Mahal's Blessing

Chapter 5: The Traveler

The journey towards the Blue Mountains was fraught with relentless rain, the heavens seemingly unwilling to grant Razia a reprieve. The constant downpour had persisted for a week, turning the once dusty paths into muddy trails. Undeterred, Razia pressed on, her determination unwavering as she sought answers about the shifting dynamics of the world she now traversed.

Nearing the abandoned kingdom of Annúminas, Razia grappled with conflicting emotions. The allure of shelter within the ancient city clashed with the ever-present threat of roaming Orc packs searching for the long-lost palantir, rumored to be hidden within the city's dilapidated walls for hundreds of years.

The soft whinny of her pony, Raju, signaled their proximity to the outskirts of Annúminas. The pony grew visibly nervous, sensing the potential dangers that lurked in the shadows of the once-grand kingdom. Razia guided Raju to a concealed clearing with natural rock cover, strategically hidden from prying eyes.

"We'll rest here, Raju," she murmured, dismounting from her steed. "No fire tonight. We'll need to huddle for warmth."

In response, Raju affectionately placed his head on her shoulder, a silent understanding passing between them. A soft chuckle escaped Razia, momentarily easing the weight of their challenging journey.

As night settled in, a noise disrupted the rhythmic patter of rain on leaves, causing Razia to snap awake. In an instant, her hands gripped the double swords, the unique blades gleaming in the dim light. Stealthily, she moved toward the source of the disturbance.

Through the rain-drenched foliage, she discerned faint cackling and the flicker of a distant light. Curiosity mingled with caution as Razia cautiously approached, her steps careful to avoid revealing her presence. The obscured camp came into view, and to her surprise, it was not Orcs but a group of dwarves huddled around a makeshift fire, their laughter echoing through the damp night air.

Relief washed over Razia as she realized the unexpected encounter. Lowering her blades, she stepped into the light, catching the attention of the dwarves. Their eyes widened at the sight of a lone traveler emerging from the rain-soaked shadows, a hint of skepticism in their expressions.

"I mean no harm," Razia declared, her voice projecting sincerity. "I seek refuge from the storm and perhaps some company for the night."

The dwarves exchanged glances before one with a grizzled beard and a twinkle in his eye stepped forward. "Well, well! A wanderer in these forsaken lands. Join us, lass. We have a tale or two to share, and the warmth of the fire is free for all seeking shelter in Annúminas."

As Razia joined the dwarven camp in Annúminas, her eyes widened in recognition as she spotted Bifur among them. However, to her surprise, he spoke in English rather than Khuzdul. It dawned on her that the events of Moria were yet to unfold.

Embracing the camaraderie, Razia found herself enthralled by the tales of Durin's folk. The dwarves, in turn, were intrigued by the unique bead in her hair. Bifur, with a quizzical look, gestured towards the golden trinket. "What's the story behind that bead, lass?"

Razia mustered a nervous smile, fingering the intricately braided bead. "It is a family heirloom. From a friend of my ancestors long ago." she answered vaguely. 

Bifur's eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity evident. "A family heirloom, you say?  Which clan does this bead belong to?"

Razia hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the dwarves' collective gaze. "Oh, it's from a distant clan, one that doesn't dwell in these parts anymore," she replied, her tone measured. "The stories are a bit hazy, you know, passed down through generations. It is said this bead guides the path of its bearer. Simply bedtime stories I suppose."

Bofur, with a twinkle in his eye, joined in, "And where might this path be leading you, Razia?"

Seizing the opportunity, Razia steered the conversation away. "Oh, you know how it is. Wanderers like us don't always have a fixed destination. We let the journey unfold, discovering our fate along the way."

As the dwarves exchanged knowing glances, Bifur patted her shoulder, "Fair enough, lass. Fate's a tricky thing, and sometimes it's best not to pry too deep. Now, speaking of journeys, where might you be headed?"

Razia took a deep breath before revealing her intentions, "The Blue Mountains, actually. I've heard there are wonders there that defy imagination."

"The Blue Mountains, eh?" Gloin grunted in approval. "Well, that's our destination too. What brings you there?"

Razia smiled, relieved that their paths aligned. "Fate, perhaps? Maybe it's destiny that our journeys coincide. Would you mind if I joined your company?"

The dwarves exchanged glances once more before Bofur shrugged, "Why not? More company means more stories on the road."

As the night approached and the conversation wound down, Razia thanked the dwarves for their company and found a spot by the campfire to rest. As she lay beneath the starlit sky, she couldn't shake the feeling that her journey had just taken an unexpected but fortuitous turn.