***AHHHHH IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING. SH*TS ABOUT TO GET REAL***
Everything was made of wood in Lake Town. Long ago Dwarvish steel and gold ordained and garnished homes even in the fastenings and joints, but that was very long ago. Now all that was left was rust and rot. Bilbo had a hard time not making noise on the creaky wooden platforms that they were traversing to the armory. Hobbit as he was, he was distracted. What had he seen there? In Bard's house? In the fading light? They had been in Thranduil's caverns for weeks, yes, but did it merely take weeks? Weeks for love to fade and bloom again? Was it love? Was it something else? Of course he couldn't be sure in the moment, of which he needed to be concentrating on.
The Dwarves moved through darkness swiftly enough, and human ears and eyes were much weaker than that of Elves, so they were sure to go undetected, or so they thought.
They cleverly made a tower, climbing up and into a simple window. Asta followed Fili into the dark place. It smelt of wood, steel and oil. Her heightened senses made her turn at every creak or croak of the floor. She felt strains in her eyes, as they grew wider every time something sounded from the dark. She had been younger, she told herself. She had been weak. Not this time. So why did it grip her so strongly now?
Those that entered set ahead to gather basic armour and weapons for all, no one had time to tend to Asta's anxiety.
Kili mouthed to her, nearly whispering her name, "Asta! What are you doing?"
She snapped around, facing him; paler than in the light of the sun.
He motioned with his hands and eyes to grab something. She stood a little taller, and breathed out. She was jeopardizing this. She needed to push it away from her. So she set her sights on short swords and daggers. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for one, then another and another, no longer looking at them and rather just taking them into her arms.
It's needless to say that she jumped into the air when Kili fell down the stairs. He dropped every weapon in his possession, sending them clambering down to the floor below. Asta knew what would come next. She dropped the remaining weapons and dodged to the floor to untangle a dagger from the slough of leather straps and scabbards that now were scattered at her feet. She felt one hilt and tried to lift it, it would not budge. Another slightly came up but entangled in others. She began to audible struggle like a desperate creature begging for mercy. The others saw this and quickly Dwalin was in front of her, only moments before the humans descended upon them, torches and swords at their throats.
Thousands of escape plans echoed in her head while she stood behind Dwalin, the light casting his shadow upon her. Her eyes were widened in the darkness moving rapidly, side to side. She reached behind her, bringing her braid forwards, hands violently shaking now. She held back tears as best she knew how, and unplaited the braids closest to her face. She then reached up and shook her hair with her fingers and then her head slightly. When finished she pulled her hands down in front of her face, fingers getting caught in the thick tendril curls that seemed to not be her own.
When they were led down the steps, each dwarf had two men, one on either side. Everyone had been caught, not that Asta knew. She bowed her head and watched through the spaces her hair allowed but less like watching and more like being pushed about.
The others knew better than to draw attention to her. Asta's history with Esgaroth and humans was enough to each dwarf, a reason.
Finally reaching the pier where a large house stood, the dwarves were pushed into a semicircle before the door, and set of strong steps. Immediately, Asta was wrapped in the arms of her brothers. Ori who had been not far behind, feigned being pushed forward so as to land next to Asta. Guards had firm grips on shoulders or collars like they would to their children, but Ori managed to put his right arm around Asta's, lacing her hand to his.
Nori stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, a guard holding his own. He would have turned and sneered had it not been for the shaking he felt in Asta now. Dori too had managed to find his sister's hand and held it slightly behind him, hiding it from view.
For Asta herself, she gripped them tightly, heart threatening to beat out of its cage, eyes at the ground. The warm lights of the torches had her wishing all at once that they were blue and not orange.
A crowd had gathered and soon a rather preposterous man stepped out of the house before them. Aged, balding and fat, Asta would later say how much he reminded her of the Goblin King. Warts and all.
She scanned her mind frantically. If they found her, the cursed one, would they remember? Many years had passed; she had grown, would they remember? What would they do? Burn her? Torture? Drive her off? Deliver her to Thranduil? They would…once they found out how they got into Lake Town, the company, all of them, to Thranduil. They would go back into the cellars, starved to death at the bottom of a stone cavern. Never to see the light of day again.
Suddenly the mood of the crowd changed. Shocked gasps and tiny whispers were erupting. The gripped hands of soldiers loosened and Thorin stepped forward. Asta brushed the hair from her eyes, still holding her brother's hands. She raised her head, just enough to see him.
He was speaking to the crowd. His voice was low, honest and sure. More sure than he had been in weeks. He did not look like the forlorn, aged dwarf she had seen in the cells. He did not look like the grumpy, stouthearted dwarf in Rivendell. She had not seen this dwarf. Powerful, strong, every turn on his heel reeked of conviction. It was the first time she saw him as King Under the Mountain. Not only in title but also in every aspect. She knew he was speaking but she couldn't hear the words. She just watched, mesmerized. His chest grew out, his eyes flickered with the flames and he charmed. His gaze fell on her only for a second but in that moment she was renewed.
She let her brother's hands drop. She positioned herself with her spine. She pushed the bushels of curls from her face. This was his power. To empty fear from her. To clear a path to the future, and he was convincing the crowd of the same when Bard sounded out.
"Death! That is what you will bring upon us." He strode to Thorin, looking down at him defiantly. "Dragon fire and ruin. If you wake that beast it will destroy us all."
"You can listen to this nay sayer," Thorin looked from Bard to the crowd, "But I promise you this: if we succeed all will share in the wealth of the mountain." He said this with great compassion as people began to nod in agreement around her, dwarves and humans alike. "You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!"
The sea of cheers that came from the crowd swelled in her own chest, making it so full that she wondered how she hadn't seen what the others had seen so plainly. Where then, did this admiration, loyalty and love swelter from?
Bard pleaded with the crowd, asking them to not forget Dale, the city burned the day Smaug came to the mountain. But his cries went unheard when The Master accused his line of failure, unable to kill Smaug that terrible day. Soon the voice of reason was flooded and left drowning as the voices of the placated many rose to greet and welcome the dwarves. For who is not easily swayed by honey when times are as bitter as they had been in Lake Town.
Asta knew taking the mountain threatened Lake Town, and had anyone asked her before, her assured answer would have been, "So be it." But now a twinkle of conscience glimmered in her. And as everyone around her rejoiced she felt a familiar presence call to her.
"Child of the Mountains… the wizard has been captured."
The Master had opened his house (and his cellars) to the company. They were all drawn hot baths and fresh clothes were provided. Not proper dwarf clothes, but fine clothes nonetheless. The food was gone fast, fish of all kinds, washed down with ale and brandy of the Master's private stock. They were all out enjoying the festivities. Even Bilbo was drinking and singing.
Asta could hear them from down the hall. She had bathed and put on the young boy's clothes she had been given. A deep green tunic with a sleeveless sheep wool vest tied with x straps at the nape. She let her pants from Lady Galadriel hang over a chair and the edge of the wooden bedpost, in hopes they would dry by morning. The ones she was currently wearing were less than comfortable. None of this was on her mind as she stood at the peaked window, looking to the mountain.
Vestos had reached her, telling her that the two wizards Radaghast and Gandalf had travelled to the centre of evil in the forest, but Gandalf had yet to come out. Radaghast himself had fled to warn Lady Galadriel, who would most likely call upon the other Guardians of Middle Earth, for if one had been taken…then the evil was far more formidable than they had believed. In that same breath, Asta's fortitude would be tested to protect the forest, one of Galadriel's sources of power. So she waited. Restless and with frequent glances at her closed door. Soon, she would be sure of it. Soon.
She took off her vest, heat emitting from her. She had not eaten. She hadn't had anything to drink. She could not. All she could do was await Vestos' voice or a pull at her very soul. And then it came.
Outside her room Ori had the sudden realization that Asta had still not returned from her bath. He felt his brotherly duty swell and he picked the best of what was left from the table, put some ale in a cup and started down the hallway. Both hands being full, he knocked on the door with his head.
"Asta, I thought you'd like some supper." To which there was no reply. 'Perhaps she's asleep.' He countered, so he set down the food, and turned the handle, releasing the mechanism. He then picked up the food and edged himself in backwards. When he turned around he felt the plate began to slip from his fingers and a roll tumbled to the floor.
Asta was floating, not high but off the floor most certainly. The hair she had plaited in two around her face was pushed back into a flowing barrage of curls and even that was floating. Her hands and arms were stretched out to the sides and the moon caught on her body casting a strange and elongated shadow at the floor.
Ori put the food on the table and began to run down the hall, but he stopped himself. He shouldn't draw attention to her. They had all agreed that at Bard's house. He breathed in, composed his very sobered self and walked into the dining hall. His subtly was anything but, so it was a good thing the ale and Brandy had been passed around. He marched to Thorin and Balin looking at them with severe concern.
"My King, my Lord. Would you kindly join me in Asta's room for a moment?"
Puzzled, Thorin his foot on a stool next to him, glanced at an equally puzzled Balin and so they followed. Upon reaching the room, they waited, but Ori entered, then quickly closed the door behind them.
Thorin and Balin were shocked, and after a mumble about "trouble" and "incredible" Balin walked around to look at her face.
"Magic. Deep Magic. Her irises have gone white. She may be here in body but her mind and soul are elsewhere."
Thorin looked at her face and as he did her eyes began to cringe and close. Her body tensed. Out across the sky a while surge ran through the clouds, quickly followed by a red streak across the sky.
As the red flew over Lake Town, Asta fell to the floor, caught by Balin and Thorin. Ori began calling her name as the colour returned to her half open eyes.
"It's alright. They're safe now. The evil has been purged from the forest."
"Who's safe lass?" Balin asked.
"Gandalf, Lord Elrond, Saruman, Lady Galadriel and…" she paused as Vestos' voice rang in her ears, "…the forest." With this she closed her eyes.
"It is over." Balin said with a degree of gladness.
Thorin then reached under her arms and lifted her into her bed. She was heavier than she looked. He turned to Balin, "Tell Dori and Nori." And Balin bowed and left the room. The then turned to Ori, "Watch her. Come tell me when she wakes."
He didn't have to wait long before he caught Ori's eyes peering at him from the hall. She was spring-like, this one, so quick to bounce back. Once in the room he was treated to the sight of Nori putting a pillow behind her back and her tired, but open eyes smiling at Dori. He was pushing a roll into her hands. She gently tore it and put a piece in her mouth. Thorin cleared his throat, causing them all to look at him. "I would have words with you, Asta."
She blinked a few times "Of course your Grace. At your leisure." She said it with the slightest tone of sarcasm.
"I would have them alone." And the brothers glanced at each other then at Asta. They each gave their own last primps. Nori plumped the pillow, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she touched his hand and smiled up at him. Ori turned the bedding over her feet and put a candle next to her bed before kissing her forehead. As Dori placed a fresh pot of tea next to the candle, "Nice, calming chamomile." He said with a wink and a touch of the side of his nose.
They gently shut the door behind them. One window was next to the bed; open wide letting in the damp air, curtains rustling slightly. A small table was next to the bed, just under the window. A plate upon it, now almost devoid of food. Her pants still hung slack from the end of the bed to the only chair.
He walked over to the bed slowly, "That was new." He smirked with intrigue.
"For me as well." She smiled with all the energy she seemed to muster. "But I think it will be the last." She turned her head to glance out the window.
He moved closer, standing next to the bed, "What was it exactly?"
She sighed heavily. She wouldn't look at him, but he could tell her eyes were welling up. "It has been a very difficult day."
He sat on the bed; not as comfortable as his, he remarked, but suitable. Her face was cast in two colours of light. Warm candlelight flickered under her chin, and moonlight just touched her forehead, the clouds parting slightly. She had her hair back in her usual warrior braids, two braids parted from the centre of her crown, trailing to the back of her head where they would usually meet a larger one in the back, but not tonight. She let the braid that usually would be there, be free and full. He looked down and put her hand in his, placing his thumb gingerly on the top of hers. "It has."
It was the permission she had been looking for and she let two fat tears fall from her eyes to the blankets below, before wiping her face with her sleeve, temporarily releasing her hand from Thorin's, only to put it back. She told him about Gandalf and the Necromancer, the battle that had just ensued. She told him that she was torn between the love she had for Gandalf and the life she wanted for herself. All the while he listened, stroking her hand as she spoke.
"I don't think Gandalf will be meeting us at the Lonely Mountain." She looked at him with a small smile, "But something tells me you wouldn't have waited."
"There's no time. Durin's day is tomorrow."
"You've almost made it. You've come so far. How do you feel?"
He sighed, and looked out the window, across the lake to the looming Mountain in the mist. The blue light of the moon caught on the deep red shirt he had been given. It was decorated with a small-knotted design at the chest in gold and green thread. His eyes shone in the light of the candle, and the silver in his hair glistened in the light. "Like with a small push, I could open the door to the halls of my forefathers." He looked back at her, smiling from under his freshly tended beard.
It was as it had been in the Greenwood. A simple, natural mood of two souls that had touched once before, and long ago. It was this warmth and easiness that he passed to her when pressed his lips to hers. He had looked at her and with no thought in his head he edged closer, and put his free hand to the side of her face, thumb near her temple.
She wasn't shocked in the way that she didn't understand what was happening so much as how this was happening, but she found herself leaning into it. He smelt like the rosemary they had put into her bathwater but also fresh linen and something like wood.
He was gentle in his touch, as if she were a bubble from soap about to pop. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling its smooth rhythm, and trailing it up to his shoulder. His hand now freed was placed on the other side of her face, under her hair, thumb catching at her ear.
His beard tickled her upper lip and rubbed at her chin, as he moved his lips around hers, warmth spreading between them. They stopped to catch their breath and Thorin put his forehead to hers. Their eyes locked and she laughed before turning her eyes down.
He didn't care that it was the Elven Queen's words coming from him now, because they didn't feel like hers. They belonged to him.
"Stay in Erebor." He had his hands tracing her jaw now, eyes searching hers. "Stay with me."
Asta looked at him for what felt like a long time, and she let her heart stop and start before kissing him again, in answer.