Chapter Seventeen
Serafina woke the next day feeling sluggish. Her eye was swollen and sore, and the noises of breakfast and packing up camp were loud and unwelcome. The hobbits whispered and pointed at her puffy eye, Gimli was not so tactful.
"Well good morning lass!" He bellowed with a chuckle, "You're a sight for sore eyes this mornin', pretty as a she dwarf on mid-summers night!"
Gimli's comment was greeted with guilty laughter from the men, wizard and a half-smile from the elf.
"Are she dwarves pretty then?" asked Pippin with a mouthful of bread.
The elf bent low to the inquisitive hobbit in appearance to keep his answer between them, but his clear smooth voice rang out, audible to the entire company.
"She dwarves, Pippin, are generally a hand shorter than friend Gimli, a span wider and equally as hairy. Most men and elves find it difficult to distinguish between male and female dwarves, except on mid-summers night when the she dwarves braid flowers into their hair and beards, and dance and sing all night long until they are red with exhaustion and until their voices are as course as the hair on their chests." Legolas paused for effect and Pippin looked between Serafina, Gimli and Legolas then swallowed. "Pretty?" Legolas asked to finish with silky innocence.
Pippin was saved answering by the strangled laughs from the fellowship. Serafina's face was definitely as red now as a she dwarf on mid-summers night. She shared her glare between all members of the fellowship. Few would meet her gaze but their amusement was clear on their faces.
Serafina deliberately avoided all conversation for the remainder of the morning. While they were walking she walked alone. She was sulking, that much was quite clear. By lunch time the jovial mood of the company still remained, they had stopped on a rocky outcrop. Serafina assumed that some explanation or history about the place had been shared – yet this didn't interest her, especially not today. The hobbits prepared lunch and discussion began on the route the fellowship should take next. From the bits that the thief listened to Gimli was set on going through the mines of Moria. Gandalf disregarded this opinion completely was informing the company about the Gap of Rohan. Serafina watched as the hobbits became as disinterested with the conversation as she was, and moved away to practice their swordcraft. The girl followed, and sat watching from a short distance. Merry and Pippin were obviously in desperate need of some tutelage, they kept accidentally hurting themselves and each other when they didn't mean to.
It wasn't long before Boromir and Aragorn came over to assist. Serafina sighed at the sight of them both; she was not sure which one she wanted to see less today. Boromir was never a welcome sight, but for some unknown reason he was slightly more tolerable today. Perhaps it was the satisfaction for him to see her face mangled and puffy that made him slightly more courteous. Perhaps it was Gimli's slight on her appearance. Whatever the reason, Serafina found Boromir's presence less aggravating than yesterday and was too distracted by the other man to focus hate and loathing on the Son of the Steward.
Aragorn, she had avoided all day. Though she thought that perhaps he had been avoiding her as well. His presence was completely unsettling. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered his eyes from the night before. Hastily she pushed the memory away.
Serafina was interrupted from her thoughts by a call from one of the most unlikely people to seek her attention, "Hey! She dwarf! Come; let's see how well you defend yourself with one arm and one eye!" cried the Son of the Steward.
Screwing up all of her determination the girl stood and walked over to the men and hobbits. She did not want to. But pride called as it so often does, and Serafina answered. Aragorn was sitting a short distance away from Boromir, with the out-of-breath hobbits. Serafina didn't spare them a glance as she walked past.
"So Serafina, you claim to be good with your knives," began Boromir standing squarely in front of her.
"I am good with my knives."
"Unfortunately for you, before your knives reach your opponent you will have been run through with a sword. You would do better to give your knives over to the hobbits to aid food preparation. Here," he said as he flung a short sword at her feet, "use this."
Serafina risked a glance in Aragorn's direction; he was watching with the same intensity in his glance as the night before, but his face was impassive. The hobbits were easier to read. They held a curious mixture of unease and innocent rapture on their faces. Serafina wasn't filled with courage.
The thief took a deep breath and set her jaw. Bending down to pick up the sword she tried to prepare herself mentally for the imminent fight. But she felt as though her composure kept slipping away. Straightening up she heard the whoosh of air as Boromir readied himself with his sword. He moved as if the sword was an old friend practicing a well known dance the two of them loved like nothing else. Tentatively Serafina tightened her left handed grip on the weapon and lowered her injured arm by her side – there was no point keeping it tucked up as she normally did, she knew she would need it for balance. As she lifted her eyes to meet the man's, a wolfish grin spread across his face; he was ready.
Suddenly he moved towards her in what she assumed was a lung. He quick reflexes saved her and she blocked the blow. Before she had time to compose herself or regain her strength he was swinging at her again – this time from a different angle, Serafina had just enough time to duck quickly under it and reappear around the other side of him. In the split second she gained from changing sides Serafina tried to form an attack, she lunged desperately towards him and he waved her sword off in a block that appeared as effortless as a horse flicking its tail to rid itself of flies. They continued this was for a minute or so until Boromir with shaming ease flicked her sword out from her grasp. In an instant reaction Serafina ducked around him and reached for her knives with both hands. She kicked at his arms in a desperate attempt to disarm him, but his grip was too strong.
"Do you see thief? Your knives cannot reach me at all," came the victorious cry from Boromir.
Suddenly Serafina smiled, cheek and mischievousness spilled over her bruised and red face. Boromir's victorious expression faltered as he took in her smile. Two small shouts of war came from behind Boromir as Merry and Pippin came to Serafina's aid. Within minutes the hobbits had Boromir defeated on the ground, and Aragorn had roused himself to help Boromir. Serafina sheathed her knives and began to walk away. She had only walked three steps when Legolas spotted a low black cloud moving closer.
A/N: Please read and review if you would like. Thanks for reading and I hope you are enjoying it.