Part 1: Chapter 20: Wandering Folk, the Summons Heed
"So you asked her onto the Company," Fíli stated the question, stepping in smoothly to Thorin's right side, timing his gait to match Thorin's as he headed back to the overlook for a smoke.
"Aye." None of them could leave him alone. Thorin smiled, still feeling the blows that had accompanied Dwalin's impertinent Thief imitations. He glanced at his Sister's Son, the Thief's Dog bounding at his side. "You're ready?"
Fíli nodded. "Does that mean you've chosen, N'adad?" Ever to the point.
"No." Thorin kept it simple, stopping there. His eyes gentled on Fíli, whose face passed toward sadness, but not quite. "It means we go together to the overlook while the others wake and Bombur prepares breakfast."
That brought Fíli's smile back. "I wanted to ask about Sona."
Sasha barked and Thorin almost laughed. "Balin will give her the contract once she wakes."
Fíli rolled his eyes just the way Dís did when exasperation began testing patience. "That is not what I meant, N'adad."
Thorin grinned again, still feeling the happiness from the night before––She would join the Company!
But to what end? "Come, Fíli. Talk can wait 'til our pipes are lit."
Fíli snorted. "With you we might wait much longer."
But soon they were seated, enjoying the view and the morning air while smoking some of the Shire's best leaf, the Dog lounging at Fíli's feet with her tongue lolling.
"She confided in me, accepted my trust," Thorin began. Had she truly?
Fíli's eyes rooted upon him, as if studying intricate vein patterns in stone.
"I believed she wanted to find her way home," Thorin tried to explain, feeling lost yet again. "And she does, but––"
At that Fíli shook his head slightly, the tip of a laugh exposing his dimples.
"This is serious, Fíli."
His Sister's Son actually laughed. "It's been serious since she found us; you've just been slow to catch on."
"Not that!" Thorin's face burned. "That's…" Thorin wondered what it was… "Private." He settled on a word he hoped would end the topic now.
There were more important things.
Fíli's face went blank of humor, but remained intent, relentless, unyielding.
"As I said, she seeks her home," Thorin continued, unwavering under the heavy stare, a fine Durin trait, useful for Kings. "But before that, she…" How was he to explain this? "She wants to help us escape a great danger."
"What danger?"
He said he would not speak of it by name, a promise he would keep. "Details do not matter."
Fíli grasped his arm. "That has never been your way––"
"She has my promise."
"She asked you not to tell us, then."
Thorin answered with a nod.
"Why?" Fíli argued, and Thorin already knew his train of thought: "Counseling our thoughts together, we may be better equipped to head off danger…" Fíli's words were a reflection of his lessons.
How oft had Thorin said the same himself?
"I thought to tell her this." Thorin shook his head, recalling. "Started to, in fact. It was no use. She was adamant, and so I resolved to help thus handicapped. The details do not matter; we will see it done."
"Aye," Fíli let go of his arm. "You're so deep you can't see." His eyes remained firm, and a crease of worry took over his brow.
It is long past that, Sister's Son… "She believes she is to blame because the Hobbit did not join––"
"Rubbish."
"Aye," Thorin agreed. "There are deeds she feels only she must do. She will give these tasks to no other. By sparing details, she believes she saves others from her burden."
"More rubbish heaped upon it," Fíli huffed his complaint, his eyes bright with ire, though open and yet warm.
"I could not let her do this thing alone."
"No."
"I believe she thinks she will do it alone."
"But she's accepted onto the Company," Fíli objected, frowning in earnest.
"Aye," it was clear his Sister's Son understood, just as Thorin expected. Long moments passed. Thorin suspected Fíli waited for him to say something further, but he was at a loss.
"Fire Drakes Blast our Halls, N'adad! Can you tell me nothing?"
Thorin jerked up, slightly shocked, and stared intently into Fíli's angry eyes.
"Where did you learn the curse, Inûdoy?" Thorin had a good notion of the answer.
Fíli's eyes widened at the question as he registered again to whom he spoke, but he did not hesitate. "Annals of Dwarven Curse Forms, the Fire Drake Scroll." There he stopped, likely hoping for release from Thorin's lock on his eyes. Instead, Thorin waited for the rest of the answer. Finally Fíli gave it, "…from 'Amad's library."
"Does she know you borrowed it?"
"Are you going to tell her?"
"Aye, when you say this in my presence again. I saw a Fire Drake in our Halls. These are no mere words."
Fíli nodded. "Pardon," he said, again no hesitation. But his face did hold a question. "Why does 'Amad have the scroll?"
She did not only have it… she wrote it. "To remember."
She had not put her name to it, for freedom's sake.
They were quiet again. And after a time Fíli's eyes gentled and his face eased, but the worry remained.
Thorin owed some explanation, so he resolved to try one. He grasped Fíli's shoulder and brought their foreheads together, content to have him close. "Sona warns of a grave danger to all free folk of Middle-earth." Kâmin zashar…"If she should not act, the world will fall to evil and ruin."
He felt his Sister's Son tense like spun wire. "You say she believes she must do this alone. It's painful to think–– She can't alone, she's a Pacifist, N'adad."
"Whatsafist," Thorin intoned calmly in Dwalin's absence. "Of course she can't. But she sought my aid for all our good, and I will help her come what may."
"And so that is when you asked her onto the Company."
"Aye."
"With all these thoughts in mind."
"Aye."
Fíli stared hard, and Thorin knew he wanted to go back to the private matter, he could see the struggle play out beneath the surface of his Sister's Son's open face. Finally he could hold it no longer: "What about––"
"Mabujbē. It can wait. It will wait. I will make it wait."
Fíli's mouth hung open, but it was not long before he winked. "You know, Danîe said that for ten years."
"See then?" Thorin smirked back. "I have time."
"Life happens on a Quest, or off it. You know as well as I."
Thorin half glared at his smart-witted Heir, feeling a swell of pride. "Aye, it does."
"Then we agree." The lad's growing enthusiasm was a spreading fever, and Thorin kept their foreheads yet together, each drawing strength from their passions, drawing understanding from the bonds of beloved kinship.
"So, though she thinks she is alone, she is not," Thorin said, concluding his explanation.
But Fíli was not finished. "Does that mean she knows the whole Company is with her?"
"No."
Fíli's lifted his head up to look more directly at him.
"I think it best she discovers that on her own."
"So you did not tell her when she accepted onto the Company?" Fíli asked, as if he were asking a Dwarfling if he knew his way home.
"She will see it. The words are in the contract."
Fíli nodded, his face easing.
"That is when she will truly accept," Thorin pressed in once more. "And whether or not she does, that is when she should know."
His Sister's Son's concern was not entirely appeased. "What if she doesn't realize?"
Somehow Thorin was not worried. "She will, whether she can voice it or not."
"She will think you tricked her, N'adad."
"No––" What? This shocked him. "I have not. How, when it is written?"
Fíli just stared.
"There's no trickery, no secret how this Company moves, Inûdoy. She has been with us; she remains to see more of it."
"That does not mean she will understand this detail."
"Perhaps she will not chide me strongly when she achieves her goal and remains alive. We will be there to help her on both counts. She's been searching for help since she came through the fogs, and I will give her that." Thorin was sure of his answer. "And as to her perceptions of our Companies operations, pay mind; she is very observant."
Fíli nodded, and then he added. "There is but one choice." Thorin was sure Fíli spoke with more than one meaning, but he stuck to the one in the open. "You cannot let her go alone. None of us can. So, she'll see what she's done, trusting herself to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."
Thorin couldn't help thinking she already knew, whether she would admit it or not.
By now Fíli was set in his smiles, undaunted once again. "Any thought to the other? You said you have not chosen…"
Back to that. "I said it was private."
"So you say, N'adad." At that Fíli flashed him an impertinent grin, "…as far as Roäc can fly."
They returned to camp just as Bombur placed the Thief's tea on a rock beside her, the steam from it rising just over her face. She liked a blend of cardamom and spice with green leaf. Thorin smiled; these were herbs he also favored. Bombur had spent time in the kitchens of Imladris; this blend was one thing he made certain to learn, having noticed how well Sona savored it.
Thorin glanced by to see her sleeping form shift. She breathed in the morning air and her eyes shot open as though someone spoke her name, and then she sat up to follow Bombur's movement as he headed back to the fire.
She glanced to the bronze tankard and then frowned, eyes sparked with wonder. "Bombur, did you…?"
Bombur merely nodded, his focus returned to stirring the almond dusted oatmeal several of the Dwarves preferred, Bombur most especially, this time garnished with honey and berries he'd found on their trail, and periodically turning the potato fry with egg and sausage, a hearty preference of several others–– Thorin smiled, pleased that Bombur chose this morning to make some favorite meals among them, using his fine culinary talents to see it done.
"But how…?" she asked.
Bombur shrugged. "I know what food makes everyone happy."
Indeed, our Cook knows; he brought supplies for your favorites knowing you would come. Thorin's smile only increased, though he made sure to shield it from her view. He glanced over at Nori, who was watching on with a bemused expression along with several others, Dwalin, Bifur and Bofur included. There must have been some wagers.
"Dori likes a good smoked salmon," Bombur began with particulars.
And various teas, like you, Thief.
"Glóin loves biscuits with chocolate bits."
Don't forget the salted pork...
"Kíli will eat anything I put in front of him."
And then some. Thorin nearly snorted, hiding behind a fist with his face averted.
"…and my honey glazed scones always put a smile on Thorin's face."
Ah, honey. Durin's Beard, Bombur, you didn't need to tell her that!
He stole a glance to mark her reaction, to find her blushing. He could not look away… She shoved her hair aside––
––How he wished to run his fingers through that hair––
––and reached for the tankard and took it to her lips.
Her lips… He should not stare.
"It's perfect. Âkmînruk zu, Bombur."
Asti––
––the Khuzdûl suits your voice.
And Bombur jerked up, surprised by her usage, but just as quickly he expanded with smiles, beaming and shaking his head, keeping his eyes on the oatmeal over the fire. "Yamal, a pleasure, my Lady," teaching her a new word of Khuzdûl.
Meanwhile, as the Thief reached for her wash kit, Balin took a seat beside her, armed with contract, ink and quill. "Good morning, Lady Sona. I trust you slept well."
"I did, thank you." She stretched, her body motion-craved after sleep; she moved languidly, while her hands, delicate but strong, flexed above her head… "But please, it's just Sona."
Sona––
––Thief––you take it all.
"As you wish, Sona."
––Gold Song.
"Here's your contract, lass."
Join with us!
"Please look it over, and if everything is to your liking, sign it and return it to me, and all will be in order."
Aye, Mahal, may it be…
She smiled back at Balin when she took it.
The contract fell open on her lap, part of the parchment sprawling to the ground. At once stunned and shocked by the expansive length of it, she choked on her tea.
Thorin's breath caught on a laugh, and he was surprised by his own feelings, as he was used to such irritating reactions among People of Men, but it endeared him, somehow, coming from her…
How shall I live this way?
And then she sighed.
It will be hard.
He glanced her way now and then as she turned through the parchment, reading every side. It was not long before she was finished and looking for Balin, who sat on a log enjoying the potato fry.
"Balin?"
His Advisor froze in action, fork suspended, food abandoned before him. Thorin had to suppress yet another laugh.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I can talk to you later––I didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast."
But you already have, and he wants to know your thoughts––
––I want to know your thoughts.
Still she tried to escape back to where she left her bag, but Bombur was already there with her oatmeal, one he had garnished with cinnamon and cardamom in addition to the almond, honey and berries for the rest of them… This seemed to knock her off from her prior course: she turned and sat next to Balin on the log.
"Now's as good a time as any, Sona." Balin brought his last bite to completion and set his plate aside to take her contract in hand.
Thorin sat on the other side of Balin, desperate to know what she would say.
But she said nothing, staring intently into her oatmeal, tasty as it was. It was if she were reluctant to look any one of them in the eye, especially him.
Thorin felt his chest tighten, a slight trepidation bringing on the edge.
"Let's take a look here…" His Advisor unfolded the parchment.
The Thief continued enjoying her oatmeal, once popping her head up to give Bombur a sign of her pleasure, with her smile in addition.
It will be hard beyond measure.
Bombur looked his way, his eyes full of reward from his gift.
'Well done,' Thorin signed, and Bombur smiled all the more.
But soon Balin was at the bottom of the contract, and frowning. "You…" His Advisor clearly did not want to say the rest, so he spoke fast as if to spit it out. "…didn't sign it."
Thorin's eyes flashed to Balin and then back to Sona.
W-what? What's wrong? Thorin thought. Does she reconsider?
The camp had gone utterly silent, the only sound being Sona's spoon on her bowl.
Why had he not expected this?
"Yeah, about that… there are just some things I want clarified first." She continued to eat, and Thorin realized she was doing this for grounding. Why was she discomforted, was it something they could fix?
"Such as?" Balin directed the matter in that general direction, and Thorin set his stone mask, breathing even and slow.
"Well, for starters… There's the subject of what exactly my role in this Company is going to be."
Thorin glared at Balin, confused and tense. 'Surely you noted these details in the contract?'
"I thought it was very clear," Balin quipped, to both of them, aloud, and Thorin almost laughed: their thoughts were matched.
"Okay, well maybe there clarity isn't exactly the issue, that said…"
Everyone stared at her, most of them confused, wondering just what exactly she meant, not sure they would ever find out.
In addition, every single one of them eagerly awaited what she would say next.
She chose to read the contract: "The Lady Sona Anand Jones, who, acting as this Company's minstrel in waiting, resident pacifist, vegetarian facilitator, erstwhile diplomat, and sometime thief, shall, upon completion of said duties…" She let the words fade out, and then she made a kiss to the air, an expression she had sometimes when hard at thought.
Thorin quietly sighed and turned his head from the vision. He was not supposed to think of kissing.
"I'm supposed to do all those things?" she asked, intruding on his thought with the same word.
Supposed… expected. What were their parameters?
The contract, Thorin; it's about the contract, and her list of duties…
"It is my understanding that you already do," his Advisor calmly pointed out.
'Âkmînruk zu, Balin.' Thorin signed to the side.
All the Dwarves nodded, agreeing, smiling.
"Uhhh…" She stumbled over her own thoughts.
"Is there anything else about the contract we need to clarify?" Balin asked, nudging her to the next objection.
"Well…" She stopped. Clearly she was embarrassed to say it. Something more troubled her. What could it be?
Thorin waited. Time was forever.
But then she carried on.
"Here, where it mentions funeral arrangements," she bit upon the spoon in her mouth, and Thorin wanted to feel it… Now.
Focus, Thorin. She's concerned about burial rites…
"I just wanted to make sure that if I do, you know…" Die. She spoke of her death for the Company. No. If at all, it will be the other way. I am for your protection. That is why we do this…
I will not let you die…
"You know what, never mind. It's fine. It doesn't matter." Sadness and defeat coated her voice, yet she looked for the quill, and she would sign anyway.
This roused him.
No, not this way.
Whatever your concern, it matters.
He remembered their time in Imladris, when she spoke of burial customs of the lands where she came from. He recalled their moment with David's ashes: David Ho'ard Jones Jun'yor, when she shared a part of her husbands remains to the winds.
The rites are so… he shut his eyes on the horror rolling through him––
Stop. She'd shared this with him. And thus he accepted, steeling himself.
"Balin," Thorin stopped them both. "Please make an addendum for the proper Hindu death rites and cremation to be observed."
Sona stared at him, mouth ajar, as if he'd just given her the costliest jewel plucked swiftly out of an unbuttoned pocket, all free for the giving…
The Dwarves stared on with mixed expressions of confusion, surprise and satisfaction. Kíli leaned in and signed to his brother his Brother, 'What's she mean–– cremation?'
Bodies fired unto ash…
Fíli discretely replied on the matter.
A sour look tinged with horror passed over Kíli, and then he shook his head. Fíli signed a quiet assurance, his smile bright like the morning sun, calming his brother slightly.
Kíli looked back at Sona. Though she did not see him, he stared her way with an irked expression and Thorin wondered if he'd say something reckless.
"Aye, that's easy enough." Balin glanced at Thorin, signing, 'Is it?'
'Aye.'
Balin took the quill and made the necessary addendums, asking "anything else, Sona?"
"Um yes." She took another bite of her oatmeal.
Thorin could tell she wished this part finished.
"While we're on that subject, I just wanted to make sure if anything happens to me that Sasha is taken care of."
Should the Dog have the life-length of Roäc, spanning beyond a hundred years, I would keep her safe past my days, and Fíli will shower her with love a whole life long.
But it will not come to that.
"Don't worry, Lady Sona," Kíli could no longer contain his silence, but his words were gentle. "Nothing will happen to you."
Sona smiled with sad knowing eyes, ones who had lived through loss. "I know, Kíli, and that makes me feel about a million times more comfortable about doing this." She put down her empty bowl, biting her lip…
He pulled his own in, stopping when he noticed the pain he caused his lip.
He could not keep doing that…
"I just… it's just that… well, you never know what's going to happen."
Thorin slightly nodded, so barely none would see. He knew well death's tricks.
"The thing is… anyone of us could die at any time."
Aye.
"You never know."
Thorin felt a shiver down his spine, and he knew she spoke of her past, just as he remembered his. Even in battle, where death is expected, some times it isn't. Frerin. Whipping his dual swords at the forefront of the battle charge, opposite Thorin, behind their 'Adad at the tip of the vanguard… His smile hard and bright and young before the gates opened wide…
"You could kiss someone goodbye…"
David Ho'ard Jones Jun'yor, had you kissed him goodbye?
He saw it in her face.
Aye, one last kiss.
Dís said she tasted love and waiting; she cherished it long after, her most costly lost treasure.
Anrân Birashagimi'ē––
––That one should feel such loss for aches too personal to contemplate.
"…and tell them to have fun at the beach," she said, so sad, her voice near stopped by grief.
Aye, you said this to him, the very words…
"and then…"
Birashagimi'ē. Her words grew weak and stopped, and her breathing labored as she clenched her eyes, feeling it over again.
Just then the Dog whined from her place next to Sona, lying her head on the Thief's legs, to warm her with touch and share some of their sorrow, as beings do.
He wished he could touch her, soothe her, but for this––! He clenched his jaw, as if he could put a lid to feelings–– within this context, she spoke of her lost husband––! Such thoughts were unfitting, unwelcome, and he'd best subdue them for the sake them both. A weariness gripped his heart.
"Sasha's my… well she's family to me."
Of course she is. The Dog is all she had left from home, aside from possessions.
Possessions do not fill a heart, not like family, or…
I would offer you mine, if only.
Nonsense, stop. Stick to the contract. Thorin looked back at it and let his mind wander to open spaces.
"And I know maybe that's silly to all of you… but…"
Silly? What's silly? Thorin looked back up, to see his Sister's Son shaking his head, having lost the thread of conversation.
Sona finished her thought. "I have to know she'll be looked after."
"Don't worry, Whatsafist––" Dwalin was quick to put in the answer shared by all.
"––Pacifist––" Sona corrected, putting a smile on a few faces, easing the tension among them all.
"We'll look after your Beastie," Dwalin promised.
Indeed, they would keep the Thief and her Dog safe until he saw her home.
With that Sona signed on to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.
/T\oSo/T\oDo/T\
A/N: Many of you have come to "Biriz Akmâth" from "On The Road to Find Out" by Jenny-Wren28. But for those who have found this tale first, it's time for another nudge, to let all my readers know this is but half of a whole. If you haven't yet visited OTRTFO, which is this tale told from Sona's PoV, you are missing out! You will find OTRTFO linked in my favorites.
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