You guys keep amazing me with your fabulous reviews! I can never thank you all enough for the support.
On another note, I've finally made a proper title image for 'The Loudest Silence', so take a peek at that if you want. :D
*EDIT: The picture is something I did in PhotoShop. I did not draw her from scratch, and it was recently brought to my attention that people might mistake it as an actual art piece of mine. The picture was a promo of Ginnifer Goodwin for "Once Upon A Time", because honestly, she was the closest I could find to Jenna's face type. v.v
Anyway! Next chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit or its characters.
The Loudest Silence
Chapter Six
"Absolutely not."
That was all. That was all he said, staring at Gandalf like he had just suggested they go hug some Elves. He wasn't even worried about anybody trying to convince him otherwise, because the wizard was clearly delusional. Thorin's mind was made up.
I stood from my spot beside the passed out Hobbit, a frown forming on my face. It was going about as well as I figured it would. Which was to say, not very well at all.
"Now, Thorin, this young woman has – " Gandalf began calmly, before being cut off.
"No. The Halfling is bad enough as it is, but to bring her along as well? It is only asking for unnecessary trouble. She cannot even speak, for Mahal's sake," Thorin intervened, shaking his head shortly. "I will not."
Balin's voice came from the dining room, as he said, "I agree. Mister Baggins is needed as our burglar, otherwise he would have no reason to be coming along on such a hazardous journey, but as for Miss Hollander… It would be best not to involve her."
Too late for that, really, I thought, subconsciously crossing my arms for a sense of security and, by mistake, mirroring Thorin's stubborn pose. It wasn't meant to be a challenge but when his jaw tensed, I realized he had taken it that way. Oops.
Gandalf looked slightly ruffled after having been interrupted, and tried to continue, "As I was saying, this young woman has been brought h – "
"She is not coming, and that's the last of it. What is she even doing here in the first place?" the king questioned, studying my no doubt less-than-impressive person. "You are no Hobbit, and you are obviously not a Dwarf either, so what is your business?"
When I bit my lip and – as he knew would happen – said nothing, he turned halfway around to gaze at the table of Dwarves for an answer. Gandalf looked properly agitated now as well and ventured out into the atrium so he could stand up straight.
Bofur shuffled his feet uncomfortably from where he stood in the dining room entrance, earning stares from those in the area who didn't know about the river drama. At the back of the table, his brother shifted in his seat, while Bifur watched the proceedings with surprising attentiveness.
When Thorin's sight zeroed in on the hatted Dwarf once more, Bofur tried for a sheepish smile, but came up short. "Ha, well… As for her bein' here, that would be our doing," he admitted, referencing his kin. "We – Bifur, Bombur, and I – were gettin' ready to settle down for supper the other night, and then one of my brother's pots went rolling downhill, so o'course I chased after it. That's when we found her in the river, half-drowned and hurt on top of it all. We couldn't just leave her there, you understand, and she didn't have anywhere else to go…"
An uncomfortable silence followed when the Dwarf trailed off awkwardly.
"She should not have been brought to this meeting, regardless," Thorin said to him after a long second, and Bofur's demeanor became admonished. "She is not to be a part of this Company."
Bofur perked up suddenly. "Oh, that wasn't my idea."
Thorin looked one hundred percent done when he turned back to the wizard, who was then standing beside me. The presence was a small comfort during this fiasco. Like a magical grandpa who could vouch for me and who may or may not have further knowledge of my situation.
"That idea was mine, and if you would be so kind as to let me finish, then you would know why I suggested such a thing," Gandalf finally put in. "As I was trying to tell you before, Miss Hollander was brought here from a different world entirely. The Valar themselves sent her to aid in your expedition, Thorin Oakenshield, and if you turn down that kind of assistance then you are a much bigger fool than I took you for."
Ah. So the wizard did know more than he let on.
Various things happened at that. Some of the Dwarves in the dining room began mumbling amongst each other, and I thought I heard Dori say something along the lines of, "He's got to be pulling our legs," followed by someone else saying, "Surely they would have sent another wizard instead?" Dammit, Kili.
Meanwhile, Thorin was looking at me very thoughtfully, as though he couldn't decide if Gandalf was joking or not. I mean, I appeared strange enough, even though I seemed as intimidating as Kermit the Frog. I didn't think it would be very hard to tell that I was from a different world. My attempts not to squirm under his blue stare failed miserably, and I let my weakness show when I shifted my gaze away from the staring contest first.
Poor Bofur's face was a combination of enthusiastic and concerned, but that quickly faded into something else. I could basically see the puzzle pieces slotting into place as he glanced at my arm, remembering my tattoo, probably thinking its connection to all this made more sense. I wondered vaguely why the Ur family hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet, even though they had almost gotten in trouble over bringing me.
When the mumbling quieted down, I was nervous. Thorin had been silent the entire time, Dwalin muttering something to him from his seat, and when he looked back to me, I knew exactly what he was going to say.
"My answer remains the same."
I let my shoulders drop, uncrossing my arms with alarm. What? I thought that he would surely change his mind at Gandalf's mention of the Valar, but it was plain to see that he didn't believe the wizard's words. I mean, I knew I didn't seem all that useful, but if I got left behind… I didn't want to think about that possibility. My survival skills were zilch, so following them in secret would only end with me dead. I had to go with them.
Thorin turned to Gandalf with annoyance, and reiterated quietly, "I agreed to your terms with the Halfling, but I will not endanger a young woman as well, no matter who allegedly sent her."
Well, at least his reasons weren't all just related to me being a nuisance.
An odd snuffling sound by my feet drew my attention away, and I realized that I had forgotten about Bilbo during our conversation. I quickly crouched down beside him as his face scrunched up with a small groan, and his eyes flickered open. I could hear chairs being scooted out as the Dwarves decided the debate was over. Their leader had spoken and that was that. From my spot on the floor, I watched Dwalin and Balin followed Thorin out of the atrium, and the others dispersed randomly, except for the Brothers Ur. Bofur quietly said something as Bombur nodded and Bifur sort-of-nodded. This resulted in Bofur staying behind, the other two vacating the premises with one more glance my way.
Gandalf heaved a sigh at the outcome of our conversation, grumbling to himself about Dwarves as Bilbo sat up woozily. He looked around for a moment with bleary eyes until he met my concerned face.
"…I passed out, didn't I?" the Hobbit commented upon noticing we were on the floor. I nodded, forgetting all about my injury when I went to help him stand. I had to let go almost instantly, wincing both at the sharp pain and at how Bilbo plopped back down on his bum.
I quickly mouthed, 'I'm sorry!'
Though he looked uncomfortable at the sudden drop, he waved off the apology and stood up with Bofur's help instead, eyebrows creasing together when he noticed I was holding my arm. "Are you alright?" Bilbo asked me.
I shrugged, saying a silent, 'Sort of?'
"I nearly forgot about yer wound, lass," Bofur pointed out worriedly, before heading out of the room. "Ye just sit tight and I'll be right back with Oín."
Gandalf stared after the Dwarf, a curious look on his face. Me and Bilbo exchanged glances, and the wizard suddenly looked down at me.
"I do believe Thorin will change his mind before this evening is done. I wouldn't worry about a thing, my dear," he said, a small smile playing on his face. He placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder, maneuvering him towards the sitting room. "Come, Bilbo. We have matters to discuss..."
I was left standing in the atrium, wondering what the old man meant.
It wasn't long though before Bofur returned with the medic Dwarf in tow. Oín was carrying some kind of satchel as he motioned for me to take a seat at one of the dining room chairs, pulling one up for him as well.
"I was told ye have an injury that needs tending to?" the healer asked a bit loudly.
I simply nodded, pulling my hoodie off for better access to the wound, propping my left arm up on the table for him. I was glad to see that the cloth wrapped around the wound was still in place, and that there was no extra blood or anything.
"We're not exactly healers," Bofur chuckled, "but we did the best we could with what we had."
Oín just 'hmm'd as he unwrapped the makeshift bandaging. Again, the dried blood stuck to the tender skin of the cut when it was peeled off, but I forced myself not to flinch this time. I peeked over at the gash, not liking the fact that it hadn't begun to heal yet. The old Dwarf made a face. Probably not a fantastic sign.
"Aye, it's a good thing you came to me," Oín said. "I'm surprised an infection hadn't set in yet. The only downside is that ye'll need stitches or this isn't going to heal right, but it's nothing I can't handle."
I winced at the thought of stitches, but for the most part I was relieved, glad to hear he could take care of it. Bofur relaxed as well upon this news, and it touched me that he was so concerned.
There was another part of his expression that made me interested though. It was as if he was waiting for something, and when Oín pushed my t-shirt sleeve up the rest of the way to clean the cut properly, I realized what he had been expecting. One very important thing I forgot while distracted by my throbbing arm.
Oín paused, saying nothing. I panicked when I remembered and yanked my sleeve back down, slapping my hand over it defensively. This was just general dumbassery on my part, what with it being so close to the wound. I felt like half my face was wincing and half was staring like an idiot while I waited for him to say something.
It was a long moment before Oín reacted. He had been gazing at my sleeve for a good while, and finally met my eyes again, expression reminiscent of a parent who caught their kid shoving vegetables under the table to their dog. I slumped and exhaled, not bothering to resist when he pulled the sleeve back up to inspect my tattoo. "When were you planning on tellin' us about this, lass?" he questioned.
Oh God. I gradually began to tense again. Not afraid for my life or anything, but nervous. I knew there was a better chance of getting to go on the quest if they knew about it, but how was I going to explain it? Use shadow puppets?!
Ori was meandering by at that point, sipping at a cup of some warm beverage, when he spotted us. His attention was snagged by what was going on, peering over at my arm.
"That must hurt something awful, Miss," he stated about the wound, though when his vision shifted upwards a little, eyes growing wide, he dropped that subject in favor of another. "That looks like… is that what I think it is?"
Despite the oddity of my tattoo, Oín continued his treatment like a professional and pulled a small jar out of his medical bag, undoing the lid to rub some strange smelling paste on the cut. Dear flaming tits! What was that shit?! With the copious amount of stinging, I assumed it was some kind of disinfectant, and he wiped away the excess with a cloth. I grimaced at the odor and the pain as Oín finished with that, putting the paste back up only to drag out thread and a curved needle. Splendid.
"Lad, go and fetch Thorin for me, would you?" the healer directed to Ori, scooting closer to begin stitching. "Tell him there's… somethin' he needs to see."
Oh goodie, I thought to myself, glancing up to Bofur for reassurance. He watched as Ori padded out of the room quickly, then turned to me with an earnest expression, giving a slight shrug. My attention somewhat wavered when Oín began sewing me up. I had to clench my teeth and grip my pants leg with my free hand to prevent myself from wiggling, and also from looking like a total pansy. It was certainly a good thing I couldn't make noise or that would have flown out the window in a heartbeat.
"It'll turn out alright in the end, lass," Bofur said, referencing the tattoo situation. There was a moment of dithering as his eyes wandered down to the hall, before he looked back to me and asked, "So… are ye really from a different world? It would certainly explain a few things, if ye are. What the wizard said about the Valar and all… is it true?"
What was the point in denying it? Gandalf had already tried to inform them, though most of the Company didn't believe it. Bofur was probably the first real friend I would make here – at least, I hoped we would be friends after he had been talking my ear off for three days, not to mention the fact that his family had saved my life, and he was legit the nicest person in the world ever. So yeah. I wanted to count him as a friend, and as such, I wanted him to be aware of what truth I could offer.
So, I gave him a small nod. His eyebrows went up a bit and he let out a low whistle.
"I guess I was right about that story of yours being interestin' then, eh?" he asked with a laugh. My spirits lifted a little and I smiled gratefully.
A few minutes passed as Oín finished, stitches looking all neat and professional before he bandaged it and my sleeve slipped back down on its own. It was then we heard footsteps approaching from down the hall and seconds later, Thorin rounded the corner. Not far behind him was Balin, and though there was no longer any sign of Dwalin, Ori followed them back to where we were waiting.
"What was it that you needed to show me, Oín?" Thorin asked, only glancing at me briefly before turning his eyes back to the medic, like he knew the interesting thing couldn't have possibly been me.
Oín didn't meet the king's gaze for long, instead giving me a stern look and simply saying, "Go on then."
Well, not like I have a choice. I sighed, pulling my sleeve back up and wadding it around my shoulder while I shifted in my seat, angling so that Thorin could see what covered my upper arm.
I guess I should explain something about myself.
I had a weakness for maps. When I was a kid, I would draw an excessive amount of treasure maps, covering the fridge of my childhood home in little variations of them. Maps were neat, pleasing to the eye. They went places and told stories, but I was also just a lover of fantasy, so when you put a map of a magical world in front of me… well. I thought it was a great idea for my first tattoo.
Of course, I couldn't just get a simple map of Middle Earth, now could I? While that was cool and all, it would have been way too big and complicated, and I wanted to throw a quote underneath it for a finishing touch. Too much going on could take away from the ideal of it, but I desired the perfect tattoo. So, I decided on an alternative.
That's how Thorin wound up staring at his grandfather's map, tattooed on my arm, runes and all.
In fine lines, the Lonely Mountain was drawn on my shoulder, a tiny red Smaug circling the skin above it. The pointed hand which told of the secret passage rested on the front of my arm and the rest of the map and its scripts wrapped all the way around. I was glad I had not turned further, or they would have been able to pick out the barely-visible Moon Runes I had included into the tattoo, in white ink. I didn't know how their learning of the map's secret writing too early would affect the timeline, but it wasn't as though any of them could read ancient Dwarvish. They would still need Elrond's help, so I tried not to worry.
Beneath it all, right above my bandaged cut, was the quote I chose as well. I had it written in font that matched the location names so that it would blend with the overall visual. I hoped for my own sanity that they wouldn't point it out, though.
The wait was agonizing as Thorin studied the ink on my arm, and for a short-lived second, I could see the bewilderment in his eyes, his mouth opening just the tiniest bit. If this were a less intense situation, it would have been almost funny, but he quickly schooled his face into a more collected expression. I met his gaze with trepidation, knowing that this was probably beyond weird for him, though it rapidly became weird for me too as another staring contest ensued.
He was, understandably, confused.
"Thorin…?" interrupted a concerned Balin, glancing between my tattoo and the king, looking quite surprised at the development as well.
Thorin took a step forward and it felt like he was looming over me. That may have been the effect he was going for, though, as he said slowly, "I only just learned of this map's existence mere moments ago, and yet here I find it, permanently etched onto a woman we know nothing about. One from the race of Men, no less."
I willed myself not to break the stare and dropped my hand from my sleeve. The shirt stayed wadded up over my shoulder this time, leaving the uncanny tattoo on display.
"How is this possible?" the king asked, though he knew perfectly well I couldn't explain.
There was no way I could tell the whole truth, and only telling half the truth would probably be twice as confusing – especially if I had to educate them via interpretive dance. I grimaced while trying to figure out an answer that would pacify him, and to my horror, I slowly wound up shrugging. Shrugging!
His brows lowered dangerously, making me want to slam my head against a wall. That was honestly the dodgiest blooming answer I could have given.
There were others who had joined the group by that point, wondering what could possibly warrant their king's attention in this Hobbit Hole. Fili and Kili entered warily from the left hall, followed by Dwalin, who raised a bushy eyebrow when he saw what the topic revolved around. Ori was mumbling something to his brothers at Dori's insistence, letting them know what was going on.
Kili scooted forward to get a better look, Fili close behind, and their eyes widened comically at the sight. I might have laughed if the there wasn't a suspicious Dwarf king hovering right in front of me.
"Isn't that the map Gandalf brought you?" the youngest prince asked.
"Aye, it is," Thorin said shortly, staring at the tattoo again. I couldn't blame him.
Fili was the one who finally peered closer at the quote under the map, and I froze as he said, "That part… it's a bit different than yours though. 'If more of us valued food and song and cheer above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world'?"
If anything, Thorin's glowering turned even more troubled as he shared a look with his nephew. He obviously had no way of knowing those were his dying words, but the relevance to gold sickness couldn't have been lost on him. It was something he worried about, wasn't it? I really wondered what Thorin was thinking at that moment, arms crossed once more, steely eyes boring holes into me like a puzzle he couldn't find the last piece to.
"That's oddly… specific, don't you think?" Kili asked uncertainly. I was under the impression I had grown a second head, the way he was looking at me.
"Perhaps Gandalf's story was not so far-fetched after all," Balin hypothesized.
"Of course it was not 'far-fetched'," said Gandalf as he entered the room, with a curious Bilbo lingering a few feet behind. Gandalf apparently did not know quite as much as I thought, however, because he stopped short when he noticed my arm. "Oh dear… Well, this is certainly an unexpected development."
All eyes turned towards the wizard, and I was thankful when Thorin finally let up on his glaring in favor of looking over as well. I knew he was more than a little distrustful at that moment and frankly, I could see why.
"What is this?" Thorin questioned, gesturing vaguely towards my arm.
Still observing, Gandalf answered, bemused, "It appears to be a tattoo."
"I can see that," the king informed with a dangerous note. He was obviously trying to keep his cool when he continued, "A tattoo of a map that up until now was in your possession. Is this your way of persuading me to bring her along? A magic trick?"
"Heavens, no. I only just met Miss Hollander this evening, on the doorstep. How could I have possibly had time for such a thing?" Gandalf asked.
Thorin's patience was microscopic, and I wanted to scoot far away from this discussion. "How? You're a wizard, you tell me."
Gandalf was unruffled but firm as he replied, "I had nothing to do with this and I would thank you not to accuse me of such. Though, I did try to tell you she was here for a reason. If this is not proof enough for you, then I do not know what is."
Thorin scowled at him for a good moment longer before the Dwarf's gaze reluctantly shifted to my tattoo for the umpteenth time. Without the explanation of it being a magic trick, his confusion was slowly coming back, and I could see some serious gears turning.
There was a long silence, until Balin sighed, "The Brothers Ur finding Miss Hollander is more than coincidental, there's no denying it. Something like this does not just happen, out of the blue, with no otherworldly involvement."
Thorin seemed mildly taken aback as he looked over, asking, "What are you saying, Balin?"
"You know exactly what I'm saying, lad. We might not like it, but I fear that disregarding a connection of such enormity would be… unwise, to say the least," Balin reasoned. Truth be told, I was a little astonished by his words.
At the other's comment, Thorin appeared more thoughtful than agitated, unlike the entire beginning half of this conversation where I was sure he would just stick with his original choice. Balin was someone he trusted entirely. The decision seemed on the fence at last, and hope sparked in my chest at his deliberation. He was considering it. Thorin was really, honestly considering it.
"Do ye even know how to defend yourself? How to use any kind of weapon? Of course ye don't," Dwalin directed at me, sharing an unconvinced look with his brother, and worse, with Thorin. My fragile determination wobbled. "The Burglar is one thing. A naïve lass with no experience in the world is another matter entirely."
Gandalf responded to this, saying, "Experience she may lack, but I believe wholeheartedly that Miss Hollander will be a valuable addition. One can always learn to fight, if necessary, and I fail to see how another helping hand would not benefit this Company."
"We've enough helpin' hands," Dwalin said, staring at the wizard like he was halfway brain-dead. "A tattoo does not a warrior make, no matter what it's of."
A weighty few seconds of quiet followed, before a surprising voice spoke up.
"Not all of us are warriors though… are we?" came the quiet reply of Ori.
The rest of the group was also not expecting him to say anything, apparently, as heads immediately turned towards him. The scribe didn't seem aware that he'd spoken out loud. When he realized it, he mumbled an apology and clammed up again, but the words were out.
Balin had the beginnings of a smile on his face, nodding a bit, and facing Dwalin again. "He has a point, brother. If it was only warriors we were looking to recruit, then there's been quite a mix-up."
Said brother made no comeback, huffing through his nose in a quiet, sarcastic laugh of sorts.
"It's true. We're already a bit of an odd bunch – what's one more?" Kili asked Thorin, unashamedly honest.
By then, everyone's attention was on the leader of the Company, who appeared more than a little agitated that his choice was seemingly already made for him. We knew the final decision was ultimately his to make, even though it was obvious that I was meant to be there. I sat with strained calmness as he glanced back to trade looks with a few in the group, like he was taking an unspoken vote, and studied me again.
Thorin thought for a moment, but must have seen something in my face since he then asked about my tattoo. "Is there anyone outside present company that knows of this?"
I shook my head, suddenly encouraged by the direction this was going.
"And you are, somehow, already aware of what our intention is on this quest?" he deduced sharply.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that I knew a few things. I pursed my lips, blinking down at my shoulder and back to him, attempting to reign in my 'duh' expression. I never did have a good poker face though. Oh man, if looks could kill, then Thorin wouldn't even have to worry about bringing me anymore.
His voice was unnervingly calm as he stated, "So you know this is not just some hike across the land. You know there will be no commodities or comforts of home, and safety is not a promise. That every step we take will only put us in more peril. You know what kind of beast awaits us, what we plan to do… and you still believe you can be of use?"
Oh God. I knew he was testing me or trying to scare me or whatever, and it was almost working, but I had to show that I was committed to this. My neck almost didn't respond as I willed myself to nod.
Thorin paused, as if remembering something, and then said, "What is your incentive? I've yet to make any mention of payment should our venture be a success, and you've already agreed. Were you not expecting any sort of reward?"
I frowned in confusion at the direction the questions took. Um, no? It honestly hadn't crossed my mind. My incentive was to make sure three of these dorks didn't wind up as Durin-kabobs, but beyond that, there was no further thought on my part. What was I going to do with a bunch of Dwarf gold? It wasn't as if I could carry it all back home, assuming I could go back at all, so I shook my head at him.
For some reason, this made his frown worse, and my head stilled. There was no winning with this guy, was there?
"If the Valar did in fact send you, then I trust I will not come to regret this decision," he said, a thinly veiled threat hovering in there somewhere.
I didn't know whether to nod at that or not.
"I cannot risk this map falling into the wrong hands," he stated loud enough for the others to hear, unhappy resignation in his tone. "In order to reclaim Erebor, none of our enemies can learn of the hidden passage or the key. If that means we must add you to our Company to keep an eye on you, so be it."
I was little off-put by the way he worded it – like I was going to run to the Orcs and show them my shoulder? – but if it meant I could come, then that was enough. I was really torn between offense and joy.
The others seemed to have varying reactions as well, since some of them were babbling with intrigue at the development (i.e. Fili and Kili, Nori and Ori) whereas the rest had frowns that could rival their leader's. Honestly, I think the only neutral was Balin, but even he looked on the edge of disagreement regardless of his earlier words.
Hardly a second passed before Thorin directed his gaze back onto me, and I tried not to flinch as he quietly added, "I will have answers to how this map came to be on your person, voice or no."
Thorin was already stalking off before I could respond to that. I sat up a bit straighter, realizing I had cowed down involuntarily, and scolded myself.
So much for my strong resolve…
As always, feedback is treasured. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, what you thought of the tattoo reveal, anything! Likes, dislikes, what you're looking forward to. I love all reviews, even the tiny ones. :D
Just as a reminder, I'll be updating every OTHER Monday, until I notify you otherwise.
Thank you for reading~ Until next time!
