Chapter 11. Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold
"There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go." From The Hobbit
Gemma had read somewhere that the human body was not designed to be sedentary or sit still, but to walk and be upright for the majority of its lifespan. Whoever had come up with that thought had never walked through the Misty Mountains, nor had they been forced to follow the grueling pace that Balin mercilessly set for their trek. Balin may look old, with his long white beard and wispy white hair, but he certainly didn't act it. Gemma was, unsurprisingly, straggling behind the rest of the group; the last in a line of dwarves and one hobbit. Bilbo was somewhere towards the middle of the group, not seeming phased at all by the journey. She would see him pop out of line every once in a while to turn around and look at her. Gemma wondered if he was checking on her or checking to see if he could catch one last look at the sanctuary they'd left behind. Either way, her heart warmed when she caught his eye and she felt the tiniest bit of loneliness leave her heart for a moment until the sinking feeling of utter displacement would cloud her thoughts once more.
They'd left Rivendell two days ago and while the troop was not out-rightly rude to Gemma, they certainly didn't seek out her companionship either. Gemma was sure that Thorin had explained to them why they'd had to leave in such a hurry. And while she knew she should feel at least slightly guilty for not noticing the missing dress and endangering the others, she really didn't. Gemma felt perfectly content at the excuses she had ready for whenever she did feel tempted to give in and maybe apologize to the group. After all, she had just been thrown into a situation completely outside of anything she'd ever dealt with, let alone thought possible. She'd literally been running for her life to escape from being warg chow. Gemma was alone in this world, for all intents and purposes. The only reason she was being allowed to tag along was because she had the stone and, fortunately for her, it was too stubborn to let anyone else keep it. She owed them nothing.
Gemma wasn't watching her feet and her right foot slid on the shale-topped ground of the mountain. She didn't fall, but she let out a soft "oof," and she felt someone's gaze fall upon her. When she looked up, she just caught sight Thorin's head turning around quickly. That too, had occurred several times these past few days. Gemma was no mountain climber and was prone to stumbling on the unfamiliar terrain. She'd made no serious mistakes so far, but any change in her pace or footfalls and Thorin would glance in her direction. Unlike Bilbo's friendly look, Thorin's was a scorching glare. It was fleeting, but she still felt the heat long after he had turned away. Probably making sure I haven't chunked this stupid rock off the Cliffside, she thought contemptuously, scowling at the pouch that held the Ulunsuti swinging from her hip.
After two days of sweat-filled climbing, increasingly sore muscles, lembas bread, and little conversation, Gemma's mood was grumpy and unforgiving. Her disposition felt almost as blistered as her feet. She wanted a bath and sleep and a huge glass of iced tea and then she wanted to cry at the thought that she would only have one of those things available to her today…and even then it'd be about five more hours or so before the sun set and Thorin called for a halt.
She sighed at the thought of bedding down for the evening. Sleeping on the ground was for the birds and she felt even more alone at night with only the light from a low fire and the stars, and Bilbo of course, offering a semblance of comfort.
Bilbo was a blessing. He was a chatty fellow and excelled in small talk. He'd asked about Gemma's family at the beginning of their trip into the Wilds, but with Gemma's father's death fresh in her mind, she steered away from the topic and Bilbo had enough sense to notice. So instead they spoke of hobbies and the weather, which had yet to change so far. Gemma worried about what to tell Bilbo and the others about her world. How much would they be able to understand; how much would they find foolish or unnatural?
She told the hobbit about her weaving and showed him the simple blanket she'd made for her father's funeral gift. Gemma was grateful she hadn't lost it as the evenings were chilly. Bilbo spoke of the books he'd read and the family heirlooms he'd kept in pristine condition, but what really brought a spark to his eye was the topic of his plants. He'd said mournfully that they were sure to fall into disrepair without him to tend them, but hoped his hobbit neighbors had the forethought to at least keep in good condition the tomato plant that bordered his fence line as it had been planted by his mother. Bilbo would like to come home to some semblance of familiarity he reckoned.
Gemma knew a little bit about plants. Her father had the wherewithal to teach her from a young age about what plants to leave alone and what might help to cure minor problems. She saw Ori covertly taking notes by the fire when she and Bilbo conversed and Dori had perked up when Gemma mentioned that pine needle tea was good for a common cold. When Bilbo felt the need to walk with her as she lagged behind the others, he'd point out a few of the flowers they'd come across and what they might mean. She never been interested in the language of flowers, but she could see how important it would be in a culture that thrived around "good tilled earth". Bilbo had even offered her a smoke from his pipe once, but she turned it down swiftly and Bilbo was all too happy to keep it for himself. Gemma felt indebted to Bilbo for the moments of kindness he spared her.
She thought she wouldn't miss Gandalf, but his possible understanding of magic and otherworld-ness was a comfort she didn't realize she had until it was gone. She was so separate from everything –and everyone– around her. In the evenings she would reprimand herself for not planning for the fast-approaching events to come, but she was just so exhausted and no where near as hopeful as she'd been in the Valley.
Gemma stumbled again, this time enough to where the dirt under her feet scattered over the side of the mountain falling farther than she was comfortable contemplating. She absolutely loathed heights. She was slowly adjusting to the change in altitude, but she'd never strayed that close to side in her journey so far. Her wandering mind was causing her feet to wander as well and Gemma shivered, quickly skidding away from her current position. Thorin had stopped this time to look at her. Gemma caught his eye and smiled tremulously. The dwarven king quirked one eyebrow up and started walking once more.
She righted herself and her knee protested, it would surely bruise from the fall. She slowly put pressure on it and found it steady enough to continue on, if not slower than before. She had hobbled a few steps when she spotted a smattering of odd purple flowers. She plucked one to inspect it further. It was rather pretty with several blooms but only one stem. She tucked it gently into the side flap on her duffel bag to ask Bilbo about later.
Right before sundown, they'd reached the crest of the mountain. One mountaintop breached within two days, with several to go. Gemma was proud of herself for making it this far, but did not look forward to doing it all over again tomorrow. She threw her bag off her shoulders when the dwarves started pulling kindling from their packs and lowered herself slowly to the ground. Her muscles ached, but her knee hurt fiercely. She hissed once she stretched it out before her and Bilbo looked at her sharply. He walked over from where he'd presumably been helping Bombur start a stew, and said "Are you alright, Miss Gemma?"
Gemma squinted at him with a small pout on her lips, "My knee hurts." She looked down at it and gently prodded it with her fingertips. It felt a little swollen, but she was too sore to bend forward and roll up her tight pant legs.
Bilbo looked at her sympathetically, "I'll bring you some dinner once it's ready."
She, a dusty heap on the ground, smiled graciously. "You're the best, Bilbo." The hobbit blushed slightly and waved off her gratitude before going back the large round pot the dwarves had put over the fire. This was the first hot meal they would be eating since Rivendell. They'd all just consumed dried meats and bread while Gemma had taken small bits of the lembas bread Annúnel had generously provided.
The wind rushed angrily through the mountain tops and around what little shelter there was to be had in the crevasses where they'd laid their temporary campsite. Gemma pulled out her father's blanket and added another tunic atop of the one she had on. It was snug, but it helped fight the biting cold that was creeping across her limbs as the sun continued to vanish beneath the horizon. She scooted a little closer to the fire and therefore the dwarves surrounding it. Mainly, Ori on her left and Bifur on her right. Ori gave her a small gentle smile which Gemma returned.
Gemma wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and waited, feeling rather useless. Next to her, Ori had pulled out pair of what looked to be knitting needles and a ball of brown yarn. The young dwarf saw her questioning gaze and said, "It'll be winter soon enough."
"Yes, I suppose. But you knit?" she inquired.
Ori looked down at the scarf that was wrapped around his neck in several loops then back at Gemma, "Do you not?"
"Not very well. I'm not too shabby at weaving, but that's different."
Ori remained silent and Gemma quickly backtracked thinking he might take insult, "It's not that there's anything wrong with knitting, it just seems so, I don't know, normal. You guys kill orcs with axes and swords, but also knit? I'm just surprised. I didn't mean anything by it." Gemma paused and looked at the fingerless mittens on Ori's hand. "I'm actually rather impressed. Something that well-made could be worth a pretty penny."
Ori shrugged and started winding the yarn around his needle, "Nah, it's just easier to make my own things."
She nodded and sighed, "I wish I was that self-sufficient." She leaned back on her hands, twitching when she stretched her legs out even more causing her knee to suffer more.
"What do you mean?" The dwarf asked with his head tilted slightly.
Gemma waved her hands at him, gesturing to his knitting. "I can't make anything as useful as that. I'm not particularly good at crafting anything."
Bilbo had wandered over and sat between her and Bifur. "Do you have no trade then?" the hobbit questioned.
Gemma paused, "…No, not particularly."
"Are you married then?" Ori asked, peering at her face. "You look old enough to be married."
She snorted, "Well, I guess technically I'm old enough, but I am certainly not married. I never planned to be married until I was at least thirty. I've got too much to do before then."
Kili coughed from where he was sitting across the fire and asked incredulously, "Until you were thirty? How old are you now?"
"I'm twenty-three years old, thank you," Gemma defensively replied.
"Twenty-three years!" Bilbo exclaimed. "You're so young! No wonder you have no trade. You must still live with your family." He looked sympathetic and patted her hand.
Gemma was taken aback, "No, no. I'm an adult…sort of. I'm still in college, but I moved from home a few years ago. I can survive on my own."
Dwalin grunted next to Bifur, continuing to sharpen the axe in his lap.
"Well," Gemma hesitated, "I can survive on my own in my world."
"Must be an easy life you lead lass," Dwalin retorted haughtily.
She frowned and admitted, "In some ways, compared to your own, yes. But my people have had their fair share of hardships."
"What do your people know of hardship, of struggle? You've clearly had a cushioned life, never strayed far from home. You can't even walk a mountain without holding us back by a day and you're already injured," Dwalin accused and pointed at her leg.
Gemma's face flushed harshly. "You don't know anything about my people, or about me. I don't go making poor assumptions about you or yours!" She took a sharp breath and asserted, "We may have more in common than you think. My people were forced from their homes, too. They were slaughtered just because of who they were, all for greed and prejudiced hatred. We've lost our culture and our language and had to adapt to new surroundings, a new way of life. And while that may have been a hundred years ago, we are still fighting for our freedoms, for our lives. We are never seen as equal; we have to fight for everything! At least you can try to get your home back from those that stole it!"
Dwalin had stood up during Gemma's fierce diatribe. His fists were clenched, one around his axe, and his cheeks were ruddy with anger. Gemma stood up clumsily and seethed, "I've inherited more courage and stamina and hold more resilience in the tip of my finger," she held up her middle finger to him, "than you ever could in your big stupid head."
The muscled dwarf took a threatening step towards her, but Bifur grabbed his arm, stopping him and Gemma stomped away, glad for the twinge of pain throbbing through her knee.
Gemma sat on a rock, huddled under her blanket, far enough away from the group to where she could still see the fire, but hardly anything else. The sun had fully set and she was trying to convince herself to make her way back to the group to sleep. She felt cold and sore and pathetic. She had missed supper, but the sharp wind was far more distracting than her hunger pains at the moment. Gemma felt mildly guilty for having yelled at Dwalin. She was already on thin ice for the whole 'leading the orcs right to them' thing and that escalation earlier couldn't have helped.
She was about to stand when she heard a crunching footstep on the rocks beside her. She turned sharply and saw Thorin staring down at her. Gemma swallowed. He did not look happy.
"You shouldn't have removed yourself so far for so long," Thorin reprimanded.
Gemma just huffed stubbornly and looked away, not wanting to admit that she was about to head back to the group before she saw him.
Thorin wanted to roll his eyes at her childish lack of response. "You are unsheltered and unprotected. If you get ill or injured, we cannot afford to fall behind more than we have already."
Gemma stood, shoulders hunched. "Fine," she said tersely. "Lead the way."
Gemma stumbled twice in the dark before she remembered to pull out the Ulunsuti. Her vision cleared and she could walk around the difficult terrain without pause. The stone looked much brighter than it did when she last pulled it out in Rivendell. It had more streaks of purple and now some of light blue that were attempting to drown out the white of the stone.
Thorin glanced behind and saw the light between Gemma's fingers. He stopped, causing Gemma to do so as well before she ran into him. The dwarf king wavered before asking, his hand held out, "Might I see it?"
Gemma, secure in the knowledge that she could take it right back without trouble if needed, placed it gently in his palm, barely grazing his thumb with her palm as she drew her hand away. In Thorin's grasp, the stone's light dimmed noticeably. "Huh," Gemma said.
Gemma could make out the shape of him pull it closer to his face and wondered if he could see anything in the darkness. They stood looking at the stone, or what little Gemma could see of it, for a few minutes before Thorin gripped her hand from where it was hanging by her side and brought her finger up to place it on the Ulunsuti. The stone immediately brightened and Gemma could see clearly once more.
Thorin's face looked both troubled and awed staring into the stone. His grip on her hand was warm and she could feel the rough callouses on his fingers. He looked up into her eyes suddenly and muttered, "You mystify me." A butterfly took wing in Gemma's stomach and she blinked, speechless.
Thorin placed the stone fully in her hand and took a step back before turning to walk towards the fire and his Company.
Gemma blinked again, hand clutching the stone close to her body, and mumbled, "Well, hell," before following him quickly back to the safe circle of sleeping bodies.
AN: Yes, I know this chapter is short, although it is slightly longer than my last one, but I wanted to get something out to ya'll before the weekend. I hope it wasn't too dramatic and I hope you like it!
Thank you for the favorites/follows! This chapter is dedicated to Chaney2500 because they were the only one to review. Hey Chaney, YOU are wonderful!
Please review and let me know what you guys think. I have no beta so all mistakes are mine.
I love you all, you beautiful sun-spots!
Katie out.