The next day was spent much like the previous; exploring the Last Homely House and eating their fill and restoring their provisions and equipment. Andrea got her own clothes back, as well as another set, newer and cleaner, which she was told was a gift from Lady Gilraen, Estel's mother.
"She thanks you for indulging her son," said the Elleth who handed the clothes over– the same one who had shown Andrea to the baths two days ago.
"It would be difficult not to indulge him," Andrea replied, receiving a smile in response.
The clothing was not unlike the set she already owned: trousers, stockings, a tunic, boots, gloves, even a fresh, new cloak. Far too generous a gift for simply giving attention to a child. They were cut from cloth woven in the Elvish way, but sewn in a style that was unmistakably Mannish. Andrea was grateful for that; she did not want to stand out by wearing Elvish clothing.
They prepared to leave the next morning, before the sun rose, and with it the Elvish household. Andrea dressed in her new clothes, pulled on her new boots, and packed away all her things. The sky was dark, still, though the horizon was beginning to lighten. She made her way out into the main hall, where the Dwarves had gathered, sorting out their things so that each carried his own load.
Andrea accepted the wrapped, dried meats and fruits that she was to carry in her pack. She squatted on her heels, fitting the food into her pack. A familiar coat broached the edge of her vision, and she sat back to meet Thorin's gaze.
"You are coming with us, then," he said, expression unreadable.
"I think that should be obvious."
They hadn't spoken since Balin had written up Andrea's contract, and she, Thorin, and Balin had signed it. The previous day had been spent entertaining Estel, with the aid of Fili, Kili, and Ori, who answered the boy's questions far more readily than Thorin had. Fili even employed Estel's aid in sharpening the sword Andrea had been given in the troll-hole.
"He's good at it," Fili had said, wearing a wide, indulgent smile.
Thorin grunted and cut a brief, curt nod. "Good," he said enigmatically, before turning on his heel and walking away.
After making sure all straps were fastened and no sock or glove had been left behind, the Company set out. They were surprisingly silent, making their way along the bridges and pathways of Rivendell.
They had nearly reached the bridge which would take them across to the valley's edge when a voice called out, soft but insistent, "Wait!"
The Company halted in its tracks. Andrea turned to see Estel running towards them, barefoot, still in his nightclothes. In the watery light of early morning, he looked almost like a ghost, or an angel.
Andrea stepped out to meet him, stumbling slightly when he threw himself at her. Small arms wrapped tightly about her waist, clinging.
"You're leaving!" Estel looked up at Andrea with large, watery eyes. "Without saying goodbye!"
Andrea glanced back at Thorin, who scowled but nodded. Extricating herself from Estel's arms, Andrea knelt down, slightly unsteady for the weight of her pack.
"I am sorry, Estel," she said, taking both the boy's hands in her own. "I thought you would still be sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you."
Estel looked past her at the Company. "Why do you leave so secretly?" he asked.
"The hospitality of your father's house is too rich for us. If we stay any longer, we may never leave at all!" Andrea smiled, and received a shy but bright smile in return. She sighed, and squeezed Estel's hands. "You remember the story I told you, Estel?"
"About the lost king?"
"Yes. Thorin is also a lost king, you see, and the time is right for him to get his kingdom back. But it is going to be very dangerous, and some people, like your father, don't want him to risk- to risk trying."
Those small, soft hands tightened in hers, and Estel frowned. "And that's why this has to be a secret?"
Andrea nodded. "Yes. But I won't ask you to lie to anyone. If anyone asks you where we are, you can tell them that we're gone."
Esel nodded, his expression too solemn for such a young face. "Will I ever see you again?" he asked.
Her mouth twisted into a small, sad smile. "I don't know. I don't know anything, anymore."
Estel's lips pursed miserably, and tears beaded in his eyes as he threw his arms about Andrea's neck. "I'll miss you," he whispered fervently.
Andrea returned the embrace for as long as she could, but soon she had to pull the boy away. Pressing a kiss to his wind-swept curls, she said, "Be a good boy, Estel. Go on, go back to bed."
Wiping his eyes, Estel turned despondently away. Andrea stood, turning back to the Company. Thorin nodded and waved for them to continue on, on and on up to the cliffs and stone that embraced the Valley.
She looked back only once, and saw Estel staring after them, a small, pale figure. Andrea set her gaze resolutely on Nori's back, and hoped that Estel would forget her.
It didn't take long to get back into the rhythms of life on the road. Without ponies, they were stuck traveling on foot; Andrea soon learned endurance. Their days were spent more vigilant, and their nights with more secrecy. The orc attack had left Thorin more wary than usual, which was saying quite a lot. And always, the white-tipped peaks of the Misty Mountains, laid out before them, growing closer every day.
Andrea spent as much time as she could trying to learn how to use a sword. Dwalin and Fili were eager teachers, though the latter was less experienced in the ways of passing on wisdom.
Her whole body ached from walking, from sleeping on the hard ground, and from being beaten black and blue by the flat of Dwalin's blade. He'd recently judged her ready to learn how to combat an opponent using an axe– a judgement that Andrea greatly disagreed with. She could just barely stumble her way through parries and deflections, and offensive moves were only just within her range of skill.
"Your only advantage," Dwalin said, standing tall with a sword in one hand and an axe in the other, "Is that you can be fast if you try. But you aren't trying."
"I am trying!" Andrea sucked in a lungful of cold air, her sword heavy in her hand.
Dwalin shook his head. "You're still too intimidated of your own weapon. It's not a tool, it's an extension of your own arm."
"God, that's so cliche." Andrea sagged for a short moment before gathering herself, resettling her grip about the hilt of her sword. "Maybe I should just cut off my arm and replace it with a sword."
"That's unnecessary," Dwalin grunted, his eyes flashing with wry humor. Then he struck.
Fighting Dwalin was like fighting a heavily armored whirlwind. Andrea hadn't a chance in hell of winning, or even losing with dignity. Dwalin didn't hold back, but he always stopped short of hitting, and every successful parry was met with a nod and a few seconds' reprieve. Still, Andrea felt rather like a mouse being batted about by a cat.
Dwalin's sword came down and, instead of deflecting it as she'd been taught to, Andrea blocked it. Pain lanced down from her wrist to her shoulder, and her hand release the sword at once. The sword fell to the grass, metal singing. Andrea flexed her fingers and articulated her wrist tentatively, hissing through her teeth.
Dwalin fell back, his muscled frame relaxing. "That's enough for today," he said. "Get Oin to wrap that wrist for you." He turned and strode back to the camp. He had barely broken a sweat. Andrea bent to pick up her sword, grimacing as her back protested the movement. With her sword held in her left hand, she trudged after Dwalin.
"I see you have finally joined us," said Kili. He had a rabbit in one hand and a knife in the other. Four more rabbits lay at his feet, strung together by a piece of cord. "How go the lessons, Dwalin?"
"She is learning," Dwalin replied, sitting heavily down on a stone. Andrea followed suit, plucking at her tunic to keep it from sticking to her sweaty skin.
"Dinner's on its way," Kili continued conversationally. "Uncle shot down a pheasant of some kind." He punctuated the words with a nod to Thorin, sitting a few meters away, plucking said bird. "Bifur and Bofur are still out, they'll be back soon."
"Hn." Dwalin took a rabbit from those by Kili's feet. After a moment's pause, he took another one and tossed it into Andrea's lap. She grimaced, and grimaced harder when Dwalin held out a knife to her, hilt forward.
"Better to learn this skill now than later," said Dwalin, glaring sternly.
Lip curling slightly, Andrea took the knife. Getting up from her stone seat, she squatted on her heels and laid the limp, furry body on the rock. Dwalin grunted approvingly.
"You start here," he began, and showed Andrea step by step how to skin and gut the rabbit.
It was distasteful, but not too unpleasant– the same sort of distaste one might have for cleaning out the sink trap. Andrea only barely avoided spoiling the meat by breaking open the intestines; it was only Kili's watchful eye that saved their future meal.
"When we left Rivendell," Kili said conversationally. "You mentioned to the boy a story you told him, about a lost king."
Andrea, having started on her second rabbit, didn't look up. "I did."
"Perhaps you would tell it to us?"
She spared a moment to glance up. "I'm afraid not. It was a story meant only for him, and one only meant to be told once." She bent back over her rabbit, focusing on the angle of her knife.
Kili's voice was full of innocent interest. "Oh? Do you have a special story for each of us, Andrea? Perhaps the craft of a storyteller is not words but prophecy."
"Not prophecy." Andrea paused, and pursed her lips. "One's story can be a comfort, to encourage you. Or a warning." She glanced up. Thorin had finished with the feathers and had moved on to cutting the bird open, his hands bloody. The tilt of his head indicated his listening ears.
Kili smiled slyly. "But you did not answer my question. Do we each have our own story?"
She looked at the young Dwarf. His eyes were bright, as always. "Some of you do," she said after a moment of thought. "I think after a while I'll remember a story for each of you."
"Do I have one?"
"I don't know yet," Andrea replied. She studied the Dwarf prince, giving him a smile when he quirked a brow quizzically. Kili and Fili's stories would always go together, she knew, their fates intertwined past death, until the world became new.
Kili lifted his knife, slightly bloodstained, and said triumphantly, "Ah! But you said some of us do have stories. Who are they? Fili? Dwalin? Uncle?"
"Bilbo has a story to hear. So does Thorin. But it isn't time to tell them yet."
"I don't think I believe you when you say your wordcraft is not prophecy." Kili flashed a wide, teasing grin. "Or perhaps it is the intuition of a woman."
"Perhaps."
oOo
They passed by a stream a couple days later. It was a blessing to find, and a relief to bathe in.
Andrea wrung the water from her hair, leaning over the narrow channel. Just around the bend, over a clump of rocks and boulders, came the sounds of those men of the Company. Idly, and with some amusement, Andrea wondered if Gandalf ever needed to bathe.
She decided not to dwell on the image.
Leaning a little further out, Andrea twisted water droplets from her hair. They fell and disturbed her reflection in the rippling waters. Throwing her hair over her shoulder, Andrea braced her hands on the stony bank. She frowned at her reflection, which frowned contortedly back at her. She couldn't make out details, not like she might with a proper mirror, but there was no doubting the femininity of her face.
Was there some way to hide it? Some way of braiding her hair to disguise the curve of her face, the line of her jaw and chin. Perhaps some form of makeup, or camouflage, to hide her womanness.
Her breasts, at least, would be no trouble to hide. A few strips of cloth to bind them, loosely but securely, enough to breathe and enough to hide the curves beneath her loose clothing. Her old clothes would serve the purpose well enough.
"Will you stare at your reflection forever, woman?"
Andrea jolted. "Thorin!" She looked at the Dwarf Lord, standing by the pile of boulders. He wasn't wearing his coat or armor, and he looked odd without them. Surprise faded to indignance. "I could have been naked," Andrea said waspishly, getting to her feet. Her clothes stuck in places where her skin was still damp.
"No one remains vulnerable for long in the wild lands," Thorin replied evenly. "I did not think you vain, however, though you seemed intent on your reflection."
"I was only thinking." Andrea picked her way along the bank of the stream. The stones crunched under her boots.
"You do that often."
Andrea frowned at Thorin, trying to gauge the intent of his words. His expression, however, was unreadable.
She took a breath. "Dwarven women are hidden yes? To some cultures, they are little more than myth."
Thorin's brows furrowed. He crossed his arms over his chest. "That's correct."
"Do they have some way of appearing more masculine? Some manner of cut or braid for their hair and beards?" She didn't have a beard. For the first time in her life, she almost wanted one.
Realization dawned in Thorin's eyes. Lips pursed, he nodded. "There are ways, yes. With no beard, you would seem only boyish."
"That'll have to be enough."
Thorin took a breath, then let it out in a heavy sigh. "I do not know the braids they use, but Gloin should. His wife is among the best traders in the Blue Mountains, and she goes often into the lands of Men."
"Then I'll ask him." Andrea made to walk past Thorin, to the campsite, but paused. "Why did you come looking for me?"
Thorin's frown deepened. "You are in my Company. I would not risk the waters sweeping you away."
Andrea laughed. "A joke, my lord Dwarf? Next I expect you to sing some song happier than the dirges you prefer."
Thorin's scowl did not decrease, but his eyes flashed with humor. "In time, perhaps." He turned on his heel, the dirt and stone of the ground grinding under his heavy boot. "Come, dinner will not wait for us."
Andrea followed behind, her laughter already forgotten. She looked up at the Misty Mountains, closer than before and more intimidating.
Times like these, when she remembered what lay ahead, Andrea wished she did not love the Durinsons so much. But the thought of seeing Kili grey and bloody, Fili faded and empty… it did not give her courage, but perhaps… determination.
A/N: first, a thank you for the reviews! Medusa101, yours was the one that finally pushed me to finish this chapter :)) thank you to The Butterfly Defect, Jinx1223, PadfootFanatic, guest, sasha. sr1, A5mia, Kilataia, and Kelwtim2spar for your reviews, they are wonderful to read.
I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I hit a snag, and got distracted by other things, and struck writer's block. I think I'm mostly out of it now, but updates will probably be slower. (There was a 2 week gap between writing the first half of the chapter and the last, past the oOo, you can probably tell because of how the writing style changed subtly)