Over Hill and Under Tree (Shiva x Traveler)

[Traveler]

He laughed. Drunker than a lord…that was a thought. Although the mead was making him feel quite undefeatable, and if a Balrog were to burst through the wall he might have picked up his axe and challenged it to a duel. Then Maerwyn shifted and she was suddenly straddling him. Her finger traced a shivering trail down his chest, sending all of his energy to one singular, hardened focus between her hot thighs.

"If you want to sleep with me, you can. For no coin at all. But only if you want to." Her voice was breathy and low. Her eyes burned with desire.

No coin? Did she sell herself for coin? He tried to concentrate, to make sense of what he was feeling, but every movement she made only frustrated his attempts. He had paid her for everything else, why would she not want coin for this? He let out a groan as his body responded, her curves beneath her shirt pressing against the fabric and reminding him of what she looked like at their camp when the Easterlings attacked. He could still taste her kiss, the eager return of her mouth upon his, and the way she was tracing her finger along his chest made him want to feel her on other parts of his body.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," she continued slowly, drawing invisible pictures on his skin with her fingertip. "I'm still your bodyguard, you're still my employer. In the morning everything goes back to normal. We'll leave, and--"

And what? It didn’t have to mean anything? What did she mean? He slid his hands along her hips, feeling her pressed against his rigid shaft and thinking that nothing could feel better. Her words were clear though; to Maerwyn this would be a pastime, nothing more. Something to amuse themselves in the evening, to help them better sleep. He meant nothing to her other than as her employer. But it was better than Dís who wanted nothing from him, except his absence. Except his death.

At least the mercenary tolerated him as long as he had coin. Tomorrow they would leave and continue, until he was ready to face the Caves of Moria. And then, he supposed, there was not enough coin to make Maerwyn stay.

He felt the realization like a dagger in his heart. If he was walking into certain death, he at wanted to know what being with a woman was like. And perhaps he had drunk enough that he could pretend, at least for tonight, that Maerwyn cared more for him than the coin he carried. He could pretend, and her touches felt so good…he wanted to believe the lie.

As Maerwyn bent to kiss him, her thighs squeezing hard around his hips, he pressed up against her, instinctively knowing that they should meet there. His powerful hands slid against her back, callouses and stout, thick fingers touching her skin, grasping her body and pulling her closer as they kissed. If kissing felt this good, how much better was actual sex?

He slipped her shirt above her head as he kissed her, releasing her lips only to allow the garment to be tossed away. He felt the rocking in her body, the urgent calling of her heat, and could not get her tunic off fast enough. And then she sat upon him, her torso exposed in the candlelight. His pulled himself into a seated position, his bare chest brushing hers. He grasped the swell of her backside straddled over him, pressed hands against her skin as if he couldn’t touch her firmly enough to memorize each moment together.

He reached up and pulled her head to his, kissing her again, as one hand ran up her rib cage and found her soft breast. Her hardened nipple caught the attention of a rough thumb, and as he kissed her he captured her nipple between his fingertips, exploring the differences in her human body.

If he was going to have one night with a woman, it was going to count.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

His body was responding to hers exactly the way she had hoped it would, and Maerwyn couldn't help but smile a little in pride. Orin didn't seem to have the words to answer her suggestions, but his hands had no trouble speaking for him. It was quite refreshing actually; so many other men she'd known had always been so quick to speak their demands of her, and whisper the things they wanted to do to her. But the dwarf just held her, exploring her body and somehow making her feel both fragile and powerful at the same time. This must be what it feels like to be one of those beautiful things he creates.

Orin had wasted no time in pulling off her shirt, but the chain still hung heavy around the woman's neck, and his ring burned like fire against her skin. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she felt one of those powerful hands gripping her breast. It was practically a perfect fit, with only the slightest hint of a curve spilling over as her nipple hardened against his thumb. Her hips began to press more firmly and circly slowly against the bulge that was so close to her hungry sex, and as her hands began to slip down his back Maerwyn dug her nails in more deeply, leaving long, shallow scratches on his skin. By the stars, she would have thought his body was made of stone if it weren't for the warmth of him. What would it be like when he finally entered into her? Even with two layers of clothing still keeping them apart, Maerwyn was already soaking wet and ready for him, and her patience was running thin.

When she couldn't stand it any longer, she kissed him hard and pushed away, rolling onto her back beside him for a moment and wriggling out of her trousers like an expert contortionist. The woman's entire body was on view to him now, and once she'd kicked the last of her clothing off of the bed she froze for a moment, feeling the dwarf's eyes on her. Her heart began to pound anew, but this was something more than the animal lust she'd felt so far. A strange heat she hadn't felt in years began to course through her blood, and with shock in her eyes Maerwyn realized she actually felt shy. For the first time, he could see all of her in the clear light. The scars on her chest, her long toned legs, and her slick and pulsing womanhood, just aching for him. Her hands twitched a moment, ready to cover her sex and her breasts from Orin's intense gaze, and she had to force herself to remain still and let him stare at her to his content.

Not wanting him to sense the hesitation in her though, the woman quickly laughed and began to reach for his own trousers. "Never seen a naked woman before, hm? Sorry you couldn't have a fairer example. Most of my kind have bodies a little less beat up than mine. But at least I know what I'm doing," she grinned as she pulled off the last of his clothing and threw the garments in with hers, though she was careful to avert her eyes from his, just so he wouldn't see the self-deprecation in her face. Luckily her gaze landed directly on his cock, and all worry about her own appearance quickly vanished in appreciation of his.

"Oh my..." the woman gasped, running one hand up his shaft and turning back towards him. "Are all dwarves built like you? Someone ought to have said something to the rest of us." Slipping him a naughty wink, Maerwyn lowered her head to run her tongue up, down, and all round his member. Only once she'd satisfied herself with a taste of him did Maerwyn rise up again, positioning her sex barely an inch above him before gently laying a hand beside his cheek. "Ready?" she asked, teasing her opening against him but not pushing down.

 

[Traveler]

Her hands were like fire, warming him through his clothing as she pressed so near his manhood. The aching tease of almost being touched by her forced a guttural groan from deep inside his chest. And then her nails, scraping across his back, sent lighting to his loins. She was primal; strong and confident, soft and feminine. He kissed her lips, convincing himself that her eager return was because she felt it too. Because she wanted him. She needed him. He drank in her lips until she pushed herself away, and for a moment he thought she had changed her mind - that she would negotiate a price to share her body.

Then she stripped off her clothing in frantic haste and stood before him completely bare. He took in the vision before him; slim and curvaceous, her body tested and marked from many battles. He felt his chest clench with desire. His manhood grew rigid and wide, the coursing pulse in his veins racing to fill each extremity for battle. His chest heaved; the calm before the storm. She was beautiful. She was wild, and mysterious, feisty and raw. He wanted to consume her.

She laughed and broke the tension. "Never seen a naked woman before, hm? Sorry you couldn't have a fairer example. Most of my kind have bodies a little less beat up than mine. But at least I know what I'm doing,"

“Shh,” he hushed her, his hands meeting hers to remove his clothing. No fanfare, no tease, just pull and rip and yank until he was as bare as she. His body was hard from years of work in the mountains, sturdy and strong. His chest and legs covered in hair, and the trail from chest to pubic bone thinned and thickened before being pierced by the rigid shaft that she had just awakened. At first he thought she might back out, decide he wasn’t what she wanted, but her appreciative words, and the gleam in her eye, said otherwise. Then she touched him and he groaned, her slim hand so foreign against his flesh. The newness, the ecstasy; that the same hand that carved the tiny bear was touching him. The eyes that had looked at him across the table in the Gilded Lantern, had asked him if he was on a journey, was leading him to a place he did not think he’d see for another fifty years.

As he met her on the bed, he thought she would come and kiss him, but she moved down…he gasped as her tongue met his shaft; the verboten act so carnal he could only grasp her hair and let out a groan of appreciation. He thought he would die from the pleasure. Her swirling tongue, the press of her lips, her hands upon his thigh. No wonder men and dwarves paid coin for a night of pleasure. But he did not think it could be like this with any other than her.

"Ready?" she asked.

How had she gotten up there? “What‽” he replied. And then she slid around him, tight and wet and hot. He grasped her hips and pulled her in closer. “Oh, Ilúvatar…” he couldn’t wait any longer, the need was urgent, and her sheath so sublime. He cradled her to his body and rolled them over, until he was above his guide. They fit so well; and he was inside her. He glanced down and saw the point where they joined. His hips heaved of their own accord, instinctively rutting, thrusting, piercing into her heat. He hooked an arm under one knee and braced her as he pursued that final perfection.

A momentary thought that he was hurting her flew away at the look on her face. No, that wasn’t pain he saw. The harder he thrust, the deeper he hit, the more her expression encouraged him. And then suddenly it hit; so powerful and deep. The feeling overwhelmed him, froze him in place. He could do nothing but ride the wave of pleasure and pain that shot down to his groin and out his shaft, ripping him from all the ties of boyhood and dumping him into the world of man.

He felt the cool chill as the sensation passed; his limbs weakened and he collapsed onto her chest with a groan of satisfaction. As he panted against her breast he only wanted to sleep. His mind was numb, his body at ease, nothing in the world could ail him. He turned his head, brushing his beard across her breasts and sighed.

“Thank you,” he whispered, not daring to look up in her eyes, and rolled to the side so she could breathe. He didn't want to see the disappointment in her eyes, not so soon to his own pleasure. He closed his eyes a moment, panting from their union, and sighed. He found her hand with his as he gazed upon the ceiling. "Thank you," he whispered again, holding her small hand in his.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Oh stars!" Maerwyn gasped as she felt him piercing her. He was perfect, filling her to the brim and stretching just enough to send a pulse of ecstasy through her body. If she didn't know better she would have sworn his body had been made just for her, and with a sigh and a moan she leaned forward to kiss him once more, ready to pull back and come down on him all over again.

But the dwarf clearly had other plans. She could feel his arms tightening around her and rolling her onto her back as though she weighed no more than a feather. For a moment Maerwyn considered fighting back, a little growl rising in her throat as she thrust harder against him. There was a delicious sort of challenge in the idea of trying to wrestle him down while his cock was trapped deep inside her, at the moment, during this first sweet encounter (and there would be more, there had to be more, as long as they were together) she allowed him to do as he wished. Besides, Maerwyn must have been mistaken in guessing this was his first time with a woman of any kind. A human woman perhaps, but he must have had a dwarf or two to perfect the rhythm that was slowly driving her to the edge, and to know exactly how to hold her leg to drive into the very depths of her core.

"Orin...!" she moaned, cutting off his name as she bit her lip, feeling herself ready to peak. Just like when they fought together, every move they made seemed to match and complement the other, and when she finally felt the burning seed filling her, Maerwyn's own body seemed to explode in response. Her walls clamped tight around him for a moment then burst into uncontrollable spasms as she cried out his name again, over and over while her hand scrabbled at his back. When the storm of pleasure died away into a gentle glow that settled heavily into her limbs while the dwarf laid his head just as heavily on her breast.

Smiling, Maerwyn raised her hands and held him there a few moments, running her fingers through his hair and twitching every now and then as his beard tickled against her still-sensitive breasts. "Thank you," she repeated with a little laugh, lifting up his head to brush her lips over his brow. "I knew working for you would be worth it." The woman let out another satisfied sigh, and while she would have been happy to feel his weight on her all night she let him go as he rolled to the side. But she was more than a little touched that he still held onto her hand despite his own exhaustion, and some strange shadow of an emotion she couldn't quite make out. Judging from past experiences, the mercenary half-expected him to rise to his feet a moment after coupling, ready to put his clothes on and get away as quickly as possible. Not so with the dwarf, although she wasn't sure if that was because he still wanted her near, or because he had nowhere else to go.

Well, there was one way to figure it out. She draped one arm over his waist and moved closer to him, snuggling closer against his chest. If Orin wanted to separate himself from the woman, the only way to do so would be with a conscious effort. And strangely enough, Maerwyn found herself praying that he wouldn't. Listening to his heartbeat like this, feeling the warmth of his body against the chill of the cavern, it seemed like the perfect way to fall asleep. There was only one thing that bothered her slightly as her thighs rubbed against one another, feeling the mixed fluids leaking out from inside her.

Dwarves can't impregnate human women Maerwyn told herself, even though she had no idea if the statement was true or not. Despite the small, squirming doubt at the back of her mind, this was what she was choosing to believe at the moment. Imagine, trying to walk the wilds while carrying a child within her! It was impossible, but even if it were so, she didn't exactly have anyplace she could go to deal with it. That was why she was always so careful with the men she took to bed, rarely letting them finish inside of her or taking the appropriate herbs afterward if necessary. She had no such herbs right now, only the half-believed platitudes she kept silently repeating to herself. It must take more than one try even if it is possible. Everything will be fine, go to sleep.

Maybe it was these thoughts that made her squeeze Orin's waist slightly, or just some part of her wanting reassurance that he was still here. "I don't think we need a watch tonight, do we?" she murmured finally, hoping business as usual would calm her enough to let her finally sleep. "Do you want to get up early?" Maerwyn asked, raising her head and turning to look back into his face. "Not that I have any idea what time it is down here. For all I know it's morning already." Sighing heavily, she laid her head back down on his chest. "This is why I don't like caves."

 

[Traveler]

Oh? When Maerwyn moved into his arms, her head on his chest, he smiled. Oh…So this was what it was like. She squeezed his waist and he wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer, enjoying the feel of her head on his chest. His other hand found hers and held it, fingers gently wrapped around the delightful digits that had wrapped him earlier.

He chuckled at the though of setting watch. “No,” he replied, then ‘no’ again when she asked about rising early.

"Not that I have any idea what time it is down here. For all I know it's morning already." Sighing heavily, she laid her head back down on his chest. "This is why I don't like caves."

“Four hours and a half until daybreak,” he murmured against her hair. “We’ll leave mid-morning, take the long road…” he sighed. And then what? What would he need to do to prepare for Moria? And would he even go, now that he knew?

It was too much to think about with a mead-soaked mind. He reached down to pull the blanket over Maerwyn’s pale, smooth, delightful form, found her hand again, and closed his eyes to sleep.

~ * ~​

“What do you think is keeping them?” asked Havus. Baked hand pies, sweet minced cakes, a roast of something brined, and scrambled eggs topped the table. She’d packed away hard cheeses and dried meats, and several pouches dried bars of pressed nuts and dried fruit. Her old traveling flask filled with Dwarven spirits sat nearby.

Lorryn slid ten arrows into a tube and set it aside. He eyed his wife as she paced the kitchen, short worried steps reflecting her worry.

“Do you think they drank too much? I should check on them—”

“Let them be,” he chastened.

“But they might—”

“They are fine.” He leveled his gaze at her. “They are not children.” Although, had they been elves they would have been. “Let them rest.”

She checked the oven, then poured another cup of coffee. “It’s way past morning,” she complained.

“Havus!” he stood and went to pour hot water over leaves, swirling the cup to hasten the brewing. “They stayed up late. They are sleeping hard. Let. Them. Rest.”

“And how do you know they stayed up late? Doing what?”

He smirked and touched a tapered ear.

“Oh,” she replied, hands wringing her apron. Then she raised her eyes in understanding, “Oh…”

~ * ~​

Stout fingers traced the lines of scars on her arm. He smiled down at her face; the drool, the soft snore that certainly had to be much quieter than his own, the little doll hands, the spray of hair across her shoulders. The cavern was still and peaceful. If he could stay here forever, just hold her, he would be content. But she did not like the caves, and her place was in the sun.

He kissed the top of her head. He would enjoy every moment until they were once again employer and guide. His stomach rumbled, and he chuckled at his mortal needs. “Maerwyn,” he whispered, “wake up. I'm famished.”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

“Four hours and a half until daybreak,” he murmured against her hair, causing Maerwyn to chuckle and shake her head slightly.

"Dwarves," she chuckled, letting her eyes drift shut. She could still hear Orin's rich voice listing out the plan for tomorrow, but the woman was too exhausted now to listen properly. They would sleep in late in the morning, that was all that mattered to her. It was a privilege she hadn't luxuriated in since before setting out on this madcap journey of theirs, and even then she'd slept alone, with nothing but memories to warm her.

Not tonight though. Despite the chill of the cavern, the dwarf's body was more than warm enough to keep the woman comfortable in the night. Indeed, if it weren't for the subtle movements and soft stomach growls she might have slept right on through the entire day. It was so rare for Maerwyn to find herself in a place safe enough to allow more than a few hours of sleep, and whenever she found such a sanctum she could never find a better use for it. But now her companion's whispers were penetrating her quickly-fading dreams, and although she let out a soft, rebellious groan and pulled the blanket up over her head, it was no use. She was awake.

"If it's morning I suppose I'll have to take your word for it," she grumbled, rolling off of the dwarf's body but still refusing to stand up. Only a couple of the candles from the night before remained, and the room was otherwise still drowned in blackness. For all she knew it was the middle of the night yet, but the stiffness in her limbs warned her she'd slept well beyond her usual four or five hours. Not only that, but the more she awoke the more conscious she became of a throbbing in her head, and as she rubbed the spot directly between her eyebrows she couldn't help but groan a little.

"What in the world did we do last night?" she asked, the words escaping her lips a moment before she realized she was naked. Part of the evening--hopefully the most important part, otherwise she really had had too much to drink--came back to her and made her blush, but everything else between dinner and now was a shadow. "I mean, besides that," she added quickly, rolling back over to take another sneaking look at Orin's naked body and deciding she had no regrets about the encounter. The drinking, however, was a completely different story.

Now the coolness of the cave was a relief on her aching head as Maerwyn found the strength to stumble out of bed towards a water pitcher on a stand near the wall. After pouring herself a drink (and immediately draining the cup and having another), she poured a little more into a stone basin and splashed it over her face, trying to revitalize her senses. It helped somewhat, but as she glanced towards the door leading into the spring she sensed a bath might do a bit more to rouse her. "I'm going to go wash up a minute," the woman remarked, lighting a few more candles as she made her way across the room. She paused when she was directly in front of Orin, then inclined her head invitingly. "Care to join me?"

The morning bath wasn't quite so decadent as the evening's though, and she emerged a short while later feeling more refreshed than relaxed, and wasted no time in getting dressed. By now her own appetite was growing, and it was only her loyalty for the dwarf that kept her from abandoning him entirely and going out in search of food on her own. That, and the fact that she was utterly lost beyond the door of their room. Without Orin's guidance, Maerwyn was sure she could end up hopelessly lost in the underground tunnels, so she merely sat down and waited for him on the bed, following him into the corridor when he was ready.

*****
​

In the woods aboveground, two figures were slipping silently through the misty morning. To all eyes but theirs, the ramshackle hut in the woods was practically invisible, the light in the window having gone out hours ago. But the two sharp-eared, sharp-eyed women had no trouble finding their way to the shack (which now resembled just more of a rocky hill than a real house), and their light feet carried them soundlessly through the door. By day the chimneys might have been natural fissures in the stone floor, and the main air-hole, while emitting the tantalizing scent of food below, was well-hidden in the shadows of the room. The spiral staircase had utterly disappeared from the night before, but the elder elf of the pair easily found the hidden mechanism to reveal it, and wasted no time in descending.

"Nanleth?" the blonde called out in a sweet, high pitched voice. "Adhanar?"

Behind her, the red-haired elf (clearly her sister based on the close physical resemblance in their faces) let out a warning hiss as she sealed the stairway behind them, her suspicious jasper-colored eyes glancing back to make sure they weren't being followed. Once she was sure they were alone, she joined in her sister's calls in the common tongue. "Auntie? Uncle? Are you home?" Her voice was lower and huskier than the blonde's, and while the latter descended the stairs freely, like a beloved daughter coming home, the redhead was much more cautious in her movements, even fingering the hilt of a knife much the same way another woman had done only the night before.

Both elves relaxed when they entered the main hall though, their eyes falling in relief upon the forms of Havus and Lorryn. "Good morning Auntie!" cried the blonde, stepping lightly over to the dwarf and bending over to kiss her on her fuzzy cheek before looking triumphantly back at her sister. "See, Carlin? I told you if we kept up our pace we'd make it in time for breakfast."

Carlin rolled her eyes, but she too kissed Havus' cheek and gave the dwarf a little squeeze on the shoulder. "I told Emlin we shouldn't impose, but you know how she gets when she's hungry," the redhead replied. Once both elves had greeted their hostess, they turned gracefully towards the dark haired male, not approaching him but bowing respectfully to him in unison.

"I hope you're well, Lorryn?" Emlin remarked, removing her weapons and setting them neatly by the door as her sister followed suit.

Meanwhile, Carlin stayed close at Havus' side, though her expression was more than a little perplexed as she looked at the table. "That's quite a bit of food there for just you and Uncle, isn't it?" At the sound of movement in the main corridor though, her ears twitched in realization. "Oh Auntie, we haven't interrupted anything, have we? I told that idiot we should have sent word that we were coming," she frowned in her sister's direction. Not that they had a reliable way of communicating with their most isolated neighbors, but she still felt bad about Emlin's presumption. "You have guests, I take it?" the redhead asked, looking back down at the dwarf.

 

[Traveler]

Thank goodness she had been fed ‘in all things’ the night prior, for Maerwyn’s mood seemed to be on the darker side of grumpy that morning. He could only imagine how much grumpier she would have been had she slept alone. Orin yawned and watched her wake; the tiny valley between her brows furrowing as she rubbed her head. The slight downturn of her lips, the question about their activities, and then the realization “I mean, besides that.”

‘Ouch.’

He rolled his face away from her and sat on the side of the bed. He’d joined the five or six at Esgroth, including Stigric in the barrel, and who knew whomever else there was on her long list of regrets, it seemed. He supposed if Torwald were still alive he could add ‘dwarf-fucker’ to his list of insults to describe the guide.

As she got up to wash her face, Orin realized his bag and belongings were still in the nursery. He yawned again, and sighed, remembering the harsh tone he had taken the night before, and the advice given to him by his mother and her elf.

~ “Whoever sent you there is no one you should be involved with, Orin.”

~ “If she told you to go there and bring something back for you, what she’s saying is that she never wants to see you again. Never.”

~ “The answer is simple Orin. Do not go back.”

He pulled on his shirt and trousers as Maerwyn lit more candles and brightened the room. "I'm going to go wash up a minute," the woman remarked. She paused when she was directly in front of Orin, then inclined her head invitingly. "Care to join me?"

That was the question, was it not? Did he care to join her in her endless wanderings? No goals, no destination, just moving from one spot to another, never knowing where the next job or bed would be, or if they’d see another roof above their heads. There were things to see of course; the land beyond the Misty Mountains, the lands of Rohan and Eriador, and the great oceans beyond. And perhaps when he had wandered enough, or run out of coin to pay his bodyguard and guide, he’d find a town in need of a craftsman, and settle among those who lived in the sun. He was never going back to the Lonely Mountains, not unless he felt inclined to try his luck with Moria.

He looked up at Maerwyn and nodded. “I will. But first, I need my bag,” he answered, standing. “I won’t be long.” The walk to the nursery was shorter than he remembered, and the candle he had brought cast shadows of regret across the broken remnants of his childhood. He hefted his bag upon his shoulder, and saw a familiar object under a fragment of wood.

His fingers picked out the tiny object, still partially wrapped in a soft cloth. As he opened the small bundle to smile at the wooden bear, he noted the pebble he had picked up along the river was gone. He glanced about, moved a few objects, but it was no where to be found. ‘There are plenty of pebbles in the world,’ he thought, though that was the one Maerwyn had handed him when she described the pebbles made out to be diamonds. ‘But there is only one lonely bear,’ he carefully wrapped the item and stowed it in a secure pocket in his bag. He supposed if he had to lose one of the two, he’d rather lose the pebble than the bear.

When he returned to Maerwyn’s room she was already in the bath. Quickly joined her, washing himself and trying not to stare at her, though the dark waters helped. When she raised up to step out of the hot bath, the steam trailed over her skin, like tendrils licking at her flesh, and the thought came unbidden that eventually she’d meet someone in a town who appealed to her, some human who looked like Aevar, and was tall and comely, and chose to lay with them as well. The thought pierced him through his chest. He had no claim on her; they were traveling together, he was paying her for her services, and he doubted there was enough coin in the land to make her want to limit her sampling of the world to one dwarf. Besides, eventually he wanted a home and a family; a place to call his own. She wanted none of that it seemed. He would become like Aevar; catching glimpses of her as she passed through town, seeing her leave with another client, and perhaps knowing that, with enough drink in her she’d share their bed as well.

He finished his bath and rose, then dressed to join her in the room. And once their things were collected, for he didn’t think he’d be returning soon, they trekked down the corridor towards the heavenly scent of breakfast.

~ * ~​

"Nanleth? Adhanar?"

Lorryn made a small sound of discontent in his throat. “The girls are here.” He glanced towards the stairs and set his teacup down. Seeing them reminded him of Nellariel and Harthion, the latter being the one who argued most against his presence in their group. The tall and beautiful Sindar spared with Lorryn, not all of it in words. Though now the man was gone and life was quiet, his daughters reminded the night elf of all that had transpired. Elven memories, it seemed, was as long-lasting as their lives.

But Havus had no such qualms, and as their footsteps brought the sisters into the main room she rushed to hug them both. “Emlin!” She scooped the girl into her powerful arms and hugged her fiercely, not willing to let their greeting be merely a kiss on the cheek or a timid touch. “Carlin!” the sister received the same greeting. “Of course, you made it in time for breakfast!”

"I told Emlin we shouldn't impose, but you know how she gets when she's hungry," the redhead replied.

“You’re always welcome; this is your home,” Havus insisted. She knew they would never lower themselves to live in a cave, but her feelings for the girls ran deep. She’d watched them grow over the last hundred years, and they had been the catalyst for her return to the Lonely Mountain to have children of her own.

"I hope you're well, Lorryn?" Emlin remarked, removing her weapons and setting them neatly by the door as her sister followed suit.

“Do you?” he asked, smiling coolly. “May your travels always bring you to friends, little ones,” he replied. “You are welcome in our home.” For all the troubles their father gave him, he did not hold it entirely upon the children’s heads. Though they were children no longer, but young women.

At Carlin’s question of food, and Emlin’s of guests, Havus beamed. “My son is visiting,” she gushed. “And you are welcome to stay and meet him and his guide.” She quickly set out two more places at the table, and Lorryn, seeing the need, brought his chair from the table where he had crafted the arrows to the kitchen.

Aside from the humans at the inns they had visited, this was the largest number of women gathered Orin had ever seen. He dropped his bag beside the wall, frowning at the new visitors. It seemed they had missed the opportunity for family talk, and with the three elves outnumbering dwarves and humans, their conversation was bound to turn to tree lore or music, or some other frivolous subject.

Havus noted the change in her son. Her eyes turned to Maerwyn and she smiled a knowing smile. The little furrow in the human’s brow was one she’d often seen. “Lorryn, dearest, would you make Maerwyn some of that draught you make?” She waved the girl and Orin forward. “I want you to meet the daughters of our dear friends; Carlin,” she said, introducing the blond, “and her sister Emlin. We traveled with their parents once or twice.”

She turned with beaming pride and put a hand on Orin’s shoulder, which to his credit he did not shake off. “This is my son, Orin Indrafangin, of the House of Durin, son of Thimli, son of Thraem, who helped forge the Doors of Durin, son of Morlig, who fought in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, and his guide and guard, Maerwyn.”

Orin placed a hand upon his abdomen and inclined his head. He felt suspicious of elves in general, and to see his mother seem so familiar to these only heightened the feeling that everyone else knew her better than he. The sooner he left, the better. Perhaps in a decade or so he would feel up to another visit, but for now he’d seen enough; she obviously cared more for the elven kin than her own people, and that included him.

Once the introductions were complete, Lorryn appeared at Maerwyn’s side with a warm cup of something red and fragrant. “Drink,” he said, handing her the mug. “Your head will thank you.” He smirked smugly at her, believing that she’d rather suffer her headache than accept his offer. The dwarven mistress was pouring cups of coffee and biding all to sit and eat before the food grew cold.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Emlin beamed at Havus' warm welcome, then shot her sister a brief 'I-told-you-so' look as she sat down at the table and helped herself to one of the hand pies. Only after Carlin had offered their hostess her assistance with the meal did she dare join her and settle in to her own breakfast. Neither elf had gotten very far though when the dwarf proudly announced her guest.

"Oh Havus, that's wonderful!" the blonde elf cried, standing up and seizing the dwarf's hands excitedly. "I know you'd been wanting to see him so long. When did he arrive? Where is he now?" While both she and Carlin had been aware of Havus' sad story about her youngest child, they'd never had the opportunity to meet him, or any of her other children for that matter. Emlin was a bit ashamed at the fact, but the truth was that over the past few decades she and her sister had rather neglected their parents' dearest friends. It was only due to the encroachment of the threats from the south that they had begun checking in on Havus and Lorryn more often, and her greatest fear was that one day they would come to visit and find that cave completely infested with spiders, or worse.

Her question about Orin's location was quickly answered though as she saw a rather handsome young dwarf emerge from the main corridor of the cave. "Why Havus, he has your eyes!" the elf gasped, striding across the room to take a better look at them. Breaking out in another sunny smile, Emlin immediately threw her arms about the younger dwarf, pressing him against her surprisingly generous chest. "Orin! It's so wonderful to finally meet you. Auntie has told us so much about you." Giving him another quick squeeze, she held him back at arm's length and took a more studious look at him, finally ending in an approving nod as she straightened her body. "I'm Emlin, and this is my sister--"

"Carlin."

Surprisingly, it wasn't the red-haired elf that had spoken. It was instead the short, slightly-disheveled looking woman at Orin's side.

Both elves froze as they stared at her, and just as Havus had spoken her name both said it at the same time.

"Maerwyn!" Emlin practically screamed. Orin was all but forgotten as the blonde brushed past him and wrapped her arms around the woman in a full body embrace.

"Maerwyn," Carlin stated, crossing her arms over her chest and looking much more critically at the mercenary for a moment, then quickly turned her attention back to the food on her plate.

For a moment, the human's body was rigid in the elf's arms, but after a quick breath she posture softened somewhat, even going so far as to hug Emlin back. Considering how rudely Maerwyn had spoken to Lorryn the night before, it was even more shocking to see that she was actually smiling as she embraced this new elf, though there was still a bit of awkward discomfort in her eyes as she patted Emlin's back.

"All right there, Em?" Maerwyn laughed, finally pushing her away. Tears were now streaming down the elf's face, but she too was smiling as she looked over the woman in front of her.

"You've grown so much," the blonde sobbed. "How could it have been so long since we've seen you? What, has it been five years? Six?"

"It's been ten for you," Carlin piped in, still refusing to look over at the pair as she began to cut up a large red apple. "Only four for me. To be honest I don't see much of a difference. Looks like you might have taken a few more knocks in the process, but you're still short and scowling as ever, aren't you, narlam?"

"Oh hush you. Eat your breakfast," Emlin snapped at her sister, then putting an arm around the woman she gently ushered her over to the table. Once seated, Maerwyn and Carlin exchanged silent looks with with another, but said nothing. Still, it would be clear to everyone else in the room that there was no love lost between the pair. Well, clear to everyone except Emlin, who was still chattering away like a chipper little songbird.

"How in the world did you end up here, tuilin?" she continued, looking from the woman to her dwarven companion. "Havus said she was your guide?" A strange little sparkle entered the blonde's emerald green eyes as she looked at the pair. Now that she was closer to them, she could see Orin looked just as disheveled as Maerwyn, and they had arrived at the same time...

Maerwyn was quick to return a sharp glare to the elf. "It's a job, that's all," she said quickly, taking a long sip of tea and trying to compose herself.

 

[Traveler]

Did everyone know his mother better than he? Emlin’s quick assessment of Orin’s eyes gave him pause. Then her quick strides across the room seemed rather like an attack and he stepped back until her arms wrapped around his stiff form and his eyes grew wide. Breast and hair and elven scent assailed him quite uncomfortably. Her familiarity too overwhelming and presumed to bring him comfort. Then she held him at arm’s length, and he resisted the urge to shrug her hands off his shoulders. Shock and surprise masked his desire to go back to the guest room and wait for these two to depart. Being hugged by an elf was not like being hugged by his mother. Emlin’s hug felt thin and suffocating; unnatural.

Then Maerwyn spoke, and Orin stilled. He watched in horror as the women greeted each other; one, the blond, seemed to love his guide. The redhead not so much.

He rolled his eyes. Did Maerwyn know people in every town and hovel they would visit? There was a kind of competition between the two. Who had seen the human guide last? Who liked or disliked her more? And how in the world did she know these two, when she had such an obvious dislike of all things elven and connected to Thranduil, the Woodland King?

"Havus said she was your guide?" asked Emlin.

Orin looked up. He had to, to meet her gaze. Past bosomy womanhood and pointed chin, he saw the gleam in her eyes, all-knowing, and he found himself at a loss. Guide, and more? The question stood. Damn the women; they discerned too much too quickly.

"It's a job, that's all," Maerwyn replied. And though she may not have meant it, the sharp glare traveled past the dwarf to reach the elf.

Orin’s chest clenched. He reheard her words the night before - "I knew working for you would be worth it." He was a job. A client; another pebble by the riverbank, just like any other. Perhaps he was one of many clients gleaned from taverns like the Gilded Lantern, served and sent on their way once their task was complete. Or the coin ran out.

Lorryn saw the flash of emotion shoot across the room. He watched his wife’s son move to the table, seat himself, and begin to eat in solitude. He glanced at Havus, who was oblivious to the boy’s discomfort. Even he had not known that Maerwyn would be familiar to the sisters, and the pale elf had prided himself on knowing things others did not. ‘The girl had been here only four years ago? What had happened four years ago,’ he wondered, eyes turning back to the women.

Emlin wouldn’t let it rest. “A job? But I wouldn’t think anyone could pay you enough to come by here again. Not after—” good sense finally took seed in her brain, and she clamped a hand to her mouth. “I mean…you know.”

“After what?” Havus asked. It seemed the question had to be broached, and if the girls knew this woman, there was a story behind it.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

A wicked smile crossed Carlin's lips as she raised a cup of tea. "Since Thranduil tried to have her executed for spying, of course," she remarked casually, shutting her eyes and sipping at her tea.

Maerwyn could recognize the bait a mile away, and thankfully she still had the presence of mind not to take it. Instead she raised her own teacup, then shrugged as casually as if the redhead had made some passing comment on the weather. "And you were so helpful in that, weren't you Carlin? I remember you bravely standing up for me in the face of all that injustice, helping me escape under cover of night at the risk of your own life...oh no, wait." Her eyes flashed as she stared across the table at the elf. "That was your brother, wasn't it? That right, now I remember...you were too busy kissing Thranduil's ass to say one word in my defense, even though you know it was all bullshit. How noble of you, milady."

"Oh dear," Emlin sighed, looking first at Havus then Orin. "Those two never did get on very well. Part of it is my fault. I never should have let Carlin go east and join the king's guards. I always knew there was a chance she and Maerwyn would cross paths again--we always did hear of her crossings through the woods, the dear girl does make such an impression on people--but I was so sure Thilion would be able to keep her under control if they did happen to meet." She nibbled a bit of toast daintily and watched as Carlin and Maerwyn continued lobbing passive-agressive jabs at one another over the table. "Still, I'm glad everything worked out for her in the end. It's been so long since we'd heard anything I was beginning to think the worst had happened."

"Don't worry Em, I'm perfectly fine," Maerwyn replied, turning her attention fully on the blonde elf. "I'll admit I had to get a bit more...creative whenever I've traveled through the forest, but no guard has caught me yet." She said these last words with a grin, but there was a strange kind of sadness in her eyes as she spoke them. It wasn't entirely true; there had been one last encounter with a guard almost two years ago, well outside of Thranduil's territory. She wanted to ask the elves at the table what had happened to him, why wasn't he with them now? But she'd be damned if she dared ask about Thilion in front of Carlin, and she definitely couldn't ask in front of Orin.

Swallowing her tea, the mercenary glanced over at her employer to gauge his reaction to the sisters. He certainly hadn't seemed to enjoy Emlin's rather exuberant greeting, which made her smile a little. Of all the elves in the world the blonde across the table was the only one Maerwyn could say she honestly did like, even if it was only just a little. There was so much love and kindness in Emlin's heart, even if there wasn't enough good judgment or practicality, and if she had come to Havus and Lorryn's alone the woman might have even been truly happy to see her. But Carlin was another story. Sharp-tongued, sarcastic, quick to start a fight and point out flaws in others, Maerwyn never could stand the redhead and she'd meant it on their last parting when she said she'd hoped they'd never see each other again.

If she had one thing in her favor though, Maerwyn had to admit Carlin knew how to keep her mouth shut when it came to non-essential chatter (of course, her insults and snide comments were completely essential in her own opinion). While the redhead returned to her breakfast after tiring of her argument with the mortal, Emlin on the other hand felt it necessary to explain the sisters' history with the human to the others at the table.

"You see, Auntie," she explained to Havus, gesturing over towards Maerwyn. "This sweet girl is...well, not part of our family by blood, but certainly in spirit."

"She was our pet, more or less," Carlin added, lip twitching at the hint of a smirk before a glare from the mercenary made her turn away.

Maerwyn was quick to intervene on their own behalf. "I am no one's pet. Not even yours, Em," she warned, fingers clenching into fists.

Emlin reached over and gently laid a hand on hers. "No one's saying that, tuilin. Ignore Carlin, you know how she gets," she said with a squeeze, then looked back at the others. "Anyway, our Maerwyn was just a little slip of a thing when we found her in the woods. By 'we' I mean Carlin, our brother Thilion, and myself," the elf elaborated to Orin. She didn't bother to look towards the subject of her story, whose face had gone rather colorless, and whose tongue was too heavy in her mouth to tell Emlin to shut up.

So the blonde continued on. "Orcs had attacked her home, poor dear. Burned the whole place to the ground and killed her mother. Her father and brothers were all away, and this girl--you were no more than what was it, Maerwyn? Ten?--ten years old had fled into the woods all alone and managed to survive for days without anyone to look after her. How you managed it, dear heart, I'll never know," she sighed, shaking her head before looking back at the dwarves. "But Thilion insisted we take her in and nurse her back to health, then once she was well he took her right on his back and set out to return her to her proper people."

Now the human woman's face was burning and she didn't dare look up at anyone, feeling more humiliated than ever. And still Emlin went on! "Well, as I understand it, when they finally did find her father and brothers--All still well I hope, Maerwyn?--then this silly thing decides she would prefer to remain with us! Thilion tried to leave her behind, but she followed after him all the same, saying if she found us on her own once, she could do it again," Emlin laughed. "So we did take her back, for a while. But you know how children are, don't you Havus? Sooner or later they want to get out on their own in the world. And eventually our little tuilin did spread her wings and fly away, and I haven't seen her since."

Finally the blonde looked back towards Maerwyn, giving her a little pout. "I was always so jealous that Thilion and Carlin got to see you again, and I never did."

Looking up, the woman offered her a grim smile back. "Well Em, you were never around to throw me in a dungeon. Three times," she shot a pointed look over towards Carlin. "Besides, I'm sure your family has kept you busy enough. How's your husband, and your children?"

This was enough to send the elf onto another long story, this time about her own brood, while the woman looked sheepishly over towards Orin. She couldn't help but wonder what he would make of her whole story, and she wished she could have had the chance to discuss it with him privately, rather than in front of this crowd of strangers and friends alike. Of course there was nothing factually incorrect with the way Emlin had told things, but still, she could have done without the hints regarding her father and brothers, and she certainly wouldn't have chosen to bring up Thilion's name.

But why? she had to ask herself. Why was she so hestitant to think about Thilion while she was with Orin? Certainly her feelings for the one were complete opposite from the other. Thilion...he had been her entire world for years. If she had never met him, she knew she never would have been a mercenary. Weapons met nothing to her without Thilion to teach her how to use them. There was no point in wandering the woods unless there was a chance of finding him waiting for her beneath some tree. And yet no matter how hard she had tried, no matter how strong she got in his eyes, she was still that same crying child he'd found hiding in the woods.

Orin would never think of her like that. He probably had his own complaints about the woman, but at least he saw her as just that: a woman. Last night had proven that to her after all. And Maerwyn saw him as a man, but it was more than that. He was all those things she had said to Havus the night before, and probably a few more things she didn't dare speak aloud to herself. Because if she did, what did that make her all-consuming love for Thilion? The love that had molded her in the person she was today? Was it really just a childish infatuation in the end?

Her head was beginning to pound again, and she quickly accepted a second cup of tea, hoping it would abate so she and Orin could be on their way as soon as possible.

 

[Traveler]

Orin choked on his muffin. Executed for spying‽ He felt a firm thump on his back, dislodging the morsel, and realized that Lorryn was at his side. He stared at Maerwyn, wondering what other secrets she might have. The friction between Carlin and his guide was hot enough to start a fire, but thankfully Emlin was there to quench it. And then the realization came that the sisters had a brother, and the way Maerwyn said the word 'brother' stood out to him.

A brother. Why did that word make him uncomfortable?

Thankfully, Emlin was happy to fill in the voids. Orin stared at his plate as he listened, eating slowly and deliberately to not miss a word. The flippant attitude that the elf girls had - not knowing if Maerwyn was alive or dead and not bothering to find out - bothered the dwarf. He grumbled to his plate. What kind of friend was ‘just glad everything worked out in the end,' and didn't seek to find their friend?

No wonder she didn’t want to wander too close into the elven woods. She had taken a great chance in helping Orin find his mother. She could have gone back to prison. He raised his eyes and looked at her in time to catch the sadness flicker across her eyes at the claim that no guard had caught her...yet. He saw her look up at him and catch him staring back, and flushed.

"She was our pet, more or less," Carlin added.

Orin frowned deeper. He decided he did not like the redhead. If they were all on a boat, and one person had to be thrown off, it would be her. And then the name; Thilion, the brother had a name. He glanced at his guide and saw the color drain from her cheeks. Thilion…her secret had a name, and that name had risked his life to save her.

“But you know how children are, don't you Havus? Sooner or later they want to get out on their own in the world. And eventually our little tuilin did spread her wings and fly away, and I haven't seen her since." Emlin had laughed kindly, but the word she called Maerwyn, ‘thuilin’, stood out. What did that even mean? Was it a kind word, or another name for 'pet'?

Lorryn passed the aforementioned draught to Maerwyn, saying nothing lest she refuse. He watched her carefully to see if she would drink the elixer and be freed of her pain. He had seen the agony in her eyes, and though it was something he mildly enjoyed, he pitied the girl after her grueling from the sisters. It was enough to drive a girl to drink, if she hadn't already had enough.

“What does ‘thuilin’ mean?” Orin finally asked. He had slid his plate away after hearing their brother’s name. He wanted to ask more about the absent fellow, but felt it might be inappropriate. Considering. What if Thilion had been missing a while, and they were hoping that it would ‘just work out in the end,' and he would return?

He grimaced. “Do I understand correctly? Carlin – you helped throw Maerwyn in a dungeon three times‽ Who does that to their friend?” No wonder she hated caves.

“Now Orin, don’t be rude,” Havus said, though a glare from Lorryn kept her from saying more.

“No really – “ Orin continued. He had been brooding on it for a while, and he was feeling grumpy. “She disappears for how long? Ten years? Four? And you’re glad everything worked out for her? You were beginning to think that the worst had happened, but you never went to check? I’d rather have no friends than ones who would sit idly by while I rotted in a dungeon or...worse. Sheesh. No wonder everyone hates elves.”

He glanced at Emlin. “Except you. You’re okay,” he said, then looked at Lorryn, “and you saved us from the spiders, so you’re okay too,” his eyes feel to Carlin. “But you, I have a problem with.”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Lorryn could have put poison in front of her and Maerwyn would have downed the whole thing. She half-hoped it was, and during the brief moment when she felt her headache evaporating, she stared suspiciously at him just in case he really had given her something dangerous. But no, it was a mild sedative at best, and while it kept her from reaching across the table and grabbing Carlin by her skinny white throat, it still didn't do much to quiet the rage and shame in her heart.

Meanwhile, Emlin just continued right on talking, pausing only to giggle a little at Orin's question about her nickname for the woman. "Tuilin, dear," she corrected gently, although her pronounciation was almost indistinguishable from his. "It's little term of endearment. You see, I always thought of Maerwyn as another little sister. So naturally, she had to have a '-lin' name to fit in with the rest of us. You see, an 'emlin'--" she paused to lay a hand on her bosom, indicating herself. "--is a yellow bird that lives near our home a few days north of here. It sings beautifully--"

"Very early in the morning, and good luck getting it to shut up," Carlin muttered, but her sister didn't seem to hear the comment as she continued on.

"And a carlin is a red bird that lives in the same area," the blonde gestured towards the elf of the same name. "Very pretty little things, but incredibly fierce."

Maerwyn snorted. "Not above picking fights with other birds smaller than them, or throwing their eggs out of the next and taking over when no one's looking." This earned a sharp glare from the redhead, but again, Emlin was too lost in her own lecture to notice.

"And a tuilin is a sweet little brown bird." Smiling, she reached over to touch Maerwyn's chestnut-colored braid. "And amusingly enough, it only lives in the woods in summer. When the weather gets cold it flies south of the white mountains to nest in the barns and attics of Gondor. But when it gets too warm again, it always come back north, usually back to the very same tree year after year."

If the blonde elf had hoped her explanation would soothe the growing annoyance on Orin's face, she was sorely mistaken. In fact, she seemed more than a little surprised as he turned his attacks towards Carlin. While she shared some of his sentiments, particularly in the way her sister had treated Maerwyn over the years, this didn't seem like the time or the place to bring them up. For once she had absolutely nothing to say, and instead looked helplessly towards Havus.

But Carlin was ready for his attacks, and only looked back at him coolly. "Funny, you speak about her as though you've known her as long as we have. Maerwyn, how come you never told us about your brave champion before?" She leaned back in her chair slightly. "If you're not careful, you're going to make all the other thieves and outlaws you take to bed jealous."

A low growling noise seemed to gurgle up from the woman's throat. "Carlin, stop it, now," she warned, glaring not only towards her but to Orin as well.

"Let me guess, could it be because, as you said, the young master here is 'just a job'?" Carlin continued, smirking a little. "So I'm guessing you don't really know anything about her, is that right? Well, let me elaborate on a few things about narlam here--and before you ask, here's the translation: narlam means 'fire-tongue.' One guess on how she got that name."

Now Emlin was even beginning to intervene, albeit weakly. "Carlin, I really think you shouldn't..."

"No, he deserves to know!" the redhead snapped, her voice growing steadily louder. "She's not some child that doesn't know right from wrong. You saw to that yourself, didn't you, Em? You taught her it was wrong to steal. But what did she do the first time Thranduil allowed her to visit his court? She steals his dead wife's bracelet! And when the king shows her mercy, allowing her to leave with her life under the condition she never come back, what did she do then? She fucking comes back." Carlin turned her flashing eyes on Maerwyn. "You deserved every time you were locked up. All you had to do was stay away, but you didn't, did you?"

There was no disguising Carlin's anger now. "Emlin, did Maerwyn ever once come visit you or the children? Even though she knew where you were?"

"Well...no..." her sister said slowly, fresh hurt springing into her eyes as she looked at the human. That look pierced Maerwyn more than any of Carlin's words ever could, and after only a moment she had to look away.

"No, of course she didn't," the redhead continued. "We both know why she kept coming into Thranduil's territory. We know what she wanted. Who she wanted." Calming herself somewhat, Carlin turned her attention back towards Orin. "So just to clarify, young master, she is not my friend. And if I could throw her in a dungeon right now I would, for all the good it would do. You're welcome to dislike me for that; I imagine it won't bother my sleep too much if I have to go on without your regard. But don't ever assume she's better than me." She shot one more pointed glare at Maerwyn for good measure. "She's a thief and a harlot, and that's all she'll ever be."

"That's enough," Maerwyn said finally, rising to her feet. Her knuckles and face were both white, but her tone was curiously calm. Thank the stars for whatever Lorryn had given her, that was the only thing keeping her from screaming. "Orin, I'm going to go pack our things. I'll wait for you outside. Madam, thank you for your hospitality," she bowed first in Havus' direction, then Lorryn's. "Sir," was all she said to him, but then her eyes fell on Emlin. The blonde smiled at her, but still couldn't seem to find words to say.

"Em...I'm sorry," was all the woman managed to whisper before disappearing back into the corridor as she retreated to the guest room.

Only once she was gone did Emlin find the courage to speak. "Ah...well then. Auntie, could I trouble you for another cup of tea?" she asked timidly.

 

[Traveler]

It seemed that tuilin was a good word, and Orin found himself glad for it. Tuilin, Carlin, Emlin, they were all named for little birds and all named for their prospective differences. He actually found himself smiling at the idea that Maerwyn always came back to the same tree, even if he was beginning to get the idea that the tree was a ‘he’, and he wasn’t five feet tall.

"If you're not careful, you're going to make all the other thieves and outlaws you take to bed jealous." The haughty elven woman leaned back, confidence written all over her face. Then she went on, guessing Orin’s source of pain, and then accusing him of not knowing anything about her. Which, for the most part, was true. And he could not argue with the other nickname she had. Fire-tongue was appropriate, though he had a reason for thinking so that he was quite certain Carlin did not.

It seemed that elves could fight as fiercely as dwarves when it came to family dynamics, and Orin found himself watching two spit-fire elves and their ‘adopted’ human sister in an eye-opening spat about his guide, the thief. Every little bit of truth revealed exposed more of Maerwyn’s nature. The thief who didn’t understand the word ‘no’. The girl who didn’t listen to the order to ‘go’. She kept coming back, and apparently it wasn’t to see the girls. Or their children.

‘Huh,’ Orin’s mind began to click.

"We both know why she kept coming into Thranduil's territory. We know what she wanted. Who she wanted." Carlin’s voice, though melodic, was poison. "So just to clarify, young master, she is not my friend. And if I could throw her in a dungeon right now I would, for all the good it would do. You're welcome to dislike me for that; I imagine it won't bother my sleep too much if I have to go on without your regard. But don't ever assume she's better than me." She shot one more pointed glare at Maerwyn for good measure. "She's a thief and a harlot, and that's all she'll ever be."

Orin stilled. There was something else underlying all this. Some kind of jealousy? But surely – Carlin was Thilion’s sister...she could not be jealous of...Oh. He saw the hatred in the girl’s eyes. The anger and hurt, the betrayal.

Oh.

He heard Maerwyn excuse herself, but he kept his eyes on the red headed elf. Carlin wasn’t saying that she was angry because he had said that Maerwyn was better than she. She was angry because Maerwyn picked Thilion over Carlin.

“You don’t hate her. You love her,” he said quietly to the redhead, ignoring the calmer sister’s request for tea. His eyes bore into the redhead’s glare, but they were not unkind.

“You’re mad because Maerwyn is in love with Thilion instead of you.” His furrowed brow softened. “It must be…terribly painful…” he said, his shoulders relaxing and his breath growing soft, “to know that she would risk her life, over and over again, for someone who didn’t love her back…when all these years you loved her so fiercely.” He swallowed through the sadness he felt for the elder younger sister.

“You have to tell her,” he insisted. “You can’t let her walk out of here without knowing. You might never see her again, ever. And that’s a long time to hold onto regret.”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Carlin looked utterly taken aback at Orin's accusation, and even Emlin's placid face had to look up in surprise at the statement. The redhead had gone utterly white except for two small red spots in her high, aristocratic cheekbones, and her eyes seemed to burn with fresh fire, even as her brows knit together in suspicion.

"How dare you?" she snapped finally, taking her own opportunity to rise to her feet and slam her hands against the table. "You don't know me, and you certainly don't know my heart."

Oh, but did he? As Emlin watched her sister arguing with the dwarf, certain things were beginning to fall into place. The fact that Carlin had never married, despite being old enough and beautiful enough to attract even the eyes of the Galadhrim far to the south (and, rumor had it, even the eyes of Thranduil himself). The fact that she only went to join the king's guard after Thilion had told her about crossing paths with Maerwyn that first time. The way she always watched for the tuilin to come back in the summer, even though the two-legged incarnation had never again crossed the threshold of the home they had all shared years ago.

"I love my brother," Carlin had continued hotly. "And I will never forgive Maerwyn for driving him out of this world. Tell her that for me, will you?" She was crossing the room now, gathering her own things and clearly getting ready to leave. "The only way Thilion could free himself of her endless advances was by taking the ship to the West. Tell her that. Tell her she'll never see him again, or me either for that matter." Buckling her sword belt on her hips, she slung her longbow over one shoulder and turned to face her sister. "Emlin, you can handle the rest of our business here. I need to return to the King's Halls."

"Oh Carlin, you can't mean to leave already!" the blonde protested, getting up and ready to hold her sister back physically if necessary. But Emlin knew the look in the redhead's eyes all too well. There would be no fighting her on this.

Instead the younger sister kissed Havus' cheek again and made another bow towards Orin. "I'm sorry to have caused such trouble," she apologized, in much calmer tones now although there was still clear emotion on her face. For one brief moment the elf looked past them all towards the corridor where Maerwyn had fled, but she did not follow the woman. Instead she made a few more quiet farewells, then vanished up the stone staircase.

"Dear me," Emlin sighed, sitting back down. "You never could keep those two in one room together very long. Thilion always said it was because they were so much alike that they always fought. But they do care for one another, I'm sure of it." To what extent she couldn't be quite sure, but even if it was the way Orin had implied, Carlin had the right to handle her heart however she felt was best. And besides, the blonde wasn't totally convinced her sister would really choose to never see Maerwyn again. Best to let her cool off for now.

"Anyway, Auntie, I assure you that Carlin and I didn't come with the intention of causing such a row in your house," she said, looking back at Havus. "We really came to tell you that Thranduil has granted permission for both you and Lorryn to come and stay with us while he dispatches more hunting parties to clear out the spiders. They're really getting awful, aren't they? We must have killed at least three dozen on our way through the forest last night. Nasty creatures." The elf shivered a moment, then reached out and laid a hand on the dwarf woman's wrist. "You will come, won't you? I'd be happy to help carry anything you want to bring with. And I'm sure if I hurry I can catch Carlin and make her help too. Although..."

Turning, she looked back towards Orin with a tilted head. "Would you care to come with us as well, Orin? I know Thranduil didn't explicitly invite you as well, but I'm sure that was only because he didn't know you were here. You could help bring some of Havus and Lorryn's things, and once we get everyone settled in I'll send word to Carlin and I'm sure she can arrange matters. Besides, it'll give the two of you a chance to get to know one another in better circumstances." A soft, slightly embarrassed laugh tumbled over the elf's lips. "I promise she's not usually so cantankerous. Well, not all the time at least. She's just had a hard time since Thilion went away. She absolutely idolized him, you know. We all did. But ever since he's been gone I'm sure she must have been terribly lonely. I think though that maybe with some more guests in our house she'd come by more often, and that would do her a world of good."

Emlin looked hopefully back towards Havus. "Please say you'll come, Auntie. I've even arranged quarters for you at the very bottom of the tree, no stairs necessary. I know how heights trouble you..."

 

[Traveler]

What the fiery redhead had said was true. He did not know her, he barely knew Maerwyn, and he was just beginning to figure his own self out, after fifty years of drawing breath. People were a mystery to him. The things he thought he knew, the signs he thought he had read from Dís, where all lies. They were pretty stories he told his heart, and they led to the fool’s errand he had sworn himself to bear.

Then Carlin spoke of Thilion’s departure and his reason why. The dwarf had always despised the tale of Valinor. It seemed too much like giving up. Why go through a door that could never be reopened? Why leave behind those who loved you, or who might need you, and think of only yourself?

Carlin unleashed her brother’s location on them like a death knell. “Tell her she'll never see him again, or me either for that matter." Buckling her sword belt on her hips, she slung her longbow over one shoulder and turned to face her sister. "Emlin, you can handle the rest of our business here. I need to return to the King's Halls."

“And then what?” asked Orin. “Are you going to run away too? Because you can’t bear to take a chance on someone you might lose?” He glared at her as she kissed his mother and glanced towards the darkness that took Maerwyn from the room. His heart clenched with the possibility that she would walk down that corridor and tell her. Confess her heart, but instead she took her leave. He wanted to run after her, grab her by her thin shoulders, and shake some sense into her narrow, elven brain.

Emlin’s apologies drew his eyes. He smiled and shook his head. “I own blame too, Daughter of Varda.”

Lorryn’s gaze flickered to the lad. He watched the elder sister softly as she returned to speaking to Havus about her reasons for her visit. He raised a brow at the mention of the king’s decision; they had not always seen eye to eye, and to most of the Woodland elves considered him only one step removed from Melkor’s orcs. The idea intrigued him; hunting side by side again with others of his skill and having a shared goal. He and Havus had played house for nearly forty years, her enthusiasm for the road dispersed when she visited Orin and bade him find her here. It seemed she had put their lives on hold, afraid to be away should he come calling. He was here now. There was no reason to continue in their dormant state.

As Emlin turned to Orin and asked him to come as well, Havus’s eyes lit up. “Yes, you must come, Orin! It will be wonderful. I can show you all the amazing parts of the kingdom, we can hunt together, mother and son – just think of how wondrous it will be!” Her heart swelled with pride at the handsome young dwarf he’d become, and the thought of finally fighting beside him lit her adventurer’s fire.

Emlin looked hopefully back towards Havus. "Please say you'll come, Auntie. I've even arranged quarters for you at the very bottom of the tree, no stairs necessary. I know how heights trouble you..."

“Of course, we’ll come,” she answered. “We’ll all come, and Orin too. It’s an honor to be invited by Thranduil.” She looked to Lorryn and he inclined his chin. He would come and add his arrows to theirs, to drive back the scourge that had threatened their forest.

“I’m not going,” Orin quietly replied. At the questioning looks from the women he explained. “Maerwyn is not welcome, is she?”

Emlin’s eyes turned in sorrow, and she shook her head. If the thief set foot in the forest she would not received the luxury of prison. The ire of their king had passed beyond forgiveness for the human. Only death would await her there.

“If she can’t go, I won’t go,” he decided. He stood and walked over to his mother, for once being the one to initiate the hug. “I love you,” he said. “I don’t like everything you did, but I still love you, and I hope we meet again.” He turned to Emin, “And I wish you nothing but the best. You’ve been kind despite the circumstances,” his eyes finally rested on his mother’s husband. “Lorryn.” What else could he say to the man she loved more than her children? And yet, because of that pale elf, who loved the dark, Orin and his siblings existed. Had Lorryn not allowed her to leave, they would never had been born.

“I’ll pack you some traveling food,” Havus said as she wiped at her eyes with the corner of her apron. “It’s days before the next tavern.” If they made it to the road. She packed enough for several days, then tucked a round leather-wrapped pouch into his hand. “For the road,” she sniffled. As Orin hefted his weighty pack he was surprised to be approached by her husband. The tall elf narrowed his eyes, looking as if he was reconsidering what he was offering.

“For your guide,” he finally stated, handing the quiver full to Orin. Ten arrows with six-fletchings each, sturdy and straight. Lorryn turned the quiver to display the tips; all for different purposes. He reversed his grip and showed Orin the small grooves near the fletching base. “Each is unique. She can learn them, use them when needed. A gift,” he explained, “to use to keep you safe.” Lorryn’s hand, much stronger than it looked, clamped on the dwarf’s shoulder as he gazed down at him. “We will see you again.”

When Orin made it up the stairs he felt like he sun was brighter than he remembered. He shielded his eyes and stumbled out of the stair well, reluctant to open the door and see the glare beyond. “Maerwyn?” He called, reaching for the handle. “Let’s go – “ he pulled the door, then realized it didn’t swing that way. He remembered the Gilded Lantern and shook his head. Did everyone put their doors in backwards, or was it only he? “We’re done here,” he said, stepping out of the house. “I’m ready to see something new.”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

For the first time that morning, Emlin clapped her hands in pure, unadulterated joy when Havus accepted her offer. "Dearest Nanleth, you have made me so happy! And Carlin too, even if she isn't here to show it. But once she hears you're coming, I just know she'll come back and stay for a while as well. And the children! They ask about you constantly. Eirien is expecting a baby in the fall, did I tell you that? Imagine, me a grandmother!"

Her smile quickly froze though at Orin's question about his guide. "Maerwyn?" the elf repeated slowly, a small spark of hesitance alighting in her eyes. "Well...technically speaking...no. Thranduil did banish her from the realm under penalty of death. But perhaps he'd make an exception...if she even wanted to come." Now the smile was gone as the blonde realized the outcome. Carlin was right, if the mortal woman had wanted to see Emlin or her family, she could have come at any time, even before the ban. And even after, she might have attempted the venture. Maerwyn had to know they would have protected her, and it wasn't likely that she'd even be caught in the first place. The House of Harthion was a long way from Thranduil's Halls, and the king's people rarely called on its inhabitants. Surely the mercenary had paid visits to places much more dangerous than the home of her late girlhood. The truth was, she really didn't want to see it again, and judging by how she had reacted today, she probably hadn't wanted to see Emlin or Carlin either.

The elf couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment, but something in Orin's voice made her take a closer look at him. Even hearing what Carlin had said about his guide, the dwarf's loyalty to the woman was striking, and Emlin couldn't help but nod slightly in approval at it. This was the kind of person Maerwyn deserved to have at her side, she thought. Not Thilion with his cowardice, or Carlin with her jealousy, or the dozens of stupid mortal men who looked at her without ever seeing more than a warm body or a sharp blade.

Reaching over, she squeezed Havus' hand and whispered in her ear, "You have a wonderful son, nanleth." Standing up, she approached Orin slowly, then gave him a bow at least as deep as the one she had given Lorryn (possibly a little more). "Orin, son of Havus, you have my blessing," Emlin stated, straightening and clasping her hands in front of her. "If an elf may ask a favor of a dwarf, I would ask this of you: please look after Maerwyn. She is difficult I know, but she is also loved, even if she doesn't know it." Reaching around her neck, she removed a small pendant on a chain and held it out towards the younger dwarf. "In return, I offer you this. If you ever need assistance from the silvan elves of Mirkwood, show that stone to them, and they will send word to our family."

As she handed it to Orin, Emlin couldn't help but glance towards Havus. No doubt she would recognize the polished bit of jasper that her mother had carried with her on her many journies. Nellariel had given it to her eldest daughter before leaving Middle Earth, with the intention Emlin would give it to her own daughter one day. But this...this seemed like a better use for it now.

Down in the guestroom, Maerwyn had made short work of packing both her and Orin's bags. After all, they hadn't exactly bothered to unpack the night before, what with the other activities occupying their time. But she did fully arm herself, and even went so far as to tie on her red scarf and cloak. Between the two her face was almost entirely concealed, which was exactly what she would need whenever Orin entered the room. His own bag was packed and ready as well, but when he walked in the door...would he even pick it up?

Or would he tell her he'd decided to stay, wanting to reconnect with his mother and start fresh? Maerwyn certainly couldn't blame him if that was the case. But something about parting with him so soon hurt. Badly. She wasn't afraid of dealing with the forest on her own of course, and while she had to admit it was annoying to end a job while she was in the middle of nowhere, it certainly wasn't the worst possible outcome. It was letting go of Orin now, before she was ready. They were a long way yet from the Gladden fields, possibly even farther than she might have guessed considering the detour from the previous day. If her employer wanted to go on with his journey there would be plenty of time to prepare herself for their parting, but if this was the end...

“Maerwyn? Let’s go. “

She shouldn't have been able to hear him calling her from so far away, but somehow she did, and suddenly the cavernous room seemed filled with sunlight. Grabbing their bags, Maerwyn all but ran outside, only pausing to incline her head towards the two elves and the dwarf as she passed them in the main room. Of the three only Emlin really seemed to see her, and although it was brief the woman thought she saw the elf smile as she made her escape.

Outside Orin was blinking in the sunlight, waiting for her. Maerwyn's heart picked up a curious rhythm as she handed him his heavy pack, which had somehow felt impossibly light while she was carrying it. "Are you sure this is what you want?" she found herself asking, even though part of her cursed herself for speaking the words. What if he changed his mind? What if he wanted her to go on without him? But if staying with his mother was what he wanted, how could she force him to leave? "You barely got to spend any time with her. I'll admit, it was unfortunate having Em and Carlin make an appearance," the mercenary laughed awkwardly. "But you shouldn't let that stop you if you want to stay."

Swallowing hard, she took a few steps forward then glanced back over her shoulder at the dwarf. "I'll understand, you know. And I'll be all right on my own. Although...you will have to pay me now if this is the end of everything." She smiled slightly behind her scarf, but even if her mouth wasn't hidden it would have been unconvincing, and she quickly turned away again.

 

[Traveler]

Emlin’s gesture, and the gift she gave him, made his throat catch. He didn’t know what to say, and had nodded mutely in understanding. Somehow he knew that having an advocate in the Mirkwoods and among the silvan who lived there, was a precious gift indeed. He fingered the amulet in the sun, seeing the tiny sparkles in the gem. It was lovely and ancient craftsmanship, probably older than even Lorryn. Older perhaps, than most of the trees around them now.

He heard Maerwyn’s footsteps on the stairs and realized that he had completely walked away without his pack. How she carried it so far, so fast, was beyond his knowledge. Perhaps it was simply her zeal to be away from the place that had caused her so much pain. Or perhaps it was simply that, compared to the burden she had been carrying inside, it was light.

He tucked the amulet under his shirt and accepted his bag from his guide. “Yeah,” he answered as he slid his arms through the straps. “I’m sure.” He fastened the strap before his chest, and slid his axe in It’s sheath.

“I don’t want to stay,” he said, starting to walk in a different direction from which they had arrived. “Besides, they’re going to Thranduil’s lands, to help with the spiders. I think that Mom and Lorryn are excited to be doing something adventurous again, and we’ve got our own things to do.” He smiled at her but saw her hiding behind her scarf and hood. “I’ll see her again, if not in this life then in the next.” He hurried his pace to catch up with the long-legged human girl.

She kept going on, and on, and he finally took her arm and stopped her. “Maerwyn, what—?” he paused. She must have been afraid that he was going to stiff her; leave without paying for her services. That had to be it. She was scared of being unpaid…He started to dig in his pouch.

Then he remembered the quiver of arrows in his hand and looked up, handing them to her. “These are for you,” he said, holding them much like a young man might hold a bouquet out to his sweetheart. “Lorryn made them for you. Says they’re all different, and they have grooves near the feather things so you can feel which ones they are if you need, a guess, a different tip? I dunno.”

Once his hands were free he dug into his pouch again, and pulled out a smaller drawstring one and held it out as well. “A year. I calculated that, worse case scenario, it would take us a year to get to my destination and back. It’s not all coins; there are some gems in there and such, but I committed to hiring you for the year.” He held it closer to her. “Take it Maerwyn. I have exclusive rights to your services for the entire year, and I don’t want to hear any more about me breaking our contract or leaving.”

“Now,” he said, once the matter was settled. “Let’s see if we can get out of these forests without running into any spiders. How far away is the next town, anyway? We don’t have to ride another boat anytime soon, do we?”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Yeah. I'm sure. I don't want to stay."

As much as Maerwyn might have wanted to hide it, there was no concealing the relief that washed over her like a cleansing wave. There was more time. More time to listen to him sing and scratch along in that silly little book of his. More time to tease him about his naiveté, while letting him in on her favorite secrets of the wider world. More time to explore his body and take him underneath the stars (albeit it would probably be wisest to get out of the forest before she attempted that one). A soft sigh passed over her lips, and she roughly jerked down her scarf to let it escape, then turned back towards the dwarf with a much warmer smile.

Thankfully, the joy was quickly masked in her unfeigned surprise as her gaze fell on the bundle of arrows in Orin's hand. At a glance she could tell they were of elven make, and when she took them from him she could tell they were much lighter than what she was used to. Probably deadlier as well. But if she was surprised at the gift she was even more shocked at who the real give was. "Lorryn wanted me to have these? After I told him to go fuck himself?" the mercenary couldn't help but chuckled as she tucked the missiles into her own quiver. "I'll never understand elves."

She was about to turn away again when she saw Orin reaching into his bag and holding out another gift to her. Weeks ago, if he had offered her such a purse she would have accepted it without question, shrugged and gone on about her business. But now something made her hesitant in taking it.

"A year, hm?" the mercenary muttered, looking from the gold to his face for a moment. "You know it's only a few more weeks to the Gladden River, give or take any more incidents. Another week or two to Moria, if that's where you still intend to go. And assuming you do get your dagger or whatever it is you're looking for, it's not that long of a road back to the Lonely Mountain. I do have to advise you on going around the forest on the return trip though, considering all that's happened."

Maerwyn smiled at him again, then turned her back on him without taking the money. "But if you insist on a year, Master Dwarf, a year you shall have. I'm not so foolish as to walk away from certain wages in search of uncertain ones. For now though, I think I'll let you carry the coin, strong as you are. I sincerely doubt you'd get very far if you tried to run off with it anyway. And if you do have the madness to make such an attempt, I assure you I will find you." There was an edge of humor on the words, but plenty of gentle warmth in her voice.

As they strolled away from the house though, she soon found herself glancing hesitantly again over in Orin's direction. "Do you still intend to go to Moria? " she asked gently, wondering why he would keep Dís waiting for an entire year if he still meant to present her with his gift. The mercenary sincerely doubted he still intended to marry her at this point, but perhaps there were still bonds of honor between the dwarves that Maerwyn couldn't fully understand.

It was all quite stupid really, in her opinion, and if she had her way she would have suggested they set their path for...well, anywhere really. Probably somewhere still relatively north, considering it was still early summer and it would be getting hotter in the south before the temperatures finally started cooling into her preferred ranges. The Misty Mountains would be busy this time of year, but the weather would be with them at least if they wanted to dare the crossing. First thing was first though, they needed to clear the woods.

When they passed by the foot of a likely-looking tree, Maerwyn halted their progress and looked upward a moment, then nodded. "Could you watch these for me?" she asked, slipping off her cloak and weapons before alighting on the lowest branch. "Just want to get our bearings...unless you'd care to take a look yourself?" The woman gave him a playful wink, assuming that like most dwarves Orin was averse to heights, then scampered up the tree until she had disappeared almost entirely from sight.

 

[Traveler]

Orin couldn’t understand elves either. There had been no reason, none at all, for Lorryn to have cared to make a gift for the human guide. The dwarf had no way of knowing that the elven ranger’s dark, tiny heart had been touched by her selflessness when they fought the spiders and he heard her urge her dwarven companion to save himself. Her words - "There's too many of them. You need to run, I can keep them busy, just go!"; her physically placing herself between Orin and the danger, had earned her the elf’s respect. And even though she’d been called out as both a harlot and a thief, he did not weigh those more than he weighed her loyalty.

She just looked at him. “A year, hm?” she asked.

“Yes, a year.” He couldn’t understand why she was trying to talk him out of it or arguing that it might not take them that long to traverse the route they needed. And then, when he thought she saw reason, she walked away from the money. He stood there for a moment, head quirked to one side and a brow raised, thinking ‘What just happened?’.

“I’m not running away,” he remarked as he trudged behind her and pocketed his pouch. Besides, he was beginning to learn how to appreciate the view of what laid before him. Or…strode before him.

“I don’t know where I’m going,” he admitted at her question. “Moria eventually. If I ever want to see the Lonely Mountains again that is…but it’s reasonably safe to say that Dís would be just as surprised to see me in fifty days or fifty years. There’s no rush,” he added, catching up to her and them matching her stride. “Besides, I have to learn a bit about orcs, now, don’t I? And who really owns the dagger, anyway? I mean, I was imagining it as a grand scavenger hunt with only one item on the list. Find the caves, traverse the caverns, maybe dodge a few inhabitants in the dark, and then I’d turn over the right rock and there it would be, just laying there and waiting for me to pick it up?” His statement turned into a question as he went over the steps in his head. If he only knew then what he knew now.

Imagine what he’d know in a year’s time!

He ruminated over these things, content to be walking at her side and going ‘thataway’, until she stopped by a tree and began to strip. Albeit, she stopped removing items after her cloak, bag, and weapons. That initial removed garment made Orin's heart skip. He watched her climbing and only after a moment realized she had asked him something.

“Oh, sure. I mean...about watching your things, not about climbing!” He scowled at the tree, then turned away from it to check their path for intruders. Occasionally he glanced upwards, trying to find her in the trees. Soon it seemed like it was growing much too quiet, so he stepped away from the trunk to try to peer between the branches, to no avail. He lifted a hand to the side of his mouth to call out, then thought not to do it lest an ogre happened to be nearby, or more of those spiders. Though this part of the woods was blissfully empty of spiders from what he could tell.

When she finally descended she had mapped their path, and during the better part of the week their days were filled with her occasionally scurrying up a tree like a human squirrel to assure they were still headed in the right direction, Maerwyn making sure they had fresh food to eat when it was available to hunt or scavenge, and evenings spent talking about where to go to next. It seemed they would travel past Moria, at least, so Orin could gaze up at the mountain range and note it’s location, but after that their plans were based loosely around traveling North to avoid the heat of the summer, and then, perhaps, when the weather cooled, to turn south.

Rather like a flock comprised of two birds. Or…one bird and a tortoise.

On the sixth day since they left the home of Orin’s mother, and as the sun began to crest the peak of day, it seemed wise to find a place to shelter for the night. Above them, the clouds were gathering for a late spring rain. For once, Orin was glad for the dense trees above them, though he missed the clear night in the meadows they had found when they could sit and practice reading the stars until it was time to trade sleep for their watches. “One place seems as good as another,” Orin fretted. The further away they traveled from the elven realm, the wilder the forest seemed. It would have been easy to imagine the suffocating closeness of the trees and underbrush as cavern walls, if the branches didn’t look so much like dark skeletal arms reaching out to grab them.

He paused to scratch his chin. “Do you…smell something off?”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

As Maerwyn had expected, their detour to Havus and Lorryn's home had brought them much farther north than she'd hoped, but when the mercenary reached the top of the tree she could see they'd at least made a fair amount of progress westward. And the morning was even clear enough that as she looked beyond the far-off edge of the treeline she could see the daunting gray walls of the Misty Mountains, rising up to take a bite out of the pale blue sky. A fresh thrill seemed to run through her body at the idea of scaling those mountains again. Would Orin dare it? She had no doubt he was brave enough, but his balance might leave something to be desire.

Rope, we'll need more rope she thought to herself as she slid back down the tree. The question was: where to get it? While she certainly considered the Vales of the Anduin much more civilized than Mirkwood, there still weren't any real towns to speak of. But there were still a fair number of good-sized homesteads along the river where inhabitants would surely be willing to trade homemade goods for gold. Or if they got really lucky they might encounter one of the riverboats that traveled up and down the Anduin selling to the various woodmen they encountered.

First though, they needed to escape the forest.

Thankfully, there were no more encounters with spiders, elves, bandits, or even bad weather for the several days that followed. It was a bit warm, that was true but their water and rations held out well and once they had crossed the Enchanted River (unmistakable with its ominous black waters) Maerwyn was more willing to refill the skins when they did find likely-looking springs. The hunting was more scarce than the mercenary would have liked, but with Havus' rations and plenty of wild fruits and nuts in season they didn't need to worry about starving. In fact, Maerwyn had almost given up worrying at all, simply enjoying Orin's presence beside her and the sweet, ever-more-familiar sounds of the woods as they progressed westward.

When the Emin Duir was finally behind them, she had altered their course slightly southward, hoping to find the road and traverse the last day or two in the forest with a clear path. She was sure they would find the road that very afternoon, but then the smell hit her.

Something was burning.

Maerwyn had to shut her eyes for a moment. She remembered that same smell in the woods from that day so long ago. The smoke of her parents' burning house had penetrated deep into the trees, and she had run herself to exhaustion as she tried to outpace it, racing deeper and deeper into the woods until she was hopelessly lost. Now it was like she was stepping out of that day, but after climbing another tree, she could see the fire was coming not from the edge of the forest, but deeper within it, south of their current location.

If they were careful, they could turn their course due west and avoid the flames--and the ones who started them--entirely. But the smoke was coming from the long break in the trees that designated the road, and while there weren't any homes she knew of in the immediate vicinity, it was only day's march to at least one home Maerwyn would have rather seen unburnt. It might be too late to save whatever unfortunate party had been caught unawares on the Old Forest Road, but if she could help save others from her own cruel fate...

"Come on," she whispered to Orin, moving with lighter steps in the direction of the fire. "Be very careful and make as little sound as possible. We'll most likely be outnumbered." Taking one of her red-fletched arrows, she nocked it to her bow and began to move almost silently onward without elaborating what might be outnumbering them.

She didn't need to say it aloud. When they reached the steep embankment leading down the road, all of Maerwyn's fears were confirmed. A bonfire had been built in the very middle of the road, and a dozen orcs dressed in bones and fur were busy putting an end to a small party of merchants. The woman's heart fell as she saw not one man had survived, although there were still two frightened horses tied to a nearby tree. Three orcs nearest to them seemed to be arguing (as best as she could tell) about whether the mounts should be eaten or used for transport, and if the latter who would have the chance to ride them.

In the meantime, the rest of the filth was busy stripping the merchants' baggage and bodies for valuables. Once the latter were completely naked, they were tossed callously into a slipshod pile that was perhaps six individuals high, not counting the poor soul that had been sprawled out across a particularly big orc's lap. Every few moments there was a sickening chunk as the butcher began to cut up the bodies in preparation for the fire, where a few of his comrades were already roasting limbs over the tall red flames. The smell of orc bodies, human blood, and cooking meat was enough to almost make Maerwyn vomit, but by some strength (or perhaps it was rage) inside her she managed to keep her stomach.

"Twelve of them. Raiders from Dol Goldur, most likely. The Moria filth wear real armor, but the Necromancer always gives his creatures bones," she whispered to Orin as they concealed themselves behind a particularly thick tree. "We have to finish them, otherwise they'll go for the river next. They aren't quick, but they're strong. Can you help me?" As Maerwyn locked her eyes with the dwarf's, there was no question in them that she had to slaughter as many of the beasts as she possibly could. But she didn't have to put her employer in danger, though she doubted Orin had the character to witness the scene and simply walk away from it.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, the mercenary aimed her arrow at the orc that was butchering the corpses. "Say the word when you're ready," she whispered again, ready to send the missile deep into the monster's skull.

 

[Traveler]

At first he thought she meant to avoid the source of the smell, though to Orin’s nose, who had never witnessed a house burning first-hand, it smelled a lot like a campfire roast. Then when she urged him to be careful and quiet, he thought she meant to steal some of their fare, but she added the sentence about being outnumbered, and he quietly pulled his axe into his hands. Though he didn’t know how quiet she expected a dwarf to be. He wasn’t made for sneaking; his boots were made for stomping.

The mayhem before them was stomach-churning; he narrowed his eyes as he drank in the evil deeds before them. Not only had the creatures killed the traveling merchants, but now they were cutting them apart and burning them, and not just for disposal. The beasts standing near the fire seemed to be roasting the human flesh until it was ready for consumption, and as he hid upon the embankment with Maerwyn, Orin wondered if this was what the rabbits felt when they watched his companion and himself roasting their kin for dinner.

They had to die.

The orcs, not the rabbits.

Maerwyn echoed his sentiments, describing them as strong, but not quick. Then asked, “Can you help me?” he turned to look at her, drowning slightly in her mahogany and moss eyes. He nodded once and turned back to view the scene. "Say the word when you're ready," she whispered.

Three orcs near the embankment to their left, holding two horses and arguing. One sitting by the fire and chopping the bodies into pieces, three by the fire to his right, five moving between the wagon and the fire, stripping bodies and going through the humans’ belongings. Easy…ish. At least these had spears, swords, and clubs. They were not like the sneaky Easterlings with their bows. Hand-to-hand, eye-to-eye; that was the proper way to fight, though he had seen the benefit between Maerwyn and Lorryn with killing from afar.

He steadied his sturdy heart and gripped the handle of his axe with both hands. “Ready,” he whispered, backed a few steps, and then ran for the edge to jump at the three near the horses. As he fell through the air, he arced his axe above his head, then swung at the two standing closest to the slope. He felt blade bite flesh and bone, felt the crumple of their bodies beneath his heavy boots, and heard the horses scream in terror as their reins were abruptly jerked down by the entangled arms of the stricken orcs.

“Sorry horse,” he thought, swinging at the third orc’s legs. He had only a moment of surprise before the others would be at his side.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

The last thing the orcs probably expected was to look up and see a dwarf, of all things, flying through the air at them with his axe swinging down like a reaper's scythe. Perhaps if they hadn't looked up at all their deaths might have been postponed, but as it was the two by the horses were quickly beyond the point of reconsidering their actions. Both heads went flying across the road, and if the screams of the horses weren't enough to draw the rest of the party's attention, that certainly was. Indeed, it was several moments before anyone noticed that a red arrow had pierced directly through Arzerf's left eye and lodged in his brain, leaving him slumped forward dead over the half-carved corpse in his lapse.

For a brief moment Maerwyn considered switching to her swords and following Orin into the fray, but she'd learned her lesson with the spiders. Today she had light and cover on her side, and the orcs were so occupied with the dwarf in their midst she was easily able to pick off another scoundrel who'd left his back open to the woods, though it took five well-aimed shots to ultimately bring him down. By then the monsters had realized the dwarf wasn't alone, and the remaining forces had split, with half continuing to circle towards Orin with their wicked black blades held high while they others began to scale the bank towards the archer.

Luckily the rain that had been threatening for most of the morning was now beginning to fall heavily, turning the slope to slick mud and making the orcs' trek upward all the more perilous. None appeared to have ranged weapons, although the one at the back had managed to hurl a small axe that nearly grazed Maerwyn's shoulder. She was continually falling back, zigzagging between the trees as she continued to fire, but they were closing in too quickly. Heart pounding, she reached back into her quiver and felt her fingertips brushing against a feather that didn't feel like one of the red ones.

Frowning a moment, the woman withdrew the dart and realized it was one of Lorryn's, with the strange six fletchings and a deep groove just underneath. The head was unusual as well, and if she'd had to time to look it straight on she would have noticed it seemed to resemble a star. But she could almost feel the orcs breathing on her now, so without another though Maerwyn drew her bow and fired the elf-shot. It wasn't her best draw, but all the same the arrow seemed to fly faster than any of her own and easily pierced through the nearest orc's bony chestplate. Then came the real astonishment.

A blinding white light seemed to fill the woods, and even though only a single orc had been shot all four that had been chasing after the woman were knocked backward with a blow like a silent thunderclap. Maerwyn herself was pushed back a step or two by the light as well, but her back had slammed into a strong tree trunk and prevented her from losing her footing. The orc bodies on the other hand careened over the precipice back into the road, one landing directly in the fire while the dead beast that had been shot fell on top of one of his still-living companions. It wasn't until the light had cleared almost a minute later that the three survivors finally found themselves able to move again, although one was now on fire and another was pinned by the corpse of his companion.

Up on the hill, the woman had rushed forward again, exhilarated at what had just happen. I'll never tell an elf to fuck off again. Or maybe I should always tell them, and they'll give me more of those she thought, feeling around in her quiver for another one of Lorryn's arrows. By the time she'd found one she'd come to the edge of the bank again and was ready to fire. But she hadn't taken the time to look over the arrow as closely this time, otherwise she might have noticed the groove pattern on shot and the shape of the head were both slightly different this time. At the moment though, all she could think of was seeing the rest of the beasts taken out by a single shot, and so again she aimed and fired.

As she drew her arm back, her weight shifted ever so slightly. On dry ground it might not have mattered, but the rain had thoroughly saturated the soil beneath her, and her footing slipped just enough to break the crucial alignment of her body. By the time Maerwyn felt the mistake in her arms, it was too late. The shot went wild, sailed clear across the road, and lodged itself firmly in a tree on the other side.

Then exploded into a wall of flame, at least ten feet high and almost four times as wide.

Oh for fuck's sake...I hope Lorryn gets eaten by a dragon the woman silently cursed, deciding to stick with her own arrows for the foreseeable future.

 

[Traveler]

‘Like gathering pumpkins,’ Orin’s morbid thought rolled along with the heads. The third orc fell as his leg was cut at the knee, and a quick jab with the opposite end of his axe handle sliced the fellow’s throat and drowned him in his own blood. The dwarf gathered his axe in his hands and charged forth, meeting the hellish enemy head-on.

The first had grabbed a spear, running as if to lance the dwarf, and the sky opened up and began to pour rain. Orin deflected the oncoming tip, then stepped into disembowel its wielder. As he twisted his torso he realized, too late, he had stepped into mud slicked not by rain, but by blood. The axe head aimed for the abdomen instead cut low, across leather armor, bone, and flesh, through bladder and muscle and kidney, and sent the orc to the ground as the abomination clutched at his sides, hoping to hold his life in.

Orin scrambled his legs to gain purchase, finally making it to his feet as another attacked, this one bearing a studded club. The knuckles on his fingertips were white as bone, and as the creature screamed the dwarf thought he counted not one row of teeth, but two, jutting out of his foul maw. Combined with the bones interlaced with its armor, the orc resembled a harbinger of death. The orc moved forward, swinging his club in powerful, wide arcs.

‘Fancy,’ Orin thought, ‘but fancy doesn’t win the war.’ He glanced up to catch a gimps of Maerwyn. The red-fletched signs of death on the ground attested that she was still fighting, but…where was she?

A concussive BOOM shot through the small pass, and sprayed the dwarf and attacking orcs with mud, and blood, and bile. It sounded like a mine explosion; unfortunately a common occurrence when methane and Sulfur met too much heat. The rain seemed to double its offerings, sheeting those below in skin-drenching moisture. Orin took advantage of the orc’s distraction and moved forwards, swinging the pick end of his axe and impaling it on the orc’s temple. It stuck for a moment, then squelched as the lifeless from fell to the ground, splashing the dwarf with its impact.

He could see the shadow of the one still approaching him, jagged short sword in hand. To his right, a fire-engulfed orc was thrashing in the puddles. Anther form struggled to get out from under a dead companion, and one was looking for a place to climb the embankment after their bow-wielding bringer of justice. For the dwarf on the road, there was nothing but the battle. He turned his gaze upon the shadow and charged once more.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

It was raining hard enough that the inferno brought on by Lorryn's cursed arrow didn't spread too quickly, but the area was quickly beginning to fill with smoke and steam. Maerwyn could still hear the sounds of her companion locked in combat, but it was becoming impossible to see more than the few scanty feet in front of her. For a moment the mercenary considered searching her quiver for another one of the "white light" arrows in the hopes of illuminating the area, but she could still see the lurching figure of an orc below her, scrambling to climb the embankment again. There was no time, she just needed to shoot.

And shoot she did. Arrow after arrow into the encroaching beast, but he just wouldn't stop. He'd raised his broadsword over his head now and was almost in range, and she could smell the putrescence of his breath as he let out a thunderous battle roar. Maerwyn was ready to fall back again, but over the sounds of the fight something else pierced the air.

"Maerwyn, get down!"

It wasn't the dwarf. No, this voice was feminine, and annoyingly familiar. But Maerwyn's body was used to obeying orders from that voice, and so she rolled to the side and unleashed the arrow. It pierced the orc's calf and finally down he went, sliding down the embankment as three more arrows flew out of the smoke, taking out both eyes and filling his open mouth. By the time the mercenary got her footing again, she wasn't even remotely surprised to see Carlin emerging from the smoke, longbow in hand and another arrow ready.

"What in blazes are you doing here?" Maerwyn snapped, turning her gaze back to the fighting down below. The most recent attacker was motionless now at the bottom of the embankment, along with all the other orcs she could see. But she could still hear fighting in the mist, and she was getting worried for Orin. Without another look back towards the elf, she slid carefully forward down the embankment, setting aside her bow once she'd reached the bottom and drawing her blades, ready to fight.

But Carlin seemed to have other ideas. She easily leapt down and landed in front of the woman, blocking her path forward. "I'm here to save you. You need to get out of here, Maerwyn."

Snarling, the mercenary pushed past the redhead. "I'm not leaving him!" she snapped, ready to rush into the fray before Carlin snatched her wrist. She pulled Maerwyn so close that the woman could see it wasn't just anger in the elf's jasper-colored eyes, but unadulterated fear.

"One of them got away!" she hissed. "They're going to go back to the fortress and tell the necromancer--"

Something shifted behind the women. Carlin heard it first, but Maerwyn saw it. The orc that had been trapped under his companion was freed, and at his feet, tossed into the road by the white arrow, was the handaxe that had nearly cut the brunette's face earlier. Her reflexes were just this good this time, but instead of darting to the side to protect herself, Maerwyn barreled forward, tackling the elf to the ground just as she felt a searing hot pain bite into her thigh. Her blades went clattering as she let out a pained scream and rolled onto her back, clutching her leg and feeling the blood pouring over her fingers.

The axe had cut her deeply, but it was still a graze. The weapon clattered to the ground again a second later, and Carlin was on it in a flash. Once again it flew through the air, this time sticking firmly in its target: the orc's skull. For good measure, the elf dove forward with her scimitar gone, and one more head rolled into the road. Then the redhead turned back towards the woman on the ground, ready to fall on her knees behind her and tend to the wound.

But Maerwyn had managed to pull herself into a sitting position, and through gritted teeth she inclined her head towards the sounds of Orin's axe. "Go help him, now! Do it, Carlin, or I will never, never forgive you if anything happens to him." Shutting her eyes a moment, she took a deep breath through her nose and tried to avoid looking down at her thigh. "I'll be okay, just go finish this off."

The elf hesitated for a moment, then nodded and vanished into the mist. "Orin? Where are you?" Carlin shouted into the fog, keeping her scimitar at the ready as she followed the sounds of battle.

 

[Traveler]

A brilliant wall of flame exploded behind the charging orc, blinding Orin for a moment. Fire spread wide and high, searing the trees around it despite the onslaught of rain, and causing the dwarf to nearly miss blocking the blade of the wicked black blade. He felt the strength behind the swing, solid and brutal, and could only imagine what damage it would have caused had it connected with his skull.

He twisted his grasp on the axe and stepped close to the foul creature, sliding the axe handle along its arms and hitting the orc across its ribs. Simultaneously, the orc kicked Orin in the chest and sent him flying back, landing with a breath-robbing ~tHUNk!~ in the mud. He cried out in surprise, and lost one hand’s grip on the axe as he fought to draw breath. Lightning flashed and the skies opened up more vehemently, outlining the orc standing above him, sword raised in the air for a final death blow.

Orin rolled to the side and felt the blade miss his head, but barely. Clenching his strong stomach muscles, he lifted enough to swing his axe one-handed and cut across the monster’s legs, bringing it crashing to the muddy road as well. The dwarf loosed his hold on his axe to clamber atop the creature and smash his fist repeatedly into its face; his fight or flight focused on the battle. The resilient creature only grinned at the dwarf, then smashed his hands on either side of the man’s head.

Kill or die. There was no in between.

Orin ripped one of the bone fragments from the orc’s armor and stabbed him in the throat. Two, three, four times; hitting jawbone and flesh, until his opponent shivered violently and then stilled.

His head hurt. His vision doubled. The rain sheeted and turned into mist, causing the illusion that they were surrounded by smoke. He found his axe and climbed to his feet, hearing nothing around him but the heavy pounding of the rain. He had no idea of how many Maerwyn had taken out, though as he walked between the wagon and the fire, her red-fletched arrows showed him where she had affected their battle. A burning orc was struggling, and Orin put him out of his misery with a lazy swing of the axe. He wanted them dead, not suffering.

All around him the fires were being extinguished by the rain. He moved towards the bank he had left with his guide and scooping mud away from his eyes.

"Orin? Where are you?" a voice shouted into the fog. In the pounding rain it seemed discordant; distant.

“Maerwyn!” who else could it be but she? He hefted his axe upon his shoulder and started to trot towards where he heard the call. “Maerwyn, where are you—” abruptly he stopped at the sight of the tall, red-headed elf before him. “Carlin? Where’s Maerwyn? Is she okay?” He hesitated at the sight of the scimitar in her hands. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and it was possible that she had come as an agent of Thranduil, here to drag the human back to the Woodland King’s prisons. His gaze went from the blade to her face. “What are you doing here?”