Chapter 2 – Made You Look
Zed had never been good at handling either side of the silent treatment. She was well-versed in its effectiveness—her heart had shriveled during every bout inflicted by her insane grandfather (May he roast in hell with a pineapple crammed sideways up his butt for all eternity!)—but the girl had yet to master keeping her mouth shut even in normal circumstances, let alone stressful ones.
Her attempt at punishing the "dwarves" with silent disregard lasted about ten minutes.
"Just so you know," she complained, angrily snapping pieces off a stick and throwing them into the campfire (beside which she'd been insistently bundled), "I hate you all." She waved what was left of the stick at the Bombur, who had proven to be a quiet and jumpy sort, and intoned, "Engorio!" She waited a few seconds and then squinted at him, pronouncing, "I can't tell if it worked…"
He stared at her for a long moment before cautiously patting down his girth, whispering to his "brother," "What's she done to me? A curse? Is she a sorceress?"
"Yes!" Zed answered, giving her stick another menacing flourish and cackling when a few of the dwarves flinched away. "A powerful witch! Dark Lord Voldemort's top lieutenant and best torturer! Much better than that skank Bellatrix!" Adopting a posh British accent, she added, "Not to be trifled with, you muggle filth!"
"Don't tease 'im," the Bofur admonished, though he was also looking a little concerned and only mostly convinced that said teasing had not been truthful. "And best not let Oin hear any talk about witchcraft. He'll douse all of us in his smelliest countermeasures. Do you have any idea how hard it is to eat when everything reeks of sage?" He shivered. "I hate sage."
Zed giggled, snorted, guffawed. "Ooo," she chortled, "Nice foreshadowing!" After a moment of thought, she continued, "Back-shadowing? Is that a thing? Did you do the trolls yet?" Heedless of the bewildered stares from all the dwarves in her immediate vicinity—the Urs, Nori, and Dwalin (Dori had been pried off her by force and sent to smother, ahem, mother the pretty pretty princeling)—she peered at Thorin, Gandalf, and Bilbo each in turn and then observed, "No fancy elf swords, so I guess no trolls yet. Unless you guys are going off-script for your quest. I guess three huge mountain trolls would be kinda hard to cast convincingly. Or was it cave trolls? I probably shouldn't mix canons if I want to keep this current one straight."
"What's that about trolls, lass?" Dwalin demanded. He'd mostly been a silent and very menacing sentry, prone to long bouts of pierce-your-everlasting-soul staring, so the sudden interest was odd.
Still, she couldn't help chuckling, "Oh, no spoilers, right? Even though absolutely everybody knows the story. Ok, ok. I guess I won't ruin your fun. What kind of ungrateful captive would I be then, huh?" The furrow-browed look of annoyed confusion he gave her was very convincing, but she still interrupted him as he opened his mouth to ask (badger) for follow-ups. "Shhh," she whispered, holding a finger to her lips and then swishing her stick toward his face. "Obliviate!" she declared, beaming brightly. "There! All better!"
A vaguely uncomfortable silence settled among them. Finally, the Bofur broke it by insistently changing the subject. "So," he chirped, "How old are you, Miss Zed?"
Tossing out a flirtatious grin and wink and eyebrow wiggle, she replied with her usual deflection of that very inconvenient question: "How old do you want me to be?"
He reeled back as though she'd bitch-slapped him with a mackerel. Spluttering and turning a bit green around the metaphorical gills, the behatted hooligan choked out, "Whu- I- Never!" He threw a few frantic glances and words toward the Bifur, who looked distinctly murderous.
Pouting and forcing herself to tear up, Zed sniffled, "I know I'm not much to look at, but you could at least be a bit polite with the rejections. I still have feelings, you know."
The Bifur growled something in Klingon (or whatever), but when his eyes locked with hers, they softened.
"He wants to know who told you that you were anything less than the most beautiful lass in any world," the Bofur translated, fidgeting with his hat flaps, "So that he can track them down and punish them for their shameful lies."
Somehow, Zed got the impression that the statement was actually a bit more colorful before translation, but she was touched nonetheless. "Awww," she answered, doing her best not to blush at the rare and seemingly heartfelt compliment, "You're sweet. Deluded, but sweet."
The smile he graced her with was gentle and sad and sort of broken and accompanied by a teary sheen in his dark gray eyes.
She couldn't help returning a genuine grin, even while she fervently reminded herself that they were just very dedicated actors. Still, Zed announced, "Take notes, nerds! That is now you get yourself in the running for favorite dwarf!"
xxXxx
Eventually, they persuaded the girl to eat and drink. It was quite an ordeal of having others test her servings first before she would trust that they weren't drugged and letting her switch her bowl and waterskin with whomever she pleased, whenever she pleased… and then listening to her complain about "nerd cooties," which they gathered was some contagion.
Thorin tried not to be insulted. She was a terrified child who had been ripped away from everything she knew and was currently being held against her will by armed strangers. That she had chosen to resort to insults and obnoxiousness rather than tears was actually a blessing.
He didn't think that Dwalin would survive making the girl cry again, at least not without cracking and swearing himself to her service.
Thorin was not about to lose his shield brother to such nonsense.
"Gonna need my wash kit," Miss Zed announced, glancing around at them and arching a thick black eyebrow.
(Thorin at least was assuming (hoping) that her hair was dyed purple and that black was its natural color; that would certainly fit with Bifur as her father. The more the king looked, the more he thought he did see a resemblance, though he couldn't point to any specific shared features.)
"Which one is that?" Nori inquired. He was clearly quite intrigued and eager to gather more information about the strange instruments and implements that had been unloaded from her pack.
The girl pouted (adorably) and pointed out, "Tie-dyed zipper pouch. And a bowl of boiled water would be nice."
Bombur got right on providing the bowl of water, but Nori needed further explanation to identify the "tie-dyed zipper pouch." Balin and Dori and Ori and even the burglar were quite interested to finally have a name for the strange metal closure that they'd been admiring, and "tie-dyed" seemed to indicate "badly dyed with many bright colors."
When she had both requested items back in her possession, Miss Zed twirled around and stomped off toward the trees, utterly ignoring their growls to stop. Over her shoulder, she exclaimed, "It's too dark for me to get away from you freaks, and you still have all my gear! If you want to watch me wash for bed and take a final piss, feel free to come along, but I'm not gonna be accused of putting on a show!" With a huff, she continued her trek into the privacy of the nearby trees.
Wordlessly, Thorin, Nori, and Bifur followed. Bifur looked as though he wanted to protest the two extra additions to guard his daughter while she washed and relieved herself, but ultimately, he did not; she was his daughter, they were almost certain, although they had not yet heard the story of how she came to be or how he traveled to another realm to aid in her creation, but she was also technically the company's… well, prisoner was a rather ugly word for it, but Thorin couldn't be bothered to think of a nicer one.
After placing her bowl of water and her opened wash kit down on a convenient log, the girl ducked behind a tree, and they heard the unmistakable sound of a bladder being emptied into the dirt.
Thorin was long past embarrassment or discomfort about such bodily functions, but he dearly wished that his presence wasn't necessary.
By the time she came out from behind the tree, she had taken off her strange baggy tunic, which she proceeded to throw at Nori with a dismissive command of "Hang on to that for me, starfish."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Thorin started to scold, "Miss Zed-"
"It's my sleep shirt," she cut him off. "I won't be able to sleep in it if I get it wet." She proceeded to go through a routine that involved rubbing her hands with a substance that smelled like moonshine; using a bristled stick covered in a minty paste to scrub at her teeth; spitting out the resulting foam and rinsing her mouth, followed by more spitting; rubbing her hands and around her mouth with more of the moonshine substance; wetting, soaping, scrubbing, and rinsing her face and patting it dry with a small pink towel; taking her surprisingly long hair down from its mostly destroyed topknot, dragging a brush roughly through matted, frizzy remains of curls (making Bifur whimper in horror at the harsh ripping and snapping sounds that resulted from every yanked tangle), and twisting the whole purple mane back up into a swirl on the top of her head, using a stretchy circular tie to hold the style up; wetting a different small towel, a green one, and using it to wipe down the exposed skin of her arms and chest; and finally, using the remainder of the water to rinse out the towels.
She signaled the end of her tasks by snapping her fingers and making a vague grabbing motion at Nori, who looked stoically annoyed and threw the shirt back at her with a bit more force than necessary. The girl, thank Mahal, did not have to be convinced or cajoled to put said shirt back on. "Squeaky clean," she announced, wringing out the towels and shutting her kit and picking up said kit and the bowl, which she emptied with a careless motion. "Now who's gonna read me a bedtime story? I gots to have a bedtime story." Her beaming grin was wide and adorable and disturbingly childlike.
They really, really needed to determine her age.
Thorin sighed, "If you will consent to sit quietly and listen as we explain ourselves, I'm sure someone will consent to tell you a story afterward."
"Fiiine," she groaned, "But I want my sleeping bag back!"
"Sleeping bag?" Nori drawled, raising a braided eyebrow.
The girl huffed and stomped her foot, correcting, "Bed roll! Whatever! Am I gonna have to talk nerd to get anything done around here?"
Praying for patience, Thorin drawled, "Any efforts you make toward helping us understand you will be greatly appreciated."
Miss Zed smirked and adopted a somewhat mocking accent as she crisply replied, "Would said appreciation be of the sort that involves the return of my belongings?"
Thorin narrowed his eyes, considering the matter and quickly deciding that it was a small concession. "Within reason," he stated. "We only mean to limit your access to weapons, not rob you." He also couldn't have her leaving them, and holding her supplies hostage was a ruthless but fairly effective way of ensuring that the girl stayed and somewhat cooperated.
"I already promised not to attack anyone unless I was attacked first," she declared with a condescending sniff. "And even though Dori did attack me, I decided he gets a one-time pass for letting me cry on him before. So, yeah, we're right back to the mutual no-stabbing policy. Which is very generous, considering the circumstances." She blinked at him for a moment before muttering, seemingly to herself, "Actually, I might be developing a form of Stockholm syndrome. A whole new form that occurs when your kidnappers are cosplayers and you end up buying into their fantasy…" Then, she flailed her arms and theatrically wailed, "I'm gonna end up in a psych textbook!"
She was an odd child.
Bifur nudged Nori and growled, "Ask her if she needs a hug."
Although the star-haired dwarf's expression was one usually reserved for inconveniently placed piles of excrement, he gamely sighed, "Bifur wants to know if you need a hug."
The question seemed to startle her out of the brief moment of distress, and she spent an inordinately long time just staring at and closely scrutinizing her not-yet-revealed father. "Yeah, ok," she finally agreed, narrowing her eyes slightly, "But only 'cuz I'm mostly sure that wasn't a pickup line and 'cuz I like consensual hugs and 'cuz you're my favorite. And that wasn't a line, right? Just to be clear, I'm not interested in you sexually-"
Thorin found himself ready to fall to his knees and praise Mahal when Bifur interrupted his insane daughter's ramblings by wrapping her into a secure embrace. As touching as the moment was—a first hug between the newly united pair—the exiled king and his spymaster were left to awkwardly shuffle beside it, and neither was enjoying himself.
"Ask her if she still feels ill," Bifur insisted, looking rapturous at having his little girl tucked safely into his arms, her head fitting perfectly beneath his chin and (after only a brief hesitation) her own arms wrapping around him in return. "She seems feverish."
"He wants to know how you're feeling," Nori relayed, definitely irritated about playing translator. "He says you have a fever."
Miss Zed scoffed loudly but didn't make any move to peel herself away from her father. If anything, she seemed close to dozing off on his chest, perhaps taking a few seconds to relax from her hypervigilant state, which apparently took the form of crass humor and unrelenting insults and bizarre outbursts. "Better than this morning," she murmured, scrunching her broad, freckled nose. "At least I think it was this morning. How long since you kidnapped me?"
"We did not kidnap you," Thorin insisted, for what felt like the hundredth time.
"That's exactly what a kidnapper would say," the girl argued.
"Lass has a point," Nori muttered, doing the courtesy of switching languages for his disrespectful wheedling.
"Tell her that I won't let anyone hurt her," Bifur demanded. "And ask if Zed is her full name." At the looks of confusion from the other dwarrow, he explained, "Two to three names are common in her mother's world. A personal name and a family name, and sometimes a name between them, often to honor a family member but not always. That's what I remember. I… need to know." He looked uncertain, a little pained, likely still struggling to comprehend that he even had a daughter, let alone where she'd come from.
"He says that he won't let anyone hurt you," Thorin declared when Nori took too long pondering the new information. "And he'd like to know your full name."
"Please tell me this isn't an elaborate identity-theft scam," the girl grumbled—again, mostly to herself. Still, she eventually sighed, "Zedekiah Iris Moonstone."
"Moonstone," Bifur repeated, stunned and near crazed as his grip tightened. "It must be her… Tell her it's a beautiful name."
Nori decided to involve himself again, reporting, "He says your name is beautiful."
She snorted and leaned back far enough to give Bifur a skeptical look. "Right," said the girl, "Most people just wanna know what gender-confused religious hippie cult raised me and whether or not they drank the Kool-Aid. But thanks. Still very sweet of you."
As was becoming usual for most of her statements, the dwarrow didn't understand some of the words, but Thorin understood enough to inquire, "Gender-confused? It's a lad's name?"
"Zedekiah is, yeah," she yawned, returning her head to its spot on her father's chest, nestled into his beard. "It was just gonna be Iris Moonstone and whatever the hell dear old Dad's surname was. But then Dad never showed up. And Grandfather didn't believe that Mom had married someone whose last name she didn't even know, and he wasn't about to let a bastard have his last name, and he got his hands on the birth certificate first and had some stupid idea about being sick of raising girls, so… obscure male biblical name it was. But I still got off a lot easier than-"
She cut herself off, jolting out of the rambling explanation and, less abruptly, out of Bifur's arms. "Anyway," the girl insisted, very firmly closing the subject and blushing a bit as she kept her pale eyes on the ground, "Places to go, stories to hear. Chop, chop, nerds. Hurry it up." Without waiting for the rest of them, she stomped quickly back to camp.
Thorin found himself rushing to follow, hoping that Dwalin wouldn't assume the worst and do something rash if she arrived without the rest of them.
xxXxx
Zed had to hand it to the nerds: they'd come up with a colorful plotline. Stray lightning bolts that might be tears in reality to link the worlds and deliver forth stray children of travelers between the worlds… It was all very meta. But other than the fact that she still had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there, the strange little herd of larpers seemed fairly harmless, even if they'd possibly abducted her to play the role of Bifur's long-lost daughter.
Oh yeah, they'd made Bifur her dad, which was kind of cool. He was a pretty bad-ass dwarf—Exhibit A: skull axe. He was also a really great actor. He looked so… unspeakably moved and happy when she accepted his paternal role with a shrug and a casual, "Could be worse."
"He wants to know if he can braid your hair," Bofur translated, offering a cheerful grin of his own at his new "cousin." "It's to show that you're his daughter," said the miner, "And accepted and loved. And of course me and Bombur could add braids as well, if you'll let us."
Yawning, Zed agreed, "Sure, but let's prob do that tomorrow. They'll just get messed up if I sleep on 'em." If she was buying into the cosplay nonsense and getting honest to goodness dwarf braids, she was sure as hell going to enjoy them in their pristine condition for as long as possible… maybe after a bath. She'd been in the woods for at least a week and violently ill for like three days. A long soak and a change of clothes were definitely in order, and she'd heard a nearby water source conveniently mentioned.
Although he seemed momentarily disheartened by the delay, Bifur rallied quickly and beamed at her and squeezed her tighter against his side. He murmured something in low Khuzdul, which Bofur translated as "He says that will give him plenty of time to carve you some beads of your own. He wants to give you a few of his as well and forge you better ones once he has the tools and materials, but you should still have your own beads."
"Neato," Zed hummed. She was quite exhausted but refused to be the first person to fall asleep; there had to be a kidnapping equivalent of slumber party rules, but she had no desire to find out what they were. As it was, the stares of most of the company were still focused on her and making her itch too much for remaining awake to be any struggle. Instead, she added, "So… how long before we get to 'Erebor?'" With finger quotes and everything. "I guess I'm game, but I only planned to be gone two weeks. Not that I really have to be back, but the Strawberry Festival is coming up, and there were a couple concerts I wanted to see, and I got a little internet business and some side gigs going. Can't really leave those for too long."
From all around, she received looks of shock and pity, like they actually believed the "wizard's" pronouncement that she could never go home. Psh. Right.
"Guys," she sighed, "I'm not mad anymore. Even though you might be kidnappers, you don't seem to be rapists or serial killers, so bygones are bygones. I'll play along. Just give me a time frame so that I know how much shit I'm gonna be in when I get back to civilization. I mean, the library fines alone-"
"How did you know our destination?" Thorin demanded, glaring hardcore—but that seemed to be his default expression (a bad case of "resting murder-face," basically), so she couldn't tell whether or not he was actually pissed.
Letting out muffled groan, the girl complained, "Where the hell else would you be going? Dude, c'mon! I'm trying to compromise here! Stockholm syndrome's only gonna get you so far!"
Before the king could answer, probably with something haughty and aloof and dripping with offended pride, Balin announced, "The journey to Erebor will take many months, lass. But the profits of our success will more than make up for any loss of work." There was a distinct but unspoken addition of And if we don't succeed, we'll all be too dead to care. (He really was a cheery fellow.) "Speaking of which," said the white-haired elder as he dug through his nearby pack, "I should write you a contract-"
It was Bifur's turn to interrupt, which he did with an explosive exclamation of Khuzdul. His arms tightened around her almost to the point of pain, but the gesture was definitely meant as protective rather than harmful.
Whispering in her ear, Bofur explained, "He says that you won't be signing any contracts until we know you're of age." After a friendly but slightly scolding grin, the miner observed, "You never did tell us how old you are. And don't be tryin' to flirt with me again to get outta sayin'. We're cousins, after all."
"Yeah," Zed quietly and solemnly agreed, "Best leave the incest to the blue bloods."
Bofur once again drew everyone else's attention by laughing loudly at an inappropriate moment (discussion of Zed's percentage and safety concessions, they would later discover). He turned red from the effort of controlling his mirth, even more so when the girl added sotto voce, "What's the bet that Thorin is the twins' real father? His sister looks just like him, right? I bet he's totally into that."
Eyes frantic and breath choked, Bofur quickly shushed her and squeaked out, "Eh, sorry, sorry! Nothin' ta worry over! Just tryin'a find out our blessed miracle's age! Great sense of humor she has!"
The rest of the company's reactions ranged from confused to irritated, but no one else seemed to have heard Zed's comments.
Bofur slumped in relief, softly scolding (through a few remaining chuckles), "Easy on the slander, mizimith. There's a lot of free beer between me and my untimely death by dragon. Don't want to end up executed for treason before I've had my fill."
"There's free beer?" Zed demanded, perking up and looking around for signs of a cooler or a keg. "I want free beer! Dude, if I'm getting free beer for a few months, I'm definitely in!"
Again, the comment interrupted the serious talk (assurances of appropriate chaperones and privacy befitting a young female). The company looked at her like she was nuts, but she responded with, "Jeez, if you'd opened with that, we could've saved ourselves a ton of time and trouble."
It was morning before anyone realized that they still didn't know how old she was.
xxXxx
Zed woke to the sounds of a fight and sat up to find Bifur (big-ass spear) battling Thorin (non-elf sword and titular shield of ye olde oaken) and Dwalin (two fuck-off axes), who both seemed to be protecting Fili (two shiny swords that he wasn't currently coordinated enough to coordinate), who was being held back by Kili (armed only with his good looks and questionable wits). Balin and Bofur were off to the side and trying to defuse the situation, but because everyone seemed to be shouting in rapid Khuzdul, she had no idea what had set them off. She frowned at the spectacle but decided that worrying about such nonsense could wait until she was really awake. (They were probably just squabbling over who had the prettiest hair or the pointiest weapon.) Then, she scooped up her wash kit and a change of clothes (they'd given back most of her gear, thankfully, though nothing she could use to defend herself from them or anyone or anything else) and wandered away to tinkle and attend various other necessities.
Shortly after pulling up her leggings, she was startled nearly into her piss puddle by (what she soon discovered to be) the sound of thirteen dwarves and a wizard crashing through the trees. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" the girl screeched, snatching the nearest blunt object (a scraggly pine branch) and nearly braining poor Ori with it. (Hey, just call me Pinenbludgeon!) Once she determined that her attackers were the same group of annoying but thus-far innocuous possible kidnappers with whom she'd already reached a tentative truce, Zed javelined the stick at Nori (because he probably deserved it) and bellowed, "YOU ARE ALL IDIOTS, AND THIS IS EXACTLY HOW YOU ALMOST GET EATEN BY TROLLS!"
They froze (except Nori, who had caught the branch and was looking like he was debating returning fire).
Gandalf began to drawl, "My dear girl-"
"GO SIT ON YOUR STAFF, FOOL OF A WIZARD!" Zed shouted, not in any mood to tolerate a single ounce of his wise and magnanimous Dumbledore schtick. Once again addressing the entire crowd while the tallest of them was still shocked into blustering and insulted incoherence, she icily added, "I don't care what rock you crawled out from under or what astral heavenly plane you got booted off of. Bathroom time. Is. Private Time. Now, turn your hairy little asses right the fuck around, march said hairy little asses right back to camp, and wait there until I feel mentally prepared to deal with more of your stupidity."
Unsurprisingly, the younger lads and the married dwarves (and Oin, who (she would later discover) spent a lot of time treating the remnants of the stupid souls who pissed off dwarrowdams) obeyed very quickly, backing away like one might from a hungry puma that hadn't yet decided whether it was in the mood to maul a tasty morsel.
Instead of taking the very generous out he'd been given, Thorin puffed up and pompously decreed, "You should not be wandering on your own-"
"I DON'T NEED ANYONE'S PERMISSION OR SUPERVISION TO TAKE A PISS!" she shrieked in a full rage, loud enough to cause a panicked exodus of birds from all the nearby trees. "THANK YOUR FUCKING MAKER THAT THOSE GREASY RAT TAILS YOU CALL BRAIDS AREN'T LONG ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND YOUR THICK NECK OR STRONG ENOUGH TO WITHSTAND THE LEAST OF THE FORCE I'D NEED, OR I WOULD'VE STRANGLED YOU WITH 'EM BY NOW!"
Her outburst was met with dropped jaws and wide eyes and rapidly purpling faces. Bofur looked worried but also like he was trying desperately not to laugh and just about suffocating with the effort.
There was a bit of a standoff, and Zed thought that maybe, just maybe, the "king" recognized his company's mistake in barging in on her pee break. However, his pride clearly prevented him from acknowledging the gaff or graciously retreating—especially after she insulted and threatened both him and his manhood… Er, dwarfhood? Is there a race-specific equivalent for manhood? Hmm, not really… Masculinity! That's general enough to work…
Anyway.
She disregarded him with a condescending huff, turning her attention toward her "father" and remaining "cousin" (Bombur had fled with the others) and demanding, "You said there was a stream nearby, right? After being sick and sweaty for days, I'm sure I can't smell all that great, and I need to wash my hair if people are gonna be playing with it."
Bifur grumbled something that sounded appropriately agreeable and maybe even remorseful but also just slightly scolding; Bofur dutifully parroted, "He says that he will take you there and stand guard to make sure you aren't disturbed again. He's also sorry for intruding on you, but he was very frightened when he didn't know where you'd gone. He'd ask that you please let someone know next time."
The whole thing (both versions) was said with such heartfelt concern that Zed couldn't help answering, "Alright. Sure. Buddy system it is." She smirked. "Unless you're all distracted with waving pointy sticks at each other and arguing about who's prettiest."
Letting out a gruff bark of a laugh, Bifur gallantly offered his arm, which she accepted, and then the axe-in-the-forehead "dwarf" picked up her wash kit and clean clothes and escorted her past the still irate but blessedly silent "king."
They were out of earshot of the rest of the cosplayers when Zed realized another issue.
Bifur babbled something at her, but no one was there to helpfully chime in with a translation.
"Still committed to not breaking character, huh?" Zed observed. "That's gonna make communication a bit difficult. But I guess you can understand me, just not the other way around."
He nodded, seeming thoughtful for a few moments before signing something with the hand attached to the arm to which she was currently attached.
After blinking at him for a long moment, she reported, "Even if that was ASL, I don't know ASL. Well, I think I remember yes, no, thank you, and I love you-" each of which she demonstrated, the last of which Bifur seemed particularly pleased with "-And of course the middle finger-" also gleefully brandished "-is quite versatile in all contexts, but I'm not sure that's part of the official lexicon."
"Iglishmek," Bifur told her, pronouncing slowly and carefully and pairing the word with another sign that he held for a solid five seconds.
With her free hand, she copied the gesture. "Oh," said Zed, "That's the dwarf sign language, right? You know that, too? Wow. Impressive level of commitment, Papa dearest."
He grinned at her like a loon, once again holding up a specific sign and offering the accompanying word. "Adad," he murmured.
Zed copied both the gesture and the word. "Adad. I know that one. Father, right? Ok, this won't be too hard. I mean, fanfic certainly didn't make me conversational, but I guess I remember some, and I pick up languages pretty fast. Except Mandarin. Fuck Mandarin. I'd rather stick my tongue in a light socket than sprain it again on that absurdity."
Once more, the unmistakable pride and affection in his dark-gray gaze were impossible to miss, and Zed had a hard time remembering that he was acting. But, hey, maybe the actor himself liked her. Maybe that was why he'd volunteered for baby-daddy duty.
"I think we should start with swear words," the girl insisted, smirking when her new "father" arched an entirely unimpressed and majestically bushy eyebrow. "Hear me out! Can you imagine the look on Princess Oakenshield's face if I bust out some Khuzdul the next time he pisses me off? Priceless!"
xxXxx
Fili knew that he was hopelessly besotted when his reaction to Miss Zed's tirade (after he'd instinctively gotten himself and his brother well clear of it, of course) was a breathless sigh of "She's magnificent."
"She's terrifying!" Kili cried, staring at him as though he'd grown points on his ears. "Like Amad when she's about to pull her war hammer on someone, but somehow louder!"
Although he heard his brother's concerns, Fili found himself murmuring, "Her voice was amazing, wasn't it? Do you think she sings? It's usually only the best singers who can project like that…"
Kili opened his mouth, likely to emit another appalled exclamation of terror, but Gloin's hand fell onto the dark-haired archer's shoulder. "Don't bother, laddie," their cousin declared with a boisterous laugh. "I know that look. I saw it every day in the mirror for months after I first met my Magila. HA! And sometimes still to this day!"
Groaning, the younger prince complained, "Not that I'm not happy for you, but… adding another terrifying female to our family is…"
"Inevitable," Fili sighed. After a few moments of blissful imagining, he added, "Or at least I hope it is…" His eyes widened as dread squeezed his heart. "I tripped her!" he remembered with horror (although except for the knee to the gut, having her on top of him had not been unpleasant). "Did I hurt her?! Does she hate me?! Mahal, what do I-"
Suddenly, his head was facing sideways, and his cheek was stinging with pain.
"Not in the head!" Oin shouted. "He barely escaped addling, and you can't hit him in the head for at least the next month!"
Fili growled at his brother, who'd apparently delivered the slap—a slap! Like the heir to the kingdom of Erebor was some hysterical elf-maid falling to pieces over a hangnail!
Returning a stubborn glare, Kili scolded, "You made me promise to do that."
After a brief moment of thought, Fili groaned as he remembered that, yes, when they were quite a lot younger, after they'd witnessed the two-year spectacle of a particularly pathetic guardsman making an absolute ass out of himself trying to catch the eye of a pretty guardswoman (who preferred females and had ultimately thrown the pushy idiot face-first through a wall), Fili and his brother had sworn a pact that they would not let each other act like lovesick fools toward or about any potential partners, Ones or otherwise.
So, although his cheek still stung, Fili offered a solemn nod. He cleared his throat and, much more calmly, inquired, "Miss Zed was uninjured when I tripped her?"
The possibility that she hadn't been made him feel sick (although his concussion and lightly burned face and being slapped in the location of both may have contributed just a bit to the sensation).
"She was fine, lad," Bofur reported as he and the others returned to camp. Grinning, the Broadbeam added, "Though suddenly far less concerned about savin' you from us. Imagine that."
Confused (and annoyed that he'd missed so much of the initial interactions while he was unconscious), Fili repeated, "Saving me?"
"She was convinced we were responsible for your rather sorry state," the miner chuckled, plopping himself down near the small morning fire and poking the embers beneath the porridge pot. "There were threats and bargains to get you what she deemed proper care, not that we really figured out what that was." Smile turning just slightly unfriendly, he added, "Don't think you'll be courtin' her anytime soon. If she's a day over seventy, I'll eat my hat, and anyways, Bifur's gonna want her to himself for a while."
Fili's spirits plummeted. Miss Zed did seem quite young, probably younger than Kili, who, at seventy-two, was barely considered somewhat of age. Dwarven milestones were every seven years, and seventy to seventy-seven was kind of a gray area maturity-wise. You definitely weren't a child anymore, but you also weren't considered fully an adult unless you proved capable of taking care of yourself—and in the case of courting, taking care of someone else as well. Either way, clan heads had a lot more authority to reject or stall courtship requests for kin who hadn't reached seventy-seven. Asking to court someone who hadn't reached seventy was… forbidden, actually. Quite literally attempting to seduce a child. It was like proclaiming, I am a shameless and irredeemable pervert without the slightest hint of self-control. Please execute me.
If Miss Zed was at least seventy, Fili could grovel for Bifur's approval to pursue her…
If she wasn't at least seventy… well, Fili would wait, obviously, but he certainly wouldn't be happy about not being allowed to openly show his affections and then having to still grovel for Bifur's approval or wait even longer…
And there would of course be the matter of whether or not Miss Zed was even interested in courting and courting Fili in particular...
She was just so lovely and lively and perfect, and he wanted to drape her in gems and hold her in his arms-
"Fee!"
The golden-haired prince jerked out of his fantasy and glanced over to his brother, who was looking quite distinctly exasperated.
"There are a lot of places I can hit you that aren't your head," Kili warned.
Fili narrowed her eyes. "There are a lot of trees into which I can toss your bow."
"Orc spawn!"
"Weed eater!"
"Boys!" Thorin snapped, kneading his temples and breathing deeply like a bellows. "Cease this bickering!" After another few moments to bank his anger, he added, "Fili, are you well enough to travel?"
The prince nodded. Although he was sore from head to toe, definite emphasis on the head (though his spine region was no delight), and the sunlight was making his eyes sting and his skull throb and his stomach roil, he didn't see why being miserable in a camp would be any better than being miserable on a pony. And at least the latter option would move them closer to their ultimate destination.
Oin reluctantly concurred that, technically, Fili was unlikely to suffer anything more serious than discomfort as they moved. The wizard's efforts had apparently given the lad months of a lead in terms of healing.
The impressively long line of stitches on the back of his head and the blood matted into his hair and the skin regrowing on his face itched like mad.
"Small mercies," Uncle growled. Louder, in Westron, he instructed the group, "Begin breaking camp. We will leave as soon as Bifur and the girl return."
The company dutifully obeyed and very soon had everything packed and secured onto the ponies. Bofur and Bombur had taken it upon themselves to handle their cousins' belongings, shooing Ori away when he tried to get another look at the "absolutely fascinating" books among Miss Zed's possessions, not to mention the clever sleeping mat that somehow filled itself with air upon being unfurled and had to have the air squeezed out of it as it was rolled up.
Then, they waited. For quite some time. Just when Uncle was starting to go from annoyed to mortally offended by the delay, Bifur and Miss Zed reappeared.
Fili cringed.
Of course. Of course Bifur had chosen braids that marked his daughter as far too young for courting—like, absurdly, unrealistically young; Mahal, no dwarf would tolerate wearing those braids beyond his or her twenties (except Gimli, who'd worn them well into his thirties because he couldn't say no to his amad). They were widely known as baby braids.
She was still achingly pretty, maybe even more so with her hair in a more typically dwarvish style (despite the lurid color and unfortunate design), and a scrub and a change of clothes (a less-revealing tunic (which covered the tattoos on her arm and the scar on her chest) and a pair of thick blue trousers) had clearly improved her mood. Miss Zed practically swanned into the clearing and declared, "Ok, guys. You're forgiven. But seriously. If my pants are down, your nosy selves better be elsewhere. Capisce? They're called healthy boundaries for a reason, and that reason is that they keep people from getting bludgeoned." Without waiting for an answer, she bounced over to Bofur and exclaimed, "I'm taking your Bifur home with me to be my personal hairstylist. His talents are wasted on larping."
Laughing, holding out his arms in invitation and closing them around her when she flitted into them, the miner agreed, "Any of your family will be happy to care for your hair whenever you like. Just ask, lass."
Fili was not jealous.
Bombur was only a few steps away, and when the girl was released, he hesitantly held out his arms as well.
Miss Zed hugged him, too.
Fili was not jealous.
"I'm sorry I made fun of you and tried to cast a spell on you," she murmured. "That wasn't cool. Even if you are a kidnapping nerd. Your stew was really good, by the way. You can come home with me, too, and be my personal chef. And the Bofur can come and tell raunchy jokes and get drunk with me, 'cuz I'm starting to suspect there's not actually any beer, which is totally weak. Anytime you dudes wanna ditch and head to my place for Wi-Fi and Netflix and indoor plumbing and pizza and booze, let me know. Or just pick me up and start running and tell me on the way. You're totally the fastest, am I right?"
Bombur chuckled fondly and patted her on the back.
"MOVE OUT!" Thorin bellowed, already stomping toward his pony and not bothering to wait to see if he was obeyed.
"PONIES!" Miss Zed squealed, carefully approaching the nearest mount, which happened to be Fili's, and lavishing it with affection. "Aw, what's your name, sweetie?" she cooed, definitely addressing the beast as she scratched and nuzzled its nose. "Where were the nerds hiding you all night?"
Fili was not jealous.
Clearing his throat as he took a step toward her (fully aware that he was being closely observed by most of the company), Fili placed a hand on the animal's mane and murmured, "His name is Schist."
(Actually, after it had dared to unload its bowels on his boots almost immediately upon its purchase, Fili had dubbed the mangy beast Shit. However, in order to not anger or be seen as juvenile by Thorin, the blond prince used the much tamer moniker when anyone but his brother was around to hear (and snickered meanly with him when they were alone). Something inside Fili's soul shriveled at the very thought of explaining to his future wife and queen that his pony's name was Shit because it'd shat on his feet.)
Miss Zed barely turned to arch a dark eyebrow at him and look at him as though he was about as intelligent as pond scum. "This is a girl pony," she deadpanned.
Already feeling like a massive fool and so far out of his element that he might as well have been prancing through the treetops or trying to breathe underwater, Fili reflexively glanced beneath to check that he hadn't actually mistaken the animal's sex.
He hadn't.
A bright cackle burst from the beautiful dam at his side. "Ha ha! Made you look at a pony dong!" she taunted before giving Schist a big kiss on the nose (Fili was not jealous) (and his pony was definitely not named Shit while his beloved was kissing it) and skipping away to join her father on his mount.
Bifur gave her hand up and made sure that she was settled comfortably in front of him. The whole time he did so, he grinned viciously at Fili.
xxXxx
She was still slightly feverish and must have been exhausted, regardless of her cheerful attitude, because the gently swaying of the ambling pony put her to sleep in less than half an hour.
Bifur held his slumbering daughter in his arms and didn't know whether he was feeling joy or sorrow. Both, maybe.
He had a daughter. He'd even had a wife, somewhere, despite all the years he'd spent convincing himself that he did not so that he would not go insane with the grief of being unable to find her or to even know for certain that she was real.
However, based on Gandalf's brief explanation of the phenomenon that brought his little Moonstone home to him, her presence meant that Bifur's wife was likely dead.
Joy. Sorrow. The former tainted by the latter. The latter infinitely more bearable due to the former.
His cousins rode with him, one on either side, and they watched him carefully for signs of the madness that had consumed him shortly after he woke from the orc attack with an axe embedded in his skull and his wife's name on his lips but how to return to her or even prove her existence absent from his mind.
It hadn't taken the healers long to decide that his wife—who had a long strange name, who no one but him had ever seen, who he could not remember how to contact or return to—was a fever dream that he needed to be talked out of believing, lest his delusion render him entirely mad.
His cousins had done said talking. It had not been a fast or pleasant process, but they'd succeeded, in the end…
He didn't blame them, but…
The axe had also taken a chunk of his hair; it was just horrible luck that his marriage braid must have been part of the loss. That was mostly how Bofur had convinced him. "There's no way you wouldn't have proudly worn a marriage braid if you were really married, Cousin," the miner had argued sadly, "So just remember your pleasant dream fondly as you get on with life."
"I'm sorry," Bofur murmured, his usual cheerful grin absent and guilt oozing from every bedraggled and downtrodden inch of him.
"Do not be," Bifur sighed. "You did what you thought was best, what the healers thought was best. And even if I had not been convinced, I still… I still don't remember… I remember her smile and her smell and her voice. But I don't remember how I traveled to her or how I traveled back. I could not have returned to her, and that would have been… worse, I think. Perhaps." His arms tightened around his daughter (who was far too small and thin, but maybe she took after her mother in more than just the luminous pale color of her eyes), and he felt a smile stretch his weathered face… which quickly fell. "Regardless, she's gone now. You heard the wizard. Zed would not be here with us unless she lost the anchor of her mother in that other world."
When they stopped, Bifur would put marriage and mourning braids in his hair. It was the least he could do for his departed wife. He would also put a braid for his daughter. He would wear a braid to show the world that he had a little girl to nurture and love and protect and be proud of.
He was a widower now. But also a father. It was far more than he had been just the day before.
"Her name was Violet," Bifur murmured, sad but wistful, praying that her life had been good without him, but he was far too afraid to ask the one person who likely knew for sure. "Violet Miriam Butcher."
"A noble craft," Bombur commented, giving an approving nod.
Bifur shook his head. "She was not actually a butcher," he explained. "I thought so at first as well, but naming was different in that world. She said that perhaps one of her ancestors had been a butcher, but the name had been taken as a family name and passed down from there, regardless of profession. She worked on her father's farm. He was a cruel man, and he denied Violet and her sister education and training in anything else. I… I promised to take her away from that life…"
He was getting sad again. And depressing his cousins as well. After everything he'd already put them through, he hated making them feel worse. So, he charged forward, reporting, "It's an insult that Violet's father didn't allow Zed to have the name. I think he must've been labeling her as unwanted, not part of his family… If he believed her to be born outside marriage… But Moonstone is a far better family name for her. Violet chose well." Maybe Bifur would take the name for himself, too, if his daughter didn't object. He'd be proud to be Bifur Moonstone. Most of his kin would think it a deed name and be confused at its origins, but he didn't much care. It would let him feel closer to his wife and his little girl, and that was all that mattered.
Zed shifted in his arms and, clearly still asleep, grumbled, "Lem. Lemmy." Within moments, the grumbling became whining, which was joined by squirming. She called out "Lem" a few more times before jerking awake. She spent a few moments panting and blinking blearily at her surroundings before finally rubbing a hand across her smooth chin and reporting, "Didn' drool on myself. Huzzah."
"Feelin' alright?" Bofur asked, coming close enough to reach across and rest a hand on her forehead. "Better than before, but maybe Oin should take another look at you."
She gave a huge yawn and twisted her head one way and then the other, loudly popping her neck with each rotation and then stretching her shoulders and spine a bit until several more pops sounded. Then, she started in on her knuckles and did those one by one.
Bifur cringed with every noise, which he could feel throughout his own body. His own hands desperately wanted to reach out and stop her, but he also didn't want to grab her suddenly and scare her more than she already had been. "Tell her not to do that," he begged. "It's bad for the joints."
After Bofur faithfully relayed the message, Zed just slumped again and snuggled back into Bifur's chest. "Nah," she said. "Old wives' tale. And it's this or a yoga break. Gotta stay limber." She closed her eyes and muttered, "Wake me when something interesting happens. Definitely if there's beer." And just like that, she was asleep again, an occasional soft snore making her all the more adorable.
Bifur's daughter trusted him enough to let him hold her while she slept. That alone allowed joy to defeat sorrow, at least for the moment.
xxXxx
For the next several days, she was asleep more than she was awake, dozing in the saddle or passed out at the fireside. When she was awake, she was vibrant and friendly and funny but definitely still odd and at times rude and impossible to understand and visibly frustrated with the company and wary of their intentions, but there were no major incidents.
Except, perhaps, for the fact that she continued to deflect the subject of her age, usually in increasingly outlandish and distracting ways.
However, pressing her on the topic was difficult when she slept so much and seemed to be exhausted by even short bouts of activity.
They thought she still had a fever but weren't sure if that was her normal temperature; Oin didn't know much about half-breeds except that they occasional defied the accepted norms of both their races.
Thankfully, the wizard insisted that Miss Zed was fine… or would be, rather. "Do you imagine that being torn from your world and acclimating to an entirely new one is easy on the body?" he drawled, puffing languidly on his pipe. "She will recover, and then we will see about convincing her that… Well, I'm not entirely certain what she believes, but she treats us like simpletons and speaks of playing along with us and what she will do when she returns home. I doubt she has fully grasped the truth of her situation."
Everyone agreed, some grudgingly, and resolved to continue to care for the girl while she regained her strength and after as well. They were hopeful and confident that she would thrive in her new world and with her new people and new family.
Then, it began to rain.
xxxxxxxxxx
Thanks for the great responses on the last chapter. I'm glad people are enjoying this :)
There are more surprises to come, and if you already have some guesses about them, you're welcome to tell me so in a review or PM. I'll let you know if you guess right and taunt you if you guess wrong, mwahaha.