ANOTHER ODD ENDING. WHOOPS. I CAN'T THINK OF BETTER ENDINGS WHEN I ACCIDENTALLY GO OVER MY TYPICAL AMOUNT OF WORDS PER CHAPTER, WHICH (IF YOU WANT TO KNOW) IS ABOUT 35,000 WORDS, GIVE OR TAKE A LITTLE. HOWEVER, WHEN I GO OVER THAT, I END UP HAVING TO CRAFT A GOOD PLACE AT ABOUT THE TYPICAL WORD LENGTH, WHICH USUALLY MEANS SLIGHTLY ODD ENDINGS. SORRY. ANYWAY, PLEASE ENJOY!
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER
(A)
"I didn't know you had a soft spot for children, Mia." I note, smiling. Mithra snaps her head to me.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you handle children well." I reply, frowning. "I meant it as a compliment."
"Oh. That's not really...they like me and...I guess they've grown a little on me." She replies. I chuckle.
"Children are a gift. Liking them is not a bad thing."
"I know." Mithra replies. "I was one once." I can't tell if it was sarcasm or not. Regardless, I smile.
"So were we all." I counter. Mia sighs.
"Look, I just...enjoy their innocence." I frown. "Nothing more." I tilt my head to the side and turn a little to get a better look at my friend.
"Mithra...I only meant that I thought it was sweet." Mia frowns.
"I am not sweet." There's something...broken in her voice. Before I can get a reply out, she's out on the porch. Fili is suddenly at my side.
"What was that about?" He asks worriedly. Oh, yes, he fancies her. They may even be each other's One. Not that they realize that. Yet.
"Mithra is so good with kids, but when I comment on it, she got...weird. Then she left." I explain. Fili frowns.
"What did you say?" He most definitely fancies her.
"Nothing but compliments on her handling of kids." I reply, shrugging. Nothing I know about her background would make her react that way.
"I'm sure she's just tired. She'll be alright." Fili assures me, though I suspect that he is just as much telling that to himself.
"Of course." I reply, unsure myself. Sigrid then passes out clothes along with the others.
"They're not much," Bard explains, "but they'll keep you warm." I smile and nod at Tilda as she offers a bundle of clothes.
"Thank you, Tilda. These will do nicely until my own clothes dry out." She nods and scurries off to Bilbo, who is wrapped in a blanket.
"Thank you very much." He politely says in between shivers. I head into a side room Sigrid indicated and swiftly get changed, all the while wondering about poor Mia. She's still wet, no doubt cold and tired, alone on the porch with her thoughts. I find that I have a pair of what appear to be Bain's pants, with one of Bard's shirts. Ah, well. At least they fit fairly well. I head out, note that Mithra still isn't back in yet. I then frown and offer to take the clothes Sigrid had reserved for Mithra to her.
=#=#=#=#=
(M)
They don't understand...Aili doesn't understand.
I am not a nice person. I have done so many horrible things...I have slaughtered so many people. Granted, they were all evil in one way or another (mainly bandits, corsairs, and the like), but still...I just...
How can they say I am this nice, friendly person..? Oh. They don't know. Right. I suppose I should go apologize, say it was just my exhaustion talking, or something...I really have no idea where this is coming from. Ugh. I heave a sigh and turn to head in just as Aili pops out the door, new clothes in hand.
"Sigrid said these would fit you." She mumbles, handing me the clothes without further comment or eye contact.
"Aili...I'm sorry." I apologize. "I guess I'm just tired and when I get too tired, I get into a weird mood." She shrugs.
"It's been an incredibly stressful day. Everyone's at the brink of a meltdown here." She replies. I blink.
"Yeah...I guess..." She smiles and pats my shoulder.
"You've held up well under pressure." She compliments. I sigh.
"Thanks." She then leaves. I exhale slowly, letting all my emotions out. It won't do to have the Company catching on to the fact that I am not all I've displayed around them. I can't...can't explain and I need to keep it together. I grab the clothes and head back inside. Fili is almost instantly steps up beside me as I head to the bedroom to get changed.
"You alright?" I smile.
"Yeah. It was, um-I'm just tired." I explain hurriedly. Fili gives me a searching look, as if trying to figure out just what I was all about. I gulp. "Fili?"
"Yes?"
"I need to get into the bedroom."
"Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry."
=#=#=#=#=
(A)
I smile and walk away a little to give the pair some privacy. I spot Thorin at the window, where he stares at the Lonely Mountain with a longing and intense stare. I can only hope we get to the mountain in time.
I then spot Kili, grimacing and trying to walk, but can't seem to commit to walking. I frown and walk over.
"Kili?" I ask. He knows what I was asking without words. He gives me a nonchalant look I don't buy for a moment.
"I'm fine."
"Kili, it hit your knee socket. That's bound to be need proper treatment." I reply worriedly. "Please. Let Oin look at it. It might be serious." I attempt to reason with him by not suggesting it is serious, but probably worth a look, just in case.
"Aili, please. I am fine." I sigh. I'm not getting anywhere and if I tell Oin to look at it now...wait. Ah. I think I know how to get him to let Oin treat him.
"Kili, you do realize that you are being a hypocrite, right?" He frowns.
"How?" I sigh.
"You made me get my ribs treated, and they were only starting to get serious. This is no different. You are just being prideful. Please. That looks bad. Just...Oin can help." Kili simply looks down and I know I've lost. I huff in annoyance and turn, catching sight of Bard, Bain, Bilbo, Balin and Thorin all gathered at that same window.
"All Dwarves know the tale." Thorin defends calmly. I cock a brow.
"Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon." Bain replies. Ah. That old folk legend to try and boost faith in Men. "He loosened a scale under the left wing." He adds. I frown. "One more shot and he would have killed the beast."
"A pity he never got the chance, then." I mumble politely. I did somewhat mean it, too, despite not being sure if the tale were true.
"It's only a fairy story, lad." Dwalin grumbles, crossing his arms. "Nothing more." I groan. Thanks for doubting and degrading our hosts, Dwalin.
"You took our money. Where are the weapons?" Thorin asks, slightly tersely. Bard tenses slightly at the gruff tones, but exhales and relaxes a little.
"Wait here." He instructs, then stealthily exits the house.
"Tomorrow begins the last days of autumn." Thorin remarks as soon as Bard is out of earshot.
"Durin's Day falls the morn after next." Balin adds. "We must reach the mountain before then." I nod.
"Obviously. But we're within an hour on the lake and a day's hike from the mountain. As long as we leave no later than ten, I believe we'll have plenty of time to get to the door." Thorin nods.
"Indeed." He replies, smiling a little at me and I can't hide a small grin back.
"And if we do not?" Kili asks. I frown. Normally, Kili is the bright-eyed optimist. All three of us are. Why the change? Perhaps the pain of his wound and the mounting tension now that we are so close yet still so far from our goal. "If we fail to open the door before that time?"
"Then this quest has been for nothing." Fili replies. I sigh, but nod. I suppose we all must face reality sometime, but...I never guessed this quest would be the thing to do it. Before anyone can reply, Bard comes back in and dumps a wrapped bundle on the table. I hurry over and help move a few things out of the way before he unwraps it. However, when he unravels the cache, I can't help but be a little underwhelmed. Hammers (the kind used for construction or light forging), harpoons, chains, all basic tools that have had a little enhancement. All of them rusted and crude. I nearly protest, but hold it in when I realize that this is truly all that Bard could manage and even though it is not what we're used to...it's quite literally all he can do. He has no other option.
"What is this?" Thorin asks grumpily.
"Pike hook." Bard snaps back just as testily. "Made from an old harpoon." He adds. I nod.
"Creative." I mumble, trying to sound at least a little appreciative. After all this man has done for us, it's the least I could do.
"And this?" Fili asks, holding a hammer-like thing up.
"Crowbill, we call it." Bard replies. "Fashioned from a smithy's hammer." It's clear no one likes the weapons, even Bard, but it's all that's available. Better than nothing, really. "Bit heavy in hand, I'll grant, but...in defense of your life, these'll serve you better than none." He adds, as if replying and adding to my thoughts.
"We paid you for weapons." Gloin complains sourly. "Iron-forged swords and axes."
"Gloin, please." I mumble. "This isn't a Dwarf kingdom. These are not wealthy people." I whisper.
"Be that as it may..." Bofur replies, shocking me slightly. "It's a joke."
"Compared to what we're used to, yes, but there's nothing else available." I reply, crossing my arms. "We can use these."
"Your companion is right." Bard calls angrily. "You won't find better outside the city armory. All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key." I can hear his intense frustration and annoyance at these ungrateful Dwarves. I turn to Bard.
"Apologies for my companions, Master Bard. It has been a long journey and a...hectic last few days." I add, knowing we hadn't been the kindest to this man who had risked all in order to get us into Laketown. And that no one else was likely to apologize, except maybe Mithra or Bofur. Bard nods, sighing.
"I understand. Times are changing. People can't afford to be too trusting anymore." I sigh.
"Does not excuse us." I reply, bowing slightly.
"No, but I accept the apology nonetheless." He says after a moment.
"Thorin." Balin says, breaking the silence. "Let's take what's on offer and go." He pleads. "I've made do with less. So have you." I catch Balin's slip up too late; he'd given away Thorin's name. Until now, we remained an anonymous group of Dwarves passing through Laketown and up to the Iron Hills. Now...it would take a man less quick-witted than Bard to solve the mystery of why we are truly here and why now, of all times.
"I say we leave now." Balin and I add.
"You aren't going anywhere." Bard snaps.
"What did you say?" Dwalin growls.
"There are spies watching the house and probably every dock and wharf in town." Bard growls. I nod.
"Oh. Right. That's why we had to get in through the toilet." I recall, unable to help a small grimace. Bard nods.
"You must wait til nightfall." Bard then sighs heavily and steps outside. Mithra looks at me before following Sigrid to the kitchen and helping her cook a little something to eat. I go to help, as well. Mia then sighs and heads outside, as well, cursing herself under her breath.
=#=#=#=#=
(M)
"Bard, I am sorry for the trouble we've caused you." I mumble, shifting from foot to foot beside him.
"That's not why I am out here." He replies. "There's something the white-haired one said..." I gulp. Had he uncovered our quest already? I always knew he was a sharp thinker, but...I am impressed.
"What is it?" I press, but Bard merely glances at the Lonely Mountain and frowns.
"Don't let them leave." Bard instructs Bain, who is curious as to what we're doing on the porch.
"Bard?" I call softly. "What's going on?" He whirls on me.
"That's Thorin Oakenshield in my house. Do you not know what this means?" He growls. "Did you honestly not know who your companions are?" I gulp.
"Of course I do. I've learned much about them on my journey. They are good Dwarves, if a little...rambunctious at times."
"They will bring only ruin and dragonfire." He snaps. I frown.
"What are you talking about?" He grabs my wrist. I pull away. "Just lead the way." I growl defensively. I hate being led around. It reminds me too much of the bruising grip Valahal dragged me to the 'beating room' with. Bard merely stalks almost angrily away.
"Come! Come and see what Thorin Oakenshield brings with him." I frown, but run after him and catch up. Together, we head to the marketplace, and straight to the...carpet and tapestry booth? What? What is Bard up to?
"Hullo, Bard." The owner, whose name escapes me, greets then notices me. "Welcome back, Earthstrider." I nod in return as the man looks to Bard again. "What you two after?" Bard huffs impatiently, scanning the tapestry section eagerly, as if his life depended on it. I shrug and follow him.
"There was a tapestry!" Bard calls. I sigh.
"Bard, that's like saying there was a bale of hay in a Rohirric barn." I muse. He growls as his search continues to be fruitless.
"It was an old one!" Bard ammends.
"That doesn't help!" I reply, getting a little mad.
"Where's it gone?" Is his only reply.
"Bard, take a breath and explain yourself. Please. We have no idea how to help you." He merely exhales in frustration and continues searching. I roll my eyes and lean against a container for a second before Bard raids it.
"The Earthstrider is right." The owner calls. "What tapestry you looking for?" Bard then cheers under his breath and brings it forward.
"This one." Bard calls, spreading it out on the others, eyes searching it faster than he could possibly take it all in. I must admit, it is beautiful. I then realize that it traces the Royal lineage of the Dwarves, ending with Thorin himself. I gasp. Whoa...
"There were Dwarves, I tell you. Came outta nowhere." I hear Hilga muse to a few men in a canoe. I gulp. "And the Earthstrider is back, as well." She adds. "Full beards, those Dwarves had. Fierce eyes, too." She goes on and I have the irrational urge to shut her up. "I've never seen the like, though what the Earthstrider is doing with them, I can't say." I gulp. There goes my peaceful visit, it seems.
"What are Dwarves doing in these parts?" One of the Men asks.
"It's the prophecy." Another, elderly, man sitting nearby, puts in. Bard takes a step back as if physically struck.
"Prophecy...prophecy...prophecy..." I whirl on him.
"Stop saying that!" I bark. "What's the prophecy?!"
"The Prophecy of Durin's Folk." My head snaps around to look at the elderly man that had replied.
"Which is?" I force out politely, fists at my side in frustration.
"Has the Lord of Silver Fountains returned?" One lady asks and I can't help but overhear. Wow. Rumors spread fast in this town. Bard pales, looking nauseous and terrified, gazing at the tapestry fearfully.
"Bard? I've never seen you like this before. What's the prophecy?"
"The Lord of Silver Fountains." Bard whispers, almost in reverence, or in fear. Hard to tell. "The King of Carven Stone. The King Beneath the Mountain shall come into his own...And the bell shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King's return. But all shall fail in sadness, and the lake shall shine and burn..." He trails off, looking definitely fearful now. He then takes off. I have no choice but to follow him. I dare not remain and be recognized and questioned.
"Bard, that's just some person spouting off dramatic rhymes." I point out, in hopes of placating him. I have never seen him like this. It's highly disconcerting.
"No!" He barks, whirling on me. "It is prophecy. It is the future, if those Dwarves reach the mountain!" I swallow.
"Bard...prophecies are not always iron-clad. They are sometimes no more than rhymes." He sighs frustration and continues the hectic pace toward his house.
"If they wake the dragon...we will all die!" I gulp. He may have a point. What hope is there for fourteen Dwarves, a hybrid, potentially a Wizard (but most likely not), and a Hobbit against a dragon? How in Manwe's name are we to counter his wrath?! Finally, we reach his home...
Only to find a disturbing lack of Dwarves.
"Da, I tried to stop them!" Bard groans. I rub my temples.
"That Company is comprised of idiots, lead by an even larger idiot." I moan.
"How long have they been gone?" Bard asks, apparently not hearing me.
"About thirty minutes now." Bain replies. Bard curses.
"They'll most likely be at the Armory by now. They can not enter Erebor." I frown, moving quickly and blocking the door.
"Erebor is their home, Bard. Their birthplace. Stolen and lost to them for many years. You cannot hope to stop them." I point out. Bard glares at me and pushes past.
"I can try." He growls. I groan, running a hand through my hair, before taking off after him. This was not going to go well.
=#=#=#=#=
(A)
The sun has set by the time we creep around the last corner before the Armory.
"For the record, I wanted to wait in the house." I mutter.
"Aye, and you had a point, but...it may take longer than a few hours to find the door. We can't leave the day we have to find the door. Better to find it, then wait, then risk not finding it in time." Bofur points out in a whisper. I sigh, knowing he has a slight point.
"And as soon as we have the weapons, we make straight for the mountain." Thorin adds in a whisper.
"What about supplies?" I ask. Thorin is focused on directing everyone, however, and does not reply. I gulp. I, for one, do not like the idea of having no food between here and Erebor, especially if we have to wait a day to get inside, where there may or may not be food. This is not a well-thought-out plan.
"Next." Thorin barks softly, and Bilbo tuns forward onto a kind of ramp made from a few of the Dwarves. He propels himself into the window neatly. Soon, we are all inside.
"Bofur, please." I whisper as he hands me a breastplate. "I'll be fine. What are you doing with those two axes? You won't be able to carry two up the mountain." He shrugs.
"One was gonna be for you." He muses. I smile and take one. I try a small swing and find it too heavy.
"Bit too heavy, Bofur, but nice thought." He beams at me, even as I put it back. "I prefer swords, anyway." He shrugs.
"Oh. Right." I pat his shoulder and move toward the swords. I grab one, complete with sheath and belt, looping it around my waist. I then look for knives, and find four. I stuff two down my boots (mercifully dried out now) and another two into the small of my back. I then notice Kili, staggering under the weight of a few axes and swords. He's pale and shaky. I frown.
"You all right?" Thorin asks. Kili nods.
"I can manage." No, you can't, I add internally. "Let's just get out of here." He adds, walking away. I walk over.
"Kili, you haven't been looked over, have you?" He shrugs and doesn't say a word. I groan, but know no words will sway him. He then starts heading down the stairs to leave, when his leg apparently pains him and he stumbles, dropping the weapons noisily as he does.
"Well, we're doomed." I moan under my breath as guards start converging on us.