Don't own, don't profit

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Finally I found my title :)


***Thorin***


He did not know how much time had passed from when he first heard the woman. He must have fallen asleep a few times, as he could tell the day was advancing. He still heard her now and again and once or twice he even caught a glimpse of something moving.

He wanted to say something, but he was in a strange place and the woman had spoken words he did not understand. Should he speak she would know him to be a dwarf. Would she still come to his aid? Likely not. From the little he glimpsed she was of the men. Why would a woman of men risk herself for a dwarf?

Still, the honorable thing to do would be to alert her about who she was risking her life for. He wanted to live and menfolk and honor did not go hand in hand in his experience. Once he was freed he would pay her for her troubles and they would both go their way.

He was sure the woman was trying to reach him, although why she was doing it all alone he did not know. He tried to twist himself a little to see what she was doing, but could not. So he waited.


***Yeva***


To work!

She felt so much better for having been able to drink! Although now that she had her supplies, she couldn't understand why she didn't think to add at least a chocolate or even something more substantial.

This discovery was followed by another: she did not have any extra cord. She did not think to take another spool with her.

It was disheartening to notice how little she had thought things through, despite running around for at least a couple of hours looking for this and that.

"No food and no cord. Why, congratulations, my dear! I'm sure you can do even better if you'd just put your mind to it."

The very good news was that the tree was well fixed in the mud. When she first saw it she didn't consider its position, aside from the obvious: it was an uprooted tree on the other bank and a person might be caught in its roots. Now that she was right beside it she could see that it was not upright. It was just a very tall tree, hence her impression of it being upside down when in fact the only thing keeping it from falling completely was that it probably didn't have enough room to do so.

"Eh mec!" she said by way of making her presence known, although if somebody was in there they were most likely passed out. She was making enough noise that the person must have known somebody was coming to her rescue. Yet they never said a thing - passed out for sure.

"Bouge pas, t'entends?"


***Thorin***


The blasted woman was yelling something. Should he answer? He should, lest she changed her mind and went back before freeing him from the tree. So after a moment's thought, he wiggled as much as he could to show that he was in there and grunted a greeting, although nobody would have taken it for such.

She was yelling again, more frantic now, so he stilled and waited. He wished he knew what she was saying.


***Yeva***


"Bouge pas!" she yelled as loud as she could. There was somebody in there! She was giddy with relief. She had been right to not give up too soon.

Knife and scissors at the ready, she thought the best she could do was to cut the cloth bundle just a little to free the poor soul and then gently let her slide towards the earth. It was doable, although if the person had an injured spine it would make things worse.

On the other hand, help was at least a day away and the alternative was death by hypothermia. What choice did they have?

It was relatively easy to climb the tree and make her way up towards the roots. Once there it was easy to see why the person could not free herself. What she thought was a particularly hefty root was a branch that became stuck in the root system. The way it was wedged it did a wonderful job of supporting the weight of whoever was in there, but because the cloth was caught in a stump the person could not move to free themselves. It became a sort of a cocoon and the position must have been very uncomfortable, as the whole thing was wide rather than long, so she must have been curled into a ball of sorts.

Yeva shuddered at the thought. She would not be able to walk for days should her knee ever be forced this way for hours on end.

When she was finally just above she thought she should say something. "Je commence à couper," she said, waiting for some acknowledgement. "Surtout, ne bougez pas," she added as an afterthought, eyeing the whole of it and wondering what kind of fabric it was. Wool? Boiled wool?

She was still considering how best to go about it when the curled up form spoke, a pair of eyes were looking intently at her: "Mahal's balls, woman, do something!"

A tourist! Of course it was a tourist and he probably didn't understand a word of French.

"Don't move, mon pote. You're some two meters above ground and I'm not cent pour cent certain you'll fall on the grass. There's a chance you'll slide towards the mud. Are you injured? Can you feel your legs?"


***Thorin***


He could understand some of what she was saying, although she spoke like no one he'd heard before. Even the words he knew were hard for him to grasp as her accent was all wrong.

And then she had a knife in her hand and his heart missed a beat.


***Yeva***


"Can you feel your legs? Can you grasp with your hands?"

All the response she got was a grunt while the man looked wildly at her knife. She could understand that. It must be pretty scary to be stuck while somebody came to you with a knife in their hand. So she looked at him again intending to reassure him, careful to appear calm and keep eye contact.

"Do I know you?" It wasn't what she intended to say, but she was struck by a sense of familiarity. "I feel like I should know you. Did we meet? Have you been to Alsace before?"

"Al - sahs? No."

"Alsace," she corrected, although it hardly mattered. She kept talking intent on putting him at ease. "I feel like I saw you before, but I don't remember when and where. Do you have a preference of where I should cut first? I think I should free your arms first, right?"

"Aye," was the reply she got and she suddenly felt like snapping at him. Get a grip, Yeye, he's injured and in pain, she thought to herself, what would you have him do? Chat you up?

She did her best to feel around him and cut just enough to allow a bit of movement of his head and he obliged and turned to look around and watch her cutting through the blanket. She gasped when he did so and even let out a small cry of surprise and saw him close his eyes and bow his head.

He was - misshapen; there was no other word for it. His head was too large, his ears even more so, and even his front was too high. The poor man, no wonder he kept his hair so long! You're an idiot, Yeye. He's just a man like any other, except he certainly got more than his share of people staring at him. Get a grip and get to work.

"So, can you move your arms? You never did say if you could feel your feet - I did ask you if you could feel your feet. Right? So can you? And do you think you can get hold of the tree?" She was babbling and probably annoying him, but she didn't know what else she could do. Apologize for staring? He probably wouldn't want that. She'll make it up to him later, she decided.


***Thorin***


He saw the exact moment when she realized he was a dwarf. Then she started talking faster, but would not look at him. Of course she would not look at me, he thought with some bitterness. She didn't back off, but continued to carefully cut the cloak, checking now and again to see if it held or looked about to rip. There was nothing more he could ask of her.

Then she started to hum, barely loud enough for him to make up the verses.

Now I'm living in this temple

Where they tell you what to do

I'm old and I've had to settle

On a different point of view

I was fighting with temptation

But I didn't want to win

A man like me don't like to see

Temptation caving in

"He's the best, isn't he? Cohen is," her voice cut through his thoughts. "How can you be both incredibly sad and cheeky in the same breath? My husband never did like him; he was a sucker for Adele, you know, and I cannot stand her. Can you imagine upwards of 5K spent on a sound system which was only ever used if one of us was home alone? I could count on the fingers of one hand the music we could both listen to together. Most of the time we both had our headphones on."

Was she trying to put him at ease? It seemed so, although he could not divine what her interest might be. Maybe she intended to ask for as much as she could get. That was a reasonable explanation, menfolk rarely, if ever, helped dwarves out of the goodness of their hearts.

"Where is your husband?" he asked. It would be better if there was a man around. From what he could feel of his legs he doubted he would be able to walk.

"Dead," she replied bluntly and then looked horrified at him. Maybe she didn't mean to impart that information to him? "My husband is dead," she repeated and looked down at her hands, "and You Want It Darker saw me through my mourning. I even tried Adele, you know, because he loved it so much and I wanted to - I don't know what I wanted."

"To still have him around," he replied and she shrugged.


***Yeva***


This time when she saw his hand she didn't gasp and she was almost certain she didn't flinch either. His hands seemed too large for the length of his arms, yet they looked like they fit. He had very muscular arms, needlessly so in her opinion, and she frowned while going through a checklist of why he would put in the work.

He never did answer her questions about his legs. She now suspected he was at least partly disabled. Upper body strength was mandatory if he wanted a measure of independence.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" The man grunted and twisted, trying to move away from her knife. "Did I stab you? Are you hurt? I'm so sorry! The knife caught onto something."

"'Tis nothing, do not worry yourself."

"I'll be more careful, I promise." He saw him trying to grab onto something, although she doubted any of the roots he could reach would be enough to support his weight. She was almost ready to detach him from his blanket and wasn't sure how to go about it.

"A breastplate! And bracers too. Nice work! Anyway, I cut through a lot already and what's left is mostly around your legs. I should free them now, but then you might fall." She saw him wince. Well, mon pote, you shouldn't have been out in the storm in a freakin' cosplay do. She shouldn't judge, but really at his age, he should've known better.

"Yeah, I know, but I don't see any other way. And you should know that there's a chance you'll fall in the mud. I'll have to push you towards the grass and - " she cut herself mid-sentence hardly believing her eyes.


***Thorin***


"Is that a sword?!"

"Nay," was all he answered. A sword would have a sturdier handle. Did she not know a dagger when she saw one? She was an odd one, the woman, but she did not look stupid. He waited for her to continue to cut through the cloak and free his legs. His blade was caught on something otherwise he would've taken it out and used it to free himself.

When she did not continue Thorin turned towards the woman, surprised to see she looked unsure of what she should do.

"That a prop?"

"A prop?"

"The sword. It must be."

He shrugged and she looked a bit calmer. He wondered what a prop was, but thought it better not to ask for an explanation. She was ill at ease with weapons, even though she had a large knife herself. Maybe her husband died in a battle? It was very likely, so he said nothing else, waiting for her to make up her mind. He was so close to being freed from the tree, he could almost see himself on the ground. He would do nothing to spook her now.

"You shouldn't have worn the full getup and be out in the storm," she chided. He had no idea what to say to her.

"It caught me unawares."

She muttered something to herself, and then he felt the cloth rip and started to slide.

"My leg is caught," he gasped as a sudden burst of pain knocked his breath from his lungs.

"Sorry, I'm very sorry, I'm working," she was again talking too fast for him to make up her words, but he felt that both of his legs were now free. She was smart, he would give her that, she cut him almost completely free, leaving only a strap around his middle. He grabbed onto it and waited for her to cut through. She didn't though, so he turned towards her again.

"You alright there? Hold on tight, k?"

"Just do it," he urged through his teeth. He wanted to get back on firm ground, but the anticipation of more pain didn't make him happy in the least. "Please," he added, hoping she would get to it.

He saw her nodding and then he was dangling from the tree, trying to swing himself to land on firm ground. He felt her trying to guide him and didn't know whether to be grateful she at least tried to be helpful or yell at her for pushing against his ribs. He let himself slide down as much as possible and then just let go of the cloak and hit the ground with a grunt of pain. He fully intended to roll on impact, but couldn't manage. His legs didn't work and twisting was out of the question. Mahal, but he had been in battles and came out with less damage!


***Yeva***


"You alright? Come on, talk to me!" He mumbled something, but too low for her to understand, so she went on. "I would like to try to feel your bones, see if there's anything broken or badly sprained. I don't have any formal training, but I've…"

"Water," he said louder, "please."

"Of course! Water! Of course you need water!"

She unscrewed a bottle and thought about giving it to him. No, it wasn't gonna work, he was barely able to breathe. As gently as possible she pushed the sac with the blankets under his head and then supported him - tried to, anyway - to help him drink.

For fuck's sake, he was heavy! That or she was too tired, which was indeed a possibility. She had to get him across the mud-filled ditch and into the house as soon as possible. She could feel herself tremble slightly and lose coordination - she needed sugar.

She could not keep her hands steady and he could barely lift his head. Whatever strength had sustained him until now was completely gone. Together they probably spilt more than half of the water.

"I'm Yeva," she said for lack of anything better.

"Thorin," he replied and minutely inclined his head in acknowledgement.

She laughed a little. His parents sure had a sense of humour. Should she have had children, she would never have saddled them with names of Norse gods and whatnot.

"We should cross back to my cabin as soon as possible. I wish us to be inside and get a fire going before long."

He nodded in response, but his eyes were closed and his breathing was still laboured. She would be lucky if he could manage to crawl to the edge and hoist himself on the board.

Ordinarily she would have said that the return trip would be easy. The cords were stretched between two sturdy trees on both banks and the sliding knots made it easy to shift stuff across the mud. However, neither of them seemed to have any strength left. How was she to pull herself, let alone him, she did not know.

"Are any of your bones broken? I have strips of cloth in my bag and I could… stabilize the bones, I guess. You should not move any further without taking care of your fractures, if there are any."

She was happy he could at least open his eyes and looked alert when he did. He was in pain, but he was not about to pass out.

"Is that you home?" he asked and Yeva nodded. "How would we walk across the mud?"

"Mon pote, that's a very good question. I have bodyboards, two of them - do you know what they are?" He nodded that he didn't, so she went on. "My husband liked anything with water, he did surfing too, although he didn't keep any boards here - Munster's not known for its waves. I crossed by stretching myself on the board and trying to paddle through the mud. It will be easier now because the cords are tied on both ends. Are you up to it?"

He grunted and tried to move, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"No, don't move just yet. I'll set up everything and then help you to the edge. Though we must hurry, the mud is settling faster than I thought it would. Here's the bottle, more water?"

She let him with the water bottle, worried about how hard his hands were shaking. Eyes on the ball, Yeye, she admonished herself, tout d'abord on rentre à la maison.

Easier said than done, of course. They were a few meters from the edge of the ditch, but even to her it looked like kilometers away - and she wasn't injured!

Crossing back proved to be… hard. Really hard. Without any rain to keep the mud in a semi-solid state it started to dry. It wasn't, however, dry enough to walk on it. Oh, no, far from it. It wasn't squishy enough to cross it with the boards either, not unless somebody would expend a hell of a lot of effort.

She didn't know what to do. Her plan looked good enough when she first thought about it, but she didn't take into account how long it would take, not that she could have imagined the mud drying out so fast anyway.

She thought about what they could do for some time, walked uphill and downhill to see if there were other crossing points and found nothing that would help.

She settled the foam board onto the mud, which was now just low enough compared to the edge to be noticeable. She secured it with its cord and tried to lower herself on it. It worked - kind of - but then she was able to move her arms and legs without restriction. She then tried to see if she could just pull herself over the mud. She couldn't. There was too little moisture left and the board would not slide.

"I don't know how we will cross back," she announced to him after about fifteen minutes of trying this and that. "I mean I know how I would cross back, but I'm afraid it won't work for you. You are heavy, you know," then she caught herself, "not that I'm one to judge. Well, in any case, right now I don't know how I can help you."


***Thorin***


He felt spent, his body had not a drop of strength left and just the thought of moving made him want to lie down and never again stir. It was very unlike him, but he just couldn't scold himself into doing something.

He did not notice the strangeness of the woman when she first appeared in the tree and set about cutting him loose from his bindings. He had been too tired, too thirsty and in too much pain. He was still tired and in pain, but he was not thirsty anymore. It all started with the water bottle, made from something that at first looked like glass, but behaved much like a fine sheet of metal. It crinkled in his hand when he grabbed it and he was very sure he probably cracked it, as water started to pour from it onto his chest.

Luckily the woman either didn't notice or if she did then she didn't care, because she said nothing. The woman… The menfolk women he had seen in his life looked nothing like her. Her speech was strange and when not talking to him she would mutter to herself in an unknown tongue. Her clothing was strange too - she wore a knitted woollen tunic, with a brightly coloured short vest the likes of which he'd never known before and her pants were made in the likeness of her vest. He had touched the fabric, although he refrained from touching her, and his only conclusion was that he did not know what it was: the fabric was very flimsy and yet it seemed it did not easily tear. Unlike that water bottle - he would be more careful in the future if she offered him water again.

Last but not least, she had been willing to help him even when she finally realized he was a dwarf and not a man of her kin. Even now she was fretting because she could not come up with a suitable method of bringing them both back to the safety of her cabin. It was an unexpected kindness and he appreciated it - and her.

He appreciated it all the more as he suspected the night would be cold and probably damp. He did not believe he would freeze to death, but it would not help to remain outside without food, dry clothing, or any way to make a fire in the sodden forest.

"How do you propose to cross back yourself?"

She frowned at first and took a moment to answer: "I'd thought to use both boards as stepping planks, although it's not feasible to stand upright. I'd keep them side by side and roll or wriggle from one board to the other."

"Then you would send them back and I could do the same?"

"Yes, I would bundle them and use the cord to carry them back to you. They are very light so that'd be no problem. However, I don't believe you can move well enough to cross like this. I should cross and look for some wooden planks or something that could span the ditch and be rigid enough for you to maybe crawl on it. Although -"

"Yes?"

"Can you crawl? I still don't know if you can move your legs."

"My legs are fine." It was clear she didn't believe him, so he continued: "I am in pain, I do not deny it, but nothing is broken or sprained, not in the legs. My left shoulder is wrenched and should be bound -" he saw her make a move towards her parcel and held up his hand to stop her. "Later. My right wrist is tender, but not sprained. I rested and I drank enough. I should be able to cross if you would show me how."

It was not exactly a lie. He didn't have any broken bones, that was true, but he left out his bruised ribs and the fact that he was feeling so weak it took all of his will to keep his voice steady. Even breathing was too much work, but she did not need to know that. It would only slow them down and he felt he had no choice but to push forward and try to get himself to the house.


***Yeva***


It was even more hard work the second time around. The cord didn't help as she was not on a river where she could pull herself. She was trying to cross a ditch filled with mud. Because the water had filtered down and the mud settled, there were a lot of branches, rocks, and various other debris, which made everything more difficult. It was hard to find flat patches. Where there weren't any she would stop and try to clear the path of all the largest and sharpest objects.

It was slow going, but in the end, she made it. Then she tied the two boards to the cord and sent them back to Thorin.

"I'll pull the supplies bag now if you don't need anything from it?" she half asked, half stated. He motioned for her to go ahead and so she did and then waited to see if he was up to crossing himself.

Amazingly he was up to it. He had way better than average upper body strength and despite what he said that his legs were fine and his shoulder wrenched, he mostly tried to make do by grabbing and pulling with his arms, rather than using his legs.

It would have been much simpler if he would just shed his frankly ridiculous suit. It was amazing the foam held up as well as it did, she'd have to ask what he used.