Moments with Modern Reader.
Thorin: It is deep into the night. The two of you on watch. There's the smell of woodsmoke and pipe tobacco. The sound of owls and croaking frogs. You don't say much. Listen to the steady sound of Thorin's breathing. Watch the night stars.
It's at night it hits you the hardest. With no one to speak to or distract you. The heavy pangs of homesickness. It turns your guts. Makes you worry, sick.
"Y/n?" You heard Thorin rumble from beside you. Unlike the others he's still the only one to call you by your name. No nicknames. "You are going to hurt yourself if you continue to do that." He pulls your hands apart. The skin is red on the back of your non-dominant hand. When did you?
"Your mind is heavy." You look at him. And with burning ears you look away.
"I suppose." You tell him going back to looking out in the distance. You squint your eyes. Trying to make out something in the darkness.
"There is nothing out there." Thorin tells you. You scoff. Shake your head.
"And how can you tell?" Thorin chuckles.
"Dwarves have keener eyes in the dark than man." It is then you realize Thorin has most likely seen you every time you've made a face or stuck your tongue out at him.
Thorin brushes the back of his hand against your arm. "What ails you?" You say nothing. Shrug.
"It's nothing. Honestly." You tell him. And truly were you to burden him with these thoughts?He has enough on his plate.
Thorin's staring at you. Looking at you as if he were pulling you apart piece by piece. Smoke bellows from his lips. His eyes dart. Then, once again, he separates your hands. This time holding one in his.
It's comforting. You think. A grounding warmth. It's safe.
"It is something. If the mere thought of it makes you hurt yourself Givashith*." He turns your hand. Rubs his thumb across your knuckles. "So tell me. So that I may ease your mind."
You begin to pull in on yourself. Thorin says nothing. Only watched as you pulled his hand towards you. Fiddle with his rings. Twisting them around his fingers. You take a breath. Ground yourself.
"I miss home. That's all." Still you stare at his hand. Wait for a laugh. A mock surely. You miss home. He lost his. His people. Your family is still safe and.
"Relax. You are not being judged." He pulls his hand away. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. He pauses. Waits to see if you'll move.
As if. It's comforting. The smell of him. Rich leather and tobacco smoke. His arm was heavy around you. You leaned closer. Resting your head on him. You felt Thorin tighten his hold around you.
"I know that feeling. Missing home. You worry for your family. Your friends. It weighs on you. Pulls you down. The wondering if they are safe or not." You could feel the vibration in his chest as he speaks. Feel the tears in your eyes well. Threaten to spill.
"I would tell you not to worry if I knew it would do you good." Thorin exhaled smoke. Tamped out his pipe. "But I can assure you that you will be kept safe with us. We will find you a way home if we can. Search the ends of Middle Earth for what sent you here. To us." Thorin's head lowered and he brushed away the tears that fell.
"Until then. You will have a home always, in Erebor. Our home. You have helped my Company. I will help you. In this life and the next." The tears fell more freely. "You are apart of my Company. My people. And for as long as you remain, under my protection." He pulled you in. Held you tightly. "I do not say this nearly enough. But you are a gift sent to us. My little Khajimel*. A guiding star in these dark times. Stay. And I will give you a home."
* Givashith: Treasure that is young.
* Khajimel: Gift of all gifts.
Fili: The day had been long. Tiring. At the very least the group had gotten to bathe in the river. The cool water welcomed in the summer heat.
As you were washing you noticed the chipped paint on your nails. Most laid bare save for one or two stubborn blue blotches.
When you got back to camp you pulled your pack into your lap. Digging out a small bag stuffed with things from home you couldn't bear to part with. Out of it came your phone. Long dead. Car keys, chapstick. Mints which you stuck into your pocket. A lighter, a paper bound book and. There! Gods knew how it was still in one piece. Or how you still had it. But it was there. Half empty. But there. Your nail polish.
For the most part the group ignored you. Busy re-braiding their hair or stitching up holes in their clothes. So you left in peace to repaint your nails. A sense of normalcy you hadn't had in months.
Until it came to paint the nails of your dominant hand. You grumbled. Muttered curses.
"What are you doing?" Fili asked. Sitting across from you. You look up. Noticed most of his hair was still loose. Still damp from the river.
"Painting my nails?" More a question than an answer. You held your finished hand up. Fili took it in his. Studied your now blue nails.
"What is it?" He asked still holding your hand.
"It's nail polish? Do you not have that here?" You asked. Fili shook his head. Still holding your hand."Don't touch it!" You almost yelled. "You'll smudge it because it's not dry yet."
"Sorry." He told you. You gave a laugh and took back your hand. Picking the bottle back up to restart your other hand. Or were. Fili stopped you. Took the bottle.
"May I?" He asked. "Paint your nails. I mean." You face flushed. On one hand you didn't have to paint your other hand and mess it up. But also. Fili got to hold your hand.
Actually. That's not bad.
"Ya. Go ahead." Oh ya. Real smooth. Your voice squeaked when you said that. Fili smiles. Laughs. Blasted dwarf.
Fili took your hand in his . Pulled the brush from the bottle. His nose scrunches. "It smells weird." You shrug your shoulders.
"It goes away after the paint dries for a while." With little else to do Fili painted your nails.
It sends butterflies to your stomach. The way he was treating you. Softly. Gently. Careful not to turn your fingers too far. Made sure not to smudge the paint.
"There." He told you. All too soon it ended. "It's very pretty." His fingers brush your palm as he pulls away. "Almost as pretty as you." At that your faced burned. Feeling as if though you would combust you'd sputtered out a thank you.
For what you weren't sure.
Dwalin: You know. You were pretty sure that this was how you were gonna die.
Sure. You did have a part in The Battle of Five Armies. And maybe you did help Slayer Azog the Defiler. You certainly had the scars to show for it.
But this was Dwalin. The dwarf you were sure wanted you dead for most of the journey. It sure felt like it with all the quick lessons he would give you every time the Company rested.
He trained you as if each lesson could end in your death. In the end you learned it was because he cared for you. Worried about your safety as one the most inexperienced in the group.
It was because of his training you lived. Through Goblin Town in Mirkwood. Against the orcs and against Azog.
It was because if Dwalin you were able to keep the Durins' safe. And it was Dwalin you carried your battered body to the healers tent. It was him who stayed by your side until you woke.
It was because of that you were here now. A wooden training sword in hand. Weighted with led to mimic a real one. Dwalin across from you. Seeming like a towering giant at the end of the beanstalk.
Your breathing was heavy. Focused. You hung to every word he told you. Went through drills more familiar to you than the roads of your hometown. You knew it set his mind at ease. Always to keep you safe until he could come. It made your heart warm that he cares so deeply.
Dwalin cared for you like family. With it came an undying loyalty.
For the fifth time that day the wooden sword was knocked from your hands. For the first time you were able to move. A quick roll and a spring from your legs. An unseen pull of the short swords at your hips.
The smile in Dwalins face was nothing short of brilliant. His loud laugh and words of praise filled you with pride.
"Rest pebble." Both of you were breathing heavily. Clothing stuck to sweaty skin. "I'll go and get the water. Wait here." You did. Immediately sitting on the floor when he left as to catch your breath. A smile still at your lips. Both from success and Dwalins praise.
You found it funny he still called you pebble despite your age. An adult by the terms of man. Still a child in most dwarven eyes.
You heard the doors open and close to the training room. A group of young dwarves spilling in. Loudly to.
You stood moving away from the floor to give them space. Instead you sat on the bench that held the shedded outerwear of yours and Dwalins clothes.
You picked up the small silver circlet that marked you as the family of Durin. It was Thorins hands that made it.
It was made of a thin silver. There was only one gem and it rested on your brow. The metal wove around itself to your temples. There it stopped at two ravens on either side. Thier wings held open in flight.
It was precious to you. Not for what it was made of. But from who it came from and what it stood for.
You knew Dwalin was going to give you an earful later. You hadn't noticed that the same group of Dwarves came up to you.
"You're y/n. Right? The so called "Slayer of Azog "?" You cringed. Died a little bit on the inside. They laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
It wasn't even the proper title.
"Depends on why you're asking." You told them. Every warning bell your body had to offer was going off. The group numbered three and we're trying to surround you on the bench.
Your stood. Placed the circlet on your brow purely out of habbit. The redheaded dwarf. The one who asked the question, screwed his face in disgust.
"We only wish to meet the person who our King holds in such. High regard." Lord almighty. He could have just said he wanted to spill your guts with the amount of venom he spilled on those words.
Slowly you turned yourself towards the exit.
"Were friends." Family actually. But they didn't need to know that. The red head laughed. Shouldered the other two.
"We also came to see your skill. Surely you must be a fine warrior to have fought alongside the kings and Prince's." At this the others snorted.
Ya well. That was mostly luck and enough spite at life to not die on anyone's terms but your own. And the fact you were kinda pissed Thorin left you behind. Understandable but still.
"I." You shook your head. "No thanks." At that the red head smiled. It made you sick just to see it.
"There isn't a choice here. You will show us. We can't have the king with a weak "friend" can we?" He spat out the word friend as if he had personal beef with it.
They came closer. You stepped back. Still they came. You found your body moving without you telling it to. Shifting and moving into a more defensive posture.
"I have nothing to prove to you, Nidoy*" His face curled into a snarl. Clear disdain for that name. You'd call him worse but then would come the conversation from Balin on how you knew more swears than actual conversation in Khuzdul.
You'd blame Dwalin of course.
"That's sad. Really. I'd hoped you would be more willing." He gets cut off. The moment he made a move to grab you you threw an open palm. Connected the heel of your hand to his nose. Listened to his wail and the crack of bone.
He fell to his knees. Face in hand. Blood spilled from between his fingers. A string of curses left his lips. He barked out something in Khuzdul too quickly for you to fully understand.
The other two gripped your arms. Held so tightly you knew there would be bruises deep within your skin. You swallowed thickly.
When was Dwalin coming back.
Your answer was soon. Very soon.
The red head was in his feet one moment. Coming at you with a fury rivaling Smaug's.
Then he was gone. A blurr of movement in front of you. A cry that rattled your chest.
The two holding you left quickly. Scrambling out the door and leaving their companion behind.
Dwalin looked murderous. Speaking rapidly in his native tongue. The dwarfs now bloodied shirt was held in one hand. His feet just brushing the floor.
"Dwalin!" You yelled. Lord's above you were not about to break that up physically. "Dwalin!" Louder this time. More desperate. Shit please. "Dwalin!" At last he turned. Gaze softening when his eyes landed on you.
"Y/n?" He spoke. You swallowed thickly. Watched as the dwarf tried to run. Dwalin jerked at his shirt. Practically snarling for him to stay out. "Are you hurt?" You shook your head.
"No. I'm not." Dwalin sighed heavily. Shoved the now trembling dwarf.
"Go boy. Get your friends." He leaned forward. Whispered something in his ear that had the dwarfs face drain of color.
He ran. Scrambled to the door.
Dwalin came to you. Turning your head side to side. Checking your hands. Your ribs. He stopped at your arms. Large bruises already forming against your skin. Dwalin ran his fingers over it.
"I am sorry. Pebble. For not coming sooner." You shook your head. Punched his chest.
"Don't be. You can't control what they did. Or even have known it would happen." You pulled away. Looked up at him. "Dwalin. I'm safe now. Besides. I got a good hit in at least." At this Dwalin roared with laughter. Pulled you close.
"Dwalin. You're kinda squishing me."
