We had been fighting. And in between the fighting were even worse spans of ignoring each other so adamantly that those that did not know us might have suspected we had never met - and never cared to.
It began in earnest when I had actually attended a private meeting with the King, along with Balin and a few of the top generals. I was then set up to be instructed by a dwarf I had never met before, a soldier that seemed to know a lot about subterfuge. I spent a few long days with him as we poured over old maps of Dale and went over strategies that might prove lucrative in upending useful information. He taught me more of the Easterlings, and trained me in deceit. We also began the formation of a complete false identity for me to assume while in the city. I was nonplussed by the fact that I was going to be disguised as a young man. I tried to explain that I likely looked more 'boyish' to dwarves than I did to other humans, but my arguments did not prevail and I was set upon to memorize a slew of random facts about my alter ego in case I was questioned.
One argument stood at the forefront of my mind and I hadn't spoken to Bofur since. I had knocked on his door early one evening, hoping to find him in a good mood as I had heard from the King that they had wanted me in Dale within a fortnight.
Bofur let me in with a sad smile and we sat tersely on opposite chairs. Finally I cleared my throat and told him of the confirmed plans.
"It won't be forever." I hastened to explain as I saw him visibly tense. "If I can't find anything, or if it's too risky, I can just come back and someone else will take over... I just think I should at least try. Better to delve too deeply than never to delve at all." I remarked, repeating something Méra had said to me a few days passed.
"Why?" he asked quietly, and I looked at him, perplexed. "Why do you feel the need to do this?" he clarified, getting up and placing his hands on the mantle. He shook his head. "Why must you put yourself in danger? Who do you think you owe it to? Are you trying to impress someone?"
"No!" I retorted irately. "I just happen to be a good resource. I can go there and keep my eyes and ears open for anything peculiar without standing out."
"You are not a resource for this kingdom to exploit." Bofur replied, turning to look at me. His brow furrowed.
"I am a member of this kingdom, or at least I'm trying to be. You should be supportive of this." I added somewhat sadly.
"I cannot, I will not, agree to this." he said sternly, casting his steely gaze away from me.
I huffed and threw my hands in the air. "I don't need your permission." I stated bluntly as I rose from my seat as well and began pacing the room.
Bofur sighed loudly. "It's like you don't even consider me. Do I even cross your mind at all when you make these foolish decisions? Did you honestly expect me to be happy that you agreed to be some sort of vigilante without even talking to me first?"
His voice had risen while he was speaking and I could tell he was trying to keep himself from outright yelling. I stepped closer to him but did not touch him.
"Bofur, amralizu." I pleaded, using the khuzdul phrase for 'I love you' that I had begged Méra to teach me.
Bofur looked at me, wounded, and shook his head, yet then he placed a hand on my arm, squeezing it gently. "Amralizi ya." he replied quietly, peering into my eyes. "But I worry my time with you will feel short enough as it is. I can't have you go off and endanger your already brief life."
I bristled at his comment, quickly pulling away from him. He moaned and moved to follow, but I evaded his grasp.
"I didn't mean it like that." he said, sounding rather exasperated.
"Do you think it doesn't bother me? That you will just live on, barely changing, and I won't." I whirled around to look at him, to glare at him, as my anger began to flourish once more. "I think about it all the time! But then I thought, maybe, if I could use my pitifully short life to try and accomplish some good here, then maybe you'll have something to remember me by... maybe I won't be so easy to forget when I'm gone." I was shaking now and my eyes were beginning to gloss over.
Bofur slumped down on the chair, putting his hand to his forehead as if our argument was physically paining him.
"Please, just reconsider this." he said, his words now strangely devoid of emotion. "I'm tired of arguing with you."
"Well, I'm tired of you doubting me." I said as levelly as I could before I strode out of his quarters, slamming the door behind me as I went.
The day before I was set to leave, I found myself being summoned to the King's Bath and, after a moment of confusion, I realized that I was likely set to begin my transformation into my alternate identity - a refugee from the south, a farm lad named Aldin whose parents were killed by the orc rouges that had escaped the battle.
When I arrived I was surprised to see Méra and her friend, Kari, waiting for me and I wondered just how elaborate my disguise was going to be - remembering some of my discomfort from the last makeover they had subjected me to. The mood was more austere than before, however, and Méra showed me to a trunk of clothing they had acquired and would secretly arrange to have sent to Dale for me.
I riffled through the items, noting some patchy hooded cloaks and a few sets of trousers and baggy shirts.
"You're to bind your breasts, and wear a few layers under your clothing, to make you look a bit more muscular, you know." Méra explained, showing me a bulky sweater. "Now about your hair..."
I gritted my teeth as I looked upon my reflection some hours later. Kari had concocted an ointment from black walnut hulls and a special ink that, after being applied to my golden locks and left to sit for some time, stained it a dull, dark brown colour. It would have to be reapplied roughly every week; they already had a bag safely packed with a two-month's supply.
After my hair had dried, they had me put on some of the men's wear, and then Kari swept up and sloppily tied my dark hair back with a strip of leather.
"Now the final touch." Méra said, stepping forward holding a wide jar containing a black powder and brandishing a short-bristled brush. I realized it was crushed charcoal and shut my eyes as she dabbed it on my face.
I was surprised to see that, with my hood drawn, and with the black make-up that helped me to look generally ruddier and as if I might even have the shadow of stubble on my jaw, I could almost pass as a young man - or at least I didn't come across as a glaringly obvious woman at any rate. I posed myself into a manlier stance, I had been practicing some posturing and movement, and both Méra and Kari nodded.
"It's strange. You don't look like you." Méra remarked.
"I don't feel like me." I replied, stepping closer to the mirror, feeling nervous butterflies in my stomach.
Kari then bid us farewell, even wishing me a curt goodluck, before I changed back into my normal clothes. After washing my face Méra looked at me with an odd expression.
"You'll be fine, you know." she said quietly, handing me an aged rucksack containing my hair colour potions, charcoal powder and the clothes I should wear the following day. She also put a dark folded cloak into my arms, already caked with dried mud and torn in several spots.
"You'll want to look particularly travel worn going in." she reminded me.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
"And if you feel like you be wantin' to come back, just come. You're under no oath to stay longer than ye want to."
"I know." I managed to utter. She embraced me then and told me to take the secret short-cut that led from the King's quarters through to Balin's apartment since my departure from the mountain, and plans thereafter, was not public knowledge.
"And when you get back, we'll plan that weddin' of yours!" She exclaimed over-cheerily, now clearly straining to keep up her enthusiastic demeanour as she fussed with folding one of the bits of clothing and dropping it into the crate.
"I'll be fine." I stressed once more, though this time I felt like I was trying to convince myself of that very fact. As I made my way to the exit to the baths, I heard a sniffle, and stopped at the doorway to turn around only to be sent on my way by one final order from the princess.
"I've seen boulders move across flat ground faster than you! Go on, get to bed, or I'll have Ganin haul you out of here by you manly brown pigtail!"
I grinned and nodded and then made my way to my quarters.
I had just changed into my nightgown when I heard a small tap on my door. I wandered over and creaked it open in order to peek out.
"Oh it's you." I whispered, pulling open the door so that Bofur could sneak in.
He began to say something and then faltered completely, his eyes widening when he took in my new hair.
I smiled somewhat as I quietly closed the door behind him and then leaned back against it.
"You think you'd be used to me experimenting with drastic new hairstyles by now." I commented lightly. He didn't smile and my spirit waned. "It's not permanent." I added quietly with a small shrug.
Again he remained quiet, staring at me with troubled and confused eyes, but eventually he took a step forward and laid a hand on my waist.
"I don't want you to leave here, with your last few memories of us fighting." he said, his voice slow and sad.
"I know. I don't want that either." I said, picking up his other hand and kissing it. "Come here." I urged, taking his hand and leading him back to my bedroom. I had developed an idea, in case he showed up, and was hoping to follow it through now.
"Sit, and could you close your eyes a moment?" I asked, directing him to the bed.
Bofur surprisingly acquiesced without question and I pulled a few items out of a drawer, one of which was the bundle of my long cut hair that I hadn't yet had the heart to toss. I separated a small chunk of it and then turned to Bofur, proceeding to remove his hat and undo his usual braids.
"What are you-" Bofur began, but I hushed him.
I freed a chunk of his hair out from under his temple, detangling it with my fingers and clipping the rest of his hair to the side. With a small piece of sinew and a bit of cursing under my breath, I managed to tie on the chunk of my blonde hair to his. I then braided it into his in a relatively small and tidy plait, especially for my standards. I secured it tightly at the bottom with more sinew and with a small dwarven clasp - just a generic silver one that Méra had a few dozen of and said I could take - I hadn't the skill to craft anything more personal. Yet still I smiled slightly at my work. My nice golden hair weaving with his rich brown created a pleasing and unique contrast. I let free the rest of his hair and grabbed my hand mirror, bidding him to open his eyes and handing him the looking glass so that he could see what I'd done.
"I remember you once saying that a lady could braid her suitor's hair as well." I explained, carefully watching his somewhat guarded expression as he turned his head to better see it. "Since I can't wear one for a while, I thought, this way, at least you'll have a piece of me... the real me." I said, becoming somewhat nervous at his continued silence. "You can take it out though, if you don't like it."
"No." Bofur said quickly, setting down the mirror and finally meeting my eye. "I wouldn't dream of it." He then grabbed my sleeve and pulled me closer. I bent down, placing my hands on his shoulders and pressing my lips against his.
It wasn't long before I made him forget... Forget about his worries and anger and doubts. Forget about our past fights, and my unsuiting dark hair. We forgot about everything, except for the feeling of our bodies sliding against each other, the taste of each other's lips, and the ecstasy of being together in all ways.
The next morning I found myself awake well before sunup and my mind immediately began racing, filling to the brim with doubt and stemming any chance of me returning to slumber. I snuggled back into Bofur's warm side, the mountain was now typically frigid at night when the fires were low, and I was happy to have a source of constant warmth beside me for once. I noticed Bofur had awoken as well, or perhaps he had never slept. I scooted up and placed a slow kiss on his mouth before nuzzling back down into his neck.
He reached an arm around me and pulled me tight against him, holding onto me with a certain desperation that caused me to cling to him as well.
All too soon I heard a determined rap on my door. I knew it was Balin, ensuring that I was awake. I begrudgingly slipped out of the covers into the cold air and quickly tiptoed to the entrance, opening the door a sliver and promising Balin in hushed tones that I would meet in his apartment within the hour. I rushed back to bed, sliding back under the blankets to warm back up again.
I wanted to tell Bofur that I had changed my mind, that I wanted to stay... that I doubted the whole thing and didn't know what I had been thinking. In that moment it would have even been the truth, but I stayed my tongue because I knew if I voiced even the slightest concern, Bofur would convince me to stay. My silence kept me strong and, though I had taken his hand and was now holding it as if it were my lifeline, I knew I couldn't go back on my word and abandon my purpose. After all, a dwarf is a dwarf while he keeps his word, or so I had heard Bombur's wife, Melvna, say chidingly to her daughters.
"I have to get ready." I whispered after a few more moments. Bofur nodded and let go of my hand.
I got up and lit a few candles around the room then shuffled to retrieve my pack of men's clothing. I bound my breasts down with a long piece of fabric that wound around my chest a few times. Bofur had sat up by this point and was watching me with gloomy eyes. He said nothing. I then donned a thin shirt, followed by the heavy sweater, followed by another loose tunic. All the clothes were quite aged and they smelled somewhat worn. I pulled on my trousers and then tied my hair back. I applied some of the black powder to my face and also my hands, making sure to get some beneath my short fingernails as well.
"Seems dangerous to try and pass as a man, you'll be caught." Bofur finally spoke up. I tried to give him a reassuring look.
"No, I'll keep my head down and I won't be doing much talking. I couldn't stay out as late or wander around as freely as a woman, men don't trust women."
Bofur suddenly stood up and grabbed my hands. "I don't want you doing this."
"I know." I said quietly, before gently pulling away from him.
We made our way together to Balin's apartments, and there a small assemblage was gathered. Bofur kept hold of my hand while some of my instructions were vocalized.
"As you might remember, a scout had reported that two wagons of outsiders were on route to Dale. It was confirmed yesterday that they should be arriving to the outer city gates by mid-afternoon today." Balin explained. "It would be ideal for you to enter the city with them. Then, during their orientation, you can slip off and make for the hideaway home that we have secured for you. You remember the location?" Balin asked me as he stepped forward and handed me an old iron key attached to a leather thong. I nodded and slipped it over my head, tucking it out of sight under my clothes. I had poured over the maps for so long that I had the main routes and shortcuts of Dale near perfectly memorized.
"And you're to leave a written report at the dead drop location at sundown, twice weekly. Do you remember where it is, lass?" Balin asked.
"Yes. I've been over all of this a hundred times." I replied somewhat impatiently, recalling the loose second stone on the left, five rows up from the bottom of a stone wall that was roughly three dozen paces eastward from my door, adjacent to a crumbled bakery building. I had recited it so often that I could practically visualise it, though it seemed an awful lot to leave to blind faith - assuming I got into the city, and assuming the house had been procured for me, and assuming the dead drop was created properly and still undiscovered, and assuming I could leave a message there without being seen or having the message taken after I left it, I was to then assume that some dwarf or another would recover the message and bring it back to Dain in due time.
Balin nodded and I shuffled my feet, trying to keep myself as alert as I needed to be despite the early hour.
"You must skirt Dale to meet up with the incoming refugees and approach the city from the south. Nori will accompany you part way and ensure you are not spotted by the city lookouts. Are you ready?"
The next few moments passed by in a blur as my heart rate seemed to double. I vaguely remember turning to Bofur, smiling, assuring him I would be fine even though every fibre in my body seemed to doubt it. We must have embraced, kissed perhaps, but I was too focused on keeping a calm exterior that I regrettably can't properly recall our goodbye. Though do remember turning back, just as I was being led out, my face already half-hidden beneath my hooded cloak, and I told Bofur one last thing with all the backing of my false confidence.
"Don't come to Dale."
It took us the better part of the morning to get from the mountain to our planned intercept location, a journey through deep snow drifts far from any prying eyes. It was a tedious and dreary start to my task, and one that had began with the two of us sneaking through the mountain itself, skirting the vast treasure chambers of Erebor until we came to a small nondescript hallway that sloped upwards, rather than down. I took this to be the hidden escape tunnel that Bilbo and the company had used to infiltrate the mountain, and my suspicions were confirmed when we exited onto a ledge several hundred yards up. We emerged from the warm depths of the mountain into the icy pre-dawn air to be treated to a stunning starscape not unlike the glowworm caves, and for a moment I couldn't help but stop to take in the brilliance.
Two of Dain's household guard were there, and thankfully saved us the painful task of climbing down the icy slopes by instead lowering us down by long coils of rope. As we descended, the immediate beauty of our situation began to fade. By the end of our descent, I was already cold and sore from the chafing of the ropes, and had to rub my hands together to bring feeling back to them as Nori unpacked two sets of snowshoes from a bag near our landing site, and then sent the empty bag back up tied to one of the ropes. The snowshoes were the first clue that we would be staying far from any path used around the mountain.
We walked in the starlight, the undisturbed snow picking up the soft light from the heavens and allowing me just enough of a field of vision at times to follow the dwarf on his way across the desolation. Good eyesight and a knack for directions seemed to be a common trait among their kind, yet Nori seemed more skilled than most at nocturnal path-finding as he guided me over hills and around thickets and through the shallowest drifts of snow.
As the sun began to peek over the Eastern horizon we were leaving the mountain behind, and were now beginning the wide sweep to the south that would take us around Dale unseen by my own kind. There were contingencies if we were spotted, of course, but whatever skill or luck Nori had at remaining undetected seemed to be holding.
With the sun came the winds, and with them came a chill that the weak rays of the sun could not combat. Only through movement could I keep myself warm, and even then by the time we took our second break I needed to cram my hands into my underarms and dance about to keep my extremities from turning frostbitten. The wind was good, though. The wind would hide our tracks, and turning to look back in the direction we came I could already see that a few hundred yards back it was impossible to tell what direction we had come from with Nori's meandering course.
"They all laughed at me when I volunteered my skills to Thorin, you know." He confided as he took a pull from a flask and then handed it to me. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the drink was non-alcoholic, and yet the heavily spied contents - rich with cinnamon and nutmeg and other unidentifiable herbs - still forced me to take only small sips despite the delicious warmth that it spread through my body.
"Except Dori, who looked horrified when I told them all I was a... purveyor of pre-owned and used goods." He winked at me and I grinned back at him.
"Had to get a blinking halfling to do my job for me though, didn't they? And then he went and mucked it up anyways. I'll give it to him though; he did a nice spot of work in Mirkwood, didn't he?"
I handed him back the flask, which I couldn't help but notice looked distinctly like something you would find in Rivendell, and he tucked it away.
"Still, as soon as Mr. Baggins goes off home, who do they come running back to for all their shiftier deeds, eh? Good old Nori."
We were crouched behind a shrubby highrise, Dale roughly north of us, and the refugee convoy winding its way up alongside the River Running some miles to the south.
Nori bustled about in his pack a moment and then handed me a belt with a sheathed knife already attached.
"Can't be too careful." he said before turning to scan the landscape once more. "I reckon if we set you up a false camp, just over there a ways, see that patchy area? You can act as if you're just packing up when they get near, and then join them. If anyone asks you could tell them you put in a long days travel yesterday and couldn't see how near the city you were when you stopped, it was snowing hard last night, it would have been hard to see anything at all. "
He gathered up what dry wood he could from the thicket and then met me at my 'campsite', where I had packed down the snow and began to lay out a bed of brush on which to set up the travel blankets we had brought for show. While I did, I marvelled at the level of preparation that had gone into this ruse. Nori was busy upending the contents of his own pack onto the ground - a bag full of ash and charcoal sufficient to look like the remains of a fire that had burned all night. He built his fresh fire on the top of the pile, and then set up a makeshift tripod to hang my small cast iron pot.
"Well, this is where I leave you." Nori said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Goodbye, Bahukhazâd. And remember; guard your life, guard your gold, guard your beard - in that order."
I grinned and watched him go, and then I threw some snow into my pot to melt into water, mechanically adding a few pine needles, while wondering what exactly it will be like to spend some time away from the dwarves.