And So Died All Warriors

by Miss Always Wrong

Meri and Aleksi were in some serious trouble. They were the only ones who knew why they were brought there and what was expected of them. All the odds were against them, the dwarves didn't trust them and Thorin wanted them permanently gone from his sight. Danger was ahead and people were going mad. And Meri-, Meri seriously was in need of a drink. M-RATED. First chapters edited

4. Chapter 3

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Chapter 3 - Of Bitterness and Burdens

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Thorin knew he was fortunate. After all, he was blessed with rich inheritance and the royal blood running in his veins. He was blessed with his family and the great legacy promised to him when he was born. Life had blessed him with various luxuries and assets - things that an average dwarf wouldn't even dare to dream to have. His standing was more than worthy, undoubtedly very unjust but nevertheless a great advantage for him. And that was a fact he could not deny. Yet. Yet, as much as he was blessed he was also burdened - burdened with the duty his blood tied him into and with the high expectations his people had of him. They sought impossible from him, they wanted a rescuer, a knight in a shining armor. A hero. Someone who could stop all wrong and return the wealth and glory back to Durin's name. They wanted him to be grand, and glorious, and invincible. An immortal fighter and a great King who would safe them all and restore the Lonely Mountain to its people.

Thorin didn't know how. A king's descendant he might have been but even the rich royal blood in his veins couldn't fight off a dragon alone. He wasn't that almighty and fearsome. He wasn't what his people wanted him to be. He couldn't be. He was just a dwarf same as any other, with real aging flesh and bones and a mortal life that would come to an end at some point. He was a normal person who got exhausted same as anyone else. He couldn't do it all by himself, not even if he wanted to. Yet the expectations were high and well it was known that dwarves were stubborn folk to let anyone or anything change their beliefs. There was only little Thorin could do or say to that. A salvation he must be to his people.

There was just a little 'but' in all that hero act. The inevitable truth was that Thorin was getting old. He was no young dwarf anymore, he knew this and was well aware of that others around him knew it as well. He was getting older and-, he grimaced at the idea, -weaker. His body was still powerful as ever. He was strong and hardy, and had a good stamina. But how long would that last? How many good years would still be ahead? This whole aging thing was just a real inconvenience for Thorin. A daily reason for his headaches. For he could already notice changes in him that he had well missed before – how sore his muscles were after training, how his back and joints ached after long rides, how his wounds tended to take longer to heal and above all, how bad his eyesight had become over the years.

Poor eyesight was common for dwarves as their folk mostly lived in darker places, well hidden from daylight and the sun. Dwarven people spent their days inside stone walls, only to be surrounded by gentle flickers of torch light and the rich glow of the golden walls all around them. Their eyes were sensitive to the sun and the blinding brightness it brought. The older a dwarf got, the worse his eyesight turned until it was gone altogether. Poor eyesight was just one part of a dwarven anatomy, just as was their short height and sturdy bones. Blindness was a sad but inevitable fate for some, and Thorin unfortunately belonged to that bunch. He had known this for as long as he could remember because his vision had always been that of a shit one. Even as a young lad the accuracy of his far-sight was much more hazier than other boys his age, and more than once did he cause nothing but embarrassing disasters during his training in archery, leaving him quite determined to avoid holding arrows and bows in his hands again. After the day he almost got fried by the dragon's fire, his eyesight had been growing alarmingly dull with each passing year. Thorin could already tell that if by any luck he ever managed to surpass the age of 250, his sight would be thoroughly gone and he would live whatever years he had in complete pitch darkness. That was another hard-ass fact he couldn't change even if he wanted to and so had just learned to accept and deal with.

Still, before he allowed himself to submit to such a fate of turning into an old blind bat of a dwarf, he had to finish what had started in his younger days and take back his crown. For his people's sake. For Durin's folk. For his family. For all those who were dead. For himself. The time was here. He had to seize this chance, march back to Erebor, and... Well, wish for the best. He needed to do it. There was a pressing urge in his bones that he needed to hurry up and have it done and over with before something awful had a chance to happen. Before he got too old, too blind or, in the most realistic case, too dead to go for it. He was well aware of the nice prize tag on his head and the very real risk of a bunch of hit men coming at him at any public place he showed his face at, but he was too stubborn to let himself be killed before seeing the grand halls of his beloved Lonely Mountain once more. He had sworn in the name of his honor, in the name of his dead family members and in the name of Mahal himself that death wouldn't have him. Not before he had his Mountain back. And his throne. And the King's jewel. And all the Durin-damned treasure around it.

Perhaps Thorin was too stubborn to die or perhaps it was just luck that had saved him so many times from the clutches of death, but that didn't mean he hadn't lost others around him. Call it a curse, call it his own imagination, or something in between, but Thorin was sure he had the presence of death hovering constantly over him like a dark cloud. A dark fog that had him surrounded at all sides, something that at times would dissolve and fade, but never fully disappear from his life. And always, always, when he least expected, it came back with the rage of a storm, giving him nasty reminders of the claim it had on him. Like a jealous husband, death controlled his life and never let him breath easy or be unguarded. Never gave him the chance to escape and reach out for something better. Death left him with dark thoughts and poisonous feelings, and eventually with a bunch of lifeless people at his feet. Thorin was bitter. So, so very bitter and he had no need to deny this. Such was the way he had grown to be, always surrounded by pain and loss.

Thorin had lost much during his life. More than he wanted to admit to himself or to others. Life had taken one grand fall into an endless pit after the fateful day when Erebor was lost to the dragon. Nothing had gone right after that. The Mountain was taken with the treasures inside it, the Arkenstone buried somewhere among them, along with the throne he was promised to have one day. Then, when aid was most needed with his people, the elves of Mirkwook ignored their pleas of help, refused to take any part of their misfortune and so breaking the trust and long-lasted alliance between dwarves and elves all over the Middle Earth. Thorin had been robbed and cheated out of his intended future, tossed and thrown around duties he had no previous experience of, forced to work like a slave and fight like a barbarian for his people's sake. He had been manipulated, used and lied to. Being given responsibilities beyond measure and forbid to show signs of weakness. He had lost people, his goddamn precious people, to all possible kind of deaths. Friends, family. His grandfather he lost to the dirty hands of an enemy orc. His father he lost to an unknown faith at the very same day. And his little brother-.

Dear Mahal, Frerin...

The battle of Azanulbizar had broken his entire family in so many ways. The line of Durin had almost perished at the end of that fateful day, right at those cursed gates of Moria. Countless other dwarves lied dead there too. Brave warriors who died for nothing. Soldiers who followed the demand of their King who was out his mind, still grieving over the fresh lost of his Mountain and, of course, the Arkenstone. Thorin's grandfather.

Frerin wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place. Thrór himself had forbid his youngest grandchild from taking arms and fight - and that itself was a miracle because the King was more than mentally unstable and paid no interest in anything other but 'getting back what was rightfully his'. Frerin had been much too young still, barely even reached his teens yet. He had been a child still. He didn't have the skills, he didn't have the needed experience to join that battle. Yet, there he had been and Thorin had known of it. There he had been and there he had remained. The child who was lost near the side-boards, abandoned to fight the enemy with only few loyal dwarves by his side. The mere thought of it was sickening. It made Thorin sick.

Before getting into the death of the youngest sibling of Durin's royal family, first one would have to know of the fact that grown dwarves seldom shed tears. Homes could be lost, families ripped apart and death loom all around, and yet this stocky-build, short and hairy folk wouldn't necessarily feel any sort of physical urge to show their sorrow by leaking salty liquid from their eyes. Grief and heartache were often demonstrated by other means, both physically and mentally. Usually crying was something of a last resort thing to do, or then left completely for the children. Of course, this didn't mean that the adults were completely incapable of shedding tears nor that they understood any differently the actual need to cry. Neither did it mean that when shit started hitting the fan, they had no urges to throw huge emotional fits to solve the situation. No. It only meant they chose not to do so. They were proud folk and couldn't bear the thought of showing this sort of a vulnerability to the world around them. Tears were a clear sign of weakness. Revealing weakness lead to dying. Crying meant giving up. Giving up was not in the dwarvish nature.

Thorin didn't cry when Erebor was lost nor when the elves betrayed them. He didn't shed tears for his grandfather whose head was cut off right in his sight, nor for his father who went after the said enemy and was never seen again after the battle of Azanulbizar. Thorin had lived through some pretty catastrophic moments. He had seen death face to face and walked through roads of blood and shit up to his knees, and he had lived on to tell those tales with dry eyes. But there was always a certain breaking point for everyone. A point that did the impossible. One that managed to slither like a slimy snake beyond that solid steel-wall that hid people's emotions only to create a huge emotional blast there. To cause chaos, panic and disorder. This point existed for everyone, no exceptions given, not even for royal dwarves.

Thorin found his own breaking point once his soldiers lead him through the masses of corpses at gates of Moria, to the dead cold body of his younger brother, one who was practically the baby of his family, still highly treasured and guarded. A baby that was dirty and bloodied and resting in an awkward position with his dark hair splattered all over the bloody ground. That was the point when time and place froze around Thorin. Nothing moved or made sound as the crown prince of Erebor stared at what had become of his younger sibling. His sword, as grime-coated and bloody as the rest of him, fell from his hands with a thud, breaking the silence surrounding him and making the moment real again.

Tears began to pour down Thorin's cheeks and jaw, heavy and hot on his dirt-matted skin as if the flow them could wash away the awful image of his precious younger brother lying in front of him in a puddle of his own blood. Lifeless Durin blue eyes were still open and staring at the ground in front of Thorin's feet. The freshly made King Under the Mountain felt a burn hotter than the dragon's fire in his chest as he collapsed next to his dead broken brother and cried and held him against himself, praying Mahal and all the Valar to have mercy and give him back his Frerin. For hours Thorin mourned, clutching to his brother like a child to his parents, pressing their foreheads together with a devastated need all while giving pleads for Mahal to give back his Frerin or to take him instead. For hours he clutched and wailed and begged, for so long he no longer had the strength to keep himself awake and no longer had a voice to speak. Then when all had been said and done, he closed his eyes and for the last time in his life fell unconscious with Frerin near him.

Mahal remained silent and unresponsive to his pleas. He took Frerin into his halls that day. Permanently away from Thorin and from the long happy lives they should have had if only the dragon had never come to take the Mountain from them. That day, guilt and the shame of failing to protect his brother burned a hole in Thorin's heart, leaving an open scar that still even to this day ached like freshly made. And it was a good thing it ached for he wanted it to hurt. Wanted to be in pain for the rest of his life, just like he deserved to. As a punishment for letting Frerin get killed. For letting down every single one of Durin's folk.

The ghosts of his past and all the darkness and misery and death he had seen haunted him in his dreams and nightmares almost nightly. He woke up in the middle of most nights, gasping for air and covered in cold sweat, with his heart racing like a madman inside his chest. 'Nightly panic attacks', Óin had told him when he had asked for a relief to these nightmares. 'These happen more than often with seasoned warriors, lad. Unfortunately no healing ointment can cure these wounds of mind.' Talking could help. Sharing your feelings could help. But Thorin didn't know how and to who he could share his dark thoughts. Instead he grew reluctant going to sleep at all and eventually allowed himself to have light rest for few hours each night. He preferred this rather than falling into a deep slumber that gave the chance for the dreams to terrorize him. But the lack of sleep he denied himself from put his body into a constant state of stress and it strained more than he ever could have imagined. Eventually that lead to new kind of problems. Serious problems. With an alarm, Thorin later realized that whatever evil he had managed to intentionally block from his dreams and nightmares, only followed him now when he was wide awake too.

The scary truth was, only short after Frerin had turned into stone, Thorin began to doubt his own sanity. He dared not to speak it out loud, not even to his closest companions, but inside he was deeply unnerved and feared what was happening to him. He feared he was going mad.

Because madness ran in his veins...

For as good as he was to hide the distraught of his mind and the fucked up things he was sure to witness around him, yet sometimes… Sometimes he had to admit it to himself that he wasn't completely sure what was real and what was imaginary. Sometimes, he was sure, he was so sure, he could see unnerving things around him. Shadows that kept following him. Sounds of footsteps right behind him. Most unnerving were the hazy faces smiling at him when he walked through big crowds, too far for him to reach and too in the middle of people for him to call. And yet, with wicked smiles they would beckon him to come to them, come, come, come, to take their hands, to let them lead him. If he followed and tried to catch up with them, to close the distance and demand an explanation, they would only run away from him, easily slipping through the crowds with an echo of laughter following them and then disappear into thin air.

Also, there were times when, he swore, he could hear familiar voices whispering into his ears. Softly and kindly at first, caressing his hearing and playing around with a child-like innocent that melted his heart with the strange familiarity it had. And just as he would let out a sigh of ease and relief, the tune took a rapid change, letting awful ears-hurting shrieks as if someone was dying, and then the words would turn cold and hard, like hisses of snakes and growls of beasts, accusing and demanding and blaming, cursing and abusing, telling him to confess all his sins and failures to them, ordering him to let go of his darkest thoughts, wanting to humiliate him, wishing pain and hurt to him, desiring for him to suffer and suffer and suffer. And suffer he did. In silence and alone. For who could he dare to speak of the things that went inside his head? Who would listen without thinking he was going crazy? There was an ongoing battle inside Thorin's mind, one that raged all along and tore him into pieces little by little without anyone knowing or seeing it in him. Without anyone helping him. Even Thorin himself was unsure who the opposite sides were and who he was meant to support, which one was his friend and which one his foe. It was a torment.

The inner war and the state of Thorin's mental health was a sad tragedy in itself, but the overall condition and health of his body was not doing much better. Aside from the disaster he had for eyeballs, his body was quite something to take in as well. Like all seasoned warriors who had seen their fair share of near death experiences, his body was a ripped canvas with countless scars. He had them with all colors and shapes, just like a bad painting of some sort, on his back, front, arms and legs, all those marks of hard training and battles and hardships. Some were smaller and lighter, others were bigger and deeper, while others… had a class of their own and just downright refused to heal completely. Now, Thorin wasn't much interested in the way he looked, never put much thought and effort in his appearance except for the overall tidiness and, of course, his hair and beard. He wasn't so vain to feel troubled over a few scars on his body, and truth to say, the main cause of most of his unevenly healed scars was he himself and the stubborn unwillingness he had for letting a healer to have a look of him. No, the scars didn't bother him with the way they looked, but what did bother him, was that the burns he received from the dragon on the day Erebor was lost, at times, almost daily, those scars on his right side still pained him greatly. They ached. They burned. And demanded attention. As if his skin was still on fire and burning deeper and deeper into his flesh. It was more than an unpleasant issue to deal with but Thorin dealt with it, because that was what he did. He dealt with these scars on his outside and inside, as well as with shit just happening to him.

If there was something Thorin could rely on, it was the certainty that shit happened to him on regular basis. The main reason he was so bitter was because his life surely wasn't what he had thought it would have been. It hadn't been what it should have been. He should have had more. He knew it deep inside him. He should have been more than an exiled dwarf prince. Everything inside him screamed that. He wanted to be more. He wanted it so bad, that in those occasional times when he did decide to close his eyes and seek for the longed-for sleep, if his dreams weren't plagued by nightmares and horrible memories, he saw himself in the life he should have had. Living the royal life as the golden prince of Erebor. As the heir of his grandfather's throne and as the mighty King of the Lonely Mountain. And as a grandson of a dwarf King without the gold-sickness. As the eldest son of a father who never went missing. As an older brother of two loving siblings instead of one. And as an uncle surrounded by many dwarflings - strong nephews and beautiful nieces of various ages, with the familiarities of either Dís or Frerin.

And… if Thorin really lost his head in his thoughts, in the deepest and most secret part of his dreams, he dared to dream himself holding a baby dwarfling in his arms. A small precious treasure with hair black as the night and eyes pale blue and shining like the clearest sapphires under a torchlight. A blessing that lived and breathed and moved in his arms. Something of his own flesh and blood. Something that he had helped to create. Something of him. In this specific dream scenario, he held the sleeping babe close to his heart, smelling the scent of something of purely his, and felt a warm presence of someone right next to him, leaning into him, breathing into his ear, sharing the same love towards the small bundle of miracle that rested in his strong arms. He felt contented. He felt full. He was... at peace. And so full of tenderness and love.

But, if his nightmares left him breathless, twitching in pain and covered in cold-sweat on his bed, it was after these dreams that he truly felt like being suffocated. Like his heart was getting pierced through and slowly bleeding empty. He could feel it in his chest, his heart twisting and turning in its place. In agony and torment, tormenting him with the rough, primal need of wanting, and wanting, and wanting. So desperately yearning for something he knew very well he could never have. It made him jealous and bitter. So, so very bitter that even at times he disgusted himself with the amount of pettiness he felt for his poor little self. Because only pathetic people would sink so low to do that. Only self-centered people pitied themselves. And he sure as hell did his best to hide these ugly traits from the rest of the world. He hid so much of himself from others.

Because of this, some said Thorin had no capability of feeling kind emotions anymore. That he could only understand grim and dark feelings, only being able to hate and loath and, and be so thoroughly bitter. They whispered with hushed words behind his back, judged him even though they knew nothing of him. Called him by names. That he was dreary and a stone-heart. They said he was already turned into stone with the way he acted. They said that he wasn't alive anymore, but already cold and dead inside. That his body just hadn't yet caught the hint, not yet realized it should stop moving already. They said there was no other dwarf as grim as him. That even though he was greatly respected and looked up to, they still feared for the day he would have his Kingdom and the power to rule. They spoke of him in such way because they were scared of him and of the things he would do.

Thorin understood and could somewhat accept this. People were afraid of him even back in the days when the Mountain was still held by the Durin. It was the way he was born-, his father had long ago told him, -this royal trait he had inherited from his ancestors that made people fear and respect him. It wasn't necessarily anything personal against him, just the way things were, just the way his whole being screamed of importance and demanded people to stay put and get the fuck out of his way. People were afraid of him and Thorin had no intentions of changing that. It was good that they grew silent around him, that while his own folk supported him in his efforts, they also didn't dare to come too close to him. That way, they unintentionally gave him room to breathe. Thorin liked it that way. He wasn't interested in changing his image or to get the public to adore him. He didn't need to have a lot people in his inner circle, he already had the ones he wanted and trusted and that was all he required.

Stone-heart they said he was but as dark as Thorin might have been, he wasn't any crueler living being than the dwarf next to him. It was ridiculous even for him to hear that people actually thought of such things, that he actually wasn't able to feel nothing but hate and anger all the time. Ridiculous-, he had conversed with his old friend Balin many times, -for if his impassive face alone was the cause of such rumors, he would have liked to hear what had been said of his dear grandfather back in the days. The last King under the Lonely Mountain, whose impressively wide sneer was so legendarily characteristic to him that even Thorin himself had thought for many years it was permanently stuck on his face. Although well past 200 years, the dwarf stirred fear inside his enemies and friends likewise with only one simple glance, not even trying, and that itself was a feat to accomplish. He was at least twice as scary than what Thorin's father had been, making it impossible for Thorin himself to even try to catch up with him. In a way, he would have enjoyed to hear the stories people had of Thrór and Thráin. He really would have liked to hear the false gossips and mockery of them, like he heard of himself, just to have some peer support, to have something, even something little, to connect himself to his perished family members. As silly as it was, he kind of was proud to bear the same frightening traits as his ancestors.

Yet still, unlike the public opinion, Thorin could actually feel feelings just as well as anyone else. He was no stranger to them even though many wouldn't have guessed so with his stern face and unkind words. He could appreciate life and the little sparks of beauty in it. Of course he could appreciate it, and also feel the joy and affection it brought, even feel love. In his younger days, in the time before the dragon, he was actually very much open with the love he felt. He showed it to the person near him with easy-going smiles and deep laughter, and sometimes even with clear gestures of affection. Though, those were the days he was still naught but a child and knew only little of the real world. Today the softer side of him was tightly smothered and closed off from the public. Rarely would he feel so at ease to let it surface and when he would, it was only for his closest family and kin. For those he held important and who he trusted. For those he wanted to keep safe. For those he loved.

Thorin eyed the dwarves sitting in his table, not really listening what they were conversing about. He let his gaze travel from one member to another, carefully searching and memorizing the features of each and one of them. Soft blue eyes moved from Ori, the youngest and inexperienced and no doubt most treasured among them, to the oldest and wisest, his most trusted and loyal friend Balin. He saw twelve of them. Twelve-, he promised to himself, -who, once he had his throne, he would ensure to live like royals for the rest of their lives. Thorin would keep each and one of them close by his side when ruling. He would keep them well-fed, rich and respected among others, but most of all, safe inside the Mountain. As soon as he was able, he would take care of them and show them the kind of loyalty they had given to him. For only they had come. Only they had chosen to be by his side.

The journey Thorin was about to lead was dangerous. Mad even. He knew the risks well. He hadn't spent countless restless nights pondering over it for nothing. He knew danger was ahead. Possibly even death. He knew. Would he loose these dwarves around him? Thorin swallowed with difficulty at the thought, letting his heavy eyes rest on the heads of his nephews. 'So young still…' Too young to die. 'As had Frerin been.' The image of his teen-age brother lying on the dark ground surrounded by his own blood with an orc blade sticking through his torso flashed through Thorin's eyes. Would he now lose the dwarlings he had raised together with his sister as well?

'I will not.' Thorin clenched his jaw, eyes still on Fili and Kili as he made another silent promise to himself. 'The line of Durin will not fall. There will be a son of my family to rule the Mountain once more. Dís will have someone to come back to.' Even if it meant the death of Thorin himself, he would see that at least one of the princes survived to take the crown, at least one of them would live on. The importance of their survival knew no limits to him, easily even overlooking few moral and sane lines. That was the way he loved – selfish, overly rough and with a firm will of mind. Perhaps it was an unhealthy way to love indeed, but just as absolute and true. His love was fierce and unyielding, his care almost too pressing and obsessive. Thorin was a born head of the family, the caretaker, and once he had something he cherished, he sooner went to war than lost it. He would kill or be killed to protect what was his. And Fili and Kili had always been his. Always. They had been his ever since he had first laid his eyes on them as newborn babes.

It wasn't only his nephews but Thorin cared for his company too - this he had already acknowledged and accepted as a plain fact. Though he admitted, at first it had been hard to realize because before there had been only a few he had allowed himself to feel so protective of, and frankly, it scared him to think he was responsible of all their fates. He would lead and as loyal as these dwarves were, they would simply follow him, blindly, and with a trust so strong it was touching. For they knew too that they would either be victorious in the end, or then continue their journey to the halls of Mahal. It had been difficult for Thorin to accept this. To accept that these dwarves respected him so much that they were willing to die just to have the opportunity to follow him and help him with his goal. To have back the home they once had.

Thorin's eyes softened as he let his gaze travel around the table once more. Yes, no matter what the whispers were behind his back, he was not a stone-heart or dead inside. He cared for his company and would try his hardest to get them all alive and in one piece to the end of this adventure. He would give them the home they so desperately sought for. He would give them so much more than that. So, so much more, as soon as he was just able to.

The pale blue eyes of the dwarf leader found the backs of the two men-children that had given him one fierce headache pounding inside his skull - with only the short period of time he had known them. Just like that, the softness in his eyes hardened into a distasteful scowl and his mind turned sour as he watched them hunch their heads together a few tables away from the company, deep in a private conversation that only added Thorin's dislike of them.

After Thorin had ordered Balin to create a contract for the Dreamers, the human duo had agreed to it, and then quickly excused themselves, moving further away from the company to talk to each other in what seemed to be a hushed argument - one that managed to light Gandalf's eyes in a scary kind of amusement. Thorin didn't like all that secrecy in the air and he certainly didn't like the two strangers that were the cause of it all. He simply just didn't like them nor would he ever learn to. To him, the Dreamers would forever remain outsiders and strangers, and those unworthy of his attention or efforts. He would never like them. He would never trust them. He would never accept them into his company.

Thorin would never allow himself to care for outsiders. These children of men would always be nothing to him.

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"This-," Meri gestured towards the dwarves and then to themselves, "-did not go as planned. Not at all," the girl sighed out miserably and looked away from Aleksi with a defeated expression on her face. With the corner of her eye, she could see some of the dwarves stealing curious looks of her and Aleksi while discussing with each other in an obvious gossip-kind of way, but at that moment Meri felt too distracted with her own frustrations to take any care of what they might have been talking of. Probably nothing nice anyway so why bother herself.

"He was way more hateful towards me than you! Unbelievable! He... he accepted you more easily! How come that's fair when first of all you were god knows where, taking your own sweet time playing your stupid Casanova card on some poor defenseless girl, and only then, when it happened to suit your own self-centered ass, did you show up here! Much too late and with an attitude of a total prick! And it's me who Thorin decides to pick on! Just-, what? Don't tell me, is this one of those bro-things between men that I just don't understand! 'Burden!' he says! Burden, Aleksi! Stars! This is-, it's just ridiculous! I bet my ass it's all because my gender and size, am I right? It's all because my gender and size, isn't it!? There's nothing I can do to my gender and size, for fuck's sake!"

Aleksi, already having his own emotions in control (just like it was common for him to heat up in one second and calm down the next) let the girl rage on in front of him, her eyes wide and lit like two blue torches in the dim tavern as her hands flew wildly around to demonstrate how offended she felt. The blond man wanted nothing more than leave her complaining little ass behind him, walk back to that table full of dwarves he had dreamed for two long years and finally have a good long look of each of their faces now that he had his chance to do so. Maybe grab a few ales with them, share some stories, have a good laugh, but-, he sighed and prepared himself to deal with the little girl-bear in front of him. He had this cursed soft spot for Meri, always had had, and it bothered him to see her in such a state of mind when the cause of it wasn't he himself. If he left the girl there like this, it would spoil the rest of his night to know that he hadn't comforted her at a time when he was needed.

"Without a doubt it's all because of your gender and size, it always is. I mean, look at yourself, you're a ridiculous little thing," the man then answered without a beat and made a face to her before pulling the unamused girl into a one armed cheerful embrace, their backs turned at the company so that the sight of them couldn't distract his mind. "C'mon now, Baby Bear, you know better than to mind him. The dwarf's just old and grumpy and you just happened to stand out from the rest of us, that's all. You'll show just how much of a burden you'll be. You'll show him and that group of little henchmen, right?" The man nudged the girl playfully with his hip, seeking for a quirk of lips from her.

Aleksi, not that surprisingly, was one of those people who was naturally just really bad at dealing with heavy emotions - his own or anyone else's - and used his humor to escape those sort of situations. Life was much more easier and simpler for him when he didn't have to bother his head with sullen thoughts and deep unwanted feelings that tended to immediately flare up his anxiety and make a human ruin out of him. Smiles, on the other hand, were easy for him. Making a fool out of himself was easy for him. Playing and joking around was too damn easy for him. But talking about sad and heavy stuff… not so easy.

"Hey…" the man whined a little and nudged the girl more with his hip, "Cheer up now. Don't be like that. Your depressed face is pretty goddamn awful to look at. I hate to see how that frown twists your face like that. You look like a damn grim reaper, girl. Very much not appealing thing to see right now. The only thing worse would be if you were actually crying right now. With your tears and snot running all over the place," the man actually shuddered at the thought, "That's a pretty bad sight for a simple man as me to behold, you know that."

Meri frowned even harder, wondering just what was the reason why she put up with the stupid man in the first place. She hadn't cried in ages and Aleksi should know that too. She wasn't about to do so now either. As if she was about to cry just because the dwarf King didn't like her or the way that she looked. She already knew very well beforehand that he would be against having her and Aleksi with the company. She had had her time to prepare for this. She had had time to get used to the idea of someone sneering at her in such a way. She wouldn't cry. Or course not. 'But why does it still sting so much?'

"Look, Meri," Aleksi groaned out once noticing how the silent moment seemed to grow longer and longer. He put both of his hands on her shoulders and trapped her to look at him alone, "If you didn't happen to notice, I wasn't exactly thrilled of him either, nor he of me. Our personalities are sure to collide with a bang. I can already see a huge-ass shit storm approaching us in the near future. It's only the matter of a time and a place when someone's going to explode in a rather nasty way. But that's still somewhere ahead, and meanwhile, we'll just have to remember where we stand right now. We finally got to meet these dwarves. They're here and that's what matters the most now, right? Wasn't that what we promised to each other? This crap is starting now and we're getting it done with, and then hopefully we'll finally be freed from this whole fucking nightmare that's been lasting these past few years. We knew Thorin wouldn't approve us. It's no surprise really. Don't bother to get angry because of his silly little attempts to protest against Gandalf's will – he's just mad because things aren't going like he wanted and is unleashing his stupid little attitude on you because you're seemingly the easiest to pick on."

Meri pouted like a child, knowing Aleksi was telling the truth but still couldn't help but to feel like it was more unfair for her than him. "Yeah, and that's only because I'm a woman. What if I cut my hair and bind my tits, would that make the needed difference? If only I had a dick in between my legs, then everything would suddenly be all alright, wouldn't it? Suddenly, there'd be less problems, right?"

Aleksi gasped out loud, a bit too dramatically than what was necessary, and shook the girl from her shoulders. "You want a dick in between-? God no! Let's keep you pretty and gorgeous and without a dick, just the way you are," he said in a disbelieve, giving he few pats on her head and then squinted his eyes at her slightly, "And fuck me girl, don't you dare to do anything to your appearances, you hear me? Don't even go thinking of anything alike. I'll not have you shave your hair or do anything crazy and reckless like that, just to please Thorin! Hell, if the dwarf doesn't appreciate to have a pretty, womanly creature in his sights, then it's all his problem, not yours, and for god's sake girl, you're going to leave your hair as it is, pretty and long, or else I'm really forced to do some drastic actions over the matter. I... don't know yet what those actions will be, but trust me girl, I'll figure it out if needed and-, and you're not gonna like it!"

Meri sighed, knowing the man was getting back to his normal playful and silly acting, and so turning impossible for her to talk to seriously. She leaned forward to place her forehead against Aleksi's chest to get some solid support with her inner struggles. "I just don't want him to think me as a burden. I'm not a burden. I'm not. And I want him to see that. As stupid as it sounds, I sincerely want him to like us. Is that too much to ask?"

Aleksi patted her back gently, not knowing what to say and the girl sank even deeper into his tunic and muttered something against the plain green fabric, her words muffled.

"Say again now?"

"I said," Meri spoke louder, turning her head so that he could hear her, "What took you so long? I saw the Ri-brothers in the stables before meeting up with Gandalf, and I think I already got a small heart attack back then. And I almost pissed in my pants here, having to deal with all those dwarves alone," she cast her eyes on their feet and nudged his booth with her own, "Where the hell were you? Why weren't you here where you were needed? I thought you were supposed to keep watch. You promised me you'd keep watch."

Aleksi felt a cold feeling of shame creeping down his neck, knowing he had let the girl down. But his mistake had been a small one and not caused much of a problem in the end, and because the girl normally forgave him rather easy, he hoped he could get her to forget about this whole incident quickly too. If he just put a bit of his playful banter into it.

"Huh! Always blaming me for everything. I'll let you know, I was actually trying to search for you." 'If not a little late, that is…' "And you know what else, it wouldn't hurt you to at least try and actually smile every once in a while! It's no wonder the dwarves haven't warmed to you yet, you looking like a bloody butcher with that face." 'Just play the guilt card and she'll forget she's mad at me. Smooth as fuck.'

"I have been smiling, you jerk!" Meri exclaimed, her face still pressed against his tunic, "You've just not been around to see it!"

Aleksi grimaced slightly, knowing she was really upset because of his absence. Another way to approach the grumpy girl was needed then. Lucky for him, Meri was a sucker for his natural charms and to the way he talked sweet nothings.

"Ah, well, then I've seriously missed out much of this evening, haven't I?" he teased good-heartily and placed a short strand of her blond hair into the back of her ear, "Forgive this fool, would you now? You know how bad I feel about this all, especially now that I know you've been here with your best behavior and giving out your smiles to those stuck up dwarves, even though it must've been hard. Poor baby," he sighed and puckered out his bottom lip in a way he knew made him look like a wounded puppy, "Your smiles truly are the most beautiful thing on Middle Earth, I cannot even start to describe how much they brighten up my life every single day. These dwarves must all be blind, not realizing the gorgeousness that lies just in front of them!" he sighed out dramatically and captured the short girl in a crushing embrace, her face tightly against him - a little bit too tightly.

"There, there, Meri-bear. I'm here now. I'm always here for you," he muttered with a calming tone, "You got nothing to worry about anymore, you know I'll take care of everything for now on. Just give me some time and I'll make those little men open their eyes and see what a beautiful, strong companion they've got for themselves for the journey. Soon they'll understand, I'll see to it. I make it happen for you. I'd do anything for you."

Meri muttered grumpily against him and tried to free herself from his unwelcome bear hug, only to make him tighten his hold, squeezing the air out of her. She choked and muttered some more and struggled even harder, but Aleksi merely just petted her head, which ridiculously reached only to his chest, and shushed her grumbles with his admiring pompous praises.

CLING-CLING!

A sound of dishes shaking together behind them stole Aleksi's attention, and he glanced at the empty table behind them. His eyes widened as he saw a familiar barmaid quickly collecting the remaining dirty dishes from a deserted table, and not even giving him a glance before rushing off, carrying the full tray with her trembling hands. The girl had obviously witnessed the warm embrace and Aleksi's fond words, coming to an obvious conclusion.

"Shiiiit…!" Aleksi breathed out, pushing Meri away like she had suddenly burned him, making the girl stumble back and then immediately attack him with half-vicious punches and slaps. "Shit! Meri, just-. Ouch! Ouch, stop it! Shit!" he cursed and tried to avoid Meri's bashing angry arms all while looking desperately after the long-lost barmaid to whom he had earlier given all his time and efforts to.

Meri gave him few more angry hits before calming herself down and straightening her bulky coat back to its place with a business-like face. She had successfully collected herself from her little temporary slip of depression. Slapping Aleksi always made her feel better.

"Ai, man!" Aleksi choked a cry, his previous playful mood now long gone, "Meri, look what you did! Look what you just did there! Now she thinks that we're-aaaahh man…! You're such a cock blocker!" Aleksi groaned sadly and buried his face into his hands.

Meri just gave him a raised eyebrow, quickly putting the pieces together. She now knew who had kept Aleksi busy earlier. "What I did? Bitch please, you were the one suffocating me." She gave a quick glance at the disappearing barmaid and turned back to Aleksi with a frown on her face. "Really, Aleksi? A barmaid, tonight? Must you, really?"

"This is entirely your fault," Aleksi emphasized, his face still buried into his hands, "And don't you 'really' me, Meri. I didn't intend this to happen. As if I ever intend to. I was keeping a sharp watch at the bar for any signs of the company! So, maybe I did order a drink while at it. And some dried meat. Then maybe another drink. But what else was I suppose to do while waiting here alone? Then, out of nowhere, she just appeared in front of me, with a full pint of ale and a smile of an angel. Let me tell you, I was speechless. Her hand kind of accidentally brushed against mine, and-well..." the man smirked, "Gracious, girl! I've never felt anything so soft in my whole miserable life. Who knew a pearl like her could be found here, in the middle of god freaking nowhere? This was destined to happen, I'm telling you."

Meri rolled her blue eyes at the hopeless man in front of her. Why did she even bother to act surprised anymore? She really should stop leaving him alone and unsupervised in public places when it always ended up with him either running after some one-night flings or then getting into fights. Trust Aleksi to find himself a hookup on an evening as big as this.

"Uhhuh," Meri shook her head with an unhappy look, even though she was more than used to things ending up like this, "Sure. It's always either 'Never seen a girl with such long eyelashes!' or 'Never had one with an actual beauty mole!' or 'Never kissed lips so full!'." She couldn't help but to allow a mocking smirk on her lips when thinking all the times they had had this very same conversation. How many times had Aleksi's brown eyes lit up and breath hitched after spotting his new lady-enchantment for the night? How many times had she seen him turn into Don Juan and swoon a girl after a girl with his irresistible charms? How many times had she had to play the part of a wing man to make the boy happy and satisfied? Meri had lost the count already. She had lost her hope on him as well.

"And then there's my absolute favorite: 'Never been with one who could suck and talk at the same time!'." The girl sighed and massaged her temples, ignoring Aleksi's dreamy-eyed reply of "Hey, really now, that was a real talent!", and continued, "Seriously Aleksi, you need to pull your shit together man. I've let you have your fun for these last years, I've been cool about it and not gotten into your way, even if I've had my objections. But for this one night, stars, for this one night, can't you keep it in your pants? Is it really that hard for you? This is important, Aleksi, it really is, and I'm starting to think that perhaps you don't get this the same way I do. If you allow yourself to get distracted so easily, then maybe this whole thing means nothing to you. Maybe you just don't care as much as-,"

"Now wait a minute here! Don't you start talking about caring, Meri," Aleksi cut in with a serious face, getting a little worked up, "After everything we've been through, I can't believe you're really doubting if I care. Or much this means to me. I'm all in for this, with every bit of me! There's not much else inside my head except this and you know that too," he muttered, tapping the side of his head, "You're not the only one who dreams, girl, nor the only one who keeps having a nightmare after a nightmare. Don't you forget that, even if it's been you lately who has seen them more. I've had my share of it all too! I'm no fuck-wit. I know exactly how important this is, for them and for us. So you can just quit with that horseshit and stop trying to guilt me into your will. I already apologized for being late so what more do you want from me? Are you seriously going to be a complete bitch to me for god knows how long, just because I like to hold onto whatever little sparks of enjoyment I can find in this hellhole?"

Meri took a step back from the man and gazed at him with hard eyes. She pursed her lips together and crossed her arms in front of her, taking a protective stance from Aleksi and his flaring temper. To anyone else, they might have looked like they were having a steadily growing argument, one with harsh words and hidden (or direct) insults. But to them, this was just a way to talk to each other when a little steam needed to be let out. Things were said as they were, bluntly and with a strong mind, going straight to the point without any unnecessary extra flourishes. Meri and Aleksi had long ago passed the point of playing nice because of polite reasons. These days they could say whatever they wanted, just as they thought of it, without having to care about the feelings of the other. In a way, there was a perfect harmony in between them – they could show the best of themselves, as well as the worst, and neither one would judge the other. Sometimes they didn't even need the words, they just knew what the other was thinking, as if they had known each other for their whole lives and not just few years.

"I'm not using any sort of guilt cards here, that's your way of doing things, not mine. I'm simply saying what worries me, because truthfully you just seem to be waltzing around the place without the slightest care of the world. But whatever then! Do what you want, that's what you always do anyways. I don't have the energy to start arguing with you, and being a complete bitch, when you're clearly not going to give a damn of what I'd have to say. Just-, just try to watch your mouth and remember your manners from now on, at least until these dwarves tolerate us enough to not to attack us whenever you're being a rude asshole to them," she said while tilting up her chin and promptly turning away from the man, "And if you would now stop wasting my time, I have some drinks to buy and dwarves to meet. Just-, just-, mmmrrr," she let out a girly growl of frustration, "-would you forget about the barmaids for one night!"

And with that she was off, marching toward the bar to get herself a drink and leaving a slightly gaping Aleksi behind her.

"Watch your mouth…! Forget about the barmaids…!" he repeated to himself in a high pitched girly tone, "I only came here to make you feel better! How is it, that every time I try to help you, something unpleasant happens to me?" called after Meri, stomping a little on his feet when he was ignored, "And just how can I go and 'forget about the barmaid', when she has stolen my whole goddamn mind here?! Oi! Don't you run away from me girl when I speak to you! Meri! Get your little ass back here, we're not done talking!"

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"Thorin, are you sure of this?" Balin asked with a low voice from the dwarf next to him, trying to keep the rest of the company out of the conversation, "Can they be trusted? I know they already know too much but I can't help but to feel that something is wrong here… Wrong with them. Could it truly be that Mahal…," he trailed off, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

Thorin scoffed and answered with an equally hushed tone, "Of course they cannot be trusted, don't be blind my friend. We will not be played by some freakish man-children telling grand tales of dream-seeing and Valar and... We will not trust them. Not before we have our proof. We will keep our heads and be ready at any time, with our eyes sharp and axes all set when things start taking a nasty turn. Let these Dreamers think what they want. Let them believe they can fool us. Only time will tell what it is that they are after."

Balin hummed with a thought. "Oh, I know how bad things can go and my eyes are sharp enough for the both of us, you needn't to worry of that. But what concerns me is that the wizard seems so sure. There is no lie in his eyes Thorin. I don't even think his kind are allowed to deceive people this way. There was nothing but honesty and sincere wonder in his words. It makes me think… Of all sorts of possibilities."

"And eventually one of those possibilities will be the truth," Thorin said darkly, "Only I think once that truth is finally out, this all will end in blood and death."

Balin frowned at such words and couldn't shake off the bad feeling he had. "What a situation we've stumbled into..."

"WELL I'D SAY!" Dori suddenly exclaimed, having heard the whole thing and not being able to stay out of it anymore, "How we suddenly find ourselves in this sort of situation is well beyond me but I find this all very unsettling and uncomfortable to begin with and would very much like to know just what in the name of Durin have we gotten ourselves into? What is happening? Would someone kindly elaborate me just why are we trusting these men-folk and most importantly why are we allowing them to join us in this sacred quest? I fail to see the logic here."

"Logic? Logic?" Gloin joined the conversation, "You think logic has any place in this? Logic is far from this place, my friend. Can't you see it, we've became as simple-minded as all these men folk we have surrounding us here, and that is the only explanation to all this! I warned you lot! It was a bad decision to come here. A bad, bad decision. Once we rode inside this horrid man-village, all the common sense in us just drizzeled off-, puff, gone! -into thin air, turning us into these same wood-headed idiots. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if the night ended up in an even bigger disaster than this! Maybe an orc raid to spice things up, what say you lads? No-, actually… Come to think of it, I'd really fancy to kick some orc arse at the moment."

"Oh boohoo. Stop with yer whinings 'n grow some balls already, lads," Bofur spoke up with a good-humored snicker, "Ye're an unbelievable bunch! Here we got ourselves couple of seers to help us in our merry way, 'n all ye care to do is cry like wee dwarflings over the matter! Pains me ears off, if anything. Where's yer curiosity? Where's yer thirst of adventure? Le'mme tell ye, if anything, these tale-tellers should be rising quite few good laughs from us on the long road!"

If he had expected a positive response from the company around him, he was very wrong. Instead, the hat-headed dwarf earned a firm slap at the back of his head from his cousin next to him, followed by a lecture in Khuzdul that ended with another slap on Bofur's arm. And then another one at the back of his head again.

"I'd listen to Bifur now, lad. Knows what he's sayin'," Dwalin muttered under his breath, his dark eyes glaring at the humans under his heavy brows, "Don't go takin' any interest in those two. Nothin' good ever came from gettin' friendly with these tall folk. Elves, men… Every bugger's the same. All them backstabbers and traitors. Keep yer distance from these Dreamers and sleep one eye open for now on, ye never know what'll happen in the darkest hours of the night with those two lurkin' around our camp."

Gandal cleared his throat and looked them all with irritated eyes, clearly very disappointed. "That'll be enough of suspicious talk for the night, thank you Master Dwalin. No need to feed the fire of distrust among this party, when that flame is already burning so hot. I don't see any reason to place fault onto blameless shoulders. They didn't make this happen, other forces did. They didn't insist to be part of the company, I did. If you don't agree with the choices I have made, well, that is unfortunate, and I'm sorry but you will just have to learn how to accept and move on."

Dwalin bit back his tongue and slowly moved his dark eyes to Thorin, exchanging looks with him. 'The wizard's barkin' out orders as if he owned this whole damned company. It's ye I follow. Yer word I listen to. Not his!'

But Thorin gave him a gesture to listen what Gandalf was saying and so Dwalin sighed out hot air through his nose and clenched his jaw with a temper.

"Aye," Dwalin finally grunted out as an answer to the wizard, though he remained looking at his friend, "But don't mean I have to like it…" he grumbled out and crossed his big arms in front of him, huffing out like his pride was wounded.

Gandalf eyed the way Dwalin's jaw ticked in aggravation. He suddenly felt the strongest need to point out a certain thought. "I also hope that any sort of unpleasant accidents that just might befall on Aleksi or Meri during our long journey together can be avoided and stopped in time. As you said, you never know what will happen in the darkest hours of the night. No one wants to wake up one morning with an axe buried in their backs, do they?"

Dwalin shot an offended look to Gandalf. 'Dwarves have no need to run around stabbin' people while they're sleepin' and helpless, we've got all the means to do that when they're good and standin' and fightin' back! And as if I'd sink so low to raise my axes against little girls, no matter what race!' But then suddenly his frown turned up a tad, creating a mischievous look on his face. His eyes sparkled in a scary sort of delight that made Gandalf not so pleased to notice. 'While I don't go fightin' little girls, that man, however…'

"Ayee," Dwalin let out a low chuckle and leaned back on his chair with an oddly satisfied look on his face, "No one likes accidents," he granted and ended the conversation with a finishing nod and a smirk that fought back all that he was saying. 'Though, if it's trainin' and fully intentional, all is fair. All is fair.'

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"-and listen, I'm not even kidding right now, I think it's the way that she can't even look me into my eyes longer than two fucking seconds that makes my man ego burst with pride and fill me with the need of taking and dominating. I swear it's like she's awakening some sort of a primitive animal in me, and that beast lashes around inside me and demands to make her surrender to me and then fill her with desire and pleasure. I'm a goner Meri. I'm a fucking helpless case. I need to have her. I'm not even kidding. I seriously have to have a taste of her. It's like I'm drunk - and I've only had two mugs of ale tonight-,"

"Shut. Up. Already!" Meri hissed to the blabbering man beside her at the bar counter. Aleksi just wouldn't stop talking about his stupid little crush on the barmaid who had mysteriously disappeared from the saloon for a while now. "I couldn't care less of your silly conquest games, so just bugger off and leave me to buy my drink in all peace! And stars, where's that barmaid when she's needed!"

"Well! I bet she's locked herself into some dark room to cry her eyes out because she thinks that she can't have me now that she saw you clinging onto me like some pathetic love-sick school girl! Thanks a lot Meri. You ruined my chances. I hope you're happy now," Aleksi grumbled out very much displeased and then sighed out longingly, "I should be there comforting her. Holding her tightly in my arms and whispering soft words to her ear. Stroking her back and hair and press her tear-stained face against my shoulder. Let her tremble in my hold and clutch onto me. I should be there right next to her, giving her strength to get over her sadness. Oh shit-," the man hissed and then sucked in a desperate breath, "-all the things I really should do to her after that…."

Meri glanced at him with unimpressed eyes and wondered how her life had turned out to be like this. Surely she didn't deserve whatever karma's revenge this was. She was always a good girl. Yes she had her difficulties in life just like most people, but in general she liked to think that she had turned out to be a nice girl. One who listened what her mama said and one who deeply loved and cherished the little family she had. She cared for her closest ones. She always did as she was told and rarely caused any major scenes. She went to school like a dutiful student. She never stole anything or bullied anyone, never had fights which she regretted later on. She never tried any strong drugs and was only a half-alcoholic after turning eighteen. She graduated on time and with good papers, got a job which she didn't completely hate, and always paid her goddamn taxes. She sorted her trash, sometimes took her old neighbor's even older cat Mrs. Fatty Catty to walks, hoped for world peace and even sent out little prayers from time to time. Once she even donated blood. No completely rotten person would ever do that, right? So why was she punished like this? She was always a good class B citizen, no better or worse than any other basic Joe on the street! She had built a nice basis for her life and had a good little thing going on. She had plans for her future. And a plant to water back at her place! And now… Now. Now she was playing a hero in a fairytale land, trying to save couple damsel-dwarves in distress. With man-whore as her sidekick. Meri slowly turned her head back towards the bar and silently stared into nothing, her eyes so empty it was sad. Her life was sad. Her mama would not approve.

'Sometimes in life, you might feel weak, dearie.' Meri closed her eyes and heard her mama's words, still clearly remembering what her voice sounded like. The sound flowed in the air gently at first but finishing with a soft female baritone. Her mama's words were always clear and well articulated, yet still smooth like an invisible caress to her hearing, tucking her mind into a warm safe blanket with its life-long familiarity. 'Sometimes, you might feel like you just cannot go on anymore. That you've taken one too many bitch slaps on the face and you're scared of getting even more hurt should you continue doing your own thing. You might feel like a failure. You might want to give up.' Meri knew the feeling so well. She had always been so insecure when her mama was always so strong and stable, standing on her ground with her own two feet. Her Mama Bear. God, she missed her. 'But you won't, dearie. You won't give up. You'll never give up. Because that is when you remember that you don't have the time for that shit when you have things to do and places to be and a lot of motherfuckers to prove wrong. Giving up isn't an option. Neither is education under my rooftop. So you have exactly five minutes to get your lazy-ass up that bed and go grab your breakfast and get ready for school or I swear I'll come up there and drag you all the way to your classes by your bra straps if I must!'

"Quite lost in your thoughts, are you, dear girl?"

Meri jumped a little and let out an alarmed yelp, whipping her head to look at the owner of the voice that had managed to creep behind to spook her.

"Gandalf!" the girl protested and held her chest, "Don't scare me like that! Gosh, you almost gave me a heart attack! Don't do this kind of things to me! I'm sensitive."

The wizard just smiled and said; "My apologies, Meri. The scare was not intended." So he said, though he didn't look sorry at all.

"Gandalf, my man!" Aleksi welcomed with a cheer and offered his hand with one grand gesture, "We had no chance for proper greetings yet! It's been too long since we last saw, eh old chap? Over a year or so?"

Gandalf looked at the outstretched hand with a humored expression, leaving it hanging there. "A year is a short time for an old chap like me, I feel like it was only yesterday that you last bit your farewells."

Aleksi frowned and extended his hand even further. "You're supposed to shake it, man. Don't tell me your old age has started to mess around with your memory as well? Got any weight loss? Fragile bones? You do look a little pale and dusty. Sort of grey. Should we start being concerned here?"

Gandalf pursed his lips and looked offended. He continued ignoring the pointed hand. "The state of my health is hardly the foremost thing you should concern yourself with. I dare to say I'm quite capable taking care of myself for many many years to come still."

Aleksi frowned harder and stepped closer to the wizard, shoving his hand almost to his lap. "I wouldn't push it, man. Old people die all the time. To sickness. To overexertion. To coldness. Usually they've already passed on before we youngsters even realize something's wrong."

Gandalf's eyes narrowed and chin raised. "As do little men. Often because of small mistakes. Bad decisions. By steel and violence. But most just die simply because they are unintelligent fools."

Aleksi's eyebrows rose high on his forehead, he hadn't missed the insult. He took another step closer, so close his nose almost touched the older man's beard. Brown eyes stared into pale blue for one silent moment before Aleksi stubbornly pushed his hand against Gandalf's robes. "Shake it. Or I'll never let you have your personal space again."

Gandalf merely had the time to cock up one eyebrow before Meri yanked the blond man back by his hair. Aleksi let out a pained cry and stumbled backwards, the girl still gripping his hair. "Back off you moron, you're being so rude and childish! Why'd you go and bully him like that?"

"Ai, stop it, you devil of a woman!" Aleksi whined and wiggled himself out of Meri's hold, "Jesus Christ, my hair! What were you trying to do? Pull it off in chunks? Fuck me, just stay away from me, you little monster."

Meri pulled a face at him and turned back to Gandalf. "I'm so sorry Gandalf. I'm so lost on what to do with him. He's like an unruly dog I just can't get to behave. Don't mind him and his stupid cheek, you're definitely not an old man. I think you're looking very handsome and in good spirits! No better way to start a long journey."

Gandalf nodded to the compliment and smiled to the girl. "No harm done, I know very well Aleksi meant no ill."

"See there!" Aleksi laughed and grinned toothily, latching himself onto Meri's shoulders, "Gandalf knows me! He knows I'm just playing around with him! What a bro!"

Meri shook the man off her shoulders and gave him a little glare. "If only you'd stop playing around and be serious every once in a while. Maybe find some common sense in you. And come on time to scheduled meetings… That's all I'm asking for."

Aleksi huffed out. "Uhhuh, but that's awfully lot to ask of me… Besides, it's not like I'm the only one being late from gatherings. Gandalf does that all the time and I see no one giving him hard time because of it."

Gandalf stared at the man with a calm facade. "Why... A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

Aleksi and Meri froze to look at the wizard with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Aleksi's mouth hanged open while Meri's eyes stared wide.

"What?" Gandalf then asked, a little bothered of their unresponsiveness.

"Oh, oh nothing," Meri coughed out an answer and scratched her neck, "It's nothing." 'Except just one fucking huge déjà vu moment, that's all.'

"Anyways, I guess I should go ahead and apologize to you too Gandalf," Aleksi sighed and looked a little uncomfortable with the task, "For being late and all… You know it wasn't intentional. I just own a very one-tracked mind that is easily distracted with pretty little things walking by. What can I say? The simplicity in me plays a big part in my charm. I couldn't survive long without it. Though I'm not completely sure if it left a good first impression on the company."

Gandalf gave him a sly look. "I believe you were trying to say that 'your game was kind of weak, my friend'?"

Aleksi chuckled while Meri looked at the wizard with a stunned expression.

"You've been learning! I'm impressed!" the man winked.

"Please stop teaching people these things, Aleksi," Meri muttered, slightly choked up, "It's unnatural, and weird, and it's upsetting me greatly."

"Then suck it up, girl," was Aleksi's answer, "I'll take my amusement where I can find it. Who knows, maybe one day we'll come across with someone who'll just casually greet me with a 'Yo bro!' and a swift fistbump, then takes one look at you and says 'Dude, what's wrong with the lil doll? Girl seriously looks like she needs to take her chill pill.' and then take his leave with one carefree wave of a hand and a 'Later dude.' Wouldn't that be fucking great, or what? Like a dream come true."

Meri's stared at the man, her eye twitching a little. Wordlessly she turned back to the bar, waiting for the long-lost barmaid so she could finally have her seriously needed drink. "I don't have the patience to deal with you right now. Gandalf, please, do tell why you've come to talk to us while I ignore that tiresome being behind me."

Gandalf stroked his beard and watched with mirth as the odd couple spoke to each other. They still stuck out like a sore thumb from the common people around them. It was so strange for him. Even after so long he could still sense the lingering touch of Aulë's magic in them, flowing inside them, pulsing in their blood and living in their cells. These two odd-birds, freaks even, who only had little place in the world they had been pushed into, had been chosen by a higher being to carry out this puzzling mission. Aulë had without a doubt seen something great and special in them. Seen something big and promising to have picked them out of all the others. There must have been a reason. Just like Gandalf had had his reasons to choose Bilbo.

"Yes," the wizard mused out slowly, recalling why he had come there in the first place, "Ah, yes, yes now I remember. Now that you are both here, it's perhaps for the best to have a little talk before you go and engage new conversations with the company. Mainly you Aleksi, for Meri I have already spoken to."

Aleksi's eyes narrowed slightly. "Come to think of it, I think a little talk is in order. Just exactly when were you going to pass us the news about the whole smithing thing? You think it was clever of you to leave out these few itchy pitchy details from us? You think it was irrelevant for us to know that someone's been messing around with the inner parts of us? Fuck me, Gandalf if there's some disgusting alien parasite living inside my body that I've had no idea of, do tell me now so that I can go kill myself right away with my own sword and all. Fuck the dwarves and fuck the Mountain in that case. I'll cancel this whole thing. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me I haven't had my soul sucked out by some godly being during the process of coming here? Seriously man, should I be concerned?"

BANG!

Out of nowhere, Meri banged her fists to the bar counter, startling Aleksi and Gandalf who then watched with confusion as the girl suddenly started jumping and hooping in joy; "Praise the Lord, the barmaid is finally here! Hey Lady, yes you there! Drinks! Drinks for all of us!"

Immediately Aleksi's eyebrows rose and his eyes went to search for the said maid, Gandalf being long forgotten from his mind. With a crushing disappointment, he saw another barmaid coming to serve Meri, this one with dark hair and hazel eyes that found his own with a quickly rousing interest in them. 'Pretty thing. But not my soft-handed maid.' Aleksi gave her a polite nod and a charming smile but then turned his eyes from her, letting Meri do the ordering.

"So," the man cleared his throat with a little sheepish grin, knowing Gandalf had caught him eyeing the barmaid, "Guess we can sort out the deal with the living parasite a little later, yes? What was it you wanted to talk about? I'm all ears, good man."

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EDITED 2019

"Sometimes I feel like giving up. Then I remember I have a lot of motherfuckers to prove wrong." -All those Queens and Kings out there

Thorin is one big mess. I overdid the beginning so much I think I should be ashamed. I read an interesting theory about dwarves having a horrible eyesight and was immediately turned on by it. What are your thoughts on it?

By the way, keep an eye on Frerin and everything that's mentioned of him. His death is a sad and confusing one, and I plan to drop little hints of it every once in a while.

Thanks to MissCallaLilly and dragonegyptianblue for their reviews, it's great to see people liking my story! As to when Meri's going to tear Thorin a new one, well, it's going to be a while until we get to that point of frustration. She's a complicated little thing (as most women are) and it might take her a while to get comfortable enough around Thorin to act completely like herself.

Tell me what's on your mind, give me feedback, ask me questions. I'm more than happy to reply.

Stay positive and motivated, the spring is coming. Drink with responsibility and remember to use protection, I know what the thought of summer does to you all. You animals.

With cheers and all that jazz,

Miss Always Wrong.