The weeks pass and Raven GoldDust masters the Khuzdul language reading, writing and speaking, and is able to communicate clearly much to everyone's relief and astonishment.
She seems to have a need to be near gold, stronger even than a dwarven desire for the precious metal. She revels in the feel of it and on a few occasions she's caught just laying on a pile of it in her bed. The dwarves find it difficult to keep giving up gold for her and are starting to talk - suggesting she may have the dragon sickness.
Dwalin and the healers ask her about this unnatural need for gold. While she seems unconcerned to be talking about her need, she has a hard time finding words to describe it. The best she can come up with is, "It's soothing and cleansing." She puts both hands on Dwalin's cheeks and images of a healing balm and a good bath pop into his head. When she lets go, he shakes his head startled at the intrusion into his mind, "How did ye just do that?" She shrugs it off, "I just do...This is na normal?" He shakes his head "no" and she seems puzzled.
In compromise, she is taught how to mine for the metal for herself and it works well for everyone.
All seems to be going well into summer, save the nights. Much to Dwalin's chagrin, she can't sleep with out him. As fond as he is of her, this just isn't proper and it goes directly against the dwarven traditions regarding relationships. Nonetheless, the nightmares plague her if he's not at least in the same room. He and the healers have tried everything. She's unable to speak of the horrors she experienced, but she shares muddled images and sensations of darkness, knives, orcs, terrible pain, a large egg with the contents sacrificed, bonds, feeling like a primal creature, snippets of the dreadful Black Speech, and a very frightening man type being that doesn't seem to really be alive. Those with whom she shared, Dwalin included, can't wipe the bloodcurdling scenes from their minds.
...
By fall, Raven's confidence is growing and she seems to be fitting in fairly well, despite her dependence on gold. She starts to ask about occupations and how she can be of benefit in Erebor. She explores options for her future by visiting shops, craftsmen, musicians, miners, and sages. Nothing seems to click for her though.
One day in her wanderings she spies Dwalin in the training hall practicing with his twin axes and training the next generation. She's tried hard to let him have a distance from her, since the time she sensed resentment of her domineering his time. He's been more patient now that he has freedom again.
Despite not wanting to tread on his privacy, she can't help but watch him. This warrior side of him seems to be such a stark contrast to the gentle side she knows. The tomes of history she's read though, tell of the need for this side of him and every other dwarf here. There is much to protect - honor, gold, a dwindling people, hallowed halls that have taken ages to complete, and so much more. As he mock battles multiple enemies, she realizes what her place should be to compliment his talents.
Dwalin sees her out of the corner of his eye, leaning on the door way watching him. He puts a little extra effort into quickly taking out his pupils, to push their skills and to end the match. The young ones are improving, it takes a few extra swings for him to defeat them this time. He dismisses his students, then grabs a towel to wipe down his bare head and face as he walks over to her.
She turns to leave not wanting to be a bother, but he gently grabs her arm - loose enough that she can leave if she really wants. "Rav, ye do na have to go," he confesses using his pet name for her, "I've appreciated the space, but I've also missed seeing ye during the day." She brightens and doesn't pull from his grip, so he continues, "So what brought ye, here?"
"I've learned what I can do to be of best use here," she baits his curiosity and looks very proud of herself.
He puts both hands on her arms and looks at her expectantly, caught in the trap as the proverbial cat, "Do tell."
"I will be a healer. I realized it while I watched ye," she says in all seriousness.
He laughs trying not to take affront to what she just said, "So, my fighting skills are lacking?"
Her face instantly changes to mortification, "No! In the history tomes - wars happen multiple times every generation. Yer path leads ye into danger. Despite yer superior skills, ye can na miss every blade..." She delicately traces the scar over his eye and nose, then several on his bare shoulders and arms.
He sighs, defeated by her honest evaluation and he stokes her cheek to calm her, "True enough dear lady. We do need healers and ye'll quickly become one of the very best."
"I will be useful to ye?" she questions, hoping for his approval.
"Aye," he reaches down to kiss her cheek, "and to others. Yer insight is spot on as always..."
...
Raven asks to apprentice with the healers the next day. She finds healing is quite a bit more difficult to learn, and perhaps more rewarding for the same reason. More of an art than memorization. Not everything she tries on herself works the same as it does with the other dwarves, and it deeply puzzles her.
Curious about her need for gold and silver compared to her comrades, she begins experimenting with the metals in medicines. She's the only one that seems to benefit much from the addition, save silver in a burn creme.
Author's Notes:
Songs
Stay by Jorane
Clansman by Saor Patrol