Thanks ever so much for the feedback from those that reviewed!
I'm glad my story is appreciated and every chapter is well received, and it really help me to write more, so thanks a whole bunch really. As always my updates are sporadic at best, and my interest fluctuates (and I'm totally not in the middle of writing the start of an Éomer x OC story (though I promise it won't be posted before this story is way further ahead than it is now!)).
Enjoy the chapter!
When Ravens Fly
Chapter XV: A Leisurely Stroll
Day after day passed uneventful, and only little change came to the city of Dale while Ranel walked its streets; at first she hoped to see familiar faces, expectant, but soon the eagerness was washed away by thoughts of reality. She had based her thoughts off the nobility of Gondor, who never appeared to have much work to do, and she had assumed the same proved true with Dwarves – but clearly she had been wrong.
The letter would arrive, without a doubt, at one point or another when the brothers had time, and surely she could rein in her ever growing impatience until then.
But Ranel could not completely subdue the twitches in her fingers, the constant tugs and pulls at her clothes when she knew not what to do with her hands; in a restlessness that could not be quenched. It was not the city, for she found it charming and captivating; the winding streets and quiet, hidden places; the music of its people, the trade and the bustling life. Songs could be written about the rooftops, sparkling red in the rising sun, or of the moonlit streets bathed in an almost ethereal light when she walked alone in the early hours of evening.
It was not wanderlust that consumed her, as it had done many a time before and lured her out into new travels. Seeking new and unwalked lands.
No. The pull was something else entirely. Beyond the shimmering and clear waters of the Long Lake, the dark smudge a horrid contrast to the surrounding blue of both water and sky, the ruins of the old town so often held her gaze. Transfixed. Locked upon the faint outline of a great carcass, decaying and sinking into the depths of the lake, and every time Ranel was painfully reminded of her initial purpose in visiting.
She wished to meet her Dwarven companions, but she also wished to leave and never return. To finally turn her back on a past she had long left behind. With a furrowed brow, eyes downcast to her fingers on the lute, she focused her mind on her own breathing. The morning was clear, but her thoughts were dark. Inhaling. Exhaling. Swishing strokes of a broom filled the quiet air as the matron's daughter swept the courtyard clean; Edild hummed a soft tune, steps light as if dancing, and ever so often she would spin her dreamed-up partner around.
Ranel watched the shadow diminish and grow thin, fleeing across the cobblestones when the sun climbed over the roof.
Again her fingers ran across the carved flowers on the lebethron wood, fidgeting, until she finally let out a great sigh. It had been enough to catch Edild's attention, and the sweeping paused as the girl came to a halt. "A woman can say more in a sigh than any words can speak," she commented good-heartedly, leaning against the broom with eyebrows raised. "How can one worry when the sun is out and no cloud is in sight?"
With a smile tugging at her lips, Ranel shook her head.
"Dark thoughts can always find a way if the person invites them in, good weather or not!" She waved off her own remark, tilting her shoulders as she fell back against the wall. A gleam was in her eyes when she looked to the girl. "Worry not for me, I am merely pondering old thoughts that have been pondered many times before." Ranel gave a short laugh then. "And they likely shall be again in times to come."
"Perhaps you should much rather ponder good thoughts instead?" Edild suggested.
Again she laughed. "That is sound advice, and perhaps I will be wise enough to take it to heart."
The barmaid nodded, one last brief look at the minstrel, before she took to her duties once more.
Some time passed without either speaking and only the hoarse caws of crows filtered through the silence, when Edild put aside the broom and spoke once more. Though, as Ranel soon noticed, the words were not meant for her. "Can I help you with anything?" The girl called out; hands on her hips and a bite to her tone sounding less than welcoming, and the minstrel looked up.
Peering through the green vines, eyes narrowed in animosity, the child responded with little civility. "I'm not here for you, so don't go sticking your nose into other people's business."
Edild sucked in a breath, indignation clear on her features and her grip on the broom tightened; Ranel watched the boy once more, glancing over tufts of brown hair and quick-witted dark eyes set in a unwashed face, peaking out from the pillar; and recognition settled in her mind. She had certainly seen him before. "I can imagine you are here for me," Ranel called out, and he turned his gaze onto her with a tautness to his jaw. "Although I cannot imagine why. For surely it is not to pay me back the coins you so brazenly stole?"
"I haven't got the faintest idea of what you speak of, lady."
"I didn't think so either," she responded blankly, yet to meet a thief willingly confessing to his crimes with honesty. Her pouch had long found a new owner, and the gold passed hands; that much she knew and expected. She shifted on the bench and patted the hard stone by her side. "Well then, come out from your hiding and tell me what you are after – and let me make it clear from the beginning, there is naught of value on my person this time!"
At first he hesitated, gaze flickering between her and broom-wielding Edild, but then he squared his shoulders and walked over. He took a seat, perched on the very edge of the bench as he made sure to keep a distance from the minstrel. His feet, brushing back and forth over the ground, were bare. "You should not feed strays, otherwise they will come back expecting more," the innkeeper's daughter remarked.
"Do I look like an animal to you?" He bit back sharply, glowering and attempting to look much more intimidating than anyone his size could ever be.
"You don't look like a paying customer either."
Ranel brushed aside her hair, sighed, and settled in her seat to get a better look at the young boy, before speaking. "Edild, that is enough, please. He is here for me and I shall hear what he has to say." Placing the lute on the ground by her side carefully, she folded her hands in her lap and looked at him expectantly. If not for the fact he had stolen from her, she would surely have felt pity for him then; she knew what it was like to go hungry, and the telltale signs were all too clear in his gaunt face.
Rawboned arms were pulled together across his chest, his shoulder blades prominent through the tattered shirt; fingers calloused and nails dark with dirt, but he held his head high and his gaze was unwavering when their eyes met. He could not be very old – no more than seven or eight summers, perhaps. So young, and so alone. Ranel wondered briefly what had happened to her money – clearly he had spent them unwisely, or not on himself at all.
Her face softened. "A bit of bread, if you please, Edild," she said and glanced to the boy, "And a glass of milk, too."
While Edild appeared ready to argue, one quick look from Ranel made her promptly change her mind; and so the food was placed on the space between them, and the girl left them alone. It took very little convincing for the boy to take the bread, gulping it down as he chewed each bite only a little. Not once did his eyes – dark blue like the night, she noted – stray from her face.
"What is your name?" She asked.
Swallowing, he wiped his mouth with a sleeve. "Lif," he said. "You?"
"Ranel."
He huffed in reply, grabbing the mug of milk and emptied it as if his life depended on it; with a white beard of foam he continued. "It doesn't sound like a name from around here at all," he remarked with some haughty disdain to his voice, before turning his attention on the bread once more. She almost snorted in amusement, amazed at his cheekiness despite everything.
"That's because it isn't," she said. "But now you've been fed and all, so tell me why you sought me out."
The bread stopped halfway to his lips; but then he put down his hands and a wistful look came over him. The child appeared much older than he was, aged through the harshness of life. Shoulders slumped, eyes darkened, and then he pursed his lips. "You said there were other ways ..." It was but a low mumble, too faint for Ranel to hear him clearly. It forced her to lean closer in her seat, until he repeated. "That day at the market, you told me there were other ways to make money – how?"
Ranel's brow furrowed. "Through honest work, of course–"
He slammed his hand down hard on the bench at her words, making the tray rattle and Ranel jump, as he barked a reply. "Honest work? Who would hire me? A child with no parents, no skills but quick fingers! How could I ever make money but to steal?" Surprised and taken aback, she watched him; his chest rose and fell rapidly, and his gaze an unreadable dark.
You poor thing, she thought, feeling his heartbreak clearly even though it was not her own. Of course he had never wished to become a thief; it was not a fate he had chosen for himself. It had been forced upon him. A sudden coldness trickled down her cheek; she brushed a hand over the skin, gathering the tear that had fallen. When had she started crying? The empty mug rolled across the cobblestones, thrown in his powerlessness, and then it settled and stopped.
"You don't know anything, I just want to go back to how things used to be!"
His eyes were glassy, threatening to spill tears of frustration, and apparently her own had mirrored his. She was at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing with nothing to say. Instead she reached out and pulled the boy into an embrace; he struggled, fisted hands attempting to push her away, but she managed to wrap her arms around him. It was not often she had to comfort children, and it felt awkward to her but despite it all she tried her best.
His face burrowed in the hollow of her neck, and soon she could feel moisture seeping into her shirt. His efforts in pulling away grew feeble until they stilled. "Hush now, everything will be all right," she whispered into his hair.
While rocking him back and forth, soothingly, she softly sang; it was but an old cradle song, not noteworthy nor grand, but nothing else seemed suitable for the situation. Ranel felt the tautness drain from the small body in her arms, the fists now clutching the end of her clothes. Strangled sobs, muffled and restrained, turned to hiccups.
When had he last been allowed to be a small child and sought comfort? She stroked his hair, unwashed and mucky but still soft to the touch, and she glanced to the sky above. There were no clouds; it was but a blue cover pulled across the world, so clear and open to adventure – yet the devastation of the ancient beast had robbed the boy from the chance to ever enjoy the beauty of the world around him.
They sat for many long moments after her song had ended.
Quietly, without a word spoken, she listened to his breathing as it calmed. Then she brushed her hands across his face, rubbing at the dirt and grime with a small smile. "Well, what say you to us getting you scrubbed clean, and then we'll go find someone to carve you a flute?" Lif blinked in confusion, eyes red and swollen, and the previous mask of self-confidence gone and replaced with doubtful insecurity.
"W–what?" He sniffed.
A sleeve was pulled across his face, scrubbing at his runny nose.
She picked up her lute and pulled him to his feet. "I told you, didn't I? There are other ways to earn money. I'll show you how."
And so the unlikely pair stepped into the tavern, but even with many words of persuasion Edild refused to warm water to draw a bath. Instead Ranel brought the boy to the small enclosure on the other side of the buildings, where she could pull water from a well and it proved useful enough to scrub the worst grime from his face. Ranel had managed to pry a bar of soap from the barmaid, and when she poured a bucket of water over Lif, the brown hair turned almost golden as swirls of mud gathered at his feet.
His outer garments were placed in the sun to dry; a cloth draped around his thin shoulders, he leaned against the stones of the well, watching her. He seemed to ponder something, torn between speaking and keeping quiet. But finally he was courageous enough to voice his thoughts. "Thank you," he said softly, cheeks reddening.
Ranel smiled. "Doing good has never harmed anyone," she said.
The winding streets of Dale were much different in the pale morning light; the sun was now climbing over the walls, and a breeze borne from the East tugged at streamers with loud snapping flaps. Their road from the inn had last been in the gloom of night, in the hour of darkness, and then they had followed the large tower of the Lord and the gate as beacons. But now, several times the company of Dwarves went in circles, climbing hills and descending again; following narrow streets and through open spaces.
In the end they swallowed their own pride and asked for directions; they had to ask several people on their way, for the small and hidden inn were known to only a few. But finally the twisting vines running across the pillars came into view, and a strange sense of anticipation came over Fíli when he dismounted. Behind him he heard the rest of the company coming a stop, hooves clacking against the stones, as they pulled their ponies through the entrance.
The stable boy looked ill at ease as he saw the many animals, stuttering apologies; the inn could not house so many. But with reassuring words that they could share stalls without issue, he guided them away with some help from two Dwarves. The remaining company entered the inn, finding it empty this early during the day. Fíli looked to his brother. "Now then, what plan do you have in mind?"
Kíli stepped forward towards the counter, heavy boots the only sound in the silence.
He did not need to wait for long, before footsteps could be heard; the young woman, who had served them previously, climbed the steps from the basement, a bundle of linens draped over her shoulder. Her mouth fell open. "Oh my," she said. Then she hurried to the counter, settling aside the white cloths, and attempted to replace her surprise with a smile. "What may I do for you, good Sirs?"
"Breakfast for the company, first of all," Kíli said, then pointed towards the tables. "May we draw some tables together?"
She nodded quickly. "Of course." Then her eyes trailed over the company of Dwarves. "Breakfast for all of you?"
"Yes, although there is no need to rush – we plan to stay around for some time. We came early, and I can imagine the kitchen is not yet prepared for guests?" He smiled. "If you keep them provided with ale, then they shall prove quite the patient lot."
They had soon pulled two tables together, placed chairs for everyone, and so the guards – albeit with some confusion as to their purpose – were equipped with a mug of ale each. The barmaid, jutting down quick and scrambled notes, took everyone's orders; roasted chicken and ham, potatoes and sauteed carrots; bread, with butter and cheese, blueberry jam; fruit, if they had any, and a pot of tea. Fíli felt a pang of sympathy for the young woman, strands of blonde hair coming loose and cheeks flushed, and he planned to give her a suitable tip once they were done.
It took some time before the food arrived, but when the guards had finally passed around plates and were digging in, Kíli beckoned the barmaid over. "We are here with other business in mind," he said, "Last we were here you housed a minstrel, and we delivered a letter for her." The woman nodded, showing she remembered it clearly. "With us we have brought someone she wished to meet – is she still here?"
"She is," she answered, "I believe she is resting, for I have not seen her leave this morning. Shall I go wake her for you?"
"If you would not mind, then yes."
"Right away," the woman disappeared up the stairs. Fíli felt extremely anxious about the meeting, almost to the point of apprehension. But she had wished to meet her Dwarven companions again, so surely she would feel nothing but gladness upon seeing them again. Of course, he thought darkly and took a swig of ale, she wants to see the blacksmith's family. He sighed.
Not them.
The blacksmith's son, sitting between a large red-bearded Dwarf and Dwalin, answered questions as best he could; his purpose in visiting Dale, how he knew the Princes of Durin, and he often shot questioning looks towards Fíli and Kíli, unsure of how to respond to such inquiries. But he was then spared. Two pairs of footsteps thudded down the staircase, and soon the barmaid appeared with another woman close behind; her long brown hair was tousled, and her fingers worked nimbly to straighten and correct her clothes.
Fíli quickly rose to his feet to greet her, his hands mirroring hers as he smoothened his tunic; he wished he had not seen the amused look Kíli shot him then. The minstrel appeared confused at first, gaze running over the large group of Dwarves with eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes rested a moment longer on the princes, recognition flashing and a smile tugged at her lips, but soon her attention was drawn away.
Lóni had stood upon her arrival, and he stepped forward to greet her.
The Dwarf bowed as her custom, but with barely contained joy she flung both arms around his much broader shoulders. Fíli, finding himself still standing, glanced away; he returned to his seat, hands curled beneath the table. "How good to see you again, Lóni," she said, teeth bared in a wide grin when she released him again. "It is so wonderful."
"My family sends their regard," he said, "They, too, wished to be here but could not with work."
Listening to his words, happiness clear on her features, she guided him to a pair of chairs further from the group. But it was not too far; Fíli could still hear their conversation, even though he adamantly refused to admit he was listening in. She had seen him clearly – recognized, obviously – yet not greeted him. He pressed the mug to his lips, hiding a frown.
"Lóna did attempt to sneak into my bag, but her wriggling gave her away."
"I would dearly like to see her again, but I cannot blame your parents for keeping her home."
From the corner of his eye, Fíli watched the pair; how she leaned forward, with such familiarity and closeness, and a sense of shame overcame him when he understood his own feelings. The sharp pang, cutting into his stomach; deeper than any knife could ever dig. Jealousy. He put aside his drink. His mind reeled, playing every encounter over and over in his head; their first meeting on the shore of the Long Lake, how he had followed the green cloak with zealous stubbornness. For how long had he felt this way?
Fíli knew Kíli was watching, seeing all the subtle changes in his features only a brother could read.
And he understood, finally knew, why Kíli had acted as he had.
A hand pressed down on his shoulder, squeezed in support, as the younger prince stood. The touch lingered a moment longer, but then Kíli walked to the pair; he gave a swift bow at the minstrel, and she lowered her head in return. "You have my thanks, my lord, for bringing Lóni with you. And my gratitude for delivering my letter," she spoke.
"It was nothing," Kíli waved off her appreciation, "And it was rather my brother who did all the work."
"Nonetheless, you have my thanks," she laughed.
A brief moment of silence followed, while the prince regarded them thoughtfully; then, running a hand over his stubble beard, he worded his question. "Say, Master Lóni, you have not seen Dale before, have you?"
"No, my Lord," the Dwarf replied.
Kíli grinned, receiving the answer he had hoped for and expected. "Well, then, what say you to a leisurely stroll through the city? I always find the opening of the markets an interesting view, and the weather is just right for a walk. Do you not agree?" There was left little room for agreement – or disagreement – and the younger Dwarf merely opened his mouth to reply, before he was cut off. "Brilliant! Shall we?"
Following in the wake of the whirlwind that was his brother, the guards were left behind at the inn; the barmaid had been paid generously to keep them well supplied with both ale and food, and no disagreement was voiced when the princes departed alone. If, of course, one was to disregard Dwalin. The old warrior they could not shake, and they tried very little to do so for it would be a most futile endeavor.
Ahead walked Lóni and the minstrel, followed by Kíli and Fíli, and Dwalin made up the rear. She appeared to know the way, leading them through narrow alleys, all the while pointing here and there as she shared stories with the Dwarf. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, mulling over how little thought she had spared on him. "I knew not we were attending a funeral," Kíli said unconcerned.
Fíli shot him a look. "I see little purpose in being here."
"Well, we can leave those two and return if you so wish?"
Deeming him unworthy of an answer, Fíli fixed his gaze ahead and squared his chin.
Rather than continuing the conversation, the brown haired Dwarf hastened his pace and caught up to the ones in front. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he wedged himself between the two, a smile on his lips, and he exchanged a few words with the other Dwarf. The minstrel did not seem to take the interruption to heart and merely carried on; of course Lóni could not point out his prince's discourteous behaviour, but was forced to mannerly reply.
They followed a shadowed path a while longer. Then the quiet town stirred and came to life; the first they could hear were voices, rising to a great volume as they approached a marketplace ahead. The path opened and soon they found themselves between traders and merchants; several dusins of tables were set up, wares were put on display, and carts going to and fro carved through the throng of people.
At the edge of the crowd, they halted.
Kíli was still putting claim to the young blacksmith's attention, leaving the minstrel by herself. Her eyes caught his and she smiled, inclining her head. He saw it as an invitation to approach; he walked up, digging his hands out of his pockets, and stood before her. "Good day, my Lord. I never did extend my gratitude to you, so I must thank you for making it possible for me to meet Lóni again."
"It was very little you asked of us, so of course," he replied. "I barely did anything, Miss Ranel."
"Just Ranel, if you please," she said. His brother started moving once more, marching ahead with Lóni, and they followed into the lively market square. Fíli and the minstrel fell into step next to each other. Her mouth tilted to a grin. "And your brother said the same, My Lord."
Fíli smiled. "Did he now? And you need not address me so, Fíli will do just fine."
A gleam came to her eye, but then she looked ahead. "Very well, Lord Fíli."
This time he let out a laugh.