THE COLD DREAM
Shivering in her spot upon a frozen lake, the once warm blood in her veins turned to ice. Jeanne's teeth not only chattered from the cold but also the fear that heavily hazed that air like a snowy blizzard. She wasn't blind by all means, but this thick veil of frost before her was hindering her vision. She couldn't see anything, absolutely nothing outside from where she stood...but she knew he was out there. The footsteps were unmistakable behind the haze. Jeanne couldn't place exactly where it was since it sounded like there were multiple people circling her at the moment.
Jeanne bit down on her pale blue lips and breathed out a shivering breath of cold air. "Th...Thorin?" she hesitated to call out to what was beyond but no voice answered her plea, the overwhelming sensation of loneliness than started to eat away at her from the inside. "Oh, please no... I don't wanna do this alone." her voice was starting to crack from the stress, panic soon clouding her vision.
"Jeanne!" Thorin's low voice suddenly cut through the blizzard but it sounded extremely far away, like a single lonely mountain dividing them.
Jeanne lifted her head up at the sound, seeing what looked to be a tall dark shadow in the shape of a mountain in front of her. Feeling her heart sink below the ice, despair soon began to bubble up at the sound of cracking ice that began to get closer and closer. "Hello?" she called out in a shy whisper, too afraid to even raise her voice. She snapped her head around in search of the source of the footsteps but as quick as it all started...she couldn't hear it anymore. She couldn't hear anything, actually. No wind, no voices, no cracking. It was like all the sounds around her had stopped and she was left alone in this white void of isolation.
Silence wrapped around her cold body like a wet blanket. Moving about slowly on the ice, she felt her feet sliding around under her as she tried to back away from...anything really. Her body was screaming, her heart was racing and her mind was an absolute chaotic mess. The only thing she could hear was her throbbing and pulsating heartbeat drumming in her ears. Jeanne didn't take her eyes from the blizzard in front of her, staring at it as a dark figure started to become bigger and bigger until it was towering over her. A scream threatens to burst from her lungs when a pale white body ripped through the haze with eyes as blue and chilling as ice.
Azog.
He howled, screamed at her with his sharp teeth bared angrily. He raised his stump of an arm that had a twisted blade attached to it and thrust it straight through her chest. Jeanne let out a sharp gasp and felt only a shrivel of burning pain for only a fraction of a second before absolutely nothing. Her body just went totally numb, strength draining from her body like blood from a wound. Azog's lips curled up into an amused grin and he yanked the blade out from her chest. Jeanne stumbled back a bit and clapped her hand over her oozing and warm wound. She stared down at it and was expecting to see blood but only saw ice water spill out instead.
Azog lifted his blade and saw the water dripping off the edge of the silver tip. He looked up and met her eyes. "You're hollow."
Jeanne's eyes slowly fluttered to a close. Her body began to fall and she slammed through the ice and was totally submerged in the frigid waters. She began to sink farther and farther bellow until her body was finally returned to the shadows.
Tilda lifted her head when she heard the sounds of soft moans and whimpering. She glanced over to Jeanne, the woman laying her head on the table, fast asleep and motionless. It didn't look like a restful slumber though. Jeanne's face was squinched up into a worried scowl and she was clenching her fists into tight balls.
Sigrid walked back into the room after bringing in Jeanne's old clothes, now clean and dry. "Is something wrong with her?" she asked, clearly seeing the dismay on Jeanne's fair face.
"I think she's having a nightmare," Tilda said and walked over to the sleeping woman. She leaned her face down close to Jeanne and saw that she was actually trembling. "Should we wake her up?"
Sigrid put Jeanne's old clothes down on the table and walked over to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, she tried to gently wake her up by shaking her a bit. It didn't work since Jeanne seemed to be in quite the deep sleep, so Sigrid put in a bit more force and roughly shook her. In a flash, the lady's cornflower eyes shot open with fright. She snatched Sigrid's small and frail hand and grasped it with way to much force.
"Ah!" Sigrid yelped in shock.
Jeanne's wide eyes were frightened and demented but she seemed to gather her bearings enough to realize what she had done and pulled away. "Sor...sorry. I didn't realize...realize what I was doing," she spoke in a small whisper and quickly looked down at her own skin, breathing a sigh of relief to see that it wasn't flaring up with ashen veins. Jeanne ran her fingers through her hair to stop it from sticking to her face, only now realizing that the house was quiet. She lifted her head and looked around the room, not spotting a single Dwarf. "Where is everyone?"
The townspeople crowded before the Masters home that the company of Dwarves was shoved in front of by the guards. A moment later, a rather overweight and balding man rushed out of the house in a huff, face bright red with annoyance and dressed in his nightgown, obviously after being just woken up from his slumber.
"What is the meaning of this?" the Master demanded.
"We caught them stealing weapons, sire," one of his guards informed him.
Small white hands began to push through the crowd of watchful people and Jeanne finally shoved her way through to witness what was going on. A deep gas escaped her lips and she lifted her hands over her mouth. "What are they doing?"
Thorin turned his head to the side and saw Jeanne's shocked face through the crowd. He made eye contact with her and could tell that she was pondering on what to do but he quickly gave her a signal with his head, telling her to not move from her spot.
This man, the Master, was absolutely repulsive. His hair was a dull ginger color (Not a fiery red like Jeanne's.) that was thinning with age, crooked teeth that had had a thin layer of muck on them, and skin that was glistening with sweat that formed from the time he woke up to the moment he walked outside.
"Ah. Enemies of the state, eh?" the Master presumed.
"A desperate bunch of mercenaries, if ever there was, sire," Alfried said.
Dwalin clenched down his jaw. "Hold your tongue!" he spoke up roughly and grasped everyone's attention. "You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal. This is Thorin..." he gestured for the man to step up. "Son of Thrain, son of Thror!"
Jeanne looked around at the crowd and saw the shock rise up in everyone's eyes, as well as the denial filling the air as well.
Thorin took a deep sight and stepped up. "We are the Dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland." He looked around at all the people, every one of them withered with age and hunger, that including the town itself that looked like it was barely standing. "I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at the harbor...filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the North! I will see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the Dwarves...and send wealth and riches...from the Halls of Erebor!"
His speech must have sparked something in everyone, filling their eyes and hearts with a will that burned hotter than the fires of Mordor. Even Jeanne could feel it as well as see it, the life returning this once great town that had long needed to hear those words. Too long had they lived in squalor, and no more did they want to return to the cold and darkened houses riddled with cobwebs.
Not too soon had hope began to return to everyone, a voice quickly snuffed out the flames. "Death!" Bard shouted and Thorin turned around to face him. "That is what you will bring upon us." The man pushed himself through the crowd. "Dragon fire and ruin. If you waken that beast...it will destroy us all." his voice was swollen with worry and determination.
"You can listen to this naysayer...but I promise you this...If we succeed." he looked the man dead in the eye, voice warm with sincerity. "All we share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth 10 times over!" his voice about shook the whole town that erupted in cheers.
"All of you! Listen to me!" Bard tried to break through the crowds cheering. "You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm? And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a Mountain King...so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!"
"You speak as if you know!" The new voice was shrill, small sounding and not used to speaking up at all. Jeanne stepped forth and had to crank her head up to look at Bard. "Are you tired? Everyone in this town had been hidden away from the light and had long since forgotten what it felt like to have the sun on their faces. Your scared, I understand that, but isn't it time to face those fears...win or lose?" Her words were small but it made Bard flinch, shuddered away in silence at this young-looking woman.
Thorin was frozen still when Jeanne stood against Bard. He had this desire flowing through him that wanted to keep her hidden from sight so no man could harm the innocence that she still possessed. The look in her eyes said differently though, something that he had witnessed only once upon a burning hill when facing against Azog.
The Master finally spoke up. "Now, now. We must not, any of us...be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor...who failed to kill the beast!"
This took them by surprise and left Bard in a dejected state of silence as Thorin and Jeanne stared up at him.
"It's true, sire," Alfried said. "We all know the story. Arrow after arrow, he shot. Each one missing its mark."
Bard tightened his jaw and tried to march up to Thorin but Jeanne stood between them. It would have been easy to make her move but Bard didn't make an effort to get around her. He continued to hone his eyes in on Thorin. "You have no right. No right to enter that mountain."
Thorin sharpened his eyes. He reached out and grasped Jeanne's small and frail hand that meshed well against his oversized rough one. "I have the only right." He turned away from Bard and looked up at the Master. "I speak to the Master of the Men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you...share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?"
Uneasiness began to rise up in Jeanne's stomach as she waited for the Master's response, death gripping Thorin's hand in her silent state of anxiety.
The Master began to sport a big grin. "I say unto you...Welcome!' he offered his hands out, letting them into his town whole-heartedly. "Welcome, King Under the Mountain!"
Jeanne wanted to smile but something was itching in the back of her mind that made her nervus. She slowly released Thorin's hand and he looked up at her, seeing her lips fall into a worried and anxious frown.
Author's Note:
It's been a while. I hope you weren't giving up on me. I'm honestly kinda excited for Jeanne to met Smaug though, cause I feel like they would have a lot to say to each other. That'll be an interesting conversation.
I also got some exciting news for everyone, not involving this story, but another. I'm thinking of posting a brand new story near the end of this month. I'm not going to give it away on what it's gonna be but I'll say this...it's going to be a TV show that we all know and love.
