Chapter 3 (Morgan)

He's pretty hot. The dwarf who calls himself Kili, who introduced me to this strange party of his, and now has commenced the immense duty of staring at me for the past hour without me noticing.

I noticed.

But I notice everything. Not to boast or anything, although I guess it's not something anyone would usually boast about, but I am unnaturally perceptive. I just like observing things. It interests me, people, the world, nature, society. Because you can't record all of it, can you, or remember it all. Everything gets forgotten. All those hundreds of thousands of people you walk past every day, the guy who winks at you on the train, or the girl in the big yellow raincoat who passes you on the street, or the baby who blinks with wide eyes and flails grubby arms about the place, catching your shoulder. You see them for a moment, and then they disappear. They aren't even a memory anymore, because you won't remember them for more than a few seconds until you see something else. All those people who pass you by, and you'll never know who they are, or where they came from, or what they're doing. It's quite sad, actually. It's like everything fails to exist in immortality. Everything is a moment, a brief glance, fleeting thought, and then oblivion. It makes me want to record it, to paint it, to see it all and not have to forget.

But I can't, so I make do with storing little observations in my head like filing papers. Only observations about people and things I have a feeling I will be around for a while. Like the strange creatures I am travelling with now. Kili in particular.

I notice him staring, of course. He isn't the first, and he won't be the last. He certainly won't be the only one around here. Everyone here stares at me, although I guess for different reasons. I suppose I do look pretty weird, here in my short dress and doc martens and denim shirt. I look young, as well. At least I appear tall. This is a phenomenon in itself, really. I'm tiny. And yet I am as tall as most of the men here. Kili, perhaps, the tallest, is maybe a few inches taller, but not much at all.

It's quite refreshing being tall actually. I can see why the humans back home liked it. I didn't mind my height, before, but now I don't ever want to go back to being the cute little blonde midget again. That gets tiring pretty quickly, and being on eye level with every man here makes me powerful. I don't look at them much, because I like seeming remote and uninterested. It's easier not to get hurt. But it's not hard to steal a few glances at the ones who attract my attention. The other tall one, Thorin, who is clearly the leader, has the same dark hair and eyes as Kili. He is older though, although not unattractive, just the sort of oldness that comes from seeing too much in a short time. Too much battle, by the looks of it. Too much fighting and death and family problems and pride issues and who even knows what else. He looks like an asshole, actually, but a wise one. A good leader. Every good leader has a bit of asshole in them. Otherwise nobody would listen to them. If you want people to follow, sometimes you've just gotta make them.

I notice the other young one, who looks about Kili's age. Maybe a little older. He seems more careful, but there is a laughing quality about his eyes I like, and the same shy boldness that seems so contradictory on Kili's features lingers in his, although it is perhaps only a ghosting imitation. I wonder briefly if they are brothers, or at least very good friends.

Then I chance a look at Kili from under my eyelashes. My head is bent, so he won't be able to see me staring. It's an unnecessary precaution though, because he's too absorbed in his own staring ventures to notice much else. He's looking at my hands I think, swaying gently at my sides. I wonder what he's seeing.

Then suddenly brown eyes are on my green ones, and although I quickly sweep my gaze back to the ground in blushing annoyance, I can tell he saw me staring. Not that he can judge. Fool hasn't taken his eyes off me this whole wretched journey. I can feel his eyes on me even now, like heat. I look back at him again, unable to stop myself this time, although I lift my head for once and unashamedly shake my hair back out of my face as I stare. I see a smile play with his lips at my so-kill-me expression. I wonder if it makes his heart stutter. I hope it does.

I'm tempted to smile back, although by now he is already fighting the smile off his face and calming his features into a mask of non-emotion. I want to say something.

But I don't.