Sveilrun never slept as she laid on the single bedroll in the stone-carved cell. With her broken hand throbbing, daylight still looming over the land, and the constant noise coming from the party of dwarves, sleep was not looking like an option. The only reason she stayed there, with her eyes closed and in taking deep breaths to feign sleep, was so that she would not get into another pointless argument with Thorin. She was confused by the dwarf; he made many emotions - mostly anger - come over her much more easily than she liked. Before that she spent her days in a near constant state feeling basic appeasement; she was not happy nor unhappy with anything, and she had the company of animals to keep her from being lonesome. So why was it the sudden change in company made her feel so unbalanced? It was a thought that frightened her to say the least, but also brought upon a certain aspect of excitement. Sveilrun did not understand such things, but decided to make an effort in trying to. For now though, she was exhausted both mentally and physically and wanted to simply let her mind wander in between conscious states.
Unfortunately things rarely went the way she wanted and she was not allowed the glorious state of which she seeked. Instead she was left with a terrible feeling in her stomach. Her internal clock told her that is was still daytime, the sun had yet to fall over the distant mountains, and so she was left with a feeling of terrible discomfort. She was not supposed to be in human form, this time was supposed to be taken by the wolf, but she couldn't shift. There was barely any room in the cell, so being in wolf form would mean that she and Thorin would be rather cramped for space, and she would either have to sit against the wall or lie down. Worse than that, she couldn't shift in front of Thorin. Shifting was an extremely sensitive ordeal, even more so than getting dressed in the morning, and her pride would never allow her to do something so private in front of the dwarf king. So she would be forced to live in her irritated state until darkness covered the land.
In this moment of semi-peace, Sveilrun was given a chance to finally explore her thoughts. Earlier in Mirkwood before the spiders had attacked she had a moment where she almost blacked out and she still didn't know why. The suddenness, and the complete overtake of her senses still boggled her. And for once she could actually smell the things around her. When skin-changers reached a certain age they would lose their ability to smell. It was so that they could search for their intended ones and continue their bloodlines; only when they found the one they were to be mated to for life, and completed the bonding process, would their sense of smell return. Sveilrun never found her intended one when she still lived with her people in the mountain, and had assumed she never would. She always assumed he had died before her, or perhaps that there was no one created for her. She had asked her father as a child what it was like to find the scent of his intended one, and he had said that it was the best experience he ever had, so what happened in Mirkwood couldn't possibly be that. Nothing about that was amazing, or great, it was awful and disorienting. Deciding that it was the forest playing tricks on her mind, Sveilrun pushed the memory aside.
As Sveilrun laid in the darkened corner of the cell, her situation gradually became worse. The itchy, bugs-under-the-skin feeling grew and became like snakes slithering through her bones whispering venomous words of her discomfort. Her muscles spasmed and shifted painfully, begging to be in their proper form, and her eyes shined a bright golden.
'Just a few more hours,' she would repeat to herself, 'Just a few more hours.'
She rolled onto her other side, hoping the different position would bring comfort, but it didn't change in the slightest. Her eyes remained firmly shut, even when she could feel the dwarf king's gaze roam over her, and she tried to act as if her movements were decided upon by her sleeping mind.
Thorin looked over when the skin-changer shifted onto her other side, but came to the conclusion that she was still asleep when her eyelids didn't twitch or flutter open. He studied her face as she slept, he had not yet seen her with such an open expression; usually she was scowling, showing indifference, or was in wolf form which was even harder to read. She didn't necessarily look happy, but she wasn't frowning and no worry showed in her expression. She looked neutral.
The dwarf was snapped from his thoughts when Sveilrun rolled over again and pulled her legs slightly closer to her chest. This time his eyes roamed to the saddlebag that she had placed next to herself before falling asleep. Curiosity shined in his eyes as he weighed the possibilities of getting caught snooping, and how mad she may be. While arguments may be a form of entertainment in the otherwise dull cell, he felt they had yelled at each other enough for one day.
Finally once his curiosity managed to beat the possible consequences, he reached forward and silently lifted the wolf harness. His blue eyes flickered between the sleeping woman and the clasp of the saddlebag as he slowly opened it. When Sveilrun made no sign of awakening any time soon, he continued and pushed open the flap of the bag. The moment his eyes peered down into the bag, a tight grip latched onto his hand making him jump. The wolf woman had rolled over and grabbed onto him in a second, and was staring at the dwarf with narrowed golden yellow eyes.
"What is it you hope to achieve by rifling through my things?" Sveilrun asked, her face no longer peacefully resting but set in a frown.
Thorin wasn't sure how to answer for a moment but eventually replied, "A cure for my boredom."
Sveilrun sat up with a sigh, removing her hand from Thorin's wrist and taking her bag back. Instead of closing it and hiding her things away like Thorin suspected, she started to take things out. The wolf woman brought out a large woolen blanket and unwrapped it on the piece of stone floor between them. Inside rested a toy rabbit made of some kind of thick fabric, a wooden box with thin pieces of metal attached that Thorin had never seen before, and a long cord with a hide pouch on the end. After that she pulled out a few changes of clothing and a small dagger made from a stag's jaw bone. The two objects that caught the dwarf king's attention the most was the odd wooden box and the rabbit.
"What is this?" Thorin asked, pointing at the box.
"It's called a kalimba," Sveilrun answered, picking it up with careful hands, "It's a musical instrument, although not the most common."
She lightly flicked her thumbs over a few of the thin metal pieces, making a high, clear sound. Just as soon as she began, she stopped and placed in back down. One mystery solved, one more to go.
"I do not understand how something like this could be helpful on a long journey," Thorin stated, gesturing towards the toy rabbit.
"Simply a cold comfort," Sveilrun replied, picking up said toy and turning it over in her hands as she looked it over.
"Did it belong to someone?" Thorin asked, his eyes fixed on the woman.
She nodded in reply, her gaze fixed on the old and very battered rabbit, "It was my brothers."
"What was his name?" the dwarf king asked, and noticed the slight change in the skin-changers expressions. She was beginning to guard herself.
"Favian," She replied shortly, her tone changing from reminiscing to indifferent in the span of a second.
Thorin briefly remembered her shouting such a name when they were being attacked by the spiders, but saved that thought for another time. If he asked now he knew she would not give him the answer he wanted.
Thorin's gaze flickered to the cord and pouch, and he picked it up between two hesitant fingers. However, before he could open the pouches drawstrings, tight fingers clamped around his to stop his movements.
"I don't think it wise to open that," Sveilrun said, eyeing the bag with slight wariness, "You may not like what is inside."
"Why?" Thorin asked hesitantly, his eyes narrowing on the bag.
Sveilrun slipped the pouch from his grip and lowered the cord around her neck so the pouch hung below her chest, "Do not worry over it, it is simply a talisman for speech in wolf form."
Thorin made a noise of understanding at the back of his throat, but still watched the pouch with curious eyes. Sveilrun began to pack the few possessions away carefully, but stopped when Thorin asked, "What kind of music can be played on that instrument?"
Sveilrun paused her movements and asked with a hint of disbelief, "You want me to play it?"
"If you don't mind," Thorin replied, and moved back so he could lean against the stone wall of the cell with his legs crossed in front of him. He, along with all of the other dwarves, were bored and tired, and music could do them good to lift their lowered spirits.
"You realize my people's music is different from yours?" Sveilrun asked, the disbelief still evident in her tone.
"If you don't know how to play than you should just say so," Thorin challenged good naturedly, and that was all it took to get a reaction from the skin-changer.
Sveilrun huffed and picked up the small wooden instrument, leaning against the opposite wall of Thorin, and looked over the small metal tines as a certain tune came to mind. She took a steadying breath as her thumbs began to dance across the thin strips of metal, only having to give them the lightest flick to emit the clear tune. She song she chose was fast paced, her thumbs switching between notes quickly, and rang throughout the dungeon. As she had stated, the music she played was extremely different in comparison to dwarf music, but it was no less lovely. It started off simple, but as she went along the song would twist and change, becoming more complex - or as complex as a song could become on such a small instrument - and her pace fastened until the sound was thrumming through the stone cells. Just as quickly as the song began, it ended with slow parting notes. Sveilrun set down the instrument, stretching her stiff, injured hand which had begun to cramp up.
Single clapping could be heard from another cell followed by Kili's voice saying, "It's a shame we haven't any more instruments- we could make so much noise that the elves get annoyed into letting us go. Plus it'd be entertaining."
Sveilrun couldn't help but chuckle silently at the youngest dwarven prince's attitude. Thorin's lips quirked slightly in hints of a smile upon seeing the amusement flash across the skin-changers face.
"So you can play it," Thorin teased, happy to have found the way to get to the skin-changer. She doesn't like to be challenged.
"I'm happy you enjoyed it," Sveilrun replied with the same tone, "It's a song we played for fussy children - it only seemed suitable."
Thorin couldn't help but laugh at the skin-changers quick response. His laugh was contagious, and soon Sveilrun was having to muffle her own silent snicker. She had no idea what was funny about the scenario; they were locked in a cell controlled by a person they both held a deep hatred for, and escape did not look to be coming soon, but something in that moment seemed so comical that the both fell into a fit of pointless laughter.
"Great, first they're screaming and now they're laughing," Dwalin grumbled from his cell.
"As long as they don't kill one another, I don't care what they're doing," Balin commented, earning a snort from his brother.
Soon the day wore into night, and Sveilrun was able to breathe a sigh of relief. The muscle spasms and sliding in her bones faded away and she could relax once again. All of the dwarves were relatively silent in their collective boredom; it was too soon for sleeping, but there was nothing that they could entertain themselves with. Sveilrun leaned against the wall opposite to the cell door and made a game of throwing pebbles through the cracks in the cell door. Unfortunately this was only entertaining for the first three throws and then she was once again plagued by boredom.
Kili sighed and scuffed his boots against the stone floor before an idea came to him. Stepping up to the cell door, he called out toward Thorin and Sveilrun's cell, "Veili, do you have any more of those stories?"
"Stories?" She questioned.
"You know, like the one about the lantern and the brothers," Kili elaborated.
"Seriously?" Sveilrun muttered, "That was just a tale we tell children at moon festivals."
"What are moon festivals?" Fili asked from a short ways away.
Sveilrun fumbled to find the right words, "It's- well it's a festival to honour the dead. We used to have them every month."
"Than why are they called 'moon' festivals instead of death festivals?" another dwarf joined in the conversation, Gloin by the sounds of it.
"Because my people protect the moon after death," Sveilrun explained slowly, feeling as if she were teaching the village pups all over again, "So our respects go to the moon who protects us in life."
There was a range of confused murmurs coming from the dwarves before Kili asked, "What do you do during a moon festival?"
"Dance, sing, tell stories," Sveilrun listed absentmindedly, "Light lanterns, eat food and drink."
"Sounds like fun," Fili commented.
"They were," Sveilrun replied, a feeling of melancholy filling in her chest.
"We should have one!" Kili shouted from his cell, "We should have a moon festival!"
"In case you haven't noticed," Thorin grumbled at his nephew, "We're in an elven dungeon."
"Well not right now," Kili reasoned, "Once we take back Erebor."
"Sure," Sveilrun had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, "If we ever manage to get out of this dungeon I'll try and set up a moon festival."
"C'mon Veili, what other stories do you have?" Kili sounded after another few minutes, leaning against the bars, "I'm bored."
"Everyone is bored," Sveilrun replied, "Don't you have your own stories."
"We all already know most of the dwarven tales," Balin commented, "It would be nice to hear something new."
Sveilrun sighed, banging her head back against the stone wall and took a moment to think to herself, "Fine I've got one."
Clearing her throat, she began the story, "There was once a man village on the edge of a mountain. The man village had a selfish ruler who thought the village to be too small for his likes, so he began to take forest lands that didn't belong to him for his people to build their homes on. This angered the creatures of the forest; they thought it unfair for their home to be ruined because of one man's ambitions. One day, a small girl was travelling into the forest to visit her grandmother who lived in one of the cottages that had taken over forest lands. The child did not realized that she was being watched on her travels by a wolf. The wolf was angry, for it was his family that had been forced out of the forest by the grandmother's home, but the wolf was also very clever. Instead of simply attacking the girl as most animals would, he approached the girl and introduced himself; thinking to trick the girl out of the forest. But the man-child was unmannerly and disrespectful, thinking herself to be above the creatures of the forest. This angered the wolf further, but he left the girl to continue her travels.
Unbeknown to the girl, the wolf was familiar with magics older than the forest itself. While she travelled down the winding path, the wolf ran ahead to her grandmother's cottage. Imitating the voice of the young girl, the wolf was given entrance to the grandmother's home. He used old magic to turn the old woman into the form of a wolf. When the child came upon the cottage, instead of finding her sickly grandmother she found an old wolf and the torn robes of the grandmother. Thinking that the beast had eaten the old woman, the child called for help, but it was too late as the bewitched wolf ate the child whole. When a hunter came upon the scene, it was too late to save the girl but he struck down the wolf, killing it with his axe. When the village heard what happened they grew fearful of the forest, and they pulled themselve back into the safety of the village. The clever wolf rejoiced and his family once again reigned over the forest lands. The end."
There was a long, drawn out silence once the skin-changer finished her story. Even Thorin looked confused by her tale, and his eyebrows were pinched together in thought.
"I think you told it wrong," Kili's hesitant voice suddenly sounded.
"What? Of course I didn't," Sveilrun scoffed.
"No, I'm pretty sure you told it wrong," another voice called, Bombur by the sound of it.
"No, I didn't," Sveilrun argued, "How would any of you know, it's a skin-changer tale?"
"We have a similar one," Thorin said, "But in our's the girl and grandmother are fine and the wolf get's killed by the huntsman."
"That's disgusting," Sveilrun stated, folding her arms stubbornly.
"Your story killed a child, how is ours disgusting?" Thorin argued back.
"The child was disrespectful and imposing on the wolf's territory," Sveilrun responded, "He was protecting his family from the man village."
"By killing an old woman and a child?" Thorin asked disbelievingly.
"He didn't technically kill them," Sveilrun responded, "He just gave them a means to their end."
"And ours is still the disgusting one?" Thorin said again, "Your story killed a child."
"Ah, well the peace and quiet was nice while it lasted," They could just barely hear Balin's voice say, "Now they're arguing again."
Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "It's been a long day, how about we all just go to sleep."
His tone made it clear that it was not a suggestion but a command, and none of the dwarves argued. It had been a long day, and they were all exhausted just as Thorin had said. They all went to whatever form of bed was left in their cells and quickly fell into the abyss of their unconscious states. Sveilrun could hear as they each succumbed to sleep one by one, which was extremely obvious by the gradual volume of their snores. Thorin turned and made for the bedroll in the corner, but Sveilrun held up a hand and stopped him.
"I won the bed fair and square," the skin-changer asserted, dropping herself on the side of the bed closest to the cave wall.
"You're not honestly going to make me sleep on stone when it's plenty big enough for us both," Thorin grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.
"I honestly am," Sveilrun claimed, matching his movements and folding her arms across her chest, "I don't need to wake up in the morning smelling of dwarf."
Thorin narrowed his eyes at the skin-changer, hoping to stare her down, but her glare was just as ferocious as his own. They glared daggers at each other for a few minutes until eventually Thorin lost his patience, and instead of backing down like Sveilrun hoped, he stomped forward and dropped down onto the extra space of the bedroll, lying down and turning his back to the woman.
Sveilrun's glare was almost sharp enough to cut through the subject of her anger, but the dwarf king showed no mind. Images of shoving him off the bedroll and cursing at the dwarf king coursed through her mind, but her anger was not enough for her to retaliate against Thorin as exhaustion clouded her mind. Of course she wouldn't quit without at least having the last word, and hissed at his back, "Gelek menu caragu rukhs" which roughly translated to, 'you smell like orc dung,' before rolling over so she didn't have to see Thorin's back and shimmied further away from him.
"Your dwarvish is terrible," Thorin grumbled underneath his breath.
"Your dwarvish is terrible," Sveilrun growled and kicked her foot back to hit the back of his his leg.
There was a pause of complete silence before Thorin asked, "What?"
"I don't know, I'm tired! Leave me alone," Sveilrun snapped, grabbing the edge of her cloak and wrapping it tighter around herself.
Sveilrun could feel the warmth practically radiating off of the dwarf behind her, and that just added to her anger and frustration. The stone cell was freezing to the touch, and the bed and her clothing weren't providing much coverage against the biting cold. She pulled her knees up to her chest, which gave her some warmth, but hardly any. The clouds of pure exhaustion floated around her head, and despite the anger, frustration, and biting cold that she was feeling she slowly slipped into the darkness sleep provided. For the first time in many years, she managed to fall asleep in human form.
Thorin laid perfectly still on the bedroll next to Sveilrun, expecting to be shoved off any second, but it never came. Instead he could hear the skin-changer shift on the bed before her breathing began to deepen and she fell into a silent sleep. He sat up and looked over his shoulder to find that she had actually fallen asleep. The woman's face was even more relaxed than the first time he had seen her rest, and took on an innocence that he didn't think possible for someone like her. He watched her for a few moments; she was turned away from him on her side with one arm supporting her head and the other, the injured hand, resting on her waist. Her dark brown hair was in a mess of wavy curls that spread all around her head and framed her face. He only just noticed the tufts of pale blond hair around her ears and neck that matched the patches of blond fur on her wolf. In the few seconds that he observed her, he noticed the slight shiver that wracked through her body and left a trail of goosebumps. He huffed silently to himself before taking off his large fur jacket and placing it over the sleeping woman. Deciding that watching the woman any longer would be inappropriate, he laid back down and took a similar sleeping position as Sveilrun; on his side with an arm propped underneath his head as a pillow, but his back was turned to her. Soon, he as well joined Sveilrun and the other dwarves in the world of sleep.
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A/N: I can't say this is my favourite chapter I've ever written, but I promise the next is better. If you have any suggestions so far I am open to criticism!