Hello, everyone! I hope you're having a great summer so far (or winter – in that case, greetings from the other hemisphere ;) ).
When I started writing this story, I never thought I'd get a response such as this one, especially not after only three chapters. Thank you, dear readers, reviewers and followers, for your support –especially: ro781727 (Thank you so much for your review! You are right about Olwen's powers; if she continues to rely on them, that will cause consequences. For now, all I can say is this: keep an eye out for the chapters to come. ;) ), lydo99 (Thank you! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter just as much as the previous one. :) ) and MaryCo (Спасибо большое! I'm so happy to hear that you liked this story. Of course, I will keep writing – I have many more ideas that I didn't include in the chapters yet. I also wish you a lovely day! :) ).
I also have to mention you, HorrorFan13, Pusteblume1991, Silversun XD, SumiJepson, Yurasen, lullabydono, moon1691, nine lifes, wicca7002, Alfred Jeppsson, Altean-purrincess, Carly Carnations, Carthya-Marie, Eala Bhan, Mathax, Night-Storms, One-Random-Thought, QuietTimeToday, UnknownReaderHasJoined, chimpnsocks, creativeLunatic, lilith-thetiny-monster, narcisse203, numbrfive, shell2523, tjmarielila, Annie-Mae29 and Erika Karvenberg. Thank you for your favourites and/or choosing to follow this story!
And one more thing – I changed a few events from DoS, which means that Bard and Bain won't make an appearance in this chapter. But, they will come in the next one. I promise. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit. This piece of writing is purely for entertainment.
CHAPTER FOUR
Fíli stepped back as the door lurched on its hinges. The guard had given it another push, and he managed to prise it open for an inch or so before he was stopped by the cupboard in his way. But, the bulky piece of furniture could not hold him off for good; after his every attempt to break in, it would shift a bit further across the floor, while the space for him to pull through only grew larger.
"Here, hold this", Fíli whispered to Olwen, letting go of the cloth on her shoulder. Having guided her hand there, he looped her free arm around his neck, only to tug her back on her feet. "Come with me. Come on."
A muffled groan escaped her while they retreated through the room, and he felt genuinely sorry. Yet, he could not stop. He had to get her as far from the door as possible, should the guards seek a fight. Ushering her towards one of the kitchen cabinets, he cast a glance behind him just as the door creaked further open.
"Wait. Fili." Olwen's voice was hardly a breath, but he turned his head, and he noticed the same thing she had. Another guard had appeared at a window nearby, and Fili ducked behind an overturned bench, with Olwen in tow.
"I know you're in there, Tilda", a voice shouted, followed by another bang on the door, "You, too, Sigrid. Don't think I can't see you hiding over there!"
"How many?", Fíli whispered. His eyes searched for Tilda, who was the closest to the door, and she raised four fingers. That was when his insides clenched. The feeling got worse once he looked on his right, where his brother lay. This house was not safe for them anymore, but escaping it would require time they did not have.
With the possibility of a fight getting stronger, he found himself turning to look at a kitchen knife, dropped on the floor behind him. He had no weapons when the Orcs arrived; he was not about to make the same mistake. However, he barely reached for it when, without a warning, a snarl drifted somewhere from outside.
Nobody dared to move as another one rang out, followed by a loud, sickening crash, as though a skirmish had broken out in one of the nearest streets.
"What in the name of –", a guard muttered, before he suddenly went quiet. "Braga, what are you doing?"
The only answer he received were steps, pounding over the floorboards, which caused Olwen to slump in relief. The other guards had ran off, heading straight for the fray, and – if the ensuing clatter of armour and weapons was anything to go by – his friends darted after him. Their voices faded within moments, drowned out by the faraway sound of metal striking metal.
In the meantime, nobody dared to make a sound, in case the guards chose to come back. That lasted until Tilda moved from her hiding spot by the door. Having looked at Tauriel on the other side of the room, the lass peered through the small gap between the door and the wall.
"What was that?", she asked in a low, horrified voice.
"There is nothing to fear", the she-elf told her, having made a few steps closer, "Legolas must have found the remaining Orcs. They will not bother you any longer."
"You're saying there are more of those creatures?"
Though Tauriel probably said something in return, Fíli did not hear it. He was now looking at the dead Orcs and their weapons, scattered through the kitchen, his mind reeling from what had happened.
He was still glaring at them when Olwen suddenly pushed herself up, clutching the bench beside her, her face flushed with exertion.
"Hey, stay still. Stay still." Having whirled around, he reached out, his hand hovering just above her bandage. It had already soaked through. He stood for a moment, pondering on where to find another cloth, when he gazed to the side and found – "Oin!"
The healer was still alive, and he silently thanked whomever was watching over them as Oin crouched beside them, with his ear trumpet in one hand and his old apothecary bag in the other.
"Oin, stay with her. I'll be back as soon as I can."
As he pushed himself back to his feet, the healer lifted the ear trumpet, probably hoping that he had heard something wrong. "You want me to stay?"
Fíli nodded. In another time, he would have stayed as well to assist the healer, and to make sure she was all right. However, he had a more pressing matter to attend to.
"The guards will get in here", he said, "We can't stop them, that is certain. But, we can make sure they don't find out what happened and arrest us all."
Olwen frowned at him for a bit, clinging to the bench. "What do you have in mind?"
Fíli glanced at the Orcs and their weapons, scattered over the room. He was not so enthused about what was going to happen next, and he sought comfort in the fact that, the sooner he started, the sooner he would finish it. And so he pushed himself up and walked away.
Someone needed to clean up this place.
.
.
.
She could not stop shaking.
The cold air and the growing, throbbing pain in her shoulder were not the only reasons, however. Another culprit was exhaustion, the kind that would catch up with her every time she reached for her magic, making her wonder how she could even stand. Throughout her stay in the dungeon, she had almost forgotten how the consequences felt like, and a part of her was relieved that she would not have to go through it all again. Muttering a curse under her breath, she bowed her head until it rested against one of the kitchen cabinets.
She also hoped that the dwarf healer, who was currently stitching her wound, would finish his work soon.
Even though Oin was not the most talkative person, his sullen expression had betrayed all his displeasure with being in the same room with her. But, not once had he left her side. While everyone else had scattered through the house to dispose of the Orc corpses, the dwarf sat beside her, already pulling supplies out of his apothecary bag and helping her ease out of her ruined tunic. If that was not strange enough, the realisation that he stayed to take care of her shoulder filled her with disbelief.
Meanwhile, the other occupants of the house decided to keep their distance – the lass named Sigrid in particular. When Olwen caught her gaze once, she almost immediately turned away, pretending to be occupied with a bowl of herbs on her right. She also began to slowly inch towards the opposite side of the room, to which Olwen sighed in resignation. Sigrid was clearly afraid of her, and there was nothing left to be done about it.
She winced all of a sudden, pulled from her thoughts whilst Oin added another stitch. Although he was sitting behind her, she turned her head to the side as much as she could until she caught a glimpse of his hands.
"We're on the same side, master dwarf", she said, loudly enough for him to hear without his trumpet, "Otherwise, I wouldn't have used my power just on Orcs."
"I still don't know who you are." Having tugged at the end of the thread, the dwarf paused, "But, I know enough about your kind. Especially that you can do much more than this. What guarantees do I have that you won't turn on us the moment you see fit?"
"None. Except for my word."
"A word from someone who practices the dark arts."
"Well, since you mentioned it, that does sound a bit discouraging. It's better than nothing, though."
The healer was certainly far from assured. He also seemed to be done, because he moved into her line of sight, placing aside the needle and thread, and his eyes dwelled to the other supplies he had arranged nearby.
"I guess I'll have to hold you to it", he said gruffly, picking up a strip of clean cloth. But, then something made him look back at her. "Nevertheless, you should know this. If you harm anyone from the company, or the children, you will answer to me. That is my word."
"Fair enough." Olwen offered a hand for the healer to shake. "So, do we have a truce now?"
In all honesty, she knew Oin would not take it. And since that did not happen, the disappointment she felt was just slight. Letting the silence fall between them, the healer unrolled the cloth, winding it around her arm with the swiftness that spoke of a long experience.
"Try to get some rest, lass." That was all he said before he tied the bandage off and left to pack his belongings. What came as a surprise, though, was how quickly he did it. By the time Olwen took Fíli's coat to cover herself, he was already shuffling to the other room, while the brown garment in her hands became her only company.
Of course, there was also Kíli. Yet, having a chat with him might be difficult, given that he was asleep.
She had to admit it concerned her, seeing him so still in the bed nearby. Since Fíli and Oin had carried him there, he did not stir at all, despite his cheek being pressed uncomfortably against the mattress. However, she had to remind herself that he was getting better. Some colour that had begun returning to his face was one of the signs.
"I feel that I must apologise, Olwen."
She turned towards the voice, only to find Tauriel, who was now standing at the opposite end of the cabinet.
"I pleaded with you to join me, knowing full well that this was not your fight", the she-elf clarified.
"There is no need to fret about it", Olwen told her, "The fault is not entirely yours. If you recall, I was the one who'd agreed to leave the dungeon behind."
Tauriel's reply was a feeble smile and a nod, so small that it was almost unnoticeable. She lingered by the cabinet for a while, after which she took a few tentative steps through the kitchen, halting at Kíli bedside.
"Your intervention saved a few lives tonight." She darted a brief glance at Olwen. "How do you feel about it?"
"That won't erase my misdeed so easily, you know."
"I never said it would." Having knelt beside the bed, Tauriel slowly reached out and rested her hand against Kíli's forehead, searching for any sign of a fever. "Still, you have the right to be glad about this. An entire pack of Orcs is gone thanks to your help."
Olwen was tempted to say she felt nothing. But, she refrained from it, because that would have been a lie. The notion that her power had saved someone, although it involved raising a dead Orc, was rather pleasing to her; there was no use in denying it. And perhaps it made the pain she was in a tad more bearable.
Yet, she was not quite satisfied, as there was a thought that continued to prey on her mind. At first, she fought off the urge to look away, only to give in soon after, letting her gaze wander to the floorboards behind Tauriel. She saw a jagged blade embedded into the wood, as well as a corpse sprawled near it, belonging to the same Orc who had tried to run Fíli through. It might have been a while, but her stomach still twisted at the memory.
"These Orcs were quite... resolved to stop the dwarves", she mused, "The last time I heard, they would not pursue anyone all the way to Mirkwood and beyond."
"Then I am relieved we got here in time", Tauriel said in a hushed tone, averting her gaze from Kíli.
"But, you have to agree something's not right."
"There is nothing right when it comes to Orcs." The she-elf moved to sit at the edge of the bed. "I have to concur with you, however. All of this is truly strange."
Olwen would have been satisfied, if Tauriel had not stalled before saying that. As the elf glanced one more time at Kíli, her brow furrowed, as if she were hesitating.
As though she were hiding a thing or two.
Who says that elves and men are so different? Olwen felt the corner of her lips curve. Though she was not yet certain, she had a nagging feeling that there was much more to the dwarves and their quest than she thought. Whatever that might be, she certainly would not find it out from Tauriel, since she did not appear willing to share what she knew. But, that did not mean Olwen could not investigate on her own, once she got her chance for it.
"At least this is over and done with." She tried to move, gritting her teeth when she accidentally pulled her stitches. "Speaking of which, where do we go from here?"
"We will wait for Legolas to return, and find out what he had seen. And then your path will be of your choosing."
"How so?"
"I asked you to come with me and help the dwarves, which you did. I will not force you to follow me any further." No sooner did Tauriel say it than she went quiet. She tilted her head to the side, in a way one would after making a puzzling discovery. "You did not expect that."
"Yes – no. I mean, I –" Olwen stopped, having realised that she was stuttering. She had hardly considered the possibility that, one day, she could just walk away from this. In fact, she was convinced she would meet the sharp end of an Orc sword long before gaining her freedom. However, there she was, bruised and far too exhausted to stand up, yet remaining in one piece.
"I am serious." Tauriel leaned closer, keeping her voice low when she added: "You can go anywhere you wish, choose any trade that has your interest. With a little assistance, of course." She detached a small bag, around the size of a fist, off her belt and handed to Olwen. "I believe this will cover your expenses until you get there."
Olwen took the bag, completely lost for words. But, the coins she had seen inside it were not the reason. Rather, it was the dread that was steadily pooling in her gut.
She might be lucky to find a new place to call home. Yet, whichever city, town or village she settled in, there was always a chance she would unleash her magic in front of someone. With so many bones buried in the earth, it is bound to happen, she had been told, seemingly ages ago, All you need to do is wait long enough.
"Have I said something wrong?", Tauriel asked.
"No. It's just –" Wrapping herself further in the coat, Olwen managed a shrug with one shoulder. "People like me do not tend to have happy endings."
"You might be surprised where the road takes you."
"I'm not so sure about that."
"Tauriel."
The hoarse whisper made them both whirl around, and they suddenly realised that Kíli was awake.
Olwen scooted near the bed, wondering how much of the conversation he had heard. But, the dwarf did not seem to notice her, having turned his head in Tauriel's direction. Judging by his gaze, which kept wandering across the room, he was not completely there yet.
That was when he moved his hand. He had barely the strength to do it, but he did not give up until it stopped at the end of the mattress. Before Olwen could ask him or the elf what was happening, Kíli hung his hand over the edge – which turned out to be just enough for his calloused fingers to brush against Tauriel's.
And the she-elf did not pull her hand back.
What in the name of... oh. Oh. Olwen stared at them in a long silence, most likely with her mouth agape. Now she understood why Tauriel had been so keen on finding him, and why she would risk the wrath of her king, even her life. Still, that did not make Olwen any less baffled.
While seconds dragged on, she started to feel like an intruder in that place, and she got the urge to make herself scarce. Unfortunately, being unable to push herself to her feet, she had to settle for turning away instead and facing the opposite wall. That is, after daring to sneak one more glance at the two of them.
They were a peculiar sight, without a doubt. However, Olwen had to confess there was something endearing about them; especially once Tauriel intertwined her fingers with his, unaware that somebody was watching, which brought a relieved smile to Kíli's face.
The talk about parting ways would certainly have to wait.
.
.
.
With a hand pressed against a wall for support, Olwen hobbled forward. She was trying to move as quietly as possible, but the unnatural silence in the house made every noise, no matter how small, appear deafening. Even the pot that hung above the hearth seemed to bubble too loudly, let alone the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Regrettably, things were not about to change while everyone waited for the guards to return.
During that wait, the lasses and their guests alike took turns in keeping watch, hunched over in a window seat by the stairs. Tauriel had been the first to volunteer, just to be replaced later by Sigrid, and Tilda was next – at least that was Olwen's calculation, until she approached the wooden bench and found someone else sitting there.
"How is your head?", she asked.
Fíli looked away from the window, his eyes widening the instant he saw her. "You should be resting."
"Not when we're expecting company." She grasped the back of the furniture before sinking into the empty space beside him. "I take it they're not here yet."
He did not answer, gazing at her for a long moment. Now that she was close enough, she noticed the bruise darkening around the gash on his brow, while his plaits had come undone, letting his hair fall in unruly waves.
"How did you do that?", he questioned all of a sudden.
"What exactly?", she wondered, though she could have guessed what he was referring to.
"I drove a sword through that Orc myself. He was dead..." Fíli trailed off, his voice low in disbelief. "And then he was not. You laid a hand on him and brought him back, as if nothing had happened."
"I did not." Having seen his confused look, she added: "The Orc was not back. Not in the way you think."
She stalled after that, searching for the right words. However, she was soon taken aback by how difficult that would be. It dawned on her that she had no clue where to begin. For as long as she could remember, no one had ever asked her to explain what she did.
"Have you seen a puppet show before?", she improvised, and he nodded, "This is quite similar. But, instead of wood, the puppets are flesh and bone."
His eyes grew wide in the shadows.
Olwen inwardly winced. He had most likely imagined it all, the bodies rising and hobbling around. Yet, there had been no other way for her to say it. Considering she had revealed her abilities to him, which would possibly give him nightmares for days to come, she felt somewhat obliged to speak the truth. Or a part of it, she thought.
"They can pick up a blade and fight – as you saw", she continued. Evading his eyes, she began to pick at the crusted Orc blood around her fingernails. "But, the moment the magic ends, they simply fall. Whatever made them who they were... I guess it ceased to exist."
For a while, the crackling hearth was the only thing fending off the silence, until Olwen forced herself to meet Fíli's gaze. That was when she frowned in bewilderment. His initial shock had been gone, whilst some emotion she could not identify flickered across his face.
"What's the matter?", she asked in the end.
"It's nothing." A crease emerged on his brow. "I just thought your magic worked differently."
It was then that she grasped what he truly meant. Surprised for not having noticed it earlier, she rested her elbows against her knees, not looking away from him.
"You lost someone", she said.
He said nothing to that, sneaking another look through the window beside him. Though his face did not reveal anything, Olwen saw the pain in his eyes, and only then did she find out that she was right.
"My father", he uttered then, "When I was little."
She wanted to know what had happened to him, but she did not ask. That was not what Fíli needed to hear. With her chin in her hand, she gave him a sad smile.
"I thought of bringing back those I loved", she admitted, "On a few occasions, I was almost willing to do it."
"Why didn't you?", Fíli questioned in surprise.
"A few necromancers had tried it. And it did not matter how they used their craft. Their kin, their lovers, they always returned different. Deformed."
Her answer appeared to have saddened him. "Like the Orc you sent to my aid", he said in a low voice.
"It is said that is the worst kind of pain. Doing everything in your power to bring someone back, only to find out they are truly lost to you." She shook her head, mostly to herself. "You cannot recover from that."
In the stillness that ensued, she became certain that this conversation had gone too far. The night was tense enough as it was without talking of the past.
"It must have been a shock, to see a deceased Orc run through the house", she added, making a pitiful attempt to lighten up the mood.
To her astonishment, a wry smile appeared underneath his mustache. "I cannot say I was expecting that."
"If it's any consolation, now you know why I wasn't so interested in leaving the dungeon."
"And I still don't. You never said it."
Whether he had anything else to tell her, he kept it to himself, because something on the other side of the window had drawn his attention. Olwen followed his gaze, just in time to spot a lone figure rushing through the darkness, heading past a wide canal that separated the house they were in from the neighbour's.
It could have been one of the guards, on his way back. As she tensed up at the idea, her hand slid down to her shoe, where she was hiding the knife Fili had given her. Yet, she halted once the stranger outside stepped into the light of a lantern. It was a mere fisherman by the looks of him, with a sack slung over his back.
That was when she felt Fíli's gaze on her. And she realised that he was still waiting for her answer despite everything, genuinely interested to hear it.
"I made a mistake", she confessed, in hopes that would satisfy his curiosity, "I did not wish it to happen again, so I left for Mirkwood to lock myself away."
"Isn't an elvish dungeon a bit too much?"
"You don't know what I did."
Perhaps she had said it harsher than intended since, in the corner of her vision, Oin had turned to glance at them, lifting his battered ear trumpet. He must have been keeping an eye on her, just in case that he needed to honour his promise. Not that she blamed him for it.
"Olwen", Fíli told her, shifting her attention back to him. It was then that, for a reason she did not understand, he became oddly solemn. "Thank you. For coming here."
She blinked, having not expected that. "You're welcome."
Unsure what else to say, she did the first thing that crossed her mind, which was turning towards the window. Although the glass was already lined with frost, she managed to discern the line of wooden houses across from theirs. But, her gaze was soon drifted upwards, to a dark shape that loomed above the rooftops.
It took her a while to realise that she was looking at the outline of Erebor. Even under the cover of darkness, the mountain was impressive, yet the longer she gazed at it, the more uneasy she began to feel. There was something almost sinister in the way it peered from the shadows, and she could only wonder why the dwarves would want so desperately to reclaim that place.
Speaking of dwarves... Having cast a look over her shoulder, she noticed that a few of Fíli's companions were missing. Quite a few, if she recalled correctly.
"I thought there would be more of your kin", she mused, "While they were sneaking out of your cells, a fair number of them walked past our door."
"You are not mistaken", Fíli replied, "They were here, for a while. But, Kíli's wound was getting worse, so I decided to stay behind with him. Oin, as well."
"What of your uncle?"
"He..." The dwarf hesitated, a concerned frown returning to his face. He glanced at the opposite side of the house, where his brother's bed was. "We were running out of time, so to speak. And he could not wait."
"Oh." She briefly fell silent, finding it hard to understand why his uncle would leave behind his nephews and heirs, one of them being seriously ill. "I assume he was not too pleased about your decision."
"Not at all. But, he could not make me change my mind. Years ago, I'd told Kíli we would enter the halls of Erebor together, and I was not about to go back on my word."
Fíli's eyes soon drifted to the window, and Olwen followed his example, squinting at the Lonely Mountain's silhouette. She knew that it was of great importance to the dwarves, yet she still had no idea what the Orcs would gain for stopping them. If only one of that pack was alive, I might get some answers, she told herself.
It was then that it hit her.
A small part of her told her not to do it. It would be dangerous, without a doubt. However, she ended up pushing herself up and off the window seat, determined to give it a go. After all, she had grown tired of everyone keeping secrets from her, the she-elf included. She needed to know what was truly happening in this place.
"Wait." Fíli turned after her. "Where are you going?"
Before he could go after her, she hobbled through the nearest door and went down a flight of stairs, cautiously making her way to the wharf room below. She had to be quick, though, if she wanted this to work. The longer she waited, the less she would find out.
The room she entered was small. Open at one end to the canal, it was almost on the same level as the water, which softly splashed against the house. Having descended the stairs, Olwen moved forward until the wooden floor was gone and the water began, and she stared down at the ripples in front of her feet.
It was no wonder why this place had been chosen for disposing of Orc corpses. The lake was so dark that they would possibly never be found.
She only hoped that it was not that deep.
Having slipped out of Fíli's coat, she left it to the side. It was then that she slowly lowered herself on her knees, and then on her stomach, so close to the edge that the tip of her nose almost touched the lake. With a shudder, she reached out with her unscathed arm and – before the nerves would get the better of her – she shoved it into the water, all the way up to her shoulder.
It was cold. So horribly cold. Her entire arm felt as if she had dug it into a hole full of needles, yet she did her best to ignore it as she moved her fingers through the pitch black water, seeking anything that would be of use to her.
And she found it.
Her breath caught in her throat when she felt something below. She turned her hand, trying to figure out the shape she had stumbled upon. It feels like fingers. I think I found an Orc's hand – no, wait. These are too small for fingers. A shudder went through her. Valar help me. I'm holding on to someone's toes. Disgusted, she thought of pulling her arm out of the water, but she could not afford to stall any more. That was why she wrapped her own fingers around the Orc's foot, summoning the magic that had never truly left her side.
The foot slipped out of her hand. She opened her eyes just in time to find the water rippling, as if something had moved beneath the surface. Having wrenched her arm out, she tried to scuttle away, yet she did not get far when a grimy face emerged from the depths.
Although she was familiar with this kind of magic, she had never used it on an Orc before. However, her attempt turned out to be successful. The creature she had touched raised its head out of the frigid lake, and it was now staring back at her with blank, unseeing eyes.
As her strength had started ebbing away, Olwen pushed herself into a sitting position, drawing a shaky breath. She had learnt long ago that, in spite of a person being dead, their memories would cling on to them for a short while; the rule must have applied on the Orc, as well. Yet, that also meant that those memories were fading with every passing minute. The thought of it made her push all her misgivings aside. It is now or never.
"Why are you here?", she demanded, "Why is the Lonely Mountain that important to you?"
The Orc twitched in the water. Whilst she was sitting there, fending off the tiredness, she watched as the Orc slowly unstuck his lips.
"The mountain will soon belong to them", he replied at last, his voice hoarse from disuse.
"To whom?"
"They are marching from the south." He twitched once more. "Hundreds. Thousands. They are already on the move. When they come, it will be too late."
A chill crawled up her spine. "Do you speak of Orcs?"
"Bolg will not accept failure", the creature said in a deeper voice, probably belonging to someone else from his memory. His tone then returned to its previous height. "Find the dwarves. Leave none alive."
"Where will this attack happen? On which day?" Aware of her heart thudding in her chest, she knew she could not hold on much longer. "Answer me!"
The Orc inclined his head, as a person would when trying to hear someone better. It filled her with unease that someone dead was doing the same. But, then the Orc shattered the silence with a single word:
"Gundabad."
"On what day?", she repeated, louder this time.
"Gundabad", the Orc rasped, "Gundabad."
Hardly did he utter the word than she was forced the stop the magic; and the next thing she recalled was reeling from the water, her breath coming in short pants. Her shivers became so much worse that she barely managed not to crumple across the floorboards.
Something wet, and far too warm to be lake water, was trickling down her chin. She recognised it as blood, yet she did not make an effort to wipe it. Instead, she remained stunned on the floor, gawping at the spot where the Orc's head had been seconds ago. It had slipped back into the lake, but that did not matter.
With an army of Orcs on its way, plenty of things that once concerned her no longer mattered.
To be continued.
Until next time, please, let me know what you think of this chapter - or if you have any ideas you wish to share. I would appreciate every feedback (even if it is only a couple of words)! :)