I do not own any of the characters or The Hobbit (just the AU storyline and my OC). Those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fan fics would not be in existence.
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Beorn sniffed the blackened ground, growling to himself. His bear nose easily tracked all the scents of those who had been there, but he did not need the scents to know this. The scene in front of him spoke for itself.
His golden eyes roamed over the burnt warg and orc carcasses in the small clearing. The fallen, burnt trunks of trees were littered around, some on top of the carcasses. Their long, broken trunks bore the deep gouges of giant eagle talons in the blackened wood. Ash littered the ground as well, having mixed with the rains that had poured since the altercation.
There were a great many goblin tracks on the forest floor, and the dead orcs had been stripped of what weaponry had survived the large fire. The great man doubted much had, but he knew that goblins, for all their stupidity, would not turn down a weapon if it were available. He highly suspected they would have eaten the carcasses as well had they not been so charred.
So Gandalf's remarkable tale was indeed true.
The giant bear had come across a few goblin scouts the night before, and easily dispatched the foul vermin. However, he left one alive to answer his final question about whether or not the Great Goblin was dead. In fear for its life, the goblin quickly told the tale. In between curses at wizards and dwarves, Beorn got the story he looked for.
The goblin also spoke some other things to the skinchanger, not the least of which was the troubling news that more goblins and orcs alike were gathering at Dol Guldur. The death of the Great Goblin had served to only enrage their kind further, and in the absence of his leadership, others had risen to take their place. And unlike the lazy Great Goblin, they were far more formidable and aggressive enemies.
Now, as he viewed the damage wrought by the wizard's fiery onslaught, the last pieces of the puzzle came together at last. Beorn knew the dwarves were to be hunted until every last one of their company was dead- the captured goblin had said as such, but he had no need to do so. The death of the Great Goblin, the damage wrought in the clearing, and the death of many of their kind, orc, warg, and goblin alike, was certainly going to cause many to seek revenge. Beorn, having seen firsthand how vengeful orcs can be, knew that nothing would stop them until the company of Thorin Oakenshield breathed their last.
Turning swiftly on his heel, the great bear headed east as fast as his strong paws could carry him, hoping to reach the stone house before anything else could.
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Cirashala's eyes fluttered open, though they still felt very heavy. The faint sound of birds chirping outside was almost drowned by a loud buzzing, and she blinked in the bright sunlight streaming from a window in the stone wall opposite her. The young woman groaned as she shut her eyes.
I don't know what Oin uses for painkillers, but my head feels like lead.
A voice suddenly sounded just above her head, and the startled young woman jumped a bit, only for Bilbo to come into view as he rounded the stable wall.
"Cirashala? Are you awake?" he asked, smiling warmly at her. She nodded, before reaching her hand up to massage her temple.
"What's in Oin's herbs?" she mumbled as she rubbed her eyes. "My head feels so heavy."
"I'm not sure," Bilbo replied, setting a tray filled with food on top of the wooden crate next to her bed. "Whatever he has, he found it in Beorn's garden, as the goblins took most of his things out of his pack. But it seemed to do the trick. I daresay you haven't even stirred since everyone else woke up." His eyes softened as he looked at her.
"I was beginning to wonder if I'd only dreamed you woke up last night," he said quietly, settling himself down on the soft hay on the floor beside her makeshift bed. "You slept so soundly that Kili and Bofur both checked this morning to see if you were still breathing." Cirashala groaned as she sunk her head back into her pillow.
"I did get some sleep once the herbs started working," she said quietly, her tongue also feeling a bit heavy and dry. "More sleep than I've had in a while, it feels like." Bilbo chuckled.
"Well, you were asleep for a couple of days after you fainted, thanks to Gandalf's healing spells," he replied. "But I imagine you needed a great deal more than that, given how exhausted you both looked when you came riding in." His brow furrowed in concern, and he reached up to gently clasp her hand.
"Cirashala, I understand you feel you need to prove yourself to the dwarves," he said quietly, his gaze full of understanding. "I've felt that way too. I'm even smaller than you, and less strong, and at least you know a bit about weaponry, whereas all I know how to do is conkers and wave my sword around. Fat lot of good that does out here!" The hobbit grimaced, regret lacing across his features, and she imagined he felt incredibly foolish about having bragged about his skill in conkers in Bag End to a group of seasoned dwarf warriors.
"But even if you don't tell them you're hurt," He continued, locking his gaze with her. "You can tell me. I may not be a healer, but I do know a little bit, especially after reading all those healing books in Elrond's library back in Rivendell. I can at least wrap and tend your wounds for you, and I promise I wouldn't look at anything I shouldn't." The hobbit's expression was genuine and sincere, and the young woman felt guilty about having hidden the extent of her wounds to the company.
In truth, her back had really begun to hurt in the woods. In many ways, her hunger often drowned out some of the pain, but she had begun to be able to put less and less weight on the wounds with each mile they traversed. She wasn't quite sure why she hadn't simply given up on ever reaching the company and accepted her fate to die in the woods, but then her thoughts trailed toward Kili and his illness.
Perhaps trying to keep him alive and get him to the company gave me a reason to keep going.
She thought back to her time with Kili in the woods, and how they both tried desperately to keep heading east despite their wounds and illness. She also recalled the several moments when he'd tried to hide his own illness and injuries from her, out of what she'd guessed was dwarf stubbornness and pride. She'd been so angry that he had done so, especially as she was both willing and able to tend his illness and his wounds as best she could under the circumstances. Suddenly, she understood why Kili had been so angry with her when she'd awakened last night after she'd hidden her festering wounds from him in the woods.
I did the same thing I got mad at him for. I guess I'm far more stubborn than I realize too.
A clatter sounded beside her, breaking her from her thoughts. Bilbo was attempting to pour what seemed like milk from a large jug that was almost half as long as he was into an equally large bowl on the tray beside her bed. Despite the dull ache in her head and back, she couldn't help but be somewhat amused at the comical image.
Her mouth felt incredibly dry, though her thoughts were clearer than they had been during the night thanks to Oin's medicines, and she looked wistfully at the large mug the hobbit was now pouring milk into. Bilbo followed her gaze, realization quickly dawning in his features. Setting down the large flagon on the floor with a loud thump, he brushed his hands off before moving next to the bed.
"Do you need help sitting up?" he asked, reaching down to her shoulder. Attempting with little success to push her shoulders off the hay filled straw tick, the young woman nodded. Bilbo gently reached under her shoulders, slowly easing her up.
Cirashala tried to aid him in the process, as the hobbit's face quickly reddened from the exertion, but her hands had trouble gaining a good enough hold to accomplish the task.
Oin's medicine must not have worn off completely yet. My back surprisingly doesn't hurt much, but I feel like my arms also weigh a ton.
The hobbit finally managed to get her torso upright, and quickly grabbed a few pillows to stuff behind her back to avoid negating his previous efforts. Her head suddenly began to swim with the change in position, and she blinked several times as her breathing quickened and the room began to spin around her.
"Are you settled?" he asked, concern in his gaze as he stared worriedly at her face. She nodded, the spinning in the room slowing a bit.
"I-I think...I j-just need something t-to drink," she gasped. "Dizzy..." The cup of milk was in her line of vision in less than a second, and her hands came up to weakly grasp the wood as Bilbo carefully aided her in sipping the white liquid.
"Is that better?" he asked, setting the mug down after a moment. She nodded gratefully. Licking her dry lips on instinct, the young woman was a bit startled at the slightly metallic, coppery taste.
"A-are my lips bleeding?" she asked, looking up at the hobbit in confusion, and Bilbo nodded.
"Aye," he said ruefully. "They're very dry and cracked, probably because you haven't had much to drink in a while." Digging around in his waistcoat pocket, the hobbit quickly produced a clean but torn square of fabric, and she recognized it as the makeshift handkerchief that Bofur had torn for Bilbo on the first day of their journey. Balling it up in his fist, he reached up and held it onto her cracked lips.
"Just hold it there, and it should stop soon," he said as he stood up, smiling again. "I will see if I can't get some beeswax for your lips. I will be right back, I promise."
The hobbit quickly scurried out of sight, leaving the young woman alone with her thoughts. Her stomach lurched a bit at the sudden intrusion of the milk, and though the smell of bread made her mouth water a bit, she knew that she must try to take it slow to keep from throwing up again like she had at Meril's house. Having nothing to do but sit for a few minutes in hopes of making her lip stop bleeding, she began to finally take in her surroundings for the first time.
Her blue eyes wandered around the stall she was in, immediately recognizing it for what it was. Hay was strewn about on the stone floor in between the stall rows, with the stall opposite hers filled about halfway with flaxen straw. Various woven blankets in earthy tones were scattered upon the straw, though she could make out makeshift bedrolls in their pattern. It didn't take her long to realize that it was where the company slept.
Eyes moving upward, she took notice of the woven rope looped around a nail on either side of her stall. The blanket functioning as what she supposed was a curtain was drawn back for now, but she knew that it was likely there so Oin could tend her wounds without exposing her unnecessarily to the company's eyes. Eyes moving away from the blanket, her gaze landed on her improvised bed. Several woven blankets were atop her, and she could see the straw poking out from in between the tied sides of the straw tick beneath her. Cirashala's eyes widened as she realized that the company had made her a mattress, rather than lying her straight on a pile of hay on the floor, and Gloin's surprising words from the night before suddenly entered her mind.
We look after each other.
A flash of teal through the window suddenly caught the corner of her eye, and she looked outside, where she could see Kili observing Dwalin and Fili sparring. The dark haired prince was clad once more in a now obviously clean tunic and jerkin, though the bloodstains from the lynx attack had not faded completely, and her brow furrowed in confusion.
Then...what on earth am I wearing?
Glancing down, her gaze rested upon familiar navy blue woolen fabric bearing the exact same cut as Kili's.
The...exact...same...
"Cira?" Her eyes shot up at Bilbo with a slight gasp, the hobbit having managed to startle her once again. "Are you all right? You seem a bit pale."
"B-Bilbo," she began uneasily, the thought running through her mind seeming both incredibly ludicrous and completely impossible. "H-How am, I-I mean...where did..." She trailed off, her hand self-consciously rubbing the sleeve of the tunic she was wearing, knowing without a doubt whom it belonged to. The hobbit followed her shocked gaze, before looking back up at her.
"Thorin," he said simply. "Kili borrowed Dwalin's until his was clean, and Thorin let you borrow his until you woke up and could put on the one Dori made for you."
Her eyes widened considerably in shock as Bilbo gestured toward the brown tunic folded neatly on one of the barrels on the other side of her bed.
"As Gloin said last night, we look after each other," he said quietly, causing her gaze to return to his. The hobbit smiled warmly as he handed her a small crock filled with softened beeswax. "I guess they've decided you're one of us now."
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A response to guest reviewer Guest- You are welcome :) I plan to, as much as real life allows ;) To answer your question, of course there is going to be more scenes with Kili and Cirashala! But there are other scenes that are quite important to the plot that needs to happen first, so it may be a little bit before they have another one. I hope you will understand as you read the chapters why I do it this way :)
Thanks to all who review, favorite, and follow- you guys give me so much encouragement! :D :D :D