"That's it, pull it back. No, not like– yeah."
Kili was not the best teacher, but he was certainly an enthusiastic one. Andrea pulled back the string of the bow, aiming an arrow at a makeshift target carved into a tree. Her arms shook with the effort. The tree wasn't even that far away.
Andrea held that for a moment, then lowered the bow without loosing the arrow. "I think it would be easier to learn how to use a blade," she said irritably. "There's less finesse involved in stabbing things."
"Bows are more useful," Kili replied cheerfully. "You can shoot down dinner, enemies, and annoying brothers. They're a lot more multipurpose."
"And harder to work with." Andrea lifted the bow, aimed as best she could, and let the arrow fly. It wobbled through the air, struck the bottom of the tree, and bounced of with a faint thunk.
Andrea didn't really notice, though, because she was too busy hunching in on herself with a few choice swears. She understood, now, why some Amazons had removed their right breast so they could better shoot their bows. It hurt like hell to have a bowstring snap over your nipple.
"You okay, miss?" Kili asked, bending over to meet her eye.
"I think I'd be better off leaving the shooting to you Dwarves," Andrea managed after sucking in a few lungfuls of cold spring air.
Kili laughed. "Well, you must learn to defend yourself, Miss Chen. If you will not accept my shooting lessons, maybe Fili will teach you how to wield a sword."
Andrea glanced at Fili, who was never far from his brother. The blonde Dwarf shrugged. "I could show you a few things," he assented. "Mind you, it'll be a long time before you reach my esteemed level of experti–"
A hand darted out and cuffed Fili about the head. Dwalin shook his head with a grumble and said, "If you want to learn defense, Miss Chen, it's best you ask it of someone other than our princes. They have more spirit than they have experience."
"We have experience enough!" Fili protested, ducking from under the warrior's arm. "I seem to remember being beaten black and blue by the flat of your blade, and if that isn't battle I don't know what is."
Dwalin only scoffed. "I think our Miss Chen will be a far better behaved student than the two of you." Quick as a whip, he stole the sword from Fili's belt and tossed it to Andrea. She took a step back, startled, and the blade fell onto the grass.
"Go on," Dwalin commanded, drawing a sword of his own. "Pick it up."
Slowly, Andrea bent and picked up the sword. It was heavy in her hand, far heavier than she'd thought it would be. Experimentally, she swung it back and forth. It was heavier than expected, yes, but now that she was holding it she couldn't imagine trying to use a sword that didn't weight much.
"Don't hold it like that," Dwalin rebuked. "Like this."
Andrea tried to hold the blade as demonstrated. Dwalin shook his head and stepped over, manipulating her arm and hand to his satisfaction before stepping back again.
"The most basic moves," he said, "are the thrust and the slash. Watch."
Andrea watched closely at the Dwarf as he demonstrated the two moves. God, she thought, I hate learning new things.
By the end of an hour, Andrea was not quite black and blue, but she had aches in places she didn't know even had muscles, and had begun to wish she was one of those girls who learned how to sword-fight within a single chapter.
Dwalin seemed somewhat satisfied, at least; his scowl bore a slightly lighter tint to it. "Well you won't be dying too quickly," he grunted. "Until you've learned more, the best defense you have is running away."
Andrea sat heavily on the cool grass. "That's the plan," she said breathlessly.
"You're not that bad," Bilbo said. He, along with the three youngest Dwarves of the Company, had been watching Andrea's humiliating lesson. "I daresay any Hobbit would be impressed."
"If they managed to get over their disapproval," Andrea agreed. She flopped back onto the ground, arms splayed out. The sky looked very nice, just taking on the deep blue of early morning. A lovely contrast to the afternoon rains of the past few days.
Bilbo hummed. "True enough. No proper Hobbit approves of violence. We aren't at all adventurous."
"You don't need to be." Andrea thought of the four Hobbits of The Lord of the Rings. Had they even been born yet? "You just need the courage to carry on in the circumstances you've been dropped into." She cast a smile at Bilbo. "I think Hobbits have a lot more courage than they think."
The Hobbit smiled back slightly. The smile fell when Thorin, preceded by his frown, stomped into the little clearing. He looked about, his eyes lingering disapprovingly on Bilbo and Andrea.
"We're heading out," he said shortly. Dwalin nodded, walking past Thorin and through the brush towards the camp. Ori and Bilbo scurried past the Dwarf king as well, leaving Kili and Fili to haul Andrea to her feet.
"Ayoh!" Andrea stumbled forward under the force of their hands. "Hours of riding after this morning?" She tsked to herself.
"You'll get used to it," Kili said with a smile.
Fili bent and retrieved his sword from the grass. "Everyone has to start somewhere," he agreed.
"Kili, Fili, come on," Thorin snapped. His nephews moved marginally quicker.
Despite a couple setbacks (namely the fact that Gloin refused to leave until he'd found his spare tinderbox), they were soon on the road.
After three weeks of riding a pony for several hours a day, Andrea considered herself to be getting rather good at it. She wouldn't be winning any horse shows, but she could get from point A to point B without many hitches, and that's really all that matters.
The day carried on as usual. Andrea listened to the idle chatter and the spells of easy silence, deeply regretting allowing Dwalin to try to teach her the art of the blade; her thighs and glutes ached with the minimal effort required to stay upright on a pony.
"Miss Chen," Balin said sometime before noon, "Might the Company prevail upon you another of your stories?"
Andrea stopped pitying her physical state and looked up. "I don't see why not," she said after a few moments. "What kind of story would you like?"
If Balin replied, it couldn't be heard, because Kili said enthusiastically, "A story about a prince!"
"Two princes," Fili amended.
"Princely brothers," Kili said, nodding in agreement.
Andrea huffed and rolled her eyes. "Alright, a story about a pair of princes." She considered it for a few moments, before her thoughts settled on one story in particular that she knew like the back of her hand.
She looked over her shoulder to where Gandalf's grey horse plodded along. The wizard looked ahead, expression placid. He probably wouldn't approve of telling the story to this company– hell, neither did Andrea, but… she didn't need to name names.
"Once," she begun slowly, "There were two princes. Men of Gondor, the White City."
Quiet fell over the Company as they all listened. Even Thorin's stormy silence seemed slightly more attentive. Kili and Fili stared at Andrea openly as she continued.
"There could not be two different men. The elder brother was tall and broad, a great warrior. The younger brother was slender, more known for his bookishness than his might. And yet, they were both great men. The people of Gondor loved them both equally… but their father did not." Images of Sean Bean and John Noble flashed through Andrea's mind, as well as… whoever had played Faramir. "Their father, ruler of Gondor, much preferred his elder son, for the elder held a strength more easily perceived."
Hums and murmurs of acknowledgment followed Andrea's words.
"One year," she continued, "the two brothers and their army reclaimed a city long lost to the Enemy. They celebrated together, praising one another. But their mirth was cut short by the arrival of their father.
"To his elder son, the ruler of Gondor said, 'The lands to the north and west are calling a council; a great power has come to light. You will go.'
"'I cannot,' the eldest said. 'My people need me here, to keep this city. Send your younger son, he is more than suited to the task.'
"The ruler of Gondor turned to his younger son. 'Him? No, he is too weak. You will go, my mighty warrior. Go to the council and bring this mighty gift to our people, that it might make us stronger against the Enemy.' And so the elder brother went."
Andrea swallowed a little, her throat slightly dry. She continued with, "But the power that the ruler of Gondor wished for was not what he thought it to be. It was a great evil, forged in darkness and destruction. The shape of the evil is lost to time but…" She looked over her shoulder to Gandalf, and found him watching her, his eyes glinting under the shadow of his hood. "But it is said that it was forged in the form of a golden ring.
"The evil could only be destroyed where it had been made, so a company was formed to guard its bearer, who would carry it to its destruction. The elder prince of Gondor joined the quest, but he did not intend to allow it to be destroyed. No, he wished to take it to Gondor, where it might be used to protect his city.
"The evil that the company bore was more powerful than any of them had thought. It whispered promises of power in their ears. It took the prince's desire to protect his city and twisted it into a desire for the power of the Ring. He could not resist its temptation."
She thought suddenly of Thror and his goldsickness. Perhaps the Company thought of it too, because a tension filled the air.
Andrea hurried to carry on. "The elder prince of Gonder tried to take the evil from its bearer. He was thwarted, and when its bearer fled, the influence of the Ring faded. The prince was ashamed, and he wept, but he could not mourn for long. Their company had been set upon by Orcs, and scattered through the woods. The prince leapt to the aid of the youngest and most defenseless of their company." Andrea felt a faint memory of grief, despite the fact that Boromir was fictional.
But not fictional here, she thought. He just hasn't been born yet.
"He took an Orcish arrow to the chest, but he did not stop fighting to save the youngest of the company. Another arrow made him stumble, but he did not cease. It was the third arrow that drove him to his knees, and he watched as those he had fought to protect were carried away by Orcs.
"He died ashamed and mourning, his sacrifice almost meaningless. His body was laid in a boat and let down the river, while the remnants of the company mourned him.
"But the evil carried on. It was born away over many miles, until at last its bearer was brought before the younger prince of Gondor. 'Where is my brother?' the prince asked the bearer. 'I saw a vision of him, laid in a boat and floating to the sea. And here is his shield, cloven in two, which washed up on the shores not two days ago.'
"'The evil tempted him, and he could not resist,' the bearer replied. 'So you must let me go, lest you fall under its spell as well.'
"But the evil was already whispering to the younger prince. Whispering promises of power, and his father's love." Andrea paused, glancing at her audience. Kili and Fili looked entranced, and Ori looked as though he would very much like to write this down. "But the younger prince was deaf to the hisses and snarls of the evil. He was not mighty, like his brother, but he held a strength of soul that no other prince of Gondor had ever possessed. So he let the bearer go. And when the evil had been destroyed, he was made king of Gondor. And he ruled justly and fairly, not a warrior, but a leader."
Not a satisfying ending, but Andrea didn't want to go into all the minutiae of it all. She'd been long-winded enough as it was.
"That's a lot different from your other stories," Kili said after several long moments.
"I liked it," Ori declared.
The rest of the Company grunted or grumbled their various opinions.
"It was certainly a very interesting story," Gandalf said enigmatically. Andrea carefully did not look back at him.
"It seems to be a part of a larger story," Balin observed thoughtfully.
Andrea laughed. "It is. The whole story is a lot longer, practically an epic. I don't know if I could ever tell it all." She definitely didn't want to. Dwarves are long-lived– what if it stayed in their minds and they recognized it when the tale of The Lord of the Rings began?
Fili leaned over the head of his pony. "So what's the moral of it, then? It seems like it ought to have a moral to it."
Andrea blinked, and said, "Well… I guess it's about temptation. Power corrupts, and the elder brother, even though he was a good man, was thirsty for power. But the younger brother just wanted the good and love of his people." She looked at Thorin's broad back. "The moral of the story is that greed and want for power can drive even the best of men to madness."
The Company continued on in thoughtful silence. Andrea felt Gandalf's eyes on the back of her head.
Andrea liked rain. She liked the wind and smell of it, the coolness. She hated being in it though.
She pulled Bombur's spare cloak closer about herself and cursed the stormy skies and the rainy seasons that apparently plagued all parts of the world. She also cursed the cramps that tore at her belly– her period had started yesterday, unexpectedly expected as always. Thankfully, she'd caught it before it could stain her underwear.
Riding a pony while your uterus squeezes out its lining is exceedingly uncomfortable.
"Master Gandalf," called Dori above the sound of the rain. "Can't you do something about this deluge?"
If she'd been any sort of animal, Andrea's ears would have pricked up. She was only human, however, with round-tipped, immovable ears. So she only looked to Gandalf for the expected reply.
Gandalf looked about as irritated by the wet as the rest of the Company. Water came off his hat in sheets as he said imperiously, "It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done." He shook his head. Still more water fell from his hat. "If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard."
"Are there any?" said Bilbo, as he was meant to.
"What?" Gandalf asked.
"Other wizards," Bilbo clarified.
"Ah." Gandalf hummed. "There are five of us. The greatest of our Order is Saruman the White."
How much did Gandalf know, Andrea wondered. He knew that Thorin and his kin would die, but did he know much else of the Tolkien stories? Did he know that Saruman was an agent of Sauron? He'd said it wasn't good for someone to know their own future… so maybe he didn't know.
"Then there are the two Blue wizards," Gandalf went on, then paused. "You know, I've quite forgotten their names."
"How long has it been since you saw them, to forget their names?" Andrea asked.
Gandalf shook his head. "Far too long, my dear. They went to the lands of the far east long ago, and I haven't seen or heard of them since."
"And the fifth wizard?" asked Bilbo. "Who is he?"
"Well, that would be Radagast the Brown."
"Has it been long since you saw him too?" Bilbo questioned.
Andrea looked sharply at the Hobbit: that wasn't what he was supposed to say.
"Some time, yes," Gandalf replied. "He's a solitary sort of person, preferring the company of animals to that of people. He keeps a watchful eye on the vast forest lands to the east– and a good thing, too. For always evil will seek to find a foothold in this world."
No, no, damn. Her question had disrupted things, had changed the conversation from the path it had taken in the movie.
But not entirely, some part of Andrea's mind said. It came back around in the end, if her memory served her right. But she couldn't be sure– she hadn't watched the first movie in a while, barely remembered any specific dialogue beyond generalities. Would she know if she changed things further?
Such thoughts consumed Andrea until late afternoon. The rain had stopped, and they'd come from the edge of the forest to find a ruined homestead in a rocky, hillocked clearing.
Thorin turned his pony and addressed the Company. "We'll camp here for the night," he declared.
The Company set about doing as told with all the speed of a mediocrely-oiled and rather road-weary machine.
Andrea remembered this part of the movie with relative clarity. Certainly enough to know that this was where the trolls came in.
One part of her wanted to try and put a stop to camping here, just so they could avoid the peril of being kidnapped and eaten by trolls. But if they didn't, would they find the troll hole? The one filled with a chest of gold that Bilbo would bring home, the small Elf-made sword he would give to Frodo. If they didn't find that, what then? Would they even pass by Rivendell? What more consequences would come from one change to the storyline?
Andrea hopped off her pony and immediately forgot about her dilemma when her body reminded her that it wasn't pregnant and was thus shoving all its baby-making materials out in a huff. Holding tight to her pony's saddle with one hand, Andrea doubled over and pressed a hand to her lower belly.
"God, what I wouldn't give for ibuprofen." Andrea waited for the pain to subside and straightened up. She heard Thorin giving orders.
"Fili, Kili," he said, "Look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them."
"Yes, uncle," the princes replied, twin looks of resignation on their faces.
Kili walked over to Andrea, holding out a hand. "I'll take that from you, miss," he said, smiling.
Andrea let him take her pony's halter and lead the quiet creature away. She heard Thorin telling Oin and Gloin to get a fire going, and turned to see Gloin beckoning her over. She picked her way past a hillock of grass and over to the two Dwarves.
From the ruins of the house came Gandalf's voice. "I think it would be wiser to move on."
Andrea bent to pull up the wiry grass where Oin indicated, clearing a space for a fire. She tilted her head to Gandalf, watching as Thorin approached the wizard under the shadows of the broken timbers.
"We could make for the Hidden Valley," said Gandalf, quiet to Andrea's ears.
Thorin's reply was too quiet to hear, but the bite in his tone was unmistakable. Then they both walked too far away for Andrea to hear them, leaving her to help Oin and Gloin make the fire and try to remember how that conversation had gone.
It had been Gandalf trying to convince Thorin to get Elrond to read the map, hadn't it? Thorin said no, of course. Pride is common to all races, Andrea thought.
And Thorin was particularly salty about Elves. Andrea couldn't blame him, sort of. Watching someone turn their back on you was painful, even if they'd done it knowing they couldn't have saved you.
She didn't know if the Elvenking had extended aid to the survivors of Smaug's destruction, though. It wouldn't have hurt him any to do so.
Andrea didn't know a lot of things, she was beginning to realize.
A/N: so maybe writing several paragraphs dedicated to Boromir's story is a bit much but I love him and Faramir so...
Thank you sj65 for reviewing, and thank you very much to A5mia for reviewing each chapter as you read, it was incredibly encouraging :D All reviews are good reviews! Thanks for reading :))