I don't care if I've said it a hundred times – You guys are absolutely amazing~! Thank you all so much for the congratulations on my engagement, and thank you for being so understanding about my depression and junk. It's been hectic af, and I had all my wisdom teeth removed about two weeks ago (ughhh), but I'm feeling much better and I just HAD to get this one out here for you! :)
Enjoy!
The Loudest Silence
Chapter Twenty-Two
That woman was going to get herself killed.
Thorin didn't know what to make of her anymore. One minute, Miss Hollander would hardly leave the temporary room she was given by their host, clearly terrified of finishing this quest, and the next, she's deciding to risk her neck marching to Erebor with them after all. Honestly Thorin thought he had been doing the right thing, offering her an out. Now, though?
There was no further reason for her to continue, or so he believed. Dwalin had been right, at their midday meal, about her job being done. The Valar had obviously sent her to be a replacement for the map…
The map that she herself wound up burning accidentally? That didn't seem right to him, for some reason. Why would Miss Hollander be sent to fix something that she would be the cause of? Would the map have been damaged somehow, regardless?
The more Thorin ruminated on it, the less sense everything was making.
He thought he had been onto something, earlier in their journey, when he confirmed that she knew of Gandalf before arriving here. That she knew the Halfling would leave his handkerchief, and that required knowing Mister Baggins would catch up in the first place. All of this, coupled with what she knew of Dwarves, and their history, and their very quest, led Thorin to believe she was a Seer. Of course, she denied that very early on, despite what all the facts were pointing to.
After the kidnapping, however, he knew she could not have foresight. Or any of consequence, at least. Thorin wasn't an expert on magic, but he could not imagine her willingly going through that trauma if there was a way to avoid it. On top of this, surely she would not have allowed the Company to fall into the hands of Trolls had she known ahead of time? No. Thorin had seen the way Miss Hollander interacted with everyone – putting them in danger like that did not match up with what he knew of her. Which was very little, really, despite having been on the road with her for several weeks now.
He did not believe her to purposefully have ill intentions, at least, but she was plainly carrying a burden too large for her. The Valar had set her on a mission – that wasn't just the map, he now knew – and that was enough to irritate him to no end. What could possibly warrant this young woman risking her life again? Was their quest in that much jeopardy of failure? Were the members of the Company themselves in danger? If either of these were so, then how in all of Arda was the ever-anxious, untrained, naïve Jenna Hollander supposed to help them? Without some gift of sight?
There was something missing, something Thorin wasn't getting, and it was gnawing at his patience like a dog on a bone.
If Miss Hollander didn't notice it before, then she surely did now. After lunch, he had been harsher with her than he would've liked due to this dwindling tolerance of her secrets, but he stood by his answer to her very first question. Thorin was not angry with her, personally. He understood the necessity of secrets on occasion. Everyone had them – however, keeping these secrets when they concerned the quest for his homeland was less than thrilling. Especially with his family involved.
Thorin Oakenshield did not hand out his trust to just anyone. Did he want to trust Miss Hollander? Of course. He seemed to be one of the few in the Company who didn't thoroughly nowadays. She had given them no reason not to trust her so far, excepting that she refused to reveal the true explanation of why she was sent. Some of the acquaintanceship barriers between Miss Hollander and Thorin were being chipped away and, despite the situation, he found he did not mind. The young woman wasn't difficult to be around by any means.
She had been less nervous with him recently, warming up to him, perhaps, letting her interactions become more natural. Behaving closer to how she acted with the others, he was able to see some of why they enjoyed her company. Miss Hollander's expressiveness was almost comical at times, allowing insight to her thoughts with more accuracy than words could ever have accomplished. She was eager to help when she could, and was always ready with a smile; sometimes timid, depending on who it was aimed at, and sometimes not. The translucence of her soft personality was perhaps the saving grace in this matter, or he likely would still be back at square one, wading in suspicion up to his eyeballs.
Thorin had hoped her relaxation around him would lead to her opening up more, telling him why she was sent, and allowing him to comprehend why she felt the need to go on this quest. This was not the case, though, creating a mountain of frustration large enough to rival Erebor itself.
By the time evening rolled in and dinner was ready, Thorin found himself wondering if he should speak with her again in order to clear the air somewhat. As they settled at their tables, Miss Hollander stoutly avoided looking his way, with a posture that said something of her mood, solidifying the answer for him. Becoming impatient with her had the exact effect he thought it would.
This was… a step backwards.
Perhaps she simply did not understand his agitation was not pointedly at her alone. Some of it, yes, but not all, with a great deal of if landing upon the Valar. They could have chosen anyone – anyone at all – and yet they still decided upon this impractical woman. Not impractical because of her gender, as Dwarves did not yield the same thoughts on that matter as Men, but because of who she was as a person. This quest would certainly change anyone so untried, and Thorin did not know if this change in her case would merely become new decoration upon the tapestry of her character or if the entire thing would unravel a little more with each terrible experience. If she truly was set upon coming with them, he could only hope that she would be able to withstand any future trials, and sew herself back together as she had so managed this time.
Thorin did not pursue Miss Hollander after dinner, as most of the Company left the veranda, telling himself he would speak to her at a later point in the evening. Lord Elrond bid them a good night just a small time later and Gandalf brought up the topic of provisions. The confusion of Miss Hollander's mission was put to the side for a moment, a sort of relief flowing in when it was out of mind, able to focus on things that actually made sense.
Though they still had a few more days before departure, they needed to begin taking stock of what they may require, even if Thorin abhorred the thought of accepting yet more help from the Elves. Balin, too, was not the most joyful to be relying upon their hosts for more assistance, but felt the need to remind them of the trek that still awaited. With the ponies gone, a deadline situated, and Orcs hot on the Company's trail, this quest had become a race – one that they could not win if they weren't prepared. Even just vegetables and flint would be a help.
As the night wore on, their conversing drew to a close and Balin retired for the night as well, leaving Gandalf and Thorin. With the previous discussion over, the quiet terrace held no distraction, and the latter's thoughts slowly drifted back into the realm of bashful green eyes and broken Iglishmêk.
In a show of his uncanny timing, Gandalf puffed on his pipe once, and asked from his seat, "Have you spoken with Miss Hollander yet?"
Thorin frowned, unsure of how the wizard knew he was planning to soon.
An awkward moment of confusion passed before Gandalf elaborated, "About her own supplies? She still is coming with us, after all, correct? I don't believe those garments of hers will hold up much longer – the materials are much too flimsy for the kind of wear this quest entails."
Feeling a bit foolish, Thorin gave a nod, realizing the topic had never actually changed. "I have not conferred with her just yet, though she will indeed require different clothing. It's obvious her own were not made for long-term use."
"Merely a month and they've become so tattered… Very odd," Gandalf thought out loud. "I do wonder if all clothing of her world is similar, or if she was simply not prepared."
Thorin found himself mildly irritated again, and leaned back in his chair as he said gruffly, "If she was not prepared, the Valar should not have sent her."
Raising a brow and lowering his pipe, Gandalf questioned, "You do not believe the Valar chose correctly?"
"That is not what I said," Thorin replied with a firm air. "I've no qualms with Miss Hollander, but the Valar have made a mistake. She was not ready for whatever mission they've given her."
Gandalf seemed intrigued by this stance, understanding they were no longer only talking about actual supplies. "So you do not believe the Valar chose wrong… You simply believe they should have waited?"
"Perhaps," Thorin said shortly.
"And somehow, Miss Hollander would have found herself more prepared for a world of creatures that do not exist where she is from? Somehow, she would have been ready to lose her means of communication, and traverse through dangers unheard of in her homeland?"
Thorin was glaring at the wizard, wondering what angle this could possibly be leading to. It sounded like he wanted Thorin to say the Valar chose wrong. The King said skeptically, "I was under the impression you believed Miss Hollander to be the proper candidate. You doubt this now?"
A smile of the mischievous kind appeared as Gandalf replied, "That is not what I said."
"Then what is your point, wizard?" Thorin asked, unhappy that his words were being recycled.
Eventually, the small smile slid from Gandalf's face as he turned serious again, meeting Thorin's gaze with purpose. "Whether or not one is ready to take on a duty does not determine how they will fare. You of all people should know that well enough, Thorin."
A long second passed as Thorin narrowed his eyes. "That was entirely different."
"Even so, there were still those who said you yourself were not ready to take on such responsibility. The loss of Thrain and the disappearance of Thror was a great blow to your people, and yet the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains are thriving. Now how is that, do you imagine?" Gandalf asked, though he wasn't really after an answer.
Thorin still responded tersely as he glanced away, "You act as though I did not have help. There were others who were invaluable to me in that time and still are. Perhaps I was not ready, but I was not alone."
"And neither is Miss Hollander," finished Gandalf resolutely.
There was pause. Thorin slowly looked back over to the wizard, knowing – grudgingly – that this was true. While not a survivalist or a warrior, Miss Hollander had the determination, if the Iglishmêk and her rebound from the kidnapping were any indication, and she was certainly surrounded by those who could teach her the needed skills. Fili and Kili had already jumped aboard that particular boat, ahead of the game by some measure. Thorin was proud of them for offering to help the young woman learn to defend herself, and though he would need to sit in and see if they were teaching the techniques correctly, he knew this was headed in the right direction.
If the Valar had truly sent Miss Hollander to help them and she was unable to complete her given task… would their own mission fail? Thorin's main focus was the quest for Erebor and keeping his Company safe along the way, which resulted in doubts towards Miss Hollander and her motives. If those motives were indeed aligned with his own as she claimed, however , then would failure on her part be just as detrimental?
Gandalf seemed to sense that his words hit their mark, that smile cropping back up just the tiniest amount as he sighed, "I think I will retire for the evening now, if you don't mind. Goodnight."
Thorin broke from his thoughts to nod briefly in return, waiting for Gandalf to exit before standing and making his own way back from the dining terrace. It was a great deal later than he had intended, but perhaps Miss Hollander would still be awake.
Rivendell was already much too open and exposed in the daytime, and so the night air creeping in through the lattice-work of their hallways was uncomfortable to any Dwarf with sense. Thorin didn't quite understand the thought process of Elves and their architecture. What did they do in the winter? Did their furniture freeze over? When it rained heavily, did they just let it pour in without worry?
Baffling as it was, Thorin wasn't there to critique their poor building concepts. He pushed these thoughts aside to recall which hall lead to that guest room, finding it again easily enough. The door was open already though, and so Thorin thought perhaps he had the wrong one as he stood by the doorframe, but then noticed the familiar pack sitting at the foot of the bed. The bed itself was empty however, with messy sheets marking the departure of its occupant.
Thorin listened for a moment, knocking on the open door briefly for propriety's sake, unable to hear any indication of Miss Hollander's whereabouts. There was no response of any kind – no stirring, no shuffling, no footsteps. He cautiously entered the room, glancing around the side of the bed to be sure she hadn't just fallen off in her sleep. It seemed like something she would do, however there was no sign of Miss Hollander on the floor either.
With a small frown, Thorin turned, ready to leave the room and just speak to the woman tomorrow as they initially planned, but something out the window caught his eye. He took a few steps closer to investigate, noticing through the trees some distance away, there was a decorative yard. It was almost hidden, and he likely would not have spotted it in the low light had it not been for the vague white shape lying on one of the benches. Even from this far away, he knew it was not an Elf, and unless another of the Company had taken to wearing nightgowns, then there was very slim chance of it being anybody other than Miss Hollander.
Thorin left the room, heading in the direction he thought would lead to the secluded little garden. It was not a complicated route, honestly, with only two or three turns and a small staircase, but there seemed to be fewer sconces lit in this direction, lending to the stillness of the evening.
Reaching his destination and stepping out into the area, Thorin noted a torch on each side of the entryway was lit despite others in the area remaining dark. Though the flames were a decent size, their light didn't quite reach a third of the way into the yard, leaving the farthest half to depend on the bright moon above.
It was oddly quiet as Thorin made his way across the garden, save for the sound of his boots on the grass and the ever-present waterfalls in the distance. There was no breeze to rustle the greenery of the overhanging trees, there were no flutists feeling up to a bit of late music, and even the crickets seemed to have abandoned their posts for the moment. The silence was unsettling somehow, but Thorin continued onward.
His assumption of who he saw from the room was correct, as he recognized the form of one Miss Hollander, lying on her back on the farthest bench, hands resting loosely on the slight hill of her stomach. He could not tell for certain if she was asleep or merely stargazing until he slowed to a stop beside where she rested, the subtle noise earning no reaction, and he noticed that her eyelids were indeed closed. Of course.
Thorin sighed in resignation, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes had only worsened. Their talk would have to wait after all, it seemed, as he had no wish to wake her if she was finally sleeping soundly. As much as her secrets frustrated him, he could no longer see her as quite the threat he first imagined when he met her at Bag End. She had been an unknown factor, an outsider, and now she was simply… Jenna Hollander. Birâthûna to some, even.
It was curious that she would choose to sleep in such an uncomfortable place though, exposed to the night air, wearing a gown that barely passed for decent. While the dress's shape was flattering on her, the white cloth was a frail shield between her and the world, making him wonder if she was aware it was only for bedroom use. Maybe she had just been too tired to care.
Either way, Thorin knew if she stayed out here in the chill, she would likely get sick, and he couldn't have a sick Company member, correct? Even a slight illness on the road could lead to an easily avoidable death, he reasoned, or others could catch the same malady and slow the entire quest to a snail's pace. Even if Dwarven immune systems were hardier and the probability was small, knowing their luck, Mister Baggins would catch it himself and they'd lose their burglar to a ridiculous fever.
Thorin's options were limited though. Had he his coat on him, he would have thrown that over her and been done with it, so it was either wake her from an apparently decent sleep or just… carry her back to bed? While she was fuller in figure, he was not concerned that he would be able to lift her, only that it would wind up waking her regardless and lead to an awkward interaction he would rather avoid.
Pausing these thoughts as he watched Miss Hollander sleep on, Thorin wondered briefly why he was even considering this.
Perhaps he was over-thinking it altogether. Would she even approve of such help, after this afternoon? Waking her was just as likely to aggravate her as not, and carrying her required a certain amount of familiarity that he wasn't sure they had quite yet. Rubbing Miss Hollander's back while she cried was one thing, but carrying her so closely to his person, while she was in naught but a nightgown, was another entirely.
Besides, female or no, she was a member of the Company, and plenty old enough to know how to prevent sickness moreover. Would he bother thinking about these things at all if it was one of the others? Of course not. He had come to find her and speak with her if she was awake, and she was not, so that meant his work here was finished.
Deciding that this situation was not his to resolve, Thorin turned away with a short exhale through the nose, frowning. If it continued to bother his conscience into tomorrow, he would simply have a talk with her about bringing a blanket next time she insisted upon sleeping in odd places.
His mind made up, the Dwarf King began walking towards the entryway of the yard, not even making it halfway before something changed.
Thorin couldn't place it exactly, but the atmosphere itself shifted as the trees rustled, a gentle wind coming from nowhere. Had it been an average breeze, he would not have found himself slowing to a stop, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, his senses suddenly alert for seemingly no reason. Instinct was not the only thing at play here as he gradually turned back to where Miss Hollander lay, his eyes widening slightly.
Where previously there had been no one else, a tall Elven female now stood by the bench, on the side opposite of Thorin. She was clothed in a rather regal white gown, with locks falling as silky golden waves around her shoulders, and a silver circlet resting above her brow. The moonlight beaming down seemed to hit her in such a way that ignited an ethereal glow, both disconcerting and captivating at once.
There had been no sound of movement, no announcement of the arrival, and yet there she stood, gazing down with a soft expression aimed not at Thorin, but at the sleeping girl between them.
It took a moment for Thorin to gather his wits. Though surprised by her appearance and feeling something strange about the newcomer, he nonetheless began taking a few steps back to the bench, ready to question what this Elf thought she was doing, hovering over a member of his Company. Who was she? Where did she come from?
The Elf woman gave a slow blink. Ice blue eyes were suddenly on him when again they opened, though her face had not moved.
"No harm to her will come from me, Thorin Oakenshield."
Thorin halted some few feet away as her voice permeated his consciousness. It unsettled him, and it confirmed that this was no normal Elf. The aura that surrounded her was not simply moonlight, the air of the garden thick with magic.
"Who are you?" Thorin asked cautiously, eyes not leaving her for a second.
Finally, the lady tilted her face to him completely, expression not quite as soft, but still somehow amused. "She knows of me, even if you do not."
"That is not an answer," Thorin griped mildly. He had no patience for Elves in an ordinary circumstance, so this late at night, delving into more secrets involving Miss Hollander while she wasn't even awake, was irritating. With the way these immortals spoke in riddles to avoid truly answering questions, it was no wonder Gandalf got on with them so well.
The most miniscule of smiles graced the woman's lips as that thought passed. Thorin got the impression that her abilities went beyond simply projecting her own voice, and when she dipped her chin in a slight nod, the irritation returned. His thoughts were his own and she had no right to such invasion.
Thorin realized reluctantly that he would get no identification from her, moving on to say, "If you will not give me a name, then what is your business with Miss Hollander?" He was unable to keep himself from glancing down when the aforementioned girl began shifting in her sleep.
The lady's gaze travelled down as well, though slower and much more deliberate, as she said with a solemn, slightly distracted tone, "She called to me. Though I heard her desperation, I could not come to her. I am only here to see with my own eyes the choice of the Valar."
Miss Hollander called for this Elf? He would have wondered how, if it weren't for this woman's obvious magic ability. If she could read his own mind, there would be no reason as to why she couldn't read Miss Hollander's… But why? How in all of Arda could they possibly know each other? Though he was aware now that his mind was an open book for this stranger, Thorin could not stop the questions that flowed freely inside. He should not have had to in the first place, honestly, as they were meant to be private.
"You are an acquaintance of hers, then?" he asked with no little amount of skepticism.
The Elf did not seem perturbed in the least, merely meeting his eyes once more as she answered, "While we have never met, she is indeed familiar with me. In turn, I with her, though the circumstance is… unusual."
As if Thorin didn't know that well enough.
However, the words reminded him. When he was informed of what Gandalf had said at the Hobbit's doorstep, Miss Hollander didn't need an introduction to the wizard then either. Was this visitor another piece to the same puzzle? They also knew each other and yet didn't know each other?
"You say she called to you," Thorin stated, not entirely convinced that this Elf wasn't up to something. "When? For what purpose?"
Like he should have already somehow known, she answered portentously, "As any would in times of despair, she wished to return home, and escape our land. I am sure you cannot fault her for this."
Thorin recalled their first night in Rivendell, when Miss Hollander broke down so thoroughly in front of him, and her days of despondent seclusion that followed. Yes… He could certainly see how Miss Hollander had found herself in such misery as to beg for an Elven witch's help to flee Middle Earth, to give up on the quest and abandon the Company she had supposedly befriended. Prior to learning her task was not finished, he would have thought this to be the wise decision for all parties involved. For some reason though, now, a smidgen of disappointment wedged its way into the back of Thorin's thoughts, but his curiosity pressed forward.
The map was only part of Miss Hollander's mission, so of course, if this mission involved helping reclaim the Lonely Mountain and the Valar thought her presence necessary, she needed to stay. Regardless, he was interested as to why, if she pleaded for aid from the Elf witch, was it not heeded?
"Why not answer? Why not send her back if that is what she wished?" Thorin said a little more sternly, feeling conflicted. It certainly seemed to be within this woman's power to help a young girl in distress.
The immortal read the annoyance and defensiveness in Thorin, her tone becoming less forgiving at the pedestrian judgment of her inaction.
"I knew she did not truly need me. This girl will find the strength to do what must be done, without my interference," was the cryptic response gained. Those ancient blue eyes pinned him again as she asked, an ominous note in her voice, "Can the same be said of you, Thorin – son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain?"
Scowling, Thorin felt offended at this doubt. He shot back without hesitance, saying, "Make no mistake; Erebor will be reclaimed, and Smaug will meet his end. Whether or not your kind believe this task possible means little to me."
Somehow, from the way her chin dipped and her eyes softened, like he was a child making a silly statement, he knew she wasn't just referring to the mission to recover the Lonely Mountain. There was a brief, aggravating feeling of naivety that he hadn't experienced in years and was it more than unwelcome.
Miss Hollander had been relatively inactive on the bench, only readjusting minutely in her sleep throughout the conversation. Now though, Thorin's attention was drawn down to the girl by her restlessness and the way her brow was creased in distress, breath quickening. Initially, he thought that maybe his voice was disturbing her slumber, but realized that was not the case. It was easy enough to identify what was really happening, the cause of her many sleepless nights. He wondered if he should wake her, though remembered the other individual, and glanced back up.
Thorin met the stare of the witch.
Neither moved, but there was an odd sensation at the fore of his mind. The air turned uncomfortable and chill as he tensed, and…
Suddenly the whistle was sounding off through the trees, panic rising… A vision of snarling fangs so close, so close this creature's breath wafts over him. The growl of that beast rumbling like thunder, so deep that he can feel it in his chest… Is this what she…?
…the man is standing alongside glinting silver, hovering above, but distorted and wrong and red... It melts to orange, to yellow gold... There is alarm again until it is filtering through trees as a bright sun. Her hand in his while she holds on for dear life, trembling… He thinks he knows this scene though, recognizes it, almost, if it weren't for…
…crunching of twigs turns to crunching snow and he is running, the surrounding forest seeming to collide with the chaos of wintery ruins, familiar yet different. The drum of his heart is too loud – he does not understand where this fear is coming from, but experiences it as clearly as if it were his own. There is something… something is missing in the commotion… How does he know this place? Where –
… the thunder is back, but it is not growling. It is not teeth and fur, it is devastation – cracking earth becomes fractured ice and all tilts into a blanket of nothingness – She's crying… She's crying as shadows pass. What is she doing? He cannot let her… Let her what? The image wavers, fades… no, wait – !
Then, all at once, he was back in the garden.
Breaking eye contact to blink a few times at the ground in bewilderment, Thorin realized his breathing had become unsteady and worked to correct it with a shudder. All was still silent, save for the shifting of Miss Hollander and the racing of his own heart.
What was that? What kind of trick did the Elf think she was pulling? Had that been Miss Hollander's foul dream, perhaps? Or some other vision?
The witch was fully aware of the questions bounding around Thorin's skull, the look she followed up with explaining that she had no intention of answering them. The only response garnered was vague, as she said, using her real voice for the first time that evening, "While a nightmare distorts truth, the truth will lead us to the same course should we allow it."
"And what does that mean, exactly? What truth does Miss Hollander carry?" Thorin asked, working to collect himself again, though less patient. Had that indeed been the girl's nightmare, then?
The time for customary answers was done, however, as she continued.
"Not all warriors fight against blade and shield," the woman said softly, turning her attention downward. In a slow, elegant motion, she leaned down to the distressed Miss Hollander, extending a slender hand to brush the shortly cropped hair aside. "But this does not exempt them from such trials."
Thorin was apprehensive as he waited, wanting to intervene on behalf of the girl's personal space, but feeling a nudge in his mind again. Even though he understood it was simply another reassurance that there were no ill intentions, it was annoying all the same.
The air grew heavy with the weight of the supernatural. Once more, Thorin could not explain what exactly was different, except that the atmosphere was energetic while also retaining an unearthly stillness. The witch bowed gracefully further, brushing her lips across the forehead of Miss Hollander, and the sleeping girl ceased her fidgeting, gradually relaxing under the influence of whatever magic this was. To his surprise, Thorin caught sight of the cut just below the map tattoo, on Miss Hollander's arm, shrinking into an almost invisible scar. The purple bruise along her cheek disappeared as well, fading to nothing as though it had never been there. Once the injuries and the nightmare were banished, the immortal ceased contact, and the air became breathable once more.
Not that the girl wouldn't be grateful for this assistance, but Thorin was still uncomfortable from all that had happened so far. "I thought she did not need your help?" he commented.
Instead of irritated by the statement, the Elf only appeared mischievous, of all things, as she smoothly straightened again to her full height. "That does not mean I cannot give it."
"Of course," said Thorin cynically. "One thing is said and another is done, as is the way of Elves."
"You would rather I revoke my gift?" she asked, in a calm but serious manner.
He glared, barely keeping back any smart remarks, looking to where Miss Hollander was sleeping quite peacefully. There appeared to be a bit of a smile on her lips as well, and after he had paid the immaculate Elf so much attention, she looked painfully simple and flawed in comparison. And very, very vulnerable.
Thorin's only response was a tensing of the jaw as he shifted his vision towards one of the statues in the garden and took a deep breath, reminding himself that it was not just his own wellbeing he would risk by jumping to any bait. No matter the race, witches were not to be trifled with.
There was a long, silent moment before the leaves above rustled again.
"Then it seems you will do well."
He turned his attention back to the Elf, severely tired of the ambiguity, only to find she was gone. Just as smoothly and quietly as she had appeared, there was no trace of her exit. The trees eventually stilled, the crickets began chirping, and the garden returned to its average serenity.
It was about then that Thorin came to a decision, not willing to leave Miss Hollander out on the bench lest Yavanna herself drop down to give greetings next. He didn't think he was ready to handle that just yet.
As he approached, the girl was sleeping more soundly than she had been before, eliminating the prior fear of rousing her with mild jostling. He didn't know if she was simply more relaxed or if the enchantment also put her further under, but either way, she did not wake when he carefully slid one arm beneath her shoulders and the other just below her knees. There was a second of awkward readjusting while Thorin made sure her head was supported on his shoulder and not lolling off uncomfortably, before he was able to lift her.
Had she been but a hair taller or heavier, Thorin realized with discontent that he likely would not have been able to do this at all. Thankfully, Men were not built with the same compact weight as Dwarves. While Miss Hollander was on the chubby side for her own race's standards, she was still much lighter than a dwarrowdam of her height would have been. Despite it being years since he'd had cause to lift his sister, who was shorter than the both of them, he was almost certain Dís weighed more. Not that he would ever voice that, of course.
Once Miss Hollander was secure, he began the steady trek back to her room, noticing with some amusement that she had further balled up against him in her sleep, eager for the warmth. He was right in his assumption that she would be cold. It wasn't as though her light nightgown did much and, of course, with that thought, he was suddenly very aware of her.
In his eagerness to escape the magic-saturated garden, Thorin had forgotten his earlier ponderings of whether or not this was strictly appropriate. Obviously, it was too late to change his mind, as he was already halfway back to her room, but hoped she would not take offense to his actions. Just liberally toting around the young woman in her sleepwear like he had the right to simply because she was one of his Company.
Thorin took great care to concentrate on his path and not the girl in his arms, though somehow forcing oneself not to think of something only makes one think of it more. It was an unfortunate conundrum that he didn't want to examine too closely, so he was glad when he rounded the final corner into the hallway down which her room was located.
He was a little less glad when, from the bathroom a few doors down, Mister Baggins stepped out and spotted him with a slight jump.
"Oh! Thorin, you're… oh," the Hobbit began, startled, then quieted his voice when he noticed the sleeping Miss Hollander. His eyes flicked to Thorin, then to her, then back again.
Thorin said nothing, and only gave a glare that warned against speaking.
Whether because he did not want to wake the girl or because he was just unwilling to stick his nose into the situation, Mister Baggins pursed his lips and ducked his head, putting his hands up in a tiny form of surrender as he walked the opposite direction.
Once the other was out of sight and that was over with, Thorin continued with a leftover scowl on his face into the guest quarters, the light of the two sconces and the moon creating an odd clash of hues in the room. He knew this was a bad idea before ever he acted upon it, and made straight for the side of the bed. Carefully, he lowered Miss Hollander down and eased his left arm out from beneath her legs, letting her head slide off his shoulder and onto the pillow.
When he went to take his other arm out from under her, though, he felt an uncomfortable twinge in his scalp, and realized that Miss Hollander had a slight grip on the ends of his hair. She must have grabbed it when she curled up and he simply did not notice, her fingers thoroughly tangled by now.
For Mahal's sake…
Needing both hands to deal with this, Thorin slowly finished pulling his other arm out, then set to work unclasping her dainty fingers from his locks, having to hover over the girl so as not to tug more hair. She only moved around the smallest bit, sighing deeply in her sleep as she readjusted her head, inadvertently bringing it closer to him. The proximity of the movement drew his eyes to her face, to make sure she had not woken.
Problem was, Thorin didn't actually look away immediately.
He'd not given it much thought prior to this evening, honestly, besides a passing wisp in the back of his mind when first they came to Rivendell, but Jenna was a fairly attractive woman. Though her short hair was off-putting for any Dwarf, and her lips a bit thin, this didn't take away from the overall picture. Instead, these complimented her round face and pointy little nose. Perhaps she wasn't traditionally striking in the same manner as say, the Elf witch, who was comprised of a cold sort of beauty, but more in a sweet, unassuming way.
When it was that he stopped scowling, Thorin wasn't certain, all of this running through his head in a matter of seconds. Aside from her tattoo and strange clothing, there had not been reason or time to dwell on Jenna's physical appearance. More important matters obviously took precedence over whether or not this strange girl was pleasing to the eye, and it startled him that he was even thinking about it at all, much less now, when he was in a situation that could easily be misconstrued.
Of course, in this short moment of distraction, Jenna pulled her hand from his grasp to curl up again, yanking out several hairs that had not yet been untangled. This was enough to snap Thorin back to his senses, quite painfully. He instantly stood up straight, and scolded himself for staring at the girl so, the stinging on his head serving as a chastisement.
Pulling the blankets over her quickly, Thorin left right then and there without another glance, any lingering thoughts tossed out of mind with just as much speed. As if Jenna was not already enough trouble without adding that distracting category to the pile.
It seemed that things just kept getting better and better.
Thorin continued down the hall, thinking on his interaction with the Elf witch instead. Certainly, all she had done was create more mysteries, but that vision was a new source of consternation. Part of him wanted to believe it was just a way of throwing him off, and it had just been a trick with no meaning. The other half thought it was something else. It could have just been a projection of Jenna's nightmare, like he first thought, as it made sense in that context… for the most part, anyway. There were some bits that simply didn't click together, however.
The images were still fresh in his mind. The Warg that had been standing over Jenna when they found her, the Man from Bree with his knife, and the moment when they had finally recovered her – the way she shook, and kept her grip on his hand, terrified. These all made sense, but there were subtle differences. The shade of the Warg had been off, for one, and the angle of the sun had been all wrong in the memory of her rescue. If this were a nightmare, the small distortions could be explained, but if it was not…
The rest of it is what bothered him the most. The snow, the ruins… The location was like a dream in itself that he could not place, yet somehow knew.
It hovered on the tip of his tongue in such a frustrating way, until finally, a different memory surfaced. Of times when Erebor was still a flourishing kingdom, and a much younger Thorin was shown one of the guard posts. He had to know these things, as a Prince, and he also had to know of their feathered allies who resided there. Intelligent and sometimes even able to speak, the ravens acted as messengers for the Dwarves.
Of course, it had been many years since anyone dare set foot there, as it lay beside the dragon-inhabited Lonely Mountain. It would be desolate, and in such disrepair as to certainly be considered ruins…
If the visualization was indeed a nightmare, then why would Jenna dream of Ravenhill? How even would she? The image, while aged and dilapidated, was undoubtedly the familiar guard post next to Erebor. Unless she had been there in person, the depiction could not be so accurate.
This left Thorin at a loss – either the vision was Jenna's, and she was somehow familiar with Ravenhill, or it was of unknown origin and the witch had been playing with him. It could have been a vision of events that had yet to come, even. Both options were not ideal, as the final image and emotions he felt from it were distressing, but at least the second would have more explanation. Messing with mortals on a mere whim was not beyond the realm of possibility for inconsistent creatures such as Elves, and showing him confusing visions of the future without context would be right up their ally.
The entire evening had just been one thing after another, and Thorin was glad to put all of it away for the time being as he reached the snoozing Company. He spotted Mister Baggins, who was getting situated to sleep, pause mid-adjustment of the bedroll when he walked into the area. Their eyes met briefly and awkwardly before Mister Baggins broke it off to lie down, and face away from the look of annoyance, not daring to say a word. Good.
Of course, if Thorin thought the surprises of that day were anything compared to the next, then he was mistaken.
The following morning rolled around, and with it came breakfast. There was no sign of Jenna at the table, earning a few concerned glances amongst the Dwarves when it was brought up, as they had thought she was certainly back on her feet.
"Likely just sleeping in is all," Bofur said, maintaining a hopeful stance on the girl's absence. "She'll be around, I'm sure."
This turned out to be the correct assumption. It was quite a while afterwards, almost noon in fact, when Jenna woke and sought Thorin out.
One of the smaller balconies housed a bench, shaded by the building, and Thorin had taken a seat there to reflect on a few things before he was to spar with Dwalin after lunch. Being set to leave in a few days, they needed to prepare more than just supplies. Growing complacent and out of form was the last thing they should be doing with the way things were.
It was then that Thorin heard the tell-tale footsteps of the girl's borrowed slippers on the stone floor, too light to be a Dwarf and too quick for it to be one of the unhurried Elves that lived here. Without even having to turn around to see, it was obvious when she spotted him through the archway, a soft slipping noise and one heavy stomp signifying the fact that she almost fell down in her effort to stop.
The steps closed in and she was suddenly standing right in front of him, short hair still spiked in odd places from sleep. Her eyes were slightly wide, and she hadn't even changed clothes, really, just wearing her hooded black coat on over her nightgown as some form of covering.
'What happened?' Jenna asked fretfully, then stilled her hand to show the wavy hairs that remained on her fingers from the previous night. Ah. She dusted them off to gesture to her cheek and arm in confusion, and continued, 'I was looking for you. Ran into Bilbo. He told that you carried me to bed?'
Of course.
Thorin scowled slightly at mention of the Hobbit, but tried to return his demeanor to a relatively agreeable one, remembering how well their last conversation went. "Yes, I did. You had thought it reasonable to sleep outdoors with no cover. If you are continuing this quest, catching ill would not be wise," he answered.
She paused and pursed her lips, giving a short nod. A sort of uncomfortable, half smile that didn't match the expression in her eyes formed, and she said hesitantly, 'Thank you.'
"You are welcome," Thorin said, a softer tone coming more naturally this time. "Though, should you insist upon doing it again, it would benefit us greatly for you to make use of a blanket."
Jenna caught on to his lighter attitude, relaxing her shoulders, and nodded once more before returning to her initial question. With another pat on the scar on her arm, and a poke at her newly healed cheek, she asked again, 'Do you know? Why it is… gone?'
Thorin looked at her for a second, trying to decide how to tell of such an odd encounter. Would it bother her? Would the idea of an Elf witch magically healing her wounds make her nervous or scared, even if she supposedly knew who they were? The unexplainable nature of magic even made him uneasy at times, so it would not be surprising.
Just to be safe, Thorin slid over on the bench slightly, making room for the young woman to sit. If anything, the gesture unsettled her more as she glanced back and forth between him and the spot. He just raised his brows and made a nearly imperceptible nod to the open space, and she finally took a seat, looking wary of what he had to say.
"It seems the peculiar is inescapable for you, Miss Hollander," he started. "While in that garden last night, an Elf appeared and claimed you knew of her – said you had called for her, even?"
Brows creased in an oddly unreadable expression, Jenna stared at him before slowly asking, 'Who? What did she look like?'
Thorin said just as carefully, so as to gauge her reaction, "No name was given, though I do not believe she is a resident of this place. Fair hair does not appear to be so common here, and from her manner of dress, she may have been a noble as well."
Jenna's breath caught slightly as she turned her gaze frontward, thoughts obviously running through her head at an alarming rate. 'White dress?'
"Yes, in fact," he responded, a little surprised.
Eventually, after a worrisome amount of time, she said, 'I think I know who it was.'
Well this was certainly an improvement over the blind unknown. "Who then?" Thorin asked.
'I think… Her name is Galadriel,' Jenna replied uncertainly, looking a bit forlorn as she faced him again. 'She heard me? When I called?'
"Aye, that is what she said," he answered, watching as the girl's saddened look evolved gradually into one of disappointment. This increased his confusion, and he asked, "How do you know this Elf witch?"
'Witch?' questioned Jenna, meeting his eyes with obvious puzzlement.
Thorin was not excited to run back over the memory of the voice pervading his mind. "I would not know how else to describe her after such a meeting," he grumbled. He glanced over to the girl, still waiting for the answer to his previous question, and she seemed to remember then what she had been asked.
'I have… heard of her. Stories,' Jenna responded unclearly – that was usually how she responded to most of his questions about her knowledge, regardless.
His scowl at mentioning the interaction with the witch must have tipped off Jenna to something, however, as she studied his expression. Her green eyes showed a variety of worries that he couldn't pinpoint.
'What did she do?' Jenna asked, a bit of a frown going.
"Healed your injuries as some sort of 'gift', as it was so put," he said, but was stopped from continuing by a slight flap of Jenna's hand and a shake of her head, like the curing was of no consequence.
'You do not look happy. What else did she do?' she asked, curiously enough.
"I don't know if it has escaped your notice, but I do not enjoy the company of Elves, much less when they invade the thoughts of others without permission," he answered gruffly. "Do these stories you've heard of her say she is capable of such?"
Jenna grimaced. 'She read your mind?'
Honestly, the witch had done more than that, but Thorin wasn't sure whether or not to mention the visions he had been given. If it was Jenna's nightmare, the incursion on the privacy of her fear would likely be unappreciated, though he would also be able to then ask about Ravenhill.
However, if it was a vision of something else – whether comprised of past, present, future, all of the above, or simply images conjured to stagger him – should he worry the girl needlessly? After all, her kidnappers were dead, and the possibility of another Warg attack, while very real, would only leave her frightened. Ravenhill was the only outlier, but why would Jenna ever have reason to traverse the ancient guard post?
"Unfortunately," was the only answer that Thorin decided would work.
Jenna waited for a moment, eventually realizing that's all she would get out of him on the matter. Even if she wasn't quite content, and could sense there was more, she did not push for the rest. Staring out at the surrounding scenery, she let her thoughts roam as her expression slowly returned to one of melancholy.
'Why did she not answer?' asked Jenna, her movements lacking enthusiasm.
Still feeling a little indignant of the attempted job abandonment, Thorin stated, "This Galadriel made mention you had wished to go back to your world. Just yesterday you said your mission was not at its end, correct?"
She shook her head again as he misinterpreted her meaning, and met his eyes with such a look of shame that he knew she sincerely regretted the call. Rephrasing, she said sadly, 'Do not get me wrong – I am glad I did not go home. I do want to help. But why did she not talk to me?'
He had no answer to give her, and the conversation lulled when she understood this. Though he wanted to, Thorin could not hold her desperate wish for home against her, as he was quite keenly familiar with the feeling. Still, he was not entirely sure how to approach this, for Jenna seemed genuinely upset that no attempt at contact was made by the other party, her gaze having lowered back to the floor in dejection.
In an attempt to reassure her, Thorin said, in the most grudging tone possible, "Rarely, if ever, do I find myself in agreeance with the logic of their kind, so it pains me greatly to recognize her decision as the right one."
Jenna whipped her head back up to stare at him.
"She said you did not need her, and this was true – you did not," he reasoned. "You were perfectly capable of landing on your feet again without the aid of some Elven witch."
The young woman beside him simply kept staring, like she did not expect support after he found out she tried to go home early. Again, while not fantastic, it was only natural given what she had been through. The look on Jenna's face reminded him of Gandalf's words the previous night, and so he continued before he could talk himself out of it, shifting his vision out over the balcony when her endless gaze did not dwindle.
"Whether or not you choose to believe it, there are others willing to assist," Thorin said. "Whatever mission given to you by the Valar, do not feel as though you must do it alone. If it involves this quest, then it is our burden as well, if not more so."
By that point, when there was no attempt at signing, he glanced over to see Jenna staring straight ahead like he had been. Her eyes were shining as though about to cry, but her expression did not seem saddened. Was this a step in the right direction?
Emboldened by the reaction he was garnering, Thorin kept going in the hopes that this blatant encouragement from him would open more doors than his suspicion.
"You insist upon carrying this responsibility – though Mahal knows what exactly it is – when this journey is not yours to make. You are neither Dwarf nor hired burglar," he said, putting dry emphasis on the Halfling's role, but returned his voice to a comforting note, "And while I cannot pretend to understand what you could possibly be here for, do not think the sentiment is unappreciated."
Jenna blinked over at him, still looking both a bit bewildered and yet strangely calm. Her face turned questioning at his final sentence, though, leading him to continue whether he meant to or not.
He lowered his voice somewhat and said, with an accidental tang of resentment, "Not many in this world would risk their lives for Dwarves, Miss Hollander."
The girl averted her gaze once more, staring outward at the surrounding trees as she thought on something with incredible focus. A long silence passed and Thorin wondered if, perhaps, this conversation had run its course, standing from the bench to let Jenna mull things over.
"If you're hungry, lunch should be along soon," he said as a parting statement, unsure of what to say in the midst of her inactivity. With that, he made for the archway of the balcony, halfway down the hall when he heard Jenna's footsteps following. He assumed she was simply heading the same direction and would split off to another hall when they passed, but the steps neared and there was a tug at his sleeve.
When Thorin turned around, Jenna would not meet his eyes. She was biting her lip with such force he thought it would draw blood and her fingers remained pinched onto the cloth of his tunic for a long while, like she had forgotten she was even holding on. Her entire posture radiated disturbing levels of anxiety as her grip on his sleeve dropped for her to sign.
'I have to tell you something.'
;)
Yeah, so most of the lore I know comes from the movies and from wiki. In the movies it says Thrain disappeared after the battle of Azanulbizar, and I know that clashes with the book somewhat, but I'm basing this on mostly movie-verse, so. Eh.
Also Galadriel fucking with Thorin is probably my favorite trope that I just couldn't stop myself from partaking in, so my apologies to everyone. XD I won't pretend to be an expert on Galadriel, but I figure if she can blast Sauron halfway across Middle Earth, then she can heal a few boo-boos.
Also also! I really don't mean to make all of these cliffhangers! I only realize it after I've written the chapter, and by that point it's too late. So forgive me if you can, and I'll try to give you guys a break on the next one. LoL
Anyway – the usual! Let me know what you guys thought! Were your theories on the healing correct? Did you enjoy Thorin and Jenna's interactions? I want to hear it all! Good and bad!
Either way, I love you guys! Stay safe, take care of yourselves, and I'll see you next time! :D
