Disclaimer: The Hobbit and its places and people belong to its creators. Kelda, Sitheiyra and the Skyfolk belong to me.
That was how they remained for days, the company on the ground while Kelda and Sitheiyra soared in the skies above them. The skyling and her gryphon came down only to report obstacles or to join the others in camp for the night. They traveled without incident, crossing over rolling emerald hills, where the flying pair could see for miles around as they circled overhead. The air was warm, the sky was clear and the clouds were so high that they seemed impossible to reach, like the wisps of forgotten dreams. They flew their highest, higher than any bird, going up until they felt the air turn cold. Kelda would find herself wondering if the others below could see them when they ascended that high and if they couldn't, did they worry? Did they even notice? Or did they never bother to even look up, to search for the black form of the Muzmulomil in the sky?
You say them. You mean him. Sitheiyra would say when the thought crossed Kelda's mind. She never bothered to answer. It's not as if she could deny it; the gryphon knew her every thought.
Sitheiyra would dive then, once she reached the height of her climb. She would fold her wings and fall like a rock as Kelda held on. The skyling would lean forward to become more streamline, to the point that they may as well have been one single being, instead of two. They could hear nothing but the screaming of the wind in their ears, a sound that would be unnerving to most but was natural and comforting to them. Colors would blend and the world spun and pure joy would fill their chests as the ground grew ever closer, a spinning mixture of browns and greens.
It was a game, to see how close to the ground they could get before Sitheiyra would shift her tail-feathers, change their direction and throw her wings open, pulling up sharply so they would once again fly parallel with the ground. Kelda would hold out her hand and let the tops of the tall grass drag against her fingers as they passed. Sometimes she would reach out and snatch Gandalf's hat from his head as they flew so closely over the company that Sitheiyra could have slapped them with the tips of her wings or her paws if she wasn't careful. Kelda would laugh in delight at the wizard's expression, lightly dropping the large hat back on his head the next time they passed over. Other times she would drop it on somebody else's head, 'accidentally'. While most of the company would laugh and shout, trying to cajole Sitheiyra into attempting to snatch one of them up instead of a little hat, Thorin more often than not would glower at the gryphon and the skyling, ordering them to stop fooling around and being reckless. Kelda took to affectionately calling him 'Master Killjoy Oakenshield' and showering him in flower petals and 'borrowed' hats from above as a result.
The farther east they traveled, the more forested and rocky the terrain became until finally Thorin insisted on Kelda and Sitheiyra remaining with the rest of them on the ground. He wanted to keep the company together, he said, and could not risk losing sight of them through the trees. Kelda argued at first, as she was known to do; she and Sitheiyra were more useful scouting in the air. She was not a child any longer, she reminded the surly royal dwarf, and she did not need his constant protection. She and her gryphon were more than capable of protecting themselves. This, of course, only caused Thorin to become irritated and stubborn, assuring Kelda that what he'd said was not a suggestion.
He worries, Sitheiyra said. Kelda rolled her eyes, thinking Thorin was being ridiculous and telling him as much, but still she relented and they once again began traveling with the others on the ground, though for a while after their argument the skyling mage refused to speak to Thorin in any way. In truth, though, neither skyling nor gryphon minded traveling with the rest of the group. They enjoyed the company of the dwarves and the wizard. Even Bilbo Baggins, in his ever constant politeness, began to grow on them. His curiosity seemed endless and as they went along, when she wasn't bullshitting with Fili and Kili, or conversing with various dwarves, Kelda willingly fielded the hobbit's multitude of questions.
"Kelda, do all of the Sky Folk have wings like yours?" Bilbo asked one night as he sat in camp watching the skyling exercise her wings, as she did every night and morning. Kelda flapped her wings hard, sending up a light cloud of dust from the rocky outcropping they camped on.
"Indeed. There wouldn't be much logic in calling us Sky Folk otherwise," she answered without looking at him. She frowned as she shook her wings out briefly before once again beating them against the air, putting every ounce of her strength and concentration into the action in an attempt to get herself off of the ground. All she got for her effort was a face full of dust, aching muscles and burning frustration.
"Do Sky Folk use their wings to fly?"
"No. We use them to swim. Like fish." The skyling replied with acerbic sarcasm, her frustration with herself coming out in her answer to Bilbo. What kind of question was that, anyway? What else would one use wings for? The hobbit rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, you're right. That's a rather silly question, isn't it? It's just…I've never seen you fly. Not without Sitheiyra, at least."
Kelda's first instinct was to snap at the halfling, to say something sharp and nasty so he would stop asking questions. She bit her tongue, though, and instead remained silent, staring out at the last remaining colors that graced the sky from the setting sun.
"You can't fly, can you?" She heard Fili say and quite suddenly she was excruciatingly aware of the eyes of nearly everyone in the camp on her. The skyling wasn't sure why it bothered her so much there amongst the dwarves. In most cases she was able to answer questions about her disability easily, without emotion. Perhaps it was the fact that the opinions of the company mattered to her that made it so much more difficult.
"No." She finally managed to say, feeling like she was choking on the word.
"Why not?" Ori asked.
"That's not your business," she heard Dori reply sharply in response to the youngest dwarf's question. Kelda shook her head and turned to look at the dwarves with a casual smile and a shrug of her shoulders, the expression looking quite natural despite the fact that it was forced.
"No, it's alright. It's not as if I haven't had to answer the question before-"
"It's the damage you took from dragon fire when Smaug attacked Erebor, isn't it?" Kili asked. "That's why you can't fly, right?"
"You were there?" Bilbo said, looking at Kelda in surprise.
"I-"
"Aye, she was there," Nori said before Kelda could get a word out. "She grew up in the mountain, was there when it fell."
"You saw the dragon?" Bilbo asked curiously. Kelda sighed and opened her mouth to speak but was once again cut off before she could utter a sound.
"Oh, she didn't just see the dragon. She survived his flame." Bofur said, leaning forward a bit. "Luck was with her that day, shielded her from doom."
"I've heard it was the Sky Folk's beloved Sky God himself, took pity and paused in his mischief to beat back the dragon's fire so she might survive."
"That's not what I heard!"
At this chaos erupted, all the dwarves starting to talk over one another as they each tried to set the record straight with their own version of events. The skyling balked, the conversation suddenly having taken a turn for the worst. She saw Thorin pause in his separate conversation with Gandalf and turn his head slightly to look over his shoulder at them, assessing the situation.
"That's enough," Thorin said, his voice cutting clearly through the noise and causing everyone to fall immediately quiet. "You'll attract every predator within ten miles with that racket. Bombur, finish the food, we need to eat."
The company now cowed and quiet, Kelda took the opportunity to slink away to where Sitheiyra lay on the other side of the camp. The gryphon nuzzled the skyling affectionately, making a purr of reassurance. Kelda just sat down, resting her face in her hands and hoping that maybe if she just sat there quietly she'd disappear.
Kelda stayed like that for a while, until a whistle from Sitheiyra and the sound of approaching footsteps alerted her to another presence. She glanced up in time to see Bilbo sit down by her, his face apprehensive.
"Can I…can I ask what actually happened?"
Kelda sighed, keeping her eyes on the fire burning in the center of the camp. She was keenly aware of the silence that had fallen; the others were listening, waiting to see what she would say. Kelda had never spoken to anyone outside of her own family about the exact events that led to her scarring. She'd been told on several occasions that maybe telling the story would help her nightmares and panic attacks, but she could never quite bring herself to give voice to the images that still haunted her.
"It was her brother who shielded her from the flame," someone answered in her stead. Kelda and Bilbo both looked up to find Thorin standing before them. Thorin's expression was stonily serious, as it normally seemed to be. Kelda had often remarked that the frown he wore would become permanent if he didn't do something about it, a comment which he generally ignored. She made no such joke this time as she looked at him, standing there in front of her with two bowls of stew in his hands. Not when he had come to rescue her from the sore topic for the second time that night. He handed Kelda one of the bowls, which she gingerly took from him, and then the dwarf turned and walked away without another word. Kelda watched him walk to the other side of the camp, where he sat upon a rock against the cliff side and began eating his own dinner. The skyling dropped her silvery gaze to her bowl of stew, though she made no immediate attempt to eat it.
"I didn't know you had a brother," Kelda heard Kili say, breaking the quiet that had fallen over the camp.
"His name was Shalix," Kelda answered after a short moment. She chanced a quick glance up at the people with her; most of the dwarves were eating, though no doubt they were listening. Others, namely Fili, Kili and Ori, were looking at her with interest. She could not find one ounce of ill-intent in those gathered there, no evidence of judgment towards her. Perhaps it was that which allowed her to feel comfortable enough to continue. "He was my older brother. He was the pride of the family; most powerful War-Mage to have ever come from our line, the first to have gained the Mantle of the Sky from Lopti himself since Réalta."
"Who is Lopti?" Ori asked curiously.
"Lopti is the patron deity of the Sky Folk," Gandalf answered sagely. "He embodies mischief, chaos and the sky and is an agent of change. It is said that Lopti's Mantle grants the one who holds it the ability to bring the sky's wrath down upon his or her enemies."
"That's right. The wielder of the Mantle has a direct line to Lopti," Kelda said in agreement, her gaze back on her stew as she pushed her food around the bowl with her spoon. "Shalix was the first of our people to have earned the Mantle since the ancient times. He…he died to Smaug's flame, because I failed to defend the King Under the Mountain and his grandson as I should-"
"Lady Mage," Balin said interrupted gently, causing Kelda to glance up at him. "I'm sorry, but that is not quite the account I've been told of those events. As I've heard it, you were just as much the reason for the survival of King Thror and Thorin as your brother was. When Thorin ran back into Erebor to get Thror, you, who had become as much a part of that family as he was, did not hesitate to follow. You and your young gryphon were there to help him pull the king from the treasure, to try and move him from Smaug's path. And when the fire-drake turned his fury on you, when you all should have perished in flame, initially it was you who shielded them from that doom. You, a mageling of only nineteen years, barely come into your power, threw yourself against that wyrm's might despite knowing you could not hold it off long. You did not relent as the flame began to burn through your power, nor even when it consumed your wings and very nearly you in your entirety. Your brother died an honorable death, no one will ever deny that, but had it not been for your efforts he would have had nothing but ash to defend."
"That's quite the flight of fancy, like the beginning of some old legend," Kelda answered, doing her best to sound indifferent as she forced herself to eat her stew. She had no real appetite, having lost it sometime during the conversation, but she needed an excuse not to look at the gathered dwarves. "Whoever told you that must not have seen things as clearly as they thought they did."
"I saw clearly enough," came Thorin's deep voice from across the camp. Kelda refused to give in to the urge to look up at the dwarf prince, deliberately ignoring his answer and its implications. Judging by the way he continued speaking without a pause, he hadn't expected her to respond either way. "It's time for sleep; we'll be starting again at daybreak. Fili, Kili, you take watch."
These dwarves are not going to allow you to continue to believe the lies about yourself that the Elders have made you believe as truth, little one. Sitheiyra said approvingly as the company began to settle down for the night. Kelda made no answer as she shifted herself against the gryphon's warm flank. You cannot tell false tales to those who were there and experienced the events for themselves.
I do not need Thorin Oakenshield to tell me the truth about myself, Sitheiyra. No dwarf knows me better than I do.
Kelda stretched out on the cold ground, her back against Sitheiyra, and closed her eyes, having no intention of discussing the matter any further. The Muzmulomil sighed wearily at her skyling's stubbornness before curling herself protectively around the little woman and resting her head on her paws.
In this case, Kelda, I am quite certain that you are wrong.