Disclaimer: The Hobbit and its peoples and places belong to its creators. Kelda, Sitheiyra and the Skyfolk are mine.
Thank you all for the kind reviews, it means a lot to know you're enjoying my work and helps keep me motivated. You're all wonderful. :-)
This one's a bit of a filler chapter, but I hope you all like it none-the-less!
Kelda narrowed her eyes against the cold, stinging rain as she and Sitheiyra carved their way through the stormy gray sky. They'd left the rest of the company behind in the forest below to scout ahead and see if there was anyplace nearby they might be able to wait out the worst of the rain, but they'd found very little despite their efforts. There had been some old buildings several miles ahead of them, but she doubted the company would reach it before the evening; it probably wouldn't even be raining any more by that point, if she was reading the weather correctly. So it seemed that, for the time being anyway, they had no choice but to continue on being cold and wet and miserable. No doubt the others would be thrilled at the news.
They'll get over it, Sitheiyra said as she wheeled over the forest, searching the gaps in the canopy for the company. Dwarves are hardy creatures. A little rain and cold will hardly kill them.
Sure, but it might make them unbearably grouchy.
That's hardly a big deal.
Easy for you to say, it's not you they'll be grouching at, Kelda thought back to the gryphon as she leaned over a bit to look down at the treetops. Look there, Sitheiyra. Is that them? I thought I saw a flash of movement.
Ah, yes indeed. Good eyes, little one.
The Muzmulomil descended quickly, slipping through a gap in the canopy and landing hard on the muddy pathway between the trees, sending mud and water splashing up around her. She'd dropped down just in front of the company, causing the ponies to spook; no doubt it had been intentional. Sitheiyra took great amusement in startling the 'dumb pack beasts', especially since Bilbo, her initial source of entertainment, had finally stopped flinching every time the gryphon moved too quickly.
"Was that really necessary?" Thorin asked with a slight frown once he had finally calmed his mount. Kelda simply shrugged her shoulders as she and Sitheiyra came up alongside him. The skyling shook the excess water off her wings despite the fact that in a moment they'd be drenched again.
"Don't blame me. Gryphons will do as they please."
"Hmph. Did you find anything?" The dwarf's short response was indicative of the bad mood Kelda had predicted, one that had settled over the whole company and worsened the longer the rain continued.
"Unfortunately we didn't find anything close enough to be of any help, though there are a few old buildings a couple miles away we might be able to get to before nightfall, if we keep our current pace." As the company expressed their disappointment, Kelda watched a look of annoyance settle on Thorin's face and almost instantly her own mood fell a bit. "I'm sorry I don't have better news for you…"
"It's not as if you control the weather," Thorin answered gruffly, though his tone softened a bit once he looked over and saw the skyling's mildly downtrodden expression. "I do not blame you."
"I know." Kelda said to him with a small smile. It was only once he had turned his attention back to the road ahead that she sighed and shivered. Skylings weren't nearly as resilient as dwarves and the rain had soaked through all of her clothing, causing it to plaster to her skin and leaving her with a miserably persistent chill.
"Here, Mister Gandalf," Dori said from somewhere behind the soaked skyling. "Can't you do something about this deluge?"
"It is raining, Master Dwarf," the wizard answered exasperatedly. "And it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world you should find yourself another wizard."
"Are there any?" Bilbo piped up from his position further back in the line of ponies.
"What?" Gandalf replied.
"Other wizards?"
"There are five of us," Gandalf began to explain. "The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards…you know, I've quite forgotten their names."
"And who is the fifth?"
"Well that would be Radagast, the Brown."
"Is he a great wizard," Bilbo asked. "Or is he…more like you?"
Gandalf looked over his shoulder slightly at the Hobbit, seeming to be a bit offended by Bilbo's comment. Kelda snickered in laughter before she was able to stop herself, putting her hand over mouth to muffle the sound. Thorin gave her a side-long look, to which she just responded with an apologetic shrug.
"I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way." Gandalf said. "He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world."
Kelda felt another shiver crawl down her spine, though whether it was due to the rain or the wizard's words she wasn't entirely sure. The skyling knew Gandalf was always casting a wary eye across the realm in search of signs of evil and while normally she thought he was being a bit paranoid, recently she'd begun to wonder. Her sister Anayla had been having some strange dreams as of late, dreams of darkness and fire, dreams that were dripping with the overwhelming aura of ancient evil. Her sister was a skilled Seer and rarely did she mistake a mundane dream or nightmare for a vision. There seemed to be something brewing in the future. Kelda feared that maybe it had something to do with their quest, with the mountain and the dragon. Was Anayla foreseeing their doom?
Oh ye of little faith.
I know, Kelda answered Sitheiyra with a sigh. I know, I should not doubt, but I just don't see how thirteen dwarves, a wizard, a hobbit, a gryphon and a crippled skyling are going to slay Smaug. Seventeen against the malice that overthrew a great dwarf kingdom single handedly? Those are not good odds, Sith.
More often than not, if you look at any time of great change in the world, you will find that the actions of a small, dedicated group of individuals are often the cause. Sitheiyra answered sagely, opening her wings to shake the water from her dark feathers. Do not lose your faith in this quest, or in Thorin Oakenshield. He will need your stubborn loyalty before the end.
Kelda flicked her wingtips as she thought over the gryphon's words, giving the dwarf beside her a covert glance; even when he was sopping wet Thorin looked every bit the king, riding with his back straight, broad shoulders back, eyes forward. That small frown of annoyance still resided on his face, but did little to mar his ruggedly handsome features. Long strands of his black hair clung to his face and neck, accentuating the strong shape of his jaw. Kelda began to lift her hand to brush the wet strands back from his face, but froze in her motion once she realized what she was doing and dropped her hand quickly back into her lap, hoping nobody noticed.
The skyling listened for a moment, breathing a small sigh of relief when the few conversations she did hear had nothing to do with her or what she was doing; for the most part the company was once again travelling in muted, depressed silence, the rain leaving them in no mood for idle talk. It gave Kelda time to berate herself for what she had almost done. Thorin was a dwarf, and a royal dwarf at that. She couldn't just go and touch his hair without permission, it was an intimate act in dwarvish culture and she had no right to do it. She wasn't his wife. Really, she wasn't quite sure what she was to him. They hadn't really figured that out just yet. She had to start thinking before she acted or else she'd do something to embarrass herself and Thorin.
He is not off limits, you know. Kelda heard Sitheiyra say after a moment, the gryphon glancing back at the skyling over her shoulder. You would not be embarrassing him by showing your affection; the rest of the company already knows of his feelings for you. It is simply your feelings for him that they are unsure of.
How could they possibly know anything? It's not as if he treats me any different than he does any other member of the company. The gryphon's laughter echoed through Kelda's mind, confusing her and making her frown. What's so funny?
I am sorry, little one, but sometimes you can be so blind. Sitheiyra answered with fond amusement. Though I do suppose he does his best to make certain you're not looking when he stares at you like you're made of solid gold.
He does not.
On my honor, the gryphon answered simply.
Kelda fidgeted in the saddle, drumming her fingernails nervously on the saddle horn before glancing over at Thorin again. If the rest of the company already knew of their king's affections and intentions, would it be so bad if they knew her's? The skyling turned her gaze forward, looking on down the path as she tried to gather the courage to reach out again. She twitched her wings nervously, trying to disguise the motion as an attempt to rid her feathers of rainwater, before flexing her fingers and beginning to raise her hand.
"Kelda?"
Startled by Gandalf suddenly calling to her, Kelda snatched her hand back, frustration and annoyance with herself and the interruption bubbling up in her chest. The fact that Kelda thought she saw a small smile pull at Thorin's lips as she turned to look back at Gandalf didn't help her nerves, either.
"Yes, good sir wizard?" She answered with a well practiced casual demeanor, looking at him as if he hadn't obviously startled her. "What can I do for you?"
"It has been quite some time since I've heard your enchanting voice," the wizard said with a pleasant smile. "Would you perhaps be willing to sing us a song? It might help to lift the spirits and combat the dreariness of this storm."
"You know that's not a good idea, Gandalf-"
"Ah, come now lass, we've all heard stories of the soaring voices and mystifying dances of the Sky Folk," Bofur said, gesturing toward Balin and Thorin to suggest they'd been the ones to tell said stories. "We'd like to hear for ourselves. Please, let's have us a song."
"No, you don't understand," Kelda said with a sigh. "It's not that I don't wish to sing for you, it's just that it's not safe."
"Not safe?" Fili said as he looked at Kelda like what she'd said was absurd. "It's a song, how is singing a song unsafe?"
"The Sky Folk sing their enchantments and dance their battle spells, Master Fili," Gandalf said, answering for Kelda. "Their magic is in their voices and their motions. When they wish to weave an enchantment they will sing, and the world responds to them. Their voices will often have a bewitching effect on those who hear it unless they are protected. In this case, however, there is little cause for concern as I am more than capable of guarding against the bewitchment for the time being. It is more than safe, Lady Mage, for you to sing a song if you so wish."
Perhaps you should consider it, Sitheiyra said, shuffling her wings and chirping encouragingly. It may help them to gain some immunity to your bewitchment if they hear, so that it will not affect them should there be a battle. Besides, you know how your Mountain King used to enjoy listening to you sing.
I suppose you're right, Kelda answered the gryphon, before speaking out loud to the others. "Oh, very well then, a song it is. Let's see, what song to do, so many to choose from…"
Kelda pondered the question for a moment. It wasn't normal for the Sky Folk to sing idly; their singing voices were so heavily laced with magic that they rarely sang unless it was necessary. When they did sing for pleasure, however, they sang of their current emotions, a song that reflected what they were thinking and feeling. Most of the company didn't know that and wouldn't know the difference and those who did, namely Gandalf, Balin, Dwalin and Thorin, weren't likely to call her out on it. So, she decided to risk it and sing from her heart.
"Just give me your hand,
Balakhjum e rathkhmêzu.
Just give me your hand
And I'll walk with you,
Through the streets of our land,
Through the mountains so grand.
If you give me your hand.
Just give me your hand,
And come along with me.
Will you give me your hand,
And the world it can see,
That we can be free,
In peace and harmony?
From the north to the south.
From the east to the west.
Every mountain, every valley,
Every bush and bird's nest!
By day and by night,
Through all struggle and strife,
And beside you, to guide you,
Forever, my love.
For love's not for one,
But for both of us to share.
For our kingdom so fair,
For our world and what's there."
As Kelda sang the whole of the world seemed to stop to listen to her clear, lilting voice. The ponies grew quiet, the forest went still and even the sound of the rain seemed to grow dim in the wake of the skyling's song. Around the company the air seemed to shimmer, the raindrops shining like little jewels as they fell and as Kelda continued her song her companions listened in utter silence, a strange thing for the normally loud and lively group of dwarves.
"Just give me your hand,
Balakhjum e rathkhmêzu.
Just give me your hand,
For the world it is ours.
All the sea and the land,
To destroy or command,
If you give me your hand.
Just give me your hand,
In a gesture of peace.
Will you give me your hand
And all troubles will cease,
For the strong and the weak,
For the rich and the poor?
All peoples and creeds,
Let's meet their needs.
With a passion, we can fashion,
A new world of love!
By day and by night,
Through all struggle and strife,
And beside you, to guide you,
Forever, my love.
For love's not for one,
But for both of us to share.
For our kingdom so fair,
For our world and what's there."
A silence fell after Kelda's last lingering note faded away and for a moment all that could be heard was the soft pattering of the rain and the sound of the ponies' hooves splashing over the muddy path. The skyling thought she heard Gandalf hum in pleased satisfaction, but the sound was so quiet she thought she might have imagined it. Kelda began to worry; had she perhaps bewitched them despite Gandalf's assurance that he could protect them from it? Did she have to sing a counter-spell in order to release them from it?
"By Mahal, I'd forgotten," Dwalin breathed, finally breaking the silence; Kelda let out a quiet sigh of relief at the sound of his voice. At the very least that meant she wouldn't have to try and break a bewitchment on the fly, as she wasn't that great at such counter-enchantments at the best of times. Being a war mage came with its disadvantages. Powerful as she was at battle and defensive magic, the simple enchantments that took her cousin or uncle a few moments could take her an hour to complete. Though she supposed she was better off than her sister; Anayla, as a Seer, had a difficult time with both enchantments and battle magic, the price to pay for seeing visions of the future.
"And here I had thought the tales were exaggerated," Bofur said with a shake of his head. "I've been proven entirely wrong; that was quite a thing."
"I thank you for your kind words, master dwarf," Kelda said with a slight smile, looking back at Bofur as she did. "But I hardly have the best voice among my people; you should hear my little cousin Amva. She could sing the scales off a dragon."
"Amva is quite good, that is true, but I am of the belief that these gentlemen would prefer your voice over her's," Kelda heard the wizard say. "You've a far more dwarvish style to your songs than your fellows."
Kelda merely shrugged in response, not entirely sure she agreed with Gandalf's assessment. She had never considered herself the most talented spell-singer of her family. She was far more skilled at the dances of battle; she much preferred kicking up flames under heels than bringing on peace with a song.
"Perhaps you'll grace us with a dance, later," Thorin added nonchalantly after a moment, as if reading her mind. An impish smile pulled at Kelda's lips as she looked over at the dwarf riding along beside her.
"Well, I don't know. What's in it for me?"
"What's in it for you?"
"That's right," the skyling said cheerfully, her wings shuffling in a playful display. "What's it worth to you?"
"You will have my…undying gratitude," Thorin said after a moment, the statement almost sounding like a question. Sitheiyra chirruped in amusement as Kelda leaned back slightly in the saddle, as if contemplating the dwarf's answer.
"The undying gratitude of a dwarf king, hmm? That's not a bad offer, I suppose," Kelda said thoughtfully before once again sitting up straight. She shrugged her shoulders. "Sitheiyra and I will have to think about it while we scout ahead."
Without so much as another word Sitheiyra, who was more than willing to play along with her skyling's silly games, snapped her wings open and launched herself up off the ground. As the two of them shot through an opening in the trees, Kelda heard Balin say, "Ah, laddie, you should have said strawberries."
Khuzdul translations:
Balakhjum e rathkhmêzu- Just give me your hand
Disclaimer: The song in this chapter isn't mine, sadly. It's an old Irish folk song from the early 17th century called Give Me Your Hand by Ruaidri Dáll Ó Catháin, that I like a lot and I thought it fit with the story and chapter. I just changed the Irish Gaelic lines to Khuzdul.