"This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales: Pity me that the heart is slow to learn when the swift mind beholds at every turn."- Sonnet 29, Edna St. Vincent Millay
She was walking on Beorn's grounds and exploring his vast lavish gardens. After a few days of rest, comfort and hearty food, her strength had been restored and she could now take longer walks by herself without needing the assistance of Bilbo or of anyone else and while she did miss her and Bilbo's fond conversations, or Fili and Kili's jovial talk and their fascinating and thorough description of dwarven lifestyle and customs, or perhaps Bifur's reticent yet steady company as he fatherly guided her through the clearing and along the meadow before the wooden hut of the skin-changer Beorn. She even at times missed Arien's motherly warmth and comfort during her walks as the woman would walk beside her and converse with her, yet at the same time take great concern over her health. Yet she felt immensely grateful that she was no longer dependant on anyone to take a walk or do something, she was immensely grateful for the solitude she now encountered herself in.
Perhaps that should have startled her. Because never before in her three decades on Middle Earth had she ever taken such comfort from being alone. Quite contrary, solitude had always frightened her after she had experienced it slightly during her early youth when her mother had fallen ill with grief. Ever since that experience, she had been almost greedy with companionship and the need to have someone by her side and fortunately she had found Bilbo.
She sighed sadly as she thought about her cousin. He had welcomed her in the same loving manner she had always known of him, he'd had the same brotherly concern she had grown so fond of during their friendship and he'd treated her with the same care and fondness he'd always held towards her. The same tenderness he'd held when she'd first set foot in Bag End and he'd grasped her hand and proudly shown her his map and without knowing Laurel had already loved her cousin from that moment on. From the moment he'd puffed his chest and proudly presented her with his newly-drawn map of the Shire, which had been a remarkably accurate coal-piece, she'd loved Bilbo.
Perhaps if she was not so perceptive. Perhaps if she did not know Bilbo so thoroughly she would have not recognized it. Perhaps she would not have perceived the almost ephemeral distance between them, Bilbo's distance from her and his slight heed toward her that had pained her even more than the blow she had received from Azog on the day of her escape. But she did, she realized it and while she wished that she could remain blissfully ignorant of the increasing superficiality of Bilbo's affections toward her, of the growing gap between them.
Something had happened in the Misty Mountains. Something had happened in Gollum's cave. Something Bilbo had not told her about. Something that he'd concealed to her. Something that had invoked a secrecy within him that had caused him for the first time in twenty year to not tell her something. And she rued whatever had caused this change within her friend. Though she could not judge him, she could not resent Bilbo for his change. Not when she was painfully aware of her own shift. Not when she knew that her time in Azog's dungeons had marked her and had tampered with her. Not when she realized that it was not only her cousin who had become withdrawn and apprehensive. And she resented herself for that, for the change she had gone through.
She now preferred solitude to companionship for she felt unburdened walking through Beorn's grounds lonesomely, while in the company of others, however amiable they had been, she had always felt on-guard and tense. She did at times dream and remember her time in the Orcs' dungeons and while these dreams did cause her fear, it was more resigned, less panicked and frantic because she knew that she had gotten out but that she would never forget all that occurred to her in Azog's fortress.
Laurel walked along the flower hedges, which carried a few ripe blossoms which appeared periodically and she allowed he fingers to ghost over them, as she wandered along the hedges. She felt the cold, autumn morning wind blow on her naked nape from where she had gathered her wild curls in a neat bun and in response to the cold, she drew the green shawl that Arien had borrowed her tighter around her form in an attempt to warm herself. She felt the brown skirt of her dress billow around her legs and she was thankful that she did not have to wear her adventurer clothing and that Arien had still kept some of her childhood clothing and had borrowed it to her for as long as she mended Laurel's clothes.
The garden she was walking through was beautiful and lush and dense with growth and for the first moment, as she looked at the trees which were turning from green to red and yellow gradually, she realized that autumn was approaching them and soon another year would die and be reborn. The air around her smelt of warmth and of rain and of decaying leaves and of wet earth and it soothed Laurel in the same manner that the strong, almost overwhelming scent of blossoms in summer and spring always had. She walked through the incarnation of autumn and she praised her solitude, her only company the ageing leaves. Then suddenly she arrived at a hedge that was packed, overflowing with the whitest, purest roses she had ever seen and she stopped in her track to study the white blossoms with wonder. Her fingers reached out and tenderly caressed the petals and she lowered her head to capture the demure scent emitted from the flower. She smiled sadly as she focussed on the rose, while allowing her thoughts to drift to the company.
They had all welcomed her warmly, even the dwarves which had mistreated her the most due to their discovery of her heritage and whom Laurel had never expected to treat her with a single sign of civility. Yet Dwalin had proven her wrong when at dinnertime he had put his hand on her shoulders in a warm gesture and told her that she was welcome back. She had smiled tightly at Dwalin, still unable to forget his mistreatment of her, their mistreatment of her. Yet as the days had passed and she had truly seen their remorse and then as resentful as she had been, she had been unable to not forgive them. Though grudging she had approached Balin last night and had sat beside him and the elder dwarf had smiled at her and she had bid him to tell her about dwarven feasts and he had indulged her. She forgiven them. How could she not, when they were the epitome of her childhood heroes? When she saw their loyalty and their courage so clearly? When she felt their yearning for their home? When they had earned her loyalty to such an extent that she had been willing to remain imprisoned in Azog's clutches in favour of betraying them? How could she have resented them when they welcomed her back so fondly and she had felt the warmth of their sorrow over how they had treated and when she finally realized that they recognized her beyond the hobbit and elf she was and they truly saw her.
Yet the one man that she had wanted to... to recognize had ignored her. Thorin Oakenshield had disregarded her just as he had done before her capture, just like he always had done and she realized that her absence or presence had not made any impact on him, that her capture by Azog had not phased in the slightest. That he had not cared and that while poisonous, Azog's words in that regard had been painfully accurate. She dropped her head and shook it in self-deprecation, pursing her lips. The anger she felt at Thorin Oakenshield could not compare with the outrage she felt at herself. Her resentment at herself for still caring for Thorin Oakenshield, for still feeling grieved that he did not recognize her efforts, that he did not recognize her. She felt self-deprecation at the guilt she had felt when Kili had embraced a few days ago and he'd held her for longer and tighter than what would have been appropriate for friends and all throughout the embrace she'd felt observed and she'd looked up when she'd felt the gaze burning into her skin to see Thorin looking at her and his nephew with something akin to anger in his eyes. Yet she'd somehow known that the anger not directed at her specifically, somehow and that had caused guilt within her and she'd hate that. She felt self-hatred course through her at her weakness, at still caring for Thorin's regard, even when she had been determined to forget, when she had decided to forget him because she was loathe to allow herself to suffer over him and his indifference. She had been determined to forget Thorin and her damnable feelings toward him because she did not wish to suffer, because it hurt to love him. And even though she was angry, she still hurt.
Yet there had not been enough time to think about Thorin for she had focused on her recovery and on the kindness that was shown towards her. She had grown fond of Beorn, her gratitude for his saving of her had extended to sincere and honest gratitude. His gruff manners and solemn nature endeared him to her and he had been more than courteous toward her. She remembered when he had asked her how she had escaped from Azog's fortress:
"Little hobbit, will you ever regal us with the tale of how you escaped from that Orc's fortress." Beorn asked her. It was dinner and Beorn, Arien, Gandalf, the company and her were sat around the table enjoying a meal of bread and honey served by Beorn's animal servants. She had looked up from her conversation with Fili, as both brothers had insisted that they sat beside her closely and she had blinked up at him, startled by his question. She could see that Arien was opening her mouth to reprimand Beorn for the blunt question. Yet before her friend could say anything, Laurel answered: "He asked me for my loyalty in exchange of my freedom." In response, all around her had tensed and some of the members of the company had a look of unease etched on their faces, unable to muster fully fledged suspicion toward the sweet girl yet unable to fully let off their wariness where Azog was concerned.
Balin's raspy voice cut through the thick silence and he asked: "What did you say?" She looked down momentarily and then raised her gaze toward the Scribe who was sat beside the reticent leader who was mustering her with a curious yet worried expression. She smiled at them and raised her brow and she stated: "I said yes." All the while she had been studying Thorin and had seen that in response to her words, his eyes had widened and he had looked at her in disbelief. Unable to hide her mirth at his reaction, she had looked away and scoffed lowly amusedly. She had heard the assembleds' nervous chuckling and then had felt Fili nudge her shoulder with his and then request: "Come Rel, tell us the real story." She had looked up at him and shaken her head but the she had acquiesced and stated: "It is not an overly complex story really. My guard had a what would prove to be detrimental appetite for elvish flesh." She had seen Fili's eyes widen and glint angrily and had felt both brothers stiffen beside her as they sat so closely to her. "He feasted on my cell mate during the duration of my stay in his dungeons. Yet Azog prohibited from laying a finger on me. Orcs are incredibly proud creatures and I attacked his pride by calling him an abomination for following the orders of anyone instead of getting what he wanted. I goaded him and he did not take my offence lightly. He came into my cell and packed me and I stabbed my him in his eye with a hairpin from my braid. He was so focused in his pain that he offered me a chance to escape."
She had looked down after ending her tale, but had been able to glimpse the impressed and affectionate look in the brothers' eyes and that had caused her to turn grave, because even if she had wanted to she could no longer remain blind to Kili and Fili's blatant affection toward her. She had shuffled her shoulders in discomfort and then Bofur had started to praise her and a great clamour from the dwarves had been roused, as they discussed her tale and her courage and she had heard Beorn's voice state to her cousin in mirth: "Your cousin is a delight, little bunny." She had laughed indulgently at Beorn's nickname for Bilbo, perhaps the first time since her capture that she had laughed so carelessly and for the rest of the evening Fili, Kili and her had teased Bilbo for his nickname.
Beorn and Arien had shown such kindness toward her. They had offered her to stay in his halls until Bilbo returned from reclaiming Erebor, figuring that neither Bilbo nor Laurel would have wanted to once more endanger her life by her continuing on this quest. She was uncertain. Rationally, she knew that she should not go on the quest. Especially now that she had the certainty that they would re encounter Azog and that he would wish to extract revenge upon her for her escape. The possibility terrified her. The possibility of once more being captured by Azog caused shivers of dread to race down her spine. Yet despite her anger at Thorin, despite the growing resentment and contempt and bitterness she felt toward the dwarven king, she still felt... regard and loyalty and affection and these sentiments were stronger than any hatred toward him that could grow within her.
She was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of someone approaching her and she looked up from the blossom she was tenderly caressing to see Thorin Oakenshield moving toward her with his usual proud and majestic posture. Yet when her eyes rested upon him, he stopped a few paces between them and crossed his arms behind his back and straightened his spine. Silence enveloped them and all she could hear was the sound of Beorn's bees flying through the air and the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. For a few seconds they simply studied each other in warm silence. She took him in. Thorin looked just as aloof and callous as he had always appeared, ever since the night she had first met him. Yet when she looked into his eyes... She did not know how to interpret the emotion in his eyes. They were not the stormy, steely grey-blue that she had become so used to. They were softer, kinder. She looked away and felt anger directed at herself. Anger at the hope in her chest, anger at the sensation of happiness and joy that had packed her to have seen him. With her lips pursed and her nose scrunched in dissatisfaction, she looked back towards her rose and ignored Thorin's presence.
She heard him clear his throat, yet she did not look up and then he declared in a low voice: "I am glad to see you are well, Laurel." She nodded her head in response to his words but didn't see them as genuine and she felt her anger at him increase at what she perceived was his false sympathy. He had disregarded her in the past days, he had left her to Azog, he had abandoned her. He had no care for her well-being, as much as it pained her to admit it. She heard him emit a low, wistful sigh in response to her stubborn silence.
He stepped closer to her and only stopped when she could feel his warmth against her side and she ducked her head as she felt blood rise to her cheek and her breathing increase. She cursed herself. She still wanted him. Despite his callousness and his cruelty towards her: Damn him, she still wanted him. She heard his steady, quick breathing beside her and she tensed in anticipation, as he whispered in a soft voice that contrasted so great with the usual steel of his tone: "I don't believe I ever thanked you for all you did for me, for saving..." She caught herself from the haze of yearning that had packed her and she straightened and before he could finish what he wanted to say, she cut him off coldly: "There is no need for you to do so. I would have done what I did for any dwarf, for any man."
He stiffened in response to her words and despite not meeting his eyes she could feel his eye studying every inch of her face and searching her face for any sign that would disconfirm her story. After a few seconds of silence, he whispered: "Any dwarf?" and she could hear the disappointment that laced his words and it caused her breath to catch and she closed her eyes as she felt her heart quicken. She was tempted to look up at him for the emotion in his voice had sounded so real, so genuine. But she reminded herself of his heartlessness, reminded herself that he had left her. She refrained from looking at him and continue studying her rose.
She perceived him catching himself, composing himself and in a formal tone, the same unaffected and indifferent tone she so loathed: "I don't believe you understand, Ms. Took. I have misjudged you..." She cut him off once more, now with anger coursing through her at his renewed tact and at the thought of what he'd made her suffer through and she spat bitterly: "No, you assumed I was an and an elf I am, Master Oakenshield."
She heard him sigh with exasperation and he stated lowly, almost to himself: "Must you make matter so difficult?"
She bristled with indignation at his words and his exasperation. Her nostrils flared as she turned towards him and with fire in her eyes, she hissed: "Why would I make anything easy for you after the torment you permitted me to go through." She was blind in her rage. She was unseeing of anything, as her eyes sparked with fiery rage and it consumed her completely. All the pain she had gone through consumed her so completely that she did not see Thorin's handsome, yet weathered face contort with agonized guilt and concern and she did not hear his tortured tone of voice, as he stated: "I wish to apologize for that."
"Do not, for it shall be in vain. I shall not forgive you." She looked up at him tigerishly and then she hissed in a low, hate filled voice, pouring all the pain all the torment she had felt, he had caused into her speech: "I could have forgiven you for your prejudice and mistreatment of both me and Bilbo had I for one second thought you genuine." He interrupted her and stated through gritted teeth: "I am." She simply scoffed in mocking, cruel derision and did not allow herself to be deterred: "I might have been able to forgive you your arrogance, your conceit, your..." she rang with her words and inhaled deeply in a fruitless attempt to calm herself. "Your selfish disregard for anyone's feelings and pain but your own. I might have been able to forget that it was these characteristics that made me dislike you from the first. But I can't forgive your callousness, your heartlessness. I can't forget that not even a day had passed when I had decided that you were most unendurable man I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting."
Her eyes widened as she perceived her cruel words and for a moment she blinked her eyes in shock at her hostility and viciousness. She had not known where her words had come from, she had simply said them. Before she had stopped herself and thought about her words, she had stated them consumed by her rage and her bitterness towards him. She now regretted her malicious words, yet she was too proud to retract, too stubborn.
She started when she saw a flash of hurt cross Thorin's eyes at her words as he looked down at her incredulously, yet the sensation was so quickly gone that she thought she had only imagined it. She looked down and shook her head, renewed indignation at Thorin's indifference toward her and his ability to make her feel all but indifference toward him.
She turned around with the firm intent of departing when she heard his voice as he stated through gritted teeth: "So that is your opinion of me." She kept her back towards him as she felt him step closer to her and eliminate the distance that she had put between them. She felt his breath on the nape of her neck and felt his eyes burning into her and she stated lowly: "It is all you have given me. I am not an insipid child, Thorin, who doesn't see the reality before them and reveres false idols." She heard him exhale shakily in response to her words and she could not tell if her body had started to tremble during the confrontation, or if it was him shaking, him who was standing so close to her that she could his every being.
"I have duties, responsibilities. My people..." She tipped her head back and cried out in frustration, she turned toward him and stated heatedly: "Your people, your people. It's always about your people." She shook her head as she met his bare steel eyes and asked with vulnerability: "What about you, Thorin? What about you? Have you ever done anything for yourself? Have you ever lived for yourself? Or is all you do for your people, for your grandfather and father?" His lips parted as he looked down at her and for a long moment they simply stood studying each other. She only broke the gaze when she perceived that he would not answer her and with a humourless bitter smirk she stated: "But I forget, you despise elves. Azog probably did you a service by capturing me and ridding your company off me." She was about to turn on her heel when she felt his hand on her shoulder and his grip was just shy of painful as he lowered his head to hers and spat: "You clueless girl. You know not the torment I am... was under because of you. You know nothing."
Her nostrils flared and with narrowed eyes she hissed: "Was it the same torment you felt when you passively allowed me to be tortured by the Great Goblin? Was it the same torment you felt when you decided that you must move on and leave me to Azog's mercy?" She scoffed in derision and stated sarcastically: "Or perhaps it rivalled the obvious joy you felt at my return?" His grip tightened on her shoulders. Slowly his eyes transitioned from angered to incredulous and then to frantic and then he stated in despair and helplessness: "What did you expect me to do? I shouldn't... I can't... You know I can't." The fiery indignation she felt was extinguished by his words and her shoulders slackened in his grip. She looked up at him and her heart constricted.
For the first time she truly saw him and what he felt. She truly saw his pain and it broke her heart, because she hated it. She hated him and his enraging sense of responsibility. She couldn't help herself and let out a broken sob.
She heard him sigh tiredly, longingly and he moved closer towards her. Yet before he could any more and destroy her further, she shook his hands off her and shook her head vigorously.
"Whatever you feel won't be your dirty little secret. I won't be your dirty little secret, Thorin." She stated with absolute conviction without looking at him, lest she resign herself. She turned on her heel and departed without looking back at Thorin.