Hey everyone. Sorry that this has taken so long, I didn't mean to make you wait, but lots of things are going wrong right now. It is official - I have moved to Texas, however the amount of financial insecurity I have is absolutely terrifying and I will be working my butt off to fix this problem. I'm suffering from a massive amount of anxiety and that makes it really hard to write, but hopefully with my job and support from my family I can make it through. Also let me know what you think about the story so far.
Anyway! Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you for reviews. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.
angel897, Guest, lizaed – Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!
Nevermorea – I know we haven't chatted in a while, but I want to know how you are feeling and if your injury healed well. Also you promised me a review of the new Spiderman movie when it came out. Been too busy to start the fics you sent my way recently, but I will try to get to them eventually. I hope you really enjoy this part.
Kirgy5040yahoo – I'm grateful to hear you like Tahna and the way I am taking the story so far. As for the Battle of the Five Armies…you're going to hate me, then love me, then hate me, and love me when the end comes (I hope). I have been meaning to work both on my other Thorin story as well as my Caspian one I'm editing and expanding. Blessings and best wishes to you as well.
Chica90 - I'm glad you're enjoying her more tender side. I feel like certain writers make their characters either cry babies that need coddling or stone cold. Thankfully that doesn't happen much in this fandom, but I wanted to capture something in between. Texas was...interesting. Sadly things didn't go as planned so far, but I learned a lot about the area and I think I have a couple ideas of where I want to live. Stirring of the Leaves was really good.
lizziecats – Thank you so much! Your review made my entire week. I'm so happy that you like how I'm bring the story together as well as my OC. I love to write and this is a great outlet for me. I put in effort to make it an interesting and fulfilling story because that's what I like to read. I want others to enjoy this story and follow it until the end so I hope you enjoy every chapter and I will make an effort to be more on time. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again for the review. I really appreciate it!
I've decided to do a story recommendations corner for my lovely friends here on FF. Since you're here for Thorin/OC I will only recommend those unless otherwise requested. I have a few good Fili, Kili, and Dwalin ones on file. I really wish there were more Bilbo/OC, but meh. I will do two incomplete so you can follow along with the journey and one complete for those who are impatient = (Me…Most days…)
Kindle-the-Stars: Stirring the Leaves. *Complete*
Syvania: There is a Time. *Incomplete: Updated: 02/24/17
Lady Sophia of Arda: King of Ash and Fire. *Incomplete: Updated: 09/15/17
When I wake up light is only beginning to emerge in the sky. The fear that Azog would catch up with us must be too strong for me to sleep long. I do not move, however, as Fili and Kili have made a comfortable amount of warmth. Both my arms are sore from healing ritual, but one is stiffer than the other. Glancing up, I can see my hand still intertwined with Thorin's. I can feel the coolness of the metal from his rings. I don't move in fear of waking them, but I do take the time to admire Thorin's rings. One is a twice wrapped gold piece with a series of dwarf runes on them and the other is a silver and black with a block design that I nearly lost myself in tracing.
A shifting noise by the fire draws my attention away from Thorin. Gandalf has his back to me as he continues to stoke the fire. He doesn't seem to notice that I have awoken. Glancing around, I can see all the others are still asleep. I'm not sure whether I should announce my presence or not, but after only a moment of looking at the wizard's back it would seem that I didn't have much choice.
"Why don't you join me by the fire?" he asks quietly. "There is much we need to discuss."
I don't bother pretending like I don't know what he's talking about. However, I do find moving to join him difficult. Thorin's hand is tightly wrapped around mine so it takes several small tugs to render myself free. I move Fili's arm from my side and sit up. I crush a strangled noise in my throat as I feel the strain of my body from the days before. After taking a moment to recapture my breath I manage to move towards Gandalf and the fire, along with the cloak I had used through the night. As I sit I can feel the warmth of the fire seeping into my skin. For a few moments we don't speak, just listen to the crackling of the newborn fire and the morning birds. My eyes focus on Gandalf as he moves to hand me something. Looking at his hands I can see my hilts in hands. I check the back of my belt, as if not believing they are in his hands. I'm surprised I didn't notice them missing before. I take them back from him cautiously.
"I was not aware you were trained to use such magic," he says subtly.
"It's not something you go around telling everyone," I reply. I wonder what is going through his head as he looks me over. Wizards are strange creatures and I cannot begin to imagine what someone with such immense age might think of this situation.
"You will forgive me in assuming that it is not self taught," he says as he lights his pipe. Never once did his eyes leave mine. "You must have learnt it from somewhere."
I allow a small silence to permeate the air before answering, "Magic can be taught anywhere so that is irrelevant, but I was taught by someone." The grey pilgrim makes a small hum of encouragement. "After my father and I were chased out of Gundabad I fell through a crack of ice and broke my legs. It was so cold and I couldn't move; I thought I was going to die down there. However, it was only a day or so later that a blue wizard appeared."
"One of the blues?" whispers Gandalf with wide eyes. "Who was it?"
"Morinehtar."
For a moment he's silent before asking, "When did you see him last?" I can tell he is eager to hear my answer, but I also see cautiousness in his gaze.
"I last saw him a couple of decades ago…I don't know if he's still there."
He gives a gentle nod of understanding before a few more moments of silence fall between us. I don't know his reasons for inquiring about the blue wizard it gets me thinking. I can't help reminiscing about the first day I spent with my teacher.
Morinehtar woke me on the first morning and took me into one of the mountain tunnels that had been carved by the ice. There he offered me food, which I ate greedily. Then he provided me with clothes mean for someone at least three years my senior, allowing me to leave the rags I have been wearing the past year behind. Once we finished he bid that I follow him. He led me to a large chamber with ice coating every inch of the walls. There is no sign that anyone had carved the ice to its current form, but it appeared to naturally create several facets. None of them were clear enough to see my face, but my blurred image shifted amongst the many planes. The ceiling rested at a height similar to the walls of Imelkane. I didn't sense the magic there at first, the exhaustion too overwhelming to notice something like that. Morinehtar approached a large structure on one side of the room. It is a large block of ice with three hilts sitting on top of it. Not sure what I should do I remained in the center of the room, awaiting Morinehtar's instructions.
"Would you like to see your gift?" he asks. He gestures to the hilts, waiting for me to come towards him; but I can't bring myself to. I'm confused about what he's talking about. "It's alright, Tahna. Just come take a look."
After a few more moments I move forward cautiously. I don't know what to make of what he's trying to give me. Once I'm beside him he pushes me closer to the ice and begins to explain.
"Once I was given a very important task along with my brother," he begins. "But we failed in our mission and were almost consumed by the great shadow. It is only by the grace of our maker, Orome, that we were brought back from the edge and were given a new purpose."
"Who is Orome?" I asked curiously.
"Orome is one of the Valar. You may know him as Tauron," he answers.
"The Hunter?" I feel optimistic in my answer. I recall that name from our prayers in the Halls of Imelkane and in the Library of the Citadel.
"Yes. Each of the Valar have many names. I would teach them to you if you wish it."
"Maybe later. You were telling a story."
"Right, right," he chuckles as he continues. "Our new purpose is to prepare a very special person for a greater destiny." I made a face at that and he clearly noticed. "What sort of a face is that?"
"You aren't talking about me are you? I think you made a mistake."
"How so?"
"I'm not very special," I state. "My parents weren't very happy with me because I couldn't save them. I couldn't get away from the orcs. I'm not strong or smart so it can't be me."
He kneels down so he can look me in the eye with a sad smile. "You know I have a cousin who once believed that it is the small deeds of ordinary people that have the powers to keep darkness at bay. I for one agree with him. However, I hardly think you are entirely ordinary yourself. Did you know that Vana, Orome's wife, is the one responsible for the birth of your kind?"
I shook my head. Everything I had read about our people's origin were encapsulated in mystery. We appeared rather suddenly over the last few hundred years. As we were human it is natural to assume that Eru was responsible for our birth. There were very few differences between us and other humans we never thought much else of what made us different.
He gives me another smile, "This practically makes us cousins; I'll have you know." The statement draws a small smile from me and he takes it as a sign to continue.
"Whether or not you are special is a subjective question. What you think is special may differ from what I consider special. However, this is not a measure of whether you are special or not, but if you are worthy," my breath hitches a little as I remember my mother's final words. "These are very special swords, Tahna. Made by hands so that only the worthy may use them."
"But shouldn't you wait for whoever is supposed to have them?"
"He shall not be ready for them for many years yet," he says. "And I shall not remain much longer in this world. He shall need a teacher and it is my hope that it will one day be you." The surprise must have been apparent on my face because he pushes the point. "I have been waiting here for a very long time, Tahna, for someone to come along to carry these to the one who will one day unite the whole of Middle Earth. I have no doubt in my mind that it is meant to be you."
I look over at the hilts and consider his words carefully. I have nothing now. My parents and my home have been erased; leaving me only an uncle and a cousin who would have me stay at home for the rest of my life. My uncle was outspoken about his dislike of my training and living under his roof he would see to it I never held another sword; I knew it was out of love, not spite, but I couldn't live like that.
"How will I find him when it's time?" I ask.
"It will be revealed to you in time, but worry not for there are many years to pass before that time comes," he says with absolute certainty.
"Then what do I do while I'm waiting?"
"We will train together as you learn to master this magic, then you will return to the world and continue to learn what I cannot teach you," he says. I continued to stare thinking over his offer. My decision solidifies as I think about how I could use this to defeat the evil that has torn my entire life asunder.
"I'll do it. When do we begin?"
"Right now. Take hold of this hilt," he says gesturing to the stone one on the right. With baited breath I take hold of it. For a moment, when I took hold it felt too solid to ever move, then it suddenly gave away under my hand. I shout in fear that I had broken the sword.
"What's the matter?" asks
"I broke the sword!" He quickly starts to laugh at me, but I hardly think it's funny. Just as I was about to scold him for not acknowledging the importance of what I did, he cut in.
"It is not broken," he pacifies. "As I said before these are special. These blades are within the hilts." My eyes widen in wonder as I turn it over in my hands, trying to get used to the weight. The wizard is looking down on my with a smile on his face. "Now the other one," he encourages. I reach for the gold one in the middle, but he stops me in the middle of the motion and shakes his head.
"Not that one," he says.
"Why not?"
"You are not yet ready for that one. It is by far the most powerful of the three. It will take time and practice before you will be ready for this one. Take the other," he says.
I take him at his word and grab for the other hilt, which comes out just as quickly as the other had. I hold one in each hand and look up at Morinehtar who is appraising me silently. He looks pleased, but it is a little hard to tell with him. At the base I can see where the blades would go, but I don't see how anything could come out of it.
"What now? How do I get them to work?" I ask.
"Now we begin your training. The first lesson shall be your easiest and that is rage…"
"Tahna?"
At first I think Gandalf is trying to get my attention, but he is not looking at me. That's when I notice a hand on my arm. I look up at the owner to find Bilbo staring at me, concerned. I smile lightly at him, but I don't think it reaches my eyes.
"I'm sorry, Bilbo. What did you say?" I ask tenderly.
He frowns deeply, "I asked how you were feeling."
"Mostly just stiff and sore; it nothing anyone else here isn't feeling, but I thank you for asking Bilbo," I say. He doesn't look entirely convinced.
"Oin says you have anemia. That will make healing more difficult. Before we move we need to find you something that will ease your ailments," he says. I blush a little knowing that my anemia is my own fault. I never should have let myself go for so long on the herbs. I feel guilty that my own forgetfulness has cost us time.
"A very wise notion, my friend," I smile back, "One that I would hardly ignore. As I recall red meat, raisins, and cranberries are helpful. The first should be easy enough to find, but I don't know about the other two…"
At this Bilbo perked up somewhat, happy to be able to help, "Spinach and tomatoes are good for that as well. If I look around nearby I'm sure I could find something." He scans the tree line as if there is might be some growing within the line of sight. I can tell he is eager to help me, but I won't let him go running off into danger just because he was optimistic.
"Well if you're going out to find some you should take someone else with you. I…would feel uneasy if you went alone," I reply. I may not be as on edge as last night, but it is simple common sense not to travel alone. We are still in goblin country and it is well known that mountain lions, though rare still inhabit these hills.
"Agreed, but who should go with me? I don't want to bother anyone," says Bilbo shyly. I can see that almost everyone is still sleeping. This makes me wonder: why on Earth is Bilbo up before everyone else? Had he truly been so worried about me? It seems that I have caused a great deal of trouble.
"I will go with you."
We turn to see that Thorin has finally wakened. However, despite his determined proposal I can clearly see that he is just as stiff as I am. His dwarven strength and durability has been well and fully tested. If Oin were awake he would no doubt threaten to club his king over the head with his staff for even suggesting such a thing. Gandalf saw much the same as I and is not afraid to make mention of it.
"You are hardly in any condition to draw a bow, let alone hunt, Thorin Oakenshield," says the old wizard, chidingly. He walks stiffly towards the fire and I can clearly see his side is flinching every time he takes a step. I can almost feel the pain myself, every time he moves.
"I am well enough," he protests as he tries to hide the pain he's experiencing. I know he is stubborn and will try to accompany Bilbo regardless. Whether it is because he feels he owes Bilbo or because he is trying to prove that he is well enough to the rest of his men, doesn't mean he can go like this. As he approaches the fire, I turn towards him.
"Thorin, you and I are still recovering from our wounds. I implore you to rest. I dislike it as much as you, but we will not heal well if we force ourselves to continue." He looks as though he wants to argue further, but I cut him off once more. "Please, Thorin," I beg.
He stares me down long and hard. I keep eye contact in the hopes that he will see my genuine concern for him. After a few moments his eyes soften and he stands next to me, placing his large hands over my shoulders.
"Are you well?" he asks.
"Better than yesterday, I assure you," I laugh. When I see a small smile in return I continue, "Just as I was telling Bilbo, I am stiff and sore more than anything. I'm sure everyone else feels much the same."
"No one else has anemia, Tahna. You must rest in order to recover. We will see to your care," he replies tenderly. It is strange to see Thorin so gentle, but it makes my heart swell with happiness that he would share this part of himself with those of us who are not his kin.
"I know you will, but you are hurting too. Any among our company would do the same as what you are trying to do for me. Let those more able bodied take care of us; come join me at the fire instead," I say in hopes of distracting him from the task he intended to undertake. After a moment he nods and takes up a spot on the log beside me.
"Now what about our collection party?" asks Bilbo.
"I'll come with ya," offers Fili. He sits up with a stretch, bringing his sword with him. It's nice to see someone moving around with ease. He joins us by the fire as he adjusts his coat. "I know that protein is a good way to get the blood flowing so while Bilbo retrieves the…greenery I can find us some fresh meat."
Thorin looks like he's about to get up and join them again so I quickly say, "Take Dwalin with you." Thorin looks a little annoyed at my intervention, but says nothing. I glare back as if to remind him that we just had this conversation, but politely continue, "It's still safer to travel in groups of three."
"Easy for you to say," responds Fili as he walks over to the slumbering warrior. "You've never had to wake him up after a fight. He's probably still dreaming about it now." Exercising true caution, he picks up a stick that is meant for kindling and pokes Dwalin with it. His arm is as far from him as it would go, when Dwalin woke up with a battle roar and axe in hand. It was wise on Fili's part, but the reaction unfortunately woke the entire camp. Several members must have been having similar dreams because in an instant they grabbed their weapons.
"We need to find breakfast, Mister Dwalin," says Fili. "And you have been volunteered for duty. So let's get going." He tries to not make it look obvious, but he clearly does his best to separate himself from Dwalin with the distance the camp provides.
"Ya may be my prince, lad, but you're still too young to be giving me orders," answers Dwalin drowsily. Realizing there is no immediate danger he lowers his weapon. He closes his eyes again, as though he was trying to return to sleep. It also seems that many of the others agreed with him and tried to return to their own slumber.
"Dwalin, go with them," orders Thorin. With that Dwalin opens a single eye towards Thorin. A moment of silence passes before Dwalin stands. He stretches after sleeping upright all night; I recall how uncomfortable that can be after a couple rough nights of my own.
Dwalin takes a hearty gulp of water from his water skin as he stands near the fire. He watches as Bilbo and Fili collect some gear for their outing, silent for a moment before getting a little closer to the pair. He twirls his axe in his hands and addresses Fili, "You will pay for that jab when we spar next."
Fili pales slightly and starts to help Bilbo collect what he needs while keeping the hobbit between himself and Dwalin. A small smile breaks out over my face at the humor of the situation and when I turn to thank Thorin I see that he is watching me intently. I have never seen him like this before. I am used to his expression of puzzlement and consternation, but this feels different somehow, more tender. I open my mouth to ask him what is on his mind when Oin intervenes.
"Let me have a look at those wounds, aye?" He asks, but it's not really a question as he removes the cloak from my person.
I shudder at first not realizing how cool the air has become. It seems strange that though this is still summer it is touched with cold. Whether spring never left or autumn is early I cannot tell, but winter will surely be upon us sooner than we think; as will Durin's day. I feel a warm hand on my arm, sending goosebumps across my skin. I look over to see Thorin watching me worriedly. I send him a small smile to reassure him. He looks over at Oin.
"Do we have to do this now? It's still cold out and I thought we are supposed to be keep her warm," says Thorin inquisitively.
"So you only listen to my instructions when it concerns her?" asks Oin suggestively. The silence amongst the dwarves as they worked on their tasks is hardly subtle. I see Thorin's nose beginning to turn red at the statement, embarrassed that it is apparently true. I'm not immune either as my face heats up a little. There is a giddy feeling in my stomach, but I refuse to investigate such matters right now.
"I doubt dwarves often experience anemia. I have no doubt that Thorin is concerned from uncertainty with his own lack of experience more than anything else," I defend. Oin just makes a noise of agreement as he looks over the wound on my neck. I glance over at Thorin to find him looking back at me with a strange look. It almost looks like he is about to smile, but his face is just a tad too tight it can't seem to take form. He looks away quickly so I instead turn to look at the mottled purple bruise across my chest; it is with relief though that the purple has begun to fade into a yellow color. It may be healing, but that color still looks sickening. I'm sure the bruises on my neck are much the same at the moment. I touch one of the bruises and pull my hand away with a hiss when it stings.
"Stop touchin' em," says Oin chidingly.
I quickly secede to his wishes and instead watch the rest of the camp as they begin their morning routine. Bombur and Bofur went to the river to collect water for boiling. We would drink our fill and fill our skins before we continued onward. Gloin was displeased that Gandalf had started the fire, as it is his specialty, but he did not complain long. He and Dori are tasked with setting up the stand so that they may boil the water over the fire. Nori and Ori are taking the time to mend some of the clothes that were damaged in the fire and the fighting. Mostly tunics and breeches from the looks of things; except for Bofur's socks which had distinctive holes in each pair. I don't think Bofur has ever had his socks mended, especially guessing by the smell if nothing else. Kili appears to keep falling asleep before he can fully wake up. It's only with Bifur's help that he stands and the pair with the assistance of Balin leave to check the perimeter once more.
"You seem to be healing quite nicely, considering the circumstances," says Oin. It brings your attention back to him. He places a large hand on your forehead to see whether a fever had set in. He shakes his head slightly as he pulls his hand back. "None of your wounds are infected and there is no sign of fever, but there is quite a chill about you lass. Stay warm by the fire and wrapped in the cloak. It will be better once we have some food in you. We can set off when it reaches noontime; by then the weather will be warm enough for us to travel further and you will have the easiest time moving."
"Thank you, Oin," I reply with a small smile. It's good to know that we can move forward soon. I worried that I had slowed the company down and it would lead to our capture. To know that we could move soon brought me relief. With Oin's examination over, Thorin helps me readjust the cloak as I settle once more near the fire.
"Your turn," says the healer as he turns towards Thorin. Thorin looks less than enthusiastic about his treatment. However, as he sheds his layers I hold them for him. I admire each layer I'm handed so as to not be distracted by Thorin's nakedness. I think that if I were to stare too long I would blush at the memory of him at Rivendell. I am particularly interested with his light chainmail. The compressed hexagon with the double ridge in the center feels smooth under my fingers. I draw patterns, hopping from one plate to the next. I'm only interrupted when Thorin throws his shirt over my hands. I look up only to see him smiling; it is a brilliant thing and beautiful. I cannot help return the smile as well. I look back down at the newest garb. It is a dark blue with dark etching along the collar. It is a dwarf rune I recognize; it means memory with the eternal lock around it. In its whole it means remembrance. It looks well-worn and though stained with sweat and blood, it appears comfortable.
"Miss Tahna?"
I look up to see that the others had returned victorious from their expedition. Bilbo's hands appear full as Fili and Dwalin carry a large buck into camp. There is a rousing cheer as Gloin and Fili set to dressing the deer. Bilbo hands some greenery to Bombur telling him to mix it into the meat. I can only recognize wild parsley among the herbs, but I trust Bilbo to know what he's doing. However, he brings me an armload of peaches and places them on top of Thorin's clothes.
"No luck with the cranberries or tomatoes; or the spinach come to think of it. Lucky for us there are a couple peach trees a little further back in the valley. They will have to do for now," says Bilbo sheepishly. I smile and prepare to thank him when he cuts me off again, "Bombur is going to season the meat with parsley, sage, and some nettle. Hopefully, that will be enough to set you on the path to getting well soon."
"Thank you for your help my friend," I say. "I have no doubt that this will hasten my recovery." I pick up peach and bite into the fuzzy skin, the sweet juice filing my mouth as though I had drunk the peach rather than eat it. The surprise causes me to cough after I swallowed the pulp of the fruit.
Bilbo slips in, grabbing some of the fruit and stating, "We have to save some of these. We don't know how long it will be before we find more." I nod and take another bite from the peach. As he walks off I look over to see Thorin staring at me once more. With a thick swallow I offer him the tasty globe. He looks between me and the fruit with a raised eyebrow. When he doesn't respond with words I bring the fresh food to my mouth and take another bite. This time I took more than I could chew and therefore had to lick my lips after swallowing. I finishes it hurriedly and toss the pit away. I place the rest of Bilbo's bounty in my satchel for later eating; I'm mostly trying to preserve space in stomach for some of the deer meat the dwarrow have managed to procure. It is not much longer that the other party returns from scouring the perimeter.
As they enter the camp Kili is the first to speak, "Thorin? Is something wrong with Tahna?"
My head instantly turns to look at Thorin once more. I catch him for a second where his gaze returns mine before he looks away. I feel warm in my face and butterflies in my stomach, but I rather not discern why; so I instead answer Kili's question.
"Thorin is just worried about the condition of my anemia," I state.
"Has it gotten worse?" asks Kili concernedly.
"No, I'm just cold is all," I answer. My heart jumps a little at the fact that this statement is actually a borderline lie. However, Kili doesn't seem to notice and no one else makes a comment. So Kili, true to form, takes Thorin's over coat from my hands and wraps it around me securely. Then he gives me his own overcoat and clips it to my shoulders.
"Well if Uncle is so concerned he should be ensuring your care," he says with joking manner. However, Thorin's face is absolutely thunderous at the insinuation. I feel it is borderline comical.
"I'm sure he would, but Oin is keeping him busy," I say just as Oin lifts his arm to check the bandages along his side. Kili accepts this answer with a nod. He gently pat my head like a child before returning to his brother's side. However, looking at Thorin I have a feeling that Kili had best watch his back for a couple days.
I feel something brush up against my other side and when I look over its Balin. I don't know why, but he looks so sad for some reason. Even the smile he wears is sad. I want to ask him about it, but he doesn't provide me with the chance.
"We have some hours yet before we leave so I hope you do not mind answering a few of our questions, lass," prompts the old warrior. Oin stands and declares Thorin clear of infection and being in good health. He heads over to Dori and Nori who are stitching up his cloak. Thorin looks like he wants to deflect the conversation, probably out of worry for my condition; but they have the right to know and I doubt there will be a much better time than now in upcoming days. I place my hand on his arm and shake my head.
"I know, Balin," I respond quietly, "Please…ask your questions." I hand Thorin back his tunic so that he may begin redressing as we wait.
"Then I shall start with what is on everyone's mind," he sighs. "Where did you get your powers, lass?" Everyone has quieted to hear my explanations with interest.
"That's the easiest one," I reply. "After I escaped Gundabad I fell through a large crack in the ice, which had been hidden in the snow. I shattered my legs in the fall so I lay there in an underground cavern for a day. That's when…" I look up to see everyone is hanging on my every word so I continue, "That's when a wizard appeared. One of blue wizards that Gandalf mentioned, his name is Morinehtar. He saved me and healed me. When I was well he offered me a gift – the magic swords. He taught me how to use them; how to fight with them."
"So you've had them the whole time?" asks Ori.
"And that's why you nearly took my hand off when I tried to take them," adds Nori.
"Yes, to both," I answer.
"Why didn't you use it against the trolls? Or the orcs?" asks Gloin.
"I would have if I had to, but the swords are a last resort. Naturally, such powerful magic has its draw backs," I answer. The dwarves nod remembering what happened in the river the other day. I pull the hilts out and hold them in front of me. I hold up the stone hilt first, "This is Frostfang. The ice blade can only be mastered if all emotions are put aside and you act on instinct alone. It doesn't matter if your friends are in trouble you must focus on the fight at hand or…"
"The ice breaks and the magic doesn't work," says Fili. "Like it did when the tree was falling; when you came to save us. You lost your concentration."
"Yes," I answer. "These blades require absolutes and nothing less. If you break concentration the blade dissipates and disperses."
"And the other one?" asks Dwalin. I can see him eyeing the piece of black metal in my hand with a cautious eye.
I lift it begrudgingly to show the others, "This is Dragonfire. I find the name rather ironic considering the journey we are currently undertaking. All of you have seen this power up close and personal, but bear in mind that this blade is forged with emotions; particularly anger and hate." It stung to admit that, but it has to be done. I wouldn't hurt them with lies.
"How does that work? Do you use your memories?" asks Dwalin.
"Not really; I guess not often. Memories fade over time. As more experiences take their place those much closer to the present override them. In order to keep the blade lit I most focus my anger against something or someone living. They appear in the flames like a shade, I attack using them as my main target while whoever is behind the shade receives it."
"…Is that what you thought you were seeing when you looked at me?" asks Dwalin.
"At first," I say, "She taunts me. And at first I thought you were her, but when you called out for Thorin, afraid that I had hurt him, it brought me back. My own fear that I had somehow hurt Thorin called me back and made the shade disappear."
"So you cannot tell friend from foe?" asks Kili in shock.
"Not if I let myself be consumed," I repose. I can see the shock on their faces so I work quickly to allay their fears, "It's never happened to me though…I…I always found a way to stop."
There is a momentary pause as the dwarves allow for this new information to sink in. To fill the space in between Bofur and Dori begin dealing out portions of breakfast. The silence isn't necessarily comfortable, but it isn't uncomfortable either. It's like returning home after a battle; there is something assuring that we are heading home with other survivors, but mourning our losses left it bittersweet. However, I'm brought out from my thoughts by Bombur as he hands me a rather full bowl of soup. I take the first bite and my mouth delights from the taste of fresh meat. Many moments pass with nothing, but slurps and greedy gulps filling the air.
"Is Azog the one who destroyed Imelkane?" asks Balin suddenly. I look up at him in surprise and return the spoonful of soup back into the bowl. "The Great Goblin said that he did and that he was the one that carried off your mother…Is it true?"
I could feel the weight of the company's gaze on my shoulders as the word fell out of my mouth limply, "Yes." There is both relief and heartache in this confession. They finally know the missing piece of the puzzle I had neglected to tell them which means there is no longer anything to hide; but at the same time the memory is strangely more painful now. As if by pretending that my enemy could be any orc is a half truth that I had begun to believe myself; now being reminded of the truth is somehow more painful than before.
"What happened, lass? What did that monster do?" asks Bofur with tenderness in his voice. His gentle manner only makes me all the more emotional and tears well in my eyes. Memories of Gundabad settle uncomfortably in my throat as I try to push them away. Before I could a stop it a few rogue tears fall and I set my soup aside to wipe them away. Bofur, the sweet dwarrow he is quickly adds, "Don't cry, lass. I'm sorry if I have upset you. You don't have to say if you don't want."
I release a small chuckle, "You haven't upset me. You have been nothing, but good to me regardless of all that I hid from you. You make me happy; happier than I have been in years. It's Azog, my memories, and myself…these things upset me. You have nothing to apologize for – not now and not ever."
I look down at my soup and cannot imagine stomaching it now; not for lack of Bombur's culinary skills, but the way my stomach churns now I would surely lose it. I leave the bowl on the log and instead move closer to the fire.
"Tahna, you must eat," says Fili in a rather fatherly tone.
I shake my head gently, "Not now. I feel as though I might retch. Though it has nothing to do with your food, Bombur, I promise you. I just…" I don't think that say I don't feel good will exactly calm a bunch of worrying dwarves.
"There is a chance that eating too much may aggravate your anemia. Perhaps it would be best to stop for now," says Oin. I'm thankful for Oin's intervention as I began to fear that others may have begun to force food down my throat in their attempts to help me.
"I have the peaches Bilbo brought me," I say as I send a smile towards the hobbit, "I will not go hungry I'm sure." I notice Bombur eyeing my portion of the soup, but saying nothing. I know it would be a shame to waste such a thing, and he is always hungry, so I pass it to him. "Here, Bombur. Such a soup shouldn't be wasted." With a large smile and a grateful nod he takes the soup gingerly from my hands.
I curl up once more by the fire; however, I no longer sit on the log, but the ground. Thorin's leg brushes by my shoulder as I sit. My inner turmoil has exhausted me and I already feel the need to return to slumber. I lightly grasp Thorin's leg as to not scare him.
"Please keep talking, I don't want to go to sleep," I beg.
"There is plenty of time for rest," says Oin. "A little more sleep wouldn't hurt you in the least. We have some time yet before we leave." I don't feel comfortable being unable to stay awake, but perhaps it would be better in the long run if I allowed myself to rest. Perhaps staying awake now would only make me more tired when we go to continue our journey.
A hand settles on my shoulders and I look up to see Thorin looking back at me intensely. "Rest," he says, "we shall wake you when it's time. We wouldn't leave you behind."
"I know," I say with a smile. I find a more comfortable angle along the log, leaning my head against Thorin's thigh. I fall asleep so quickly that I miss the looks the others send Thorin's way. I fell into sleep's embrace far easier than I thought it would be possible and thankfully no dark dreams plagued me.
Thorin looks down at the sleeping ranger, the urge to brush her hair with his hand is almost impossible to ignore. His fingers nearly ache from not doing it, but he couldn't do it in front of others. He knew that humans didn't value their hair the same way that dwarrow did, but he was raised to treat it as something intimate. That didn't mean he didn't want to, but it's not something you do without permission or with others watching. He's sure that his compatriots wouldn't appreciate his behavior while she was sleeping.
Thorin continues eating his breakfast without looking at the others. He knew that if he met their gaze, particularly those of his nephews' unwanted words would be exchanged. The King Under the Mountain isn't even sure how he would explain himself; this behavior isn't exactly typical. Luckily, it seems that much to her request the others continue to speak of other things.
"Now that we've seen her powers I'm not surprised she took down Gijak," says Gloin conversationally. "That bugger was as slippery as a snake. He was responsible for countless raids in Eriador. Men, dwarves, elves; it didn' matter to him. They called him the Soul Eater because he was never one for mutilation, but he would prop his victims 'round like they were still livin'. The people who discovered the bodies said their eyes were pale and soulless."
"Word also has it that he was Bolg's brother," adds Dwalin sinisterly. At that Thorin blanches slightly. Thorin had received word some years ago that Azog's son, Bolg had taken over the remaining orc forces in Moria. It left a knot in his stomach for days to know that Azog's line had also endured and rallied in his forefather's halls. It made him sick just thinking about the scum; however, he had not thought much more on the matter at the time.
"So she was hunting them before she met us?" asks Kili sadly.
"That would be my guess," says Balin. "I would not have imagined that a child of Imelkane would be brought to something as mindless as revenge." Thorin looks over, confused with his old friend. It seems so out of place that he would be so judgmental with any one, least of all her.
"And how is that so different from what we have undertaken?" asks Thorin.
At this Balin looks up with pride in his eyes, "We are reclaiming our homeland and the riches that rightfully belong to our people."
"I know we do not discuss it often, for we are still too far out, but what of the dragon?" the dwarf lord retorts.
"He may well be dead," responds the elder in kind.
"But he may not. And if he is not; if he is waiting in those caverns do you think that killing him will be self-defense? No, Balin. We will avenge all who have fallen and take revenge for the pain and suffering he brought down on us and all those we care for," states Thorin. "I'm sorry if the image of Imelkane's people is not as pure as you remember, but she is not like those you preserve in your memory. Her home has been lost, her family slaughtered – she has nothing Balin except revenge."
Balin's face softens and becomes sad once more, "You are right, Thorin. I just wish…Forgive me, but I suppose I was just caught up in the memory."
Dwalin and Thorin exchange a look. Dwalin appears just as clueless as Thorin for an explanation to his brother's current attitude. They both decide to leave it for another time. And thankfully Bilbo sees fit to add in his thoughts.
"What of that shadow? Gandalf, what sort of creature was that?" asks the hobbit somewhat fearfully.
"That was the Necromancer of Dol Guldur. He is in league with the Pale Orc and when he had sensed Tahna's imminent encounter with Azog, he intervened," says Gandalf with a tired huff in his voice. "It is likely that he will reappear again, especially as we draw closer to the Greenwood. However, he is still somewhat weak as his powers have limited range. This encounter might have drained him and given us the time we need to navigate the elven path quickly. All I can say is that Tahna is his target, if he does appear again, he will be after her."
The mere mention of the old fortress is enough to send a chill down Thorin's spine. That building, no matter how old or how decrepit it appeared was no doubt soaked to the stone with evil. It has been a symbol of the enemy for nearly two millennium. Thorin has only ever seen it at a distance when his people were forced to wander the Wilderlands, but it was enough to set his teeth on edge and a paranoia the likes of which he has never experienced since.
He looks down at the ranger's sleeping face, imagining the thing – this Necromancer – coming from that place. He supposed it was fitting, but at the same time it motivates him to become ever more vigilant. Once they reached the mountain and managed to slay the dragon she would be safe there, out of reach from his evil. With that thought he is ready to move, feeling as though time of another sort was running out. Not only is time slipping away before Durin's Day, but now so is the time before the shadow returned for Tahna.
"Everyone, finish your meal - noon is swiftly approaching. Break camp and prepare to move out. There are many more leagues to travel yet before we reach the mountain and even less between us and Azog. We must make haste," says Thorin.
With those words everyone works to eat quickly before breaking down what small gear they have. The stand over the campfire is the last to go as it cleansed the last batch of water to refill everyone's water skins. Those who were unable to bathe yesterday took their turn now, thankfully without much lollygagging. Oin checks Thorin and Tahna's bandages once more to ensure they would stay in place while they moved throughout the day. Thorin thought it rather humorous that Tahna didn't even stir while the healer looked her over; he has only known her as a light sleeper so it is nice to know she can sleep more deeply amongst the safety of her friends.
Dwalin, Gandalf, and Thorin look over the map once more; Gandalf claims that there is an ally nearby, but Thorin is hesitant. Gandalf will not say much about him other than his hatred of orcs. While Thorin would rather not go into an unknown person's care, there are not many options. So they locates path through the remaining peaks and foothills that will put them at the man's doorstep. Last minute provisions are collected and stored and before he knew it all the others are ready to leave. The only task left is to wake up Tahna. He nudges her shoulder gently, but she barely stirs.
"Tahna?" he asks. She seems to awaken slightly and a small gasp escapes her lips. "It's time to go."
At this she pulls herself upright. The slight wince on her face tells him that her soreness still has not subsided, but she gives him a small smile that jolts his heart. She rises and brings herself to her full height. Thorin usually found looking up to be an annoying necessity to communicate with other races, especially elves; but not for her. When he was looking up at her…it is almost like the same way he would look up at the top of Erebor. It is like looking up at something beautiful, something that felt like home.
"Ready," she says.
Next: Beorn, revelations, and a few more tears…