The Farm Girl

Nine

After days of trekking with the dwarves and hobbit over the hills of Arnor towards the Misty Mountains, Belireis feels as if she is coming to know this company well. Their idiosyncrasies are charming in their own way, each a unique character that brings something to the quest for Erebor.

This is why when she wakes up from a vision of the future late in the night, it is more devastating than the images of Erebor she has seen before.

The details of the vision fade as soon as she wakes, gasping for breath, parched throat scraped raw with wordless screams. The feelings are so immense that she cannot name them. She is left with a vague sense of doom and shattered hopes, body sore from an imagined battle, eyes sore from things she wishes she had not seen. She disentangles herself from her blankets with a fevered haste, gasping and cursing, an angry desperation sweeping through her. She tries to be quiet, not wanting to wake the dwarves.

She fears not their judgement, but their questions. She woke up on one of the first nights of their journey out of breath, that time from memories. Most of the dwarves had looked at her with pity and worry, not knowing what had happened to her family. But Bilbo's kind eyes had been on her, hurting her with his innocence and gentleness. Thorin's eyes had weighed her, as they have every day of this long hike through the foothills, trying to see what Gandalf had found in a little farm girl. His knowledge of her family's demise was in his eyes, but also a question, wondering if she had seen the future and what that meant for his company. She can already tell he is measuring her, trying to understand how much he can control and how much he can ask her about the future, his eyes furtive bright with a hungry desire for knowledge. She let Thorin reveal her power to the company after that day, hiding her face from their reactions. Some were awed, some were wary and some looked at her in a new way she is not entirely comfortable with.

So when she wakes up tonight, she tries not to disturb anyone. She quietly gets up from her sleep roll and wraps her cloak around her body, shivering in the cold air. Now that they are ascending towards the Misty Mountains, the altitude makes the breath in her lungs rasp with a combination of chill and breathiness. She has to force herself to take slow calming breaths, the thinner air making her feel more panicked than she normally would be after a vision.

"Trouble sleeping?" a rumbling brogue comes from her right and Belireis jumps slightly. She turns to see Dwalin sitting a short way away on a rock overlooking the company. She swallows a dry bubble of air in her mouth, trying not to show him how unnerved she is by his scrutiny. Dwalin is heavily muscled and Thorin's most watchful protector and Belireis has sensed his reticence to bring her on this quest. She can tell he is suspicious of her, having see her have her vision after Thorin first gifted her with the sickle blades from the trollhoard. Dwalin's eyes have assessed her as they have climbed through the lowlands, his dark irises cataloguing her fortitude as they move over the golden fields towards the grey spectres of the mountains.

She doesn't respond to his question, unsure what words will set his mind at ease. She pulls her cloak around her cold shoulders in a defensive gesture. Dwalin decides to take pity on her and stands, striding over to her. Despite being a dwarf, they are roughly the same height and he stands at her shoulder. He looks at her, her lips trembling with unease at his close proximity. "I know," he tells her quietly.

There are many things he may know, but since he heard her own sad history from her own lips, there can only be one thing the dwarrow can be referring too. Bel's eyes give away her surprise and Dwalin favors her with a small smile. "Thorin told me," Dwalin confides in her. Slowly, she nods, swallowing again, the knots in her shoulders beginning to relax a bit. "I asked him after you had the vision in the lowlands."

"You think I will cause him ill fortune," Belireis says, her voice questioning.

Dwalin shakes his head. "No, lass," he says and the diminutive causes her to smile just a bit with her eyes. He sighs, suddenly a world-weary dwarf instead of a dwarrow warrior from the plains of Azanulbizar. "This quest will be full of dangers," he tells her, both of them looking to the mountains ahead, the moonlight creating icy shadows. "I hope, perhaps, you can help us avoid some of them."