July eased into August and the days started the noticeable decline only witnessed in earnest in the northern climes of the world. The sun, which had all summer been up long before I woke, and set long after I went to sleep, was now in the sky for noticeably shorter spans of time, and yet even that did little to marr my brightened spirit.
When I first arrived at Hall's and begrudgingly accepted the fact that I would be allowed, even encouraged, to stay, it was my expectation that while I would no longer be paying for room and board, I would otherwise spend my days much like I had before, hermited away in my room, following my own routines, and left relatively unheeded by the busy socialites I was sharing a house with. Far exceeding these expectations, though, I found I could narry spend a single day without feeling well at home, part of the family even, and was kept busy enough that I hardly noticed the passing of time, though I could not quite ignore the heaviness in my front and the growing soreness in my back.
Tea times and evening meals were often a communal affair, and were observed by some members of the family as religiously as a Hobbit's meal schedule. Interestingly, even though I was encouraged to eat my fill of a selection of fine foods at dinner, I still found myself sometimes craving the rich, fatty meats that were often offered as the main fare in Erebor. The fine folk of Dale seemed partial to finer delicacies; tart salads, light soups, leaner meats such as quail and rabbit, and a wide array of pastries, custards, and intricate desserts so sweet they made my teeth hurt. Still, I could not complain, for admittedly there had been times when living alone, especially near the end of my solitude with my finances dwindling, that a heel of bread had passed for a lunch, and I had even skipped the occasional meal altogether, despite having time scheduled right into my busy day for such endeavors. Without a doubt, my current situation was much improved as far as food was concerned.
And then there were the family's recreational pursuits.
As the days slipped by I was eternally grateful for such distractions, as whenever I did, perchance, find myself idle, my thoughts inevitably channeled their way towards Bofur and his continual absence from my life. Although I had no reason to doubt the competence of Hall's family in keeping my presence in their home a secret, I was still somewhat surprised after each week concluded that Bofur had not yet found me. As such, a gloomy conclusion was taking greater shape in my mind - that he simply was not looking. I couldn't help but begin to grow more accustomed to the grim reality that the likelihood of us reconciling, of raising our baby happily together, was becoming increasingly improbable… Perhaps not impossible, yet day after day, I still chose to remain hidden.
There was a fear within me; a fear of facing him, of facing everything. The memories from my final days in Erebor were akin to an open, festering wound - I didn't want to look at them, and even though I could not ignore the pain, I still tried to make a point of forcing myself to neatly tuck away all those confusing and conflicted thoughts somewhere deeper in my mind where they would not be as disturbed. Instead, I simply let each day run its regular course, reveling in mundane activities and pleasant company, and decidedly not making any serious decisions about my future.
To say that my growing interests began to flourish was almost an understatement. In isolation, it was only finding new, small hobbies that kept me from spiraling into an inescapable depression, yet I was always limited by supplies, space and, sometimes, enthusiasm. At Hall's, however, I had an almost inexhaustible amount of resources at my disposal and a household of excitable peers that seemed always eager to coach or learn alongside me. Adelaide, as it turned out, was interested in botany and was responsible for the array of large plants found throughout the home. When I casually expressed a desire to continue to learn more about herbs and their uses both culinarily and medicinally, she admitted she was lacking knowledge in that area, yet the next morning she tracked me down with a few books on herbalism and we began perusing them together. It wasn't long before we had a dozen small pots of new seeds planted and I had even managed to convince her to spend some time in the kitchen with me experimenting with flavours - cooking was something that had always been left to their mother Flora and the staff, so she was uncharacteristically hesitant at first before I assured her that if I could cook something at least halfway edible, she would surely be able to do the same.
Rosalin, on the other hand, was quite keen on history, and when I mentioned to her that I had in my possession some very, very old maps, she was eager to study them. Though our relationship had been previously cordial at best, cool at worst, we began to spend some evenings together in relatively easy conversation as we studied the maps and referenced various books from her library. She allowed me to pick her brain and I found I was in considerable awe of her wealth of knowledge. In fact, all of Hall's siblings clearly had a distinctly high level of education, so much so that, in comparison, I felt rather like a simpleton. My only grace was my ability to read, and hence learn, and so I devoured as many books as I possibly could without impeding on my growing need for sleep.
Along with reading, I also spent a good deal of time writing. I had an overflowing folder of pages, in relative order, of my accounts since leaving Laketown so long ago. I had come to a bit of a standstill, however, as I caught up to my memories of when Bofur and I first shared a kiss that fateful day upon the river shore:
'He looked down and then traced his hand along my arm. He paused, then gently took my hand in his. "You are so fair. In every sense." he said quietly. I sat as still as possible, my heart hammering. He looked up into my eyes; his usual light sparkle was replaced by something else.
Slowly, carefully, he reached his other hand up to my face, I felt his rough fingers brush my cheek and I very slightly leaned into his touch. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and then moved his hand to rest against the back of my neck… I closed my eyes as he pulled me towards him, our lips met. He kissed me gently, maybe too gently, so I leaned into him further and reached out to steady myself with a hand on his chest.
And then suddenly, it was over. He pulled away from me rather abruptly, his expression riddled with worry. "I'm sorry." he began, almost in a fluster, moving to get up. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-"
Quickly, I grabbed hold of his lower arms and pulled him back down. "Bofur, please, it's alright… Don't apologize." I let my grip on his arms lessen. "I... wanted you to..."
"But why?" he asked. I peered up at him, his eyes had softened and he had a small, sad smile. He shook his head slightly then looked back to me and placed his hand on my cheek. "You're too young, and beautiful. Especially for me."
I bit my lip hard after writing down the intimate scene. The pain of losing him gripped my body and I found it hard to carry on. Yet, it was not the memory of the kiss that shook me, truly, but the thought of what came after, the words he said to me that evening. It took me the whole afternoon to work up the courage to put ink to paper again:
'"You're going to settle into a life of mediocrity after all this? The woman who saw the stone giants straight out of legend. The woman who rode with a warg pack and lived to tell the tale. The woman who dragged an orc off a cliff to save the life of another! I mean, who does that? You - you have to be one of the most courageous, reckless, and damned lucky people I've ever met!" His passionate response was drawing glances from the others, and I shrunk down into myself, wishing I could meld into the stump, saving me from embarrassment. Bofur noticed, and began again in a more hushed but still powerful tone.
"People aren't born to live noteworthy lives. The lads and I are an exception to the thousands of dwarves back home who are living normal, settled lives. We chose to be here, just like you chose to run halfway across the world. And just like you chose to be a crazy, idiotic vigilante and nearly got yourself killed more than once. But now, look at what you've seen, at what you've done, you'll have more stories than any other maiden, that's for sure... We can't go back to the settled life - none of us, Thorin, Kili, Óin, Bifur - we're all going to make our lives noteworthy or die trying, and if I'm not mistaken, maybe..." he smiled a broad smile and reached out to clasp my shoulder. "...just maybe, you'll do the same."
"Besides," he added cheekily, "If you wanted a life that wasn't noteworthy, you could'a saved yourself the trouble and stayed in Bree."'
I was ashamed.
The recollection had reminded me of all that I had risked to get here, to this point, and put it all in stark juxtaposition to the settled, lonely, mediocre life I had conservatively allowed myself to envision for my child and I while shuttered away in solitude. I placed a hand on my unborn babe and made a promise to the two of us - I would live a noteworthy life, and make the best of the gift that had been given to me, that Bofur had given to me. After all, hadn't Gandalf said it best?
A touch of fate, indeed.
With some resolution I stacked and neatly tucked away all of my recordings, to be continued at some point in the future. Apart from the sharp sting of re-living such tender, bittersweet moments in as much vivid detail as I could recall (as so I might write it all down in accuracy), I knew that going forward I would be venturing into even more physically intimate memories, and I wasn't quite sure if I had the capacity to bear such thoughts in my current state; not just from the emotional distress those moments would surely generate, but also because whatever stage of pregnancy I was in seemed to now be producing a rather odd side effect. I was quite abashed at myself for suddenly beginning to experience certain bodily wants at a rather heightened level. Apart from being embarrassing, it was also rather comical, as, with my now very swollen middle causing me to hold my back and all but waddle about, I knew I was the farthest thing from being any kind of attractive. Surely, if I had been with Bofur and all was well, I doubted even he would currently want me in that way. I tried my best to ignore it, but I had to admit that even Hall was starting to give me pause for thought. Sometimes I found myself secretly admiring his masculine physique as my imagination tried to conjure up rather interesting scenarios, ones that I had to force myself to quickly smother before they started influencing my behaviour around him. Needless to say, my copy of The Corsair and the Countess was receiving a little more attention as of late.
To fill the time I had thus far spent writing, and to make progress in an interest that I had been reluctant to pursue in an effort to avoid all things dwarven, I started studying the book of dwarven and human contracts once more. Hall had graciously lent me use of his desk while I was writing my memoirs, and I continued to take advantage in this new field of study, which eventually led to my host's curiosity being piqued.
"Are you writing in dwarvish?" he asked after hunting about for a ledger he had left on one of the shelves. His own book forgotten, he approached to inspect mine. He closed in behind me, reaching an arm down to lean on the desk as he read over my shoulder. My eyes widened slightly, and my hormone crazy mind tried to make me wonder what it would be like to have his arm wrap around me instead.
I cleared my throat lightly, trying to act nonchalant despite the flush of colour now rising in my cheeks. "Copying, more like, though I can't seem to fit some of these runes to the common…"
I had transcribed a contract word for word on a blank sheet, with ample space to fit the runes above each line, yet blanks still filled much of the page where I suspected sentences were ordered differently and grammar didn't follow the same rules.
Hall leaned down even closer to examine the document more studiously for a moment. I held my breath, for I felt his own on the side of my neck and the warmth of his body enveloping my back. Suddenly he shook his head with a dismissive 'hmph' and backed away.
"I hate puzzles." he stated unabashedly, leaving me staring slack jawed at the anomaly that he was, and then he excused himself and walked out whistling an idle tune, as though he hadn't just witnessed such a rarity of a book that I suspected ancient kings and emperors would have razed kingdoms to acquire, had they known of its existence.
There was still one conquest I had yet to revisit, and given my new outlook on life and not letting it go to waste, I attempted once more to do battle, though this time not with sword and shield but with needles and yarn, much to my chagrin. Just as with the sword, though, I reluctantly came around to the fact that there were things I could not learn on my own. I would need a teacher; a master of the craft like Ganon would have been ideal, but even a crash course with someone like Fili would suffice.
One evening, I had even nearly worked up the courage to ask granny if she'd coach me on knitting, as I often saw her clicking away in her chair, her hands moving with a long practiced grace. However, her often rather shrewd mannerisms and cool persona caused me to shy away from ever broaching the subject.
A chance at recruiting a different tutor, however, suddenly presented itself one afternoon. I was just heading down to tea when Hall intercepted me in the hallway.
"You may want to lay low." he half whispered, placing his hand on my upper arm and guiding me to turn around. "We have a visitor." he said into my ear. His voice, lowered to keep quiet, along with his sudden closeness sent an inexplicable jolt of energy speeding towards my core. I inwardly cursed at myself, feeling ashamed of my own body. Luckily my curiosity helped redirect my thoughts back to the present moment and I managed to keep my composure.
"Who is it?" I whispered somewhat conspiratorially, turning to glance up at him.
"Bard's daughter, Sigrid. She's here to see Rosalin." he muttered as we took a few steps back towards my room.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, stopping and looking back over my shoulder. Hall studied me with raised brows. "Well, it's just that I might not be opposed to seeing her." I said and then bit my lip, taking a few seconds to collect my thoughts. Coming to a decision, I nodded.
"Is that wise?" Hall asked.
I took another moment and then nodded again. "I trust her." I said collectedly. "And I at least owe her the truth for all that she's done for me."
Hall said nothing but lifted his head in acknowledgment. I started forward but then hesitated.
"Actually, I wonder if you might just have her come up when she's through with Rosalin? I don't want to disturb them, and I think she will be a little surprised to see me looking like this." I added with a sheepish grin, placing a hand atop the swell of my stomach.
"Sure thing." Hall replied. "I'll have Quinton bring you up some refreshments in the meantime, since you'll be missing out on the tea."
"Come in." I called out as calmly as I could manage, trying to mimic the ever graceful persona of my hosts, all so well trained in formality and genteel manners, even though I was nearly jittery with anticipation.
My door clicked open and Sigrid slipped inside, looking quite confused until she saw me. She began to smile and opened her mouth to speak, but then her eyes took in all of me, and whatever she had intended to say was transformed into a very surprised "oh."
I grinned in embarrassment but held out my hands in welcome. "I know you probably have a few questions." I said, allowing her a moment to regain her composure. Thankfully it did not take long and she quickly stepped fully into the room, her smile returning.
"I half expected to find you here, especially when Hall told me that someone upstairs wished to speak with me in private." she commented. "I just didn't quite expect… well…" she trailed off, her eyes quickly darting toward my midsection once more.
"I know, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you." I replied, reaching out and grabbing her hand. "But I am indebted to you, and, if you have the time and wish to hear it, I will tell you everything now."
Sigrid seemed somewhat at a loss for words when I had finished my tale. She had sat politely, intently, nodding in understanding here and there, and other times frowning in slight confusion or empathy. When I finally reached the moment of agreeing to abandon the initial room she had secured me in Dale, and instead move in with Hall and his family for the duration of my pregnancy, I petered off and reached for a cup of water, my throat somewhat dry after so much speaking.
"So I've just been here the rest of the time." I concluded with a small shrug, not feeling the need to take up more of her day by going into all the more humdrum routines of my current day-to-day life.
Sigrid nodded slowly, then, for the first time, took a minute to survey my new quarters.
"Well, that's good really," she began tentatively, "if I'd known of your true… predicament when you came to me in the spring, I never would have agreed to lodge you in those apartments all alone. If anything had happened to you…" she bit her lip and focused her gaze out the window.
I could sense she was suddenly feeling guilty and so I tried to put her mind at ease.
"My choices were my own, and I would have been fine there." I assured gently. "I am sorry for not being totally forthright though." I added once again, hoping she would still be able to view me with some level of trust despite my dishonesty. "Mind you, I must admit, I do feel more comfortable here… in fact, they are downright spoiling me."
Sigrid turned to face me with a small grin. "I'm glad you're here, and that you decided to tell me." She hesitated a moment and then tilted her head. "Are you still in hiding then?"
I sighed and then nodded. "For now, yes. It really wouldn't do to have Bofur find out I'm here." I placed my hand protectively over my stomach, knowing it might not be too much longer before the babe would make an appearance. I didn't want anything to jeopardize my safe-house before the bairn was born and in my arms, and an ugly confrontation could do just that. I looked at Sigrid somewhat imploringly. "I hope I can count on your continued discretion?"
Sigrid assured me that she would continue to keep my secret before stating that she had to be off to tend to dinner for her household.
"Oh Sigrid, wait." I called out to her before she could exit my room. "There was one more thing I wanted to ask of you, if you ever had the time that is." I began, awkwardly pushing myself to my feet and approaching her by the door. Sigrid looked almost trepidatious, as if she didn't want to once again feel responsible for the well being of a pregnant friend by agreeing to another favour, luckily this time it was not such a weighty one and so I quickly finished my thought. "I was just wondering if you might ever be able to come and show me how to knit? Even just the basics and how to start up, I know you're so busy, but-"
Sigrid cut me off, her expression instantly relaxing. "Of course I could." she replied with a smile. "I usually take Sunday mornings off to myself, perhaps I could plan to come over then?"
I nodded enthusiastically while thanking her and then gave her a parting hug, feeling infinitely grateful that I still had a few gracious friends I could rely upon even in my most desperate times.
By the time the month was half gone, I was finally feeling like I could at least knit a scarf without it turning into a tangled fishing net - helped in part by granny giving me some crassly worded, yet still useful tips whenever she saw me at it. Striking off this final accomplishment from my admittedly quite small and relatively unexciting list of goals, paired with the fact that my pregnancy had thus far progressed without any problems, had me feeling quite pleased with myself, so much so that I was privately congratulating myself on my clearly astounding capabilities. Conspicuously soon after, however, was when things began to turn south and reality seemed to catch up with me.
Though I had been plagued with small ailments as my body began to strain with the new weight, and my sleep was beginning to be impacted by my general discomfort in most positions, I otherwise had felt really quite fine besides generally being slightly more tired than usual. Yet suddenly it felt like my energy was all but gone, even if I managed to sleep decently enough, and the pain in my back became more persistent than ever. I found it difficult to sit on ceremony for most of the day and so began skipping some tea times, instead indulging in fitful naps. My appetite remained normal, yet I was unable to finish my meals.
Adelaide had their handmaid, Gwen, forgo some of her other duties so that she might check in on me more, and it seemed I now always had warm tea, prepared food and an evening fire in my room to help keep me more relaxed. The women of the house otherwise didn't seem overly concerned with my new state. Flora assured me that the final weeks were always the most uncomfortable, and so I was not worried myself, just increasingly miserable. Still, I tried to be cordial and made attempts to still include myself as I had before, just now it was less frequent and I couldn't help but inelegantly squirm about in my seat in discomfort if I remained too long. Otherwise I all but halted most of my other personal pursuits, with the exception of knitting and reading very casual books (I found my mind was no longer up for more complicated diversions).
Sigrid called again the following Sunday for my second knitting lesson, where we ventured away from making rectangles and she began tutelage in slightly more complicated shapes such as small tubes - which could then be turned into socks, or likely sleeves someday when I became talented enough to make the adjoining sweater.
"Are you feeling well?" Sigrid asked gently as I was attempting to cast off.
I paused and looked up at her. "Just feeling a little tired." I replied with a weary smile, setting my bundle of yarn down in my lap in a rather defeated fashion.
Likely sensing I was no longer interested in continuing, Sigrid declared I had made enough progress for the day and that she had a few errands to attend to anyway. "We can continue again next week if you're feeling up for it." she added before saying her goodbyes.
After resting in my room through lunch, I decided to muster my remaining energy to join Rosalin, Hall and Granny for tea time that afternoon. Aside from those steadfast holdouts to the ritual, the main floor was deserted, as other members of the household pursued interests more dear to them than standing on ceremony - the wildness of the north really was wearing off on them, and none of them seemed the least bit ashamed of it.
After my second crumpet and third refill of tea, I was about to make my excuses and take my leave since my back could no longer handle the torture of the rigid chair, when Quinton suddenly entered the room in a slightly more harried fashion than was typical.
"What is it?" Rosalin asked him, her voice only hinting at some small level of concern.
"Begging your pardon," he began, looking first at her, then glancing towards me somewhat nervously before settling his gaze upon Hall. "Sir, there is a dwarf caller… I tried to turn him away but he is behaving a tad, ah, forward. He is demanding an audience with-"
I unintentionally cut him off by making a slight scene before I could even help myself. A loud gasp escaped my lips and I must have also jostled, as suddenly half of my tea was dripping down my hand and overflowing my saucer. Thankfully, so far into teatime, the drink was now rather tepid and so I didn't burn myself, yet fussed for a moment over the drips now smattering across my lap. Then I looked up and saw that everyone was staring at me, wide-eyed. Unsure how to proceed and rather lost for words, I set my dripping saucer down on a cloth napkin and then tried to quickly gather my thoughts. Did I intend to hole up in my room, or rush out to confront him? Did I even want to see him? Hadn't I spent the past few months in hiding - at the detriment of my own health and mental well-being at that?
Before I could fully answer my own thoughts, Hall had risen from his seat and was heading past Quinton, towards the door.
"Wait!" I said, breaking the awkward silence that had arisen as I scrambled to my feet and moved to intercept Hall. "I'll go."
Hall had turned to look at me. "No. I should go speak with him first." he said, his voice calm, yet oddly firm in his reply.
I stared at him a moment, slightly flabbergasted that he would deny me this, and still in somewhat of a state of shock over the entire situation, but then I shook my head and began to object.
Hall held up a hand. "You are my guest, and, as such, your safety is my priority."
Again it took a moment for my rattled mind to make sense of what was happening. When I registered his words, I frowned in confusion, wondering why Hall would possibly think I could be in any kind of danger. Despite everything, I could not imagine Bofur actually threatening my person.
"No, Hall, just let me go." I implored after finally finding my voice. "He clearly knows I'm here now, so I think we must speak with each other… he won't harm me." I added, gazing up at him steadily even though my mind was in an absolute turmoil.
Hall lightly took hold of my shoulder but his next words held a slight edge of command. "He could be agitated, or inebriated. I just want to make sure he's not here to cause trouble."
Fully aware that an interaction between Bofur and Hall at this stage could very likely mean disaster, I knew I had to stand my ground and make him see sense. "Hall…" I frowned, reaching up and grabbing his hand, removing it from my shoulder but giving it a small squeeze as I gulped past the growing dryness in my throat. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go."
Hall, picking up on my growing distress, studied my face, staying silent so that I might have a chance to continue speaking. I grimaced but tried to muster the courage to tell him the one thing I should have before even accepting his offer to lodge in his home. "He… well, the problem is that he-" I stammered, quickly glancing around the room, wondering if I should keep my next words private, or if it even mattered as it all might come to a head anyway. I stepped in closer to him and tilted my head up, putting my mouth closer to his ear so that I could at least say the damning fact quietly, hoping that the others wouldn't hear… but then I lost my courage. I drew back slightly. I didn't want to humiliate him in front of his family, and I certainly didn't want him to suddenly despise me for my treachery, for accepting sanctuary in his home knowing full well the dwarves would condemn him for his charity. "Just let me go to him." I finally managed to utter. "Please."
Hall regarded me and arranged his face into one of kindness. "Not yet." he said gently but firmly. "Stay here for now. Quinton, help her find her seat."
Before I could say or do anything more, he had turned on his heel and departed the room while Quinton, taking his master's que, had rather quickly come up and took hold of my arm in a strong enough grip to discourage me from following.
Not wanting to create a scene in front of Rosalin and Granny, and not feeling strong enough to try to wrest myself free anyway, I allowed him to guide me back to my chair and sat down heavily with a small sigh of exhaustion. Quinton then refreshed my drink before taking a stoic position standing near the door.
The others seemed to be watching me out of the corners of their eyes and the room remained so quiet that when I took a sip of my tea, the sound seemed grossly loud to my own ears. I flushed and so kept my gaze locked on my own lap. Eventually Granny's knitting needles took up their regular rhythmic clicking and the atmosphere of the room seemed to relax, if only slightly.
Before we could all get too comfortable, however, muffled voices, clearly being spoken at a crescendo even though they originated somewhere beyond several thick walls, began to pierce our silence.
Forgetting my weariness, I slid forward to the edge of my seat, perching tense upon it, leaning forward to try to hear anything more as my hands gripped my tea saucer so tightly that my knuckles were turning white.
Rosalin cleared her throat and I managed to pry my eyes away from the door long enough to spare her a glance. Her delicate brows knitted together slightly as she frowned at me, she then set down her tea. "You don't have to listen to him, you know." she commented, her voice betraying no emotion, yet the side of her mouth had quirked up into a small smirk. "He's not your keeper, none of us are."
I gaped at her slightly, wondering if she was in fact giving me leave to go, and then shot a quick look towards granny. The elder woman looked towards the hallway in consideration when the voices outside reached another crescendo, then narrowed her eyes shrewdly and gave me the ghost of a nod to show I had her blessing. I rose from my seat, and when Quinton moved to stop me Granny's ornate cane whipped out and smacked into his arm smartly, holding him fast. Quinton stared at her for a moment but seemed to remember his place and held his tongue. With a small grin towards the elderly matriarch, I dipped past him and to the door.
When I exited into the hallway, I could more clearly discern the voices that I had been so desperate to hear from behind the thick door of the sitting room. One, of course, was Hall's, and the other was so intimately familiar, and yet for months it had been nothing more than an echo in my heart. Hearing it again awakened something inside of me and spurred me into motion. I dashed towards the entrance foyer, unable to hold myself back even a moment longer, and pushed through the door. I then stopped dead in my tracks when my eyes finally took him in. Everything became quiet. My legs, which moments before had easily careened me through the reception hall, now felt as heavy as lead. I managed to force myself to fully exit the threshold, shutting the door behind me, and then took a few further steps forward until I was finally abreast with Hall.
It was a warm afternoon, the sun instantly warmed the skin on my face, and it would have risen my spirits if not for the expression on Bofur's face - which did not seem to at all reflect the cheery atmosphere of the day's fair weather.
Even though I expected some conflict between himself and Hall, I still wasn't truly prepared for him to look at me with such anger, for our first encounter to immediately feel so hostile. His eyes bore into mine but they were full of scrutiny. Minutes seemed to pass and neither of us spoke, eventually his gaze left my own and he took in the rest of me, his mouth slackening slightly when he studied my midsection. My own mouth felt dry. This was not the reunion I had imagined. I had to find my voice, to try to explain.
"Bofur, I know what this must look like, but I promise you, it isn't what it seems." I was unsure if I should rush up and grab onto his hands, to try to implore him, or else to simply give him his space. His body language made me decide against the former and I lingered where I was and placed a gentle hand atop my stomach - a habit that I'd developed as soon as I learnt of the child growing within.
Bofur raised his eyebrows but his face was still quite cynical. "Is that so?" he questioned slowly, and I could tell by his tone that he was unconvinced. "Well lass, forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe."
I opened my mouth to retort, but then closed it again, unsure how to proceed. I couldn't quite understand why he wasn't at least happy to have found me, why he wasn't rushing up to me, throwing himself at my feet in apology, then sweeping me up into an embrace where we would both forgive all wrongs and move forward with our lives, back together. The reunion I had always imagined had proceeded similarly - this, however, felt all wrong.
"Why are you here then?" I asked him helplessly, still hoping he would tell me the words I so longed to hear; that he wanted to reconcile, that he missed me and loved me, and needed me to come home.
Whatever bluster he had arrived with, however, seemed to have deflated, for his response was dull and worryingly lifeless.
"I guess I just needed to see for myself," he began, his eyes flicking to Hall for a moment before returning to me, "that you were actually here, that you were being taken care of… I can see now that you're, ah, quite comfortable."
A tiny hint of snide traced its way into his last remark as he once again looked me over, taking in my new fine clothing and tidy hairstyle (courtesy of Gwen). I felt my heart rate begin to quicken its pace as a plethora of emotions began to well up inside of me, but I took a breath and tried to maintain my composure.
"That's it?" I asked, the tiniest tremor in my voice betraying my growing unease. He didn't respond and so I took a small step towards him, looking at him imploringly. "Why now? After all this time? It's been months, Bofur, where were you?" I finished in barely more than a whisper.
Bofur scowled at me, something I did not feel I deserved in the slightest, and I felt my hackles begin to raise.
"I'm fully aware how long it's been." he hissed. "I should have known you'd be here after all, though I expected better from the people of Dale - they all betrayed me…but none worse than you."
"I'm fully aware how long it's been." he hissed. "I should have known you'd be here after all, though I expected better from the people of Dale." he scoffed, turning to look around him at the city's streets and homes, opening his arms before him. "They've all betrayed me," he accused, then his tone wavered dangerously low as he turned back around and flared at me. "…but none worse than you."
"What!?" I shrieked, but he continued before I could defend myself, stepping closer and leaning forward so that his next words bore right into me.
"You outright lied to me! Even though I gave you my blessing to go, to help you, to forgive you… But instead you held fast to your lies and then slunk away in the night without any explanation or apology." he shook his head, his lip curling in disdain. "Here, all this time I've been blaming myself. I thought I'd made a mistake. And yet all this time you've been here, with him, being coddled by the looks of it... I shouldn't have bothered even worrying."
Before I could take in a breath, preparing myself to shout my rebuttals at him, another loud voice filled the space.
"What on earth are you talking about, man?" Hall demanded, coming to stand by my side in my defense. "I'll have you know that I found your wife living alone in a hovel, on the last of her coin, I'd wager - she'd been there for weeks, months even, heck she'd probably be there still if I hadn't invited her to stay with us."
Bofur seemed momentarily confused, but then his eyes widened a fraction as he looked me over once more.
"Hall, can you give us a moment?" I asked, turning slightly to shoot him a pleading glance.
"I'm not leaving you alone with him, not when he's acting like this." Hall replied in a voice that seemed far too calm for the situation at hand. His response seemed to aggregate both Bofur and myself in equal measure. My glance hardened into a glare.
"Please." I begged, but he did not relent.
"I'll give you some space, but I'm not leaving." he stated firmly before retreating back to the door and casually leaning against it.
I flashed him the briefest of scathingly polite smiles, in thanks for his wildly unhelpful chivalry, then tentatively closed the distance between Bofur and I. Thankfully the street beyond the yard was otherwise unoccupied, as by the look on his face I could tell we were far from having a civil, quiet conversation at this point.
Bofur snorted and shook his head. "I've been wanting to speak with you since you ran away, and here we can't even have a private discussion anymore? You are still my wife, at least in legal title. You fled so quickly that we didn't have time to rewrite the documents." he added with a sneer.
I bristled. "Bofur, I waited for you!" I choked, gripping at my own clothing to give my hands something to do as I fought the urge to rush forward and grab him, shake him, possibly hit him, I didn't quite know. "There was plenty of time for us to talk but you didn't come back! I wanted to make amends and I waited for you for almost two whole days, but you didn't come home, instead you reported me! Legality be damned, where's the loyalty in that?"
I didn't hit him, not physically, but the blow struck him all the same and he flinched.
"What did you honestly expect me to do after the trial?" I lamented, letting my hands fall defeated to my sides. "You gave me no choice. I had to leave."
"I never meant…" he began, somewhat pathetically I thought, then concluded strong. "The trial wasn't supposed to be that way."
"I never wanted any of my life to be this way!" I snapped furiously, all the anger and pain and frustration coming to bear after so many long years of hardship. "I never asked for any of it! I didn't want my father to die, or your wife for that matter. I didn't want to be sold into servitude, or to be caught fleeing it by your damned company of misfits! I didn't want to fight orcs and elves and men to get halfway across the world only to find out my mother was dead, or to have a dragon burn down the last memories I had of her, or to end up in that wretched mountain. In that mountain, with you." My conviction was spent, and so my last words were quiet and full with only raw, unfiltered anguish as I looked out at him with so much hurt.
"I never asked to fall in love…" I sobbed. "All I ever wanted was a home… a family…"
Bofur's tension eased then, and he took a step towards me, towards my arms that were now curled protectively about our unborn child, but then I could see his eyes flicker to Hall waiting at the doorway behind me, and he was stone faced once more.
"I can see you've found what you were looking for then."
"How dare you!" I spat, withdrawing from his approach. "You had this one chance to put things right, Bofur, and you're failing! Not that you even deserve my forgiveness-"
"That's not fair." Bofur growled, surging forward and grabbing my forearm with just enough unexpected pressure to make me gasp. "We both know I'm not the only one that might not deserve forgiveness."
"How can you say that?" I hissed, my face now quite close to his as he had pulled me forward into a slight stoop and was holding me in place. "I've done nothing wrong!"
"Let her go." Hall's voice suddenly interjected and then he was beside me, looming over Bofur with crossed arms.
Bofur eyed him up, unimpressed, and then scoffed. "Do you reckon it was really love, then, lad, or was she just doing what needed to be done on that fool's errand of hers to make you spill your secrets?" He looked between the two of us and smirked. "Seems like both of you got more than you bargained for out of the deal."
I wrenched my arm out of his grasp with an angry cry, then smacked him with all the force I could muster. His hand came up automatically to swipe against his cheek as his gaze darkened still.
"How can you be so cruel?" I sobbed, and would have hit him again were it not for Hall catching my hand.
"Do either of you care to explain what's going on?" Hall questioned, and for once in his life I got the sense that he was completely and truly in the dark as to the true motives unfolding before him. I pitied him for it, but my struggling did not cease.
I turned on him then, prying my arm free yet again with anger still hot in my veins. "Oh Hall! Are you truly that daft? He thinks you're the father!" I half shouted, tossing my hands into the air in true exasperation. "He has since the very moment he found out, and of course my being here all but proves it in his thick skull. I should never have come here. It's all such a bloody mess!"
I had expected Hall to be absolutely shocked, to rise up to defend our virtue, to be so furious as to start a brawl, or at least to burst out into laughter and make light of what a huge joke this all was, but instead he steeled himself and tilted his chin up slightly.
"I might as well be." he stated calmly, defiantly. "If it is truly your plan to just abandon her now. Then I'll take care of her… of both of them."
I squeezed my eyes shut, half in guilt; for tangling Hall and his family up in my mess of a life and thereby forcing him to feel responsible for me, and half in aggravation; as his reply likely sealed our fate - Bofur and I would now never reconcile. Rather than rising to the bait, Bofur simply shook his head in sad amazement. "You really are committed to this charade…"
The lump in my throat was becoming difficult to speak over and my next words were strangled. "You don't trust me, and I sure as hell can't trust you after everything you've done... Bofur, I don't know what to do anymore!"
His posture seemed to shrink slightly and he took a slow step back. "Just… live your life." he replied after a moment, all trace of emotion leaving his voice. "Forget about me... Be happy."
He continued to back away from us and my eyes blurred over with tears. I was about to reach out to him, to beg him to wait, but his final words immobilized me.
"Don't ever come back to the mountain, I don't want to see you again."
I pressed a hand over my mouth to stem the sobs I could no longer hold back, and then he turned his back on me, and left.
Hall tried to console me as best he could, but still my emotions raged on.
Anguish turned to regret.
Regret turned to fury.
And fury turned to hate.
I shook off Hall and stormed back through the house, only vaguely registering faces peering through doorways or over railings from the upper floors of the house. The commotion was so unprecedented that even the usual pretense of privacy was forgotten, still I paid them no heed. I fumbled with my wedding braid as I went, pulling it free from the rest of my hair and then trying, to no avail, to remove the bead. When that failed, I huffed up the stairway to the second floor and entered the bathing room, where all manner of toiletries and tools were kept for self grooming. I began to tear through drawers and baskets, assuming after such an outburst I would be left to my own designs, and yet after searching and searching and not finding what I was looking for, a cough from the doorway caught my attention. I stopped like a spooked deer and looked up to find Granny in the doorway, brandishing a pair of scissors.
"Many men instinctively reach for a blade when they get upset. Being a woman, I expected more from you."
I shook my head. She didn't understand - couldn't understand.
"Give them to me. I'll feel better if I just cut it off!" I pleaded, then a wave of deja vû hit me so hard that I physically staggered backwards. I could see Kili and Fili clear as day, their voices clear and joking, as if they had never left, and then some of Kili's encouragement, though I knew it was said at a different time, a different place.
"Tell Bofur to braid it for you."
I felt faint, and Granny moved as quick as she could towards one of the benches under the room's wide windows. "You look as though you've seen a ghost, girl. And you're white as one too. Sit down before you tumble and make a fool of us both when I try and fail to get you back up!"
I scrambled towards the bench, my body trembling, and once seated pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes to try to stop the specters of my past from haunting me further.
It took a long while before my heart finally slowed to normal, and even longer still before I was able to draw in a full, steady breath of air. I noticed that Granny had not joined me, and was instead setting the room back to rights. She seemed to know I was more alert though, and so she began talking as she carried on
"You must be wondering why I am not more sympathetic to you, spurned by a dwarf as you were." She paused to fret over a few combs and brushes and then resumed. "This may come as a surprise to you, but I don't hate dwarves."
The revelation came as a surprise to me. "Your grandchildren…" I began, but she interrupted me.
"- believe what I allowed them to believe. The truth, as I'm sure you're aware…" she added with a pointed look towards my stomach, "is always much more complicated. Some people just don't understand, or don't care to understand." I gave her an incredulous look - she was right though. If ever anyone was a victim to others not understanding the situation, it was me.
"You are aware that this family did not come from a life of luxury?" she asked, and I nodded. Some comments she had made in the past suggested as such, though their lavish lifestyle now seemed impossible to achieve without always being born into it. "We have some connection to the ancient nobles of old, but so do a lot of others in this world, just as likely to be a beggar or a farmer as to make something of themselves. My father had the good sense to work with the dwarves, you see. The White Mountains to the northwest of Gondor had been infested with orcs for a time, but the Rohirrim drove them out and dwarves began to settle around the White City. They needed supplies, and so my father invested in carts and goods to trade for the ore that was being mined…" She glanced at me once more and, seeing the fatigue that was slowly threatening to overcome me, she cut to the chase. Her assessment was only part correct though - true, I was tired, but my interest was also otherwise distracted by visions of my own father trading up and down the River Running.
"In my youth I would travel with him, and spent quite a lot of time in the company of young dwarves. Too much time, some might say." she mused wistfully, drawing my attention back to her, but her gaze was fixed somewhere a thousand miles away and sixty years in the past as she idly ran a hand up to her hair. It took me a moment to realize that she was unfastening a clip that held her usual tightly styled hair in place, allowing her to draw a small braid loose. It lacked any sort of clasp or embellishment, just tied with a small length of cord, but I recognized the style immediately.
A dwarven style. A courting braid.
She saw that I had taken notice, and so she continued. "When we were discovered it was a great hullabaloo. Lots of strong language came into play - blasphemy, sacrilege, disgrace, but I think the words I loathed the most were to do with preserving their culture, their cherished traditions - as if their whole civilization was to be kept apart from all of us lowly others." She spoke it all with equal measures of sadness and frustration, and finally restored her sense of calm and addressed me again directly.
"So you see, dear, my displeasure isn't with any individual dwarf. It's their secrets I hate, and their insistence that they remain apart from all others in this world."
Though surprised to find a kindred spirit in Granny of all people, and somewhat flabbergasted by the raw honesty being granted to me by the member of Hall's household who had intimidated me the most, I still found little comfort in her words. I sighed and shook my head ruefully.
"That's a fine story, but I don't see how another story about a woman and a dwarf with an unhappy ending is supposed to help me here."
"That chapter of my life ended a long time ago." she began. "Yours was continuing here and now, not a half an hour ago. After searching for so long, is it really that difficult to understand his frustration at finding you here?"
"I doubt he's been searching for me." I retorted with a glum surety.
"You're letting your emotions interfere with what you've seen with your own two eyes! Think, girl! Did that poor dwarf really look like he's been sitting idle to you?" she admonished sharply, and though I was long since grown, I still felt like a schoolgirl back in Laketown being asked to recall a fact I had learned not ten minutes earlier. I fumbled to remember him through the fog of rage that had now obscured our encounter, and true enough little details in his appearance began to stand out.
"He hasn't looked that dirty since we reached the mountain." I finally admitted, funny that would be the first detail that stood out, but it was true - he'd lost his treasured bar of soap in Mirkwood (he accused Bomber of eating it, actually, and everyone had been a bit addled, so he very well could have), then in the days that followed he had grown more and more disheveled. He had that same look now, the look of one who had been on the road for days, perhaps weeks, without time nor care for personal appearance.
Granny gave me the curt nod of a teacher satisfied with her student's effort, but her eyebrow raised a notch and I could tell she expected me to go on.
"…He's tired." I added softly with a frown. "In all our travels he had always seemed so unwavering, until… until the battle, and…" I paused, looking down at my hands. I couldn't bring myself to finish, but I felt that despite days and days without sleep during the lead up to the Battle of the Five Armies, it was the overwhelming grief following the death of Thorin that had really pushed him beyond the brink of exhaustion.
"Good." she praised, then finally moved to sit alongside me, reaching out to take my hand in hers. "But you've missed one final detail, my dear." Her thumb reached out to brush against the band of gold still fitted onto my finger. I focused on my memory of our argument once more, and realized she was right.
Bofur was still wearing his ring.