Chapter 25
El watches in curious amazement as the giant pours a never-ending decanter of milk into each Dwarf's cup. Beorn had been extremely displeased with the group as a whole making themselves at home in his home but he'd been even more against the Half drake. He'd even attempted to use the axe against her. Knowing she wasn't meant to harm him, and being very interested in him overall, she'd sidestepped the blade but allowed it to come down on her tail. It split, the blade did of course, and she remained unharmed much to his annoyance. The Bearman calmed some after that. Whether from seeing he could not harm her or that she was not in the mind to harm him, El did not care. What she did care for was his transformation. She wondered if she too could do so, becoming fully dragon or dwarf just by will alone. She'd be sure to ask him but for now, there was talk to be had.
"So you are the one they call Oakenshield? Tell me, why is Bolg of the North hunting you?"
"Bolg?" Bilbo chirps from the doorway, rubbing his eyes and taking a place at the table "Who is 'Bolg'? I thought it was... um... Azog?"
"Two of the same ilk. " Beorn spits upon the floor and stamps it in "He is the filthy spawn of Azog."
"His sire must have sent him after us." Thorin pets El's head as she comes to sit on the floor beside him "You know of the pale orcs. How?"
"... My people were the first to live in the mountains before the orcs came down from the north. Bolg and his father Azog killed most of my family, but some he enslaved. Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him. Best watch your pet. They would thorough enjoy her."
He glares at El but she pays him no mind. The food smells delicious and after the last few days, she desperately wishes to try some. Seeing her longing gaze, or maybe just to spite the skin changer, Thorin releases her upon the table with a wave of his hand. She squeezes in beside her mate, taking the mug out of his hands and guzzling down the fresh liquid. She's never had milk but finds that she quite likes it. Beorn watches the exchange warily but refills the mug once she's emptied, much to her delight.
"There are others..." Bilbo starts, staring at the chain on their host's wrist before averting his eyes "like... you?"
"Once there were many."
"And now?"
"Now there is only one."
"If I were to learn to change my shape..." Staring down into her cup, El speaks in wonder "Would I be a Skin changer?"
"Perhaps but then... not at all."
"Can it be taught or is it a skill one is born with?"
"..."
"... Would you prefer to be a drake?" Gandalf asks as Beorn frowns at the dam, leaning on his staff beside the table. He speaks calmly but with intent "Or a dwarf?"
"Neither. I wish to be as I am." Completely oblivious to the stares she receives, the youth wipes her mouth delicately before turning to her mate. With a mischievous grin, she leans in and places a quick peck on his mouth, leaving him sputtering. Leaning her head back to pin the wizard with her golden eyes, she continues "It would be more convenient if I could conceal parts of my heritage when needed, yes?"
"That remains to be seen."
"..." When Gandalf says anymore, the skin-changer continues "You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn."
The conversation continues like a game of cat and mouse. El is completely unsure which side is playing which animal however she does not care. She is hungry and eats her fill. Breads, jams, honey. She devours them all, much to the amazement of those around her. She burns a lot of energy but she can also store quite a bit. Thanks to the dragon blood within her, she does not need to eat as regularly as the dwarves, so long as she prepares beforehand. Thus, she can limit her intake to match theirs while traveling and then make up for it in times of plenty. She'd not cared either way for the food in Rivendale but she very much likes the sweets here.
"There is an alliance between the orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldor. I would not venture there except in great need."
That word catches her attention, even as the conversation steers away from it. Necromancer. She's heard it before and always said with great fear. She attempted to speak with the wizard about it once but he immediately ended the conversation, as did Arwen. It was the only topic she would not speak with El about. All the books she'd poured through in Rivendell only mentioned Necromancy as something to be avoided. Staring down at her black claws, El knows some of her abilities are on the... necrotic side. The half-drake cannot avoid herself so it'd be best to learn more on the topic. Maybe a Necromancer would prove to be informative...
"What do you mean?"
At the sound of her bearer's troubled voice, El snaps out of her thoughts. Looking around, she finds a tense group listening intently to the skin changer's warning. She watches as his eyes never leave her treasure and a dark feeling rises in her belly. Her breathing becomes labored as he continues to stare. Beorn rises from the table without breaking his glare, completely unaware of the effect he is having on the half-dwarf. Her eyes go blind as the beast within fills her ears, deafening her to the room. The sound of her blood rushing through her veins is the only thing she can hear. That... and the darkness
Stop...
Stop it.
Mine.
Stop looking...
NOT him...
Stop.
He's mine...
He's mine.
He's mine.
He's MiNe.
He'S MInE.
hE'S mINe.
HE-
'Stop.'
The whisper from her mind is so soft that she can barely hear it over her rage but it's there. Strong and firm, like a heavy blanket over the swirling mass of her nature. The darkness within her hisses at it but cowers all the same. In a single word, the whisper guides her back into her right self before she even wonders what it is.
'He is alright.'
Hearing that slows the pace of her heart. It's true. If she listens she can hear her bearer speaking, though she can't make out the words. He does not sound hurt or in danger. He has no breathless undertones or aggression. He is safe.
'BREATH.'
Inhaling sharply at the command, the knot in her belly dispels. The scent calms her and she slowly realizes that she is bound. No... not bound. Secured. She is securely gathered and her face is pressed tightly against something. Taking another whiff of the intoxicating scent she identifies it. Leaning back, El notices that the table has been cleared and the other members of the company are going about their business as usual. A cloak swaddles her, and arms keep her pressed against a chest.
"Mate..." for it is her mate. Any other, aside from Thorin, would be dead if they'd dared to touch her so "What have you done to me?"
"... Couldn't have ye attacking the skin-changer for offering his services."
"Hm... You have my thanks for that. My bearer would have been displeased." instead of freeing herself, the dwarrow snuggles deeper into the embrace. It is warm there and his heart beats, letting her know she is not alone. Not wanting to risk her moving before he is certain she is in complete control of herself, Dwalin allows it. And if he enjoys it, he makes no mention of it "You also spoke in my mind."
"The ears on yer head weren't working."
"Hm... my One you may be but my mind is a dark place. I can not banish or forbid you from trodding the borders but I'd suggest you tread carefully... Lest you find something more drake than dwarf has found you in return."
"I'll keep that in mind, lassie."
"Hm... see that you do. Now... this room is a room, correct?"
"... Aye?"
"It is empty, correct? Private, even?"
"..."
"If I were to mount you in this empty private room, would my bearer find that unpleasant?"
"Glad to know yer feeling better."
The dwarf releases her, as she knew he would, but continues to eye her cautiously. He'd felt her rage rising through their bond before it was too evident on her face. He thinks 'too evident' but if anyone were looking at it in that moment, it would have been clear. There'd been no color in her eyes, just bottomless black pits with glowing edges. Her face was pinched into something demonic and all he could do was throw his cloak over her to hide the image as he crushed her to his chest. Everyone noticed his action, how could they not, but assumed she'd just done something inappropriate again.
It was the first time he's attempted to utilize their bond and he will be cautious if he must ever do so again. She is a dangerous thing, her mind even more so. He'd almost been sucked into her bloodlust when he stood at the edge of her enormous soul to call her back from it.
"Go, mate." She coos softly, almost enticingly. Her golden eyes shimmer as if an inky black lust for unnamed terrors didn't exist behind them "Find our treasure. You mustn't leave him alone."
"..."
"You promised he'd come first." standing with a stretch, the young dam appears to have completely forgotten her anger but Dwlain knows how quickly it could return. Huffing out a breath, she crosses her arms and lifts her chin to look down at him "Fear not. I'll go play with our hobbit."
"Avoid the Skinchanger."
"... Fine. I doubt he would assist me in my transformation anyway."
Dwalin watches El walk away. It isn't until she is out of his sight that he lets out the breath he's been holding. Kidhuzel is a mighty being, far greater than he'd ever like to give her credit for. He'd stood at the edge of her soul, just for a moment, and he will never forget what looked back. Something old, hungry... and in great pain. The darkness has swallowed her and she'd let it; using it like a shield. It was obvious that El had been alone for far too long. Long enough that more than just her mind bent. She very being protected itself by twisting into something... else. And yet, he could see the faint light in her and he could not leave her there. Coldly cloaking herself in agony and sorrow, no. He could not leave her there. Even at the risk of his own sanity, he'd offered the creature his hand and what came out of the dark was not a beast but a bright and bubbly thing that clung to him like he was her savior.
Dragons are solitary creatures but dwarves are not. The pitiful being at El's core was not meant to be alone. The darkness she clung so tightly to was not meant to sustain life. Against her very nature, she was forced to be bent and broken into something else entirely. Dwalin is no fool. Kidhuzel is neither a dwarf nor drake. The beauty has teeth and claws. Yet, he cannot leave her. Not anymore. The dwarf can only hope that each time he reaches in after her, he can make it back too.
Kidhuzel has trauma. She was left for over 1000 years ALONE, in her formative years. She had no real body but her soul was bound to that half-formed version of herself and her soul was very much aware. That's enough to drive anyone mad and it's still a very big part of her being. Dwalin caught a glimpse of it and stood his ground. Good on him. I wish the two of them luck with what I have planned. Until next time.