The sun just started to rise when my eyes struggled to open. It felt as though a pile of bricks had replaced my head. My mouth was dry, with the taste of blood probing my tongue. One rough gasp escaped my lips. Then, a second, followed by the first cohesive thought since regaining consciousness:
"Thorin!"
I shot up, instantly regretting the sudden movement as my back screamed in agony.
"Ah, she's awake!" cried a familiar hobbit before engulfing me in a hug.
"Bilbo? How did we ...?"
"You blacked out while we flew here. We landed, and Gandalf helped me drag you off the eagle's back. Don't ever scare me like that again, you hear?"
I laughed. "It was not my intent to scare you, but I suppose it might happen again— Argh!"
"Ah. Oh, right, your back. Just try not to speak, or move, or ... anything."
"Water," I croaked, and quickly had a waterskin in my hand. As I drank, I propped myself on a rock and gazed around.
The dark sky slowly turned a muted, pastel blue with hints of lavender and vivid red in the wispy thin clouds. The sun burst from below the horizon and bathed the rocky mountainsides in soft white light. It was quiet, aside from the flapping of very large eagle wings overhead.
The light caught in the eagles' feathers, who circled the giant rock we sat upon. Each bird came down for a moment to drop off the dwarves either clinging to their backs or their giant talons. Their wings created a chilly updraft that lifted my hair up.
"Where are we?"
"I imagine you should recognize it," chuckled a smoky voice.
At the wizard's words, I peered over the side of the rock. A thin trail worked its way in a spiraling pattern from the top of the spire to the ground level, where it met vast green plains fanning out in all directions. The top of the spire had a tiny protrusion on each side.
"The Carrock?!" I struggled to my feet. "The eagles carried us this far?"
"You mean, you're not scared by these heights," squeaked Bilbo, trying hard not to look down.
"Not really. Not after that flying ..." My voice trailed off. "Wait. If we're here, where's—?"
"Thorin!" someone called.
The eagle just began lowering the dwarf to the rocky surface, gently, so as not to arouse any of his injuries. The other dwarves gave the bird some space to comfortably rest its passenger. Once done, it returned to the air.
The sight of an unconscious Thorin made my heart sink down into my stomach.
"Thorin!" Gandalf dashed over to his side. "Thorin!"
Even though we had argued the last time we spoke, I desperately wanted him to wake. Then, I could give him the key tucked away in my pockets before he got a chance to process its disappearance, and explain how I retrieved it undetected, and also make sure that he could still manage after his fight with Azog.
I dreaded what he thought of me at the moment after everything that just occurred.
A small part of me wondered why I cared so much, both about him and his opinion of me. I reluctantly admitted to myself that perhaps the haughty, brooding king had worked his way into my affections over the course of the journey thus far.
Gandalf tended to Thorin with the company hovering anxiously over them.
As he finally woke, his first thoughts were jumbled. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was the brief image of red flames dancing amongst brown hair and the blades of two swords, the vague sensation of bloodied, dirty hands gentle on his face, and the faint whisper of my voice.
He also remembered Mr. Baggins, how the hobbit had run at the orc about to behead him; it was an act of stupidity that had undoubtedly saved his life—but had he perished in the attempt or right after?
"The halfling ..." he whispered as his eyes focused on the wizard.
"It's alright. Bilbo is here. He's quite safe."
Thorin was aided to his feet, hurting all over, especially around his chest and ribs.
"You," he growled at the hobbit, impatiently finding his balance without the assistance of the others. "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!"
At his words, the hobbit's face fell.
"Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?!" Thorin advanced until he was face-to-face with Bilbo. After a moment, he gave a big sigh. "I've never been so wrong in all my life!" He reached out and embraced the hobbit deeply.
Looking quite surprised, Bilbo hugged the dwarf back.
The others cheered and slapped each other on the back, with Gandalf smiling.
It made me happy.
Thorin pulled away from the hug. "I am sorry I doubted you."
"No, I would have doubted me, too. I'm not a hero, or a warrior." He looked at Gandalf. "Not even a burglar."
We all laughed.
Suddenly, Thorin's eyes moved over the hobbit's shoulder and his lips parted in surprise.
Bilbo followed his gaze. "Is that what I think it is?"
There, far on the horizon, was the outline of a single, solitary mountain. It was distant, and very beautiful in the morning sunlight, standing tall and bold on the face of the landscape.
"Erebor, the Lonely Mountain," Gandalf said. "The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle-Earth."
"Our home," Thorin breathed, basking in the strange, sweet familiarity he felt at the sight of the mountain.
Then, the joyful feeling turned to ash inside him as he remembered the loss of the key, the only way inside. Everything he had ever wanted, his home, his kingdom, the life his people deserved, and the treasure of his forefathers, was now forever beyond his reach.
A bird chirped and flew past the company, heading toward the mountain.
"A raven!" Oin announced. "Birds are returning to the mountain, just as the portents foretold."
"There is little use in portents and prophecies now," Thorin said, his voice dull. "Because I lost the key."
"What?" Gandalf interjected sharply.
"Without it, there is no way into the mountain. I fear this is as far as our quest goes."
"Tell me this isn't true."
The declaration was met by the company's silence, only to be broken by my voice.
"Thorin."
He pivoted on his boots. "You. Don't think I didn't notice what you did? You were at the mercy of that orc filth. He could've very easily—"
"But he didn't. Sure, Azog put up a fight, but I survived. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. It's my job to protect you."
"What good is a protector on this quest when there's no point to the quest no longer?!"
"Are you blaming me for the loss of the key? You should've held onto it more tightly, and put up a better fight against the goblins."
"Like you? And receive several lashes for it? I'm no fool. I know when to give up."
"Giving up is not an option in my book, and if I had, I wouldn't have—"
"You wouldn't have been tortured the way you were!"
I stopped.
He kept his voice low and controlled, belaying the depths of his fury waiting to be unleashed. "Your recklessness is almost something to admire. You throw yourself in harm's way without even considering the consequences."
"I'm well aware of my dangerous tendencies. I understand that it might be troubling, but I needed to stop Azog from getting to you. And back in the goblin tunnels, too. I didn't have a choice because—"
"Of course, you did! You could've chosen to stay back and bide your time, and you could've chosen to not confront Azog. You had to be difficult instead." He turned away. "Why must you be so difficult? At least understand that I am appreciative of what you did for me ... And for us."
"No, I recognize that you're appreciative, but ... please, let me speak."
"Are you honestly trying to defend your reckless actions?! It's almost a burden to keep you with us if we constantly have to wonder if you're just going to get yourself killed. I—"
"Thorin!" My voice was now desperate for his attention, and to stop this argument before it escalated further, or before anyone could say something they didn't mean. "Please, just listen to me!"
"Just what is so important that requires me to...?!" He focused harder on me, intending to use his words to silence me once and for all, and there, outstretched in my filthy, bloody hand, was the key.
"This."
Quite possibly for the first time in his life, Thorin was shocked into silence.
The company, too, was stunned by my reveal.
I simply stared at the dwarf leader.
"You... The key... How did you...?"
"I snatched it. When they weren't paying much attention to me. After ... you know ..." I rolled my shoulders back to shake off the pains for a moment, "... after what happened."
His eyes widened upon realizing the truth. "You knew they would whip you?"
I nodded. "It was a possibility, one that would get me the chance to slip the key back into my possession."
"They could've killed you!!"
My brow lifted. "And here I thought you couldn't care less about what happened to me."
His mouth clamped shut.
"But, no matter. I believe this might make you think twice. I've looked after it for over one hundred years, after all. The goblins weren't the first who tried to steal it. So, while I'll return it, I'd advise you to please take better care of it."
Slowly, still disbelieving the evidence of his eyes, Thorin reached out and accepted the key, our fingers just brushing. He stared down at the trinket, so solid and real.
I turned my back to the edge of the great rock spire, my bloodied black in view of the others.
"You need to understand something about me. It may seem like most of my actions are done on a whim, but in reality, everything I do is carefully considered. Like jumping in to save you, or risking my life and my own skin for the key so that you all can enter the Mountain. Or agreeing to this quest.
"I knew the risks of going on an expedition like this. The land we have to cross is filled with dangers we may or may not be ready for. For Durin's sake, we'll be facing a dragon, if all goes well. I'm aware of the path ahead, and the risks of the oath I swore to protect all of you. Yet, I don't mind it. So while you may find it difficult to handle, I'll continue to be 'reckless' the entire rest of the way. Because that's what I signed up for."
After a beat, I moved past him, the hobbit, and all other startled and silent members of the company. Just before the top of the steps leading down, Gandalf stopped me.
"And where do you think you're—?"
"I'll be waiting at the bottom." I glared at the others. "That is if you want me to wait for you. If not, better object now."
Thorin lifted his gaze from the key to watch me descend the side of the rock, my lashed back getting less visible with every step. The bright sunrise highlighted my dark brown hair as it bounced off my shoulders until I eventually disappeared from view.
He clenched the key tightly in his fist, a very peculiar feeling beginning to grow in his stomach.
⛰
I descended a well-worn path with many steps leading down the Carrock's side to the river, across which a ford of huge flat stones led to the grassland beyond the stream. There was a little clearing at the foot of the steps and near the end of the stony ford where I paused.
It wasn't long before the rest of the dwarvish company joined me, plus the hobbit and old, wise wizard. Thorin's eyes captured mine for a single moment, but unlike every time before, we could no longer feel any tension in the air. Neither him nor anybody else had asked me to leave.
Good, I thought to myself. We've got that settled.
Thus, we moved to discuss our next course of action.
We knew Azog's orc pack would be hunting us down, but the distance covered by the Eagles gave us a bit of a head start. We used the opportunity to wash up, bind our wounds, and the like. Minus Gandalf and myself, everyone went to bathe in the river, which was shallow and clear and stony at the ford—and hidden from spying eyes.
When Bilbo returned from the river first, Gandalf sent him up a hill to keep an eye out for the orc pack. Meanwhile, I basked in the warm sun. The peaceful moment got destroyed by the sound of heavy boots walking amongst rocks and pebbles towards me.
"Did you want a turn in the water?" Fili asked before plopping down beside me.
His brother fell to the other side. "It's quite refreshing."
I scowled at them. "You think I don't know what you're up to. After the last bathing incident, you two are lucky I didn't kill you when I had the chance. If it wasn't for ..."
Just then, Thorin had returned to the group. His wet hair flung about as he turned this way and that to communicate to his fellow dwarves. Drops of water on his face glittered like diamonds in the morning light; his blue eyes looked stunning.
I stared for a moment too long, and flinched when I found the two brothers grinning at me.
"If it wasn't for what?" Fili said.
"It's nothing. I don't need to bathe. I'm not quite as smelly as you dwarves usually are."
"Oh, is that so? Maybe uncle would care to hear about that," Kili replied. "Hey, un—"
Slapping a hand over his mouth, I barked at him. "Cut that out! I'll go wash up if you insist, but I will stab anybody who comes near!" With an extra scowl, I popped up onto my feet and headed for the river.
By this point, the dwarves had all finished washing up. I couldn't see anybody nearby, but my better judgment told me to be cautious. "Better make this quick." My feet carried me behind a cluster of bushes where I could safely remove my clothes.
Once in the water, I first tended to the lashes on my back. The cold water met the raw, exposed skin like thousands of tiny needles. It felt soothing in a way. I enjoyed the river washing out bits and pieces of rubble, pine, and a bird feather or two from my hair. Pieces of cloth torn from my cloak and tunic helped to scrub my body; I groaned at the thought of disposing of the garments.
"Sorry for ruining these beautiful clothes," I apologized, to nobody. After briefly examining the ruined cloak, I tore it into long strips that could bandage the wounds on my back.
Once clean, I threw back on my tunic and trousers. I'd come to terms with wearing my tunic until I could find a suitable replacement, comforted to know that my back would be adequately covered until then with the makeshift bandages.
"Perhaps we'll pass by Esgaroth and I can snag something from the market."
After braiding my hair and reequipping my gear, I headed back to the others.
Upon my return, the first voice to greet me was a thick voice belonging to a dwarf hovering awkwardly with a small bag of medical herbs and his all-but-destroyed ear trumpet.
"Come on, lass. Let's see your back."
Oin sat me down on a rock and moved to examine the rips in my pale skin. He had to awkwardly ask me to remove my tunic so he could push the wraps out of the way. Meanwhile, I glanced over my shoulder to notice the company sort through the few bags salvaged during our flee from Goblin Town.
"Lass, are you feeling sick or dizzy? Perhaps a wee bit nauseous? Anything?" asked my medic.
I shook my head.
"This is no time to be stubborn, Rose."
Says a dwarf.
"No, I'm just fine, Oin. Honest."
After nodding, our medic eloquently soaked my wounds further with water, applied the few medical herbs he still possessed, adjusted the wraps into their previous positions, and cleared me to be on my way. But, he was concerned about no longer having an extra layer of clothing to protect my back.
"It'll be fine. The wraps and this tunic will do until I can find a replacement."
"Until then. Here." Balin suddenly appeared on my other side holding out his red cloak.
I stared at him like a deer about to get shot in the head. "What's this for?"
"I have quite a few layers myself, and while it's almost too long for me, I'm sure it'll be a good length for you."
"What? But, Balin, I couldn't possibly—"
"Save it." He pushed the cloak into my arms. "Call it a peace offering."
"Peace offering?"
The old dwarf gave a solemn nod. "In truth, when we first met back in the Shire, I did not have nearly as much faith in you as some of the others. Now, this journey had quickly proved me wrong since the first day, but I feel like after what just happened, how you risked your life to save our only way back to our lost home, I felt in debt for your service."
My chest felt heavy. "Balin ..."
"So, if it's alright with you, lass ..." he bowed his head. "I'm at your service."
I bowed back. "Thank you, Balin."
So, I tried on the cloak immediately, and I wasn't disappointed. It fit me better than expected. It landed just above my knees, and I all but adored the dark-red patterns running up and down the hand-stitched garment.
Balin enjoyed seeing the look on my face.
"You look pretty as a flower, lass," chirped a nearby Dwalin.
I judged the compliment to be a little uncharacteristic for him but wasn't in the mood to give it any concern. "Oh, please, give the credit to the cloak. Dwarf handiwork is the best. I never thought I'd ever get to wear something so lovely—"
"You should show Thorin."
Ah. Now I get it.
I lowered my voice to a whisper and asked, "What for exactly?"
"He can always use a little pick-me-up, especially after the day we've had." He gestured to Thorin speaking to Gandalf in hushed tones. The dwarf glanced over at me, not a single expression on his face, neither good nor bad.
Turning to Dwalin, I huffed angrily. "That's absurd."
He gave a hearty chuckle and clapped me on the shoulder, which shot ripples of pain up and down my body.
Just then, Bilbo raced down to us, in a hurry.