Chapter Fifty-Eight: Walker, Texas
"How many?"
Emelia strained to hear them, annoyed, for not the first time, that elves insisted on speaking in decibels only dogs could hear. She was proud of herself, at the very least, for having cobbled together enough knowledge of elvish in the last few months to understand what they were talking about, although it did nothing to lessen her frustration at being purposefully excluded.
They stood with their backs to her, heads tilted together, and shoulders tense.
"Thirty, perhaps more," The first of the twins said, peering over Legolas' shoulder to look at her. She was used, at this point, to the undeniable curiosity that always crossed people's faces whenever they looked at her. The hobbits, bless them, had finally gotten used to her and no longer stared quite as much when she passed through town, although the gossip had not yet abated. The look the elf gave her, however, was a beast of a different sort and it made her feel distinctly exposed.
She sighed and looked down at her half-cooked rabbit and stopped moving it over the fire. There was no point now. It would be lembas for her, again, and more unfiltered water that tasted like dirt. She decided to wait for the bad news officially before she gave up entirely and wasted her rabbit, and instead turned to her pack to begin making sure it was ready for travel. She had planned on changing clothes tonight, into something a bit warmer, but apparently that wouldn't be happening either.
She made her displeasure known, grumbling to herself as she shoved everything around in her pack, probably messing up her less than meticulous packing more than it already was. Her movement drew their attention, causing her to pause with her hands hovering over a small clump of crude soap that she had taken out, mind eyeing a possible cleanup in the lake before their plans had changed.
"Emelia," Legolas started, face tight with annoyance, although she did not think it was directed at her.
"We're leaving. I heard."
Legolas smiled ever so slightly, tilting his head to the side in a way that would have dazzled her in another life. "Your elvish is improving."
She tried not to react to the clear pride in his voice, even if it was somewhat tempered by the accompanying tone of surprise. Her elvish had improved, along with a great many other things. "I've had a lot of time."
Legolas watched her for a moment longer, an unreadable expression on his face, before he turned back to the other two and nodded once, spurring them into action. Emelia hitched her pack onto her shoulders and readjusted her clothes. The layers were cumbersome when she didn't have time to make sure they all laid straight, but she wouldn't have time to really fix them until they stopped again. They buried the rabbits, still half cooked, in the dirt by the fire before they moved on.
Two hours from camp, when the silence that stretched between them seemed truly unbearable, the twin closest to her moved backwards so that they were walking together, an impassive look on his face.
"I am Elrohir."
His brother, Elladan, was grim. Their faces were the same, their eyes a matching brilliant blue, their hair inky black, skin carved from the purest stone, but their temperaments could not be more outwardly different. They might not take too kindly to such an assessment, if their attitudes were similar to Legolas, but it was all she could think when either of them glanced back at her over their shoulders. But for all their similarities, she could see the differences plain as day.
Elladan regarded her with what seemed to be an unending suspicion whenever he glanced over his shoulder, which was frequent. At first he tracked her movements like he was hunting her, careful eyes never leaving her until he was forced to by something his brother or Legolas said. She held herself higher when his gaze slipped to her, held her chin just a little bit stronger, until she realized she had nothing that she needed to prove to him and she went back to focusing on herself as they walked.
As was the entire purpose for this trip.
It was Elrohir who smiled freely at her, putting her at ease and quieting the nerves that had sprung up with his sudden presence next to her.
"Emelia."
"Peculiar name."
"Peculiar person," She said, happy, in spite of herself, to see that he smiled at her in a way that lacked any and all mockery. She observed him more closely, taking note of what she could in the dimmed light from the moon. It was likely to rain soon, if the clouds were the omen she thought them to be, and what little she could see would disappear entirely.
"You have known Legolas long?"
"Well, probably not as long as you considering the whole immortality thing, but just long enough to really get a feel for what kind of person he is. You?"
Elrohir tilted his head and Emelia had to fight the urge to point out how similar to Legolas he looked when he did it. Like little birds distracted by something shiny, the lot of them. "We met when he first came to Imladris eight hundred years ago. A short time, by elvish reckoning."
"I'm sure." They both looked forward, watching as Legolas said something, apparently offensive, and Elladan shot him an acidic look. "Has he always been so," She paused, several words coming to mind that she should probably not say out loud.
"Yes."
Emelia smiled, looking down at her feet for a brief moment. "I figured. He isn't so bad, despite his best efforts."
"Where did you meet?"
She pondered briefly which answer she should give- in a forest surrounded by elves, dwarves, and spiders, or in his father's prison. She settled for the halfest of half-truths, hoping that, despite all his perceptions, Elrohir was not also a mind reader. "I was traveling through Mirkwood and he was kind of enough to escort me to the other side." Who would have thought that all it would take for her to develop a diplomatic streak was a bit of light trauma and more near death experiences than she could count on both hands. "Don't suppose you've ever had the pleasure of experiencing the hospitality of King Thranduil?"
Or lack thereof.
She wasn't in the business of splitting hairs, however, and she hoped he would be able to see through to the meaning behind her words.
Elrohir smirked and nodded, an untold story clear and enticing on his handsome features. "That is a story for around a campfire, I am afraid, and when Legolas is not within hearing distance."
"I look forward to hearing it." And she did. At the very least, she looked forward to the idea of it. Seeing the conspiratorial look on his face, she decided to press him about it at a later date, if there was a later date. "You were not in Rivendell when I passed through?"
"No, I was not, although my sister was." He looked out at the trees they passed, hand gripping his sword ever so slightly tighter. "She spoke of you."
"Only good things I'm sure."
"You jest, but she was quite complimentary." He looked back at her, eyes dancing up to the scarf on her head before moving on. "Your hair made quite the impression. As did your queer traveling companions."
"Could be worse. She could have remembered my personality." His lips quirked upwards again. "Is she still there? I don't remember seeing her in January."
Elladan's head whipped back to face her and she was certain she had asked the exact wrong question, although she didn't have the foggiest why. Even Legolas looked confused, although he did a much better job of covering it up. "She returned to visit our grandmother."
"She was recently in Lothlorien," Legolas said.
"And she decided to return." Elladan's tone left little room for discussion and it did nothing but further Emelia's desire to know more.
Silence stretched between them.
Emelia cleared her throat and flexed her hands around her spear.
Never in her life did she imagine that she would find herself at the center of awkward group dynamics even once in her life, let alone three times in less than a year. And all without a single thing to defuse the tension. She shared a look with Legolas as they both waited for the awkwardness to dissipate. When it didn't they turned their gazes on the twins, each watching the silent conversation that passed between them until Elrohir finally crossed the small distance and came to stand next to Elladan.
"Come, brother, let us scout ahead."
Elrohir clapped Elladan on the shoulder and pulled him along behind him, disappearing into the trees like two perfectly handsome ghosts. Emelia could only stand to hold in her comments for so long once they were gone, and she turned towards Legolas and let out a low whistle. "That was awkward."
"Elladan has always been more serious than his brother, although this seems unusual even for him."
"There has to be a story there."
"Perhaps."
"Oh come on, you know there is." Emelia elbowed him, wagging her eyebrows, surprising even herself at her desire to know more. She should be annoyed that her time, which was supposed to be spent alone, was being invaded by not one but three elves and their apparent family drama, but she wasn't. Perhaps this was a sign of emotional growth. Or, at the very least, a sign that getting away from the Shire was the exact thing she needed to finally break through the final layer of grief that had clouded her mind for months. After a moment of deliberation, she decided to embrace it. "What do you think? Sibling squabble or something more serious?"
Legolas looked at her like he would not indulge in the conversation, but then a small smile appeared on his face and he leaned down slightly. "Something more serious. Arwen is quite calm by nature."
"You have to find out."
"You seem oddly interested for someone who wanted nothing more than to be alone only a few days ago."
"Shut up."
"It is merely an observation, mellon."
"Would you prefer I continue to be miserable?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.
"No, but I rather thought you would."
Emelia made a noise at the back of throat, but the smile did not drop off her face. "It must be the effect of your companionship. Don't let it go to your bleach-addled brain."
"Bleach?"
"Never mind."
"Am I to assume that would be classified the same as Latin?"
"No, but I'm not going to expla-" The first goblin jumped out in front of them with an arrow through its neck. It stumbled a bit, gurgling on its own blood, before it slumped to the ground with a thud. Emelia immediately rounded on Legolas, mouth agape. She gestured to the goblin, truly baffled, and waited for the explanation that wasn't likely to be very satisfying. He turned his back to her and fired five arrows into the forest in rapid succession, grunts, much like the rabbits made, following quickly after. "You didn't hear them coming? What's the point of having superpowers if you aren't going to use them?"
"Perhaps it was the tone of your voice that both attracted them and distracted me." He fired three more arrows before he turned back to her.
"A warrior of your caliber should never be distracted."
"I am not. And you should know that there are more goblins coming our way."
Emelia ducked just before Legolas shoved her down, both of them landing on the ground in a mess of limbs as three crude arrows whizzed over their heads. He popped back up immediately, bow in hand, and rushed over to the fray, leaving her sitting in the dirt with what could only be described as a petulant scowl on her face.
"Fucking elves." She made sure Legolas heard her and was rewarded with a distinctly sour look in direction.
Elladan and Elrohir crashed back through the trees, swords drawn and already dripping in blood. Behind them, more goblins pursued, weapons raised and expressions focused. They didn't look like the goblins she remembered, although that could have been due to the fact that she had done everything she could to block them out of her memory entirely. The closest goblin to her was more than sixty feet away allowing her the time she needed to remember herself, to remember what she was capable of. Scrabbling around in the dirt next to her, she kept her gaze on the goblin as her hand found the familiar wood of her spear. As much as she wanted to throw it, she had learned enough over the last year to know that leaving herself without a weapon was, at best, annoying, and, at worst, borderline suicidal.
Using the end of the spear as leverage, she got to her feet and looked around the small clearing.
There certainly were thirty of them, if not more, all streaming towards them from the trees, from over rocks, and from the thickets. Most were small, barely tall enough to reach her shoulders, but a few towered over her. With gangly arms, pale white skin, and eyes as bright as lanterns, they looked less and less like humans the longer she stared at them. Still, her breath hitched and she felt the familiar hesitation that always came when she was confronted with defending herself. She thought of the first goblin she killed and how much that had affected her mental state for a few days. She had been virtually helpless then, more concerned with keeping in the good graces of Thorin than she had been with keeping herself alive, but she was determined to not make the same mistake again.
Emelia stalked towards the goblin, spear gripped firmly in her hand, and set her eyes on the soft bit of skin just beneath its jaw.
When nothing but the length of her arms stood between them, she shoved the spear forwards, catching the goblin off guard as it turned towards her.
It slumped to the floor as she pulled the spear back, dropping a crude knife at her feet, as blood spilled out from the now gaping wound in its neck.
"I would not touch that," Legolas said, practically swanning past her as he cut through the goblins with lethal precision. "It is very likely diseased."
"I'd certainly be doing you a favor then."
Legolas had the nerve to give her a cheeky smile in response as he swung around and sliced across two particularly large goblins, catching them both in the middle and stopping them in their tracks with a matching pair of pained grunts. They fell to the ground together, one over the other, and continued to twitch for a moment longer before they moved no more. Legolas turned away from her and continued fighting, moving in tandem with both the twins as if they had been fighting side by side for a lifetime.
A twig snapped behind her and she turned, spear pressed forward. A knife came out of the darkness of the trees and caught the side her spear with so much force it sent it flying out of her hands.
"Do not move."
Emelia struggled to see the man on the other end of the knife, but she still followed his instructions. His hands were darker than hers, like he spent a large amount of time in the sun, but covered in an almost unspeakable amount of dirt. Still keeping the knife held towards her, he stepped closer, bringing his features more into the pale light of the moon. He was much taller than her, although that feat was not remarkable, and had dark brown hair pulled back from his face and the first beginnings of a beard. The acne on his face made her think they were close in age and she tried not to get excited by the very idea. He watched her for a moment longer before he dropped the knife and sheathed it, eyes never leaving her face.
"Are you injured?" It was more assessing than chivalrous.
"I'm fine."
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she realized her mistake. She had been told by Bilbo, and numerous other well-meaning, if not nosy, hobbits that her accent was off-putting. The effect was worse when she didn't change her words to match the normal pattern. Instead of panicking, like she wanted to, she held his gaze and waited for him to speak again.
He didn't. At least not to her.
"You have saved us, Strider." One of the twins called, voice laced with unnecessary drama.
"You had it well in hand."
Elrohir materialized out of nowhere and threw an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer with a mischievous smile on his face that made the other man, boy more likely, visibly uncomfortable. Emelia, sensing that she was an unwelcome third wheel, turned away and picked up her spear, hoping that Legolas would have an explanation for her. She found him with Elladan, weapons sheathed and surrounded by dead goblins. She picked her way over to them, sidestepping the bodies with a degree of precision that would make her parents miserable.
"Well that was fun." Elladan did not find the humor. "So, who are they?"
Elladan stared across the small clearing at Elrohir and the other man, ignoring her question in favor of leveling them with an almighty glare.
"Rangers."
"Oh," Emelia paused, realization dawning on her after a moment. "Oh, rangers. Is it him?" Legolas nodded and she found herself staring at the ranger again. "He seems to know Elrohir well."Elladan scoffed and Legolas and Emelia were once again left in the dark. She raised her eyebrows when she saw Elrohir gesture over at her, arms sweeping and movements enthusiastic. "I think we're being talked about."
"You would be correct," Legolas said, moving to start gathering up his arrows. She followed him and picked up a few as well, unable to stop herself from glancing over at Elrohir and the ranger every few seconds. "Only flattering things, do not worry."
"I wasn't." They shared a look, one that was familiar and hinted at a sort of kinship that Emelia had never felt with him. "Do you think we're going to keep going?"
Legolas paused, looking up at the sky for a moment, before he shook his head emphatically. "There is a storm coming and I do not fancy trying to sleep in the rain. You would get sick. I have stayed at their encampment twice. You would be welcome, I believe, as I have been in the past." She had half a mind to tell him that humans were not nearly as fragile as what he imagined, but she didn't much fancy trying to sleep in the rain just because she was stubborn. Gathering up the last of the arrows that were within her reach, she walked back over to Legolas and peered up at him. He held out his hand and took the arrows, seemingly confused by the sudden change in expression on her face. "What?"
"Nothing. It's just that was very caring." Legolas rolled his eyes and shoved the arrows back into the quiver on his back. "Anyway, how much you want to bet I can get the ranger to tell me his real name before you?"
His laugh broke whatever tension remained and she hoped that would continue through the rest of the night, but from the look on Elladan and the ranger's faces, she wasn't likely to get her wish.
The camp was much larger on the inside than it appeared from first glance. The twins made their way easily through the worn-down path, walking side by side with the rangers rather than being led like Emelia and Legolas. Legolas did not seem as at ease, mirroring Emelia's flickering gaze as they walked through the lines of tents. He kept close to her, hovering just behind her back.
Very few people looked out at them and the ones who did only spared a glance or two before returning to their families. It was well into the night and the campfires had burned low, but it did nothing to dissuade the people from gathering around them, smiles on their faces and drinks in their hands. The kids, most barely tall enough to reach her waist, clung to their parents and siblings and she felt the same familiar pang in her chest at the sight.
She buried the feeling.
She buried it with all the others and hoped that it would die eventually.
Legolas' hand on her shoulder steered her towards the largest tent in the small clearing. It glowed from within, offering the promise of a warm fire inside and a reprieve from the biting wind that had sprung up in their long walk to the encampment. The ranger in the front of their small company pulled the flap back and stepped to the side, letting them all walk in single file before he stepped in behind Legolas and closed the tent.
The tent was filled to the brim with all manner of people, most so tall she thought their heads would soon brush the top of the tent. At the center stood a man that she instantly understood to be the leader.
"Any friends of the sons of Lord Elrond are friends of ours." He held out his arms, gesture welcoming for all but the look in his eyes. He was tall, although not the tallest in the room by a longshot, and had brilliant green eyes hidden behind a mess of grey hair and low set eyebrows. His clothes were covered in mud and grass stains but his face was clean and his beard well kept. Despite the warmth with which he greeted them, he still kept a sword strapped to his waist and a pair of knives on his belt. "What brings you so far north?" At his question, his gaze landed on Emelia. She was used to being considered an odd sight and an even odder traveling companion, but she still found herself bristling ever so slightly when his eyebrows raised and his smile turned wary. She held his gaze although she felt colder in her heart and in her mind for it.
He was not a man she would find kinship with. Instead she turned to the other people in the tent, taking in their faces and their clothes and their demeanor, and decided she quite liked the people who were looking back at her. There was a woman, no older than her mother would be now, with a mess of nearly white blonde hair, who offered her a tight-lipped smile that Emelia happily returned. At her knees, her equally blonde children did the same, one even waving at her with a dirt covered hand. Behind them, and old man stood with his hands on the shoulders of the woman in a gesture of strength and support.
"I am going to Forochel." She tried to add a hint of authority to her voice as she turned back to face the man. "Legolas kindly agreed to escort me."
"That is kind indeed. What business do you have?"
"Purely recreational." His salt and pepper eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she was forced to continue, a falsely pleasant look on her face. "My family is from the north."
"There are no human settlements past our camp."
"It isn't a settlement."
His eyes narrowed. "What is your family name?"
"Kinsington-Montgomery, but I doubt you would know them from Adam."
She tried not to contemplate the metaphysics of the whole ordeal, but Gandalf had done his level best to try and give her an explanation that would allow her to sleep at night. In their journey back to the Shire they had not spoken of it at first, each lost in their own thoughts, but when passed through Rivendell again and Emelia could no longer handle not knowing, Lord Elrond and Gandalf had tried to explain as best they could. It was a lot of words for very little understanding.
But she know understood that she was from beyond the Halls of Man, beyond reckoning of this world and its people, and there was no path back.
By grace or by force, coercion or persuasion, fire or water, the Valar had determined that she had a part to play and play it she would.
And that meant accepting the things she had tried so long to keep buried, acknowledging the pain she had been feeling for over a year, and not hiding the truth of her circumstances beneath layers and layers of misinformation and omitted details. Her family deserved better from her than to be repressed along with everything else.
"No, I do not. Where have you been that you would need to return home to a family that is unheard of?"
Emelia chose her words carefully before she spoke, careful to not make her situation sound just as crazy as it actually was. Nevertheless, she was determined to tell the truth. "I was a member of the company of Thorin Oakenshield in all but name."
"Odd, for a women such as yourself, to be party to a dwarvish foolhardiness." The leader reached a hand up to stroke his beard. "From what our scouts have told us, you were successful. The dwarves of Ered Luin rejoiced at the news, although it has been many months since we have heard anything from that far east."
"They were."
"And now you are here. Erebor is no quick jaunt. Tell me, what of Thorin Oakenshield? We know the Mountain was reclaimed but not by who."
"No, it isn't." She could feel the memories of what happened at the Mountain slamming against the walls she had stubbornly built, begging to be remembered, begging to be felt, but she refused. "I did not get along with Thorin most of the time. He banished me from the Mountain and I haven't had any contact since. Before I left, they retook Erebor, but I don't know who holds it. His cousin Dain ruled in his stead, but who knows? A lot can change in eight months."
"Banishment, from what I understand, is not a sentence taken lightly."
"I'm not a criminal, if that what's you think."
"I do not know what to think of you," He said, rubbing a hand over his beard again. "And I do not believe that you are simply a traveler that has crossed into our camp, but you may stay here until the weather passes. The Peredhil have vouched for your character to our rangers." The man lifted his chin and the ranger that Legolas had been obsessing over stepped forward. "Strider will take you to a tent. I would ask that you do not leave it unless you are escorted."
Emelia nodded, inclining her head again. When no one else moved she realized that she was meant to go alone. Strider held his arm out, gesturing for her to go first from the tent. She could feel Legolas watching them, but she did not look back. She would see him when he was done and her mind was already on the bed that was waiting for her in the tent, her mental exhaustion catching up with her suddenly and completely.
There were multiple cots, piled high with wool blankets and furs. They understood cold here in the north, even if it was still summer, and did not mess around with leaving people, their guests no less, to shiver through the night. Strider moved into the tent and set down the small lantern on the ground, away from any furs, and stepped back. He seemed uncomfortable around her, although she didn't know why. Perhaps he thought she was liar, like his leader clearly did, or that she was up to no good.
"How old are you?" Emelia asked, turning her back to him as she dropped her stuff on the ground with a thud.
The silence stretched between them as she waited for his answer.
"Seventeen, almost eighteen."
"And you're a ranger?"
All she could think of when she said that was of the Walker, Texas variety and she did her best not to laugh. He seemed to notice the new smile on her face, however, and pursed his lips slightly, clearly unhappy with being the butt of whatever joke was on her mind.
"And you?" The question seemed to be practically dragged out of him, the discomfort clear and evident on his face. She found it endearing and she understood why Legolas was so hellbent on figuring the guy out.
"Nineteen, maybe." She threw open her pack and pulled out a change of clothes and threw them onto the cot. "Do you think it's past midnight now?"
"No, not quite."
"Then still stubbornly eighteen, I'm afraid."
"If you need anything," He started towards the flap. He ducked out before she could say anything else, although he had the decency to give her an apologetic look on the way. To her horror, when he opened the tent flap, she saw Legolas standing there.
"That was awkward."
Emelia turned away as he walked into the tent, closing it behind him. "You're right. He is a little weird."
"I never said weird. Only that he was not what I expected." Legolas sat down on one of the cots and she could feel his gaze on her back. "We should be able to leave in the morning, if the weather is not too disagreeable. You confused the Chieftan mightily, but Elladan and Elrohir were able to convince him of your friendliness."
"That was generous of them."
"A gift from the Valar, they called you." Emelia snorted and kicked off her boots, trying to imagine the look on the rangers faces at hearing that little nugget. "Gandalf was never so flowery in his language, so I believe they have been gossiping with Lord Elrond about you."
"You elves do love your gossip."
"Indeed. Regardless, they will not question you further if you do not wish it. I think you have created a bit of mystery with all your talk of banishment that will follow you long after you leave here."
Emelia smirked, rubbing her feet as she sat back on the cot. "And the others?" He, perhaps knowing how much it annoyed her, waited for her to clarify. "Are they coming tomorrow?"
"Well, that depends."
"On?"
"Are we going north or south?"
"North." Her answer was clear and firm, leaving no room for argument.
"Then you will be happy to know that Strider is being sent as an escort."
"Why?"
"Curiosity?" He wasn't convinced and neither was Emelia. "Or maybe they do not trust your intentions."
"And what would those intentions be?" She asked, staring up at the canvas of the tent. Outside, lightning struck nearby and their whole tent illuminated. After only a moment, the sky opened up and pelted them with rain. Emelia sighed and laid back on her cot, thankful to feel it was just as soft as she imagined. She needed to clean up, perhaps wash in some way, but she also very much liked the idea falling asleep right then and there. Sleep was hard to come by these days so she tried to take advantage whenever she felt just the least bit tired.
She sank back into the cot more and pulled the thick blanket over herself, snuggling down. Vaguely she recognized the sound of the tent flap opening and a pair of elves stepping inside, but she didn't open her eyes to confirm, confident that if she was needed Legolas would be sure to nudge her back awake.
"A raven arrived from Ered Luin." Elrohir let the statement linger for the briefest of moments before he continued. "The King Under the Mountain lives."
Emelia's eyes snapped open, sleep all but forgotten.
Hellooo comrades! I hope there are a few of you left reading this, lol. Life is, as usual, crazy as usual, but I have managed to finally graduate and pass the Bar Exam! Ya girl is a whole-ass adult now (gross, I know).
Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter!