"Are you feeling alright?" a deep voice inquired.
It took Asta a moment but when she saw that the bird was looking at her she understood, "You can speak!"
"Yes, although we often choose not to. Are you all right? Your arm was hurt."
"I am fine now, thank you."
"Something is troubling you."
"I think that I have made some of my company very angry."
"How so?"
She was unsure if she should speak to this creature, she did not know if eagles were a noble race, or were like the ravens in the forest, greedy and conniving, but they had helped them, so she told him. She told him who she was and how friends were hard to come by. She knew because of her foresight that Azog was alive and that Thorin would fight him, so she vowed that when they met, she would join him, and prevent the death she had seen. She could never tell him about it because that was the only rule about being a seer.
"What is the punishment?"
"Generally the seer must give their life, in repair for saving one without their own power."
"This is grave news, you had no ill intent, and waited until the last moment to tell them did you not?"
"Yes, but I still told them."
"Fear not, child of the mountains, if your heart remains sincere then your friends will see it."
She lay on her stomach and putting her hands by her face she grasped some of the feathers at the eagle's neck, and squeezed them lightly. "Thank you."
The morning air was brisk at their altitude, but as the sun rose it got warmer. Once the sun was fully above the horizon she could see the eerie of the eagles. It was a high rock with an eagle's head roughly carved into the side with a flat top, for landing. One by one the eagles dropped their baggage and flew around. Thorin was first, then Gandalf who ran to him. As each dwarf was put down they sprinted to Thorin's side. By the time Asta was down, Gandalf had done his magic and Thorin was on his feet, praising Bilbo and hugging him. She was happy for Bilbo, for finally getting the recognition he deserved. Thorin let go of Bilbo and noticed a distant mark on the landscape. The Lonely Mountain was beyond the forest and a plain, hazy in the morning light. They all stared at it, with hope in their hearts and the feeling of success on their shoulders.
It was Gandalf who mentioned carrying on, "We should move from this spot."
"Yes, we need to get to the house before dark and although it is not far, we will need to collect a few things along the way." Asta stated.
When she was finished, a tension rose, everyone's backs remained to her, but when Balin turned to face her, he was livid. "Why should we follow you?" he could not be contented, and he accusingly continued "You knew. You knew that Azog was alive, that Thorin would die, yet you said nothing! You waited until the last moment, when he was on his back, blade to his throat to say anything!" his face had gone red and the others turned to face her, with mixed expressions. Some were anger, and some were just trying to understand why.
"What?" Thorin asked, unsure if he should be angry or not.
Balin carried on, "Probably on order from your King Thranduil, no doubt! You, his ward, so loyal and true! Such a high respect you must have for your elf king that you would risk the King Under the Mountain."
She began to say her argument, walking towards Balin, when a hand hit her left cheek. She stumbled at the force of it and her cheek split from her cheekbone to just before her lip, and blood began to trickle down her face. She was shocked to see Thorin standing above her, his shoulders raised slightly, making him look larger and his face twisted in rage. "Do you deny it?" he said this in almost a whisper.
She let her hand fall to her side as she righted her posture. "I-I am Thranduil's ward, and I-I did know about your death but…"
He slapped her other cheek leaving it in the same state as the other, but he had hit her with such force that she was now on the ground, clutching her wounded arm, that she had landed on. She sat on her knees, head pressed to the ground still gripping her injury.
"May you carry those marks for the rest of your life, branding you as a traitor to all of Durin's folk." Thorin said as he picked the skin from his rings. "We carry on."
"Thorin, wait…" Gandalf tried to plead.
"I'll hear no more of it!" He yelled, his voice echoing off the rocks.
"You can't go." Asta lifted her head, spitting the blood that had trickled into her mouth. What a sight she was. Her hair disheveled and crusted with warg blood. Most of the blood on her face and clothes still existed and now her new cuts stained her lips with liquid and her cheeks shined in the sun. Her shirt torn to make the bandage for her arm, freshly bleeding thanks to the throbbing and the fall.
"You, will not follow us." He grabbed her by the back of the head and she said it plainly, "You will die if you go."
"Really? Another vision of yours?"
"No." He still held her up by her hair, "Gandalf's magic can not save you from death. It can only slow its coming."
Thorin looked at Gandalf who nodded in agreement. He let out a grunt and threw her head to the ground. He paced back and forth in front of her. "What would you have me do then?! Go with her?! Oin has medicines, we don't need her!"
"Wrong." She stood up wavering before getting her balance, "The pain will come first, and then the blood will start pouring from your body." She looked around, her arms outstretched, "Can't you smell it? The Greenwood is sick, the animals will be hungry, the wolves out searching for clean meat, and when your wounds start oozing again, who do you think the packs will come for?"
Her logic was sound, and it made him angry. This woman tricked him once; he wouldn't let it happen again. When he turned to her she was putting a plant into her mouth and chewing it. She then untied a bandage from her arm and he realized that she was injured as well.
"Asta! What happened?!" Bilbo was at her side, not sure where to put his hands for fear of hurting any other concealed wounds. She took the chewed plant from her mouth and began to line her arm cut with it, then she replaced the bandage. She didn't cry, she didn't fuss at all and she didn't respond to the question, but Bofur did.
"It was when you were fighting Azog wasn't it?" he stepped from behind Thorin to look down at the evidence of her exhaustion that was painted in red all over her.
"You fought the Pale Orc?" Thorin looked at her, still angry, but with more sympathy that before.
"She fought him, and kept him from reaching you." Kili piped up.
Why didn't she say anything? Why wasn't she defending herself? If she was a dwarf, where was her pride? "Is this true? Did you save my life?" his anger was rising again.
She looked at him now, not directly, more at his chest, "No, Bilbo did that. I merely protected your body when he could not." She stood up again. "The magic will wear off soon and I need some extra herbs before we get to the house to make the salve you need. We should move." She walked past Thorin and the others parted. She didn't look at them, but they all watched her as she went on, and no one more so than Kili. He was so ashamed that his uncle had treated her so before knowing everything, and that his own voice was lost when she could have used it. They turned to Thorin for instruction and he stared at the ground looking before gruffing and carrying on, following Asta.
As they walked down the winding path he realized she was right. The Greenwood was sick, and you could smell it. A putrid, heavy smell like rotting plants and animals came from some deep crevice in the forest.
She stopped at a spring, called to Oin to grab some herbs that were close by and she cleaned the blood from her face. She wet her sleeve that was still in tact and wiped at the cuts from Thorin gently. They soon carried on and Thorin's side started to hurt in a dull pulsing way. "How much further?"
She noticed his pain and said, "We are here." Except, there was no house to be seen. Tricked again, thought Thorin. "You will particularly like it I think, Bilbo. I had it fashioned after what I could remember of Bag End, although taller to allow for my human and elfish guests." She walked to a tree and pressed a notch in the side, then slid a panel of bark up in a pivot above her head. Behind the bark was a hollowed set of stairs that led down into the ground.
"This is rather heavy so if you wouldn't mind hurrying through the door." Gloin came and took the door and said, "You go in lass, we'll follow." So she went down the staircase, ahead of the rest.
Each dwarf went down, the stairs were dark and narrower than Bombur would have preferred, but tall enough for Gandalf to stand upright. A small dim light at the bottom of the stairs flickered as Asta was lighting candles. "Take your boots off here please. Cloaks, hoods, jackets over in the closet please, and weapons in the first room to your left down that corridor." She had to point because there were four.
How like Bag End it was, plain walls, wooden floors and wood structures that supported the circular halls. The kitchen was much bigger, with elaborate cupboards that had floral carvings in the beautiful, lightly stained wood. A matching thick wooden table with long benches as seats took up most of the open space in the kitchen. The other prominent part of the entrance was the living space, a hearth and many chairs, long couches and thick rugs under each. The rest of the house was dark, but Asta was at work getting the candles lit, and the fire blazing. The fire, once lit, illuminated the room in such a way that Bilbo felt right at home. Quilted blankets and crocheted afghans were strewn across the couches, which had thick cushions on them and they looked so inviting.
She passed a candle to Gandalf and asked him to lead them to where they would place their other things, and sleep. "Dori, can you follow me." Asta asked while heading down the farthest right corridor, lighting the way as she went. Dori looked at his brothers then decided to follow. She led him deep into the hallway, "Here we are," as she stopped at a great wooden door, she turned the knob and he knew where he was in an instant. "Not as impressive as Bilbo's stores, but feel free to use anything you like, I'm sure everyone is hungry." She left him without looking at him, then setting her candle on a ledge of a cabinet she began to pull jars with herbs in them out and onto the table. She grabbed a bowl and started to pound the herbs.
"Thorin." She looked up in his direction from under her brow, "The room between those corridors, go there, strip down to where your wounds extend. I'll be there in a moment."
"You don't give me orders."
She sighed heavily, "Someone convince your king to get undressed would you?" She returned to her mashing.
"Come, Thorin." Kili led him to the room and shut the door behind them. Gandalf returned just as Asta was finishing up making the salve. His heart grew heavy at the sight of her, sitting at the table, crushing with all her might. She tried so hard; she risked everything, only for two new scars for the collection and an undecided fate.
"Asta, we must discuss your punishment." He mentioned, not without sadness. She didn't stop working, but instead, ignored him. "Asta…"
"Let me get everyone settled in, will you? Then, after I am finished with Thorin you may do what you must." She wouldn't look at him, she hadn't shed tears in a very long time, and she certainly wasn't going to do it here amongst dwarf warriors.
She knocked at the door, Kili opened it and they exchanged quick glances. He looked at her in pity and sorrow, and she looked at him, not knowing what to expect. He reached up and touched her cheek, which caused her alarm, as it was rare to be touched. He ran his finger along the forming scab. "I'm sorry." he murmured.
"Don't be. I have no use for beauty anyways." She brushed past him and he shut the door after looking back at her.
"What punishment, Gandalf?" inquired Ori.
"Punishment?" Kili was bewildered, "What more does she have to be punished for?"
Gandalf sat and lit his pipe. "The only rule of seers is one about death. You can not tell one about their own death.."
"What is the sentence usually?" Asked Nori, although they knew it would not be good.
Gandalf heaved a sigh. "Well Gandalf?" Fili urged. He had no great affinity for the girl, he did feel pity for her but he had more pressing to think about. It was Kili he feared for. His brother was attached to her in a way that he did not yet know how to describe and if he lost her, Fili did not know how Kili would react.
"You're going to take her life…" Bilbo's voice trailed off.
Kili was standing upright, "No! That's outrageous, for what does she have to answer for?"
"Would it be you Gandalf?" Ori looked as if he would cry.
"It has not been decided. I must go consult with queen Galadriel, her summer home is not far from here, so I will leave here tonight and be back before the sun falls tomorrow."
The room grew solemn now. They were mixed about her, most were sure she didn't deserve death, but they weren't sure that the accepted her. Ori and Dori of course had compassionate hearts and knew she was dwarvish through and through. Kili had such great interest in her, he finally had someone to talk about hunting, bowman-ship, and she was someone who would laugh with him. Fili on the other hand resented her for lying, but he knew she meant well. What went through his head went more fervently through most. She had elfish blood, and a loyalty to them that did not give her a gateway to the dwarvish realm. Balin was ashamed of his actions, but he still would not accept her into Erebor when the time came. Dwalin knew his brother's position on the matter, but rather than judge her on her blood, he judged her on her actions to which he felt she had merit. Oin and Gloin were of old blood, traditional and political, their view was shared with Balin, although they swayed when she fought with them. Bombur cared little for the trivialities of who was who and why, he was despondent and would not hate nor love her. Nori was similar, it took a great thing of interest to tear him of his love of gold and as far as he was concerned, if she didn't want any, she was fine. Bifur, although unable to express his thoughts was intuitive and knew she was willing to help their cause. Bofur was quite the opposite; he was taken with her. He could handle a sword with moderation, but the way she was in battle made him both jealous and full of admiration. Each of them desired something different at the end of their journey, and whether or not she fit into that, determined quite a bit of their opinion of her. Despite this, none of them wanted her dead. Most of them gathered around the fire, Oin tending to simple wounds, while Dori remained in the kitchen. When he began to cut the onions he did not wipe nor hide his tears, and no one questioned his reasoning.
When Asta entered the room where Thorin was she marched over to a set of drawers and set the bowl down. "I'm going to change."
"Shouldn't I leave then?"
"No, it doesn't matter. I just didn't want to startle you." She opened the top drawer and pulled out a new shirt, dark blue with a thick weave. She pulled the bloodstained shirt off revealing a bind around her chest that wrapped around the back of her neck as well. She slipped off her pants and grabbed a new pair, identical to the previous. He saw them, so he got up, for a better look. Countless white scars, they traversed her whole body. Three thick scars ran from her left shoulder blade to just beyond her spine and another along the right shoulder and arm that wrapped around to the front. The Great Goblin's words rang in his head "…the villagers chased you with pitchforks and steel…" She slipped her new garments on without flinching over her arm, and tucked her shirt into her pants. She reclaimed a belt from the discarded pair and she turned to him, "Don't look at me like that. I don't need your pity."
Thorin was scantily clad himself, his underclothes pulled to his waist, his shirts on the floor in a heap. His thick mane fell in front of his shoulders where you began to see the tooth marks. Bruises were forming on his chest and abdomen, so Asta knew she had to work fast. She went to him and felt incredibly small standing in front of him. His bare chest seemed to be wider than her frame twice over, and he was taller than her by at least a head, which made her feel like a child when she looked up at him. "I'm going to touch you now." Her face flushed, "Tell me if I cause any pain." Looking back down she began to press along his rib cage with trembling hands and sure enough he let out a small noise.
"I knew it. Two broken ribs." She spun him, "We're lucky those teeth didn't go right through you. Sit." She pushed his shoulder abandoning the idea of eloquence.
"Why didn't you tell me about Azog?"
"Would you have believed me?" she didn't look at him, but brushed his hair away so she could start cleaning the teeth marks.
"Probably not." He admitted.
They sat in silence for a long time and he tried to figure her out. What good would keeping him alive do for her? What reward? Was Thranduil requesting it? He realized that this was probably her first time seeing a man without clothes on, which explained her discomfort, but she worked methodically, moving from one wound to the next. Why did she just take the pain he handed to her, lying down.
"After the villagers…chased me away," She began to speak which he did not anticipate, "I crawled on hand and knee to the forest. I hoped death would find me there." She reached for more bandages, "but it was life that did. Prince Legolas found me and begged his father to save me. Once Thranduil found out who I was, when Gandalf came to me, he had decided to raise me. Apparently my mother and him were friends once. I grew up with him as my mentor, not my father. He taught me to read and write, to fight and how to follow orders; the one thing he didn't teach me was my heritage. One day, I found a manuscript about the day Smaug took Erebor, and although it said he chose wisely not to aide the dwarves and have his kin suffer the same fate, I felt enraged. I confronted him and he denied it. I didn't care that he didn't help the dwarves specifically," Thorin was ready to say something in protest but she put up a finger to tell him to wait, "I was angry because he chose not to help at all. No human, no dwarf, saw aide from them. They helped no elderly or women, children or injured. They did nothing and for that I abandoned him." Thorin looked at her, shocked at her abrasive response, yet perfectly unbiased. "Legolas and I are still friends, but I do not have any affection for his father left in me. I have no Lord, no King, and I serve no one." She took the chance to look at him and surprisingly he looked hurt.
He looked down at her bowl, "What does that do exactly?"
She was puzzled but answered, "It aids in pain relief, mending bones and small abrasions."
He dipped his hand in it and grabbed her jaw roughly. "Stay still." He rubbed the ointment on one cheek, then the other. "You did not deserve that. I misjudged you." He looked at her in her eyes and she finally had the courage to look into his. "Why did you save my life?"
"You have a destiny, and I don't need a vision to tell me that. The dwarves have known isolation and prejudice as I have. I would not wish that fate on anyone, and I believe you can take back Erebor, and save your people."
"So you would save me, so I can serve my people?"
"Yes. I will admit that I have suffered in my life, but there are moments of glistening light amongst those storm clouds. Your people deserve that light." She stood, set the bowl on the dresser and told him that she was done. She braced herself for what was outside that door. Gandalf would have told them by now.
"What stops you?"
"I think I am going to die, because I told them you were going to die."
"I don't understand." He said plainly.
"I can't talk about visions about death. I will be judged by the Guardians of Middle Earth."
A moment of shock came to Thorin, and he said, "I doubt our burglar would allow it." Then they walked out to the smell of rabbit stew filling the air and the warmth of the fire beckoned them to the cushions.