, then a huge nose, and finally a pair of black, gentle eyes.
"Gandalf?" She asked, after a few seconds of hesitation.
No, that man - 'Dwarf, this is a Dwarf' - was not Gandalf. 'Gandalf is taller.'
The Dwarf smiled down at her. "I am afraid you are mistaken, young lady. My name is Balin. We met a few days ago."
From her spot on the floor, Inneg blinked a few times, before she was able to recall where and when she had met the Dwarf. Yes, it was the very old, gentle short man. "Yes," she said slowly. "Balin."
It was strange to talk again.
Balin studied the girl in front of him, and he saw those intelligent eyes searching him, analysing him, and finally recognising him. And the Dwarf noticed in those eyes a a sharpness that was not there the night before.
"Yes. My name is Balin." He said with a small bow. "Isn't it a little early for you to be out of bed, lass?" He asked again.
"Is Gandalf here?" Inneg was speaking slowly, afraid that her tongue might decide to stop working again. Damn, it had been awful to be mute!
"I am afraid Gandalf is not here." Balin looked worriedly at the girl, as she grimaced and her eyes went searching the empty hallway. "But you have nothing to fear here. I was right about to have some tea, Inneg, if you would like to follow me..." and by saying so, Balin stretched out a hand to the girl on the floor.
Inneg seemed to think about the proposal - even though thinking clearly was very hard. Gandalf was not there, and that wasn't a good thing, but tea was a good thing, right? Her mind answered that yes, tea was a very good idea.
Therefore, Inneg nodded, deciding to go on for the tea. She took Balin's hand, getting on her feet.
"Come on Inneg. Let's go!" Balin gestured her to follow him, and the girl with the golden hair went obediently after the Dwarf.
"Inneg..." she murmured after a little while, pronouncing the name the Dwarves had given her as if she was tasting it on her tongue. "Yes, this is how you call me..."
"Right." Balin turned to look at her with a smile. "But I can imagine Inneg is not your real name, lass."
The eyes of the woman they called 'Inneg' sparkled in the light the Dwarvish lamps, and she smiled. "That's true," she whispered. "My name is not Inneg. My name is Cornelia."