05 | MERIDA'S PLEDGE
"We'll camp here for the night. Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them." Thorin says pointedly, knowing his nephews a little too well. They are likely to lose all sixteen ponies by accident, somehow.
"A farmer and his family used to live here," Gandalf looks around, examining the old, musty home. The walls are half torn down, and the place itself is exuding dark energy. Every elvish muscle in my body is repelled by it, but I'm human enough that I can ignore it.
"Used to?" I hiss, horrified at the insinuation.
We exchange looks, and I know what he feels, or suspects. Something is wrong here.
"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley." Gandalf speaks to Thorin now, who looks no happier.
I sigh, strolling away from them to find a place to sleep. This is a worthless conversation. "There's no point in this, he'll never."
They both ignore me, as Gandalf looks increasingly annoyed as he begins to explain the benefits of Rivendell. Personally I agree with Gandalf, the elves could help. Surely not all the elves can be that bad? Also, Rivendell should be beautiful. All the rumours in books about it call it one of the finest elven kingdoms. The Valley of Imladris would be a dream come true, to see the elves, and train with them. But Thorin would never agree to it, not even while Gandalf advises it.
"I did not know that they were yours to keep." Thorin snaps again, angry, as Gandalf argues with him.
Gandalf doesn't deign to answer, instead turning around to storm out of the company. "Where are you going?" I race after him, grabbing his arm as he tries to pull away, heading towards the forest. He can't leave me here!
"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense."
"Yes, me!" I agree, nodding vigourously. "You can't leave me here! What if we need you? I don't like this, something feels wrong."
Gandalf leans forward to whisper in my ear, and I catch Bilbo's eyes on us, evaluating. He seems overly suspicious of me, which could be because I stole a few things from Bag End. However, I know he appreciates that I'm not a dwarf, and so may even be slightly concerned for me, as I hang onto Gandalf's arm like a lost pet. "If you need anything, remember the jewels I gave you."
With that, he's gone.
I do remember the jewels, in fact. Mundane things, hardly worth the care they're wrapped in, the two cloudy white jewels are unusually light, and don't seem at all useful. They don't glow with anything special, they're dill, and a waste of space. Gandalf claims they will summon him, but wouldn't explain how, or why, or anything. Normal wizard business.
"Is he coming back?" Bilbo asks me, worried.
"Of course," I assure him, unsure.
It's late, when Bombur finally finished making soup. Say what you want about dwarf cooking, but it's far better than anything I could do. Usually all I eat is bread, which explains why I have no muscle. At this point, Gandalf has been gone half the night, and the sun has been down for hours. I just wish to sleep, fall into the peaceful slumber of my dreams and stay there for a few hours. My blanket feels so warm and inviting, and my bedding looks softer than usual. My legs are aching, tired from walking and riding for hours. Sadly, I suppose nothing ever goes as planned.
Kiki rushes into our home (well, not quite ours, but where we're staying), screaming "Thorin!" as if his life depends on it.
The man in question looks up, casting a questionable glance at his mischievous nephew. "What is it?"
Kiki looks oddly sheepish, shifting on his feet. "Well, uh, you see,-" He sees all our eyes watching him, incredulous. "Some trolls stole our ponies," he blurts out, blushing. He inhales, preparing himself for am onslaught of abuse. "So we sent Bilbo to steal them back."
"What?"
"What?"
Thorin and I yell at the same time, the former angry and the latter incredulous.
"You sent Bilbo, to steal back the ponies?" I hiss, horrified. He'll get himself killed! What were they thinking?
"How could you let this happen?" Thorin glares, furiously.
"He'll be killed!" I yell slightly, becoming angrier. The other dwarves watch, deciding not to interrupt.
"We cannot ride without ponies!" Thorin exclaims again.
"Forget about the bloody ponies, we have to help Bilbo!" I snap, directing my anger at Thorin again. Does he have no empathy for the hobbit?
Kiki looks between us both, wincing, before gesturing vaguely behind him. "So, we should...help him?"
"Obviously!" I snap, reaching for my knife.
The dwarves and I run towards the trolls, clutching our weapons. They utter a battle cry in ancieng dwarvish (I assume) and I let out a little whimper in fear, as I see the trolls.
They are giant, and their faces are grotesque and cruel. Their skin is dull grey, but looks as if it is made out of mud and stone, but still fleshy. And they smell, like a sewer or marsh.
I'm going to die here, I know it. Yes, I can defend myself, but I'm not the greatest when it comes to an open fight. I have some basic self defense knowledge against humans and a knife that I stole from a merchant. Not likely to do much damage against a troll.
We duck behind bushes as the dwarves discreetly surround the clearing, weapons ready as we watch the scene in front of us.
The trolls are dangling Bilbo upside down in the air, as he wriggles pathetically, squirming. "Come here, you little... Gotcha! Are there any more of you little fellas 'iding where you shouldn't?"
"Nope," Bilbo squeaks, lying through his teeth. I can't help but be impressed with his nerve. He truly is loyal, which is more than I can say for myself. I'm already debating abandoning the company and running to my horses.
"He's lying."
"No, I'm not."
"Hold his toes over the fire. Make him squeal."
At this, I turn to hit Kili in the arm. "Do something!" I may be a little hypocritical, to consider running away, only to ask Kili to jump in, but I can accept that. Besides, this is Kili's fault. I can blame him without feeling too guilty.
He gives me a pointed look, but moves out of the bush, cutting the troll in the leg. The troll howls, falling over, knocking over a pile of branches near it. "Drop him!" Kili orders, brandishing his sword.
"What?"
"I said, drop him."
At this, the other dwarves run out of the bushes, shouting their battle cries again, but louder. I join them, whimpering a little louder too.
Honestly, I don't feel like my little hunting knife would do much against the massive trolls, so instead I run towards the pile of branches the troll knocked over, grabbing a branch from the edge. They are massive sticks, but I break off a piece large enough but light enough for me to drag it, before waiting for the troll to come to me. I prop it up, and step away.
It walks toward me, not even spotting me, as it chases after the dwarves running away from it in a rush. As it does, I position the stick so that as it steps down, it steps into the stick. Luckily, instead of the branch just snapping, it digs into the trolls skin, like a large splinter. The troll roars in anger, kicking out, and I'm suddenly flung across the clearing, flying through the air like an eagle. At least, until I hit the ground.
A large bush breaks my fall, knocking the air out of my lungs. I haven't broken anything, but I'm bruised and covered in small cutted from the twigs. My hair has come loose, and now hangs over my shoulder limply, all volume gone. Before I can get back up (either to run away or rejoin the fight) the fight is over. The trolls have Bilbo in the air, ready to tear him in half, as he squirms again.
"Lay down your arms, or we'll rip his off."
For a moment, I worry that Thorin might let them, but thankfully he doesn't, throwing his sword on the ground in frustration with a sigh. The dwarves follow suit, defeated.
At this, I turn to run, choosing myself. They're dead anyway, nothing I do could help them. Rushing through the trees and bushes I reach the last of our ponies, and my own horse. Touching her mane, I ready myself to set off.
It's a shame. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed someone's company as much as I do the dwarves, but I don't know what I can do to help them.
But then i remember Pallando and Alatar, and how they helped me. They gave me a chance when nobody else did, and saved my life. Perhaps it's time to repay that debt. But how? Then I remember, Pallando and Alatar were Istari. So is Gandalf- he could help.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the gem Gandalf gave me, as it feels unusually light and weightless in my hand. "Gandalf," I whisper, holding it to my lips, as if to kiss it.
Nothing happens.
"Gandalf!" I tell the stone again, shaking it. I scream at the stone. I glare at the stone. I spin the stone. I even try to feed the stone to the horse, until it moans in pain, having hurt its tooth.
Nothing happens.
Finally, frustrated and at a loss, I toss the stone up high in the air, meaning to catch it. By some stroke of luck the wind catches it, and it flies out of my reach, falling to the ground and shattering into pieces. "Oh, shit." I mutter, scrambling with the pieces, as they dissolve, seemingly disappearing into the ground. "Please don't break!" It's futile, but now I have no plan, as I glare at the ground, annoyed.
It takes minutes for Gandalf to find me, his staff tapping the ground as he gives me an approving glance. "You worked out how to use it." He murmurs in surprise. "I have to admit, I wasn't sure that you could, or would."
I grin at him pleasantly, relieved beyond measure. "Oh, it was no problem." It's fun, isn't it, lying through your teeth?
He looks confused as he looks around, noting the absence of dwarf. It's almost a breath of fresh air, if they weren't all kidnapped, about to be eaten. "Where are the others?"
"Captured by trolls," I say, nodding conspiratorially. I feel I should hurry Gandalf up a little, in case the trolls have eaten the dwarves already, though, I wouldn't be complaining if they accidentally killed Thorin. Perhaps I should stall.
"Trolls?" Gandalf chuckles, rolling his eyes at my "lie". "There are no trolls here."
"Tell that to the trolls!" I point at the clearing with the trolls, deciding that I don't want the dwarves to die. I need to get paid for this.
He sighs, resigned to his fate as a dwarf-rescuer, before making his way there, probably already having a plan. Wizards like him always do, I've noticed. "How are we going to kill them?" I whisper, curious.
Gandalf sends me a cunning smile, a glimpse of his ancient, deadly power shinning through. It's easy to forget how old he is, even through his disguise as an old man, but he's an Istari. I should probably be more scared of him. "Wait and see."
"Are you serious?" I hiss, but he's already running away. "You can't just- Gandalf!"
Gandalf rushes off into the trees, disappearing, as I turn to watch, shocked, as Bilbo tries to convince the trolls that he has parasites. It's a struggle not to laugh, in all honesty. The dwarves are naturally embarrassing , as I try not to grin at how roughed up Thorin seems.
Suddenly Gandalf appears next to a large boulder. Splitting it in half with his staff, sunlight floods the trolls and the clearing and they turn to stone. I clap, impressed. It's a resourceful way of killing them, and smart too. Low effort. I should learn from him. Its good to know cleverer ways to beat things, instead of brute force all the time.
By morning, we have untied the dwarves from their spits and have searched the caves beside them. The troll hoard is beautiful, full of riches and I decide that this is the best place to find any weapons. My hunting knife serves me well, but is not so helpful in a fight as I might hope for.
There's some pretty jewelry there, like a ruby necklace that glows in the sun, and an earring that shines even brighter, but they are all much too heavy, and cumbersome, so instead I only grab a small ring, engraved with strange rune-marks.
It's silver, with tiny pearls dotting the outside and a larger, blue gem in the centre. It fits on my middle finger remarkably well, not too big nor too small, especially as I also wear a small leaf ring, not worth much, and my locket around my neck, containing a picture of my mother.
Thorin nods to me, appreciating the craftsmanship of the ring as he gestures, finding elven weapons. His own blade is large and almost as tall as Bilbo, and the sword he gives to Gandalf is just as beautiful. They like deadly, and expensive. "Wow," I breathe, awed by the craftsmanship of the blade.
Thorin smiles slightly, handing me a set of throwing knives, and a sword. The knives aren't elven made, but they are good quality and light to my hand, and I feel comfortable with them. "I don't know how to use these," I whisper to him, embarrassed.
He sends me a knowing look, patting my shoulder comfortingly. He's grown closer to me since our heart to heart, but is still frustratingly stubborn and pig-headed. However, he respects me now, and I him, and everyday we become a little closer. He seems to enjoy my company, perhaps glad to talk to someone other than his kin, and I find him refreshing.
Though, times like these, it's easy to remember how old he is, his dwarven line aging slower than most. "Learn, then." He makes it sound so simple, that I nod, obeying him.
I truly would love to learn the art of throwing knives, so I tuck the few knifes into the most inconspicuous places I can think of- my boots, my cloak, one around my hip. I hang my sword on my belt, and suddenly I feel so much more powerful, like I can take on anything.
"Something's coming!" Thorin yells, and just like that, my newfound power drifts away, as my dear returns. Rushing towards him, I grab Bilbo, pulling him with me. Whether he shields me, or I him, is yet to be decided.
"Stay together! Hurry now, arm yourselves." Gandalf orders, so I drop Bilbo's arm as he follows me into the forest, and I draw my sword. It's oddly light, and the blade feels so right in my hand. I know it's my elf blood, naturally drawn to fancy weaponry.
We wait in the forest, our weapons drawn in anticipation. Oin and Gloin study the plants around us, fascinated before a man, dressed in animal skins stops short in front of us, on a sled pulledd by rabbits. I've never seen him before, but he has to be the oddest thing I've ever seen. Why would you choose rabbits to pull your sled?
"Radagast! Radagast the Brown. Ah. What on earth are you doing here?" Gandalf asks, greeting him warmly. This is Radagast? I had always imagined the other wizards to be more like - well, more like Gandalf or Alatar and Pallando. Old, powerful, a little too clever, certainly not absent-minded and odd.
"I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong." Radagast sounds desperate, and I begin to feel a little worried. So many things have felt wrong on this quest already. The trolls, the bad feelings, and Gandalf has been acting a little strangely. What's happening?
"Yes?" Gandalf asks, looking interested, and wary. I can't read his face, admit seems forcedly blank.
"Oh, just give me a minute. Um, oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it. It was, it was right there, on the tip of my tongue." He's already forgotten what he was going to say, and I relax. Surely this wizard is no threat? "Oh, it's not a thought at all; it's a silly old..." Gandalf reaches into Radagast's mouth, pulling out a stick insect. "Stick insect!"
Bilbo looks disgusted, and rightly so. A stick insect in his mouth? Gandalf takes Radagast aside to speak with him. I turn to Thorin. "Something's wrong."
He looks curious, but he doesn't dismiss me, as he might've a few days ago. "What do you mean?" His voice is low, and sharp, as if he feels a dark sense too.
"I mean," I whisper, holding my sword a little closer to my body. "That something isn't right."
He gives me a dull look, disbelieving. "I believe what I can see," he tells me, shortly. "We cannot be discouraged by petty things such as feelings."
Before I can argue my case, I'm hit with a sudden wave of nausea, as I stumble backwards into Bilbo, my head pounding, like a thousand bees are trapped inside, trying to escape. "Are you alright?" He asks, and I gasp, for the nausea is gone as quickly as it came. My head feels strangely clear, and my eyes seem to see the world clearer than befire. I still feel that something is wrong however, so I turn to Bilbo.
"Something isn't right!"
And, just like magic, a threatening howl is heard, and I nearly drop my sword in fright.
"Was that a wolf? Are there--are there wolves out there?" Bilbo asks, ever innocent. He backs up, toward the centre of the group.
"No," I mutter, terrified, remembering the unique warg cries I've heard before. I hold my sword even tighter, and raise it, ready to defend myself. "That most definitely was not a wolf."
From a crag nearby, a warg appears, it's teeth snarling as it lunges at Ori. I pull him backwards harshly, out of the way just in time for Thorin to kill the warg with his sword, slashing it's neck. Another warg appears, but Kili shoots it so fast I can barely blink, hitting the eye.
"Warg-Scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind." Thorin announces, and I shiver, terrified. I can feel a strange sense of deja vu, now.
"Orc pack?" Bilbo asks, disbelieving. He has never seen the orcs, never seen the damage they cause, so he isn't as afraid as me, but he still seems frightened. He isn't half as scared as he should be, though.
"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf strides in, looking panicked. His staff glows a little brighter, as if he is drawing his power, ready to strike.
"No one." Thorin replies, equally suspicious.
"Who did you tell?"
"No one, I swear."
Gandalf inhales sharply, turning to watch the forest as if he will spot a way out. "You are being hunted."
"We have to get out of here," Dwalin says, obviously. I bite my tongue, now is not the time to insult him.
"How?"
"The ponies, they've booted."
"I'll draw them off." Radagast declares, remarkably bravely. Perhaps I misjudged him, he's braver than I thought, and more selfless. Maybe his power is more different the power I've seen before.
"Terrific," I agree, nodding as sheath my sword again, tightening my belt and adjusting my pants, ready to run. "I do agree with this plan."
"These are Gundabad Wargs; they will outrun you." Gandalf warns, as Radagast ignores him. He seems to care about Radagast, which is sweet, but not helpful.
"These are Rhosgobel Rabbits; I'd like to see them try."
a/n: editing is the most tedious job ever, can't lie. so, i did not edit this one. oops.