The Shadow Walker

18. Apparently I Have a Conscience.

Late that afternoon, I paced in my room. I was wearing my new outfit, and though it fit perfectly, I couldn't relax. My thoughts kept drifting back to Bilbo, to our last conversation and what he said. Eru blast it all, I felt...guilty. I didn't like it, not in the least.

I sat down on my bed and pulled my knife from my sleeve easily, marveling at the perfect design of the sleeve to allow such access. Then I admired the knife itself, as I'd done many times before. It was only a hunting knife, but it had saved my life multiple times. Its blade held a razor-sharp edge longer than any other knife I've crossed, and its handle fit my small hand as though it had been tailor-made.

I sighed and closed my eyes. I was trying to distract myself. And it was working...but was that what I wanted? Did I want to ignore my...my...

"Conscience," I whispered.

It had been years since I'd thought I even had one. A decade or more since I'd felt its sting. And though it hurt, somehow, it felt good. It felt good to know I wasn't as heartless as I'd thought.

And you know what? I was going to apologize. Now, before I lost the courage and rationalized my way out of it. I slipped my knife up my sleeve, stood, and walked out the door. As I moved down the walkway, I pulled my hood up, concealing my hair and the top of my face. There's something about wearing a hood that made me feel awesome.

Now, there was the slight matter of finding Bilbo. Rivendell is too big to search room-by-room. However, I decided that Elrond probably had him staying in one of the open sunrooms close to the top of the waterfall. So, finding my shadows, I began to climb.

The sun was beginning to set when I reached the sunroom level. Most of the rooms had drawn heavy curtains across the open walls for privacy, and I sighed. I was probably too late. It wouldn't surprise me if Bilbo was the early-to-bed type.

Maybe it's for the best, my inner coward said. After all, he's angry at you. Rightfully so.

Maybe, I reluctantly agreed. I sighed and sat down on an ornate wrought-iron bench and stared at the waterfall. The bleeding light of sunset lit up the droplets as they cascaded for what seemed like miles, down into the river below.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" came a voice to my left. I startled a bit, not expecting Bilbo to appear, standing at my elbow. I bit my lip and looked up at him, searching his expression for anger but finding none. Still...

"I, umm..." I faced the waterfall again, fidgeting. "I came up here to apologize. To you. For...you know. Lying. I had my reasons-" I glanced at him, "-but I am sorry."

"Eda," he said, his voice pained. Then he gave a sharp sigh. "Or should I call you Amariel?"

I winced. "Please, call me Eda." At his wary look, I said, "I have two names, and Amariel is one of them. But I prefer Eda."

A moment passed, then he demanded, "Why do you have an Elvish name?"

His tone was less than gentle, and tears poked at my eyes. "Please," I murmured. "I have my reasons for hiding things. Just..." A tear slipped out, and I whispered, "Don't hate me."

Bilbo let out a long sigh and seated himself beside me. He hesitantly placed a hand on my shoulder, then put his arm around me. "Oh, lass. I could never hate you. You're far too brave for that." His embrace tightened for a moment.

"Brave?" I gave a tearful snort and wiped away the moisture spilling over my cheeks.

"I mean it," Bilbo said, pulling his arm back and patting my knee. "You sacrificed yourself for me. You saved my life."

I shrugged. "You saved mine. If you hadn't sent those Elves back, I would've been killed."

"Consider us even, then," Bilbo replied. Turning to face me, he said, "Will you tell me the truth? The entire truth?"

"I can't do that," I answered, my eyes filling with tears again. "But, I can promise not to lie anymore." To you, I added mentally.

I swear, Bilbo heard my inner voice. The creases between his silver eyebrows deepened, and he looked away.

"Please," I said, laying my hand on top of his. "I never met my father...and I've never really had a friend. I-" my voice cracked, and fresh tears spilled over. "I didn't realize that's what you were, until..." I had to stop, struggling to keep from breaking down. Tears streamed down my face, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Gentle fingertips wiped away the moisture as it fell. I swallowed back the massive lump in my throat and opened my eyes once more. "Diheno nin, mellon nin," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if the Hobbit would understand.

Bilbo's face softened, and all doubt that he understood was erased. "I forgive you, lass." More tears fell, embarrassingly, but this time from gratefulness and joy. Bilbo sighed, opening his arms to me. "Come here."

So I hugged the Hobbit, resting my head on his shoulder and wondering if this was what it was like to have a father.