Chapter Three~Rough Travel
Just as promised, they were up and on the way by the time the sun was cresting the horizon. Rina's dog, Samora trotted along on a leash, helping to guide her human over the rocky terrain. They spent all day walking south, the mountain range to the left of them. It was warm, Rina could feel the sunshine beating down on her. She wore dark brown pants, and a light cotton shirt, with a vest of dark green. Her waist was adorned with a wide belt, a pouch on her hip, and on her pack hung her most prized possession...her guitar. The years had polished it smooth, and the strings were shiny where her fingers plucked. She had a long polished walking stick that she had learned how to use over the years in Rivendell. When they finally stopped to eat lunch, they had put a good distance between them.
It went like this for several days. Marina would wake up early, go to the creek they were following at the base of the mountain and wash herself as best she could so close to the men. Wiping a rag over her face and hands, then emptying her bladder quickly before making her way back to the others. Things went on around her, the men joked and laughed and planned. The Hobbits mostly kept to themselves, though they slowly began opening up to the others. One morning, a few days after leaving, two of them, Merry and Pippin plopped down on either side of her while she sat there petting Samora's head. It startled her. They were immediately talking in loud, boisterous tones that had her turning her head, trying to keep up with the conversation. It might have been something to do with a bar near their home.
"Lads, you best leave the lady be. She ain't got not interest in your tall tales from the Green Dragon." It was Sam. If she had to guess, he probably had his hands on his hips like an old matron.
"It's alright. It was interesting, just...a little difficult to keep up." She shrugged. By that time, the other two had left to bother someone else. "They are quite energetic, aren't they."
"Like trying to herd squirrels, those two. Never rightly introduced myself, miss. I'm Samwise Gamgee. You can call me Sam." She felt the air stir before her face.
"Marina of Harad, you can call me Rina. This is Somara, my constant companion for these last long years." Holding up her hand, he took it and shook gently. His hands were rough, presumably from years of working as a gardener.
"Pleased to meet you, Miss Rina. If you don't mind my askin'...why was you in Rivendell? I only mean, you ain't an Elf."
"Lord Elrond took me in as his ward when I was eight years old. I would have gone back when he realized he couldn't heal me of my blindness, but by then, my father had passed from sickness." She smiled at him softly, completely unaware that the rest of the Fellowship had stopped to listen to her story. Obviously, Gandalf, Legolas, and Aragorn already knew this tale, but they still listened. "Mother had died the same day I became blind, so I had no reason to return to Harad."
"So, then you're a right proper lady?"
Rina chuckled, "I supposed."
Boromir spoke then. "If you are a high born lady, why are you not in your homeland with your husband?"
"I'm not married."
"I think that's quite obvious, Rina." Aragorn laughed. "I doubt any man could hold you long enough to get you to the alter."
Throwing a rock in his direction, she made a face, "You make me sound like a harlot."
"Not at all, dear little friend," Legolas placed a hand on her shoulder, offering her some lembas bread. "Simply that you are as fiery as that hair of yours. Eat."
"I only meant, why do you not have a husband by now? Most young women of your age are married and born children by now."
Again, she shrugged. "I haven't met many men. And those that I have met, I have no interest in...especially those that only think that all a woman is good for is child-rearing." She tapped her stick against the rock she sat on. "If a woman can go through childbirth, survive to tell the tale, and then go back to do it again, then are they not just as much a warrior as a man who rides into battle screaming and waving a sword?" Taking another bite of the filling bread, she listened to some of them muttering in agreement, and some grumbling.
"Aye, the lass is right." Gimli thumped her hard between the shoulders, causing her to choke on the food. He gave her a few more to clear her throat. "Dwarf women fight just as hard and strong as the men in battle, just as the men fight just as hard with raising the bairns. Well said, lassy. You would fit well in the halls of Moria. My kin would welcome you. You've even got the hair for it, if not the beard."
"The beard?"
"Aye, Dwarf women are born with beards, same as men. Sometimes they're even mistaken for Dwarf men."
She sat for a moment. "May I feel your face, Gimli?"
"What for?" He gruffed.
"That's how I see. I like to know what the people I'm going to be around often enough look like." She held both hands up, "May I?" He grumbled for a moment, but then moved to sit down in front of her and pushed his face into her hand. She started with his hair. It was coarse and thick. It melded with the beard on his face. His forehead was very broad, with small, close-set eyes, and a large nose that led down to the moustache covering his mouth. She could feel the beads and braids in both his hair and beard. "What color is your hair?"
"Red, I suppose."
"More of a chestnut shade, Dwarf." Legolas ran his hand over Rina's hair. "Not at all like your lovely fire silk."
His kind words caused her to blush. "That silver tongue will get you into trouble one day, Greenleaf."
For some reason, watching the way she gently memorized Gimli's features cause a stir with the Hobbits, who all wanted her to do the same for them. Which led to her learning Boromir's, and then relearning the three companions that she already knew. Apparently, it astounded them that she could tell what they looked like from just touch. Eventually, the Hobbits took to trying to learn each other. From what she heard, they weren't going very well. Once they settled down for the night, the giggles stopped, and they all fell to a restful sleep.