CHAPTER FIVE
The Saviour
Farren was humiliated, she was ashamed of herself for scaring young Bilbo and understood that he wanted to be as far away from her as possible, travelling with Gandalf at the front while she fought back tears behind. The rain could've camouflaged her tears but she let them burn her eyes, as a punishment for letting him see her in such a vulnerable state, and then nearly killing him.
However, he had told no one about what had happened. Not even Gandalf who had been sending Farren pitiful looks all morning, as if he sensed something was wrong. But nothing was wrong. She removed that night from her memory, like she did with anything that made her cry; such as the night her family were attacked.
No, don't remember that, she scolded herself and flicked a piece of sopping wet hair out of her face, not at this moment.
They traveled all day, the rain stopping by lunch time and thankfully not soaking the buck fat that she had sneakily eaten while all the others complained about their empty stomachs.
"We'll camp here for the night," she heard Thorin call out from up ahead and she let Abe trot upwards, where the Company had stopped. But she did not get off him.
"Would that be wise?" she questioned the dwarf and he slumped his shoulders, too tired to argue,
"Are you going to be a nuisance about stopping here too?" he growled, still sounding dangerous although his eyes yearned for sleep,
"I agree with the lady," Gandalf said, emerging from within the ruins of what seemed to be a farmhouse,
"We should carry on to the Hidden Valley,"
"I have told you already, I will not go near that place," Thorin retorted and Farren hopped down from her horse, "
Why not?" she asked, almost innocently, "The elves could help us; we could get food, rest, advice."
"I do not need their advice." Thorin hissed angrily, causing Farren to scowl deeply,
"We have a map that we cannot read;" she replied venomously, "Lord Elrond could help us."
"Help?" he spat mockingly, "A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father." Only Gandalf noticed Farren's eye flash gold dangerously, her hand reaching behind her to stroke her bow, as if that calmed her anger,
"You are neither of them," the wizard interrupted, "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past."
"I did not know that they were yours to keep," Thorin said darkly and dangerously. Gandalf turned and angrily stomped off, back the way that they had come and Farren copied him, snapping at Abe who had attempted to stop her. No one called her back.
"He is the most frustrating dwarf I have ever met," she seethed several hours later, sitting upon a boulder and watching the sun set along the horizon. Gandalf stood only a few back, smoking a pipe and scowling,
"He has lost a lot," he replied simply and Farren hunched her shoulders, glowering,
"What? And I haven't?" she turned away from him and his sympathetic look, not wanting the pity, "He's lost his father and his kingdom; but at least he has a kingdom," there, her eyes flashed gold again, this time for longer and Gandalf noted how vulnerable yet deadly she looked.
They were silent for a moment and Farren stood, not baring being away from the defenseless Hobbit for any longer,
"I hope to the spirits that you return," she told him in a powerful voice yet her eyes were pleading, and he nodded, watching her leap away into the trees. She'd sensed something, something big and oddly not dangerous. Her ears picked up the sound of distant arguing and in a second, she knew that it wasn't the dwarves. Then the smell smacked her hard in the lungs, forcing her to crouch while her stomach convulsed uncomfortably. The scent of putrid, rotting and roasted flesh was closer than she anticipated and her feet seemed to lead the way, her head clouded and her eyes dreamy. But the three large shapes ahead of her startled the hunter within and she drew an arrow, squatting behind a tree and watching the three massive creatures stroke a large black horse, making funny mewling noises as they did. Her gaze turned to the fire in the middle of the clearing, noticing a roasting stick perched over it, covered in flailing arms and legs. And more heads seemed to be popping out of mouldy sacks in front of a pen full of chestnut ponies. Then she noticed one of the headed sacks hopping around on the spot, attempting to negotiate with the massive, hairless creatures that Farren recognized as Mountain trolls. And then she realised that the hopping sack was Bilbo and she tiptoed forwards, drawing her arrow back and taking aim at the back of one of the troll's head.
"And the dawn will take you!" came a battle cry and Gandalf appeared on top of a large rock, blocking the path of the rising sun and her brought his staff down upon it, splitting the rock and sunlight spewed over the trolls, causing them to squeal, dropping what they held (several sharp knives and sage) and attempt to run. Farren let out a cry, diving to the side, narrowly missing a rotting toe and a deafening snap nearly popped her ears drums.
The dwarves cheered as the trolls raised their arms to block the light of the sun, their white pasty skin slowly darkening to a grey stone, but Farren could only hold her cheeks in agony, staring down at her snapped bow.