I awoke on a cloud. Or so it seemed as I smoothly soared through the air on something soft. I opened my eyes a crack and saw a giant eagle flying just nearby. I then rubbed my hand over the smooth feathers I was lying upon, coming to the realization that I was on an eagle myself. I thought I must be dreaming and let my eyes drift close again. Then I began to feel it, a trickling of pain in my shoulder. I scrunched up my face and kept my eyes firmly shut, trying to ignore the new sensation, but it went from a trickle to a steady stream and then to a relentless heavy torrent of unpleasantness. I began to feel other pains as well. In my hands, on my other arm, even my nose felt terrible, along with a sickening throbbing in my head. When the eagle landed I felt I could barely move, but forced myself to slide off its back. I stumbled as I landed on the surface of the rock, falling to my knees and adding another sharp pain to the growing list.
I took a few deep breaths, not wanting to black out again. I'd never before lost consciousness and now I had done so three times in one night. I could not even muster the energy to be excited when the others began to land, though when an eagle gently placed Thorin down and he did not immediately get up, I felt a knot of worry start to grow. Gandalf ran to him as soon as his feet hit the ground.
My vision was then blocked as Bofur rushed over, throwing himself to his knees in front of me. He tilted up my chin, looking over my face with dark worried eyes and when I met them with my own I felt a lump form in my throat and I struggled not to cry. His hand slid from under my chin to lightly rest on my cheek. I closed my eyes, wanting to lean into his touch, but the side of my face felt tender and I vaguely remembered the heavy strike Azog had dealt me when I had first encountered the warg pack.
"I'm sorry." I heard Bofur say in a low voice and felt him drop his hand. "I tried to get to you... we all did..." I looked at him and he was shaking his head, his forehead creased in a deep frown. "Are you alright?" he asked finally, his face strained with concern.
I opened my mouth and attempted to speak but then buckled over in a cough, aftermath of the smoke I'd inhaled. The motion tormented my shoulder. Finally I was able to sit back up but frustrated tears were streaming down my face.
"I don't know." I managed to hoarsely whisper. I then bit my lip and shook my head slightly, feeling all the pain and emotion bubble to the surface. My eyes blurred as they filled with more tears. I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against the front of Bofur's shoulder, trying to suppress the sobs that wanted to escape. He carefully wrapped an arm around my back and whispered a few words of comfort in my ear.
"Your shoulder... it needs tending." Bofur stated grimly after I calmed down a bit.
I sighed and sat up. I was terrified to know the extent of the injury to my shoulder. I worried I might never be able to use my arm again. Or it could get infected. I had heard of men dying from less substantial wounds. I felt the cold fear threaten to cripple me in mind as well as body. I looked to Bofur, and he must have seen the panic behind my eyes as he relaxed his expression and took hold of my hand.
"You're going to be fine." he said confidently, finding my hand and giving it small, reassuring squeeze. "I promise."
I then caught movement behind Bofur and looked over him to see Thorin approach, wincing slightly as he walked. I quickly wiped my face as the others parted to let him through.
"I thought you were dead." Thorin said gruffly, stopping beside us and looking down at me sharply. My happiness for his revival dimmed slightly at his less than welcoming remark.
"I thought you were as well." I replied as hotly as I could. He stared at me and then his mouth quirked up into a very slight smirk.
"Perhaps you will reach Laketown after all, barmaid."
The reference to my past would normally have left me rattled, but I swore for a brief moment that Thorin's smirk softened. While it may have been my addled brain playing tricks, it still left me feeling like it was more of a compliment. I would have liked to dwell in the moment of praise, but my aches and pains forced me to close my eyes and take another series of steadying breaths.
"She needs medical attention." Bofur implored, standing up quickly and earning a glare from the company leader.
"She will have to wait, just like the rest of us. We need to move on while the light is with us." Thorin said firmly.
Despite being awake for two nights straight, and most of us sporting injures of varying degrees, Thorin ordered us to continue. And though the top of the 'Carrock,' as Gandalf had called it, would not have been a very comfortable area to sleep, with its rocky surface and exposure to the elements, I was about ready to lie down anywhere. I desperately wished Thorin would have allowed us to make camp for a few hours to recover. My shoulder hurt in the most excruciating manner and the rest of my body was beginning to stiffen up from the abuse it had taken throughout the course of the night.
Bofur helped pull me to my feet, letting me rest some of my weight on him as he guided my good arm around his shoulders. We carefully began to pick our way down the carven stairs of the eyot, my body protested every step, and a sheen of cold sweat broke out across my skin from the exertion of it. I felt sick, my world spinning precariously every few minutes causing me to grip harder onto Bofur with the remaining strength I had. I did not wish to slow the company down and so strove to continue putting one foot in front of the other even though it began to feel as if I were in a fog. I felt my ankle buckle but with Bofur's support I kept my balance. My headache continued to throb and I began to hear a ringing in my ears, yet I was so tired it didn't matter. I just wanted to sleep. I don't remember stopping but suddenly found myself looking into the eyes of Óin. He reached out and held up each of my eyelids for a moment, and I frowned, trying to back away, confused by his invasive actions. It seemed like far in the distance I heard Bofur's voice, yet he was still beside me I thought. I turned my head to see that he was indeed at my side but he was looking at Óin. I forced myself to concentrate and his words became clearer and louder.
"She can't go on like this. It's all I can do to keep her upright." he said.
I heard Óin speak next, and lazily turned my gaze back to him.
"Aye, she should not be moving at all, she has a concussion, though how severe I cannot say."
I tried to speak up to tell them I was fine to continue, yet my speech came out quiet and indistinct. In the next moment a wave of nausea overtook me and I tried to turn away, yet the movement caused my field of vision to grow dim as I began to slip in unconsciousness. I heard Bofur say something in alarm though couldn't process what it was, yet I then felt my body being shifted against my will, and suddenly my legs came out from under me as I was lifted off the ground. I cried out in agony as the motion jostled my shoulder and then thankfully my pain slipped away as I fell into the blackness.
I drifted in and out of awareness as I was carried the remainder of the way to the bottom of the Carrock. I remember glancing up and seeing the silhouette of Bofur's hat above me. In another moment I remember opening my eyes to find myself in the arms of Dwalin, though confused I was too weary to question it and allowed myself to drift off once again.
It must have taken near the rest of the day to reach the base of the Carrock as, when I felt myself being set down, I opened my bleary eyes to see the dim light of the overcast sun was low in the sky. As I became more aware I realized I was sitting on the ground, my back leaning against a large, smooth rock. Bofur quickly returned to me and helped me drink a few gulps of cold water. Some of the dwarves were making camp as best they could without the bulk of their supplies. The area was relatively level, and also quite protected as we would be sheltered on one side by the steep wall of the Carrock. The far side of the island rose up into steep cliffs, and being situated much closer to the river's opposite shore it forced the water into a channel, swift and deep. On our side, however, the water meandered through a much wider course, slow and shallow enough to be forded by stepping from boulder to boulder - pieces of the Carrock which had detached in ages long ago and diverted half the river on its newer, less restricted route.
I tried to take a few deep breaths but found it difficult as the pain in my body made me tense at the slightest motion.
"Ah, lass." Bofur said softly. I met his worried eyes and tried to think of something reassuring to say, yet I daren't trust my own voice.
"You'll be needing stitches." Bofur continued. "Óin is just checking on Thorin and then he'll be right over."
I nodded carefully. "Are you hurt?" I managed to whisper to Bofur, my throat raw from the smoke I'd inhaled, he gently took my hand.
"Don't worry about me lass, I'm fine... A tad sore." he added with a sad smile. "But I've nothing to complain about."
I tried to grin but doubted my face arranged itself as such in the state I was in. I needed sleep, and food and water. My body was beginning to shut down, but I knew my injury was the priority so I tried to sit up and got Bofur to help me peel off my cloak and outer coat. I noticed the front of my tunic near my shoulder was torn and stained dark from the wound. I sucked in my breath and tenderly touched the edge of the skin. Pain. I did not cry out but felt a knot of panic settle in my stomach. At that point Bofur got up and left me for a moment to try and hurry Óin along. I tried to relax for a few moments until I saw Óin amble towards me.
"Come, let's move you over there so I might get a good look at you." he instructed before he helped ease me to my feet. I fought through another wave of dizziness, and was grateful to settle back down onto a low rock nearer to the fire.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to show me a little better, lass." he said after briefly looking at my shoulder. I stared at him dumbly for a moment, while he seemed somewhat uncomfortable, then I finally understood.
"Right." I muttered, slightly embarrassed as I grabbed the hem of my tunic. He turned away as I struggled to pull it over my head with one arm. I gasped in pain as I attempted to free myself, causing the older dwarf to turn back to help me guide it over my neck. I still had a sleeveless white shift underneath, but it was not a garment typically displayed in public. Without any preamble, the older dwarf began his examination, leaning in close to the puncture wound in the front. He tutted disapprovingly.
"I need hot water, cloth, and some mead!" he shouted towards the group at no one in particular. He then moved behind me to look over the wounds on the back of my shoulder. I felt him push, prod and tug at the site of the impalement, and I held back a cry as he did so.
"It was lucky he didn't rip into the major arteries." Óin explained. "You'd have bled out by now if he did. Now, lassie, if you don't mind, let me listen to you breathe to make sure your lung is still intact."
I sat up a bit straighter and tried to breath as normally as possible as the dwarf laid an ear against the middle of my chest. I wondered, with his state of deafness, whether he would be able to discern anything at all. He simply nodded as he withdrew and I assumed he heard nothing of concern - or perhaps just nothing at all due to his impaired hearing. He then lifted my tunic slightly and felt my abdomen.
"No internal bleeding." he announced. "Fortunate, indeed." He moved his inspection back up to my head, checking my eyes once more. He then lightly placed a hand under my chin and tilted my face up towards him. He studied my nose for a moment, and then ran his thumb down the length of it. It was tender to touch but I was able to tolerate his proddings.
"Not broken. Good." he muttered. He moved onto my hands, holding one up at a time and bringing my fingers close to his eyes, gently bending a few of them. He seemed satisfied by what he saw as he placed my hands back down.
"Anywhere else?" he asked, looking at me kindly. I thought for a moment then lifted my arm to reveal a few deep scratches from the orc I had danced with before tossing him off the cliff. He moved to that side and looked at them critically, mumbling something in dwarvish under his breath as he untied a leather satchel he had on his belt. He then sat down and began to empty it. "I'm afraid, lass, those goblins snagged my main medicine bag." He looked at me pointedly. "That means you're going to have to do without the numbing agent." I nodded hesitantly. "Luckily they didn't get to this, my emergency store. Ah there it is." he held up a silver needle. "Just need to find that roll of sinew..."
At that moment Bofur approached, carrying a wooden bowl filled with some hot water and ripped up pieces of cloth. Óin made a noise of acknowledgement and began to first clean the arm bearing the scratches. As he did so Bofur rang out a piece of cloth as well and then dabbing my face with it, removed the evidence of my previous nosebleed. I felt puzzlingly self-conscious having two dwarves gently clean me up and avoided eye contact with Bofur at all costs. Óin then began working on the front of my shoulder, cleaning off the dried blood around the lesion while I tried not to grimace.
"Doin' alright?" Bofur asked when he was through wiping my face.
"It's not that bad." I lied after sneaking a glance at him and noting the concern etched over his face. I tried to sound cheery, but it had to be at that moment when Óin began to wipe the wounds on my back, and I knew my face contorted a bit despite my best efforts.
"No no, don't be frightened missy." Óin said soothingly, and while I couldn't for the life of me understand why he thought I was afraid, as I was doing my best to hide even signs of pain, Bofur caught my eye and nodded pointedly towards Óin's crushed ear trumpet hanging from his belt. I flashed a quick smile to show I understood.
Óin paused when Gandalf walked up to us. The wizard looked down at me sadly, and then knelt to meet my eye.
"Not many would still be alive after a brush with Azog the Defiler." he remarked with a small smile. "You are a surprising young woman."
I tried my best to offer a genuine smile in return.
"May I examine your shoulder?" he then asked.
I nodded and Óin stepped aside as Gandalf moved in for a better look. He lifted his hand, extending his palm as if he was about to press it against the wound. I braced for pain, but it did not come. He held his hand barely above the flesh, so close that I could feel the soothing warmth coming off it. He closed his eyes, and I watched as his lips moved - just barely, but enough that I could tell something was said under his breath. I felt the warmth spread through my shoulder, not just around but in the wound. Gandalf stopped speaking, and the warmth receded as if it was never there.
"It seems the luck of these dwarves has rubbed off on you." he remarked somewhat happily. "If you do exactly as Óin tells you, your shoulder will mend. It may never be quite the same, but you should regain most use of it." He brushed his hands against each other and straightened up.
"Clean her wounds as best you can, and stitch her up." Gandalf instructed briskly. He then reached into his cloak and pulled out a frayed dull grey scarf. "For the sling." he added as he set it down nearby. He then left us to it.
"I'll need you to stay in case she needs to be held still." Óin said to Bofur, who looked at him in alarm. "She'll be doing this without the aid of my herbs." he explained, seeing his expression. "Did anyone have a skin of drink still on them?"
Bofur nodded and pulled out a flask from his coat and handed it to Óin.
"This may hurt a wee bit." Óin said as he unscrewed the top.
A strangled cry escaped my lips before I was able to stop myself when the strong liquid hit the wound. It was worse when he poured some over the impalement marks on my back. I covered my mouth with my other hand to keep myself quiet, but the extreme sting made my eyes water. Óin then stepped to my other arm and poured a liberal amount over the orc scratches as well. After a moment the pain subsided into an ache and I blinked out my eyes. Bofur grabbed back the flask and sat down beside me; he gave it a small shake before pressing it into my hand.
"Drink the rest." he told me, so I tentatively tipped it to my lips, letting a bit of the mead into my mouth. I wasn't expecting the dryness of it and I could only swallow a small amount.
"All of it," Bofur insisted, seeing me hesitate, "you'll need it." He nodded encouragingly as I took another few mouthfuls.
Óin then brandished his threaded needle indicating he was ready to start. Bofur took the flask back and set it aside, then surprised me by grabbing my free hand in a strong grip. He looked me in the eyes and nodded slightly; I took a deep breath and nodded back. Óin grabbed my shoulder in a vicelike grip and then after a long suspenseful pause, I felt the needle go through my skin. I tried to hold still, but it was sheer agony. Óin released his grip of me and then I felt a weird tugging at my skin as he tied the sinew. I felt nothing more for a moment before he steadied me once more, and then I felt the needle go through again. I tensed my body in an effort to stay seated and tried my best to keep breathing. After two more stitches in the front I felt weak all over.
Finally he moved to my back just as my vision began to blot, I squeezed my eyes shut. I'm not sure if I yelled out, but after another suture I inadvertently tugged away so hard I escaped Óin's grip. I wasn't aware of anything for a few seconds, just the pain. I eventually caught my breath and opened my eyes; my blurry sight began to register the curious faces of the other dwarves, staring in my direction from the campfire. I realized I was gripping Bofur so hard that when I loosened my fingers they left marks on his skin. I felt the tears on my face.
"I'm sorry." I said, my voice weak and unsteady.
"Don't be." Bofur said gently. "You're doing well."
"I'm nearly done, but we have to keep going." Óin said, not unkindly. Bofur then put one arm securely around my back to help hold me in place, though he gave me his other hand to grasp onto once more. I played with the knit purls of his glove as Óin cut and tied the previous suture. I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, pressing my lips together. I gripped Bofur's hand as the needle strung through both edges of my torn flesh a few times more. Once again I got dizzy and hot. I leaned heavily against Bofur, trying to keep my world still.
What seemed like an eternity later Óin leaned back and pronounced "Done." He washed off his hands and then opened a small tin containing some kind of ointment. He smeared some over his work, and gently took my other arm, forcing me to release the vice grip I had on Bofur's hand, in order to coat the scratches as well. He helped me back into my tunic and then took up Gandalf's old scarf and bound my injured shoulder in a sling that folded my arm tightly against my chest. He told me to keep it as immobile as possible for the next few days. I sat there, unmoving, not able to even muster the energy to thank him before he packed up and wandered back to the group.
Finally I was able to compose myself. Bofur moved to stand up and I looked at him rather sheepishly. "Sorry. And thank you for... everything." I stammered.
"Don't mention it." he replied lightly. "I've seen seasoned dwarves make a bigger fuss over stitches. You don't give yourself enough credit." He leaned down and surprised me by wiping away my tears with his thumb, his eyes holding mine as he did so. "You're stronger than you think." he added softly.
I smiled at his words, suspecting they were more comforting than truthful. Although I did not really want to confront the others after I most surely gave them a lot to listen to the past half hour, I moved to stand up as well. Bofur stepped forward to help steady me, then grabbed my jacket and cloak and placed them over my shoulders before taking my arm and leading me towards the group. I felt a bit light-headed, but with Bofur's guidance was able to make it to the fire. I didn't meet anyone's eye as I settled in, leaning my back against the giant rock face.
Dinner was a few grilled reeds pulled from the shoreline and very small chunk of jerky each. Bofur left to help Bombur pass it all out; I couldn't help but watch him as he moved around camp. His unwavering kindness astounded me and I realized I enjoyed his company on such a level that I looked forward to it, almost craved it. Plus his actions this evening, offering me that kind of comfort when I was in such a vulnerable and pathetic state was completely unexpected.
Kili startled me out of my thoughts as he sat down beside me, he picked at his fingernail a moment before looking at me.
"Not many saw what you did back there." he began quietly."But I did. You had my brother's back, when I should have." he looked uncharacteristically upset. "You risked your life for his. Thank you. For saving him."
I smiled tiredly, humbled by the young dwarf's words. "I don't think I saved him." I retorted softly. "I might have just helped him a bit."
Kili studied me, an expression of sympathy playing across his handsome features.
"I will tell my uncle of your deed." he exclaimed suddenly with vigour. "He's too hard on you. You've proven yourself. You are a part of this company as much as anyone else here, and you deserve that respect."
I laid a hand on his arm, shaking my head. "You don't have to do that." I chided softly.
He placed his hand over mine for a moment. "We'll see." was all he said as he got to his feet and left before I could say anything more.
It proved to be rather difficult preparing for sleep that night. Most of the gear had fallen to some unknown abyss in the goblin tunnels, and apparently the rest had been stripped off by the goblins themselves during their frantic searching. Many of us, including myself, had lost our overnight packs entirely. Anyone with more than one blanket remaining had to share, and even then we were very short. Luckily, since July was now upon us, the temperature seemed to be cooperating and it was a rather warm evening. Most of the dwarves were fine just sleeping as they were. I was given a rather threadbare wool blanket to use and Bofur offered me his coat as well, which, after a good deal of arguing, he let me refuse. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway as my shoulder was throbbing, but I lay down on my good side next to the fire for appearances sake and tried to relax.
After a few hours of extreme discomfort and growing frustration I sat up angrily, roughly swiping away the unbidden tears from my eyes. I was exhausted, but it hurt to lay still, and it hurt to move about, and the ground was exceedingly hard, and trying to use one blanket both underneath and over top you was inconvenient at best. I also was still feeling periodically nauseous and my headache had only gotten worse. Óin had told me that inactivity and rest would help with the concussion, but the fact that actual rest seemed impossible to come by in my current state just added to my aggravation. I looked around the camp, slightly annoyed that, besides Nori on watch, all the others appeared fast asleep while I was alone in my suffering. I leaned forward and prodded the fire, then moved to add more of the collected driftwood, shivering against the cool of the night. Tugging my blanket around me I tried to close my eyes once more, attempting to even my breathing, but after a few minutes my mind automatically began to focus entirely on the dull ache that ran down my back and over my neck and down the length of my arm. I moaned softly and shuffled about for a moment before bringing my knees up to my chin. I used my good arm as a prop and sunk my head down.
Then I heard one of the nearby dwarves sit up. I saw the outline of his hat in the shadows. Bofur. Of course, it was always Bofur. I silently cursed myself for being too loud because I thought he, at least, deserved rest; he had helped me too much already. He looked in my direction then got up when he saw me and came over. He sank down beside me.
"Can't sleep?" he asked in a much friendlier tone then I would be using if I had been woken in the middle of the night.
"Sorry if I woke you." I mumbled.
"Nah, I wasn't asleep yet... It's bothering you, isn't it?" he asked quietly.
"Distract me?" I pleaded. "Tell me what happened when you dropped from the cave."
He nodded and settled in. I leaned into him as he began speaking in hushed tones, describing the weird underworld of the goblins and telling me of their grotesque king, whom, though very full of himself, couldn't really hold a tune. He outlined their lucky escape thanks to Gandalf's intervention and of finding Bilbo at the end when they thought they'd lost him.
"I thought I'd lost you as well." Bofur added quietly when he was done his story.
I didn't speak but instead went very still, hoping he'd continue.
But he didn't.