Part 2: Chapter 11: O'er Shaken Pool, Under Heaven Cool
"Let's spar," Thorin motioned farther out the field, away from the hall, the barn, whatever it was the Bear Man lived in––
––a safe place––
"Bollocks, Thorin, today we do forms, you––"
"Don't tell me what I need, Buhel." Thorin was at the bag, pulling out the woods for practice.
And then they were out in the field, Thorin doing his best to pummel Dwalin, failing miserably but moving nonetheless, however bad that movement felt.
It didn't take long. Thorin glanced toward the building to spot Sona with her pack, close to the Bear Man, discussing––
––something.
And Dwalin caught him, crushing wood to his jaw.
Blast it. Thorin continued circling, looking for that opening Dwalin failed to give, muttering curses.
And then he saw her again, this time leaving, she headed toward the bathing creek with her wash kit, Sasha accompanying her as well as the golden Dog. And the Bean.
That was when Dwalin knocked him off his feet. "You're not sparring, Thorin, when you're watching Whatsafist."
Thorin got back up, glaring and unsatisfied.
That is when Nori appeared at the edge of their spar circle, near a tree, crossing his arms and waiting.
And Thorin kept on, to Dwalin's annoyance, he could tell. His Warrior was losing patience while Thorin was losing his breath––
––and wondering where the Bear Man had gone––
Whomp.
Dwalin was in his face now, with a scowl that surely matched his own.
"Are you done yet?"
"Fine." Thorin threw down the wood and turned to Nori. "What brings you?"
Nori bowed his head slightly, looking above the spar field, in Thorin's eyes, one brow cocked, no smile showing, one could only imagine what the Spy thought––"You might like to know, Sona just now told our Host he can bugger off."
Did she? Thorin let that sink in. "Those words? To him?––"
––Where was the uproar? He was part Bear, after all––
"I paraphrase, and well. Not directly. Even so, she denied him firmly for any care or company. He wanted to take her bathing, see, to help her find the water." Now Nori smiled. "She told him, quite specifically, she could find it on her own, pointing just across the glade," Nori pointed the way to the creek, across the field and partly among the trees, partly visible from where they stood, and partly not––the obscured area people used for bathing––
––the Thief was there now, getting wet and naked––
"Her face clearly showed how ridiculous she thought that was," Nori went on. "She told him she saw the water. And that Sasha would see to her safety. Only Sasha, 'thank you very much.'"
"So what, Nori?" Dwalin wiped a band of sweat off his brow. "Whatsafist's always polite, that's telling off nothing."
Nori nodded, and without a blink, went on, "No, the best part came when she stomped off, free of him, out of earshot, and she mutters, 'I'm a grown ass woman who doesn't need an Ihnêfabbing escort for a bath.'"
Ihnêfab–bing?
Dwalin's eyes shot to Nori, frowning the unspoken question.
And Nori shrugged as if this were normal, to teach the Thief Khuzdûl in such a way. "I taught her that one."
Indeed.
Thorin considered her word choice, escort, she used it once more––
This time with a stabbing rejection.
Thorin smirked.
That had not been the case the first time Sona used that word–– for me.
––Dennar'ê––
––I'm her lead escort.
Thorin would have loved to escort Sona to the creek, except––
Now Nori stared Thorin straight in the eyes, not hiding the gleam in his own. "And then she called him a creep."
Dwalin scratched his beard, slightly frowning in thought.
"So," Nori went on, "I say a creep is kinda like a snooper or something––"
"Then you must be a creep," Dwalin eyed him pointedly.
Nori gave only a silent stare as response.
A moment passed, wind cooling the sweat on Thorin's chest, his body aching from too much everything. "Good." That was all he would say.
And just then they all saw Sona returning from the water, surrounded by Sasha, the golden Dog, and the little Bean, all cleaned and fresh––Zabal nungu Azsâlul'abbad––
––Biriz Akmâth'ulê––
––her scent caught on the wind.
"Dwalin," Thorin motioned back toward the water. "Let's get the sweat off."
At the water, Dwalin has settled in, sitting at a shallow flow, leaning back against a large river stone. "You realize, Buhel, Nori's only told you what you already know."
Thorin was in the water, cold and fresh, up to the waist, and this was the perfect time to take a dunk. The sweet cold touched his aching body as nothing else could. He glanced to his Friend, who listened like no other, with an air of unconcern, but Thorin knew it was there, hinged on every motion––
––and he would shield his friend from every heartache, however, he knew this was impossible.
And what had Dwalin said? Ah yes, the Thief had flinched when the Bear Man attempted to take her hand. She clearly didn't want him that way––
––what way?
Thorin recalled it. She had shown them her mind and spirit, by her body revealed, like a swing reflex of heart, and her body would mind the command––
She never flinched at Thorin's hand––
Ē'ze––
–– Imhed'ul Mahal––
Yet she did not know, she had no way of knowing, and she had not chosen.
Binumrâl. Widows make their own way.
"And our Host," Dwalin's face rested momentarily on a frown, before he wiped it with cool hands. "He's made his intentions noxiously clear. And so she has conveyed to him, Buhel, she does not require him, in a Whatsafist way that still provides security and aide to the Company. Don't forget that."
––Our Diplomat––
Thorin took another dunk, unsure what to think, not liking the path his mind chose. What if she loved someone else? Someone they should meet along the way? She had told him time and again, Men could love more than one, and yet, this pain he had not considered––
––nor anticipated.
Even at the thought she would reject him.
Imhed'ul Mahal.
Still, it could happen. Thorin was glad it hadn't happened here, with the Bear Man. Perhaps Beorn would have been better–– He was big, strong, escaped Azog. Survived. People could find his strength and physical form attractive––
––Ē'ze––
––She could have found his strength and physical form attractive.
This was new, this feeling––
Beorn had a good place, Sona seemed to like it here, and it seemed Orcs couldn't get through the fencing, so, if she had wanted the Bear Man's affections––
––Mahal. This feeling, this jealousy, he didn't like it.
Maybe it would have been better. But he couldn't get himself to swallow this beyond the logic of it. And he was spared––
––she did not find Beorn so.
Dwalin said no, others saw, and her recoiling confirmed this fact.
And in spite of everything this made him happy––
––for now.
And yet, Thorin's gladness was fairly blunted by their dangerous reality: she could have been safer, staying here, safe from all that chased Thorin.
This tore inside, the thought that Thorin would prefer Sona living at risk, with him, as opposed to the goodbyes required for leaving her in a safer place––
And yet, would she be?
––could she be safer parted from him?
Not likely.
She had the artifact. She could never be safe, carrying that. He imagined it with the Bear Man––aside from the horror of this thought in itself––who knew how the artifact would reach for him? There was Man in the Bear.
He needed decision. And yet it seemed to him, their circumstances defined the actions they must take. Juzrazur'ul Sona Ē'ze Mabajbūna'ule. He thought he was beyond this, before the fogs. An impossible thing, one he hadn't missed. But now? Here they were. Now he wouldn't go back. The Thief stole past that point. And now it looked all the more impossible. He had a Quest. For his People. For all he lived for, and now he stood to lose his way by having found his One. He could not afford to lose his way.
Or his close friend.
He already knew he could never leave her. He tried it from Imladris, and that was before he chose. Mabujba.
Dwalin relaxed in the water, not a care in the world, though for all of them it was there. Our whole fate rests with hers. I could not leave her even if I knew I should.
"I need to keep going," Thorin carefully pulled himself out of the water, up the bank.
"Not today you don't," Dwalin muttered, following.
Thorin nodded. The next best thing was his harp, and a song. And to that he found a private space in the sun
Warm glade, cool breeze in the early afternoon, Thorin began to play. He would seek the peace to say goodbye, though he already knew he could never follow through.
Rubbish.
His hands felt good on the strings, though he should not have stayed so long in the water: it left his flesh a bit tender, sticking the strings, as he began tooling on his song––
––A travel song he'd been working on as their journey began, to give the journey a place in musical records. His composition began a month before the fogs, give or take some days––
––Akmâth'ul'ē Kadmith––
It started with goodbyes––
"Farewell we call to hearth and hall––"
––If only he were strong enough––or if ever she wanted goodbye––
"Though wind may blow and rain may fall––"
––wind blows, rain falls––
The Thief would be safe, home. He wanted to imagine it.
Falling water sounded, Arwen's gift, those telling bangles! Sona was here.
His eyes opened to see her through the leaves of the Aspens. All he could do was stare, yet he kept on, his hands over the strings, his voice sounding the words, his eyes holding her––
Binibritami Asti––
––will you stay with me?
He could not ask, and so, he waited, playing, singing.
And a quiet delight set in. She hovered there, appearing to wonder, and he wondered if she would stay, or leave, though honestly, she did not appear to have any desire to leave––Imhed'ul Mahal. His delight settled deeper.
"We must away ere break of day––"
Could you be safer without me? No.
He hung on the motion of his music.
"Far over the wood and mountain tall."
She stood there, her posture calm and pleased, as if she considered his unspoken question, and he could see her answer––
Her foot began it, one step forward.
Thorin's gaze followed up from her foot to her eyes, his body and soul both elated and relieved. And even so he feared.
How can this be all at once?
His voice stopped but his fingers kept moving. And then she came into the glade, sitting in the grass nearby, the little Bean at her feet––
Peanut, she called him. He was in her lap the minute she was kneeling, settling in just as she got down.
Thorin tried not to laugh, and thankfully just then she wasn't looking at him. His heart––fool heart––sped up as she arrived, so happy to be with her, it beat blissfully on, unaware of other necessities or requirements.
"That's my first happy memory of Middle-earth."
What? He stared at her there with her eyes closed petting the Peanut Dog, not wishing to disturb her, but this made no sense, blast the confusion. Surely her first happy memory was in Imladris; he saw it happen. And it had little to nothing to do with him. Yet here they sat, alone in the Bear Man's field of grass.
How?
"This moment?"
"No, back at the Shire, I fainted––"
Thorin's eyes widened as he looked her over, quickly again, for injury, before admonishing himself in his head––she's fine, she was fine. Nothing happened.
"––when I figured out where I was and who exactly was in the house before me."
Myself, my Company, Tharkûn, and the Grocer––And now she pats the Bean's belly. He smiled inwardly, hands continuing over the strings––steady the stone mask––he wasn't sure it worked, hiding his desire.
"I was pulled to wakefulness by this song––"
I was pulled by you––Asti Ē'ze Juzrazur'ê––
"––by you––"
Could you read my mind?
"––by all of you––"
––Of course––
"––singing it."
Thorin remembered that moment. That strange pull outside the window as he sang this song, and how strange it was, that he'd found comfort in it. He remembered how alive he'd felt, how ready for this Quest, and called. He looked at her sidelong, knowing. It had been her. And she had been outside that window, and he had felt her looking, and felt safe. Of course he had felt safe. She was so gentle.
She had been there.
A jumble of confused feeling welled now––
Ē'ze––
––Lost and hungry––
––Why had she not knocked?
He knew very well why, or who, was to blame. The culprit with the crazy blade was in that house, singing songs with his Company, having days before threatened her life for stealing his food.
He sighed, fingers still moving over the harp. Things had improved since then––
––close friend––
––Dennar––
Now she would knock on his door. And he would see her safe.
His eyes went back to her hands on the Dog. His hands moved over the strings, weaving the harmonies of his Company singing with him.
But they were not safe.
It seemed as moments passed she grew uneasy, and he wondered how he had offended her, but then banished the thought: he had done nothing but play his harp.
Thorin kept playing, considering, as an expression of pain passed over her face, like the memory of a dead friend.
He looked away, keeping his fingers moving, offering space for whatever troubled her.
"Do you need to calm your mind?"
Ah Mahal, she's getting up!
––Binibritami Asti––
What had she asked, rising with the Bean in her arms?
What do you need to hear? Could he say nothing to make her want to stay? Friends. Close friends. She had been more than pleased. There was hope he could say something––
"Hmmmm."
Think, fool, and speak up.
"Sometimes I play for the simple pleasure of it." He tried smiling at her, but felt muddled just the same.
"You didn't answer my question."
"No, I did not." Thorin returned his gaze to his harp, knowing he needed to say something, anything, so she would stay. But what words? He felt so much, no word seemed even remotely appropriate––
Asti––
––You pierce my soul––
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No." This he said with no hesitation.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
What?
"You know, whatever it is that's bothering you."
You, Asti––
––You don't bother me––My reactions, well. Those are right-altogether-bothersome. And no, I can't talk about this with you, but it's not a bad idea to watch your fingers ruffling over the sleeping Dog––
"I can see it in your face." And now she avoided his eyes, looking past the Aspens toward the water. "You're worried about…something."
You notice much, Thief.
Azog––
––He is not finished––
––I must stop him or everyone I love will die.
Oh, and you are my One, Ē'ze. And it grieves me you do not share it, or even know I have chosen––
––But this matters little, while I have no Home to share with you––
––I've nothing but a Quest and a Dragon before me, with Azog ever after.
––And you bear a great burden––
I will be your friend––
––the best you could ask for––
––but I cannot tell you why I worry.
Binumrâl––It is not for me to say.
"The Quest weighs heavily on me."
"Oh, don't give me that." She waved her hand at him.
He nearly laughed, smiling behind the harp, keeping his hands moving over the strings, enjoying the tone in her voice, the spark in it, the way her hand swatted up, that commanding move, like a natural––
"The Quest always weighs heavily on you. You worry about a lot of things."
How she was lovely, here, with him. She tapped her lips, and then pointed at him.
––Asti.
"This is something new."
––I would grab your finger, pull you close––
"You're a bigger grump-muffin than usual."
I almost got you killed. Some foul mood should be allowed. Dwalin says I've been almost too calm. He felt the bruise rising on his jawline––well, maybe not so calm.
And grump-muffin––You keep repeating––How am I a muffin?
"Have you been sleeping?"
––Have you been watching, to see?
And besides––
"Maybe I should see if I can find you more lavender––"
––Aye. NO!
Flower of home––
––Zabal nungu Azsâlul'abbad––
"I sleep." I kept the lavender you gave me––It does not work like you wish it would.
"I'm sorry I pushed." The little Bean shifted in her lap. "I just want to help." And then she pertly changed the subject, smiling directly at him. "How did sparring with Dwalin go?"
Mahal. Dwalin caught him off guard. He felt the burn on his cheek now that she mentioned it.
She pointed her brow at him, prodding comfortably, "Were you distracted? He usually can't land a hit like that."
"Dwalin had the advantage," Thorin muttered low.
"Which reminds me," she turned her head, "why did you and Dwalin both have black eyes wile everyone was fine when I rejoined the Company after I fell?"
Thorin's hands stilled.
"Did you guys run into some trouble?"
––You fell.
"No. No trouble." Mabujba Ē'ze. I was going after you the most direct route, when Dwalin used his fist for thinking.
She did not probe––Imhed'ul Mahal–– and soon enough his hands began moving once again, fingers over the strings, like grounding.
Quieting, she stretched out in the grass, her arm cupped her head, her hair splayed out behind her, dark and golden strands drying in the sun––her hair still wet from the washing a while ago––
––a hint of lavender on the breeze––Zabal nungu Azsâlul'abbad.
And he imagined her, stretched out like this, just like this, but on the Mountain, in a field of lavender, home. And he would stop playing his harp as the light waned golden red and blue in the sky, and he would curl in behind her, holding her close, to watch the sun together, like in Nai'adal, as they were carried by Eagles. And when the sky waned lavender, he would carry her in, to the chambers they shared there, as she would have forgotten her slippers in favor of feeling the earth––
But here they were, on the lands of the Bear Man, and he looked at her as he played, so happy in this moment, just to see her.
And then she began to hum the melody of the music he played––
Sona––
––Biriz Akmâth'ulê––
––my Gold Song.
––weaving her voice in and out with the harmonies, filling him with momentary happiness, that, amidst all this confusion and danger, he found to be a most unusual and welcome feeling.
Her presence was his only rest, the best medicine, he smiled inwardly. So he lingered without thinking, playing on the harp.
Because if he thought, he knew this could not last.
He would keep her safe.
Here she is safe. Here he can play them music.
The little Bean settled snuggled next to her and she sighed.
Thorin took a deep breath, wishing he could hold her while she sighed, sinking into the silken sands of her voice humming his tune.
/T\oSo/T\oDo/T\
Khuzdûl:
Ihnêfab – the act of stabbing.
Binibritami – stay with me
Thank you Jenny-Wren28! Hugs to you, Buhel; it's good to be back. :)