Hello everyone! I'm back with the latest chapter! Uni is done for the year so now I'm able to dedicate more of my time to this fic. I've got some ideas I'm really looking forward to exploring and can't wait to start writing more.
I'd like to give a shoutout to ro781727, who has been asking excellent questions about the story and giving me great ideas for future scenes! Thank you for your sincere interest, and know that you inspire me to write better and write more. I only own my OC; I do not own anything else. As always, questions, compliments, constructive feedback, or comments are welcome and encouraged.
"Aspen! Come get me Aspen!" my brother shouts. "I'm coming!" I'm a younger version of myself. I chase him around the lawn as he screeches in laughter and runs away from me. "Na na, you'll never catch me!" "Oh yes I will!" Rather than continuing to run, I stop where I am, waiting for him to come to me. He always does.
Sure enough, he starts to inch my way, trying to stay out of my reach, while I try to make a devious little grin look innocent. He continues to make faces at me, but I just wait as he comes closer and closer, wait, just a little more and—Pounce! "Ha! I got you!" He and I go tumbling, shrieking the way kids do when they're having fun.
"Ow!" I poke a little at my skinned knees. My brother laughs at me and runs off.
"Aspen dear? Everything ok?" my mom calls from the porch. "Yeah," I reply, rolling to sit up. My brother tries to taunt me again, but I'm not really in the mood to play tag anymore. A car door slams, and there's my father, striding into view.
"Dad!" My brother and I run to dad, who's currently hugging mom around her bump. When they kiss, I make a face. Who wants to see mom and dad kiss? But then he's squatting down, giving a hug first to me, and then my brother. "Did you guys have a good day at school?" Enthusiastic nods meet his question. He grins. "Why don't you guys go play on the swings?"
I turn, and we're at the park. Weren't we just at the house? Well, swings are my favorite anyway. As I swing, mom and dad talk, probably about something serious from the looks on their faces. I keep swinging. Kick the sky, kick the fence, kick the sky, kick the fence. Higher, higher, jump! I land with a solid thud on the woodchips.
"Aspen! Be careful!" mom chides. "Sorry!" I call, not really sorry at all. The afternoon passes and before I know it, I hear dad calling my name. "Coming!"
As I run up to my family, my brother stares at me. "Who are you?" "Who do you think? I'm Aspen you dumb dumb." "No you're not! You're too big!" "No I'm not!" Right?
That's when I notice mom and dad looking at me strangely. "I'm sorry but you're scaring our son," my dad says. "Why? I'm your daughter. I'm Aspen!" "I'm sorry but we really have to go."
"You've got to recognize me! I'm Aspen." My mom glares at me.
"I don't have a daughter," she snaps. "I don't know who you are but get away from us."
My family hurries away as I stare helplessly after them. Panic overtakes incredulity. No matter how hard I try, I can't catch up with them. I can't even move. My limbs are sluggish, like I'm asleep somehow. "Wait! Please wait! Come back! Come back! Come back!"
But they don't. I watch as they move further and further away, ignoring my cries. The park fades away, and I watch them through a long tunnel, billowing dust obscuring their figures. "Come back!" I cough, reaching for them, as if it'll make them remember me. "Come back, come back, don't leave me!" My voice cracks, the dust stinging my eyes. I can barely make them out now.
"Come back," I whisper, a strangely-real wetness on my face.
I feel a touch on my shoulder, and I jolt awake, heart pounding. The night air is cool on my overheated skin. After my eyes adjust to the dull light of the low fire, I make out the concerned face of Thorin. He looks at me for a moment, no doubt noticing the sweat on my brow and tears tracking over the bridge of my nose.
"It's third watch," he says simply. Thankfully he gives me some space to get up, and after wiping my face and a couple deep breaths, I join him at the campfire. I stare out into the darkness, the fire warming my back. There's a nudge at my elbow, and I turn to see Thorin offering me a flask. I sniff, then take a swig, knocking it straight back.
Even so, I cough. "That's disgusting." He chuckles. "Miner's brew. Good for clearing your respiratory system." I snort. "I would never expect a king to drink something so…" "Uncultured?" "Nasty," I finish. He chuckles again, but something in the tone makes me look over. "It's the strongest stuff we've got."
And then I listen, as Thorin lights his pipe and tells me a tale of heartbreak and loss, of having to move forward even when he doesn't want to. I listen as he tells me of countless, small everyday battles, the kind necessary just to survive. Joys mingled with sorrows, hope and pain, fond memories balanced with grief. The smell of pipe smoke mixes with campfire smoke mixes with scents from times long ago. Images of a young Thorin, barely an adult and fighting for his life, seem to materialize in front of us, a montage of atrocities.
Little by little, the puzzle of Thorin Oakenshield starts to make more sense. I wonder how he can still want to go back and reclaim that mountain, when his entire life has been filled with pain because of it and senseless greed.
But I think Thorin knows, like me, that some things are worth fighting for. They're worth the hurt. It's just a matter of choosing which ones matter the most.
After he finishes, I get my wallet, noting my keys are missing. Again. Once I return to Thorin, I show him the pictures of my family and my friends, telling him whatever story comes to mind about them. He says nothing, but the look on his face is soft, and I know he's remembering his own loved ones.
"Thank you," he finally says, "for trusting me."
"And you, for trusting me."
I think back to yesterday, when we found the troll hoard. The most difficult part of the whole endeavor was actually entering the cave because it smelled so bad. I decided to sit that one out. Fili joined me, and that's how we ended up having a discussion about knives, respect for women, and self-defense.
"Thorin." "Hmm?" "I need to learn how to use weapons." "Aye, I see that now. I should have allowed you to learn when you first requested to, yet in my pride and stubbornness I did not." I blink, not expecting it to be that easy. "Fili and Dwalin will teach you the basics. Gloin and Bifur can also give you lessons." Nodding, I say, "I suppose that will be good to start." Thorin's brow furrows.
"Until we know what I'm good at, I'm going to have to try everything. If it turns out I'm better with one weapon than another, then I need to practice that." Thorin nods, looking me over. "Of course. You have some strength, but you will need to build more. And you will need better endurance."
I scowl and shake my finger in Thorin's direction, pretending to be offended. "I'll have you know I used to play soccer. My endurance is phenomenal." He raises an eyebrow. "Although I do not know what soccer is, I can assure you otherwise."
"You wound me."
"But it's true." "Hmph. Well at least I don't smoke." "What do you mean?" "In my world, we've figured out that smoking is bad for your lungs. Makes you get horrible cancers and other diseases and die younger." He mulls this over for a bit, then wordlessly offers me his pipe, an innocent look on his face. I really shouldn't.
I inhale only a tiny bit, then hack my lungs out as the pipe falls to the ground between us. For once, Thorin forgets about the dwarves sleeping around us and cackles like I've never heard before. If dwarves were lighter sleepers, he would alert everyone to the most embarrassing experience of my entire life. Of course, I'm doing a good enough job of that on my own.
When I recover sufficiently, I tell him exactly what I think about his trick. "But it's not a trick. I merely offered my pipe. You took it." "You could've warned me." "If I can manage to inhale this and still run faster than you while wearing armor then you can work on your endurance." "You never wear a pack." He shrugs, gathering his hair up into a ponytail. Really, it's a look he should wear more often. "One of the advantages of being king." I send a rude gesture in his direction, and he grins cheekily in return.
I start my weapons training with Fili that night. When Thorin tells him about his new task, he looks surprised. Maybe somewhat dubious, but he doesn't object. I wish he had. After our session finishes I can barely lift up the sword he let me borrow. I'm not by any means weak, but I'm definitely not as strong as a dwarf and never will be. And using my muscles in a way I'm not used to doesn't do me any favors.
Fili reluctantly decides, with the agreement of Dwalin, that I will never be a sword fighter. Dwarvish swords are too bulky and swinging throws me off balance. I do a little better with the daggers and throwing knives, but I sense that they're also not going to be my main weapon. Fili has me practice hitting targets drawn on the trees with my borrowed throwing knives, and though I miss the target more than I hit it, he insists I'm improving. He also says I'm improving with the daggers, but considering that I almost cut off a chunk of his hand, I don't really believe him.
I catch him murmuring with Thorin and Dwalin, who both start to look more and more worried. Dwalin emphasizes my physical training and Thorin starts asking Bifur for help with training, and while I wish that went well, it doesn't. Bifur and I can't communicate directly, and it's not like there's another boar spear just lying around for me to practice with. On the days I practice with Bifur I usually find myself regretting my wish to ever learn weaponry.
When Fili and Dwalin aren't beating me up in the guise of weapons practice, I'm usually found with either Ori or Bombur. Ori is slowly but surely teaching me how to knit. I first noted his woolen garments in Bag End, but haven't had the courage to ask him to teach me until now. When we have time during nights gathered by the campfire, he shows me the basic stitches, correcting me when I count incorrectly or when my stitching is too tight until I'm making decent progress on a woolen scarf.
Bombur and I mostly talk about food and our families. I trade recipes from my home for dwarvish ones, and eventually he and I come to an agreement—if I will teach him how to make red beans and rice, he will teach me how to make rabbit stew.
A couple of nights after my nightmare, I'm on watch again with Thorin. As usual, he takes his time speaking, sitting with his back against a rock and puffing on his pipe. I sit next to him, waiting for him to tell me what's bothering him. "Do you know where Gandalf is leading us?" he finally asks. "Aye, we're going to Rivendell."
In the firelight I see Thorin scowl and mutter a soft curse in his tongue, which I've learned is called Khuzdul. "In the morning I will try to dissuade Gandalf from this destination. We should stay as far away from the elves as we did the trolls, if not farther."
"Why?" My tone is a little sharper than I intend, but I have Thorin's attention. "At Rivendell we could rest for a bit and set out refreshed. Our rations and other stores can be restocked. I think it would do everyone good to have a little rest and eat well."
"Elves are treacherous creatures and they cannot be trusted. When the dragon Smaug first came to Erebor, they watched as my people ran from the doors. We were homeless, in need of aid, and what did the elves do? Nothing! They did nothing as they watched my people flee from death. I would not go to those tree shaggers if my life depended on it." Thorin spits, anger and pain cast on his features. His pipe is in danger of being crushed in his hand. I heard his stories; I know what he's feeling. I also know that he's hurting too much to think clearly.
"Thorin, going to Rivendell may be the only way to regain Erebor. Gandalf believes there is something hidden in the map that only Lord Elrond can find. Would you really risk reaching Erebor and not being able to get in? You may have to sacrifice your pride, but right now going to Lord Elrond is the only way to find out what's in that map." Thorin grunts. "There may be others." "Aye, there might be others. But how long would it take to find them and go to them for help?" I pause for a minute to let that sink in.
"Do you trust me?"
Neither of us have forgotten what he said to me at the river, and I certainly haven't forgiven it. Thorin looks uncomfortable, as he should. "Aye, I do." "Then trust me on this." He hesitates a bit more. "I'm sorry. For the river." "Don't do it again." "On my honor," he replies, holding out his hand. We shake.
"I will trust you on this." I smile. "Good."
I begin to hum some Sara Bareilles, hoping to soothe his frazzled nerves and injured pride. I continue as Thorin fights sleep, and then loses his small battle, relaxing at last. A small twist of affection worms its way into my heart, and I grin. We've known each other for about two months now, and I think a solid friendship is forming between us. As much as one can have with a short-tempered king trying to lead a suicide mission.
I sit silently beside him as he sleeps, keeping the watch, until dawn when he finally blinks his eyes, then scowls at me. I merely smile at him and go to rouse the others.
We press on until it's almost completely dark. Gandalf stumbles upon Rivendell by literally almost stumbling into the valley. "Here it is at last!" he calls, and we gather around him and look over the edge of a steep slope. Thorin scowls at the sight of the valley far below. Water rushes in the distance.
"Look! There's a light on the far side of the valley!" Bilbo exclaims, pointing. I can barely make out the light, but after a few moments of searching, I also see it. "You have good eyes Bilbo," I comment, causing the hobbit to scuff his feet and mutter some nonsense about just having a regular hobbit's eyesight.
We start down the steep zig-zag path into the secret valley, and around me the air grows warmer as we get lower. The trees changing from pine to beech and oak, looking sturdy and strong. I walk with Bombur, grateful for his presence and his lit torch.
The singing comes out of nowhere, and an elf drops onto the path from an overhanging tree. The elf studies our group with a curious gaze, laughs, and sets us on the correct path towards the house. As Bombur and I pass, I sneak a look, and eyes full of mirth meet mine, and then it winks at me. I hastily look away, making a mental note to keep an eye out for that one later.
We continue on foot, Gandalf in the lead, followed by Thorin, Fili and Kili, Balin and Dwalin, Bilbo, and myself and the others. Gloin brings up the rear, seemingly both reluctant at being so close to elves and excited at the possible prospect of food. I imagine most of the dwarves feel something similar. I'm just looking forward to a real bed.
At last we reach the river, which we cross on a too-narrow bridge. I'm the only one who crosses the bridge carefully, half-believing it will fall away under me at any minute. The dwarves seem unaffected by the heights or the thundering water beneath, and Gandalf and Bilbo hardly notice, so busy are they at looking at the marvelous architecture.
And indeed, Rivendell is beautiful. The night is dark, but light is everywhere, from lamps or wall sconces. The Lord of the Rings set can't compare to what I'm actually seeing now. The design is light yet solid, organic and elegant. All around is the sound of flowing water and wind through the valley. I can see open windows and walkways with light curtains fluttering in the slight breeze. I take a deep breath. Never have I breathed air as pure and crisp as this.
The bridge empties to a circular area lit with large sconces, with a grand set of stairs leading to a large, open pavilion at the top. Walking down to greet us is an elf with long, dark hair and fine clothes. I find myself staring again, wondering how elves can look so alien yet human. "Mithrandir," he calls. "Ah, Lindir!"
The elf and Gandalf exchange greetings by pressing their hand over their hearts and extending it towards the other. None of the dwarves seem enthused to hear that Gandalf knows the elf's name. The two fall into a discussion concerning the whereabouts of Lord Elrond while I stick close to Bombur and his family.
Suddenly a horn sounds, and I turn, squinting, trying to see past the circle of light the sconces cast. A large group of elves mounted on horses galloping towards us comes into view. Thorin shouts in Khuzdul, and I'm pulled roughly into the middle of a circle of armed and yelling dwarves along with Bilbo. "Hey!" I yell, though I'm ignored. I clench my jaw, angry and annoyed at being manhandled this way for nothing, knowing that the elves would never do us harm. Although considering that it's fully dark and I don't know much about elvish night vision, perhaps it's good that I'm in the middle. Less likely to get hurt.
"Gandalf!" one calls as the elves stop their mounts. "Lord Elrond!" Gandalf responds. They start an easy conversation in Sindarin, chatting back and forth as Elrond dismounts. The dwarves look on in suspicion, not letting me out of their circle. Finally Elrond says, "Strange, for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near."
Gandalf frowns at this, as do I. Other than the goblin who attacked me my first night in Middle Earth, I've seen no goblins or orcs. Why would they now come so close to Rivendell?
Thorin steps forward, making his presence known. Elrond turns to him and says, "Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain." Thorin inclines his head and replies, "I do not believe we have met." "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."
"Indeed? He made no mention of you," Thorin says rudely. I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath to keep from smacking the back of his head. After all of my talk on needing Elrond's help, Thorin still has to be an arse and go around insulting one of the most powerful people in Middle Earth. Elrond graciously says nothing and looks at each of the company in turn. When his gaze finally settles on me, his eyebrows rise.
"You are no dwarrow," he says, letting mild surprise lacing his statement. I shake my head. "No Lord Elrond, I'm human. My name is Aspen." "You are welcome here, Lady Aspen, along with your company. Come, Lindir will lead you to your rooms." With that, Elrond turns away with Gandalf in tow, leaving Lindir to lead the company up the steps to the pavilion. I smile, liking the way Elrond said it was my company. It's sure to rankle Thorin to no end, which is no less than he deserves.
Lindir directs us to a large, well-lit room with a balcony and several supporting pillars. Doors are set into the walls at regular intervals. The dwarves peer at the corners warily, not bothering to whisper as the look for possible traps or dangers. As they take their time opening each door and inspecting the rooms, I sigh and cross my arms. "All y'all need better manners. There's nothing there." The dwarves ignore me, and Lindir pretends not to hear me even though his mouth twitches. Finding nothing dangerous, the dwarves start to settle down.
When I move to follow, Lindir stops me. "Lady Aspen, I would be happy to get anything you or your company might require." I smile at him. "I think we could all benefit from a bath." Lindir gives a slight bow. "Of course Lady Aspen. I shall send assistants along shortly."
He leaves and I claim a room for myself, slipping off my muddied and stinking boots. It's simple, with a narrow bed and a nightstand and chair, but welcome. I hang my cloak on a peg and cross to a door in the wall opposite my bed. It's a bathroom, complete with indoor plumbing and a tub. Cheered by this small bonus, I slip inside to inspect myself in the mirror and splash some water on my face.
What I see surprises me. My face is narrower and tanner, while my eyes seem brighter. Unfortunately, there are also some breakouts due to the lack of regular face washing on the road, but that is the least of my worries. There is an air about me now that speaks of resilience and toughness. Peering closer, I frown at the prominence of my cheekbones. I already know I have lost weight on this journey, but I don't want to lose too much. We've still got a long way to go.
I hear a commotion out in the main room, and I peek my head out to see Lindir's promised assistants moving about, distributing towels and other items for baths. As expected, the dwarves aren't too keen on the idea and aren't afraid to say so. An elleth smiles warmly at me. "Greetings Lady Aspen. My name is Calen. I will be assisting you for the length of your stay in Rivendell. Might I offer you supplies for a bath?" "Yes, they are much appreciated." She follows me to my bathroom, helping me figure out the faucets and proper temperature.
"Lord Elrond has called for a feast in honor of your coming this night, so after you are finished with your bath, I will bring you and your company to the dining place. I will also get you a new set of clothes, if you would like," she says, eyeing the worn bundle in my arms. "That would be wonderful, thank you," I respond.
She leaves me with a bottle of oil for my hair, a bar of soap and a comb. After taking my clothes off I sink in and oh, that hot water is bliss. The few chances I've had to bathe before have been in cold streams with the company in relatively close proximity, thus making quickness a necessity. For a minute I soak, just enjoying the wonder of hot water and my relaxing muscles.
Then I start to wash, starting with my hair and working my way down. I wish I could do my hair properly, but finding something like shampoo or conditioner would be impossible right now. By the time I'm done, my skin is pink from the heat and scrubbing, and I feel like a new woman. I linger a little longer, not really ready to face people yet. I miss having time to myself. Eventually I haul myself out and towel off. Calen left new clothes on my bed and I pull them on, preparing to meet Lord Elrond and the rest of the company for dinner.
Time to face the masses.
