Ahh, I had a nice intro, but FF logged me off and didn't save any of it, so...

Enjoy the chapter!


The Loudest Silence

Chapter Nine


"You!" Gavin snarled upon realizing just exactly who he bumped into.

I stumbled backwards away from him and tripped over my own feet, shoulders hitting the shop window a little too roughly. I hadn't seen many broken noses in my life, but I could recognize one, and I could tell that this guy was pissed at me for bestowing such a gift. My eyes widened when I noticed Jean right beside him, who only caught on to the situation when he spotted me as well. His face was equally displeased.

The two companions were between me and the belt stand where Balin was, so getting to the Dwarf was out of the question. Balin had looked over upon hearing the commotion, but I didn't have time to signal for help before Gavin lunged, forcing me to jump to the side and break into a sprint when they pursued.

God, I was already running for my life. Again.

My immediate thought was to circle around back to Balin, but every route I spotted was blocked or a dead end. Stopping too long to look for a way back had the Men on my heels in no time, and I was left with no choice but to continue running. My heart hammered in my ears as I twisted my way between groups of disgruntled people, around wagons, and through the dirt streets, using my short stature to my advantage. Hell, it was my only advantage.

These jerks were gaining on me, and I quickly tried to remember which way it was to the Prancing Pony instead while my mind was in a blind panic. This was an awful plan, I'm sorry to say. My legs were still so sore from riding, but I could hear the pace of their heavy footsteps, Gavin yelling something about his nose and Jean telling him to shut his trap.

It felt like forever before I found the inn, relief consuming me when I finally spotted a cluster of familiar Dwarves in front of the building. I simultaneously cursed and thanked the Valar. Thorin already knew I was going to be trouble and he called it back at Bag End, so kudos for him. This whole dreadful scenario only managed to prove him right as I bee-bopped towards them, causing a ruckus when the douche bags following me ran into people.

Thorin, Dwalin, and Gloín, along with Bofur and Bifur, looked up in surprise as I darted over to them, fear obvious on my face. When Bofur realized I was being chased, bless his soul, he pulled me behind himself and his cousin. Just in time too, as Gavin and Jean almost literally skidded to a halt in front of the group.

"Are ye alright, Miss Hollander?" Bofur asked over his shoulder quickly. Pretty much gasping for breath at this point, I nodded with a grimace, shifting my attention back to the tall duo.

"Dwarves?" Gavin said incredulously. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Oh no.

Aforementioned Dwarves bristled, and Jean elbowed his partner, showing he had at least some kind of brain. It didn't escape my notice that his left hand was bandaged where I had chomped down on it before. "Be quiet, you dolt," Jean muttered in annoyance.

Thorin momentarily glanced at my trembling form shielded by the others and, as if he had made some kind of decision, stepped to the front of our assembly.

"What's your purpose in harassing this young woman?" the King asked, agitated.

Gavin opened his mouth, but Jean answered quicker, saying, "This young woman is a thief and has stolen from us."

What a jackass! I thought, enraged by this absolute pack of lies. When the Dwarves looked at me with question – wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, you guys – I shook my head furiously. 'Liar!' I mouthed, glaring at Jean.

Both men appeared more confused by my lack of sound rather than my denial of theft. It was only after the fact that I realized it would have been smarter not to let them know about that, and hoped it wouldn't bite me in the ass later. Even if Gavin didn't seem exactly perturbed by the revelation, Jean was too observant.

"And what, might I ask, has she stolen from you?" Thorin inquired, obviously not falling for their bullshit.

Jean hesitated just the tiniest amount, sidetracked by my muteness, but it was enough for his deception to fall through. "Our… Our coin. She stole our money."

There was a loaded pause before Thorin shook his head with a sigh, saying with a hint of smugness as he stared them down, "As I thought. If your reason for pursuit were admirable, you would not have felt the need to lie to us."

Gavin jerked abruptly, balling one fist and jabbing his other hand my direction. "That devil broke my damn nose is what she did! Bit my brother like some kind of rabid animal the other day!" he blurted, annoyed that their crappy plan had been thwarted.

"I'd bet there was a reason she did all that as well," Bofur concluded, in a surprisingly severe tone.

With a humorless chuckle, Dwalin eyeballed their injuries and said, "Looks to me like the only thing the lass stole was your dignity."

"As though you Dwarves can speak of dignity," Jean spat at them suddenly.

Oh shi –

"And what exactly is that supposed ta mean?!" asked Gloín in outrage. Bifur joined in and made hand motions that looked vaguely threatening, but I wasn't sure.

"It's exactly what it sounds like, nitwit!" Gavin stated.

Jean maintained a sneer, adding, "Your kind all the same – greedy, foolish, and arrogant."

"How dare you insult my people? We are more honorable than you could ever hope to be in your entire miserable life," Thorin growled, looking ready to tear this guy's head off.

"You truly believe yourselves to be honorable?" Jean asked with skepticism, like he was genuinely confused. He barked a harsh laugh. "I wasn't aware that honor involved being an eyesore to the world. Does it also involve delusions of grandeur? Because Dwarves have no place here. Go back to your little tunnels and mind your own business."

"You made it my business when you came after a member of my Company," Thorin said, rage being stirred up by these morons. I paused at his words. Was I an official member then?

Jean looked over to me and I resisted the urge to duck further behind Bofur, glaring at him as he scoffed, "This sorry excuse of a woman? The honor you claim to have must be poor indeed. Resorting to little whores of another race because your own women would rather be with a real –"

Bifur suddenly stomped forward with a holler in Khuzdul, causing Jean to take a fast step back, shutting up. The Dwarf was barely caught in time by Bofur before he could waylay the man, while I gaped in shock. What the hell was wrong with these guys? Was everyone here this prejudiced against Dwarves or did I just manage to acquaint myself with the two biggest pricks in all of Middle Earth?

"C'mon now, they aren't worth it, Bifur!" insisted Bofur while grappling to keep his cousin's arm in one place, though I could hear his own suppressed ire. "These two don't know what they're talkin' about!"

"Control your dog," Gavin teased. I suddenly wanted Smaug to drop from the sky and eat this dude.

"I've had enough of your mouth, ye pretentious rats," Dwalin said with venom, apparently feeling the same way as he took a step forward with his fists prepared, knuckle dusters and all. Gloín was more than gearing up as well, but before an actual brawl could start, there was a welcome interruption.

"What in Arda's name is going on here?" we heard Gandalf ask as he approached the two groups, followed by Balin and Bilbo. Bifur finally ceased in his attempts to club Jean, looking over as the rest of us did.

Balin held up my forgotten backpack and bedroll, looked to me and said, "That's what I'd like to know." Oops.

"These pitiful Men were just leaving," Thorin announced resolutely at the same time that Jean said, "We were having a nice chat." I don't know where he learned meaning of 'nice', but…

Thorin and Jean glared at each other for an ungodly amount of time before Jean took a step back, tipping his head in mock defeat. I mean, Thorin was the unrivaled champion when it came to glaring, and our buddy that was obviously a wizard had come marching over, so it was no wonder the man gave up.

"Until next time, Master Dwarf," Jean said, faking civility. His dark eyes turned sharply to me and he gave a smile that belonged on Dateline. "Miss Hollander."

Oh. So he heard Bofur say my name. Fantastic.

Jean dragged Gavin away – who was still making foul comments like a sore loser – and when they were finally, finally out of sight, the group relaxed a significant amount.

Well, most of us, anyway.

Thorin rounded on me immediately, causing Bofur and Bifur to step down from their shielding positions respectfully. "What was that?" he demanded, blue eyes locked onto my green ones.

I winced internally. And externally. Oh my God, he was the opposite of happy.

Bree was in a dusky twilight by that point, with lanterns here and there, the sun having dipped over the horizon at last. In the dimness, I could still easily tell how absolutely pissed the Dwarf King was with my surprise guests. His frown would've been visible from outer space, time of day irrelevant. We were the same height, and yet I felt smaller than ever.

Unsure of how to explain, I floundered for a moment with my hands out, and then I carefully patted my wound and gestured towards where the terrible two were last seen. Thorin watched my movements and glanced to where I pointed, before giving a slight nod, still looking utterly peeved but also contemplative.

Bofur broke the silence first. "Ohhh, so those two – they did that to your arm, lass?"

I nodded with a scowl.

"And they – That's not why ye were in the river, was it?" he continued. I gave my answer yes, and proceeded to use my arms in a mimicry of running, ending with a tiny lift of my torso to signify my jump and a wiggle of my hands to represent water. Of course, Bofur looked appalled.

"You should've broken both of their noses, not just one," Gloín added fiercely, surprising me. There were vague sounds of concurrence from the group. "Treatin' a woman thus. Disgusting."

"All things considered, I believe it could have turned out much worse," Gandalf spoke up. He sent me an encouraging smile, which I tried to return, grateful. "Miss Hollander managed just fine. No harm done, in the end."

"She should have stayed with Balin regardless," Thorin said in disagreement. Though he was no longer seething, he was still clearly angered by my unnecessary production, and my already weak smile died.

I glanced between Thorin and Balin as a pleading look made its way to my face. My mouth opened and my hands came up to explain of their own accord, but I ceased the movements when only silence came out. My face scrunched in frustration up as I stared at the King, my arms falling to my sides. Oh, why the hell couldn't I have my voice back?

Moving from his spot next to the wizard, Balin stepped toward me. "I'm glad to see you're alright, Miss Hollander, but don't go givin' me a scare like that again," the old Dwarf said, stern but kind, handing me my bedroll and backpack. I could only smile with sheepish guilt, relieved when his expression became softer in acceptance of my silent apology.

Balin turned then, saying, "She had no choice but to run, Thorin. I saw what happened. The Men had her cut off from me, and the next best thing was to find one of you. Which she did."

Thorin's face had still not relaxed when he glanced back to where I was. That perpetually judging look was focused on me for too long, and I hugged my bedroll closer to my chest, subconsciously putting a shield between us. I had done screwed up in his eyes, even if I wasn't actually at fault.

He exhaled heavily, not saying a word to me. Instead, he announced to those who had just arrived, "Supper is waiting." Then he turned away and entered the Prancing Pony.

My head lolled backwards momentarily as I sighed. This is it. This is how the quest is gonna be.

Our small crowd filed into the building after the King one by one, Bifur and Bofur still hovering nearby me protectively, and I spotted Bilbo joining as well. He greeted me as we stepped into the Inn together.

"I'm glad the spat with those Men was resolved before things turned unpleasant," he said, subtly trying to shift the mood, and my lip curled a bit.

Bofur let out one sarcastic laugh at that. "Hah! Unpleasant? That wasn't exactly what I would call hospitable conversation back there."

The Hobbit pulled a face, correcting himself and saying, "Well… More unpleasant. Before there were fists involved, I suppose I should say."

It was smoky and loud inside the Prancing Pony, a handful of customers taking up tables as they guffawed with their drinking buddies. All in all I thought it would be much busier. The light of a fireplace, coupled with lanterns here and there, made for a cozy feeling despite the shady looking characters skulking in a few corners.

Speaking of odd characters, we spotted the rest of our companions sitting at a table on the far side of the room, adding to the noise as they ate dinner and laughed at each other's tales. Oh sweet biscuits. I'd forgotten during the drama how long it had been since I'd eaten, but was definitely reminded at the sight of food.

As we joined our table, the remaining seats were quickly taken up and I was unsure of what to do with my stuff, so I ended up just hanging my backpack on the chair next to Bilbo, shoving the bedroll in the new straps. I made to sit, but before I could even pull my chair out, I sensed someone come up beside me. Curious as to whom it could possibly be, I turned and met the blue stare of one Thorin Oakenshield.

Oh, so now he had words for me?

In a low tone that barred no argument, he said, "You are to speak with me after dinner."

I squinted on accident at the word 'speak', my face questioning. Thorin realized what he said and was instantly annoyed by his own word choice, but mostly at me for pointing it out.

"There are still questions that need to be answered, one way or another, Miss Hollander," Thorin rumbled with finality, boot steps heavy as he walked away. He chose a spot on the farthest side of the table from me as he possibly could and didn't look back over to me once.

Well this is going great so far, I thought bitterly, regretting my choice in tattoos.

With a sigh, I seated myself between Bilbo and Ori, focusing in on the conversation around the table as we ate. The food was simple and I was perfectly fine with that, completely ignoring the alcohol in favor of water.

"So what kept you all?" Kili piped up. "I thought we were going to have to finish this meal off without you!"

"Not that I would have minded!" Nori laughed, causing others to chuckle in agreement.

Dwalin was the one who answered Kili's question first, after a large swig of ale. "Ach, just a couple of ninny's who thought they could pick a fight with us."

"They dared to speak ill of our kind, right in front of our faces!" Gloín said between bites.

"Aye! As if that wasn't enough, they were the same ones who cut up Miss Hollander's arm the other day," Bofur put in. I shrank down at the sudden attention, nibbling on some bread.

"What?" Fili asked, looking at me, then back to Bofur.

"Did you teach them a lesson then? For insulting us and injuring a lady?" Kili questioned with a weird combination of concern and excitement at the prospect of hearing about a fight.

"Nay. We didn't even know 'til afterwards they were the culprits," Bofur said, then turned to me with a laugh. "Miss Hollander had apparently left her own goodbye present though!"

"Fella's nose was purple and blue. Broken plain as anything," Dwalin said, seeming the slightest bit astounded that I'd managed even that. "Though I would 'ave liked to break some other things as well, the way they spoke."

I kind of wished I could clobber Jean's nose too, but frankly, I was blessed with what little luck I had through both encounters. I mean, the first time, I reacted out of desperation and wound up almost drowning because of it. The second time was just me hiding in terror behind the Dwarves. Unless the Company was merely surprised because I looked like I couldn't even claw my way out of a wet paper bag, in which case… Yeah, okay. I could see it.

Bilbo turned to me with slight bafflement at my violence, and quietly asked, "Did you really break a man's nose?"

I felt warm from embarrassment, shrugging with a guilty smile. On the other side of me, Ori was almost making the same face as the Hobbit. Did I really look like that much of a pansy?

Eventually the subject shifted to tales of other broken noses, to a story of Dwalin breaking some guy's arm in a skirmish, and ending on which supplies they had acquired that day, checking to be sure they were all on the same page. During their discussion, I tried to keep up with all the details just in case I had to know what we had and didn't have, but was lost halfway through. There were certainly different requirements than camping back home, not that I had done much of that anyway.

This world ran so differently. I hadn't even thought about what would happen to me if I couldn't go home at the end of all this. Had Yavanna even mentioned it?

"…I have no doubt that you will thrive, however, and do what is needed of you."

I tried to remember all of her words, sifting through to find anything about it, and came up short. How long would it take my mom to figure out I wasn't in town anymore? Would Hazel be worried eventually, despite the fact that we didn't text but once or twice a month? Or was this a Narnia deal where I would live out my whole life in this world, only to wake up beside the road as a 21-year-old again?

It worried me that I wasn't more concerned.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy chairs scooting across the floor as the Dwarves ended their conversation, standing up from the table to disperse. (So much for paying attention, Jenna.) I abruptly remembered what I was supposed to do after dinner and cringed internally, glancing around for Thorin.

It didn't take long to spot him. Thorin stopped Ori, who was following his brothers to the stairs, and said something I couldn't hear. The young Dwarf looked anxious but suddenly made an 'oh!' sound, replying as he nodded vigorously and reached into his satchel. Ori pulled out several sheets of parchment, an inkpot, and a quill…

Ah.

Thorin was going to see if I could write, wasn't he?

My question was answered moments later, after the King thanked Ori and the younger Dwarf continued on his way. I warily shouldered my backpack and hugged my bedroll to my chest, padding over to Thorin, him giving me a brief look.

He simply said, "Come with me," and made his way to the stairs, writing supplies in hand. I followed up the steps and down the hall obediently, trying not to rile him up more than I'd already managed. I knew he wasn't going to like what was about to happen with my writing, so no sense in pissing him off ahead of time.

A few of the Dwarves were talking in the hall while others were getting ready to retire for the evening, shuffling about and picking rooms. I assumed we would be waking up at the ass-crack of dawn again, so that wasn't all that surprising, and I suddenly hoped whoever I was bunking with didn't snore.

Thorin opened one of the doors, waiting for me to drag my nervous feet through the entry before following as well. The room was nice for its time, I supposed. It had two beds, a simple wash basin with a partition folded up next to it, and a chair beside a small table. (I mean, it wasn't exactly a Holiday Inn, but what did I expect?)

Other than furnishings, I did notice a bulky, sheathed sword leaning against the wall, propped by the closest bed's headboard, along with a very distinctive axe. It took me about two seconds to recognize them as Thorin's. I guessed this was his room for the evening, probably sharing with Dwalin or someone.

I was quite surprised to see Gandalf sitting on one of the beds, as well. He greeted me with a smile and a nod, and I did the same as I set my stuff off to the side. That was when Thorin closed the door for privacy – or whatever he thought that was going to accomplish. I had no doubt his nephews would find their curious heads pressed against the wall in a moment. Probably several others too, after I thought about it.

Thorin began, "I'm perfectly aware you cannot speak, which is…"

The Dwarf caught me not paying attention to him, staring at the wall while this ran across my mind, and he trailed off in irritation. That was, until we all heard a small shuffle on the other side of the door and my eyes flicked over to meet his. I smiled awkwardly and Gandalf chuckled, whereas Thorin just looked 120% done.

The Dwarf King turned back to the door, opening it one swift movement, causing Fili and Kili to nearly face-plant into the room. The caught themselves just in time.

"Uhm, we just wanted to bid you goodnight," Fili said, thinking quickly.

"Yes! Goodnight, Uncle!" Kili agreed with wide eyes that betrayed everything. He peered past Thorin and into the room, adding, "You two as well, Mister Gandalf, Miss Jenna!"

I gave them a tiny wave before they scuttled out of sight – followed by the obvious sounds of additional feet and shushed warnings as other eavesdroppers fled too. Thorin closed the door again with agitation.

"As you were saying…?" the wizard sitting a few feet away prompted, still smiling softly.

Less amused, Thorin continued. "As I was saying…" he directed towards Gandalf, prior to setting the parchment, quill, and ink down on the little table, then focusing on me. "Bearing in mind you cannot speak, I have brought these. Balin mentioned seeing a book and journal in your bag before, so I assume you know how to read and write. Of course, the wizard claims it will be ineffective, but I wish to see that for myself."

Thanks a lot, Balin, I thought with indignation, even though I wasn't really upset at the old Dwarf for the lack of confidentiality. He was just doing what anyone would do in this scenario. I couldn't blame him for being loyal and telling his king of a possible way to communicate with the crazy chick from another world, because let's be honest, it was logical.

I looked to Gandalf for a second, searching for reassurance and simultaneously wondering how he knew my writing wouldn't work.

"He won't listen to me, so you may as well show him, my dear," he said in response.

Grimacing at the paper, I took a seat in the chair next to the table, trying to ignore the way Thorin hovered behind me like a teacher with an overly troublesome student. The quill and ink pot were a foreign thing to work with, but my penmanship hardly mattered when I put it to the parchment and nothing showed up.

I demonstrated a few times what I had learned at Bag End; a small number of scribbles to confirm that I was actually putting ink on the quill, and writing to prove that it was futile. (Though if it had shown up, the words would have read, "This isn't going to work. See? Told you. NOT. WORKING. KTHNXBYE," and I'm not sure how well he'd have taken that.)

Gandalf joined us by the table sometime during this, watching me create absolutely zero words. "Fascinating, wouldn't you agree?" he commented, borderline cheeky.

When no reply came, I dared to peek up at Thorin. His face was unreadable as he studied the paper before me, one hand poised at his chin, while the other supported that elbow. I knew he saw the quill make contact with the paper. It wasn't a matter of me deceiving him, but of him believing what happened.

"You say this is the Valar's doing?" Thorin asked, eyes not leaving the parchment.

"Indeed," answered Gandalf in his light manner.

I looked back and forth between the two as they stood on either side of my chair, mild unease flaring at the lack of space.

"If they are the reason she cannot write… Are they responsible for her inability to speak as well?" questioned Thorin. He was sharp as a tack, that much was certain.

Gandalf remained quiet this time, allowing me to answer on my own. I nodded to Thorin, and really, I felt bad for the guy. Every question he asked just resulted in more questions, and that had to be annoying.

"To what end?" the Dwarf King inquired, turning to take a few slow steps away before facing us again. I rotated in my seat to watch him, grateful for the distance. "If Miss Hollander is truly from another world, why send her to aid in our quest? What would this achieve that we could not do for ourselves?"

"Any number of things, really," Gandalf replied nonchalantly. "Every person has their own unique way of contributing to their world, and perhaps they felt Miss Hollander has something specific to offer Middle Earth." Much safer answer than I could've come up with.

Thorin's intense gaze rested on me once more. (Always intense, there was no lower setting.) "Even so… Why silence her? What purpose does this serve? It is… too convenient, in my eyes."

I was quite offended by this insinuation, and I no longer felt bad about his confusion. Convenient? Convenient for who exactly? It certainly wasn't me. My peeved thoughts must have shown, despite trying to maintain some kind of poker face during this mess of a conversation.

"Well?" Thorin challenged, actually addressing me. "You were supposedly chosen for this quest, yet cannot say why. On your shoulder lies a map that has no business being there and you cannot explain how this came to be."

Gandalf wasn't the least bit worried. "I do not believe Miss Hollander has ill intentions towards yourself or this quest. Do you, my dear?" he asked me.

I craned my neck to frown at him, perplexed at such a stupid question. Of course not? If I did, I certainly wouldn't admit to it while sitting five feet from Thorin Oakenshield himself.

"There. See? Absolutely nothing to fret about," the wizard said.

Thorin stared at Gandalf with much the same face I had, stating, "None of my questions have yet to be answered."

Half a second later, I was suppressing a yawn with my hand – God, what time did we have to leave in the morning? – which earned a sharp look from the Dwarf King. Catching this, I set my hand back in my lap, fiddling with the drawstrings of my sweatpants as I hunkered down again. Ugh, could I not just yawn without it being an insult or was that simply how he interpreted the world?

"Patience is likely the only thing that will grant you answers in this circumstance, Thorin," Gandalf interceded with a hint of irritation. "Something which you are in sore need of."

Thorin eyed the wizard, and then looked over to my uneasy posture. I nibbled on the inside of my lip, waiting.

A tense moment passed before Thorin finally relented, tilting his chin in a sort of half nod while shifting his gaze to some unseen speck on the wall. Whether he was agreeing that he needed patience or just agreeing to pause the questions, I'm not sure, but I was thankful either way. It had been one long-ass day, my legs were sore from riding and running, and I was not a morning person. Not to mention we would be stuck on the road together for several months, which meant there would be plenty of time to ask questions, and the Dwarf knew that just as much as I did. Fan-flipping-tastic.

"We've an early start tomorrow and it is late," Thorin allowed. He didn't seem quite so cross, at least.

Gandalf made a sound of agreement, gathering up his staff. "Quite right," he said. As he began heading for the door, I grabbed my backpack and made to follow. Upon realizing this, he gave a chuckle and turned to me, saying, "Oh dear, no. My apologies for any misunderstanding, but you'll be staying here, as my room only has one bed, and the others have already made their decisions. Goodnight, Miss Hollander."

Then the wizard left, shutting the door behind him.

I blinked at it for an excessive amount of time.

Mithrandir say what now?


;D

I'm such a tease.

I always enjoy hearing your thoughts - Was this chapter what you expected? What did you enjoy most? What did you like least? Thoughts on Jean and Gavin? I want to hear from you guys!

Thank you once more, and as per usual... Until next time! :D