Author's Note: Did you guys see the exclusive sneak-peak for DOS? After I watched it, I kind of felt like I had just run a mile. Seriously, it was awesome! I wanted to give two shout-outs to two of my readers: SwanInProgress and jorja85. SwanInProgress made fanart of Rue! I am so freaking ecstatic. Thanks jorja85 for PMing me to say you've enjoyed "Heroes." It means so much! Thank you DwarvenWarrior, SwanInProgress, jaoosa2, house of the falling sun, UKReader, and Just4Me for reviewing. Also thanks for the favorites and follows.
Disclaimer: I don't own "In Bloom" by Nirvana.
Chapter Ten: In Bloom
"He charged after the pale Orc," Balin said mournfully, seeming achingly lost. "Frerin was beyond a reasonable mind. Never before, had anyone seen him so wrathful, for he was more like Dwalin and Kili in spirit, capable of feeling joy, of feeling laughter. He could never truly hate. Frerin brought Azog the Defiler to his knees. That was when―" Balin stopped, swallowing hard― "Bolg had seen his own father fast approaching his death bed. He stabbed Frerin in the back with an axe. Before more damage could befall the youngest prince, Dwalin had killed Bolg."
Rue was wide-eyed, teeth involuntarily chattering from the whispers of wind shooting up her arms. Or was it from the heart wrenching story Balin told? Kili was staring at his legs in horror, mouth parted. Fili was gazing at Thorin in unapologetic admiration.
"I then saw him," Balin began with unmatched pride, casting a glimpse at Thorin. "A Dwarf prince stood against a terrible foe after having seen the death of his grandfather―and brother. His armor was rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield." Huh. NowOakenshield made sense. It was kind of like…his superhero name. Rue was shivering from head to toe, trying to take inconspicuous glances at Thorin. If Azog looked anything like that one Orc from the second Lord of the Rings movie―the one that went all kamikaze and blew up some of the army of Elves and Men―then Thorin was officially the baddest Dwarf on planet earth―or Middle-earth.
Balin nodded, thin lips suddenly pale in the glow of the firelight. "Azog the Defiler beheaded King Thror, and Thorin―" He ventured a rapt glance at Thorin, his eyes resembling smothering coals in the night― "Saw it out that the Pale Orc was less a limb after meeting him."
It felt like Rue's stomach had dropped out from underneath her feet as she watched Thorin's too rigid shoulders, his weather-beaten form. Had he heard everything Balin had just said? Should she cover her ears and respect Thorin's privacy by refusing to listen to a part of his past he had never told her himself? Rue was pretty sure Thorin had never intended to bring up the story of Azog to her or Gimli.
Balin explained that the line of Durin would not be broken. Rue and Gimli locked eyes just as Balin said the Orcs had been defeated, but not without loss. The death count was beyond grief. Only a few of the Dwarves had survived. Rue fanned herself, tears stinging her eyes. None of this was fair to the Dwarves. They were so loyal, brave, and truly comfortable in their own skin. But the world always worked out that way, didn't it? The proof―Thorin, who had fought so hard all his life just to exist. And the battle had happened because King Thror had thought there was gold in Moria? Right now, Rue hated gold.
Gimli's eyes were big while he gawked at Thorin in awe. Nori tried not to look so wowed by Thorin, but his open-mouth betrayed him.
Balin nearly beamed with pride, the world becoming more colorful by the second despite the glaring wrong in this story―Azog was supposed to be dead. "And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King." Damn straight.
At once, this wave of deference washed over the Dwarves, washed over Rue. They all stood as one, gazing at Thorin. No doubt in Rue's mind the story Balin had just told, had earned Thorin more than he could have ever bargained for from an army from the Iron Hills.
He slowly turned; eyes bathed in emotion beneath the moonlight, his vulnerability doing all kinds of things to Rue's heart. And then he schooled his expression, lowering his head, glaring with the utmost bitterness and hatred. Thorin trudged forward, pissed the hell off because the job of "killing" Azog the Defiler had never been truly complete. The dude had beheaded Thorin's grandfather. Thorin had thought―thought he would never have to see the hideous monster again. But Gandalf had told him otherwise. It was as if Thorin thought his superhero name, Oakenshield, was nothing more than a mirthless joke. Rue shook her head. Thorin was no joke: he was a true king.
Gandalf raised his wise, wary eyes to meet Thorin's through the writhing smoke from the fire. The Dwarves parted ways for Thorin to pass through, his hands behind his back, lips curled in a snarl. He seemed humiliated, and ready to punch whoever in the face if they dared say anything mildly offensive.
Bilbo's jaw was agape. Moments later, he pointed a jerky thumb Thorin's way, completely horrorstruck. "But―but Gandalf said the Pale Orc is not dead."
Balin sighed, "That remains to be seen."
"He is dead," Thorin growled heatedly, glaring daggers at Mr. Hobbitkins. "It is nothing more than a ghost, Balin." Oh, no, Bilbo had just made himself Thorin's number one target, beating out that Elf, Thranduil.
Rue squeaked quietly, stepping behind Gimli and ducking, hoping no one had noticed her squeak.
There was a pang of hopelessness and hope. There was good and bad. That day, Thorin had become Thorin Oakenshield, had been his people's last hope in the bleakest of times. Azog was supposedly a zombie, King Thror was dead, Thorin's dad was missing, and Frerin―Thorin's brother, Rue never even knew he had a brother until now―was dead, too.
Thorin stomped away grudgingly, heading to a more secluded spot on the rocky ledge. Dwalin took a step-forward like he wanted nothing more than to help his best friend, but thought better of it.
"Brilliant," Rue whispered to herself, blushing when Nori smirked at her. She spoke a little louder, "He's really brilliant. No one cares if he didn't kill Azog that day―because―because what he did was amazing." Regretfully, she covered her mouth, turning scarlet. What had she just said?
"Aye," Dwalin grunted.
A collection of "Ayes" spread like wildfire. Rue was surprised none of the Dwarves had told her, "Shut the hell up, human." No. Instead, they seemed to agree completely with what she had said.
As Rue's legs shook beneath her, her heart beating like a war drum, goose bumps prickling her flesh, and cheeks brilliant red, she realized one scary thing: she liked Thorin, liked him a lot.
Oh, crap. The quest had just turned into a soap opera from her end.
Days later, Rue's little curious case of "I've got it bad for King Under the Mountain" hadn't lightened up in the slightest. She loved looking at him, loved watching him like some creeper. His hair was majestically glorious―okay, that sounded lame. His eyes were beautiful, he was handsome, and everything about him was just so darn fascinating. Really, Rue had been this close to convincing herself that everything she felt for Thorin was in appreciation for all the help he'd given her. Yesterday, while they had been riding in the rain, she had almost believed herself. Gosh, she wanted these feelings―wait, nope. What feelings? All she felt was admiration and respect for Thorin. Nothing more. Yeah, right.
They were riding through a road called the Great East Road, an explosion of green all around. Everything was electrifyingly green: the trees, long grass, and bushes.
In the distance, there was a torn-up structure that might have been a house before something like Grawp sat on it. Rue blinked, patting Simba's head.
"Good boy. Good boy," she murmured.
Nori snorted from beside her. "Your pony is not a dog. I think I know who would appreciate a nice pat." He winked. "Why don't you go see what Thorin is doing?"
Rue turned scarlet, hating that Nori was so darn perceptive. Damn him. But―but she didn't really like Thorin that way, did she?
She started nervously, "Why would I do that when uh―uh―" Rue stole a glance ahead at Thorin, who was giving out orders and deciding this was where they would set-up camp for the night― "He's busy."
Nori shook his head, grinning wryly.
When Rue noticed all the Dwarves getting off their ponies, she saw this as a cue to get her butt off Simba. It was becoming easier each passing day, riding a pony and all. Before she knew it, she would be ready to be a cowboy. With itchy legs, she swung her legs over the horse, landing with a slight stumble. Hey, but she was fine. Warily, Rue looked around, searching for bees. Lately, they had been coming out more like cockroaches or something. It must've been the season. Fili had told her it was summer and summer was bees' Woodstock time. Why the hell did she have to be stuck in Middle-earth now? She was allergic to bees and deathly terrified of them. Rue didn't need to start screaming like a banshee if she saw a hive, and for Thorin to look at her like she was truly a moron.
Gloin was talking smack like always.
"It is clear what has destroyed the house," he grunted to Gimli, frowning. Oin was next to the both of them, pressing his ear trumpet closer to Gloin's mouth. Bifur stood across from them, cocking his head to the side curiously. Oin started making signs with his hands―in some Dwarf language they used to communicate in the forge. That was what Rue had been told by Gimli when she asked if they knew sign language.
Dori stomped over to Ori grumpily; double-checking his younger brother was wearing his cardigan gloves. Out of the corner of Rue's eye, she saw Nori throw his head back and laugh.
Rue left Simba toward the back of the company, knowing the pony was too lazy to run off. She skirted past several pony booties and Dwarf bodies, winding a path closer to the front so she would at least know exactly what was going on. Maybe Thorin didn't want to believe Azog had gone all zombie―she couldn't blame him for not wanting to believe it―but that didn't mean she didn't believe. Usually, crazy shit went down, especially in Middle-earth. So Rue kind of was hoping they would keep going, until sunset at least.
She stood next to Bofur, catching sight of Thorin and Gandalf in the wrecked house, weeds and tangles of out-of-control grass slithering around the house's broken frame. They were facing each other, looking to be butting heads over something.
From Rue's other side, Bilbo piped up, "Oh, goodness, no. This is exactly what we need." Well said, Mr. Hobbitkins.
Gandalf and Thorin's conversation grew louder, bits and pieces audible. Rue swore she heard something about Thorin not wanting to actually go inside the Hidden Valley. She guessed they were doing a drive-by pony ride with her. Drop her off, and then gallop away as fast as they could. The possibility of a drive-by pony ride hurt her feelings.
Gandalf said, "Elves," and then continued, too quiet for Rue to make out the rest of his sentence. Not Elves. That was one thing Rue had quickly picked up on from living in the Blue Mountains. Dwarves hated Elves. Days ago, Nori had explained how some Elf King, Thranduil, had turned his back on Erebor when it was burning down, refusing to aide them even though they had an alliance. The Mirkwood―that definitely sounded like a spooky place―Elves had done nothing.
From afar, Rue watched carefully, heartstrings tightening as Thorin gazed at his boots one moment before bringing his eyes to steady on Gandalf's again. She could tell he was feeling a vortex of emotions.
And then she heard him say resentfully, "You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father."
For a second, Rue thought the argument was defused as Gandalf said, "You are neither of them."
Thorin didn't take offense to this, and these were the right words to say, but then―
"I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past," Gandalf snapped.
Thorin shot the Dumbledore wannabe―he was only a Dumbledore wannabe for now since he hadn't given much thought to Thorin's feelings―a glare. "I did not know that they were yours to keep." Good point.
Stubbornly, his hands were on his sides as he puffed out his chest. Rue could tell Gandalf was done. He turned around, stomping away, his staff thudding against the ground loudly. Uh, should she try to talk to Gandalf to stop the diva meltdown?
"Where are you going?" Bilbo asked, all wide-eyed in horror. She didn't blame him. Gandalf was his round trip ticket on this quest like Thorin was Rue's ticket. It was understandable why he was freaking out. If Thorin went to actually leave, leave, she might have been hyperventilating.
Gandalf got all sassy, saying he was seeking the company of the only one with Sheldon Cooper brains. Something like that.
Bilbo took the bait, asking all innocently, "Who's that?"
"Myself, Mr. Baggins!" Cocky much?
Minutes later, Gandalf was out of sight, gone. None of the Dwarves said much about Gandalf; particularly, Rue noted how Balin kept giving Thorin a pointed look, as if trying to convey a simple message: "I told you not to get 'tude with the Wizard. Now what?"
Thorin started complaining about how they were hungry, and then told Bombur to cook. At least one good thing would come out of setting-up camp early: Rue was going to be Bombur's food taster three hours earlier than most days.
Gandalf and Thorin's words were on rewind in Rue's head for pretty much the rest of the night. She kept reflecting on Gandalf's word choices, realizing maybe things might've gone different if he hadn't been so brazen.
Bombur held out his ladle to Rue after his fifth stir. She leaned forward, grinning from ear to ear. Food excited her. A lot. Damn, she was lame.
"I added a special seasoning," he said, anxiously waiting for Rue's reaction. She brought her lips to the ladle, waiting for the moment the Dwarves would proclaim they didn't want a human's lips all over the spoon that would be serving their food, but the moment never came. Rue slurped up the stew, the food making her mouth say, "Oh, yeah."
"Mmm! Om nom nom." She nodded, using some dumb word choices. Really, if the company had been raised in her world, they would probably think she was the lamest thing ever and would never be caught dead with her in public.
Bombur cocked an eyebrow. "Is om nom good? What is om nom nom?"
Rue chuckled. "Yep, nom nom. And it means it's tasty. Sorry, words from my world."
Bombur murmured to himself, "Om nom nom nom."
"I think it's ready serve."
He nodded. "Thank you for the help, Miss Rue." Bombur lifted up two bowls, pouring stew inside them.
"Any opportunity I get to try free food, I'm a happy camper." A lopsided grin spread across her lips.
Bombur seemed confused by "happy camper," but was polite enough not to make Rue elaborate.
With a hop in her gait, she left the cauldron―okay, Rue couldn't help but think of Professor Snape and potions class. She wandered through camp, looking for something useful to do. Standing by the nearest tree line was Nori, Dori, Ori, Gloin, and Gimli, all of them howling in laughter about some She-Dwarf joke. Eh? Probably dirty jokes. Tsk tsk.
Bofur was now standing by Bombur, telling him something about how he had already eaten enough of the stew. Bilbo was over there, too, pointy ears red in the sudden draft of coldness as he scanned the campsite in worry. He asked about Gandalf for the millionth time since the Wizard had decided to go AWOL.
Determinedly, she decided to go collect kindling. All right, she wouldn't go that far since there was a ninety percent chance she would get lost. Rue warily neared the thicket of lush woods, winding past trees. She snuck a glimpse over her shoulder, biting her lip, having this sudden wash of anxiety. Maybe she should tell someone where she was going?
Rue swallowed hard, continuing into the woods anyway. Her eyes fell on the ground in search of sticks, twigs, and bark―anything that would qualify as kindling. For a few minutes, Rue kept bending down every ten seconds or so, collecting more and more kindling. It was official; her superhero name was Miss Kindling the Incredible. Her arms were full of kindling while she bent down one last time to make a grab for a particularly dry looking piece of wood.
Without warning, darkness―a shadow―clouded the ground inches in front of her. Rue stumbled back, gasping in terror, heart racing a million beats per minute. Oh, crap. Her gaze flew up from the ground to what was in front of her―
It was Thorin. The piece of wood she had been going for was clenched in his strong hand, his expression livid. Oh, no. Rue hadn't been trying to piss him off, especially after today and after Balin had told the entire story of Azog the Defiler and how Thorin had been the last hope of his people, wielding his oaken branch.
"What are you doing?" he growled, stepping closer.
Rue gulped, crying out hysterically, "I was only trying to get some kindling! I'm sorry!" Pathetically, she added, "Please don't be mad at me?"
Thorin shook his head, walking until he stood inches in front of her. With a nearly inaudible sigh, he reached forward, taking the kindling out of Rue's arms. What a…gentleman?
She blinked in surprise. "Thank you."
He glared. "You should not be walking around the woods by yourself. It is dangerous for a woman, especially if―" Thorin stopped talking, becoming defensive as Rue practically gawked at him like some moron― "What are you staring at?"
"Nothing," she murmured timidly. "I just really am sorry." Sheepishly, her eyes fell to the earth. She was sorry for so many other unsaid things: for everything that had happened to Thorin, for the possibility that Azog might be running around alive, and for Naji. But if none of that had ever happened to Thorin, he wouldn't be the Dwarf she had grown to li―
"Then do not do it again," Thorin spoke gruffly. "Ask one of the Dwarves to accompany you." Darkly, he added, leaning closer. "Gandalf believes we are not alone." He gave her this pointed look. Rue stared at Thorin like a deer-caught-in-the-headlights, completely confused. What was that supposed to mean? Did he mean ghosts or the chupacabra? Or did he mean―
"You think he's still after you?" she whispered. Naji or Naji's assassins?
Thorin glared daggers. "Yesterday, Dwalin and I found someone else's tracks. Others use the Great East Road, so it is likely there were not his tracks, but Gandalf thinks it." Had they been arguing about that, too, earlier? Rue hadn't heard everything they had said. What would the company think? Rue knew they knew of Naji thanks to the gossipy Ri brothers, but she didn't want to imagine the rest of them in danger thanks to her dumbass.
Rue shook her head, muttering, "I'm sorry." She wanted to make Thorin feel better.
Awkwardly, Rue grabbed some of the kindling, saying, "Why don't you put that down and uh―" Her intention was to say maybe they could talk, but what came out instead was― "I, uh, heard from Gimli you know how to play the harp."
Stubbornly, Thorin gripped the kindling tighter. His eyebrows were furrowed now.
"What of it?" he barked defensively, as if expecting Rue to mock him.
"I love that you can play the harp," she squeaked. "Remember how I told you I was studying playing an instrument called the cello?"
"Yes, you told me of this during our last night before our arrival to the Blue Mountains."
He remembered what exact day she had told him this? Rue beamed, blushing like crazy, somersaults flipping around in her tummy.
Nervously, she explained, "Cellos are string instruments and harps are string instruments, so we play instruments from the same music group. Cellos―" Rue started making gestures with her hands to show him their size― "Are this big. They've got this hourglass shape, and have four strings in the front. We play them with bows, using them to strum across the strings. And we use our fingers to tune them. Uh―" She was crimson now― "I just thought I would paint you a picture of a cello. I did have a picture of my cello on my phone, but―" It felt like Rue had been kicked in the heart― "It died yesterday." She continued eagerly, "Anyway, that's why I think it's cool you play the harp. I actually understand the feeling of playing an instrument, of being a musician."
Bringing her hands together in front of her, Rue started twiddling her fingers nervously, scared shitless of Thorin's reaction. She gazed down at her boots.
"You should not stare at your feet all the time," Thorin said heatedly. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."
Rue was open-mouthed as she looked at Thorin, resisting the urge to gasp and squeal. His eyes never left hers, potent and piercing. But for once, Thorin wasn't staring at her with a million suspicions. Instead, his eyes were a bit softer, maybe even kinder.
Rue shrugged. "Sometimes, I just can't help it. Uh, I was wondering if I could ask you something?" Her hands shifted until they were behind her back, fingers latched together for dear life.
"Ask," Thorin said regally, puffing out his chest in spite of the kindling overloading his arms.
"What was Erebor like?" There. She said it. Her question was out in the open. Rue forced herself to stare at him. Again, Thorin's eyes softened. That was unusual.
His eyes were dreamy as he gazed past her, focusing on a point in the distance.
"It was unlike any other Dwarf kingdom. The halls were grand. Inside the mountain were rivers of gold and precious gems. We were a wealthy people. The homes and rooms were a beauty beyond imaginable. No Dwarf ever went without. My grandfather made Erebor beyond affluent. I cannot describe it in great detail because every word I use would never be enough to capture the great beauty that was Erebor. It was―" Thorin's gaze flickered down, eyes holding a million different feelings― "Home."
Seeing Thorin so emotional, so wistful when it came to the mention of Erebor pulled at Rue's heartstrings like nothing else.
She grinned softly. "Since you're a king, Thorin, you can continue your grandfather's tradition of making sure no Dwarves go without. I mean, you already have for your own people. But once you set a Dragon-trap for that pesk, Smaug, and reclaim Erebor, maybe you can help the homeless Dwarves."
For a second, she thought she had overstepped.
In the blink of an eye, Thorin was peering at her closely―and his lips were upturned in a…smile. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen, as lame as it sounded. Thorin deserved to smile; he deserved to find reasons to smile. He deserved happiness.
Awkwardly, Rue pointed behind her. "You wanna go back? I feel bad that you've been holding the kindling."
Thorin's smile dropped away. He jerked upwards like a puppet master had wilted their strings on him, as if Rue's words had brought him back from Erebor to the present.
"Yes," he grumbled.
Together, they walked side-by-side, making small conversation on their way out the woods. Rue giggled when she almost tripped over her own feet. Thorin's looks screamed, "That was stupid."
Minutes later, they reemerged in the campsite. There was way too much lightheartedness for Rue to believe things would simply stay honky dory. Thorin seemed a lot less grouchy. His face was passive, not its natural scowl.
They neared the cooking fire together, Thorin dumping the kindling.
Something wasn't right. Rue's eyes darted around the campsite. Three people were missing: Bilbo, Kili, and Fili. Oh, gosh, did Kili have another diva meltdown if Gimli teased him about not having a beard? Please no. They were supposed to be watching the ponies, weren't they?
"What is wrong?" Thorin asked, clearly able to read her uneasy expression. He stood taller, shooting glares at all the creepy areas surrounding the camp, as if trying to intimidate any nearby danger away with his killer leers. It was…adorable.
Rue pursed her lips. "I just―I have a weird feeling."
He nearly closed the distance between them, leaning closer to ask quietly, "What weird feeling?"
Her hands rubbed opposite forearms. "Uh, I don't know. Just―it feels like something isn't right."
Thorin watched her arms carefully. "Are you cold?"
"No, I just feel scared for some reason. I don't know," Rue confessed ambiguously. "It's weird, but usually I have good intuition."
"Stay by the fire, I will scout the area myself. Wear this. Humans are more susceptible to illnesses. A sick woman journeying under my leadership would make me no better than that Man." Thorin began to remove his coat. That Man was codename for Naji. Rue shook her head, ready to refuse Thorin's coat. He needed it. She was good in her flannel jacket and cloak.
From a little ways, Bofur asked, "Is something the matter?"
His question seemed to snatch the rest of the company's attention spans. They were all alert, no longer talking for the means of social kicks. Dwalin marched toward Thorin, taking out his axe. Did he sense the weirdness, too? Please let it be a ghost.
In a flash, Thorin mid-pausing while removing his coat, loud thunk, thunk, thumps resounded.
Rue took her dagger out of her cloak pocket, ready to face an Orc when―
Fili and Kili burst from the thicket of trees, both breathing hard.
Without stopping a beat, Fili began frantically, "Bilbo went to confront Trolls who stole our ponies. He needs us. Now."
Seconds later, the company was in uproar, trading weapons and picking up whatever was within reach that could pose as a makeshift weapon. She gripped the hilt of her dagger until her knuckles turned ghost white, frightened since she was imagining Harry Potter trolls. Those were humongous. Okay, but Bilbo needed them, so―
"You are not going," Thorin growled at her, tossing Rue his coat. "Stay here." His thick fingers coiled around her shoulders as he led Rue to sit on a log by the fire. He leaned closer, speaking for her ears only, "If there is a chance we do not return. Take a pony and―" Thorin started giving her directions on how to get to Rivendell, which meant he thought there was a possibility they might not be returning. Rue's heart was like timpani beats the entire time.
"All right," she squeaked. "But you will be back, right? 'Cause―" Rue choked, trying not to cry. Okay, she wasn't going to say it, but if they were not back in ten minutes, she was following their trail. Surely, fourteen Dwarves could create a path reminiscent of following elephants. None of them―except Thorin, Nori, Ori, and Fili―had feather light footsteps.
Kili grew impatient, kicking the ground. In one daring move, he hitched his sword upwards, sprinting like a madman in the direction him and Fili had come.
He yelled frantically, "Bilbo, we're coming!"
Fili rolled his eyes, running after Kili. Figures.
And then Thorin said one last thing to Rue:
"Do not follow, Rue."
He spun around, racing after Kili and Fili, the trumpet of countless more footsteps following him. Gimli was grinning from ear to ear, his axe at the ready. Well, somebody certainly seemed to like that Mr. Hobbitkins was in a pickle so he could play knight in shining armor. Awe, Gims.
Rue hugged her knees, the sudden silence pounding against her ears. The only good thing to have come of this was that Thorin had called her Rue. Not Miss Rue or Ruby. Just Rue. Other than that, she was a mess. Staying here, being sick with worry, sucked hippogriff ass.
Why had they let Gimli go? So what if Dwarves were battle-ready and ready to work after they turned thirty. Gimli was too young in Rue's humble opinion.
She covered her legs with Thorin's coat, breathing in his scent like a stalker.
The fire burning in front of her became nothing more than a mirage. A mirage because this felt unreal. The possibility that the company might―might die made Rue nearly double over.
With trembling fingers, she picked up a piece of kindling, and tossed it in the flames―
A pair of hands gripped her forearms roughly, jerking her backwards. The cool point of a blade pressed against her neck. Rue froze, breathing hard, wondering how the hell someone had snuck up on her and got her at knifepoint. Please let it be a cruel joke from Nori? But Nori had left with the others…
"Hello, Ruby," a familiar voice hissed in her ear. Naji. Gandalf had been right.
Slowly, he dragged her to her feet, still behind her, laughing boisterously. Fear made her dizzy, made her knees weak. Oh, shit.
"So now you even wear his coat."
"What are you―you doing here?" she squeaked, lips quivering.
"We are playing a game, are we not?" His forearm tightened around her throat, making Rue choke and gasp for air. "You see, Ruby, there is a certain Orc who has given word of a quest, speaking of how Thorin wishes to reclaim his homeland." He snorted. "And now I see it is true. I am going to make three atrocious Trolls a trade they will not refuse."
"Just―just leave him alone," Rue pleaded, craftily slipping her dagger underneath her cloak's sleeve. Her dagger was her only chance to make sure the Dwarves were okay. Rue trembled from head to toe, her brain becoming foggy. There was a fire going, the woods beyond, and Naji behind her. How had it happened? She felt like she was going to vomit Bombur's delicious soup.
Naji ignored her as he said haughtily, "I will be trading you in exchange for King Under the Mountain."
What?
Author's Note: So it turns out that Naji does have it bad for Thorin. Please review, my peeps, and let me know how I'm doing with the story so far. You can follow me on tumblr at pearlprimrose and read snippets from Thorin's POV from each chapter. SwanInProgress has made fanart of Rue and it is up on my tumblr if anyone wants to see Rue come to life :) It was so, so awesome of SwanInProgress to do so! Maybe I can update next Friday again?