The massive doors of Thranduil's kingdom began to swing close as we crossed the threshold into the elven realm. We were followed shortly by the stern male elf seemingly in charge of the others, who took a moment to ensure that we were the last to enter. As the doors shut, a strong draft of air must have been drawn inwards, brushing against my side and causing me to shiver, though there was no sign of it disturbing anyone else. The group halted just within, on a stone outcropping large enough to hold twice our number, but which was nowhere near the largest in the catacomb opening out before us. I stepped away from the group as far as my bonds would allow, slowly so as to not arouse suspicion. My bewilderment was noticed, however, and a few of our guards almost appeared to smirk at my awestruck expression. I was too enthralled to care, though in the corner of my eye I made sure to keep the dwarves in view.
"Wait 'til you see Erebor. I expect it'll put this shambled cave to shame, really." Bofur remarked to Ori, which earned him a sharp cuff on the back of the head that nearly knocked his hat off. He righted it and glared daggers at the culprit.
While we waited, the blonde male elf spoke with the red-haired female in their own language, eventually calling forward another female that had met us at the entrance. At one point all three of them turned to look my way while their conversation continued. It made me uncomfortable, reminding me of the late nights in the tavern when men, well into their cups, would stare uncouthly, all the while conspiring all matter of foul plans to get a rise out of me. I drew closer to the dwarves, back to the feeling of safety that comes with familiarity. Despite what they might have thought of me at that moment, their hatred of the elves trumped all else and they allowed me close, some even stepping in front of me and looking defiantly back at our captors' calculating stares.
Finally, a decision seemed to be made as the trio broke apart and moved towards us. Orders were barked and our group was pulled apart, causing the dwarves to struggle against their bonds. The female elves strode directly into our midst - directly towards me - and I began to panic. The red-haired captain took my arm. It was not an aggressive grip, just enough pressure to encourage me not to move as the other released my bonds. I was then guided away from the group, which caused a more frantic struggle from some of my companions. I spun my head around; looking wildly about for anything that could explain what was going on.
Thorin had also been pulled aside while the rest of the dwarves were being led from the platform down into the depths below by the male commander. Bofur shouted my name, struggling against both the elves and his brothers, who could see the futility of such actions. I closed my eyes and forced myself calm, not wanting anyone to get hurt on my account. When I opened my eyes, I smiled as brave as I could and boldly shouted the words "Maybe they're just offering us food!" After all, I was in a much better situation than any of them. My humour did little to calm them.
Seeing the struggle beginning to develop, my red-headed captor spoke a few hasty words to her companion before rushing to join the fray. Kili in particular was making quite a show of himself, straining against his restraints as much as they would allow. He continued right up until the female captain laid a hand on his arm, at which point he locked eyes with hers, pulled once for the sake of his pride, and then allowed himself to be escorted away. I lost sight of them shortly thereafter.
The other female continued to guide me, up some winding stairwells, across narrow stone bridges, through the ethereal labyrinth that was the realm. I tried to keep track, but my weariness made it difficult to remember the way. Finally we came to a carven door at the entrance to a small antechamber. She pulled it open and ushered me inside before pulling the door closed behind us.
I studied the room. The sound of distant rushing water was now nearer, though muffled by the smooth rock walls. Two massive tree roots loomed down from up above, and where they met the floor they curved in opposite directions and then back towards each other to overlap. From the ceiling the water came slowly trickling down the roots, until it pooled in their encirclement, and then just as slowly drained away again into the wall. Stone steps disappeared into the moving waters, giving me hope that I might soon be free from the spiders' vile webs.
"You may rest, and wash here." the elf woman instructed. "I will wait just beyond the door." Something about her tone made it sound like more of a threat than a harmless comment. Her meaning was clear; she would be guarding the door.
My eyes narrowed. "Where are the others?"
"I assure you they will not come to harm. They will be offered the same courtesies as yourself." She gestured towards the adjacent wall which was lined with wooden shelves housing a variety of items. "Help yourself to anything you need. Take your time."
Before I could object she turned on her heel and let herself out, closing the door with finality.
I scowled, wondering if the dwarves were being led somewhere to wash up themselves. The elves must really be offended by poor hygiene, as this was the second time I was basically forced into a bath mere moments after entering an elven domain. I studied the room, expectedly there were no other exits. Seeing no alternative, and not being too adverse to the idea of a quick wash (in the very least to perhaps speed along the process of being reunited with the others), I wandered to shelf to see what was being offered. I grabbed a towel, vials of shampoo and soap, a brush, and also noticed a few stacks of folded clothing. Setting down my pile, I rifled through the garments, hesitating when I found a pair of leggings. I looked down at my own trousers, lifting my foot slightly to see them better. They were terribly stained, so much so it was difficult to even determine what colour they were supposed to be anymore, plus both knees were quite threadbare, a small hole starting in one. I wrinkled my nose. Truly they were beyond filthy.
She did say to help myself to anything, I thought with a shrug as I tossed them over my shoulder and then proceeded to grab a new shift, long tunic and even a vest from the now very rumpled piles. I then picked up my towel and other items and dumped them by the side of the pool. I tossed aside my old clothing, hoping the elves would dispose of them rather than try to launder them and expect me to put them back on. I unwrapped the binding from my shoulder and was pleased to see the wound, the front one I could easily see at least, appeared rather healed despite the rigours I faced in Mirkwood. I then, regretfully, began to undo the intricate braiding in my hair.
The water was cooler than the Rivendell baths so I did not waste much time after scrubbing and washing my hair before I dried off and dressed. It felt lovely to put on new clothes, though simple in design and of neutral colours, they were woven finely and of much better quality than what I was used to. I laced up the fitted vest then donned my old travel coat and my gifted cloak from Elrond. Both were quite dirty and travel worn as well, but I dared not part with them when I had no replacements at hand. I also shrugged back on my boots, wishing I had a new pair as mine were now rather stiff and discoloured.
After brushing my hair and redoing it in a simple, messy braid secured once more with Kili's dwarven metal clasp, I stepped up to the door and knocked on it before pushing it open. My elven guard had been replaced by the red-haired warrior from the forest. Her eyes darted over me as I stepped from the room.
"You look much better. Like a human again, and less..." she gazed off, and seemed to think better of continuing.
"Like a Dwarf?" I asked coldly. She turned her head and smiled a small, rueful smile. Was that embarrassment I saw? Elves were usually better reserved than that. She said nothing more, but instead took my elbow to guide me with one hand while gesturing the way forward with the other. I watched her out of the corner of my eye for a few moments, and eventually felt an unbidden need to fill the silence as we walked.
"Can you tell me your name?" I began tentatively as we started along an entirely new path. I had given up trying to remember the route, it seemed impossible.
"Tauriel." she responded curtly. She already knew mine, however, and when I questioned her how she did, she told me she heard one of the dwarves shout it when I was led away.
"I do not understand," she continued as we began up a winding stairwell through an immense root system. "You are a human woman, clad in the garb of our kin," she briefly grabbed my cloak for emphasis, "yet we find you in the middle of the Greenwood amidst a company of thirteen dwarves?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but my words caught in my throat when I heard an echo of a shout break the placid silence of the vast elven underworld. I ceased my steps, causing Tauriel to stop as well. I recognized the voice.
"-SHOULD THE END OF ALL DAYS BE UPON US!"
Thorin's deep yelling permeated throughout the cavernous realm, though I could not determine the whereabouts of its source. There was no questioning his anger.
"YOU! WHO LACK ALL HONOUR!"
Tauriel pulled me back into motion. "Ignore that." she said distractedly, not meeting my eye.
I frowned. "Look," I began, trying to keep her walking slowly. "I appreciate the chance to freshen up, but can I please be brought back to my companions now?"
Tauriel shot me a sideways glance. "Of course," she said kindly. "Yet there is one more kindness I wish to offer you. You have been on the road for some time - if your previous condition was any judge of it." Our route ended before another doorway, this one much more ornate than the one before. As she opened it, tantalizing aromas wafted out, and my stomach overruled any desires to get back to the company before at least hearing Tauriel out. She went on to explain.
"The dwarves have been offered the same, but apparently they do not accept the courtesy of the woodland realm as graciously as you."
I stepped inside and stared longingly at a table lined with dozens of ornate dishes, both hot and cold, enough to feed myself and all the dwarves to our heart's content. Of particular note were the cooked meats that formed the centrepieces, indicating that the woodland elves did in fact hunt for substance unlike their kin in Rivendell. The room was empty, however, save for us, and I wondered why the dwarves would not have taken advantage of the chance for a decent meal - as food orientated as some of them were.
I looked back at Tauriel, unsure, but she smiled and gestured to a chair.
"I cannot remember when I've last eaten." I said wistfully as I threw caution to the wind and began piling an empty plate with a bit of everything within reach. Tauriel delicately sat down across from me and poured some water for both herself and I.
We sat in silence as I began to put as much food as I could into my mouth at once. After a few bites, though, while taking a break to chew, I caught sight of my host, who was sitting very still and looking off to one side of the table. I got the feeling she was trying hard not to look my way. My poor manners seemed to make her uncomfortable, and so I straightened up and exercised my willpower to slow myself down.
This gave me more time to examine the elaborate room, which seemed much more fit to entertaining royalty than guests. I wondered whose room this was. My wonder turned to the elf seated across from me, who was looking back at me now that I was no longer embarrassing myself.
"Thank you for the meal..." I began, and she smiled graciously.
"Think nothing of it. My Lord Thranduil wished no expense spared. We do not often get visitors, especially in such mixed and honourable company." She paused for a moment and then arched her eyebrow. "How is it that a human came to be held in such high esteem by Thorin, son of Thrain?"
I frowned, unable to comprehend why she thought I was worth even a footnote in the quest of Thorin Oakenshield. Sensing my confusion, she explained her intuition.
"Word has reached us of orcs hunting the western borders of the forest. They seek out a company of thirteen dwarves, a wizard, and a woman - a 'respected friend of Thorin Oakenshield and valued member of his company.'"
I almost choked on my next mouthful as I tried to disguise my snort of humour when I recalled the white lie I had told Azog and his pack to try and keep myself alive. I turned aside and covered my mouth, coughing as politely as I could. Tauriel handed me my water goblet, I nodded in thanks and composed myself quickly. After clearing my throat, I looked at her thoughtfully, wondering if I should continue to stretch the truth. Though I did not exactly trust her, I was worried she would see through any deceit, and so I decided to give her a more honest account.
"Friend is a bit of a strong word." I admitted with a small smile. "I am, in a sense, their companion... And I would say I am friends with many of them, for my part anyway. I have travelled with them for many leagues. I tried to use my affiliation to Thorin as a shield when we became separated and I was accosted by the orcs."
Tauriel's eyes widened a fraction, and then narrowed to the dangerous look I recognized from the forest.
"You escaped unscathed?" She asked, appraising me with scrutinizing judgement.
"No..." I raised my hand to rub my shoulder subconsciously. "I was wounded and left for dead while the orcs turned their attention to my companions." I smiled to myself. "I think it was a bit of a shock to them when I got back up and dragged one of the vermin off a cliff."
Tauriel frowned. "I have not heard of human maids being quite so-"
"Lucky?" I offered cheekily. Tauriel sighed and shook her head slightly, but a grin played around her mouth.
She fell into a thoughtful silence for a few minutes as I cleaned up my plate. When I was through I looked up at her questioningly, wondering if she would now bring me back to the others, but she made no move to get up.
"These dwarves, you are loyal to them?" she asked softly, gazing down at the table as she did so.
I did not answer straight away, causing her to look back up to me. "I am loyal to one, at any rate." I said with a slight unbidden smile. I looked away, somewhat embarrassed.
"The one that wears the hat?" she prompted, causing me to bite my lip. Elves were just much too perceptive. She looked at me in a peculiar fashion, but her expression was not snide, instead it seemed to hold a hint of curiosity.
"You said you were friends with some of the others?" she continued, ignoring my silence.
I nodded, glad she was moving the conversation along and I began to ramble. "I would like to think so anyway. Some have yet to express their fondness towards me, Thorin being one of them. But I'm sure I could count in Ori, the young one, and his kin, maybe even Óin, and Kili -"
"Kili." Tauriel said faintly, maybe more to herself. "The archer?" she then asked more strongly, raising her eyebrows at me.
"Yes, that's him." I clarified, remembering she had some direct contact with him in the forest. I looked at her critically. It was the way she had said his name, like a secret whisper...
We both jumped as the door swung open. Tauriel sprung to her feet in haste and I gaped as King Thranduil himself strode in. Though he did not introduce himself, his identity was irrefutable and he was splendorous to behold. He came to a stop at the head of the table and turned to face us, but did not sit. He placed his hands on the back of the chair and leaned forward slightly.
"So, this is the girl?" he asked resonantly, fixing me with a hard stare.
Tauriel bobbed her head. "Yes, my Lord."
Thranduil remained still, his gaze lingering on me. I could feel my composure waning, and eventually my eyes dropped away from him. He smirked at this, and for a moment my temper rose - as if he, an immortal king, should feel any pleasure at all in showing his dominance over a human woman. It was almost insulting.
His words flowed like syrup, sweet and slow, but I resisted their spell.
"I see Tauriel has not been remiss in showing you the generosities of my realm. After such a long journey from..." He looked at me again calculatingly and then continued, barely a ghost of a question in his voice when he guessed "Bree?"
My body language betrayed the answer, and so I nodded. He nodded as well, self-satisfied and smug, and then slowly began along the length of the table towards me.
"You may have heard that we are less cultured than Elrond's Ilk in his last homely house. Have you been offered wine?" He passed behind my chair and moved to the serving table against the wall behind me, pouring a glass and holding it out in offering. I shook my head, and he kept it for himself instead.
"Your companions are eager to get to their objective, but I felt you must be warned. There are darker things than orcs in this world, and Thorin is leading you, and your... friends," He added, glancing at Tauriel, who looked down at her hands, "...towards a force so powerful that even noble intentions and honourable bloodlines cannot prevail."
I watched him from the corner of my eye as he walked around along the opposite side of the table, coming to rest beside Tauriel.
"Thorin will not prevail if he seeks to challenge the dragon head on. I offered him my aid, but he refused. If he truly wishes to reclaim his home, he will need the help of those more… experienced."
I looked at him fully for the first time since he entered the room. "Why did Thorin refuse you?"
Thranduil's eyes narrowed and he stared down his nose at me. "Because he lacks simple wisdom. Thorin cannot see beyond his own greed. Dwarves have always been the same. They do not treat fairly with other races, but instead hoard their wealth, monopolizing all others."
He paused, sweeping his cloak to the side and continuing around the table back towards me.
"I offered Thorin the assistance he would require to reclaim Erebor. In exchange, he would return to me the heirlooms of my people. They had been promised to me when Thror still ruled under the mountain. The dwarves, however, for all their honour, are less keen to keep their word if it means parting with treasure, even something that is not rightfully theirs to keep."
I contemplated his words as he strode up beside me and fixed me with a calculated look.
"What is it you want from me?" I ventured after a moment.
"I want you to convince your misled dwarf leader to come to his senses. He must acquiesce to my terms if he ever wishes to set foot outside my kingdom again."
"So we are prisoners then?" I asked hotly, snapping my gaze to Tauriel and fixing her with a cold furious stare. It had all been a trap.
"You were trespassing in our realm." Thranduil explained calmly but in a patronizing manner, as if he were addressing a misbehaving child. "And trespassing is a crime."
"We were NOT trespassing." I said loudly, standing up from my seat in anger. "We lost our way; we had no intention of even coming here."
"Take her to the dungeons like the others." Thranduil ordered with a flick of his hand as he walked towards the door. "Humans break easier than dwarves. She will cooperate. Eventually." He paused in the doorway, and then turned to look back at me over his shoulder. "Tell Thorin Oakenshield he will never leave these halls until we reach an agreement."
He crossed the threshold and was gone, the door closing with resounding finality behind him. I barely heard Tauriel step up beside me but suddenly felt her grip on my arm as she tried to escort me out. I wrenched free of her grasp.
"I can walk on my own." I snapped. "Honestly, do you think I would try to run in this place?"
She looked at me with a rather shocked expression, causing me to lower my resentful glaring.
"Follow me." she said quietly.
I paid no heed to anything as I was guided to the lower levels, being too flustered after my encounter with the elven king to notice much of my surroundings.
"Do you want your own cell?" Tauriel muttered, slowing her pace as we approached the beginning of the prisoner keeps.
I shook my head, wondering why she would even give me a choice. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck in solitary confinement. We walked along a narrow path, up and down some series of steps, passing a few thick black iron doors along the way. I turned my head to see familiar faces peering out at me as I was led by, but I had no time to convey anything to them.
Finally she stopped in front of one door and grabbed out her set of keys to unlock it, she took my shoulder and pushed me gently inside when she had opened it, quickly closing and locking it again behind me. I looked up to see the confused faces of Bofur, Fili and Dori staring at me.
I turned quickly, grabbing the bars of the door and looking to Tauriel, wondering if she was trying to show me a kindness in her decision to place me in this cell in particular. She arched an eyebrow, smirking somewhat, and I grinned a small thank you. She nodded very slightly and then took her leave. I turned back to the dwarves.
"Where did they take you?" Fili asked, standing up and stepping towards me.
I was about to explain when I heard a harsh voice from the neighbouring cell. There was a small, barred window in the thick stone wall separating our holding and the one beside it, and Thorin was leaning his head against the metal divides in order look in at us.
"What did you tell them?" he demanded roughly, looking at me with suspicion I felt I didn't deserve.
"I told them you have a fondness for dressing in women's clothing and engaging in unnatural acts with livestock!" I snapped, tired of his accusatory and belittling attitude towards me. I heard Dori gasp at the audacity of such a statement. Bofur coughed inauspiciously while Fili just shuffled about nervously.
Rather than provoking a rise out of Thorin, it simply seemed to dishearten him. He let out a world-weary sigh and simply glared at me, as if to ask 'really?'
"I told him nothing." I admitted more calmly as I walked to the back of the cell. "They simply want me to try and convince you to strike a bargain so we can get out of here… something about an ancient heirloom?"
Thorin groaned and cursed under his breath. "Long has Thranduil lusted for the Jewels of Eryn Lasgalen." he muttered. "But he shall never set eyes upon them. Not while I still draw breath."
I sighed and shrugged then slowly slumped to the floor, ready to relax for a while. I felt I no longer much cared for the sensitive timeline of Thorin's quest and was quite content to just be out of the forest and somewhere safe, (and away from the spiders) where I could rest. I took off my cloak and bunched it up, then lay down and used it as a pillow. Within mere moments I was struggling to keep my eyes open. I sleepily glanced at my cell mates, Bofur had sat with his back to the wall near the door and Dori was leaning against the bars, looking quite forlorn. Fili was speaking with Thorin at the window. I yawned and decided that I would just rest my eyes for a bit...
I knew I would have been interested to hear the quiet conversation that occurred after I drifted off, but as it was, I was blissfully unaware...
Bofur watched as the girl's breathing deepened and knew she was decidedly fast asleep.
"Maybe they gave her a sleeping potion... or worse?" Dori piqued up ominously after noticing how quickly she had fallen into slumber.
"Don't be foolish." Balin scolded from the next cell as he sidled up to the window to peer in.
"I think she's just exhausted." Bofur offered, finding it hard to keep his eyes from her now that he knew she wasn't watching.
Balin nodded. "Humans generally require more sleep than the other races… Her body shuts down faster."
"It's a wonder she's been able to keep up. Humans all seem so fragile, I imagine even the hobbit is more robust." Fili added softly as he glanced towards her as well.
"Shame they live such short lives really... I imagine it would be unfulfilling." Dori added, shaking his head sympathetically before returning his gaze beyond the bars of their prison.
Bofur frowned to himself. "I don't think that's true." he retorted. "Aye, they don't live as long as we, but perhaps their lives are even more fulfilling because of it." he paused, trying to collect his thoughts before continuing. "She seems to feel… well, more. She excites faster. And upsets faster." he added the last with a small, knowing grin. He then truly looked at her, his eyes softening. "She sees wonder in things we are blind to..."
He stopped when he noticed the others staring at him, feeling slightly contrite. Balin nodded, and drew the attention his way as he offered his input.
"Aye, humans are often underestimated, but they have been known to do extraordinary things." he began, his voice taking on the more scholarly edge it was prone to do when he was explaining something. "They have a power within them as well, different from the likes of elves and dwarves. Don't forget that it was a human who cut down the common enemy of all our peoples. The world would surely be a darker place if not for the courage of men. Girion of Dale was a good Lord as well, and led his people for many long years before Smaug arrived. He stood his ground, and made a good show of it too - can't say we dwarves fared any better against the dragon. Aye, many humans would flee, but one in a hundred-thousand has proven worth more than entire armies. I recall one battle..." His voice droned on, echoing out into the halls of the woodland realm to mingle with distant sounds of revelry and mirth as the elves partook in a celebration up above.
Bofur glanced sidelong at the sleeping girl, no longer interested in Balin's history lesson. He reminisced over the moment they had first met her; alone in the woods with naught but a wee knife for protection. How odd it had been for her to stand up for herself - and rather fearlessly at that, instead of cowering before them or pleading for aid.
Now, Bofur didn't consider himself a very worldly dwarf, nor was he particularly well-read, but throughout the years he had encountered a fair few human women. They always seemed to be cut from the same cloth; mild-mannered, smooth-faced, often timid, cautiously curious as to anything that didn't quite fit into their regular everyday lives. For whatever reason, however, this lass intrigued him. Perhaps it was simply because she was travelling alone - something he didn't peg most human women (or even dwarven women) would normally do. Or perhaps it was due to the excitement and mystery that seemed to surround her - the road had been somewhat dull up until she joined with her would-be captor still in tow.
From early on she seemed drawn to him, though Bofur simply chalked that up to his winning charm - that, and the fact that the others could be a rather sour lot; intimidating at best, downright hostile at worst. He was oddly pleased, however, that she saw fit to befriend him, and as he got to know her she began to surprise him - over and over again.
When she had graced him with her trust and told him of her past, her somewhat contradictory nature suddenly came into sharper focus. Her decent, small-town upbringing had collided with some years spent at a tavern - and Bofur knew all too well the kind of scurrilous behaviour associated with such establishments. She was polite and kind, and though somewhat reserved, she seemed to actually enjoy witty banter, and sarcasm besides. He had earned some warning looks from his comrades when he began teasing her, something usually best reserved for only the most audacious dwarf women, but surprisingly she took it all in stride - though he couldn't quite deny that he also enjoyed the pretty blush that sometimes spread across her nose on his account. Yet she was as bold as she was delicate, and sometimes she would bestow upon them an innuendo or joke all her own that made even Bofur proud.
His anger at Thorin for ordering their leave of her at Rivendell was palpable. He had not felt such hostility towards one of his brothers in distant memory, yet he could do nothing to persuade Thorin otherwise and he would not disobey the command of his leader and comrade. Despite only knowing her for such a short time, leaving her behind had been difficult. He had felt bad for her situation, and perhaps was growing to care for her in a sense, but he rationalized that most of his discontent had come from breaking his promise. As a dwarf from a family of little means, his word was often all he had, and so had always striven to keep it. His reputation had grown among the mountain communities that he was a dwarf that could be relied upon. That alone was how he came to know and be trusted by the great Thorin Oakenshield, and was one of the reasons he was even on this quest to begin with. At any rate, he had pushed past his anger in leaving and found peace in the knowledge that her safety was assured in the hands of the elves.
That was the first time he had lost her.
Ah, but she was stubborn - near as stubborn as a dwarf - and rejoined the group on her own accord, thankfully in one piece. He couldn't quite say why he had been so keen to be in her company once more, but he tried to not dwell on it. It was nice to get to know her better on her return, yet as she grew closer to him, certain differences between them were thrown into stark relief. He knew she had to be young, knew full well the differences in aging between races, but he could not pretend it wasn't something of a shock to hear of her true age - so paltry it was compared to the years under his own belt. He also could not forget the utter dismay and astonishment that crossed her face when she found out his age in turn. In the grand scheme of things, however, he figured it wasn't important. He was in his rights to be friends with a human; it wasn't unheard of, and their difference in years could likely be set aside so that they might continue their journey together without further awkwardness.
Why then did an inexplicable panic nearly impair him when he found out that she had learnt of his late wife? Most of his friends knew of it - it was no secret after all - so why shouldn't she? If she were simply a friend, why did he feel a sudden onslaught of guilt when thoughts of this human girl began to overlap old memories? Why did he suddenly feel threatened by her?
His cold and dismissive attitude had been unwarranted, she had meant him no harm. He knew he should apologize, wanted to, and yet he had barely any time to sort through his muddled feelings and confusing thoughts before they had fallen into Goblin Town, stranding her alone on the mountainside.
That was the second time he had lost her.
His apprehension for their own situation paled in comparison to the cold fear he had felt for her then. He knew he had failed her, and brought out his anger and despair on the hoard of goblins they fought through.
He didn't expect to see her again - though if he did, he hoped it would be in Laketown… he hoped that she would miraculously complete her journey and arrive home safe and sound without them... It was a fool's hope.
He thought his eyes had deceived him when she appeared through the flames while they clung for their lives on the falling trees. Yet she was there, amidst the wargs and the orcs, and he felt just as hopeless as he had in the goblin tunnels - he had no chance of saving her.
He believed it was the third and final time he would lose her.
It wasn't fair that she had to die for them. The sheer desperation allowed him, and many others, to find the strength to reach solid ground, to fight. He realized he needed her, he needed her to be alive - and, against all odds, she was! His hope was arisen when she got up to fight with them. He knew he needed to get to her, to protect her, but there were always more in between them. He tried his best… but it was not good enough, it was never good enough. When he saw her begin to grapple with an orc he knew her time was limited, and so he ran. Ran to save her. But she managed to free herself, like the lucky human girl that she was.
And then it was as if the breath had been knocked out of him, even though he had suffered no physical blow. He watched as her footing gave way. She fell. And his heart fell with her.
He had lost her once more.
He dared to feel hope again when the eagles descended. Surely they would have helped her, just as they had helped the rest of them. That hope was rewarded when he found her waiting atop the Carrock. Her injuries were severe, and she almost succumbed to them, yet he knew he could not handle losing her again. Something was breaking within him each time he thought she was being torn from his life, and he spent four terrible days watching her battered body battle the infection from her wounds. He had never been very devout, but he prayed to Mahal to save her - wondering if his pleas would go unheard because she wasn't of dwarvenkind.
Perhaps his prayers had been heeded afterall, or else she was truly a friend of fortune, as, despite everything, she survived. Her fortitude was to be marvelled at, and marvel he did.
And when he looked at her, he felt... something. Something long forgotten… something he did not know was possible to feel again, especially towards a human.
But the way she had felt against him in that god-forsaken river, her warm body clinging softly to his chest amidst the icy waters, her soft eyes gazing at him, as if inviting him… and then watching her walk out of the Anduin, dripping wet and glistening in the sunlight as her small clingy shift revealed every curve of her slight form... her shy smile and tentative touch as she dried next to him on the grass. Durin's beard, how could any man resist? He lost his head and kissed her then. He was a man after all, and she a woman in the prime of her life - and she was beautiful. Not in dwarven standards perhaps, and maybe it was just from being on the road too long surrounded by naught but the lads, but Bofur came to appreciate settling his gaze on her delicate feminine features. In fact, he found her a lot more pleasing to the eye than he would have cared to admit, and wondered if the others thought the same - or if he had simply grown to find her beautiful (despite her very non-dwarven appearance) after beginning to know her. Traditions and rules be damned - he could not refrain himself from stealing a kiss when the opportunity to presented itself, just to see what it would be like...
When he came to his senses he worried he had just destroyed their friendship. Would she be afraid of him? Would she think he took advantage of her?
No - She surprised him once more by voicing her desire and granting him permission. But why would such a lovely young woman want to be with him at all - a working class dwarf of no name? Surely she would have no problem securing a man more suited when she arrived home. Perhaps she just wanted something quick, meaningless… humans were known to put little value on the act of coupling. But no, she didn't strike him as the type of woman who drew men into her bed for hollow acts of lust, especially not after how she described her hatred for working at the tavern and for the men that occupied it.
Nothing made any sense after that. He pushed her away, trying to uphold normality, trying to keep things right.
It was just wasn't possible, after all.
But how could he stay away from her? He could hardly even keep his eyes off her - and rejecting her tentative advances? Impossible.
After a very blissful night when he was finally able to wrap his arms around her, finally able to bunch his hands in her beautiful hair, pull her impossibly close and revel in the fact that she wanted the same, the illusion was harshly shattered. He was forced to confront what he had been trying to ignore.
The lads would not have begrudged him too much if he had just taken her for a quick romp in the bushes - perhaps they would judge him, aye, and it would be frowned upon no doubt, but lower class dwarves couldn't be bothered to follow the strict customs all the time. He had been to obvious in his care for her, however, and that was his mistake. Thorin knew full well that he didn't seek to simply use the girl to scratch an itch, so to speak, he knew there was something else between them, something that wasn't allowed, something that wasn't really even possible.
Bofur had no choice then but to shut her out completely. That was the worst of it. Seeing her confused and hurt as he rejected the apology she needn't even give. Nothing was her fault, she had no way of possibly knowing the full implications of it all, but he could not comfort her - he could not even look at her, lest he knew he would come undone.
He truly thought he had, once and for all, lost her to Beorn, and by his own urging at that.
Her words had cut him deeply... 'If I were a dwarf, would things be different?'
How he wished then to forsake all tradition.
Her race, her... humanity... it did not matter to him, not now, and it was not what was keeping them apart. He wished he could explain it to her, but could not find the courage. His past was the wedge that would forever separate them.
He knew things had to be a certain way. But still... Having to say good-bye to her somehow felt like driving a nail into his future. Could he simply leave her? Forget about her? He wasn't sure he could. He wasn't sure he wanted to. Even Bombur was at a loss for words when he finally voiced aloud his secret fears, but there was sage advice to be had, there was no right course of action.
When she refused to be parted from them once more he felt a small bubble of optimism grow in his chest. And now here they were. Against every likelihood they had both made it this far. He fought the desire to move beside her, to take up her hand, to stroke her hair, and bring to light his conflicted feelings - Thorin and tradition be damned.
But he mustn't.
Just being around her, keeping watch over her...
It had to be enough.