A/N; Probably the last week of super fast updates. I'll probably still update in December (if you want me to! xD), but not as fast…
Once again, thank you to all my reviewers. ^^
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When Arya woke the next day, she stared at the ceiling with a dismal expression. Wordlessly, she gripped the sheets and closed her eyes.
Faolin.
He was a pleasant thought to think about, yet right now, it was the thought of him that made her want to break down and cry—though she couldn't.
She wouldn't.
By now, he was probably long gone from the Varden, speeding back to Du Weldenvarden. Going away from the Varden and away from danger.
Away from her.
She couldn't help it; a tear trickled down her cheek, trailing down her sharp features and coming to rest at her chin. She remained that way for a while, unmoving.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes leapt from the bed with an art of grace. She moved about in a languid manner for a few moments before abruptly snapping out of her trance-like state with a harsh word or two against herself said in her mind. All of a sudden, her actions were performed with a crisp fluidity, and she appeared to be herself.
Even if I do not feel like it inside, Arya thought to herself, I can still pretend.
This thought, for some odd reason, reassured her—as if by feigning her contentedness, she could actually truly feel it.
Bathing in the water left for her, she shuddered when the cool liquid touched her skin. When she was done, she dried herself off and dressed in a crimson tunic along with a pair of her customary leggings. She stepped in to her boots at the exact moment a timid knock was placed on her door. She waited for a few moments and collected herself fully. With that, she opened the door.
"M-my lady."
"Loraes," Arya greeted, putting on a face that hopefully showed that she was going to be relatively amiable today. This expression, however, obviously did nothing to ease Loraes's discomfort and fear of her.
"I—I am… to take you t—to… to Brom," Loraes stammered out, peering up at Arya. His bangs fell in to his eyes, and he looked rather flustered as he pushed the locks of chocolate brown hair away from being able to obstruct his view. "So… follow me, if you will," he added awkwardly before turning and beginning to walk away.
Arya, despite herself, gave a slight smile as she followed.
"Loraes," she asked, attempting to be conversational, though she knew that she, nor Loraes, was quite in the mood for any talk. Arya knew, however, that she had to keep her mind thinking of something else—preferably engaged in conversation. "How long have you been here in the Varden?" she asked, eyes flickering up to the small boy.
"All m'life… Ah, sorry… my life," Loraes answered, unsure. He glanced over his shoulder at her, and by accident met Arya's gaze. He quickly ducked his head, and through the faint torchlight, Arya detected a hint of a flush spreading across the boy's cheeks.
"Yes?" Arya murmured, mulling this over for a few moments. It was rather sad, this—the boy did not know any world outside of the enclosed world of the Varden. "And how long is that?" she continued to ask, walking along.
Loraes remained silent for a moment before answering. "Eleven years tomorrow, my lady," he said.
"Eleven years," Arya repeated, her voice echoing slightly off of the walls as they continued walking. "Have you ever been outside of the Beor Mountains?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.
"The Beor Mountains… I do not believe I have ever been outside of Tronjheim, much less the mountains, my lady," Loraes remarked.
This prospect caused Arya's mental jaw to drop even further. Never outside of Tronjheim?, Arya thought to herself, still staring at the shaggy brown mop bobbing up and down in front of her, and once more, the maternal instinct to ruffle the boy's hair came back. She fought it down, but not before she reached out a hand to do so. She pulled back, and halted for a minute. Loraes stopped when he realized that Arya's light footsteps ceased, and he unwillingly looked around at her.
"Nothing," Arya responded to the unvoiced question that Loraes shot at her with his expression. "Proceed." Loraes needed no more encouragement; he continued on at a brisk pace.
"I leave you here, ma'am," Loraes suddenly stated after a while more of walking in a monotone silence. Arya looked up, and, indeed, Brom was standing right in front of them.
"Thank you, Loraes," Brom told the boy, and gave him a nod. With that, Loraes turned and darted out of sight, almost faster than Arya could follow him.
Turning his eyes back on to Arya, Brom greeted her with a nod and gestured for her to follow. Not much of a morning salutation, but Arya was used to getting just that from Brom—it was normal. In some ways, she liked that about him—the fact that he did not treat her like someone with extreme levels of royalty. In his book, though an elf was of a different race, all races alike, whether human, elf, or dwarf, had similar minds.
And the Ra'zac did not count, though, of course, it was possible that they too had minds similar to the rest of them. Possible? Yes. Probable? No.
"Where are we going?" Arya asked, once more resigning herself to follow someone who obviously knew how to navigate the halls better. She made a mental note to herself to try to pick out a few landmarks in order to help find her own way around by herself if necessary.
"To meet some dwarves," was Brom's response. "It's too bad that Faolin already—" Brom cut himself off here with a swift cough, which was credibly well performed, though Arya could tell that it was fake in order to mask what he had been about to say.
"Dwarves?" Arya asked, her voice ringing out as if she were excited. In truth, she was rather thrilled at the idea of seeing real live dwarves, although the fact that Faolin was not here loomed over her like a storm cloud considerably.
"Yes," Brom said simply, walking along with a nonchalant demeanor. Arya saw this, and saw how casual he looked. With that observation, she herself attempted to copy how Brom executed his movements—without allowing Brom to see, which was, frankly, quite difficult, as Brom was very observant.
"Ah, Brom, punctual as usual. I like that in a man!"
A voice caused Arya to jerk her head up as it interrupted her thoughts. At first, she could not find where the voice came from, but saw that if she looked down slightly, the voice came from a perfectly normal source. Or, as normal as a dwarf could get.
As she and Brom neared, Arya scrutinized the dwarf. The first thing she noticed about him was the obvious thing: his height. He stood about three feet, and it was rather difficult for her to comprehend the height factor by itself.
"Yes, lass, I know. I'm short, short, short, but I guess there's nothing you can do about that, eh? In fact, maybe I'm not short… maybe you're just tall," the dwarf proclaimed cheerfully. Though his words could be taken as an offense, the way he said them simply made Arya have to crack a smile.
"Ah, there you go! You look so much more chipper with a smile on your pretty little face!"
Arya threw a glance at Brom, and he, in turn, answered with a sheepish grin before speaking. "Arya, this is Orik Thrifksson. You could say he is a representative of the dwarves, though the dwarves inhabit all of the Beor Mountains. He is, in fact, the nephew of his dwarf majesty King Hrothgar."
Arya nodded and made sure that she stored this information in her mind firmly. That just shows you how much you should not cross him, she thought to herself seriously, the smile wiping off of her face. Though she had not expected to have to deal with other royalty, she now saw that this was the inevitable.
Examining Orik with a critical eye, the next thing their jade depths fell upon was the dwarf's beard. It certainly was… extensive. At this, Arya raised an eyebrow, though she quickly allowed it to fall in case Orik felt as if she were disgracing his presence. After living and coping with her mother… Arya knew how touchy monarchs, or at least, relatives to monarchs, could be.
Am I example of that?, she thought to herself briefly, then erased the thought.
"Well, go on then, lass. What's your name?" Orik asked, a grin widespread across his face, so infectious that once more, Arya felt her lips curve in to a delicately placed smile.
"Arya," she answered, and her tone came out a bit colder than she would have liked. Still, she had given him the information he had wanted, and it seemed as if he had not detected upon the icy tone placed in her voice.
"Pretty name, that is, yep, yep, yep," Orik said, and he took a step forward and extended his hand for a handshake. Just as Arya was about to accept this token of greeting, Orik stumbled and reached out a hand to steady himself. He grabbed Arya's waist, and she immediately tensed. As she did so, however, she felt like laughing at herself for this; of course Orik would reach out to grab her waist instead of her shoulder—after all, he was a dwarf. And she… well, she was a tall elf.
Brom leaned in toward Arya's ear and eyes flickering toward Orik, he gave a slight chuckle before opening his mouth to say something. "Dwarves are a little… over fond of their drink, shall we say," he whispered before pulling away and looking down at Orik, mirth dancing merrily through his eyes.
"Hey, hey, now! Secretive people are not very well respected among dwarves!" Orik called out, obviously miffed that he was not tall enough to lean over and eavesdrop on the conversation going on above him. Arya and Brom simply stared back down at him, and Orik raised an eyebrow in a wordless challenge.
"He really is more respectful and level-headed when he hasn't had a couple of drinks prior to meeting and greeting someone… I apologize for this," Brom told Arya, a groan hinting behind his words. "I really did tell him to not…" Brom trailed off here, and this time, he groaned out loud.
With that, Orik stumbled and fell to the ground, though he was not hurt. He began snoring rather loudly, and Arya winced at the sound of it.
"What do we do now?" she asked, gesturing toward the sleeping dwarf.
Brom looked up and raised an eyebrow as if what he was about to say was the most obvious thing in the world.
"We wait."