Chapter Eight

Honor

The travel through the human town of Bree proved to be a test in humility, humor, and patience. Maggie found that she was on the ass end of the totem pole when it came to the unsavory glances shot her way. Despite Tharkûn's shadow (he demanded that she even use his new name in her thoughts) cast over her stoutly form, she was still the stickiest, nastiest piece of gum on everyone's shoe if their glares were to be believed.

She did believe, most heartily. This was nothing like the icy welcome she had received from the hobbits back at home when she had first arrived. The humans were about as self-interested as they were tall, and tall they were, for they towered over her like booms without microphones. Their voices echoed just as loudly, too, now that she thought about it. Gandalf, Tharkûn, had been cheerfully greeted by most that passed them by and they knew the old, fraying wizard as Gandalf, or The Grey Pilgrim.

Honestly. How many names did this man need?

Their stay had been mercifully short. A night in the Prancing Pony with a short straw-stuffed bed, and a loud and party-drunk crowd under the floorboards gave way into a hasty morning in the skunk-washed latrines. Maggie felt her inner-hobbit sneer at the festering mud around the stone stalls and the smell that wrinkled from them was enough to burn off half of her beard, she was sure of it. These humans had some ways to go in the terms of hygiene and cleanliness if they were ever going to be like the ones back home.

Like she was, back home.

As the days trailed by and she followed in the path of the wizard, she found that there was too much time in the day to be left alone with her thoughts. Gandalf – 'gods damn it from above,' – Tharkûn, spoke to her plenty. The birds and all manner of winged creature were his favorite subjects, with the plant life and furred creatures a close second.

Dwarves were not readily on his list of things to discuss. It appeared her people were far too stubborn and prideful of their culture and lifestyles that they hardly shared with anyone, lest of all a wandering wizard from whatever wastes he claimed as a homeland.

"Those last few words criticizing my origins came from an especially spirited young dwarf dam, who…"

Off he was once again, not that Maggie minded all that much. It kept her thoughts away from the home she had left behind, and the small bundle she missed terribly. She hadn't given birth to the damn fawn, but the ache was hard enough. She missed his pudgy face and gurgles, the miniscule fingers around her sausage-shaped ones, and his large, wide eyes.

It had already been about a month since they had set out from Hobbiton. The yuletide snow frosted the land around them and Maggie couldn't tell how far along they were into the new year. She had made Tharkûn promise to send her home before her birthday, to spend it with Bilbo, but now she feared (she knew), that wouldn't be on the agenda.

Conniving old goat, that wizard.

"Ah, I see we have companions upon this road." The wizard's voice drew her away from her darkening thoughts and Maggie brought her face to look up. Before them was a trio of horses, their asses turned toward them, as well as their riders' backs. Maggie urged her pony closer to Gandalf's horse and remained quiet. These appeared to be humans, as well, with long backs and long necks. What threw her off and made her itchy with curiosity was the state of their hair.

These people looked as if they bathed every day by the gloss in their long strands. It was mildly unnerving to her as she became painfully aware of her coarse hair and dark threads that framed her stony face. Gandalf never hesitated for a moment and Maggie thought, just for a moment, he should have paused.

"Hail, fair folk of Imladris!" Gandalf greeted. All at once the riders turned toward the sound of Gandalf's voice and Maggie felt her throat constrict. Shapely faces glowed with smooth skin and jeweled eyes, with mouths that neither frowned nor smiled. They all returned Gandalf's greeting and before she could steel herself (or her soul for that matter), the ethereal beings focused on her.

'I'm going to be violently sick.' It almost felt horrendously unnatural to be looked upon by such faces, but Maggie felt her neck stiffen and her hard chin lock into a dog's careful tilt. She would not bite if provoked, but heavens above did they make her felt completely skinned.

"Good afternoon to you, Mithrandir. How has the day treated you?" This one was dark haired and carved marble. Maggie could faintly recall Gandalf's mention of rocky appearance that she sported and wondered briefly if her pebble features could compare to their ivory coloring.

"Well, my friend, very well. Ah, where is she – Margaret, come out from behind me, please!" Gandalf's stern words had Maggie bring her horse around his left side, as far as politely possible from the trio of men, 'could they be men? Is that allowed?' The men blinked at her and their stillness felt unnatural.

"Margaret. Introduce yourself, my dear." Gandalf commanded. Maggie swallowed as this would be the first time that she would attempt to communicate without Belladonna or Bungo to hold her hand through the process. 'Don't say anything stupid. Stick to words you know, girl.'

"Margaret?" Gandalf prompted and Maggie could see the brows twitch over the trio of handsome faces.

"I am Margaret, dwarrowdam under the care of Tharkûn, formerly a ward of Bungo Baggins, of Bag End." She could feel her throat go dry and she inhaled sharply. The air burned through her nose and over her tongue. Gandalf beamed at her and then nodded to their companions.

"What would a dwarf need to be in the care of a wizard?" Maggie noticed this question wasn't directed at her. The men turned their attention to Gandalf and the wizard bobbed his head slightly.

"It is strange, but she is a dear friend and has requested assistance in her unique situation." The thin eyebrows of the riders arched up and they glanced at each other in silent communication. It was then that Maggie noticed something entirely impossible; the points of their ears through their glittering hair.

Something punched her in the chest and she clenched her teeth to keep from gasping. 'Elves! Holy shit, Belladonna wasn't anywhere close!' Maggie had expected something akin to a glowing being that floated above the ground and bent trees with a wave of their hand. Instead, these males appeared human and completely grounded.

'This feels a little disappointing.' Not that she had any room to talk once she considered her appearance and all its eroded glory. She couldn't deny that they were beautiful, far more so than any living creature had the right to be, but she had been expecting more, so much more.

"Are you… headed to Imladris, then? If you would like, we could accompany you to the edge of homestead." The blond elf offered. Maggie frowned upon the notice of a glance thrown her way from the corner of his eyes. She didn't look away, she wasn't about to let the beautiful bastard intimidate her. A slight sneer colored his face and he looked away.

'Primp dildo.' She snorted down her chin and reached over to scratch at Brussel's neck.

"Only if you are headed in the same direction, and if not, you needn't worry over our safety!" Gandalf turned away the help and Maggie was grateful for it. The elves nodded their heads and with a brief and affectionate farewell (to Gandalf, at least), they turned their horses down the path that Gandalf and her had come along.

Immediately, Gandalf turned on her with a searing heat. "And what, pray tell, was that?"

"What was what?" Maggie blinked. She pulled at Brussel's reins. "What happened?"

"What happened." Gandalf grumbled and brought his horse alongside hers. "You were incredibly rude, Margaret."

"How was I rude?" She asked as her pony meandered along. "I only introduced myself."

"They are not blind, Margaret. I saw your face and heard your grumblings." Gandalf reprimanded. Maggie rolled her eyes and snapped a look at him with a scratch at her beard, a habit that was slowly becoming a quirk of hers.

"I said, maybe at maximum, ten words to the pointy eared bastards." She snorted again. "And if the blond one hadn't sneered, I wouldn't have had a cause to return it." Gandalf had gone silent at her words and it was a handful of paces before Maggie ticked an eyebrow at him. "What now, wizard?"

Bushy brows narrowed over his nose. "It appears there is far more dwarf in you than I had realized. How, though, is my concern. You have not had any dealings with elves in all your time with Belladonna, and yet you harbor some hate."

Maggie scoffed. "Hate? Now, I wouldn't go so far. Dislike, maybe, but not hate. I don't know them and they certainly do not know me. If anyone looked at me that way, regardless of the state of their ears, I would be annoyed. If anything, they were rude."

"Oh, Margaret." Gandalf sighed. "What am I to do with you? We are to spend a good amount of your spring with elves. Surely Belladonna taught you good manners."

"So did my mother," Maggie bit, her temper on the rise. "But yes, I have plenty of manners. I also learned to treat others as they wish to be treated. Do not demand respect when none can be given."

"You remember your mother?" Gandalf derailed. Maggie sighed. She knew better than to mention anything of her old life. Those things would just get her in trouble. She had done well enough with Belladonna and Bungo to avoid any hurt, but Gandalf had a way of pulling out the worse of her traits and buried memories.

"I remember some bits and pieces. They come to me over time." She lied. She remembered her human life vividly. She could remember her pets, her apartment, her classmates and friends. She recalled her favorite park, the mom-and-pop sandwich shop just down the street. She knew all these things, even the accident that put her here.

She just couldn't share those, because how would a dwarf know any of that? How could she explain her situation, her world, to anyone that existed in this one? No, in this, she was absolutely alone.

"That is good." Gandalf smiled at her. "Perhaps with Lord Elrond's assistance, you will come to remember much more. We could even find your family."

Maggie gave him a waning smile. 'I very much doubt that.'

0 o 0

The remaining travel was quiet. Though Gandalf probed, eager to see what else Maggie could recall of her previous life, she held firm and kept her lips tight. The wintery nights were sharp and tasteless and no amount of fire or furs could keep the shiver out of her bones. She wasn't entirely sure it was the ice that unnerved her, or the thought of being surrounded by gossipy, smug, self-centered elves.

She would know soon enough. The passage through the Trollshaws was quick with the help of a patrolling Dúnadan, a man of weary stature and a rugged face. His black hair was greasy and tied back with a leather strip and his beard was thin and short. Grey eyes wandered the forest as he travelled alongside them throughout the day and Maggie found him frighteningly aware of his surroundings.

When night settled, the man was efficient in making a small fire, throwing out his bedroll and set about to make whatever dinner he could from their combined supplies.

"You will enjoy your time in Rivendell," Argonui, son of Arathorn the first, explained to her over the light of the fire. He placed a crooked bowl of slop into her hands and her fingers singed from the contact. "The Lord of the House is kind and patient, as are his sons and those in his dwelling. They forget themselves at times, and remember us only as children, but they are a good folk."

"I will have to take your word for it." Maggie answered, her gaze lingered on his face. 'He can't be a hundred and thirty three, he just can't…' She had almost fallen off from her pony when Gandalf had introduced them. Maggie had made some wayward comment about a lad so young being left in the wild.

Her ignorance had seemed to both annoy the Ranger, and endear him. She stared down into her bowl and her mind was restless with thoughts. Belladonna had made mention that dwarves lived extensive lives, near on three hundred years. It was a little less damning and a lot less frightening to think her adopted race wasn't alone in that fact. 'Even if that means the elves are the only ones who remember us,' she sneered into her soup.

"May I inquire, Lady Margaret, as to how you believe Lord Elrond will help you?" Argonui tore into his flat bread and slurped at his soup. The sight made her smile over the lips of her bowl and she shrugged a shoulder.

"I have been told his healing powers are rivaled to none. I suppose if anyone is to have one last hope, it should be weighed upon his skills." The ranger did not grin at her tease, but a small huff of acknowledgement was her reward. She found that this man was just as the others who patrolled the borders of Eriador; quiet, swift, and unassuming.

Only his curiosity at seeing a dwarf, a female dwarf, brought him out from his shadows.

"I sincerely hope that you find the answer to your hurt, milady." Argonui murmured.

Maggie waved a hand, "Stop that. That milady nonsense, I have a beard same as you. Companions, at least. I have no status."

Argonui and Gandalf spared a short look between themselves and Gandalf laughed into his pipe. Argonui turned to her and offered her a weak smile. "I would not have called you so at first, Margaret, for I had…" He trailed off and Maggie knew exactly why.

"You thought me male," She grinned at the now embarrassed ranger. She laughed into her bread, "and you would not be the first, or the last, to think so." She should have been just as uncomfortable as the poor man. Her beard had made her seem something she was not, but the ranger's discomfort outweighed and lessened her worry.

Perhaps the beard would be good for something.

"It will be an interesting tale to tell the lads back at camp." Argonui began to tease as he relaxed with her humor, "Now every one of them will wonder at the last dwarf they had seen, male or not?"

Maggie and Gandalf snickered at the thought.

"How are the rest of your brethren, Ranger?" Gandalf inquired through his smoke. Argonui was quiet for a short time and seem to ponder the question. Maggie could see the tightness in his jawline and the tension in his shoulders as he set his bowl down.

"Steady, wizard. They seem to do well under my command, such as it is." He finally answered.

"Command?" Maggie interrupted. "You're a leader?"

Argonui ducked his head. "In a sense, since we do not hold any true title beyond those that are given to us by the inhabitants of Middle-Earth. We are mostly wanders and seen as vagabonds by others."

"How come?" Maggie tilted her head. "I know you, or at least, of you. Belladonna mentioned that rangers guarded our borders more often than the Bounders do."

"Did she now?" Argonui sounded surprised, but Maggie could not see his face through his hair or the shadows of the fire. "It is… uncommon that one of the little folk would notice us."

Gandalf and Maggie shared a snort, and then Maggie laughed. "It is strange, but Belladonna is far past what one would call normal for Shire folk. I thank you, sir, for not calling them halflings."

"Aye," Argonui bowed his head. "I had a rock thrown at me once by a youngling for saying the word. Disrespectful, he told me."

Maggie laughed harder at that and nearly dropped her bowl, "I can believe that! Those little creatures are troublesome bugs. No leash strong enough to hold them back and no stick fast enough to catch them."

She got a real chuckle out of the ranger with that one and Maggie could feel her cheeks hurt from smiling. It felt wonderful to be in the presence of someone who didn't judge her for the way she appeared or the size of her feet. He didn't even seem to mind the beard (beyond the fact that he embarrassed himself) and Maggie preened under the attention.

'God, I must be really deprived if I'm practically fawning over someone just for smiling at me. Jesus, save me.' She flushed up from her neck and immediately dropped her face down to her bowl to finish her soup. Last thing she needed was a stranger thinking she was completely infatuated with him.

Not that she was. Absolutely not.

Maggie hurriedly finished her meal and chomped at her flat beard before giving her companions hasty 'good nights' and then she scurried into her bedroll for the evening.

0 o 0

Argonui stayed with them until the very edge of the last of the trees of the Trollshaws. He waved them off and gave Maggie a charming grin with a kiss to the back of her hand. The heat came straight up from her chest to her chin at the gesture and she stuttered a good-bye as they parted. A nearly a year without the attention of a man and here she was coming apart at the seams over one polite kiss.

She hoped the dwarves were ugly enough that she could restrain her nerves, because if a ragged, ill-smelling, unkempt man was enough to make her blush like she was back in high school, she was going to be in for a world of hurt and embarrassment. Where was a chastity belt when she needed one? It was some relief to realize a few hours into the ride to Rivendell that Argonui had been nothing but polite.

She kept forgetting that even though these people felt familiar, the humans sometimes more so than others, they were nothing like the people back home. These folks had no smartphones, no calendars, no colleges, no structured and Homeowner's-Associated neighborhoods. They were wild and free and unruly by her societal standards.

The more she thought about it, the more Maggie appreciated Argonui's gesture, past the simple contact and warmth it provided. Back home, such an action would have been considered cute and polite as well, but the unspoken, ulterior motive would have been different. Many would have taken the kiss and in the back of their minds would have thought, 'what do you want?'

Argonui had been utterly sincere in his farewell and Maggie knew it was the reason she floundered at his touch. Even as muddy, maggoty, and swashbuckling as he was, his intentions were honorable.

"Margaret?" Gandalf's staff tapped her boot in the stirrup.

"Yes?" She absently replied and brought her gaze up. "Is something the matter?"

"You've been awfully quiet, my dear. What is on your mind?" His voice had turned from the patronizing, often stern, tone of an escort to that of the old man he was, weary and kind. Suddenly, Maggie felt her throat constrict and an infuriating prickle of tears clouded her vision.

"I think I am scared." She replied honestly. She swallowed and reached up to rub at her eyes with a heavy sigh. "I am so very scared."

Gandalf reached over and took her reins and pulled Brussel closer to his horse. "Come, Margaret. Tell me what troubles you. What has frightened you? Is it being away from Belladonna and Bungo?"

"No," Maggie answered, even though it was partially true after a month's time of traveling. "I am scared for everything I left behind. I am scared I will not… I will not survive here."

"Margaret. Oh, my dear." Gandalf pulled both animals to a stop and he leaned over to place a hand on her head. "We seem to forget you are still very young by the ways of your people. A child who should still be with her mother, and here you are, wondering in the wild in search of answers."

The tears slipped out and Maggie fought back a sob. She couldn't stop it now and she truly couldn't understand where the painful pop of emotion had escaped from within her. She swallowed again, desperately trying to find her voice. Gandalf's hand smoothed down over her rough hair and he hummed to her.

"Though we may never know what has happened to you, Margaret, I hope that you remember you will never be alone in this life."

She could only nod her head, even when she knew Gandalf was unaware of how much he promised.

Note: Took some time, but we're getting there. Next is Rivendell and perhaps a few time skips...