Unfortunately, I have just realized an appallingly obvious similarity between my story and Race Against Time by Italian Hobbit. I saw some drawings on deviantart which were inspired by her story (which I hadn't read until recently) and the artwork kind of inspired the turn in my story a few chapters in...rather than have it be canon and having them haul unconscious Kili around, which is what I was originally going to do. So no, I'm not ripping off anybody's story. Or at least, not trying to.
As promised, if any of you are following my other story, here's an update (duh). It's amazing how much I can procrastinate when I really don't have the time.
I think I might need a beta...I don't know how to make my chapters longer without adding in a bunch of flowery wording and crap that isn't central to the point.
Thank you to all my readers, even if you don't review. But I wish you would! It feeds the creativity demon...beast...thing. :)
Oh, God, I'm turning into Pippin.
Arwen was very gracious and accompanied me to dinner. She even introduced me properly to her father, Lord Elrond before I took my place with the rest of the company. Thankfully, she did not tell him about the fiddle, or what she'd learned about dwarves. I was glad to have an ally here, even a very young one.
"I have news of your brother," Elrond said to me. Obviously the fact that I had befriended his daughter left an impression on him. "There are…complications. The healers were wondering if you knew anything more of his condition. They wish to speak with you after the meal."
"Complications…" I wondered. Then I remembered. The blood. I had not told anyone about him coughing up blood. "With your permission, my lord, I'd best go now. It could save his life."
"You have my leave," he said, inclining his head in a slight bow. Calling for a steward, he instructed that I be led up to the healing chambers to confer with the healer in charge. I was led through winding corridors of white marble, up stairs, down passageways, until we had reached a large, semi-enclosed porch in a tower. The steward led me inside, and I all but dropped into a nearby chair at the sight of my brother.
A heap of bloody sheets and bandages were being removed from the bed. He was clean, at least, and bandaged. His arm was set more firmly in a better sling, but his complexion was greyish and sickly, and did not appear to be breathing. Without thinking, I hurried to his bedside. Up close, he looked worse. Eyes sunken in their sockets, cheekbones more visible than they had ever been. He hadn't been wasting away when we'd left with him on the stretcher.
"What have you done?" I demanded, a bit more harshly than I'd intended. "Why is he so thin?"
The dark-haired healer turned to me. "His tissues were all filling with blood. We had to drain them." he explained.
"His lungs…" I trailed. "His lungs were filling with blood too. He was coughing it up the night before we left…I thought he would die."
"You're his brother?" the elf asked.
"Yes. I'm Fili."
"I'm sorry you must go through this," he said. "But he may not survive. Even with what we can do, he's lost a lot of blood. It doesn't replenish as fast in dwarves. We've had to alter our treatments, making them less effective."
"Does Thorin know this?" I questioned, touching Kili's near-lifeless hand.
"Not to this extent. We were still in the process when he asked after him." the healer continued. "I intend to notify Thorin after dinner. I suggest you join him. Sitting here worrying won't do your brother any good."
Before I could protest, the steward had me by the arm and was steering me back down the hall. My patience was wearing thin. I would've liked to scream in his face, tell him that I'd rather be with Kili and starve than have to endure another second surrounded by people. There would undoubtedly be questions, and my mask of strength would not hold out much longer. I hated feeling so helpless, but there really was nothing I could do.
I guess I could have asked to be led back to my room, but my absence would be noticed and Thorin would unleash his wrath on me for annoying Kili and the healers with useless fretting and questions. I sat through dinner and the various salads without complaint, dodging curious glances and comments from the others.
A chance meeting with Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, afforded some distraction for a few hours. Elrohir challenged me to a game of chess while I plied them with questions of what exactly elf parents told their children about dwarves.
"According to Arwen, we drink our enemies' blood to bolster our strength and Mahal knows whatever else." I laughed forcibly. I knew I was setting myself up to be offended, but I didn't care. I'd rather this than think about what was going on upstairs. Besides, I was genuinely curious. And amused.
"Oh, some visitors from Mirkwood started that," explained Elladan offhandedly, hoping I'd drop the subject. I could tell he was uncomfortable, telling this to a dwarf. "It's really stupid, actually. King Whatsisname who rides that deer thing…"
"Thranduil," Elrohir interrupted. "And I think it's an elk."
"Thranduil and his elk," Elladan continued. "came calling, and his charming son decided to gather all the young ones around and tell them horrible tales of the savage dwarves of Erebor and how they got their just reward, fleeing to who knows where with their tails between their legs."
They were friendly enough, but at the mention of Thranduil—although I did get a laugh out of "King Whatsisname who rides that deer thing"—my hands clenched into fists. It was a good thing all my weapons were safely in a wardrobe upstairs, or the map directly behind Elrohir's head would have become a target for my throwing knives, with Mirkwood as the bull's eye.
"So," I pried, the corner of my mouth quirking up in a grin. "What are these horror stories, anyway?" They glanced uncomfortably at each other. "It's all right. I won't be offended. I'm just wondering how many of these I can disprove!"
"Well…." Elrohir dawdled. "If you're sure…."
"Dwarves eat the children of Men who wander into their midst," Elladan broke in gleefully. "The ones who are lucky are traded as slaves. They're cantankerous and stubborn and cheat the people they trade with."
"And they don't bathe," Elrohir added.
"Well, that's a lie," I said flippantly. "I bathed just today. And we're just like any other folk—we may not be quick to trust, but we judge people on character. If we think someone is being dishonest with us, why not return the favor?" I asked, feeling prankish, but stopping when I noticed their eyebrows raised in horror.
"And….?" Elladan continued.
"And we don't eat people, or sell them as slaves. Especially not children! Children are precious to us. There aren't many dwarf women, you see, and contrary to popular belief, we don't just spring out of holes in the ground!"
They snorted with laughter in reply, and Elrohir suggested we go up to see Kili because I was obviously just trying to distract myself. How could I tell them distraction was exactly what I needed, and reality that I feared?
Yaaay! Hopefully this chapter was better than the last. And to think I finished writing it with a migraine...
Anyway, R&R and virtual brownies shall abound! ;)
-S. S.