Chapter 19: Smitten

Edyth sits down with Oin who is cleaning away the broken skin on her face with a damp cloth. The Elves have already offered their healers, but the other Dwarves are content with sticking to their own.

"It looks a bit nasty, but it needs nothing more than a good clean," Oin declares, finishing off his work. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go convince our dear leader to sit still."

Edyth nods, mumbling a thanks, confused as to why Oin would need to see Thorin. She watches with a slightly turned head as the grey-haired Dwarf makes his way over to Thorin who is sitting with Dwalin on the outskirt of their small camp. Thorin sighs but nods to Oin who speaks to him, pulling off his fur overcoat. Along Thorin's left upper arm is three short cuts.

Edyth's head drops suddenly, chin falling into her hand. He got those from the Warg that was about to pounce on her. She hasn't even thanked him – did he want her thanks or would he rather her not speak to him at all? She hadn't run fast enough – no, she had stopped running for a minute and that allowed the beast to catch up. Swallowing the growing bile in her throat, she dares another glance at Thorin. The Dwarf is paying no mind to Oin, still talking away with Dwalin as his wounds are cleaned.

Searching for a distraction, Edyth looks around for some company. Bilbo has left to find somewhere to bathe before dinner. Kili and Fili are talking amongst themselves in a manner that doesn't seem welcoming for her to join. She looks around a few more times before settling on Bofur and Balin who are perched on a seat against the stone wall.

"It seems you may be able to try their wine after all," she chirps, joining the pair on the seat. Bofur tips his head in agreement.

"It seems so lass. How's your face doing? I see you got a bit scratched up."

"It's fine," she answers honestly. "Itchy though. Oin doesn't have anything to calm it down."

Bofur scrunches his nose, plopping the end of his piper into his mouth. "Ah, that's no good. Maybe that pointed ear laddie from earlier could get something for it."

"Lindir," she snips. "He has a name."

Bofur blanches slightly at her tone, removing the pipe from his mouth. "Oo, oo," he drawls loudly, a cheeky smirk drawing on his lips. "Someone is a little defensive." He gets up from his seat, walking backwards, tipping his head towards Edyth. "I think someone has a little crush." Edyth's ears burn, eyes flickering around consciously to see whose ears are prying. A few are drawn to Bofur's loud words who revels in her glare. "Don't think I didn't see you staring."

"I do not," she scoffs, not wanting to play into the childlike teasing. "But I do like your idea." She stands back up, straightening her vest in the most dignified manner she can produce. "I'll be back." Stalking out of camp, her eyes flick around, trying to begin navigating. Heavy footsteps thud behind her, earning a sigh from her lips. "I don't know what you're hoping to see," she drawls to Bofur. "I'm just going to ask him to guide me to the healers."

Bofur holds up his palms defensively. "I'm just escorting you, lassie. It's only right to accompany a lady where she travels."

"A lady am I now?" she grins, continuing walking with her arms folded. "You should inform the others that." She has seen the Dwarves in many situations which are definitely not fit for a lady. More than once she's had to slap her hands over her eyes and smelt rotten things from their backside. The stench of Dwalin's feet when he takes off his boots is revolting. Nevertheless, she chuckles at the memories. "How long do you think we'll be here for?"

"No telling," Bofur shrugs. "Probably no longer than absolutely necessary."

Edyth hums in agreement. "Definitely not." She pauses, biting the inside of her cheek. "He's going to be alright, right?" Bofur frowns at her and Edyth realises her lack of context. "Thorin," she adds. "He hurt his arm."

"Oh," Bofur huffs lightly. "Yeah, just a scratch. He'll be healed up in no time."

Edyth nods, a little relieved but still apprehensive about the ordeal. She cannot push the guilt away knowing that it was her actions that caused him harm. And no matter how much she may dislike him personally, he means a great deal to the Dwarfs and he's respectable at the least. And what has she actually done for the company besides be in the way? The ponies being taken was her fault by distracting his nephews. Then by being caught by said Trolls which lead to their capture and near-death by fire and Troll teeth. And then add on her two faults during the chase with the Orcs… She really has a lot to make up for. And she will; by entering that mountain, dragon or not and retrieving that prized stone.

The pair wander around for a short while, knowing that the Elf is somewhere in the gardens (which he had mentioned to Gandalf in case he was in need of anything) but finding said gardens is another matter. They receive a few stares, mostly from civilians they pass but the guards carry on with little care.

"Everything is so…big," she murmurs, looking up slightly at the height of the doors. Edyth has been in a town of Men before but even then, it hadn't made her feel small. And technically she isn't small in the Shire. Perhaps on the shorter side of the Dwarves but she has never felt little around them. But the Elves are elongated and slim, the design of their architecture doing nothing to stop her feeling like an ant in a bird's world.

"And too bright," Bofur grimaces, shrivelling his nose at the light cream coloured walls.

They walk along a balcony, barely able to see over the railing but she sees him just through the poles. "There he is," she says, coming to a stop. Her eyes wander around, finding a way down. She traces a path to a series of stairs, marching towards them with Bofur on her trail.

Lindir is standing near a rose garden bed, in conversation with a guard. Edyth approaches slowly, not wanting to disrupt anything. Bofur doesn't seem to have the same hesitancy as herself, casually walking by her side. Lindir notices their approach and dismisses the guard.

"May I be of assistance, Miss…"

"Baggins," Edyth smiles. "Edyth Baggins. I was wondering if you could guide me in the way of your healing house?"

Lindir shifts his feet to face the pair, raising his eyebrow ever so slightly. "Are the Dwarves not competent in their treatment?" he questions, clearly playing on the stubborn refusal Thorin made on their behalf for Elvish medicine.

Bofur leans forward over her shoulder. "We're just running a bit low on supplies," he corrects carefully, heavily accented. "Edyth here was looking for an ointment to soothe her skin. If you would be so kind?"

"Of course," he smiles blankly. "Allow me to lead the way."

Lindir says no more while he walks through the halls of Rivendell's centre. They pass through more chambers and halls than Edyth has ever seen in her life. She and Bofur share a look, both wondering how on earth they are going to find their way back. After some time, Lindir opens a door, leading the short pair into the healing house. A few beds are set up, though all are empty – in fact, there is no one at all in the room. One wall is filled with phials and herbs in glass jars, the other is lined with shelves of linen, candles, and an assortment of tools.

Bofur strides past Lindir with a confident strut, directly to the wall with the medicine. Edyth pauses next to Lindir, opening her mouth to say something to her friend but decides not to. Bofur begins pulling things off the shelves, peering into their contents.

She cannot help but smile at how odd he looks. While everything is of light and soft colour, Bofur looks rugged and worn, wearing dark earthy tones and his skin stained with dirt and grime. Likely much like herself.

"Sorry," she says softly to the Elf. "He's just…Well, Bofur."

"Two Halflings travelling with Dwarves," he muses, ignoring her miserable attempt at an apology. "That is an odd group to see together."

"It is," she agrees, straining her neck to meet his eyes. "But they are good company, so long as you don't insult them."

"I have noted."

Edyth smiles to herself, hearing the humour and seeing the small smile on his lips. Bofur is still rifling through the medicine, holding up three bottles with a frown. "I can't read the labels!" he cries. "It's all mumbo-jumbo!"

Lindir sighs, sauntering forward and begins to look through the cabinet himself. Bofur stands back, giving him a scrutinising once over. He strolls back to her side. "Really? Him?" Edyth glares at him, smacking his side. "You'd be better off with Dwalin."

Edyth gives him a wide-eyed glare, overly aware of Elves' enhanced hearing. To his credit, Lindir simply ignores their conversation. Her ears turn bright red for the second time that day. He returns, a phial in hand with a clear liquid inside. "This should do you finely," he says, holding it out for her.

"Thank you. This will help a lot." Lindir nods in acknowledgement of her thanks. "Actually… do you have anything for pain relief as well?" she questions, shifting her weight around. "I hurt my ankle and I don't want to waste anything our healer has for something so small."

Lindir turns back around to the cabinet without a word. Within moments, he returns with another phial, this one thicker and tinted yellow. "It is strong," the Elf warns. "You will not need much."

"Thank you again," she says, taking the second phial. "We'll be out of your hair now."

Lindir bows his head. "It has been no trouble, Miss Baggins."

Edyth twirls the glass phials around, preparing to leave but asks one more question. "Will you be at the dinner tonight? That Lord Elrond is hosting."

"I will be," he confirms, holding his hands behind his back. "And I am right to assume you will be attending, assuming your injuries and lack of sleep will not prevent you from doing so?"

"Ye-" She breaks off. "How do you know that I haven't had any sleep?"

Lindir opens his mouth, closing it once as though to rethink his words. "Forgive me for the observation, but your eyes are rimmed with darkness, Miss Baggins." Edyth's cheeks glow, aware of her distressed state of being. Around the Dwarves, it was fine as everybody looked worse for wear but Lindir and the other Elves barely have a spot of dust on them. "Please do not take insult from my words. I am sure your tire from travelling and being chased by Orcs is not your usual appearance."

"No," she agrees quietly, sniffling.

Edyth and Bofur leave shortly after, attempting to make their way back to the camp. They refused (unsurprisingly) any rooms that Elrond offered, instead choosing to stay together for the duration of their stay. While she knows a part of it is for the distrust of the Elves, and also the kinship the Dwarves share, but she also has an inkling that Thorin wants to deny their help to maintain his low look upon the Elves. If he were to accept the offers, maybe he would feel indebted or something along those lines.

Eventually, Edyth has to ask for directions from a maid but they are directed the final part of the way but the unmistakably loud voices of the company. Bilbo is back, cleaner than he has been in a week and looking the most refreshed out of all of them.

"Smitten!" Bofur cries as they enter, causing Edyth to roll her eyes. "She's absolutely smitten!"

"Shut it Bof," she growls playfully. She tucks the soothing phial on top of her pack for later but keeps a hold of the pain relief. "The only one besotted is you and alcohol."

"Ain't that the truth," Gloin chortles, a few other Dwarves chuckling along with him. Bofur tips his head, not so reluctantly agreeing. Edyth smiles to herself but it drops as she rolls the phial around in her palm, glancing at one Dwarf in particular.

With no time like the present, she saunters forward to Thorin, breaking his silent line of thought. "Here," she says softly, holding the glass out. "It's pain relief. For your arm."

Thorin peers at the phial with narrowed eyes. "Is it from the Elves?" he questions slowly.

Edyth swallows, dropping her hand slightly. "Yes," she admits. "But if it makes it any better, they don't know I'm giving it to you. I know you hurt your arm and…" She shrugs, holding the phial closer once more. "I thought it might help."

Thorin stares at her for the longest minute of her life but slowly he reaches up and plucks it from her fingers. As usual, she receives no verbal thanks, only a slow nod. Taking it, she gives him a tight-lipped smile then returns to her pack.

Bilbo joins her on the floor as she unscrews her own phial. "Let me," he says, taking it from her hands. He already has a clean cloth at the ready, so she lets him do so, tipping the oil onto it then begins dabbing it on her cheek. "Nasty. But it looks worse than it probably is."

"That's what Oin said." Suddenly, Lindir's warning about the strength of the remedy echoes through her head. Her mouth opens, head snapping towards Thorin much to Bilbo's annoyance, but the words die in her throat as the Dwarf has just finished downing the entire thing. "Oops." She purses her lips, shaking her head to herself. "It should be fine."