Chapter 5:

Nala smelt much better than she had the night before. To her utter delight, her brother had actually allowed her to bathe before the sun hid behind the horizon which meant that she didn't have to worry about a strong odour coming from her as she met with Wikor that very next morning. Her father had been a little adamant at first, not liking the idea of neither himself nor her brother coming along so instead they resolved it by allowing them to meet Wikor first.

The light-brown haired Dwarf had been more than happy to oblige, and Nala felt her mind soar in his presence. He always held a charming smile, accompanied by quick wit that even made her brother laugh quietly. He was only a decade older than herself – and she was sitting at the slightly underripe age of twenty-five – but had more tales than even Balin himself could tell. At first, Nala was sure he had to be tattling his tales, but he spoke in such depth and memory that she had no choice but to believe him.

"My father used to be an escort you see," he explained as he guided her down the bustling street of Corna. "My mother died in childbirth and he didn't know any other trade. Grew up on the road, saw more of Middle Earth than most Dwarves do in their entire lifetime."

"And I thought I had seen lots," she chuckled with pulled back cheeks. Her eyes darted from person to person, occasionally back over to Wikor who always held her gaze for a few seconds.

"And you have. But there is always more to see," he retorted.

Nobody had batted an eyelid at the Dwarf pair, which was an unusual experience considering they were in a town populated by mostly the race of Men, but Wikor did not seem at all disturbed by their lack of care. She shrugged the thoughts off. "And he's not now?" Nala questioned, remembering the older man at the stall. "Your father - he was running the potato stall."

"Ah, that would be Mister Borgs," Wikor said through a small smile. "He took me in after my father was killed in an Orc raid." Nala's mouth dropped open, feeling the guilt pile up in her stomach. Wikor shook his head, placing the broad smile back on his cheeks. "Don't worry yourself. Can I ask you something though?"

"Ask away."

"That sigil, on your bead –" he pointed to the said bead which sat neatly on the end of her braid resting on her shoulder. "I don't recognise it. Is that your family's?"

Nala's mouth rounded as she filled with the bead. "Oh, no…You don't recognise it?"

Wikor shook his head, frowning slightly. "Should I?"

Nala thought for a moment. He would without a doubt recognise the name Durin – there isn't a Dwarf alive who wouldn't. But if she told him that, it would associate her with the name and therefore it's standing. Would Wikor see her as other's did back in Ered Luin – a low born that has connections to a once-powerful noble line? Five years later, the connection seemed a little far-fetched, but she shook her head. "Sorry, not really. It's my family's."

"You're noble then?"

Of course, only high-born families with any sort of importance to their name would have a sigil. "Not exactly," Nala answered slowly, fiddling with the bead. "We were a part of the court in the Blue Mountains. It was more of an honorary standing."

"And you left all that behind for a life of travelling," he hummed, swaying his arms slightly as the kept walking forward. "I must say, I'm finding you more extraordinary by the minute."

Nala laughed through a deep breath. "You barely know me," she protested, fighting the blush rising to her cheeks.

"Then you have a lot more time to became even more extraordinary than you already are." He sent her a teasing wink before holding out his arm in offering. "Come on, I have to show you this bakery. Miss Jilly makes the most drool-worthy pastries!"

Nala was more than willing to let him lead the way, their boots kicking up the dry dust of the road in trail. Wikor was the utmost truthful in his use of words to describe Jilly's pastries and Nala blushed at the moan she emitted after her first bite. She covered her mouth, the apples of her cheeks poking over the top of her fingers. Wikor only chuckled, emitting his own playful groan with each bite.

After returning to the store to acquire more small goods, the pair find their way to the outskirts of the town, just beyond into a small paddock area that had a loose abundance of forestry. Nala and Wikor sat on the ground, leaning back against the palms of their hands. Nala smiled at a small brown-bird that fluttered around in front of them for a while. It even sung for them, returned by others of its kind that the Dwarves could not see.

"Do you not travel anymore?" she questioned, plopping a raspberry tart in her mouth.

"No," Wikor sighed, though it was more out of relaxed content that mourning his past life. "Borgs needs my help here. I don't have any other family to travel to and I don't mind it here."

"But you miss it," she interpreted softly. Wikor nodded, smiling at the ground. "I can tell why. I mean, I loved my life back in Ered Luin – expect for this one Dwarf who always caused me issues – but travelling… it's liberating."

Wikor nodded in agreement, perking an eyebrow. "Someone didn't like you? Can't imagine why. I think you're one of my favourite people that I ever met."

Nala rolled her eyes, sucking her lips as another blush rose to her cheeks. "Stop," she laughed. "You've only known me for a week. Besides, I annoyed him just as much as he annoyed me."

"Sounds like you miss messing with him," Wikor smirked. He tosses a small nut in the air, catching it with an open mouth. Nala snorted through her own smirk.

"It does put a bit of greyness back in my life," she hummed but eventually shook her head. "No, it wasn't a good relationship at all. His brother was my friend, and I knew it was hurting Fili when we would fight. I'm surprised our friendship lasted really."

"It must have been worth it then, for the both of you."

Nala nodded slowly, smiling faintly at the memories of her friend. "It was." She had tried her hardest not to think about her life back in Ered Luin, which became a sort of distant memory. She truly does miss Fili but there was little chance they would ever meet again unless her brother was correct in guessing that they would one day return. And she doesn't miss Kili per se, more so just the familiarity of him. She knew what to expect and what to say.

That was the only thing she disliked about travelling. Growing up, Nala had been trained to act a certain way. A sheep among the wolves. She knew people – she knew how to behave around certain names and when she could let her guard down. But on the road, she had no idea who she was going to meet.

In a way Wikor reminder her of Fili. Perhaps that was the reason she felt drawn to him. There were many differences yes – they couldn't look more different, Wikor had a sense of constant ease about the world, and he held little care for the opinions of others whereas Fili had his guard up, not so much a pleaser, but a peacemaker. It was more to do with how she felt around them. It was the same contentedness – the ability to talk openly. They worked like a puzzle piece. Yet she had a feeling that they wouldn't get along very well. Perhaps she was basing that idea on the fact that her brother seemed to like Wikor, since her brother and Fili never had the same circle of relationships.

"Do you know what I do miss though?" she questioned lightly, tipping her head lazily to the side. Wikor gave her an inquiring expression. "Not having to pack." Wikor's eyes squint as he breaks into loud laughter the sounded through the field as Nala soon joined in. "You would think after five years we could do it quickly and with some level of coordination, but Bola just cannot for the life of him organise anything. I have to unpack and repack it every single time!"

"Your brother seems like the complete opposite to you," Wikor chortled.

"Sometimes he really is," she agreed. "Other times we're so alike my father would give us a strange look."

Their conversation moved on once more until Nala began to open up to him about her once home life. She confided in him about the faux persona she felt forced to fall into, how Fili's brother unknowingly threatened her family's image. Wikor listened, only speaking to ask questions before he forgot to.

"Sometimes I wish I just ran away," Nala said, looking out past Wikor to where the trees became denser. "I wouldn't have, not if I had to leave my family behind but I often dreamt of it." It felt like she was intruding slightly in her own thoughts – thoughts that she hadn't even spoken of to Fili. "Just to be myself, not have any responsibilities but keeping myself alive. But on the other hand I want to do more than that. I want to have a purpose."

Wikor sat up straighter, observing the young woman as she stared into the distance. "It sounds like you're having an identity crisis," he mused, only half-jokingly. Nala smiled mirthfully, turning her gaze to the ground. "I think you want the freedom to be yourself around the people that you care about, and you haven't had many opportunities in your life to do that. And because of that you thought running away would be a good option, but you wouldn't be happy because you would be alone. You're right, I've only known you a week, but I can tell that you thrive around people."

Nala's gaze had drifted up to him through the short speech, staring at him so intently that Wikor began to think she didn't even hear what he had said. Eventually, Nala smiled sadly. "I'm going to miss you."

"And I will miss you too young one," he teased, nudging her side with his elbow. "Will you write?"

"Definitely."

And she knew that she would. That day had sparked something back in her and she felt the desire to be back in Ered Luin reveal itself from the depths of her mind. It hadn't showed up in many months and it often was pushed straight back where it came from but that day, she let it flourish. Maybe Wikor was right – perhaps there was some way that she could thrive living in her old life but without losing what she gained in her new one.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to bird song and their small pile of desserts long gone. But the loosened smile on her lips dropped within a second as a harsh realisation coursed through her. Her eyes widened at the low sun, realising that the entire day had just about gone when she told her father she would try to be back at camp by noon. "Curses!"

She scurried to her feet, tripping over the hem of her dirt-covered dress as she gathers her belonging. "Are you alright?" Wikor asked, watching with wide, concerned eyes.

"I was supposed to be back six hours ago!" she cried, securing her satchel over her shoulder. Wikor jumped to his feet, helping to clean up their combined mess.

"You go," he said. "I can clean this up."

Nala paused, feeling guilty. "Are you sure?"

Wikor nodded, chuckling slightly. "Of course. They're probably worried about you."

Nala lunged forward, tightly embracing her new friend. Wikor grinned, returning the gesture. "I loved today. I'll convince my father to come back this way again and I promise to write you letters."

"I look forward to reading more of your adventures."

With that, Nala beamed at him one last time before sprinting back to the town. She didn't comprehend a single word of the loud chatter that she passes, her legs swifter than the horses of Rohan as she glides back through the large town. The material of her dress was bunched up under her fingers, revealing her knees which would be utterly scandalous outside that careless place. By the time she reached the outer edge of the town where her small family's camp laid, her lungs burned and her hair stuck up from the wind.

Bola was sitting on the edge of their caravan, whittling away at a piece of wood. He raised his eyebrow, leaning back against the crates the were quite clearly packed and ready for travelling. Her father and Bofur were standing next to their previous night's firepit.

Nala looked like a frightened squirrel, caught with nuts in her hands. "I am so sorry."