I woke up slowly, sleep blending with birdsong and an awareness of my limbs that was more passive and leaden then anything. The fuzzy borders between asleep and awake filled my mind with a heavy mist that filtered awareness like light. Eventually the fuzziness faded away, and thoughts began to creep in. Idle wonderings about what I had to do today and what I was doing when I fell asleep. Eventually, I tried stretching a bit, and groaned at the soreness in my limbs. On the up-side, it was a lot better than I figured it would have been without the magic elf bath, but it still hurt like I'd been put through the meat tenderizer. Or, you know, a hamsterball full of rocks.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't wake up in time for breakfast."
I flinched, and blinked my eyes open to peer blearily at the dwarf beside my bed. Because, with a voice like that, dude had to be a dwarf. And, lo and behold, I was right. It was Bofur, but we hadn't been introduced yet.
"Uh, hi?" No one ever said I was intelligent in the mornings.
"Hello lass," he grinned brightly at me, then stood from the stool he was sitting on to bow with a flourish of his hat, "Bofur, at your service. Are you feeling up to accompanying me to breakfast? We figured you might like that, rather than staying in bed."
"Well, y'all figured right, Master Bofur, I just don't know yet if my body is going to cooperate enough. Give me a minute to find out?"
He chuckled and nodded, then wandered over to the window, whistling. Thanks for the privacy dude, this was going to be humiliating.
Carefully, I lifted an arm to pull the sheet back. It felt like led, and ached, but I managed just fine. Me 1, body 0. Next, figuring that just trying to sit up was a bad idea, I tried scooting my legs off the side of the bed. While this did work, it took all my self control not to groan, and I had to pause to take deep breaths. I hadn't been this sore since learning how to play catcher. But still, me 2, body 0. No choice but to go vertical somehow, I tried to use my arms to lever myself into some sort of sitting position, so I could get me feet on the floor. That, however, was not a good idea, and the subsequent flop back onto the bed was almost as painful as the levering was. This time I did groan. Me 2, body 1. Bofur winced and half-turned, but didn't look.
"Do you need help, lass?"
I winced, "Thank Bofur, but no. I'm just being a bit dramatic. Something you will come to learn about me, is if I'm whining and groaning about it, it probably isn't a big deal. I'f I'm just gritting my teeth and dealing, yesterday's episode with losing consciousness is a much more likely result. I just can't stand the achey pointless stuff, like, the pain you just have to wait out," I couldn't help but pout a bit, "It's annoying."
He chuckled again, and relaxed, "If you change your mind about wanting a hand, just let me know. Or if you need me to leave so you can get changed."
That, was an excellent point. Poor dude probably felt like he was breaking all sorts of rules of propriety by staying, but wanted to be on hand if I needed it. Sweet.
I tried to get up again, making it into a sort of smooth rolling motion to gather momentum, and it didn't necessarily hurt any less, but it worked (me 3, body 1), and I stood unsteadily by my bed for a moment, waiting for my body to adjust to being upright.
"Alright Bofur, I'm up. I'm not exactly decent for breakfast though, so you'll have to wait a moment outside the door, if you don't mind? You can always go ahead and I'll catch up."
"Oh no, wouldn't dream of just leaving you lass just because you need a minute to get decent," he turned to the door, carefully keeping his eyes from landing on me, and I almost chuckled. I was very covered by the robe, after all. But medieval senses of propriety and all that, I guess.
"Thanks Bofur!" I called as he shut the door, and got a slightly muffled affirmation in response.
Now, for clothes. I looked around the room, and grinned when I saw my pack resting by a sort of vanity with no mirror, but a bowl of water and a couple small towels. Quickly wiping down my face, then chest and armpits with the cool water, I smiled as I woke up some. My ribs were still firmly wrapped and aching, but my bruises looked more faded than I expected (yay for magic elf bath), and my cuts had almost all sealed, or at least developed very solid healing scabs. I grinned.
Pulling my change of clothes out of my pack, I frowned around for my bra. Had the elf lady taken it to be washed or something? That's when I noticed the little table near the door, with, lo and behold, my clothes from yesterday, including my bra, all freshly cleaned and neatly folded. I grinned again, and slipped it on with minimal grunting and groaning. Shirt, pants, throw the robe on the bed, and I grinned as I opened the door.
Bofur greeted me with a matching grin, and pushed away from the wall to guide me down the corridor. If my steps were a bit stiff and slow, he didn't mention it.
The walk to breakfast was quiet, Bofur humming on and off and I trying to figure out how best to breathe and walk without it hurting, whilst simultaneously memorizing the route. Soon though, we came to a large open hall that was mostly balcony, and had one huge table down the middle. The dwarves were all seated close to the door, clustered around the end of the table. Bilbo, oh Bilbo, sat on the outskirts of the group, in the gap between the dwarves and the few elves at the table.
When we entered, only Dwalin glanced up suspiciously, only to nod in acknowledgement and violently elbow Thorin. Like, was that much force really necessary? Thorin also glanced up, and nodded, then violently elbowed Fili. Seriously, what is with dwarves and excessive use of force? Thorin also muttered something to Fili though, and there was suddenly an almighty shuffle as the dwarves (wait, the proper term is dwarrow, isn't it?) all scooted down to make a space between Thorin and Fili. Directly across from them, Balin just sort of rolled his eyes.
"Aria," Thorin beckoned me, patting the seat beside him.
I fought not to raise an eyebrow. I mean, thanks, but also how do you expect me to climb into a bench seat with broken ribs? I approached cautiously. Apparently he had thought of that though, because he near shoved Dwalin off the bench scooting down to make room for me to swing my legs around, then matter-of-factly steadied my back against his side while I did it. I'm not blushing, who's blushing? I just got helped into my seat by a king who I'm sitting next to and is part of my favorite book. Nope, totally not blushing. Especially not when Fili handed me a plate already piled with food. Where dwarrow supposed to be this... sweet?
"I trust you rested well?" Thorin again, with the not being carved out of rock shtick.
"Uh, yeah. I slept like a rock, thanks. You?"
He looked confused for a moment, then sort of nodded, "I do not rest well in the halls of elves," he frowned fiercely at saying elves, "But, it was comforting not to have to set watch for Orcs."
"That, would make sense," I took a big bite of eggs. It appeared a full English was dimensionally universal, and you wouldn't find me complaining, "Elves and dwarrow don't get along very well, do they? Judging by what I know of you guys, and what I've seen of this place, y'all would be like oil and water."
That got the attention of, well, all of them. Balin was the one that voiced the question.
"What do you mean by that, lass?"
"Oh," I looked around, "It's that you guys seem very passionate and grounded, and this whole place feels like it's bleeding serenity and airy etherealness. Also, I mean, if you think about the difference in psychology between mortals and immortals, a big character flaw in most immortals is being condescending and belittling of mortals. No mortal, and I think dwarrow especially, can help but take offense to that. This place already makes me feel like a clumsy, dirty, idiot, I can't imagine being treated like one would make me feel very amiable at all," I shrugged, as much as my ribs would allow, "It's kind of a destructive spiral, because the more offended we get, the more they think we're childish and rude, and the more condescending and and arrogant they get, the more we take offense."
"We?" Balin asked?
I blushed, "Sorry, I mean you guys, dwarrow."
He nodded, but eyed me shrewdly. My ribs prevented me from slouching in my seat.
Leaning around Bombur, Bofur called down from across the table, "I think you hit on something there, lass. We're just too different to get along."
"Uh, well," I glanced at Thorin awkwardly, "I wouldn't say that, necessarily. I mean, any group of sentient beings can be civil with each other with enough work from both parties, and individuals can be friends regardless of how the majority of the groups feel, or the politics of the situation, because individual sentient beings are just that, individual. For instance, one of the most popular stories from home is about a pair of lovers whose families hate each other because of some series of disagreements from before they were born. The lovers end up dying, due to some unfortunate events that are a direct result of this feud, and it teaches the two families that no hate is worth the deaths of their children, so they learn to be civil, even if they aren't going to be friends any time soon."
Balin smiled, "A very valuable lesson indeed. Dori tells me you are something of a scholar, Miss Aria, and I can see now that you are very well educated. I'm Balin," he sketched a bow from his seat, "At your service."
I blushed, and did another little half-shrug, "Thanks Balin. To my people I am well educated, but nothing too impressive. However, my education is something I am very proud of. It took me lots of years and hard work, after all." Not to mention I pulled a magna cum laude despite failing an entire semester. But, my new dwarf buddies wouldn't get what that meant. Speaking of dwarf buddies…
I glanced around the table, "I'm afraid I haven't been introduced to the vast majority of you. Aria, at your service," I nodded, because bowing didn't feel like something my ribs would agree with.
Thorin elbowed Dwalin, so introductions started with him and went around the table, each dwarf bowing best they could from their seat. Ori, adorable, awkward boy that he is actually stood, but fumbled with getting trapped in the bench. Bifur and Buombur were both introduced by Bofur, but the hatted dwarf was pleasantly surprised to find that I'd already made overtures toward his disabled cousin, and treated me to a wide grin. I reiterated my promise to see if I could teach Bifur enough ASL to communicate. It might not help him with others right off, but it would be something that could be taught to friends or business partners that weren't dwarrow.
By the time I'd finished breakfast, only Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin were still at the table with me. They were in a deep discussion in what could only be Khuzdul, and I honestly found myself a bit shocked. Didn't dwarrow not speak Khuzdul in front of outsiders? I scooted down the bench to select an apple from a bowl of fruit, and stayed there while I crunched on it thoughtfully. It felt very wrong, somehow, to overhear the dwarrow speaking in their secret language when I knew I wasn't supposed to.
I'd just about finished my apple, when the healer from yesterday swept to a stop across from me, hands on her hips. What was her name again? Insiloth?
"What are you doing out of bed?"
Her voice didn't sound nearly as nice with all the gentleness of yesterday gone.
"I am eating breakfast. I needed to move my limbs a bit to get some of the ache and stiffness out," perfectly good excuse in my book, but sneaky suspicion she'd think it wasn't good enough, "I am unaware of any mandate for me to stay in bed, was there something I missed?"
We'd caught Thorin's attention by now, and the three dwarrow had abandoned their conversation to watch our exchange.
"You were not cleared by your healer, me, as well enough to get out of bed, therefore, you have no business whatsoever in being out of bed! It is wonder enough that you made it here in one piece accompanied by dwarves, and now they drag you from the halls of healing only to abandon you at the breakfast table? Barbaric! Come! You will have undone all my work by now, and we will have to start over from the beginning."
Ok, hard stop. This lady may have been nice last night. Strict, but nice, but who the hell did she think she was?
Slowly, I made my way to my feet, keeping my face an icy mask, "I you thank you, Lady Insiloth to refrain from insulting my companions, the very same ones who insured my arrival in Rivendell for healing after they found me lost and injured in the woods. The very same dwarrow who rescued and cared for me, all without paying insult. I would thank you, Lady Insiloth, to inform Lord Elrond that I wish to be seen by another healer, or none at all, and then take the time you would have spent healing me to think about how childish, ignorant, and arrogant your insults make you sound. If other cultures than yours are barbaric or lesser simply for being different, you are no more than a racist xenophobe. Good day."
…
So… maybe I have a bit of a mouth on me when I get defensive?
Leaving Insiloth to stare and splutter, I made my way back down the table to where Thorin and Balin were doing their own staring. Dwalin just looked immensely satisfied, and grunted. It sounded like a positive grunt though.
I paused awkwardly by Thorin. As much as plopping back down beside him would strengthen my point, my ribs really were quite done with getting up and down. He solved the problem for me though, bless his sweet, kingly soul, by getting up and offering an arm to escort me out with nothing more than a nod.
I accepted it gratefully, and we exited the hall with the sons of Fundin hot on our heels. Insiloth either never found her tongue, or decided discretion was the better part of valor, seeing as she didn't try to interrupt. Thorin led me a few hallways away, and out onto a balcony, Dwalin taking up a guard position at the door and Balin wandering off. For a long moment, we stood in silence.
"Um, sorry if I was out of line. I, uh, don't usually lose my temper like that, promise."
So, not entirely what I wanted to say, but the damn dwarf was just standing there.
"No apologies necessary, Lady Aria. In fact, I should be thanking you for defending my kin so readily," he glanced at me, "Even if your words were somewhat untrue."
I winced, "Not really? I mean, I might have found you, and you might not have been meaning to bring me to Rivendell for healing, but that is what you did. And you're taking me in was certainly rescuing me from being lost in the woods, and Dori's healing, care for my injuries. Therefore, no untruths, only embellishments."
"You are skilled with words."
I waited for him to continue. When he didn't, I glanced at him, only to find him studying me.
"Uh, thanks. I kind of have to be? It's my job."
He only sort of hummed and kept studying me. I shifted my weight nervously. When was I next going to get him alone? Well, besides Dwalin at the door, but increasingly, the need to be totally honest with him was weighing on me. Nobody ever claimed I was good at keeping secrets, and he had been so much nicer than expected. I shifted again.
"Do I make you nervous?"
His sudden question made me blush brightly, and stammer, "No! I mean, not you, specifically, but yes, people. I mean, talking to people makes me nervous and there's something I want to talk to you about, to tell you, and I'm nervous for your reaction," he raised an eyebrow (um, does he know Elrond is literally famous for that expression?), and I backpedaled, "So no! You don't make me nervous, I make me nervous."
Only, I just backpedaled deeper into the hole.
I groaned and facepalmed.
But at least Thorin chuckled.
He patted my shoulder reassuringly, "Whatever you are so nervous to tell me, I promise to hear you out."
I took a deep breath, "I… wasn't totally upfront with you about where I'm from," there, that was a good start, "But I want to be, despite knowing that Gandalf would tell me it's a bad idea, because you deserve to know."
He eyed me carefully, but nodded.
"Just," I started wringing my hands, "Please, try to think about it logically, and don't hate me?" I shouldn't've said that, but when did I ever do what I should?
His brows lowered, and he frowned at me, but still just gestured for me to continue.
"It's just, well, you know how I said I write epic adventure stories? There's a lot of people in my… world who do, and before I was born, a while before I was born, this author -writer- named Tolkien, wrote a series of books about a fantasy world he called Middle Earth, or Arda, or Arda Marred," I plowed on, "At first he wrote histories, and created languages, but the publishers said nobody wanted to read the background information on a fantasy world without a published story, so he wrote a story. It was well-loved, but when he approached the publisher's again about his histories, they told him that one story wasn't enough, that he needed to write another, a sequel. So he did, only this sequel was so long that it filled three volumes, and the publisher's wanted to release each one separately. Reluctantly, he agreed, willingly to do anything to publish his histories.
"He died before he saw the histories published, but his son finished the work for him. The Silmarillion, they called it, and it was Tolkien's life work. His creation of the most complete fantasy world built by any author, ever. Middle Earth became so well-known, and so well loved, that some people even learned Tolkien's languages and adopted the deities of Middle Earth as their deities. But, no one ever believed it was real.
"What I'm trying to say, Thorin, is that I'm not just from the future, I'm from a whole nother world, one that believes this world nothing more than a fantasy. But, nevertheless, here I am, and here you are, and this is obviously real."
For an interminably long moment, Thorin was silent. I didn't dare glance away from him. Finally, he opened his mouth, "These other stories, the ones from before he died, what were they?"
"One, the three volume sequel, was the epic adventure of a fellowship, at the end of the Third Age," Thorin's eyes widened, and his breath caught, "The other, the first, was the journey of a company. A company of thirteen dwarrow and a hobbit, thrown together by a wizard, on a perilous quest home."
Now, I didn't dare watch for his reaction, and locked eyes with my own feet, still wringing my hands fiercely. This could go so bad in so many ways…
"You know of our quest."
His tone was unreadable. I nodded.
"How much?"
"Um, well, a lot? Maybe? It's just, there's two different versions of the story and I don't know which one is right so it could be one way or the other and the really major events are the same but some important details are very different so really I don't know how much I know."
...And there's the word vomit. I flinched and curled in on myself. What if he hated me? It's not like I had a lot of opportunity to tell him, but I did mislead him a bit but I'm in fucking Middle Earth. It's not supposed to be real! Girls, people, only found themselves in Middle Earth in tropey fanfiction! It didn't matter how many times I imagined it happening, I never seriously considered being here, what I would do presented with the absolute crisis of having to be truthful and risk fucking everything up, or lie (never to gain their trust, to be a betrayer) to preserve the happy ending. Only, it wasn't a happy ending, not after having met these dwarrow doomed to die at the end anyway, after everything they went through.
I didn't realize I was hyperventilating until there was a sharp sting in my cheek, and suddenly my vision was swimming and ears ringing and breaths felt like sandpaper as they drug too fast too fast and my chest heaved. The stone was hard against my tailbone when did I sit down? And something vibrated against my ear. What? It almost felt… like when someone talks with your ear against their chest. And pressure on my back began guiding my breaths, pulling up into my shoulder blades, down into my stomach. The surface my head rested on rose and fell in the same rhythm, and the comforting vibrations continued in a low cadence that made my breastbone feel like it was buzzing.
Then I realized.
IwasonthefloorhavingapanicattackinfrontofThorinOakenshield
And Dwalin
...fuck.
The tears that receded with the comfort (not thinking about who it is not thinking about who it is) came back full force, and I feebly tried to tug away and curl into myself as I struggled to choke them back.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."
But the arms wouldn't let me go, and the rhythm of the breathing and the hand on my back and the chest-hum in my ear continued until the tears and sobbing subsided.
I pulled away, and this time he let me, stilling as I curled over with my face in my hands and let out a great, shuddering sigh, ignoring the violent protesting from my ribs, the pain was very handy for grounding in the present.
"I am very very sorry for losing control like that. I think things caught up to me a bit."
"You are under stress, and injured."
I sighed again, "True enough, I guess," too tired to argue.
We sat in silence for a while, it could have been seconds or hours, for all I cared at this point. My body felt like led.
"Foresight is a heavy burden, even for the wisest, and the most obscure visions. Often, those with the ability guard it jealously, or refuse to speak of what they See. For good reason. However, I must keep my Company safe, you understand? So I ask you this: What lives are lost, and how do I save them?"
...Of all the questions…
I sunk deeper in on myself, one part of my brain howling angrily at the way I used the pain in my ribs to ground in the present.
"There are three, in both versions of the story. The same three, during the same event. I… can think of a few ways to begin avoiding those fates, but they are so far from now, and everything in between… Would you be able to trust me to advise certain actions, to begin to prevent that situation from ever happening, instead of telling you outright? There's just… there's some unpleasant things that, that have to happen, else not only the quest but the whole world is doomed. I'm afraid that, since things are already different, they will be worse, but if I can change as little as possible until after the Misty Mountains, we might not be happy but at least we'll be alive, and maybe, maybe we won't cause the apocalypse either."
"Apocalypse?"
"The end of the world. Gone, boom, dead. Complete and utter annihilation and Shadow."
"Oh."
For some reason, I didn't expect a king to say 'Oh.' Then again, it seemed Master Oakenshield just loved to break all my expectations.
He pulled at my shoulder, guiding me into sitting upright, then pulled my chin so he could meet my eyes.
"Our quest has such importance to those beyond our kin?"
"More than you could ever guess."
"Why?"
That's a doozy. Why? "Because the Shadow is growing, and dark things are waking. Didn't you hear what Radagast told Gandalf? The Greenwood is sick, full now of the spawn of Ungoliant. What you didn't hear, is that it comes from the fortress of Dol Guldur, where Radagast was confronted by wraiths and found a blade that had been sealed in the tomb of the WitchKing of Angmar. You asked why the Wargs and Orcs were hunting you, and many wonder at the presence of Trolls so far south of the Ettenmoors. Elrond calls it a 'watchful' peace.
"And, well, one of the important details the two versions of the story disagreed on: in one, Azog's son Bolg hunts you, in the other, Azog himself. A pale orc on a white warg."
Anger, devastation, and disbelief warred across Thorin's face, and his eyes were like fire. His teeth ground together, and his fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly. I did my best not to flinch away. He must have seen something in me though, because he reined himself in quickly.
"What difference does it make, in these stories, between the two?"
That… was a very good question. One I tried to remember the answer to. Only problem, it's been a bit of a while since I last read the book, and only a couple of weeks since the last Hobbit movie marathon.
"Um… some of the details on the version with just Bolg are a bit shaky, it's been a couple years since I read it last, but it seems that there wasn't actually much of a difference, because that telling portrayed him as a lot stronger than the other telling, so he essentially does the same as what both of them do in the other, only there's more encounters with them in the version with both, because they can be in two places. So far, things are more closely resembling the telling with both, which is also the second telling."
"Are things really that different so soon?"
"Yes. In the first telling, you don't encounter the Wargs until the far side of the Misty Mountains. How long are we staying in Rivendell?"
Thorin blinked, "I fail to see how that is relevant."
I shrugged, "It'll give me another clue as to which timeline, or if it's a mixture of both. Honestly, I'm expecting a mixture of both with some things from neither, considering what happened with the Trolls."
"And what was that?"
"In both versions the encounter happened closer to dawn, or at least stretched out more, because Bilbo's stalling, however clumsy, worked out perfectly with Gandalf's entrance. Gandalf, and Dawn, should have happened a couple of moments before I interfered. When it wasn't the right scene, I worried that the Trolls would actually succeed in roasting Dwalin and the rest on the spit, even if they didn't kill the rest of you, and so I had to do something."
"And we are lucky indeed that you did, and that it was so effective," he nodded, "We stay in Rivendell a week and a day longer, to await the moon for reading the mao, and your healing," he tilted his head, "Though, I suppose you know what is written on it?"
I nodded, then stopped with a frown, "I do, but, what if it's another thing that's slightly different? I wouldn't dare risk it, it's so specific even one word off could ruin everything."
He raised both eyebrows this time, and I shrugged again, "It's a kind of riddle, poem, verse, thing. Something about Durin's day and a thrush. I won't say any more."
"Durin's day?" he frowned, "Then we can't afford to waste time."
"No, but making mistakes wastes a lot more time than waiting for the correct answer or taking the time to do something right the first try."
He eyed me, "Very true."
I shrugged again.
For sat for another long moment in silence, and I took the chance to glance over at the door. Dwalin was standing fully in it, no doubt close enough to hear us, but still standing unwaveringly on guard. True gem, that one. Open the dictionary to 'loyalty' and it's a picture of his face. Or 'duty.' But he seems dedicated to his duty out of loyalty, so…
"I would still know the names of the three lost."
...damn.
"I'm not too sure that's wise?" I didn't meet his eyes.
He pulled my chin around again, "Wise or not, I would know, so that I may protect them more carefully."
I winced. See, about that… "And, if we can avoid the situation altogether that led to their loss, then you don't need to know? I mean, what if watching them more closely, even in prior situations, some life-saving action you took for one of the other company members before no longer happens?"
He narrowed his eyes at me, "And, what if it doesn't? I would know, Aria."
I sighed and scrubbed my hands down my face. Damn stubborn-ass dwarf. I glanced at Dwalin. Damn.
Noticing my glance, he frowned fiercely, "Dwalin?"
Said dwarf stiffened, and I was quick to shake my head, "No, no, not Dwalin. I just, uh, do you want him to know too?"
Thorin just nodded.
Whelp.
I took a deep breath, "The uh, the first was uh, was you, actually," both dwarves went still as statues, and I winced and closed my eyes, "Then, defending you, both Fili and Kili."
