twenty one
Jon held Hartlyn close as they rode the Great Eagle through the clouds. He kept his dark eyes closed and his face buried in her fire like hair whilst the redhead gently stroked her fingers over the large hands resting on her stomach.
However, her sharp, emerald eyed gaze was on an unconscious dwarf king. She could see his fading aura and sense his life draining away from his horribly injured body. Hartlyn ignored the panicked cries from both his nephews and the rest of the company, instead of the Mistress of Death running through ideas in her mind on how to prolong his life just a little bit longer.
With her so focused on Thorin and Jon on her, neither noticed the filthy man with steel coloured eyes staring in shock at the two, but mostly at the redhead.
He couldn't believe that after so long in the dark surrounded by gross, disgusting creatures, he'd finally be breathing fresh air, but not only that... He'd be setting eyes on his best friend's daughter, his goddaughter.
The night was stolen by the dawn, it breaking over the horizon as rays of light shone on them all.
There was a large pile of rocks jutting out and up into the air amidst a small forest, which is when the Eagles began to descend, the first carefully laying the dwarf king.
Still unmoving, one by one, the Great Eagles, allowed their dwarves to disembark, as well as Gandalf and Bilbo, then Jon and Hartlyn and finally the black-haired man.
He stood beside the former Night's Watchman, apart from the others, as the Queen of the Northern Mountains slipped through the company like a shadow, her hand already in her bag and reaching for the very things that had soothed her paying and healed her days ago.
Balin seemed to notice that Hartlyn knew of a way to help his king, and he had the sense to trust her, especially after seeing the power she just showed, saving them from the orcs twice now.
The white haired dwarf swiftly but gently pushed aside the dwarves, allowing Harltyn to come close, to which she gave him a small smile.
Besides the two men and the Istari, everyone held their breath when the Mistress pulled up one side of her skirt to reveal the beautiful, bejewelled dagger strapped to her thigh and the dwarves all struggled not to react when she reached forward to cut Thorin's blood soaked tunic from his body, the rising sun glinting off the polished silver blade, now stained red.
With its removal, Hartlyn was now able to see the wounds on the tall dwarf's chest.
The redhead drifted her hand over each injury, judging which was more or less dangerous than the last and choosing which would be healed her tears and which with a wave of her hand.
After, with two more flicks of her wrist, one to clean away the blood and the other to repair his now decent tunic, Hartlyn ignores the gasps and wide eyed stares of shock and awe before looking directly into Balin's eyes,
"I am about to do something I will extremely enjoy, but also something you will not appreciate..."
The older dwarf frowned until the Queen of the Northern Mountains pulled back her arm and slapped the unconscious Thorin as hard as she could.
Balin spluttered until the tall dwarf shot up with a sharp gasp
Hartlyn smirked, before standing and made her way back to her king, the company parting for her. She didn't feel quite settled until she was back in Jon's embrace and it wasn't until then that she finally looked at the newest member of their little group.
She was wary of the familiarity she felt with this man, it was akin to the impression she felt with Galadriel, but not quite.
"Who are you? Why do I... feel like I know you?"
He smirked, a crooked curve of his lips and his eyes sparkled with hope, both awe and adoration set on his dirt covered face, "I'm Sirius, I knew your father."
Her eyes widened and Jon's embrace tightened, knowing her need for comfort.
"I never knew my father or-"
"Your mother. I know. They were killed when you were barely a year old."
"I'm sorry, but the fact you knew my father, means nothing to me, I have no idea who you are."
A flicker of hurt, "That's true, I suppose, but," his smirk returned, this time softer, almost fatherly, "You are my goddaughter."
Jon's eyes widened, but Hartlyn's face remained emotionless as she tilted her head slightly to the left like her wolf but before anything else could be said, they were interrupted;
"You!" Thorin snarled, shrugging off Kili and Dwalin, the having helped him to his feet. Despite being fully healed he was still unsteady on his feet, most likely from seeing the pale orc again.
Bilbo froze under the dwarf king's intense gaze and Hartlyn readied herself to step forward to protect the halfling, but Jon stopped her.
"What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!" Thorin growled loudly, closing in on Bilbo, making the poor hobbit start shrink in on himself, shuffling nervously on his large, hairy feet.
"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?"
Bilbo lowered his hazel eyed gaze, almost ashamed, until-
"I have never been so wrong in all my life."
The halfling was swept up into a tight hug by Thorin, practically squeezing the life out of the poor thing.
Cheers and laughter was shared all around as finally Bilbo was welcomed as an equal in the company of dwarves
"But I'm sorry I doubted you," Thorin continued his apology, stepping back from the hobbit but keeping a hand on his shoulder.
Bilbo gave a sheepish chuckle and shook his head, "No, I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero or a warrior. Not even a burglar."
Thorin peered at Hartlyn with a massive amount of respect in his eyes and nodded his head, once, unnoticed the rest of the dwarves as they chucked heartily.
All but Balin, of course. He saw everything.
The redhead dipped her head once, but with a warning in her glowing chartreuse orbs, a warning to say if he were to upset her again, to not expect any help from her.
A soothing quiet finally caught them all as they took in the sight around them and it was the dwarf king who realised something in the distance that urged Bilbo to swivel around, "Is that what I think it is?"
The halfling's whispered tone of awe made the rest of the company turn and follow Thorin as he slowly wandered to the very edge of the stone that they perched on.
A certain mountain, so far away, but so much closer than they thought, in the middle of a huge ocean of green trees, small blue mountains and even smaller brown hills.
"Erebor... The Lonely Mountain... the last of the Great Dwarf Kingdoms of Middle-Earth." Gandalf murmured in answer to Bilbo. The Istari didn't doubt Jon and Hartlyn already knew and he... had no idea who the other man was...
"Our home," Thorin's grip on Bilbo's shoulder squeezed almost painfully.
A small bird flew past them in the direction of Erebor and one of the dwarves gasped as it chirped and with excitement, "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain."
"No, Oin, darling," the young dwarf blushed bright red, "That was just a little thrush."
Thorin smiled, however, looking at Bilbo, "But we'll take it as a sign. A good omen."
Jon pursed his lips.
Bilbo then nodded, "You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us."
Hartlyn groaned.