Author's Note: Rue and Gimli are now on their way to Ered Luin, and then the Shire ;) Thanks DwarvenWarrior, ElynFlame, CannonRebel, house of the falling sun, anna. pantelarou, UKReader, SiaSaySomeday, Adeleidhis, SwanInProgress, and Guest for the reviews! All your reviews were so, so loved this week as corny as that sounds. Last weekend, I posted my query letter for my manuscript on a public forum (for those who don't know what queries are, they are letters addressed to literary agents that are meant to entice and must be under 250 words. Stressful little buggers). Anyway, I'm not trying to sound all whiny, but someone on that forum called my book idea "horrible." And so I guess I just want to say your reviews really, really cheered me up during a brief time where I was like, "Should I even be a writer? I'm I wasting my time?" Thanks so much for making me feel better :) And before I forget, also thanks for the follows and favorites. Response to Guest will be below.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Don't You (Forget about Me)" by Simple Minds. Yes, The Breakfast Club!
Chapter Six: Don't You Forget about Me
Traveling with Gimli turned out to be an entirely different experience from traveling with Thorin. For one, Gimli laughed, and a lot. He also was a chatterbox. She missed Thorin's silent prowess, the intensity he had about everything, the way he listened and remembered things. Lamely, Rue even missed his spring-like scent. She just missed him.
They were leading the pony they had "borrowed" from the Blue Mountains up a steep mountainside. Borrowed meant Gimli sneaking in the barn, grabbing a pony, and then making a run for it while his mother could be heard bellowing from his house, "GIMLI!"
The last two days of traveling north had been hell. Continuously, they'd been walking in an upwards slant, cold wind gusting their faces. The blue flannel jacket she had found in her backpack―only jacket that was hers actually―and brown trousers Dis had given her were doing nothing to keep the cold from chilling her bones. And on an even worse note, she had started her period yesterday. Bleh. Now she was wearing the weirdest feminine products she'd ever seen in her life, things that looked like pads part-diaper. Luckily, Dis had been awesome enough to give her some, though. For that, Rue was forever grateful.
Gimli said Gloin had taken him to Ered Luin four times. Rue knew he had a reputation of over exaggerating, so four times probably meant only once or twice. Still, the gnawing feeling that something was wrong was getting even worse the farther they went. She just kept imagining Thorin dead somewhere or trapped after some kind of supposed accident. Was Naji that crazy to deliver on his threats? If Naji was a Stocktonian, Rue would've been like, "Hell yeah," but he was a Man of Bree, of Middle-earth. In some sickening ways, Middle-earth was crazier than Stockton was.
"This is a fist bump," Rue explained while Gimli watched her hands in fascination as he held the pony's reins. She bumped his fist with hers, Gimli nodding.
"Lass, is this a greeting in your realm?" he asked, chuckling brightly.
"Lots of men say hello like this."
"So we bump fist?" Gimli asked hesitantly, quirking up an eyebrow because he probably thought it was pretty strange. "It is like the way Dwarf men of the same kin greet each other, except―" He brought a thick finger to his forehead― "We use our heads for the bumping."
She giggled. "Really? That's like the Hells Angels or something!" Dwarves were like motorcycle gang members too?
"Hells Angels?" Gimli asked, stepping over one particularly big rock in his path. "What are Hells Angels?"
"They're a clan from my home." She gave a little shrug, not wanting to elaborate that they killed people and participated in illicit activities, all the while riding motorcycles cross-country. Gimli was too young for that kind of info.
"Oh," he said deep-throatily, nodding.
Rue stole a glimpse at her shoes. The soles were nearly falling off, the jagged terrain they were forced to climb doing a number on them. She paused, doubling over to tie her shoelaces that had come undone for the sixth time today.
Gimli stopped walking, peering down at her. He was probably summing up the same opinion Thorin had of her: an inconvenience.
"I have some boots. They are a little big, but they should fit well nonetheless," Gimli grumbled, digging in his pack and pulling out brown boots. The insane laces on the boots scared the crap out of Rue, but she took them anyway. Thank goodness. Over the past two days, Rue had noticed Gimli always pulled the right something out of that pack―which was starting to remind her of Hermione's bewitched beaded bag.
She sat on the rocky path, the sharpness of several rocks digging into her butt. Rue fleetingly noticed the pony's hooves were inches from her arms. A few minutes later, after being yelled at by an aggravated Gimli for not knowing how to lace up the boots, she was up on her boot-clad feet. They were thick, sturdy, and warm. She felt like a badass, like Thorin. There was a little kick in her heart at the thought of him.
They were climbing up the mountainside, everything feeling more colorful thanks to the newfound playfulness in mood. The morning sky was pinkish-red and made Rue think of that "Nothing Gold Can Stay" poem used in The Outsiders, even though the sky wasn't gold. She was all artsy-fartsy happy in her new boots, thinking up artsy-fartsy descriptions and having honky dory feelings.
"Just a bit longer, and then we can ride the pony again." Gimli grinned. "When we arrive to the Shire, lass, my father will be in the shock of his life. He will know he was mistaken not to take me when he sees I have made my own way while taking care of a lass." Taking care of her? Rue didn't see it that way. Last night, she had kept watch and comforted him after he had a nightmare of his mom catching him on the mountain pass to Ered Luin.
She nodded along, pursing her lips as she sidestepped a moss-covered rock. Beads of sweat trailed down the back of Rue's neck. She was about to reach for one of her few precious hair ties―precious because her crazy hair broke them all the time―in her backpack when she slammed right into the pony's rear. Rue bounced back, blinking in surprise. Gimli was a little ahead, mouth hung open, frozen on the spot. In front of Gimli was one of the many high points of the mountainside and beyond that it seemed to slope downwards.
Squeezing past the pony's junk in the trunk, Rue went to stand by Gimli's side, breathing hard. That expression couldn't be good. She followed Gimli's eyes, stumbling backwards when she saw him. Thorin. King Under the Mountain. He had been climbing up, near the high point, mouth slightly parted at the sight of them.
He was walking with a limp in his gait, using a stick. Thorin glared when he saw Rue's eyes on the stick, throwing it aside furiously. Quickly, she looked away.
"King Under the Mountain." Gimli bowed, seeming completely awestruck by Thorin. "We took this pass, for we were in fear of―of how long it has been since you left home. We were searching for you―" He pointed at Rue― "It was the lass's idea." Well, partially.
Rue bounded forward, scared shitless of doing something wrong to offend Thorin, but hey―he looked injured.
Her tongue fell limp, but mangled words came out anyway.
"Ohmygodareyouokay?"
Thorin snarled, "What?" He took one-step forward determinedly, the tips of his boots slipping a little on loose rock. Fleeting panic was on Thorin's face, but he straightened his stance right away, continually forcing himself to walk.
Luckily, Gimli had Rue's back.
"She asked of your condition?"
Rue and Gimli met each other's eyes, silently concluding that Thorin was hurt and they somehow had to get him to agree for medical examination.
"It does not matter," Thorin growled now, halting, nostrils flaring. Oh, no. She knew that look. Thorin continued on, seething, "I am returning to the Blue Mountains and I find a mere Dwarfling traveling with a woman―who I clearly told to wait with my sister and nephews for my return!" Thorin was starting to get a little red in the face. Rue unrealistically hoped it was the cold, not his temper. Was it a bad time to say his nephews weren't at home anymore?
Rue took a step backwards in fright while Gimli's eyes fell to the ground in shame.
She sputtered, "But―but―"
"BUT WHAT?"
Thorin went to take another step-forward. His bad leg gave out. He stumbled, losing his footing, nearly falling. Rue rushed forward, throwing her arms around Thorin's shoulders to keep him upright. Gimli joined Rue, tucking an arm underneath Thorin's arms.
"You―what happened?" she stammered, realizing one of her worst fears had come true. "What happened to your leg?"
Stubbornly, Thorin attempted to pull away from their grips, but in a crazy brave act, Gimli puffed out his chest and began to lower a snarling Thorin to the ground. Rue helped.
"I AM FINE!" he roared.
"I cannot allow you to continue on if you are injured," Gimli explained nervously, redness sinking into his cheeks. "My―my uncle is a healer! He has showed me a few things, such as healing horse babes, pig babes, and cow babes. How different can a Dwarf King be, yeah?" Rue knew his list of "patients" only meant one horse baby, but she didn't care. If Gimli knew anything about healing, it was miraculous. She knew jack-shit about playing Dr. House. By the way, she was starting to notice some resemblances between Dr. House and Thorin.
They continued to lower a struggling Thorin to the ground, who seemed seconds away from punching Gimli first, and then her.
"I told you already, I am fine!" Thorin hissed from his spot on the ground. He tried to get back up, only for Gimli to stand over him, who fearlessly reached for Thorin's bad leg. King Under the Mountain blinked, his mouth parting before closing. It was certainly obvious he never expected Gimli to be so insistent.
Rue plopped to her knees next to Thorin, shrugging her backpack off.
"Please―just let us take a look? And if it's not bad, then maybe we can put you on the pony, take you to the Blue Mountains―"
"WE ARE HEADING FOR THE SHIRE!" Thorin shouted, jerking a finger up the mountain slope, figuratively meaning the pathway to the Shire. "GIMLI IS RETURNING TO THE BLUE MOUNTAINS, WHERE HE BELONGS!"
Rue tried to block out his shouting, her eyes cautiously traveling over Thorin's injured leg. And then she saw it. Underneath the hem of his tunic, which Gimli had impatiently pushed aside, was a gash. Blood soaked through his trousers.
That wasn't an injury caused by―
"Your majesty," Gimli said carefully, "what weapon caused this? I must know to heal as best I can. I am not trying to be prying." He bit his lip nervously, eyes awkwardly darting away from Thorin.
Thorin chucked his sword aside and bedroll, grumbling underneath his breath, "A sword."
Oh, crap.
The wound was four inches deep, oozing blood―according to Gimli it would have been oozing puss, too, if it wasn't for Thorin's Dwarf blood. Gimli had explained Dwarves could heal faster, which was pretty awesome. They were like…Wolverine?
Unfortunately, it had started to rain, so they were forced to seek shelter in a cave that was conveniently on the bottom of the mountain pass on the way back. For once, they'd been lucky. It hadn't been easy getting Thorin to the cave. One, he insisted that he was fine and "they keep going" anyway. Two, he had been too damn stubborn to accept their help on the way down, so Thorin had slowed their pace big time. Rue didn't care, and she didn't think Gimli cared either. Thorin's well-being was the first priority. If only he thought that. He seemed hell-bent on getting to the Shire one way or another. See, if this were Harry Potter, she could apparate them there. Simple. But since this was Middle-earth, they had to ride ponies―and walk. One of those hovercrafts from The Hunger Games wouldn't be so bad to have, either, right about now.
Firelight glowed against the dimness of the cave. Gimli had gotten a fire going before he left to venture outside the cave in search of healing herbs and plants in the surrounding forest, anything that would help Thorin heal faster. Rue awkwardly sat with her back facing Thorin, knowing he was forced to sit with his trousers pulled halfway down because of where his wound was. He was kind of half-naked. Rue couldn't help the blush that kept creeping up her cheeks every time she imagined "accidentally" turning around and seeing him. Not that she would ever do that. Thorin was a very private person, and damn her if she was low enough to do that.
Rue shivered from the cold. Drips from the cave ceiling landed on her shoulders. She scooted inches to the left, careful not to turn whatsoever. If she were this cold, then maybe Thorin―
She didn't think, leaning forward to grab her colorful Jansport backpack. Rue unzipped it, digging inside the large pocket for several moments. Her fingers clenched onto softness―her Tigger blanket from back home. Natalie had gotten it for her when she was twelve and oddly obsessed with Tigger. She wasn't anymore. Nope. Okay, maybe a little.
Rue clumsily stood up, swallowing hard. She walked backwards, doing some kind of weird moonwalk.
Thorin growled defensively, "What are you doing?"
Covering her eyes with one hand, Rue spun around, heading for him. She stopped inches away from Thorin, or at least the spot she thought he was.
"Here." Rue tried to hand him the blanket, which he refused to take. It was one hell of a battle not to see him as she bent down, awkwardly draping his legs.
Rue could feel him tense.
"Are you covered?" she asked quietly, gulping.
"Yes." His voice was a rough growl, bordering on disbelief.
Rue's hands dropped to her sides as she stood up. She looked at Thorin, who was sitting closest to the fire, his face a mask of incredulity. Quickly, the incredulity vanished. Now he seemed cross, fire burning in his blue eyes.
Rue was nervous, her hands behind her back. "Now you can be a little warmer and not have to feel weird about―uh―your injury." Her gaze fell to the rocky floor. Man, did she sound like an idiot.
"Why did you come?"
Rue blinked, open-mouthed as she forced herself to look Thorin in the eye. The question was genuine, his eyes fleeting over her face for the answer because he clearly thought there was a ninety-nine percent chance she would be deceitful. Rue didn't take it personally. She had learned Thorin suspected everybody who wasn't a Dwarf to be shady, sometimes even Dwarves, too. He just expected people to screw him over.
"You see," Rue started clumsily, the tip of her new boots scuffing against the floor in her sudden nervousness, "Gimli came to my window one night. He was all like, 'Lass, you wanna go to the Shire?' I was like, 'Yeah, but only if we can go to Ered Luin first.' Dis told me you would be okay, but―" She frantically waved her arms about― "I just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, Thorin. And I―I was right!" Rue cried, pointing at his legs, her bottom lip quivering. "I wish I wasn't right. What―was it―" She shut her eyes for one long moment, trying not to cry― "Naji?" Rue opened her eyes, shaking all over. Her hand pressed against her forehead in frustration. Please no.
Thorin shifted uncomfortably, gazing at the cave floor. "It was not that Man, but it was a Man of Bree, paid by him to slew me." His words echoed darkly in the cave, this sudden coldness twisting through the air. It was as though his words drained all the color in the world. Everything was mute, hopeless.
Rue blinked back tears, pacing back and forth. She hugged herself, feeling like a pile of the Hungarian Horntail's dung. No. She was probably even lower than that. Thorin was hurt because of―of―
An ugly choking noise was ripped from her throat as she whirled toward Thorin. Pathetically, Rue fell to her knees, forearms shivering in the rapid wave of emotions skyrocketing through her body. Her fault. It was all her fault. Couldn't she just go home? So she would stop ruining Thorin's life.
"I'm sorry!" Rue howled like some out-of-control animal, sending a hand smacking the rocky floor. That had been a stupid idea. Pulsations of pain shot through her hand. Her fingers were shaking, but Rue didn't care. She deserved every ounce of pain. Uselessly, her forearms came to rest on her knees. Rue was trembling all over, desperately trying to keep her tears at bay. But of course she sucked at not crying.
Thorin's eyes were wide, mouth parted. His fingers were on the blanket, and that was when Rue noticed the blood from his wound had soaked through the blanket. It was enough to calm her down. Rue crawled closer to him, shaking her head.
"I'll find him. Stop this. I―" Rue outstretched a hand toward Thorin's shoulder in a lame attempt of comfort― "I just have to make sure you're okay first. I'm sorry, Thorin. For everything―"
Thorin snapped, "Can you not see the truth?" His words were heavy, making Rue's head snap upwards.
"What do you mean?" she asked weakly, lightly touching his shoulder. Gosh, this was going to be the moment when he jerked away from her touch, and said, "Get the hell out my life."
Thorin was deadly serious. Between clenched teeth, he explained, "If that Man really wanted you, then why would he have not waited outside the Blue Mountains? Why would he have not waited until you were alone? He―" Thorin's voice was louder, more ferocious― "Wishes a sick vengeance on me." Thorin was staring at the fire, getting lost in the flames, squeezing the blanket with fistfuls of animosity.
"Good point," Rue quietly sputtered, uncomfortably dropping her gaze. "I never thought―I just―it was stupid of me to think he was after me when…" When it was clear, he had something against Thorin. When it was clear, it would take a miracle for any person to be that hung up over Rue.
"When what?" Thorin wondered gruffly.
Rue shrugged limply. "It doesn't matter―so did the―assassin―sneak up on you? How did it happen?"
"Answer me first."
She nodded slowly, awkwardly realizing her hand was still on his shoulder. "So―sorry." Rue pulled her hand away, feeling like one big idiot. "I was just going to say that it's obvious he has something against Dwarves, so…you were always his target. I just can't help feeling like I led you in this mess because I did."
Thorin was staring at her for several long, tense moments. Flashes of remorse were in his eyes.
"I told you already, Miss Rue, what that Man does is not your blame to take. It is his," he growled. "The assassin had been following me for days, thinking I had no indication he was there, which I did. He confronted me and we battled." Thorin's gaze seemed lost, misunderstood. He cast a glimpse at the cave entrance, as if begging for Gimli's return.
Rue gulped, overcome by too many damn emotions. Desperately, she wanted to know if Thorin was going to be okay, if what Gimli had said about Dwarves was really true. Before she could think better of it, she outstretched a hand toward his leg. She gave a little gasp of fright, luckily realizing what she had been about to do. Touching Thorin while his trousers were pulled halfway down? Big no-no. Rue jerked her hand backwards, not daring to stare at Thorin now.
"Sorry again," she muttered apologetically. "For everything."
Tense silence shrouded the cave. Rue stared at the fire, wondering where―where the assassin was now. Oh, gosh. Suddenly, her cheeks felt ice-cold.
"Thorin―is that Man―is he?" she blinked back tears, shaking her head. Rue couldn't even form the question correctly. It was just…terrifying to think that Thorin had almost been killed, that he probably had to―
"Yes." His voice was scary grave, yet poignant in some weird way. Rue realized seconds later that she heard regret, remorse. His "yes" was plagued by anguish he desperately tried to hide.
Rue gently sent her fists thudding against her thighs to calm herself. It was weird, but she didn't care. All she could think about was the sick realization that Thorin had to murder and the realization she would probably never get to clap her hands during music theory class ever again. The whole fists-punching-her-thighs-thing made her remember her music major classes. But that world seemed like an entirely different life now. In this world, Thorin Oakenshield―a Dwarf king, a fearless man of great honor―was in deep shit.
She gazed at him, the intensity in his eyes daunting. His face was twisted in some painful grimace as he stared at the cave wall, unblinking, as if remembering what had happened. And then his eyes froze on hers. Rue squirmed uncomfortably, eyes dropping to the floor.
"You're so determined that even a wound won't stop you," she whispered in awe. "It's―I bet you can do anything you put your mind to."
Thorin was silent. His silence was either a good thing or bad thing. She guessed the latter.
Rue forced herself to look at him. He was staring at her blanket, opening his mouth.
"T―" Thorin started gruffly, cutting off suddenly. He began again, giving Rue a once over, "The blanket is useful. I―" His voice was a whisper, well at least as much as a whisper it could be― "Am grateful."
Rue was stunned, blinking. What?
She grinned. "You can have it if you want. You know, Kili really liked it. He thought Tigger was pretty cool." Rue exhaled softly, her long curly bangs blowing out her eyes, not thinking as she spoke, "I really hope Kili and Fili have some warm blankets on the way to the Shire." Word vomit. Rue covered her mouth, jaw hung open. That wasn't supposed to come out.
Just then, Gimli sauntered into the cave, numerous plants and weird herbs bundled in his arms. It was clear by the way Gimli hesitated by the entrance, that he could sense the rage screaming off Thorin.
Thorin growled, sounding like a tiger that had finally escaped its cage, "What?"
Crap.
Actually, telling Thorin how Kili and Fili had left in the middle of the night for the Shire―without Dis's or Thorin's permission―hadn't been that bad. Sure, Thorin had tossed a piece of wood into the fire like he probably thought it was Naji and yelled for a few minutes about the irresponsibility of his nephews. Other than that, everything was going smooth sailing, at least as much as it could with Thorin's stubbornness. He refused to ride the pony for more than three hours at a time, forcing himself to walk as if to prove something. Rue didn't think he had anything to prove. He was strong-willed, capable, and intelligent. Thorin had built a new home for his scattered people, something that was so freaking incredible. He didn't need to prove anything to anyone.
One week later, they were past the Blue Mountains, making way for the Shire. Gimli was in a good mood since he had made a great counterpoint to Thorin's insistencies of, "Return home, Dwarfling." Gimli had said something along the lines of, "With due respect, King, you are still recovering, but there is a chick here who obviously knows jack-shit about surviving in the Wild. What if something happens? I'm needed here. I wouldn't have my honor and stuff if I left my King and a chick all alone." Well debated, Gimli.
Thickets of trees surrounded them, lush, unrelenting forest. Rue was riding on the pony, since Gimli and Thorin had cornered her into riding it. Dis had been right when she said Dwarf men were gentlemen; even Big Bad King Under the Mountain was.
Thorin was walking with a slight limp, his limp hardly noticeable. Yesterday, when Gimli had checked on Thorin's wound, it had finally become a scab. In Gimli's excitement and exclamations proclaiming, "I healed the Dwarf King," he had almost hugged Thorin. Luckily, he had realized who the hell he was about to hug and had stopped himself.
"Gims," Rue called, "you wanna ride?" She felt bad they were walking while her butt was on the pony. If anyone needed to do any walking, it was her.
"No, lass, Dwarf men do not tire easy." Gimli puffed his chest out. "We are strong, endure what Men cannot, and are fighters!" He started pumping his axe around like a little kid waving their video game controller around. More than ever, Rue could tell he was just a Dwarfling. Guilt ate her heart. Had she really been selfish enough to take Gimli to Ered Luin? But what if―what if she had refused to go? Would he have headed to the Shire all by himself? What if something had happened to him? So many "what ifs."
All these convoluted thoughts were interrupted as Thorin held up his hand. He was a little ways ahead of her and Gimli. That gesture meant stop, the Middle-earth version of a stop sign. She halted the pony all by herself, which was a big feat for a herp derp like her.
He peered over his shoulder; face a mask of utter seriousness. "Wait here while I scout ahead. There is something not right." He trudged ahead, his footsteps suddenly stealthier. Thorin turned one last time, locking eyes with her briefly, and then uttering to Gimli, "Keep guard."
He was then off, somehow quiet despite his slight limp. Thorin skirted past a plethora of trees, out of sight within minutes. Rue felt uneasy on a pony, vulnerable since she barely knew how to ride one. With an awkward snort, she slid off the pony, stumbling a bit. She grinned. Rue was off! And she hadn't gotten injured.
Gimli turned to her, hands clenching on his axe. "I do not like the silence."
Rue closed the distance between them, standing by his side. Hastily, Gimli's hand slid into his pack. Seconds later, he whipped out a dagger. His eyes were big as he scanned the forest around. Sure, Rue was no Mother Nature expert, but she knew woods bathed in silence usually meant the death eaters or the antichrist was coming.
Gimli handed her the dagger. "For you."
She blinked in surprise, beaming as she grabbed the slight dagger. "Really? For me? Don't you think I'm like gonna poke my own eye out or something?" The dagger gleamed underneath the afternoon light; curved inwards at the end, reminding Rue of a fancier version of shanks Stockton gangsters tended to carry around.
"I will admit that you are dim at times," Gimli said grumpily, "but you have had enough sense not to―" His eyes traveled to the path Thorin had taken, his voice a whisper now― "Bring up the meeting in Ered Luin."
Rue nodded. "I was scared you were gonna bring it up. Yeah, uh, I have a feelingit didn't go well."
Gimli chuckled, seeming more relaxed than he had been seconds ago. "Are you saying I have a bigmouth?" Yeah.
In a flash, the laughter faded from Gimli's eyes. His body was erect in anticipation, eyes fearful.
"Did you hear that?"
Suddenly, from the tree on Gimli's left, something leapt at him, wielding a sword. Its skin was grimy―brown―mouth looking split-open, pointed ears mangled. Rue gasped, shocked as hell as the creature tackled Gimli down. She reacted instinctively, bending down to pick up a rock. With the world's crappiest throw, she tossed the rock. The rock struck the creature―wait, no, it was an Orc―on the back. It jerked away from Gimli. Gimli was on his back, luckily unharmed, but pissed the hell off.
"Oh, you mangy Orc, wait until I get up!" Gimli groused, trying to get back up, reaching for his axe that had fallen out his grip.
Rue started backwards, swallowing hard. No. Not Gimli.
The Orc took one-step forward, pointing the tip of its sword at her. Its mouth opened, mangled words coming out as it asked, "Where is the Dwarf-scum?" Dwarf-scum? What Dwarf? She knew Thorin, Gimli, Fili, Kili, Dis, and the Ri brothers―
Rue thought on her toes for once, throwing her backpack aside. The Orc stepped backwards defensively, tilting its head curiously.
"You're…you're talking about Thorin, aren't you?" Rue squeaked in shit-face terror.
And then the Orc smiled, which was the creepiest thing she'd seen since the ghost that haunted her room in the Prancing Pony.
"You know who I speak of." Huh? She had only been trying to make up a story as she went along.
Rue gave a jerky nod, spinning on her heels, hoping that all the running she had done for fun after high school would pay off, hoping that this impulsive plan would work.
She screamed deafeningly, "Thorin!" The yell seemed to break something in the air. The Orc ran for her, swinging its sword. Rue turned left, the blade missing her by a few inches, sprinting in the complete opposite direction Thorin had taken off. She glimpsed over her shoulder, making sure the Orc was following her. It was. Good. It wouldn't get Gimli then.
Her heart was beating like an insane drumbeat, everything around her coming into focus. Rue ran hard, remembering to breathe correctly so she wouldn't get a stitch in her side. Her footsteps were uncharacteristically meticulous, something that always happened when she ran. Walking was a different story. Always when she ran, Rue underwent this weird transformation. Running made her careful, alert, and clear-headed.
She passed several shrubs, casting another glimpse over her shoulder. The Orc was on her trail, at least six-feet behind, gaining fast. Rue kept running hard, the instinct for self-preservation trying to battle her "how to run a track-meet" instincts. She knew she could go for five minutes if she absolutely had to before a break. Rue was positive she could tire out the Orc.
Twisting past several trees, Rue hopped over one high tree root, heart pumping furiously. Forcing her mouth to stay shut, forcing the urge to scream away, she continued on. Up ahead, she saw a smallish clearing, a gauntlet of trees forming a circle around it.
Rue stole a glance over her shoulder, relief flooding through her when she saw the Orc was falling behind. Her hand was squeezed around the dagger's hilt for dear life, knuckles turning white. Oh, gosh. What if the Orc had figured out she was just playing distraction?
Rue cried, "THORIN!" Oh, God, she was freaking beyond terrified, goose bumps riddling every inch of her body. She was going to die. Yep, this was going to be the end of her. But maybe―maybe she could lead the Orc on some kind of goose chase before it killed her. Maybe she could give Thorin and Gimli the chance to escape.
The fear made her open her mouth, which made her breathing ragged. Rue shot a look over her shoulder again. She skidded to a halt, frightened pulses of liquid-fire icing her body. Her blood ran cold. Oh, crap.
The Orc was gone.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she took in the sight around her. She was in the clearing, the circle of trees encasing her. Rue felt small, and then big. Small and big. Trembling from head to toe, gasping like a fish, Rue was scared shitless.
She twirled around; too scared to stand still, to have her back turned on any―
A loud oomph rang throughout the air as her world turned upside down, body slamming into the bed of pine needles as a great force speared her. Rue was on her side, and then forced on her back as the Orc clambered on top of her. They were grappling, Rue swinging her legs around wildly, upending her dagger so the knifepoint was inches from the Orc's face.
The Orc brought the sword's blade to her neck. Rue's eyes doubled in size. Everything was in slow motion as she felt the blade centimeters from her neck. The Orc held the sword in place. It breathed in her face, darks eyes buzzing in excitement.
"Where is the Dwarf King?" The Orc asked gutturally.
Rue shook her head. No. She couldn't do that to Thorin, not even to save her own ass. She―she would make up a story.
"He's―he's gone because he met a friend out here," Rue squeaked, the words sounding like complete bull to her own ears. Her chest heaved up and down, breaths shallow.
The Orc grimaced, "Then why were you calling for his name, She-Dwarf? I have not seen one in twenty years." She-Dwarf?
Suddenly, it was like a light switch had been turned on in Rue's head. It was time to fight and go Stockton, or get killed. Before she could even think about what she was doing, Rue yelled like a banshee, sending her dagger plunging against the Orc's cheek. It screamed, stumbling off her, on its knees as it bellowed in pain.
Seconds later, the Orc slammed its blade down. Rue rolled out the way, climbing to her feet, gripping her dagger. The Orc was up on its feet, too, snarling in disgust, black blood oozing from its cheek.
Rue lunged forward, fleetingly remembering all the fights she had seen on the streets and at Edison High School. The best advice was to go ballistic. Rue tried to cut the Orc's sword hand, her other hand balling in a fist. She banged the Orc in the skull with her fist, punching it while struggling to hold it in place with her dagger. Again and again, she kept punching.
It sent its sword whirling forward, Rue jumping backwards. She didn't see the upheaval tree root behind her, tripping, landing on her butt. Desperately, she went to get back up, scooting backwards as the Orc crept forward.
A sudden twinge of pain stabbed her scalp. Out of the corner of her eye, Rue saw her freaking hair was caught in a bush. Of course, her hair would be the death of her.
"Let's see what your husband thinks when I chop off your precious Dwarven hair and send it to him in pieces with your defiled body," the Orc hissed.
Rue held out her dagger. Thorns pricked her free fingers as she tried to untangle her hair.
One second, the Orc was grinning in sick anticipation, the next, a blur of fur crashed against the Orc. Rue saw a flash of silver―a sword penetrate the Orc in the gut. Tears leaked out her eyes. It was Thorin, his shoulders tense, eyes clouted in fear as the Orc fell back down, its mouth opening and closing while it was on the brink of death.
Thorin closed the distance between them quick, warily taking a glimpse over his shoulder every other second. He knelt in front of Rue, rough Dwarven hands helping untangle her hair from the thorny bush. Rue was shaking all over, legs twitching. Thorin's eyes were blue fire, his fingers brushing against hers in her attempt to unravel her crazy hair.
Rue spoke up, voice splintering, "It―it thought―I was a She-Dwarf." She-Dwarf came out high-pitched. Thorin's hands pulled away, her hair finally free from the bush-attack. Thorin then grabbed her shoulder, the feel of his hand taut.
"Are you hurt?" he asked loudly, unnerved, eyes almost bugging out.
"I'm okay, what about you?"
Crash, crash, thump. Thorin was up on his feet, sword raised as he stood in front of Rue, thick legs blocking almost everything in sight, but not enough. Rue saw Gimli come into the clearing, axe-blade drenched in black blood. His face was ghost white.
"Is the lass all right?" Gimli sputtered. "Another Orc attacked me or I would have come sooner."
"I'm fine," Rue squeaked, trying to gain the courage to stand up.
Thorin marched to the dying Orc inches away, placing the tip of his sword on its neck. His face was contorted in rage―in sickening horror.
"Who led you?" Thorin growled, long black hair billowing softly, a complete contrast to his penetrating gaze. It was like he was trying to stab the Orc with his eyes.
The Orc said three last words before dying.
"Azog the Defiler."
Author's Note: Oh, yes, I went there! Thorin is finding out about Azog before the quest. Hope you lovely readers review, favorite, or follow. I would love to hear your opinion and thoughts on the story so far. Hope I didn't make Gimli OOC. I just thought a younger Gimli would be awestruck by Thorin haha.
Guest: Thanks for taking the time to review twice :) Glad you're enjoying my chapters. I'm enjoying writing them. Now I sound egocentric. Sorry :) Thanks again.