Chapter Four
A Shattered Soul
It is a curious thing, reason. It can end and begin kingdoms, civilizations, relationships, families. Even lives. What could be considered the greatest gift of Man, Elf, Dwarf- the creatures that dwelt under the bright sun of Middle Earth-, could also be considered a curse, since more than half the time the ending result of whatever was being reasoned turned out badly anyways. Reason was not steadfast, either. Ever changing, shaping, morphing into a different form for each circumstance presented. This kaleidoscope of constant change could very easily prove to be the downfall of man. Or, the savior.
Fili stood, frozen as the dark blood of the man lying before him began to pool and lap sluggishly at the tips of his boots. His eyes lowered slightly, so that he was not staring directly at the girl, nor completely away from her: somewhere in-between. From his peripherals he could see the poor thing's hand shaking, her grasp around the knife tighter than a snake constricting it's prey. Fili's breath was coming slow and deliberate, his mind working a mile a minute, thinking, thinking- trying to work out what to do, and how best to do it. This was no situation to be taken lightly, he rationalized with himself. Fili's eyes were distant, mind locked in an internal battle of reasoning with himself.
If he moved fast enough- quick enough that she wouldn't have time to move, or even realize what he was doing- then he could disarm her swiftly. Then again, what if she didn't intend to hurt him at all with the knife? What if she really was warning him to stay away, or else she'd kill herself? It was a horrible thought, and yet possible all the same, Fili knew. The blood beneath him now was engulfing his shoes, sealing him within a sanguine lake of gore swiftly. With the most cautious of glances towards the poor girl upon the bed, who still bared the dagger before her threateningly, Fili released his grip on his daggers, dropping them unceremoniously to the floor before putting his hands up slowly.
"I mean you no harm," He said softly, taking a slow step to the left, out of the enclosing pool of blood, his boots pressing gory patterns into the dull floorboards. Instantly the girl reacted, a panicked whimper escaping her lips as she flung herself backwards, tumbling like a flash of lightning to the other side of the bed, where she sat, the blanket huddled around her front piteously. Her fist tightened harshly around the handle of the knife, knuckles a ghostly white as a trickle of blood from a cut on her palm snaked its way down her forearm to drip onto the mattress. Her hand shook- no, her whole body, eyes wide with fright at the possibility that her last defense wasn't working, and instantly Fili was struck with compassion. This girl had been through much, it seemed, and while he was admittedly not well versed in dealing with situations such as this, a part of Fili told him that it was far more serious than he'd originally imagined.
A flash of brown caught Fili's eye, distracting him from his contemplation, and he was certain that the girl had heard his sharp intake of breath. Her hair was dark brown, hanging in dirty tendrils about her face. Once, Fili imagined, it had been long, flowing, shining- something beautiful. But now... It reminded him of Kili, in a way. The hair was much longer than his little brothers, and yet something about the way it fell into her eyes as she glowered at him caused his heart to constrict with horror.
What if this were Kili?
This poor girl, so alone in the world, so utterly lost- she must have once had a family, a loving mother and father, a dog who would curl up beside her on cold nights. Perhaps even a sibling or two, who were ripping their hair from their heads at this very moment, so angered and horrified that their beloved sister had- was- Fili swallowed, exhaling shakily. He understood, if only a bit more after his revelation, how this situation must be handled. How he would want another to handle it, if he were in this girl's siblings place. Fili found the girl's eyes, holding her gaze as he slowly sank to the floor. He took care to keep his hands visible, sitting with his back propped the opposite wall, far away from the distraught creature huddled on the bed. He would give her as much space as he could. A cornered animal will attack if it feels threatened. Kili's voice echoed in Fili's ears, advice from a hunt long ago. Though this girl might not be an animal, she had do doubt been treated as such, he reasoned with himself.
An awkward silence filled the cold room. The girl was shaking like a leaf caught in a summer gale, her grip on the knife awkward. She doesn't even know how to hold it properly. Fili realized sadly. He reverted his gaze to the dirty wooden floorboards before him, absentmindedly readjusting his bracers as the cogs of his mind began to work as quickly as possible given the current situation.
She can't stay in here..
While his outer appearance was only a facade of calm (again a skill that he'd honed through the years as an older brother), inside, Fili was near on panicking. He'd really done it this time. How was he supposed to deal with this- this ruined girl? What in Durin's name was he going to do with her, for like it or not, she was his responsibility now. He couldn't just leave her here, and yet the image of Thorin's shock and rage at finding a girl, helpless and with a fractured soul, in his nephews care when they were just embarking on the most important quest of all...
The room's silence was engulfing him now, causing Fili to pick at the fur of his coat-sleeve anxiously. This situation was far above him- he was floundering in the utter vastness of it all. Still, he had to think, talk- anything. He had to do something. And so Fili did.
"I am not here to cause you more torment," his voice was quiet, soft. There was no reply. "Earlier I... I saw you in the tavern. I saw that man hand over his coins and I couldn't-" Fili paused, letting out a slow breath before looking up, eyes searching for hers. "I couldn't just sit by as he shoved you up the stairs." He dropped his gaze quickly. It was the truth, and his heart beat faster with the hope that the girl would realize this. After a moment of undisturbed silence, however, Fili glanced upwards to find her face a blank mask. Her eyes told a different story, however, so clouded in confusion and uncertainty were they. Her trust must be shattered. Fili thought, and as much as he did not want to fully face the truth- the magnitude- of the situation, the future prince of Erebor was no coward. She had been bought against her will, since whores were known to wear red bands about their arms and necks to signify their employment. This girl had nearly been raped- had been raped, most likely-, and had been a captive for a long time, judging by her appearance and the crazed look hidden deep within her eyes. A look that was drawing closer and closer as the distressed girl, still clutching the blanket about her, launched herself off the bed, dagger held high, and came charging at Fili. A savage, injured cry escaped her lips, and it was all Fili could do to look up in time before the blade flashed downwards at his heart.
~*What~Do~You~Wish~For~Most~*
The knife in my hand was slick with my own blood, but my grip on its handle would not slip- this situation was too dire for mistakes. The rage that assailed me as I shot from the bed was blinding- my own conscious was prisoner to any other emotions besides wild fear. I needed to get away, I needed to escape, and he needed to die for me to do that. He needed to die, he must to die, it was the only way... But somewhere in my heart, while I was tearing across the room with that knife poised above me, stayed true to my old self. To the old Finnley. I had just killed a man, I had just taken a life, and here I was again, about to take another. Even as I raised the blade higher still, bringing it down towards the dwarf's heart, my will was becoming my own once more. What was I thinking? This was ridiculous, utterly harebrained and incredibly stupid. What had gotten into me that I thought I could just go attacking my captor's customers? Idiocy, apparently. Or desperation. Yes, desperation sounded far more reasonable.
I hadn't really thought before I'd surged from the bed- well, thought clearly, that is. The haze of anger and bewildering emotions had done the talking for me, urging me to attack before it was too late, before this fool of a dwarf decided to recapture me back into the bleak life of slavery. I would not be retaken. One way or another, me or him, one of us was going to die. If freedom in life was not the gods wish for me, then freedom in death was my only salvation, and I would take it gladly- Yet this, this killing, this bloodshed... This was not me.
The knife stopped an inch from his heart, hovering, quivering, over his fine clothing. My shaky, gasping breathes filled the room as I forced myself to lower the weapon, fear and horror and trauma at what had just occurred causing my entire body to shake as though the room were colder than the peaks of the Misty Mountains. Blue eyes filled with pure shock, bewilderment, and innocence flicked up suddenly to meet my own, and it was then that I realized how close I'd come to killing the dwarf. He hadn't been expecting my sudden motive of murder, that much was obvious. He hadn't even so much as moved when I'd leapt from the bed, hadn't so much as flinched. I'd truly caught him off guard... He was a warrior, judging from his appearance. I'd caught a glimpse of his knives when he'd barged in- how wicked they had looked! Even now, I could see the two blades gleaming in the candlelight from where they lay forgotten upon the floor. If he was working for them, why hand't he made his move already? I remembered then, he had dropped his blades, discarded them as if they were nothing, put his hands up and told me that he meant me no harm. But I didn't believe him, how could I? After all the lies, all the pain- how could I?
We stared at one another, an eye for an eye, unmoving. My conscious was lost within the assault of inner turmoil. Half of me wanted to run- I could make it to the door, I could slam it shut and run... run... But then the other half was shouting over my imaginings of escape, reasoning that I wouldn't get far, that I would be captured. And what of this dwarf before me? He hadn't even moved, hadn't fought back or slapped me, or tackled me to the ground, as any of my captors or those hired by them would have done. No, no he was different. I desperately wanted to believe this, desperately wished that he wasn't lying, that he was truly here to help me... yet my trust in men of any race was poor of late, and my wishes were of the black, demented variety. Over all of this- my thoughts, my adrenaline, my confusion, my uncertainty- came the knowledge, the frightening, sickening knowledge that I had just killed a man, and much like my life for the past months, it was becoming clearer and clearer to me how inescapable I was now, from this new hell, from this new torture.
The knife in my hand clattered to the floor noisily, and I followed soon after, a low sob escaping my lips as I pitched to the side, the shock of my first kill causing my body to go numb. There was a grunt above me, and my head was suddenly saved from banging the ground harshly by a pair of hands that caught my body and held it suspended above the cold floor. Through the great haze of terror and jarring panic that clouded my mind, I could sense that the dwarf was unsure of himself, unsure if I would permit him to touch me, unsure if I still believed him to be a cohort of my captives. If I had been capable of speaking, I could have assured him that his worrying mattered not anymore, so engulfed in my own inner demise was I that even if I'd wanted to, fighting back was not an option for me anymore.
My limbs were heavy, my breath coming in rattling gasps as my eyes shut tight behind dark lids. For the first time in weeks I saw in the blackness behind my eyelids my mother's gentle smile, the loving twinkle in my father's eye, and my brother, laughing as we ran through the woods, bow slung carelessly upon his back. I longed for them. Gods, how I longed for them, for my mother's warm embrace, for my father's words of wisdom. For the smile Shilah had always managed to put on my face. How had this happened to me? How had this life of torment and misery so quickly become mine, for surely only yesterday I was out feeding the chickens, or mingling with the other girls of the village, whispering of handsome faces and future lovers? All of that, ruined. All of that, blackened and stolen, my youth and innocence gone forever, my life in shambles. You only get one life to live. My mother would always tell me as she brushed and plaited my long hair. So make sure, Finnley, that you live it to the fullest. If only she could see me now, my mother. See how low I'd sunk. This life was more inferior than that of a pig's, wallowing in the mud, waiting to be butchered. This life was nothing to me.
I don't know when I started crying. The tears, hot and damp, glided down my face, mingling with blood and leaving shimmering trails of pink in their wake as they dripped to the floor. The ground dropped out from under me as powerful hands lifted my weak body into equally strong arms. Where was I? What was happening? Why was I being carried? I was too confused, too caught up in my past life, too caught up in what I'd just done- killed- to understand anything that was happening anymore. And so I did the only thing I could coherently think of at the moment. My arms came up to wrap themselves around the dwarf, clutching desperately at the leather of his clothing as I buried my tearstained face into the crook of his warm neck and proceeded to tremble and cry as my soul unraveled itself, my entire body racked with sobs. All those long months of wishing, of hoping that I'd get free, and this was my undoing: the killing of a man. I'd killed a man. I'd murdered. And now I was being taken again, to where I could not say, yet like the rest of my recent life it probably was not good, wherever it was.
Little did I know, I was again about to be proved how wrong I always seemed to be.
I hate English class, I hate writing term papers, and I hate being sick. And I really hate all three of them together! Sorry this took so long in getting out, but the real world called (in the form of a sinus infection -_-). I'm back now, so hopefully the next chapter will be out by the end of the weekend! Hope you enjoyed, and please review, I always love feedback :)