They were treating me weird, and I don't like it.
Maybe last night's debate had gone to their heads because now they won't stop looking at me with pity or some other emotion that I couldn't place. I couldn't figure out why though. Maybe they were salty that I was the only one with a different opinion to them, but that's not my fault. They still haven't told me what I said wrong, and Gandalf kept nipping every conversation about it before it even began.
I didn't really care how the Dwarves were treating me, minus Kili who seemed to be inching closer to me every hour, as it was only Bilbo that I cared for. Bilbo had been giving me those looks again. They were the same looks he would give me after every flinch, every panic attack, every crying session and just throughout the day even when I hadn't done anything.
I wasn't going to lie and say it didn't sting, even though I brought that upon myself. He must think I'm weak or pathetic with how much I break down. I would be annoyed too if I had to live with and have to take care of someone like me. I really have to stop putting that must stress on him all the time. It's not fair to have him worry about my mental health all day when he should be worried about his own.
Anyways, they were acting super weird. Weirder than normal.
Thorin, who only ever barked orders at me or would snap at me to hurry and keep up, had nodded at me in greeting, even though it ended with him saying that I would be washing all their clothes in
Like I said, Kili was getting all up in my space, claiming to want to help me load my horse, but had turned red and ran back to his own pony when I brushed his hand. Except he kept coming back and trying to start a conversation with me, which was weird all on its own.
Like bro, I've been traveling with you guys for 6 days already. Why are you talking to me now? I thought you guys hated Elves?
"So, Master Elf..." Kili started off, riding on the opposite side of me that Bilbo was. "If we're going to be traveling with each other, we should get to know more about each other. I've never met an elf before, and I am rather curious to know more about...lighter topics."
He squeaked out the last part as he looked past me. I glanced over, only to see Gandal glaring daggers at Kili and motioning him to shut up. Kili gave him a sheepish smile and turned back over to me. Gandalf nodded at me, but I wasn't sure what he wanted me to agree with there.
See what I mean by weird? They've been like this all morning and avoiding the topic, not to mention Gandalf keeping an eye on me and pushing off any Dwarf that has gotten near me. I don't know why, since they were fine talking about sex last night until I killed the conversation and Gandalf doesn't seem like the overprotective type. Bilbo just seemed surprised and suspicious at the sudden change in attitude, if his looks towards Kili are anything to go by.
They seemed to lighten up more than the past week, after that one night of rest in Bree (if you exclude the bar fight), so I guess the tensions were finally starting to die down from the adrenaline and stress of getting supplies and finishing quest preparations. Or they were finally getting used to me being there. Kili certainly was (though I wasn't going to put away the thought of Thorin sending him to spy on me, that rude bitch).
"What would you like to know?" I asked, putting my book down.
I had read as much as I could and I was starting to give myself motion sickness, so I shoved it back in my bag next to my sketchbooks. I should really start drawing more on this quest, now that I have the time and the energy. I just have to make sure they don't see any of my edgy drawings. That would be embarrassing.
"I know very little other than your name, which must be the same for you. I should like to know as much as you are willing to tell, and I should like to speak of myself to you. If I ask you a question, you may ask me one in return?"
Ok, so a game of twenty questions. Not my favorite party game, but it would be good to pass the time. I may not like the Dwarves all that much, but it would be easier to travel with them if I'm at least on speaking terms with them. Kili seemed to be the friendliest so far.
"Why not? What's your first question?" I asked.
Kili's eyes lit up and I felt a shiver go down my spine. It was the same smile my little sister had when she was planning something.
"I'll start with something simple. What's your favorite color?"
Oh, so we're going with the basic of the basic. At least it was an easy question and not something completely off the walls or personal.
"I like any shade of pink. It's calming and pretty. Though I do prefer lighter pinks to the darker ones. My entire room would be pink, if only the fabric and paint were available. What about yours?"
Kili seemed to be thinking and troubled by this, which I don't understand since it's just a color. Do my color choices offend you now, my guy? Are you one of those lunatics that think that favorite colors and star signs dictate your personality?
"I suppose I prefer dark blues or reds, but it depends on what color fabric is available. I never looked for many colors elsewhere, nor have I given pink much of a thought, but I just might if you adore it so much."
Well, I wouldn't say "adore". I just love that color and have built my entire wardrobe in my last life around it, along with my aesthetic preferences and even my stuffed animal collection. I am a hoarder of everything pink and was so sad when I found that the Hobbits barely had any, even flowers.
Bilbo had been sweet about trying to get me as much pink fabric as possible, even going so far as to commission Parsley on occasion to dye it herself, but it was never the shades I wanted. They were too dark or muted, which wasn't her fault, and I was happy about it regardless.
"What about your favorite gemstone? Or favorite types of metals?" He asked, suddenly perking up more.
That seemed like a weird question, but I wasn't one to judge the tastes of Dwarves. Stones and metals are important to them, so maybe this was their version of asking what your favorite song is.
"If we're counting crystals and non-gems, I like Rose Quartzes and Pearls, though Sapphires are pretty too. As for metals, I'm not a fan of any of them, even if they're molded into trinkets. I prefer woodcarvings to metal objects, as strange as that is. They feel warmer in a sense."
Now Kili looked absolutely crushed, despite me once again not saying anything remotely offensive. I know damn well I didn't say anything wrong that time, since he just asked me my opinion. It wasn't like I insulted his craft anyways, if metal working was his craft, so I don't get why he looks so sad.
"You admire woodworking?" Bofur spoke up from behind me, startling all of us (including Bilbo, who almost dropped his monstrosity that he called crochet). "What type of trinkets do you like?"
Oh jeez, man. Where did you even come from? I thought you were busy talking to your family, not eavesdropping on our conversation. Not that I blame you since we were talking in the open and I am also a nosey bitch, but a little warning next time would be lovely.
"Um, I like children's toys made from wood. Stuff like carved animals and objects, but I also like wooden boxes with patterns burned into them. I'm not a big fan of jewelry or ornaments, since I would never wear them, but I think those are nice to look at too. You're a woodcarver, aren't you, Master Bofur?"
Bofur turned a bit pink for some reason and smiled wide.
"Why yes, I am! It's very kind of you to remember my name and craft, Master Elf." Bofur beamed.
It's not that big of a deal to know your name, my guy. You stuck out the most to me in the movies, so I could point you out more easily. You had more than one line and at least part of a personality, even if it was just showing you stating the obvious.
If only you would stop with that title. It made me feel weird and not in a good way.
"You can just call me Glírae. You don't have to put a title in front of it. I'm not a master of any craft, nor am I a member of high society." I waved him off. "It just sounds weird with my name."
None of the Hobbits in the Shire had bothered with any titles for me after the first month, since I was around so much and have taken care of so many kids. Plus, I'm pretty sure that Elves don't use titles for each other outside of their Lords and Royals, which I am not, according to that book. With my luck, I'm pretty sure I'm at the bottom of society. Barely a peasant.
You would think I'd be annoyed at that, but I actually find it quite comforting. I don't have any social responsibilities, nor do I have to be worried about leading people. I know most OCs would want to be an Elven lady or from a good, noble family because the life of luxury is easier, but I'm content with where I am.
"I'll remember that for next time then." He said, excitedly bouncing on his pony's seat. "You say you're not a master yet, but do you have a craft? I've heard that Elves are known for their forging and skills in almost any craft they wish. Surely you must be good at crafting something!"
Well, not really, unless you count my sketches and my sewing. That is technically a family craft, since I learned them from my abuela and mother, but they're only good enough for compliments at craft fairs and from friends that want me to make stuff for them. My embroidery was pretty good, I guess, but I never enjoyed doing it. My sketches weren't the best and even less so in Middle Earth, since I don't think they'd appreciate anime girls with unrealistic body types of cat features.
(Leave me alone. I like drawing women. It makes me happy)
I guess I'm not up to standard on crafts, but that was fine. I lived with Hobbits who appreciated what I did, and it wasn't like I was going to need to make anything in the future to sell. If I really need something for the future, I'll ask Parsley to teach me how to make more clothes. I'm a fast learner and already know more than the basics when it comes to stitches and fabric types.
I couldn't respond before Bilbo interrupted us.
"He's great at embroidery, sewing, cooking and cleaning. From what I've seen him draw, he is decent at that as well. Though I think his best talent is singing and storytelling."
I looked back to see Bilbo, who was struggling with that knotted mess that in no way resembled anything you can make with yarn, smiling at me, though his eyes told me to keep my mouth shut before I put myself down again. Damn this Hobbit and his ability to guess my next move.
I wouldn't say that singing is my best talent. I sing all the time, yeah, but that's mostly to keep my ADHD from taking over and it's a bit from home that I can bring here. I don't have my headphones or my music that I can just play every time I get overwhelmed, so this is the best alternative.
The six years of vocal lessons my father put me in helped, not going to lie. I was a better singer than the average person, especially when it came to belting and growling, but I wasn't the best by any means. Sure, I could control my voice, but I'm betting that the average Elf can do that too. Those guys are rumored to be the best musicians in the world, singing songs of masterpieces on the daily, so they wouldn't be too impressed with my bedroom singing of "Monster by KIRA".
Bilbo is a sweetheart, but he overestimates my talents. I think it's because he doesn't have any creative talent, so he automatically assumes that whatever I do is good. It's kind of like when a parent compliments their kid's drawing because love blinds them too much to see how shitty the scribbles are.
"You sing?" Ori asked, also joining the conversation. "Can you sing something for us? It's rather dull traveling without song or poem to entertain."
Uh, when did everyone start talking to me? I thought you guys were avoiding me after last night. It's really weird to suddenly be the center of attention after being ignored for a good week. I'll pretend that spike of anxiety didn't hit me when I heard the request.
Before I could deny singing, another annoying voice interrupted.
"So, the elf has the talents of a common servant." Thorin muttered, though not really since it was heard by everyone. "Is that why you live with the halfling?"
What? You got a problem against servants, dude? I knew you were a judgmental piece of work, but I didn't take you for one who was classist. They're people just like the rest of us, and I can't stand how they're mistreated in this time period. I've read the horror stories in history articles and seen documentaries of the Middle Ages. I refuse to be part of a system that is ok with hitting a person as punishment, even if it probably isn't as common here.
I'm not a servant, though. I may clean Bilbo's house and sew his torn clothes, but I refuse to be considered a servant. I'm not going to devote my life to serving another person. That may be what my grandmother and mother chose, but I refuse. I refused to serve a husband, the church and a low paying job that will run me to the ground.
"He is not my servant! He is my friend, and you will do well to remember that!" Bilbo snapped. "He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to. Including singing for us!"
I wasn't going to anyways. I'm not comfortable with that much attention yet and my taste in music might be too depressing at the moment. I have "Numb Little Bug" stuck in my head and that might be inappropriate.
"Will you not sing for us?" Ori asked again. "I would love to hear elvish songs. They are said to be the most beautiful things one has ever heard."
I shook my head.
"I don't know any elvish songs, sorry. I'm not a minstrel, so I was never trained in or learned any of them. Most of the songs I sing are pretty...strange, and none of them are conventional." Ori frowned sadly, which made my chest tighten. "B-But I can recite poetry pretty easily. Would you like to hear one?"
Ori smiled proudly and I swallowed hard at what I just got myself into. In truth, I only really memorized like three poems for my speech class and one of those was a poem for children. I gulped again when I saw everyone looking at me, even Bilbo (though his was only of concern). I took a deep breath, looked ahead, and started speaking.
""Will you walk into my parlor?" said a spider to a fly;
" 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy..."
They found the poem disturbing, but Ori had liked it enough to have me repeat it several times for him to write it down. They liked the message of not trusting strangers just because they seduce you with words and Gandalf even compared it to Sauron's seduction of Celebrimbor, so I consider this a win.
By dinner time, everything had gotten a lot less tense than yesterday. Thorin had still made us clean everything and had made side comments about how slow I was for a servant, for which I had to grip onto Bilbo before he could tackle a bitch. Balin had given me my dinner this time, since Kili was busy talking with Fili about plans for a gift or something. Must have been someone's birthday.
We had eaten surprisingly early, and it didn't take long to clean all the dishes. It was still light enough outside to see by the time we were done. I was just going to assume that we were taking a break, but then I was handed a large mound of clothes and rags, along with a small sewing kit, by an annoyed Thorin.
"There is a stream nearby. Wash these and bring them back. I want them clean and dry by tomorrow morning with minimal stains. Sew together any rips and tears and don't add any new ones. I'll send someone out with you to keep watch. Go now."
I could barely nod before he turned and walked away. Bilbo sputtered in outrage behind me, but I ignored it and started walking towards the sound of rushing water. The hobbit pushed himself up, grabbed the washing board and kettle pot, and ran after me to assist. I could practically hear the steam coming out of his ears and his heart rate going up.
Loosen up, my guy. He was just giving me instructions. It's not like he was rude about it, even if he was a bit direct, so I don't see the point of getting mad. I have to pull my weight here somehow if I wanted to be here.
Besides, laundry was fun for me. It was repetitive and calming, something I knew how to do, and I could just sing my way through it to entertain myself. Bilbo had no problem with me doing all the laundry myself at home, so I don't see why he's so upset here.
The stream was only like 10 feet away, behind a few trees and in a clearing. It was really pretty, even if the water was full of leaves from the nearby trees. But the water was clear and warm, even in the spring air, so I didn't have to worry about my hands freezing off.
"Bilbo, it's fine. Don't say anything to him. I'm already going to wash clothes. It's not worth it to just make him mad." I said, finding a clearing to start a fire with Bofur's, who was apparently our escort, help.
Bofur was quick to get the fire going and collect water from the stream. He didn't say much, but he was very helpful in filling the pot. It was too small to wash all the clothes at once, but I had all night, so I wasn't that big of a deal.
"You cannot just let him order you around like that. You are not his servant nor are you his to command. If you want to wash clothes, it's fine, but don't do it just because he tells you to."
I shook my head, smiling and ruffling his hair.
"They need to be washed regardless. Rough as he is, he is right about cleaning them for the journey. You may not like it, but I'm not bothered by chores. Sure, he can be nicer about it, but it's not the end of the world. You don't have to help me if you don't want to."
Bilbo huffed and rolled up his sleeves.
"I'm helping you with this. I meant it when I said that we are under the same contract. Now, hand me that bar of soap. I can prepare the water to soak the clothes in." Bilbo nodded. "But I request that you sing. You know my favorites."
I laughed and threw the clump of soap at him. He caught it, only to have it slip out of his hands and into the pot. Bilbo flushed in embarrassment and looked away, glaring at Bofur for snickering.
"What song do you want first, Bilbo?" I asked.
"Anything in Spanish. It's a beautiful language to hear." He replied.
I nodded and knelt down by the pile of clothes to sort them out
"Dos oruguitas enamoradas
Pasan sus noches y madrugadas..."
I sang for three hours, switching from English to Spanish and back. Bilbo requested song after song, sometimes singing along to them with me. Bofur looked completely amazed at most of them and had even started crying at "What Else Can I Do?", so we had to wait for him to stop before continuing.
The clothes were done by the time the sun went down. It was hard work, but satisfying and fun and I was smiling brightly by the time I hung up the last of the rags to dry. Bilbo and I were soaking wet, covered in soap and sweaty, but I loved every second of it.
It was refreshing and perfect, to see the fruits of my labor in front of me. It was my favorite part of chores. Seeing the end results of my hard work, to see everything clean when it was so dirty before. Now all I had to do was wait for them to dry tomorrow to sew them back up. Then I can be extra happy again.
If only my joy wasn't ruined by my nightmare that night.