A Better Place - The Hobbit Fanfiction

Twenty-First Entry - To Dale and the Mountain

I was sore and stiff when I woke. This was what I got for showing off. Soviel had said my name, that was why I was up and it was still dark outside the warped window. The snow on the windowpane nearly glowed.

“The maid has brought you something to eat and hot water for washing,” Soviel told me, coming to my aid when she saw me struggling to sit up.

“This is what I get for showing off,” I gasped when between the two of us we managed to get me upright.

Soviel pushed a stray braid behind my ear. “Perhaps this should be the last time you do so.”

My shoulders slumped. “I know. It will be.” There were a lot of lasts coming and going these days.

I used the wide bowl of hot water more to warm my hands than anything else, cupping them around it while Soviel buttoned up the back of my pale blue tunic. Its color wasn’t far from those the king usually wore, and I wondered if he had requested the presence of this tunic for that purpose specifically. The red, the dark blue and this tunic were the ones Tauriel had packed, but I hadn’t seen this one before today. Soviel straightened out my braids as well while I was picking at one of the honeyed buns that made up my breakfast. There was also some warm, watered down mead, which I drank in its entirety in the hopes it would warm me from the inside out.

“Positively charming,” she declared me several minutes later, when she had helped me into the thicker boots, crimson hat, fur-lined cloak and a pair of red mittens as well. The way she winked from over her teasing smile let me know her cousin had told her of my opinion regarding the Master’s compliments from the night before.

I rolled my eyes at Soviel’s compliments too, but when I looked in a gold-cracked mirror three times my height I had to agree—in my own world I had never looked so cared-for. “Let’s go stomp in formation some more,” I said with a small grumble, going to the door, yanking down on the handle and pushing with both hands.

The door didn’t move. In blank astonishment I watched as Soviel took a heavy brass key from under the top edge of her breastplate and inserted it into the lock. At my expression she said placidly, “The king wanted to ensure you were safe.”

As she opened the door I prayed that that was the only reason for the lock in the door. Not that he was preventing me from leaving for the dwarves.

I didn’t see Thranduil that day as we marched. My feet dragged with the unfamiliarity of the thicker boots, but Soviel was always ready to haul me back up. At least the top layer of the ground was frozen—I would have been up to my knees in mud if it hadn’t been. And behind the long army of the elves marched an army of Laketown now too. I prayed Thorin could find it in himself to return whatever it was he and Thranduil had quarreled over. His newly won world was about to be torn apart if he couldn’t. Didn’t he see that his home now required more protecting than his pride?

“Why are these gems of Thranduil’s so important?” I asked Oloran on the third night out of Laketown, as he led me to where my bedroll had been neatly laid out.

“The gems were his father’s.” When he saw my expectant gaze he added, “His father is no longer here. He passed centuries ago.”

His somber tone made me want to inquire after the manner of Thranduil’s father’s death, but since the elves usually elucidated more readily if they were going to elucidate at all, I knew he would answer no more questions on the matter.

“How is your back feeling?” Mirinel asked on the fifth day. “Nesetha is concerned about the pain.”

I propped my chin up on my knees as Nesetha worked on my scorch mark. “Think of it as being like a drop of ink in a glass of water. It was more concentrated at first, but now it’s spreading out and becoming less distinct. I have aches all through my back and ribs and arms but my skin isn’t as bad. There’s the same amount of pain, it’s just redistributing.”