Over Hill and Under Tree (Shiva x Traveler)

[Shiva the Cat]

Maerwyn started to laugh at Orin's comment about finding a husband, but it quickly died off as she realized the statement wasn't that far from the truth. Unfortunately, the husband she'd wanted hadn't exactly reciprocated her feelings. "That was part of it, I suppose," the woman murmured, brushing a small pile of wood shaving off of her leg and tossing them into the fire. "I gave up on all of that long ago though. But I was thirteen when I joined my first company and finally went beyond the sight of the woods, and I had a lot of romantic ideas back then. Now that I've seen a bit more of the world, I like to think I'm a little more realistic. If I was going to find a husband, I think I would have found him by now, don't you?"

She had hoped that would drop the subject, but seeing Orin's reaction to the idea that his mother might be more than just friends with her elven companion seemed to have shifted the attention much too far to the other side. "I'm sorry!" Maerwyn gasped, both her carving and her knife into her lap. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's not my business after all. I'm sure your mother had her reasons for doing what she did." Setting aside the knife and wood block, the woman slid closer to him until she was directly at the dwarf's side. One scarred hand rested on his shoulder and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. "But if you like, I'll help you find her, I promise. Then you can ask her yourself. Besides, you ought to ask her blessing before you go off getting engaged. She is your mother, after all."

The woman tried to smile at that, but there was a sinking suspicion in her chest that Orin's mother had been a very different creature from her own. More than any of her other family members, who really didn't amount to much in the mercenary's opinion, Maerwyn still idolized the tall, golden-haired beauty that had dominated most of her childhood. While she might not have cared much for her father's opinion on things, she never would have dreamed of marrying anyone without first discussing the matter with Beorwyn. Of course the way her life was going she would probably never need to, but sometimes when she was falling asleep at night, Maerwyn still liked to dream about walking through the door of the old house above the river, and telling the woman sewing by the fire that she had finally found her love.

In the meantime though, the dwarf seemed to cheer at least a little, although the mercenary thought she could still see shadows behind those dark eyes of his. After giving him another squeeze on the shoulder, she moved back to her original position. "Go to sleep," she smiled, leaning back against the tree. "I like listening to the forest at night, and I think it and I have some catching up to do. I'll wake you in a while. Good night, Master Dwarf."

Maerwyn sat up several hours longer, listening to the sound of the wind in the leaves, occasionally spying an owl overhead or a curious deer silently passing by the campsite. When the moon was beginning to set she finally reached over and shook Orin awake before wrapping up in her bearskin, falling asleep as the embers of the fire began to fade. She didn't wake again until the sun was well over the horizon and the birds of the wood were beginning their cheerful morning song.

 

[Traveler]

He supposed she liked bears. Standing under the night sky, Orin’s view stretched far into the foothills and past the mountains beyond, seeking the bear constellation she had shown him. His hand found the little wrapped wooden keepsake she had given him, and the pebble nestled next to it. ‘If a rock was as precious as a diamond…’ he glanced back at her sleeping form. The embers of their fire had started to die down, and so he carefully laid another few sticks the size of his wrist across it to keep her warm.

He had nothing left to do but watch. His blades were clean, the fire tended, and there was not enough light to write by. So he watched the edge of their campsite and studied his sleeping guide, and when morning came he thought he saw orbs of pink in a nearby tree, so he went to investigate. Small flat orbs of fuzzy pink clustered in twos and threes on the branches, and a few had bird bites along the side. ‘If a bird could eat it,’ he thought, ‘perhaps a dwarf could too.’ The first bite sent sweet nectar gushing from the sides of his mouth, and the slightly fuzzy skin had an odd appeal to him. As he gathered several in the fold of his cloak he wondered what Maerwyn called them. Surely she would know their name. She knew everything there was to know about the lands around them.

She was beginning to stir to the birdsong and rising sun when he returned. “Good morning,” he said as he set his treasure one by one on a flat rock. “These are delicious.” He picked one of the prettiest ones in the pile and went to crouch down next to her, handing her the fruit. “I don’t know what they’re called, but they’re my favorite.” He had not eaten many fruits and breads before he met her. At home they tended to eat practical things; meat and vegetables, and lots of beer. But since he had been traveling with Maerwyn not only had his eyes been opened but his taste buds as well.

“I’m feeling much better this morning,” he sought to reassure her. “I think we’ll make better time today, as long as we don’t run into any more Easterlings.” He has spent a great deal of time kicking himself the prior day, and with the new morning he decided that the time for self-flagellation was over. Everyone deserved a second fresh start.

The days blended together. Each day they bandaged him, and soon the wound was knitting nicely in his opinion. Their talk seemed to dodge around the topic that was perhaps (at least to Orin) most on his mind. Theey would make an effort to find his mother, though the likelihood was slim. Soon the foothills were near; in a day’s walk they would be upon them. It seemed to the dwarf that Maerwyn was anxious. And he noticed too, that the more anxious she became, the more she spoke. He didn’t mind because he always found her topics interesting, but he tucked that bit of knowledge away, along with all the other things he had learned about his mercenary guide.

And so they crested a little hill and found that their next leg would leave the relatively flat lands and take them it. It seemed a good place to stop for a break, if not to camp for the night.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Maerwyn awoke to the scent of peaches, of all things. And when her brown eyes slowly fluttered open, lo and behold, there was a beautifully ripe fruit in the dwarf's hand, immediately rousing the mercenary's hunger. "Where in the world did you find one of these?" she yawned, sitting up and taking the peach from him, giving it a quick rub against her sleeve before taking a bite. The sweetness of the flesh was a shock to her tastebuds after a week and a half of eating meat and fish, but it was a welcome and invigorating change. "I thought peaches like these only grew on the west side of the forest, and in the Woodland Kingdom," she remarked, stretching one arm over her head as she savored the fruit. A wicked little grin crossed her face as her tongue brushed against the pit. "It seems Thranduil has been so busy warding off two-legged thieves that he's neglected to prevent the squirrels from making off with his tastier treasures."

All in all it was a lovely start to the day. After checking Orin's wound and seeing it was already beginning to heal nicely (The hardiness of dwarves Maerwyn had marveled as her fingers rebandaged his arm and side, lingering a little on the hard flesh underneath), they set out when the sun was already well overhead, stopping of course to gather a few more peaches to munch along the way. Despite the heat of the summer's day beyond the woods, under the trees some pleasant spring chilliness still remained, not enough to be uncomfortable but enough to spare their waterskins from too much damage.

As they leisurely picked their way through the trees, water remained the woman's only real concern at the moment. There was no shortage of little creatures in the woods that would sate their hunger, not to mention the abundance of fresh berries and aromatic herbs that would no doubt supplement their otherwise bland rations. And surprisingly enough, there was no sign of any spying enemies on their trail, though that could possibly be attributed to the wandering path Maerwyn had chosen. Her boast that she could lead Orin through the woods grew less likely with every passing hour, but she wasn't too concerned about it. After all, suppose the dwarf did reunite with his mother and wished to stay with her for a few days? The deadline would be missed regardless, so it didn't seem too important to press the matter.

On the morning of the third day though, something made the woman stop dead in her tracks. They had begun creeping over the roots of the mountains the previous day, and Maerwyn's sharp eyes had been on the watch for any sign of two-legged inhabitants in the area, but so far there had been nothing. She knew there were some caves higher up the slopes though, and she had begun to lead Orin up a long, steep ravine when her eyes feel upon a dead fir tree directly in the middle of their path. It was far from the only dead tree they'd seen since entering the forest, but this one was covered with a strange white veil that blew gently in the wind. Only one thing in Mirkwood could spin a web like that.

Not wanting to alarm her client, Maerwyn had immediately turned around and began leading Orin back into the lower floors of the forest, mumbling a little about taking a wrong turn before launching into a rambling story about her early days as a mercenary. They reached another ravine leading up later in the afternoon, but this time the pair didn't even make it halfway through before they found their path completely blocked with spiderwebs. "That's not good," Maerwyn muttered, glancing over at the dwarf to gauge his reaction to the obstacle. She had fully expected to encounter spiders while their plan was to take the Old Road; the vermin had already taken over long stretches of that path years ago. But it was alarming to see they had already breached the wall of the Emyn Duir and were beginning to creep into the northern half of the forest. And if they had already infested the mountains, what did that mean about Orin's mother?

She didn't dare ask the question aloud, but surely it had to be going through the dwarf's mind as well. The farther west they traveled, the thicker the webs became until Maerwyn was forced to begin leading them more northward, away from the mountains. She'd hoped Orin wouldn't notice, but when they finally stopped in a clearing near dusk, there would be no mistaking that the Emyn Duir definitely seemed farther away than they had that morning. And what was even more disconcerting to the mercenary's eyes was the dark spot in the middle of the clearing, an old but unmistakable sign of a campfire. It probably hadn't been used in months, but all the same it made her nervous.

Still, there were no signs of the spiderwebs anywhere nearby, and with darkness readily falling Maerwyn didn't trust to stop anywhere further south than their current location. And even so, she could have sworn she heard strange chitterings and scratchings in the shadows beyond. "No fire tonight," she instructed the dwarf, her voice coming out a little more sharply than how she usually addressed him. "We shouldn't draw any more attention to ourselves than necessary. I think..." Her hand slipped down to the hilt of a sword. "Something may be watching us."

As if to confirm her suspicions, a dark shape moved beyond the treeline, snapping a branch as it did so. In a flash, both blades were drawn as the mercenary immediately stepped in front of her charge. "I would have your axe at the ready, Master Dwarf," she whispered, watching and waiting to see what the shadow would do next.

 

[Traveler]

The climb up the hill was pleasant enough; Orin guiltily stole glances at his guide ahead, her strong, sturdy legs and backside the only thing aside from trees and ground to look at. The skirts that Dís wore had always covered hers, making the form of the dwarven woman a mystery. He had always considered it alluring. But Maerwyn’s legs, wrapped in tight trousers and striding alongside him day after day had never been a factor in his mind. Not until that fateful morning of the Easterling’s attack.

And everything he found his mind wandering back to the sight of her silhouetted against the river he chided himself for being so crass. She as his hired help, and he was engaged.

So when the mercenary turned hastily, mumbling something about taking a wrong turn, he thought nothing of it. But later they came to another path, and this was not a wrong turn; it was just…wrong.

"That's not good," Maerwyn muttered. She glanced back as he flanked her, glancing at the trees and their gossamer gowns.

“Hmm,” he observed. His eyes trailed over the webbing, stretching across threes and shrubs, and providing evidence that this had been in place for longer than a few days. “Is this normal for the woods?” He had encountered spiders in the mines, of course, but they were little things. These things, it seemed, were not so little. “There must be another way through.” He looked to her for confirmation, and when she turned to lead them further west, it seemed she had thought so too.

He didn’t have the knack for direction she had in the open, but he could swear they were walking away from the Emyn Duir, not towards it. Orin didn’t question her, trusting that she would find their way better than he could have. The clearing where they stopped seemed nice enough; there was already a nice little fire ring in the middle. Maerwyn’s voice silenced the thought when she snapped there would be no fire.

"Something may be watching us."

The hackles on his neck rose. He slowly reached for his axe, as a snapping branch drew his attention to the edge of the woods. He swore he saw movement in the shadows. Orin put his back towards Maerwyn to guard her from the rear.

"I would have your axe at the ready, Master Dwarf," she whispered.

“How big are these spiders?” he whispered back. Fire was not an option. Everyone knew that fires near an elven forest was suicidal; they loved their trees as much as they loved their reflections. He hoped that she shot steady, and seriously considered carrying something that could attack from afar if they lived through this. The thought of being digested alive did not appeal to him at all.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Big," Maerwyn hissed in response, eyes fixated on the treeline as her heart began to pound faster. Here was the weakness that had plagued her ever since she had first stepped foot in the woods as a child and that could not be overcome no matter how hard she might train. By day her eyes, while not perhaps as sharp as an elf's, were still keen enough to pick an enemy even out of the thickest cover. But in the growing blackness under the canopy of Mirkwood, she was practically blind. Her good hearing might have made up for it somewhat, but the sound of the dwarf breathing beside her seemed deafening, and was only echoed by the blood pumping in her ears.

After several moments, the black shape beyond the trees seemed to have melted into blackness, and there were no more twig snap or chitterings. The only sound the woman could hear in the woods was a far off night bird, and the rustling of the wind in the trees.

Then something dropped overhead, and with a grunt Maerwyn fell forward onto the soft dirt. Her hands instinctively reached forward to catch herself, dropping her swords in the process. She could feel a heavy weight planted firmly on her back, while eight thin, shining black legs came down around her like a cage. Two pairs instantly seized around her middle, keeping her pinned to the ground, while another pair began to rapidly knit some thick, silvery fibers around her legs. Snarling like a wild animal, the woman tried to roll onto her back, pulling her knife from her belt in the hopes of stabbing into the spider's smooth black abdomen. But another pair of legs had seized her by the shoulders, firmly pinning her arms to her sides.

"Tasty, tasty!" an eerie voice whispered in the mercenary's ear, making her shiver for a moment before her grip tightened on her knife. If she dropped that too she'd really be in trouble. The spider's disgustingly sticky silk had already wound all the way up her legs and was halfway up her stomach, but even if she was bound completely Maerwyn was sure she would be able to cut herself free. She just needed to stay calm, and not resist too much, otherwise the damned thing would probably tie her all the tighter.

"Stay back, Master Orin!" she called out to the dwarf, praying he would do anything so foolhardy as to slash at the spider with his axe. With his strength he'll probably chop me in half along with it the woman thought grimly. "These things rarely travel alone..." Taking a deep breath, Maerwyn let her shoulders relax, but brought her knife as close to her stomach as she dared. The blade was scratching against the hard leather of her jerkin as the spider silk came up to her chest, biding her breasts so tightly she was sure it would suffocate her entirely. But if the spider had wanted to eat her right away, it wouldn't have even bothered with the webbing. No, the monster wanted her incapacitated but alive, at least for now. She could only pray that it would be satisfied with dragging off the mercenary alone, and leaving the dwarf for another meal.

The silk was circling her neck and face now, and if she weren't already blind from the darkness outside the fibers binding her eyes finished the job. The stuff smelled disgusting and it was nearly impossible to breathe through it, but once the woman was entirely encased in the webbing she could finally feel the spider climbing off of her body. She just needed to wait until she could feel it dragging her off, then she would have to try and cut through in one swift movement. Her knuckles cracked a little as she tightened her grip on her knife, and when the moment was right she summoned all of her strength and slashed as hard as she could, bursting out of the webbing like a chick hatching from an egg.

Gasping for breath, the woman began to crawl towards her abandoned swords, webbing still clinging to her body and somewhat restricting her legs. Behind her, she could hear the spider screeching with fury at Maerwyn's escape, and she could feel the shadow falling over her again...

 

[Traveler]

The stillness was more eerie than the sounds of cracking twigs. At least with the sounds, they could estimate where their enemy was. Orin slowed his breath and listened intently, his heart pounding in his ears. Then Maerwyn fell forward with a grunt, and the dwarf turned to see a hideous, disgusting, huge black spider pinning her to the ground, face first. Orin cried out in surprise and shock, horrified that a spider as big as he was could speak!

Perhaps it had merely hissed, but the dwarf could have sworn that the spider had called Maerwyn ‘tasty’. “NO!” Orin shouted, turning his axe ninety degrees and drawing back to punt it off her body with the flat of his war axe.

"Stay back, Master Orin!" she called out to the dwarf, halting his swing.

“But the spider—!”

"These things rarely travel alone..."

Orin spun around and sought other attackers and saw that she was right. Perhaps she could take care of the one, and he the others. The forest seeped another black demon, this one crouching briefly before springing forth. The battle calm washed over the dwarf once the engagement was upon him, and with both hands on the handle of the axe he stepped into the charge. His blade arched upwards, slicing through the exoskeleton of the sternum, and separating the cephalothorax from its bulbous abdomen. The dwarf roared his way through the hit, his body slimed by the plasma spray that followed. Bitter and vile, Orin spat it out in disgust as he moved away and looked for more. The only other he saw was the one dragging away a web-wrapped length of…something.

‘Where was Maerwyn?’ he glanced about then realized that that was Maerwyn, just as her knife slipped trough the webbing and she burst forth. The thing intended to eat her. Orin moved to cover the distance between them and the thing leaped at his companion as she crawled towards her swords.

“Stay down!” Orin shouted. He swung above her to meet the spider as it attacked. Yet he knew that if there were many more they would not be able to stop them all, and eventually both he and Maerwyn would be wrapped into tasty little packages and hauled away.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Sensing the spider approaching her from above, Maerwyn rolled instinctively onto her back just in time to see the enormous beast go sailing sideways thanks to a heavy blow from Orin's axe. Gasping for breath, the woman looked over at the dwarf with widened eyes. He saved me she thought incredulously, almost too shocked to notice the three other arachnids closing in on them. But at the sight of motion, she quickly leaned forward and fully slashed the rest of the webs clinging to her legs before scrambling to her feet, tossing her savior nothing more than a short "Thank you!" before diving for her swords.

She managed to get one in hand before another spider slammed into her side, nearly knocking her feet out from beneath her entirely. The mercenary held her ground though, at least until the beast slammed her up against the nearest tree. This spider wasn't as patient as the last, and instead of seeing the legs beginning to spin another restraining web, she saw the gleam of a long sting emerging from its abdomen. Maerwyn's arms were still pinned at her side, and while she couldn't maneuver her sword to stab the monster properly, she did manage to deliver a strong slash at one of its spindly legs, completely severing the appendage. This was enough for the other legs to remove their grips momentarily, and she rolled away from the tree, pausing only to snatch up her other sword as she somersaulted back onto her feet.

"There's too many of them. You need to run," she shouted to the dwarf, positioning herself in front of him and retaking her former defensive stance. "I can keep them busy, just go!" The seven-legged spider was shambling towards her now, fury in its many-faceted eyes as four more of its compatriots fell into ranks behind it. Maerwyn could feel her heart sinking. If it wasn't night time and she had a proper range, she might have been able to take out at least a few of them with a some well-aimed arrows. But there was no time to draw her bow now, and even if there were she didn't trust herself to make the necessary shots to get both Orin and herself out alive. At least with her blades she might be able to buy his life.

With a shrieking war cry, the mercenary dove forward ready to scissor the nearest spider's head off with her swords, but before she could a new sound pierced the clearing. Maerwyn felt a rush of air past her ear, and as if it had sprung from her own mind a moment earlier an arrow buried itself deep in the spider's head. But this arrow wasn't one of the woman's red-fletched missiles purchased in Dale. No, this arrow was longer, lighter looking, almost silvery in the dimness, and fletched with ominous black. After a few more soft bursts of air, other arrows began to appear buried in the heads and bodies of the other spiders as well, and those monsters that had managed to avoid the shots were starting to let out screams of fear and retreat deeper into the woods.

It was only after all of the spiders had departed, leaving Orin and Maerwyn alone in the clearing, that another figure stepped forth. Thankfully this one only had two legs, although the woman kept her hands on her blades when she saw his ethereally beautiful face and pointed ears. "Great...I had a feeling we were going to get caught sooner or later," she muttered, still moving defensively in front of the dwarf. But the more she looked at the elf, the more confusion seemed to spread across her face. He was unfamiliar to her, but that was to be expected considering how long she'd been away from Mirkwood. His coloring was unusual though, with his jet black hair and almost luminously white skin. Most of the silvan elves she'd been acquainted with had been born with brown or reddish hair, with the occasional blonde here and there, and skin with a more golden than silvery tint.

"Who are you?" Maerwyn asked, first in the silvan language, then in what she assumed was very poorly prounounced Sindarin. It might have been a hopeless endeavor, considering the armor he wore wasn't indicative of either of those clans, but the longbow in his hands wasn't dissimilar to the type she'd seen wood-elves use in the past. Swallowing hard, she decided to repeat the question in the common tongue. "Who are you, and why did you save us?"

 

[Traveler]

The axe connected, and Orin was relieved that Maerwyn had not sprung up and intercepted his swing. He had been completely committed to the blow.

"Thank you!"

“My pleasure!” He saw another descending above them, its legs like wings moving it closer to them as the webbing extended. He was grateful for the long handle on his axe; it kept him from getting too close to the beasties as they attacked. A sickly morbid part of him was reminded of a game he saw some children playing, where they beat a paper machete donkey hanging from a rope until it spilled out wrapped candies and treats. This was no donkey, and inside it had no treats.

"There's too many of them. You need to run," she shouted to the dwarf, positioning herself in front of him and retaking her former defensive stance. "I can keep them busy, just go!"

“I’m not leaving you!” Orin shouted back, just as another spider took advantage of his distraction and knocked him down, smashing him onto the rocky ground and knocking the breath out of him. He felt his mostly healed side protest, and the warm feeling of the wound reopening. He panicked when he heard Maerwyn’s war cry, and though the spider about him was gathering up the dwarf for a little treat for later, Orin shouted and brought his fist around and buried in one of the creature’s glistening eyes. Unfortunately, it had many more.

He twisted in its grasp and reached up to grab the vey end of his axe. He flexed his wrist and brought the pick end down upon the spider’s head. The spider collapsed, burying the dwarf beneath it. By the time he managed to grunt and shove the weighty creature off his body it had grown strangely silent. “Maerwyn!”

He was answered by her quiet voice, but her message was not what he had hoped it would be. "Great...I had a feeling we were going to get caught sooner or later," she muttered, still moving defensively in front of the dwarf. Orin glanced about and saw their remaining attackers twitching in the final throes of death. It was only then that he noticed the thin shafts protruding from their bodies. These were not Maerwyns arrows…

She addressed someone in an elven tongue. Orin turned to see to whom she spoke, and saw a tall, slim elf step out of the forest, his bow and arrow still at the ready. Maerwyn spoke again, a similar phrase, but different in the way that languages were. She looked trapped, and perhaps more scared of this two legged creature than the others. As the clouds shifted, and the moonlight spilled forth, Orin could finally make out the features of their unlikely rescuer.

"Who are you, and why did you save us?" Maerwyn almost sounded desperate for an answer.

Orin stepped around her, looking up at the tall man through his spider gut smeared eyes. “Lorryn.”

The elf ceased his slow advance and canted his head to the side. Even now he had that same, aloof look he wore when Havus had said her good-byes; as if he was slightly detached from their world. Set apart from the tedious days and hours that ticked by until their weaker forms gave out. “I do not know you,” he replied in clipped common. His eyes swept over the dwarf and the human, assessing their value and finding them wanting.

“But I know you.” He set the head of his axe on the ground and grasped the end like a walking stick. Or a scepter. “I would never forget the elf who took my mother.”

A moment passed while dwarf observed elf, and elf considered dwarf. Finally, their pale rescuer seemed to come to a decision. “Gather your things and come with me. We will grant you sanction.” With that, he turned and began to lead them into the woods.

Orin looked at his guide. She seemed unhurt and whole, thank the stars. “I feel safer in there with him than out here,” he reasoned, picking up his axe to follow. They had found what they were looking for completely by accident, but he was giving Maerwyn the credit.

The forest seemed even more tangled then before, and as the elf before them wove his way around the webbing, occasionally holding a sheet aside for the travelers to duck under, Orin wondered if he was simply leading them into the heart of their lair. But if he had meant them harm he could have simply left them to the spiders. Just when it seemed it couldn’t get any worse, the webs began to lessen, and then they were back in a forest that looked like any other in the dark. Ominous.

Lorryn’s long strides made keeping up with him difficult. When he sensed they were not as close as they should be, he slowed his pace, glancing down at them as if disgusted with the slower pace they forced. Their path began to climb, and finally crested a rocky hill above the trees. There, the moon shone fully upon them, displaying the forest and mist below. On the next hilltop a warm light glowed from a sturdy stone home, a beacon in the wilds for miles. It seemed that was their destination. He stopped to ensure they had made it that far, before leading them down the other side.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

The word "Lorryn" meant absolutely nothing to the mercenary. It sounded vaguely elvish, which lead her to think that was the name of the stranger, but it certainly didn't illuminate anything as far as his motives went. Then again, after a moment Maerwyn realized the elf hadn't opened his mouth at all, and it was Orin, stepping past her with a most uncharacteristic look on his face, that had spoken the name. Her brows knit together in confusion; how in the world could the dwarf know their savior's name? Unless...

“I would never forget the elf who took my mother.”

Well, on the bright side this meant they'd almost accomplished the short term goal. Assuming Lorryn was still involved with Orin's mother, he had to know where she was currently. And if he wasn't, he must have had some idea where she might currently be. But judging by the expression on the dwarf's face, Maerwyn couldn't help but wonder if her client was beginning to have doubts about his goals. He certainly didn't seem happy to see the elf even if Lorryn had saved their lives, and the woman half expected him to argue against their rescuer's offer of shelter.

Still, when Orin expressed his wish to accompany the elf to wherever he was headed, the woman only nodded in agreement. After recovering her knife and sheathing her swords, she fell into an easy step at the dwarf's side. "Are you all right?" she murmured, glancing towards Lorryn to see if he could hear them speaking. Glancing quickly up and down his body Maerwyn determined her client was unharmed physically, but his emotional state was another question. It was easy to see he wasn't exactly happy to see the elf, yet he still followed him bravely, spiderwebs or not (and the mercenary was careful to keep her hand on the hilt of her sword just in case). Once they'd cleared the last of these sticky obstacles, the woman paused long enough to rest a hand on Orin's shoulder and bring her lips next to his ear.

"Say the word, and I'll get rid of him for you," she whispered, giving him a little squeeze before straightening her back again and continuing onward. She wasn't actually all that confident she could defeat the elf, especially on his own turf, but if it cheered the dwarf up even a little that was all that mattered to her. Besides, the more she looked at his smug face the less the woman decided she liked Lorryn, even if he had saved their lives. He looked like he could be Thilion's shadow, though the blonde elf at least had a constant smile on his face to make him look a bit more handsome. As her brown eyes moved from the elf in front of her to the dwarf beside her, Maerwyn would have gladly named Orin the handsomer of the pair, and couldn't imagine what would have made his mother choose Lorryn over her own son.

The elf was leading them into a part of the forest that was unfamiliar to the mercenary, but she guessed they must still have been east of the Enchanted River, and probably still well south of Thranduil's territory. That fact too was curious. Of course there were a few elves who lived outside the borders of the woodland realm, but even they acted as scouts and guards for their king. She wanted to ask if Lorryn had any such affiliation, but she didn't think he would answer her (he'd certainly been rude enough to her earlier), and she doubted Orin knew the answer. Judging by the rise in the ground though, she suspected they were moving south again towards the mountains, a sure sign that even if the elf was there with Thranduil's permission, he could barely be called a neighbor.

Finally, she saw a light on a far off hill that was like an island in the darkness. Something inside her clenched in nostalgia; she'd dreamed about seeing her own home like that so many nights before. But as they approached the light, Maerwyn could see the house was made of stone, not wood, and it was much too small to hold the average family of woodmen. Glancing down at Orin, the woman raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to go first and make sure it's safe? Or...?" She didn't finish the question aloud, but she thought she knew what the answer might be. If his mother was inside the house, surely he wanted to be the first one to look on her, didn't he?

 

[Traveler]

The shock of seeing the pale, tall elf again, and knowing that he had not dreamed their last meeting up, was draining the blood from Orin’s face. The walking helped him stay focused enough to keep the worse of it at bay. But questions swirled around his head; did his mother know they were here? How had the elf found him? And lastly; if the elf had not appeared, would Maerwyn and he be waiting to be digested by those nasty spiders?

His breath hitched as he stepped over a log, irritating the wound at his side. Maerwyn seemed worried. "Are you all right?" she asked. He nodded, resisting the urge to put a hand on his side. He was alive, she was alive, and they were traveling with the last person he’d seen his mother with. For now that was enough.

As they made their way out of the webs she put a hand on his shoulder and whispered "Say the word, and I'll get rid of him for you," She gave him a squeeze and then continued down the path, leading the way behind the elf.

Orin chuckled. She was kidding…wasn’t she‽ He continued to follow. It seemed they walked for half a night. They passed through dense forests whose branches reached for them, over moonlit glades, and then up, up, up a path, that made the dwarf grunt with each step. He must have hit a sharp rock when he fell, but it was still not as bad as the pain his heart was feeling. What in the world could have compelled his mother to leave the comfort of the Lonely Mountain for this?

Then the house came into view; as warm and inviting as a forge’s fire. He stood a moment, looking down at the place that might have housed his mother for the last three and a half decades. Maerwyn stood at his side, and then she looked down at him and asked if he wanted her to go in first to ensure it was safe.

Orin tilted his head up at her. “Safe?” Was she saying that he was afraid? “It’s safer than the spider forest,” he observed, then leaned a hand on her shoulder as he caught his breath. “I don’t think Lorryn would have drug us halfway through the forest just to murder us in a cottage, do you?” He gave her a smile, and then removed his hand. “Come on, we might as well see what’s in store. Everything happens for a reason, right?”

As the pair reached the cottage they could see that what they thought was a cottage of stone on top of a hill was more than it appeared. Lorryn stepped inside the stone, ducking to accommodate the stunted entry, and beckoned them to follow.

Once they stepped inside, the coolness of a cave washed over them, hinting that there was much more of the home beneath the surface. The entry room was bare except for a long handled broom leaning against a corner. Several chimneys leading down flanked the inner walls of the cottage, which now revealed itself to be no more than an entry and receiving room for their home below. To Orin it was a familiar sight; a hole to allow the air beneath to circulate with that above. Essential in caves. Apparently, essential here as well. Otherwise, the room was bare, excepting a long handled broom leaning against the corner.

Lorryn leaned over a chimney and raised a hand to the side of his mouth. In Dwarven he called down, “Havus! I have guests!” He once again cast his gaze upon the pair, then motioned them to shut the door before descending a set of spiraling stone to their home below. Orin could not shake the feeling of familiarity as they stepped down, circling deeper and deeper into the heart of the hill. The metal rail at the edge of the stairs carried delicately twined depictions of vines and flowers, and the occasional thick candle lit their path. The scent of stew and bread began to tease their senses. The dwarf’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. Eventually the staircase widened to a cavernous room lined in smoothly chiseled rock, and a tidy sitting room greeted them.

He turned to Maerwyn once they reached the foot of the staircase. His eyes betrayed the uncertainties in his heart. Though he had been desirous of a reunion, the truths that might be revealed frightened his stout Dwarven heart, and he was glad to have a friend at his side.

To the right a hearth burned warmly, and the outline of a small dwarf busied itself with the simmering stew. Her dark brown hair was braided into an intricate bun, and azure jewels glistened in the light of the fire. Despite her stature she was well-proportioned, and wore a yellow apron around her waist. “Who did you pull out of the forest tonight, my love—” she began to ask as she turned, spoon in hand. Seeing the lovely girl and the young dwarf beside her, she hesitated, her eyes growing wide, and dropped her spoon.

The front of her apron was embroidered with blue daisies which matched the color of her lips. Her eyes were lined, and her beard kept short and comely. She was beautiful. The woman drew a short breath, eyes darting from Maerwyn to Orin, then Lorryn, and back again. “Oh, my Heart – you’ve come home!”

And for the first time since they met him, Lorryn smiled.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Oh come on, it's not like the spiders have taken over the entire forest. That first evening was quite nice, don't you remember? And not a single web to be seen," Maerwyn commented as she tossed her braid over her shoulder. "As for that shady looking-fellow," she continued, inclining her head towards the elf. "You know him better than I do. Frankly I don't trust elves any more than I'd trust the east wind, but I haven't heard of them developing an affinity for spiders, so I imagine they have that going for them. They're not typically to fond of dwarves either, but considering that ray of sunshine already over there has already made that exception, I can't help but wonder what others he might have."

As they approached the cottage, the woman expected the door would open to reveal a cozy little room with a fire in the hearth, perhaps one or two pieces of homemade furniture, and some homespun hangings on the walls to protect against the occasional winter wind. What Maerwyn did not expect, and what she certainly was not pleased to see, was a long staircase leading downward. "You're completely sure about this?" the mercenary muttered, glancing over again at her companion. Ever since her first long stay in the cells of the woodland king, she'd developed quite the aversion to underground areas and considering their relative proximity to that particular prison (though it must have been at least a hundred miles northeast of them, if not farther) she was hesitant to take the first step downward.

Orin of course had no such concerns, and for the first time since she'd met him the dwarf truly seemed comfortable in his surroundings. He wasted no time in descending the steps without so much as a glance back towards his bodyguard. With a frown, Maerwyn looked back at the door of the shack, not entirely sure the forest would be less frightening than a cave, all things considered. At least she knew what the dangers were out there, whereas below...well, something at least smelled all right. But as she carefully crept down the stairs, hands ever ready to draw a weapon just in case, the sound of voices speaking a strange language did nothing to put her at ease. She thought it might have been dwarvish, but she'd heard so little of that in her life she couldn't be sure. All of her other dwarven clients were always careful to speak nothing but the common tongue around her, more out of a desire to keep the language secret than to respect her feelings. In either case, the harsh sounds of the words did nothing to ease her mind.

The air was growing cooler, but the lights along the way were growing brighter. Maerwyn had to admit the stairs were cut as neatly as if they'd been built from wood planks, and the beautiful ironwork on the railing she was gripping with white knuckles might have astounded her under more relaxed circumstances. When she finally reached the bottom, she nearly tripped over the still form of Orin, who was finally staring at her with matched apprehension before he could step into the heart of the room.

"We can go back if you want," she whispered, glancing over his head to the figures beyond. Thankfully there was no sign of beast or monster, just the tall thin form of the elf, and a strange, squat little silhouette against a cheery hearth tending to a large pot. Before they could make any kind of escape though, the silhouette had turned towards them, and as she approached Maerwyn could see a rather pretty, if bearded face, with artfully arranged curly hair and eyes that were startlingly similar to Orin's. All doubt fled from the woman's mind; this had to be his mother.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder why he didn't step forward, embrace her, do anything. If it had been Beorwyn in front of them, Maerwyn couldn't have stopped herself from flying into her mother's arms and sobbing. Granted, Orin seemed to have a bit more complicated of a relationship with the other dwarf, but why had he wanted to come all this way if he wasn't even going to say anything to her?

Very gently, Maerwyn put her hand in the middle of his back and pushed him forward, at the same time forcing a smile on her face and doing her best to look as casual as possible with sweat on her brow and spiderwebs still clinging to her elbows. "Hello there, you must be Orin's mother. I've heard--" Well, not very much. "--about you. I'm Maerwyn." Instead of holding out a hand to shake, she instead looked over towards the elf, who was smiling in a way that reminded her something of a fox baring its teeth. With only a glance towards the dwarves, she stepped past Orin and moved towards Lorryn instead, keeping her back to the mother and son in the best aim at privacy she could provide.

"I don't suppose I could trouble you for a drink? It's been a long day," she asked the elf, picking a strand of spiderweb from her sleeve and rolling it absendmindedly in her palms. "Thank you for saving us, by the way. Though I'm curious what brought you out on such a night. I don't suppose Thranduil put you up to killing spiders for him, did he?"

 

[Traveler]

"We can go back if you want," Maerwyn had whispered, but Orin could do nothing but stand and stare at the figure by the fire. He felt his guide’s hand pushing him forward, and as his mother spoke he was thankful for Maerwyn’s presence. She had the presence of mind to be courteous. Orin didn’t know if he could. "Hello there, you must be Orin's mother. I've heard----about you. I'm Maerwyn." And then she stepped away, leaving Orin to struggle with a response.

He didn’t have long to think about it though. Havus threw her powerful arms around him and hugged tightly as the tears seeped from her eyes.

Lorryn glanced down at the intrusive human woman as she approached. Somehow, though he had been in the same woods that Maerwyn and Orin had, the tall elf managed to look as fresh as the newborn day. His dark hair was pulled to the back, unscathed by strands of webs. Tying his hair was a series of pointed objects, perhaps a practical last-chance weapon if he needed it. Unlike the more common elves of the realm, he kept the sides shorn. She had already noticed many things about him that were unexpected; his pale skin and armor among them. In the light of the hearth his eyes were more noticeably dark, as if they drew light in and swallowed it completely.

"I don't suppose I could trouble you for a drink? It's been a long day," she asked the elf, picking a strand of spiderweb from her sleeve and rolling it absendmindedly in her palms. "Thank you for saving us, by the way. Though I'm curious what brought you out on such a night. I don't suppose Thranduil put you up to killing spiders for him, did he?"

He drew air into his nose and peered down at her; the woman needed a bath. As did the son of Havus, but she would not be disturbed during their reunion, and Lorryn knew her well enough to guess she would handle the boy on her own terms. “You.” He said to Maerwyn in the Common tongue, taking in the webs and dust, the grime on her clothing, and the arrows in her quiver. That last bit of information gave him pause. What was it that Havus constantly preached? ‘Find what you have in common, not what sets you apart.’ He sighed, practically rolling his eyes at the girl before him. “You are Orin’s companion, yes?” Obviously, talking to her was a burden.

“Come,” he began to walk, expecting her to follow into the darkened corridor. Then he remembered the restrictions of her human eyes and paused to hand her a lit candle, as if that alone should suffice. “Yes, a drink. You’re welcome,” he said, answering her questions succinctly. “I was hunting, and no. He did not.” Each word was clipped. He had the odd mannerism of dipping his chin slightly at the end of each sentence, and his tone carried the hint of irritation that she was even speaking. Once she had the candelabra safely in hand he walked off into the darkness once again. The floor gently sloped downwards and curved deeper into the hill. At the right was a small doorway that led into a domed, small excavated room that housed a cozy bed and chair, an intimate table with carved wooden chairs, a small chest, and thick carpets upon the stone-lined floor. He walked to the table and brought a lamp to Maerwyn to light with her candle. The room seemed to grow with light from the lamp; small crystalline fragments embedded in the domed walled multiplied the light until the room began to glow.

“The drink is there,” he indicated the bottle of wine covered in a light dust and the two overturned glasses next to it. “The door leads to a bath,” he wrinkled his nose at her. “Use both, then come to dinner.” He tilted his head as he waited to see if she understood.

On the first floor, Havus finally released Orin from her hug. “I’m so glad you’ve come. Finally!” She grasped him by the shoulders and moved him to the light, eyeing her slightly taller son with a look of admiration. “My! How you’ve grown! I can’t believe he let you go! Was the journey long? Was it difficult to find us? Who is your companion? She seems friendly enough! Did you eat? How are your brothers? Has your sister written? What happened to your head? Did the spiders bite you? Oh, my goodness – aren’t you going to say anything‽”

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, a myriad of questions and accusations running through his mind. What should he say to the woman who had been gone all his life? Which question should come first?

“Why did you leave?” were the words that finally tumbled out.

“Oh…Dear…” she put a curled finger to her lips. Then she seemed to see him, and smell him, for the first time since his arrival. “Perhaps that’s a conversation best had at dinner, hmm? Be sweet, my love, and take a bath. The stew will be ready soon.” She pushed him forward, much as Maerwyn had, towards the corridor the guide had entered with Lorryn. “First door on the right. You’ll figure it out…”

He glanced back once at her, still reeling in confusion, and entered the hallway to find his way. Surprisingly it wasn’t difficult to do; and as he approached the door to the guest room, the willowy elf was making his way out. Both men eyed each other warily before passing each other in the hall.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

It only took about three seconds for Maerwyn to decide that Lorryn was her least favorite kind of elf. She'd given him the benefit of the doubt at first, being curious about his origins and assuming that because he was in love with a dwarf he might be a bit more friendly towards humans, but the look on his face as his eyes scanned her from top to bottom was all the woman needed to see to quickly flip her opinion. Her entire posture tensed and her formerly friendly eyes went hard, and as she crossed her arms over her chest she leaned back, taking on a slightly defiant air. "I gave you my name, you could use it, you know. Elf," the mercenary snapped. "And yeah, I'm the person Orin pays to keep him alive."

Not that she'd exactly earned her pay that particular evening, but at least after this fight her employer had walked away unhurt. That was only on the outside though. As she glanced over her shoulder towards the dwarves by the fire, Maerwyn couldn't help but wonder if his heart would come through unscathed before the night was over. But matters like that weren't part of their arrangement. Much as she might have wanted to stand behind him and make sure he was all right, it didn't seem appropriate to intrude just then. Besides, why did she even care?

He's just a client she reminded herself for what seemed like the thousandth time, though now it was her own heart that began to feel strangely pained. Just a client, nothing more. Besides, he's here to tell his mother about his engagement, no doubt.

A grim smile crossed the woman's face as she looked more closely at Orin's mother. Despite Maerwyn's concern for her client, she felt more reassured the more she watched the dwarvish woman. She had such a kind, motherly face, and there was no mistaking the obvious love she had for her son. Perhaps if he told her about his bizarre relationship with Dís the older dwarf could talk some sense into him.

And then what? He would suddenly turn his attention to the human woman who'd been at his side the last few weeks and just barely managed to keep him from getting murdered? The woman who'd made it quite clear to him that marriage was not a priority and who planned on wandering the world until she fell down dead in the road? Maerwyn's face burned at the idea. It was a ridiculous thought, and one she needed to remove immediately.

She turned her attention back to Lorryn, relieved at the mention of drink. For a moment she wondered if, like the wood elves, he had a way of getting his hands on some good Dorwinion wine. Surely something that strong would be able to extinguish all of the silly thoughts racing through her mind. And if not, well, if she just drank enough of whatever the elf and his dwarven lady had on hand surely that would do the job eventually. As he led her through another long dark corridor, Maerwyn was pleasantly surprised when it terminated in a room that would have given her quarters back at the Gilded Lantern a run for their money. The furniture was just as beautifully crafted as in the main room, and the bed in particular looked irresistible after two weeks on the road.

Only the wine on the table could have drawn her attention, and the mercenary practically ran across the room to seize the bottle. She cracked the seal with her teeth (a distasteful move, considering the dust on it), and wasted no time pouring herself a glass. The aroma was heavenly, but certainly not Dorwinion, and when she took the first taste she was taken aback at the simultaneously strong and bright flavor. Setting down the glass and looking more closely at the bottle, her eyes squinted as she tried to make out the letters. "Leb..." she murmured, wishing she had bothered to read more often instead of letting her skills rust into near illiteracy. "Leb-en-in..." Lebennin? By the stars, that was farther south than Minas Tirith! How in the world had Lorryn and Havus gotten their hands on such a thing.

"This...this is wonderful," she said finally, looking back at the elf with slightly more respect in her eyes. She was about to ask how he'd obtained it, but when he wrinkled his nose at her again and mentioned a bath, her dander rose again and she quickly drained her glass. "Sorry if I'm bothering you. I'm sure you know how it is, what with being on the road so often. Or are you the type of person who prefers to luxuriate at home?" Raising an eyebrow, Maerwyn poured herself another glass then gave it a swirl. "Must be nice."

Turning her back to the elf, the woman removed her pack and set it near the wall, then one-handedly removed her cloak and let it drape over the nearest chair. Without bothering to look and see if Lorryn was still watching her, Maerwyn first began to strip out of her armor, then her jerkin, then finally removed her boots and socks. When her glass was finally empty, only then did she set it aside and step through the door he'd indicated, wriggling out of her trousers and pulling her shirt over her head until she was entirely naked.

The next room was more dimly lit, but there were a few sconces in the wall she could easily light with her candle, revealing a small pool with steaming water in the middle of the floor. The mercenary's eyes widened in surprise. A hot spring? Here, of all places? Well, she was hardly going to complain. Undoing her plait, she slid fully into the water, letting her head sink below the surface for a moment before she rose up again, rubbing the grime from her face. The water felt so wonderful (especially when paired with the wine earlier) that she was almost willing to forgive Lorryn's poor sense of hospitality. And there was even soap! Dinner be damned, Maerwyn was going to have a good wash before she even thought about getting out again.

Taking the cake of vaguely floral-smelling soap from the bucket next to the spring, she scrubbed hard at first her limbs, then her hair. In the dim light it would have been hard for any spectator to make out the scars on her body, but when she finally did emerge into the dim light of the bedroom the lines seemed stark red on her pale skin. Her arms in particular had taken most of the damage over the years, back from when she lacked metal bracers and had taken too many blows below the elbow. But before she pulled her trousers back on, a long jagged line on her back, just above the right kidney, showed ugly in the candlelight, and when the throat of her shirt was open, it showed the tail end of a thick curve of scar tissue between her breasts.

Maerwyn would have been happy to go back out in the main room wearing just her shirt and trousers, but the bare stone floor beneath the rugs was cold on her feet, and without a jerkin to cover her chest her curves were barely concealed. Lorryn might not appreciate covering her clean body with dirty clothes, but unless she wanted to wear her now scandalously short sleeping shift (with the bottom half shredded for bandages, it now left the lower curves of her behind fully on display) he would just have to deal with it. After pulling on her jerkin and boots, the woman finger combed through her long brown hair then replaited it, and still keeping her knife on hand but leaving her bow and swords behind, she took a candle and wandered back out to the main room, following the smell of food more than remembering the route she'd taken earlier.

 

[Traveler]

Lorryn walked a pace then paused and turned back to the dwarf. “Your companion,” he began. “You pay her?”

Orin paused, his hand on the door to the guest room. “Uhm…yes?”

“You pay her, to be with you?”

Orin’s brows knitted tighter. He could not understand the line of questions, nor the man’s intent. “Yes, I pay her to be with me,” he answered. “Why are you—”

“Not that room.” Lorryn’s snapped. His eyes narrowed. “The next one is yours...” He watched the young dwarf falter, then nod his understanding and pass the door to the next. Confident that they were where they needed to be, the ranger turned and left the two to wash away their stench.

Orin could have sworn his mother had told him to go to the first door on the right. And though he could have argued with the elf, the man scared him. His efficiency with the bow was enough to frighten most, but his eyes were what troubled him. They reminded him, well…of the spiders. Soulless. Compassionless. How could someone like that have been the center of his mother’s world?

He wandered further down the corridor, placing thick layers of earth and stone between himself and Maerwyn. The room he came into was like hers with a few exceptions. There was no bed, only a crib, and no bottle of wine sat on the table. His eyes took in the shelves carved into the wall, two feet from the ground. Small toys were niched into them. He moved forward slowly, dropping his pack on the floor as he did. There, perched on a shelf, was a small carving of a dwarf with a lance, and beside it, a stuffed toy dragon.

The toy was worn from tiny hands and still bore the stains of play upon its fabric. He remembered now – forgetting his dragon, fearing it had been lost, and Mother finding one at the market to replace it. The toy he played with on the floor when she was leaving Father had been a replacement. Leaving him with Father. She hadn’t come to visit that day…she had brought him to the Lonely Mountain and left her son behind.

The fury overflowed. He picked up the crib and smashed it against the door. The deep shout that reverberated in his chest died in the stone and earth surrounding him, silencing him. He raged against the walls, screamed his pain and anger to the stone until his voice was gone, and when he had no more vehemence to expel, he slid against the wall with the dragon in his hand and wept.

In the main room the table had been set. A generous pot of stew sat steaming on the hearth, and bowls of robust vegetables and meat were set for four. Thick slices of bread made with nuts and honey sat on small, sturdy plates, and a platter of fruits and cheese graced the middle. In addition, a pitcher of frothing ale and one of water sat nearby, ready to fill their glasses if the need was had.

“Ah! There you are!” Now that her hugs had been filled with her son, Havus turned her attention to his companion and gave her a hug as well. “Maerwyn, is it? What a lovely name for a human girl. Don’t you think so, Lorryn?” She turned expectantly to her mate, who nodded once before returning to his arrows. His deft fingers flighted over the feathers of a left wing, flatting them before splitting each down the center. He repeated the motion, splitting each quietly and efficiently before discarding the unused side and setting the others aside.

Havus dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Men,” she chuckled. “Now come, while we wait on Orry tell me all about yourself.” She poured two short glasses full of sweet amber liquor and held one out to Maerwyn. “A toast, my dear. To you.” The drink was strong, and smooth. A pure heat spread across Havus’s chest, pinking her cheeks as she swallowed. “Damn! That’s good.”

Lorryn raised a brow but continued to work on his fletchings. These arrows would have six fletchings on them, stabilizing his arrow for a short, powerful shot.

“Sit, the stew will still be warm.” She led them to a plush low couch full of cozy pillows. “I want to hear honestly from you before he’s done with his bath. What kind of man is Orin?”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

As she made her way down the corridor towards the main room, a strange noise caught Maerwyn's attention and made her stop in her tracks. Had something broken somewhere? She listened closely, but all she could hear was the sound of Lorryn and Havus's hushed voices, and the occasional crackle at the large hearth ahead of her. Orin, where was Orin? Alarm bells began to ring in her mind and the mercenary wished she had keep more weapons with her than just her knife. But when her eyes fell upon the figures of the cave's inhabitants, it put her somewhat at ease. Both were accounted for and didn't seem up to anything particularly nefarious, and there were still four settings at the table. Perhaps someone merely had knocked something over somewhere.

Havus certainly seemed far from threatening as her eyes fell upon the woman, although when she embraced her Maerwyn couldn't help but tense up awkwardly. Friendly embraces were not something she'd had much experience with over the last ten or so years, and she could only manage to awkwardly pat the dwarf woman on the shoulders and gently try to push her back. After all, with their height difference Havus was practically pressing her face against Maerwyn's breasts. "Well, I didn't have much choice in the matter, but I haven't found a better name so far," she chuckled gently, sidling over towards the table. Her brown eyes shot one warning glare toward Lorryn, whom she fully expected to be silently mocking her during this exchange, but thankfully at the moment he seemed more interested in his arrows.

Meanwhile Orin's mother seemed much more interested in Maerwyn herself. Again, the woman found herself struggling to find something to say in response. "I ah...well...I'm a mercenary," she answered finally. Her posture relaxed a little when she saw drinks being poured, and she eagerly accepted the glass, even going so far as to return Havus' toast. "Mmm, please don't," the woman replied, smacking her lips and reveling in the golden warmth that ran down her throat and filled her heart. "I assure you madam, I'm nothing special. Your son hired me in Dale to accompany him on his journey through the woods. I'm just a humble sell-sword, nothing more. But thank you for sharing this with me," she raised the glass to indicate the liquor inside. "This is wonderful."

In other circumstances Maerwyn would have immediately begun sharing a tale of her own travels (and thus disproving the "humble" claim), but she could see the dwarf's real interest lie with her son, rather than his employee. Not that she could blame her, of course. "You know, it's so funny," the mercenary murmured, taking another sip of the liquor. "When he hired me, Orin didn't say a thing about going to see his mother. We're contracted to travel together to the Gladden Fields, of all places. Can you imagine?" Without bothering to ask for permission, she reached towards the platter in the middle of the table and selected a small red strawberry and popped it into her mouth, washing it down with another sip of the liquor. "Well as it turns out he's been headed for Moria this whole time. Says he needs to get something or another from there to impress some fair lady back in Erebor."

Was it just the way the liquor was washing over her tongue, or had a small note of venom crept into her voice? "Frankly, I think he's mad to even attempt it, and his lady Dís is either the most spoiled creature in the entire world, or else she's playing an awful trick on him by making him go all the way to such a dreadful place for some rusty bit of junk. S'pose it's none of my business though, long as I get paid, right? No madam, I'm sure it is not." Her glass was empty now, and Maerwyn's eyes had wandered from Havus' face to some shining point on the opposite wall. The wisest part of her mind was desperately pleading with the alcohol-soaked parts to stop talking before she said something stupid, and it had almost won when Havus asked what the mercenary really thought of her son.

"Orin?" Maerwyn repeated, swallowing hard and trying to think. "Well...bear in mind I've only known him a few weeks," she prefaced, thinking back to when she first saw him back in the Gilded Lantern, sitting alone and poring over his map. "I can't say he's great with navigation, but I admire his ambition. A bit naive, but utterly fearless. Unless you put him on a boat, of course," she giggled, remembering how he'd handled the passage to Esgaroth. "Of course, I've never heard him complain once. Not even when I--" Almost got him killed she was going to say, but even her sodden mind knew better than to mention that to his mother. "--made him eat fish for a week straight. And that axe of his! I've never seen anything like it. It's like he was born with it in his hand. Before your gentleman over there came to rescue us," Maerwyn inclined her head towards Lorryn. "Orin saved me from nearly being a spider's supper. And even though I told him to run away and save himself...he didn't."

The words seemed to echo in her mind. "He didn't leave me," she murmured again, wondering why he had stayed. Was Orin that afraid of getting lost in the woods that he didn't dare let her die? How ironic. If he really had run he probably would have found Lorryn either way, and instead of being out all the gold he would eventually owe her, all the dwarf would have had to do was give up his ring. Not even that; he could have come back and searched her bones to get it back.

But he had stayed right by her side, ready to die alongside her. Was Orin really that stupid? Or did Maerwyn dare hope...?

She quickly looked back towards Havus and smiled a little, realizing her had been silent for several moments. "All in all, madam, your son is a very good employer and a fine person, and I like him very, very much. May I have a glass of water?"

 

[Traveler]

She liked the girl. Havus sipped at her liquor, refilling their glasses before they reached bottom, and listened intently. It wasn’t just the words she paid attention to , but the way Maerwyn pronounced them, and the tilt of her head, the gestures with her hands, all the little things that mattered so much more than the words that were said. She admitted truthfully her line of work, and then revealed the way she came to be in Orin’s presence. The dwarven women smiled to know that Orin at least had the sense not to travel alone. Though it pained her heart to see that he had left the mountain with no Dwarven brothers at his side.

At the second cup the conversation finally started. Havus’ eyes flickered lightly when the mercenary told her that Orin had not intended to come to see her, but had contracted her to the Gladden fields.

“Can you imagine?" Without bothering to ask for permission, she reached towards the platter in the middle of the table and selected a small red strawberry and popped it into her mouth, washing it down with another sip of the liquor.

“What in the world would he be seeking there?” Havus wondered as she sipped more of her drink. Then she took a deeper swallow. That would have put her son far past her home, and he had not intended to visit? Then Maerwyn’s word drew her attention and she snapped her head around, not believing what she had heard. “Moria! What‽” She took another drink. “That’s a fool’s errand!”

“It is suicide,” Lorryn added quietly, his eyes still trained upon the shaft as delicate fingers placed and glued the fletchings to his arrow.

Was it just the way the liquor was washing over her tongue, or had a small note of venom crept into her voice? "Frankly, I think he's mad to even attempt it, and his lady Dís is either the most spoiled creature in the entire world, or else she's playing an awful trick on him by making him go all the way to such a dreadful place for some rusty bit of junk. S'pose it's none of my business though, long as I get paid, right? No madam, I'm sure it is not."

“That would be a horrible trick,” Havus agreed, finishing her glass and refilling it. She saw the maid’s empty one and reached to pour her more. “A cruel trick.”

“Murder,” Lorryn added, again his voice low.

Orin’s mother watched the girl’s face, seeing it grow soft as she thought back to when she met him. A few weeks’ was nothing in the life of elf, and just a flash to a dwarf, but to a human a few weeks could be a lifetime. She giggled at the thought of her son on his first boat. To think she missed it! Ah…so many things she missed. So many. She hook her head, then nodded at the mention of too much fish. Then she witnessed the flash of admiration in Maerwyn’s eyes as she described Orin with his axe. It made her think of how she felt when she first saw Lorryn shoot. She looked over at him now, a gentle smile upon her lips. He glanced up, saw her look, and nodded once.

"Orin saved me from nearly being a spider's supper. And even though I told him to run away and save himself...he didn't. He didn't leave me," she murmured again.

“Of course, he did not,” Havus echoed. “A true adventurer never leaves a friend behind. Even one newly met.” She saw the girl drift off into her thoughts and felt a little guilty for keeping her from bed. She stood to get her guest a glass of water. It impressed her that she still sat upright, to tell the truth. The glass had been filled more than once, and honeyed rum was powerfully potent. “Here you are, dear. I wonder what’s keeping him?”

“He comes,” Lorryn replied, setting his arrow aside and standing. His eyes went to the hallway. The sturdy, quick stride of Orin’s feet were audible before he emerged from the dark tunnel. He had bathed, and his forehead, now devoid of dirt and webbing, revealed green and gold remnants where the Easterling’s bow had contacted. His hair had been scrubbed and tied back, still damp from its cleansing, and the clothes he wore were cleaner. Though, like Maerwyn, he could have used the services of a good laundress. He didn’t bother with armor or belts, allowing his tunic to hang loose around his waist. But the thing that had changed he most was the expression on his face.

Havus’ eyes went wide. She had expected happiness or curiosity, but not this. Not…anger.

Orin stopped in front of her and handed her the dragon. Small, and old, it flopped sadly as it filled her hand. His voice was low and measured. “You don’t replace a mother with a toy,” he growled.

“Do not speak to her in that tone,” Lorryn began to admonish him, peering down his long, pale cheek at the dwaren ‘boy’.

“I will speak to her as I see fit!” He turned and shouted, then pointed to Maerwyn. “That woman has shown me more loyalty and kindness than my own mother, and I had to pay her for it!”

As dark eyes latched on grey, Havus eased nearer to Maerwyn and put a finger to her lips. “Tscht, tscht,” she cautioned. “Let them work it out. Don’t worry,” she said, laying a splayed hand across the girl’s forearm. “No one’s going to die tonight.” Her gaze returned to the men and she took a sip from her glass, trusting that it would be handled.

The elf moved closer, each step as measured and liquid as a dance. “She is your mother, and you will give her respect.”

“She is my ‘mother’, and she abandoned me!”

“She is your mother, and she saved you.” The elf corrected; his head tilted to the side. His left hand cradled a curved dagger held flat against his forearm, visible only to Maerwyn from where she stood. “So be a gentleman towards my wife,” he unfurled his other hand towards the dwarf, palm up, “and sit. Eat. And listen…unless you already know all there is to know?” he concluded, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Orin paused. His eyes stormed, and he took several breaths before answering. His shoulders fell slightly and he conceded. “Alright,” he finally said.

Lorryn’s gaze slid to Maerwyn before he, too, moved to sit.

Havus seemed unfazed. She walked to the table as if nothing had happend and smiled from her seat as she picked up a piece of bread. “Eat first, Orry. You’re always so angry when you’re hungry.”

“How would you know?” he spat.

“You have a guest,” she said, her motherly tone unmistakable. “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of your young lady friend. You’ll make her uncomfortable.” She gave Maerwyn an apologetic smile. “You’ll get used to us, dearest. Keep your dwarf well fed—”

“—in all things,” Lorryn added under his breath.

She shot him a glance, “and we’ll be less grumpy.”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"I don't know that I'd call us friends, exactly," Maerwyn replied slowly, the cool water clearing her head a little without chasing the warmth from her chest. "If I'm being honest, he only hired me because I more or less pushed him into it. Before that he seemed fully intent on taking this entire journey on his own. But I needed work and he needed help, so here we are." Which meant that, if things had been different, Orin would probably only be a day or two out of Esgaroth by this time. If not dead. Probably dead the mercenary thought grimly, nibbling at a bit of cheese and eying the stew more hungrily now that the alcohol had brought out her appetite.

Luckily Orin didn't keep them waiting too long. She was about to ask how his bath had been (he certainly looked like a new man, with clean clothes, beard, and hair), but the look on his face made her think better of it. Raising her water glass to her lips, Maerwyn immediately dropped her eyes, not wanting to be involved in the family drama that was beginning to unfold before her. While she had a fair amount of experience being in the middle of filial arguments, as far as she could remember this was the first time she'd actually had to watch one. It made her feel exceedingly uncomfortable, and she felt a little torn between the sides, what with her business arrangement to Orin and the warm kindness Havus had shown her.

But at the end of the day, her loyalties always had to lie with her purse. Unless Orin's mother was willing to exceed the price of one gold per day, Maerwyn decided she needed to firmly plant herself at the male dwarf's back. Besides, she could at the very least understand where he was coming from, and she even had to conceal a small smile behind her hand when her employer turned his wrath on the elf. "That'll teach you to keep your pretty face out of other peoples' business," she muttered, swallowing the words with another mouthful of water before pouring herself a refill.

She was a bit taken aback though when Orin pointed in her direction, and while there wasn't necessarily anything untrue in his words, something about the way he said them still made her hackles rise a little. "Don't get me involved in this..." she began, but Havus quickly cut her off with a finger. The mercenary's eyes flashed in warning for a moment, and wrapping one of her hands around the dwarf's surprisingly sturdy wrist, Maerwyn firmly removed her hand from her arm. "As I was saying madam, it's not my business. I'm just the hired help. This is all between you, and your son, and your...whatever he is." She jerked her head towards Lorryn, then turned her attention back to the plate in front of her. It annoyed her that Havus seemed so uninterested in either defending her son or her husband (Really? The elf had married her? How in the world had that come about?) and the woman's growing appetite was making her cross.

Maerwyn was so distracted that at first she hadn't quite noticed the hilt against Lorryn's palm, but as soon as she did she froze, her hand slowly dropping to grip the knife on the table next to her plate. She probably couldn't make as good of a throw with that as she could with her own dagger, but she'd be able to throw it faster at least. After a few more sharps words though, it seemed unnecessary and the mercenary allowed herself to relax just a little. Still, when Orin sat down at the table she made she to catch his gaze with hers, silently reminding him she had his back no matter what he wanted to do. Her fingers remained closed around the wooden handle of the knife.

"Oh don't worry," she murmured, cutting herself another slice of bread. "You couldn't make me any more uncomfortable if you tried. It's the whole cave thing, you know." The woman gestured with her knife towards the ceiling before taking a bite of the bread. "I don't really care for underground places. I'm surprised you can stand it all all," Maerwyn added, glancing pointedly at Lorryn before turning her attention back to her supper.

 

[Traveler]

Lorryn regarded the human’s comment, then took a bite of stew. As he ate, he contemplated the strange girl who had accompanied the boy home. She was sharp and certainly wiser in all things than Orin. Her admission that she had imposed herself on the dwarf had been an interesting revelation.

She wasn’t exactly the boy’s friend…she was paid to be in his company. Yet she had been a heartbeat from drawing her own knife when she thought that Orin was in danger. The elf’s dark eyes went from the dwarven lad to the human woman, then to Havus. The dynamics of a group of people set apart by their shared goals was one unique to those with an adventuring heart. It seemed that Orin had his mother’s heart in many things; adventuring being only the first. His loyalty was another. He had stayed with the mercenary in the spider-infested forest even as she had commanded him to flee. Maerwyn had been committed to stay behind to protect him. What had she said? "There's too many of them. You need to run. I can keep them busy, just go!"

The elf took a sip from the fluted glass before him, feeling the warmth spread across his neck and chest. In the hundred-odd years he had been in Havus’ company she had taught him to enjoy many things foreign to the elven nations. Dwarven spirits was one.

"I don't really care for underground places. I'm surprised you can stand it all all," Maerwyn added, glancing pointedly at Lorryn before turning her attention back to her supper.

“Maerwyn,” he said, using her name for the first time, “I was born in a cave.” He studied her. In his periphery he saw Orin watching, though the lad continued to eat with gusto. “My people are not like the elves of this forest. We thrive in darkness.” He lifted his chin slightly as he continued. “We also believe in keeping our vows, so when Havus shared that she needed to return to the Lonely Mountain for a time, I consented.”

Orin’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean, ‘consented’?” He looked to his mother for an explanation.

“Oh, dear,” she replied, refilling her glass. She passed the bottle to Lorryn, who did the same, before passing it to Orin. Havus eyed their bowls to see if they had eaten enough to no longer be hangrily unreasonable.

“My darlings, let’s get this out so we can enjoy the rest of your visit. Forgive me, son, and Maerwyn, for not cushioning this in flowery language. Like an arrow stuck in your thigh, sometimes it’s best to just yank the fucker out.” She took a long drink before continuing. Orin did as well, then passed the bottle to Maerwyn. His eyes caught hers a moment and he was thankful that she was there. She was going to have to get double her pay for these days in the cave, he decided. She would have earned it by the time their visit was through.

“I love the road.” She smiled. “And I had been traveling with a small group, including Lorryn,” she looked at him with unabashed adoration, “for years, when it occurred to me that I had made a promise I had yet to keep.” Her eyes went to Orin. “When I was younger than you are now, I pledged to Thimli that I would be his mate, you see. We don’t have children often,” she explained to Maerwyn, “since there are not many dwarven women born. And though some of us never chose to find a mate, I had thought it selfish at the time and swore that I would give at least two children back to our people.”

Her smile was sweet and sad. “And so, when I turned a hundred, I left my husband and returned to do just that. I had Margo, your sister, and then Holt only fifteen years later. Once Holt was nearly thirty I thought him old enough for me to return to my life. My duty to the nations was done.”

She took another piece of bread and dipped it in her stew. “And shortly after I got home, Lorryn and I discovered I was with child again. With you. We thought you were ours,” she looked at her husband again, her voice thickening. “Orin if a boy, Orina if a girl…” her throat caught.

A few moments later, Lorryn picked up where she left off. “Thimli discovered that you lived, and demanded we return you to the mountain. He would not see reason, and Havus did not want to see me kill her kin. You were returned until you were of age to choose your own path.”

Havus wiped at the corner of her eyes with her apron. Then she took a hearty drink, draining her cup. “So now you know. That bastard should have told you, but never mind that. What’s this foolishness I hear about you going to Moria to impress some girl named Dís?”

Orin’s face paled and he turned to Maerwyn. “What‽ You told them that?”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Wow, I'm very impressed," Maerwyn replied flatly as Lorryn explained his origins. She hadn't really intended to speak so sharply; after all she'd never heard of elves that lived underground, outside of some of Thilion's old stories. But something about the dark-haired elf's smug face and the self-righteous tone in his voice just made her want to start throwing punches. Nevermind the fact that he was probably much, much older and probably a thousand times more dangerous than the mercenary was. Whatever it was that Havus kept pouring into the woman's cup had her convinced she could take him in a fight.

But in the meantime she still had a mostly full bowl of stew and Orin had his own questions to ask, so she decided the best course of action for the moment was to eat first and break Lorryn's nose later.

She tried not to make it obvious that she was listening in on the conversation, but after all Maerwyn was right there. And she had to admit she was curious, particularly regarding Havus' early days. Hadn't Orin said that dwarven women rarely left home? Yet his mother seemed quite the wandering butterfly, no doubt surrounded by a circle of devoted flowers. A pretty existence of course, but being a wanderer herself the woman couldn't help but wonder how they all survived. Had they too sold their blades to the highest bidder, or did they simply take what they needed when the opportunity was good? Or was it simply one long journey from one end of the world to the other that ate up the years and kept them all from their homes by necessity?

Maerwyn wanted to ask all of these questions, but judging by the look on Orin's face it didn't seem like now was the appropriate time. Besides, Havus had raised another point that almost made the mercenary spit out her liquor.

They thought Lorryn was Orin's father?

It didn't seem possible. Not just because the two men barely resembled each other (all right, maybe in their coloring, just a little), but because in all her years of wandering Maerwyn had never once heard of a elf and a dwarf producing a child. Indeed, there had only ever been two instances of elves producing children with humans, and those had been a full Age ago and grew to be figures of legend. And while Orin was perfectly fine in her eyes, the mercenary certainly wouldn't have put him on the same level as Dior and Eärendil. No, her employer seemed as much of a dwarf as any she had ever seen, handsome face and all.

But it did raise another question in her mind. She knew it was possible for an elf and a human to have a child together (assuming the human was good enough for the elf, she scoffed), but what about a human and a dwarf? She'd never heard of a formal marriage between the two races, but she knew the whores of Dale and Esgaroth weren't above taking one of the mountain folk to bed if the price was right. Surely accidents must have happened, but then again unless there was gossip in town of a bearded baby being born perhaps dwarven heritage wouldn't show itself so obviously on the surface. A human man could be short and strong and grow an exceptional beard if he chose, and so could some particularly unfortunate women. It would probably only be slowed aging process or a surplus of years on the hybrid's life that might hint at any kind of mixed parentage, and Maerwyn couldn't name any specific examples of either off the top of her head. It seemed most likely then that humans and dwarves were simply incompatible on a reproductive level.

Which, as she looked over at Orin's face again and felt the liquor bringing new heat to her cheeks, didn't seem like the worst thing in the world.

Unfortunately, a dalliance seemed like the last thing on the dwarf's mind as he turned his angry gaze on his bodyguard. Havus had just mentioned Moria, and the error of her previous words suddenly came crashing down on Maerwyn's head like a thunderclap.

"What‽ You told them that?” Orin accused.

The mercenary held up one hand, which she had forgotten was still clutching at a half-eaten slice of bread. "To be fair, you did'na tell me 'twas a secret," she slurred, raising one eyebrow at him before taking a vicious bite. "It's a stupid idea anyway. You'll ne'er get past the orcs. You should just go find a wife in the Blue Mountains. I know the way. Or just don't bother getting married at all. Either way," the woman shrugged, then took another drink and immediately forgot what she was talking about.

Instead she devoted herself to finishing her meal, and when she felt as though she couldn't eat any more, Maerwyn looked over at Havus again and smiled. Lorryn was an ass, but the dwarf was all right in her book. And she probably did Orin a favor anyways, saving him from being raised up by a stuffy prig like that. "Supper was wonderful, thank you very much," the woman said in her politest tone, punctuated here and there with a liquor-scented hiccup.

 

[Traveler]

"It's a stupid idea anyway. You'll ne'er get past the orcs. You should just go find a wife in the Blue Mountains. I know the way. Or just don't bother getting married at all. Either way," the woman shrugged, then took another drink and immediately forgot what she was talking about.

“She’s right, you know,” Havus agreed. “You’ll get yourself killed. Whoever sent you there is no one you should be involved with, Orin. This Dís…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.”

“She said she’d accept my proposal if I brought the sister to Narsil, the Dagger of Nar, forged by Telchar of Nogrod, to her. She said it was in Moria, and…and I swore I would not return without it.” He felt the blood drain from his face. All the things that Maerwyn had told him, all the little clues and hints. Had she been trying to warn him that Dís didn’t want him? Ever?

He sat there in silence, feeling like everything he had believed had been shattered in an instant. “I swore I’d not go back without it,” he repeated, understanding at last the finality of that foolish pledge. He looked from Maerwyn to Havus. His guide looked quite happy; perhaps the result of all the liquor that passed between her lips.

It was Lorryn’s voice that brought him back to the present. “The answer is simple Orin. Do not go back.” Glanced over as Maerwyn thanked them for their supper, then hiccupped. “You should take her to bed,” he suggested, standing and starting to clear the table.

“Yes,” suggested Havus. “And in the morning, we’ll have a big breakfast and talk some more. But first, sleep.” She smiled, then reached across the table and placed a hand on his, knocking over the stuffed dragon as she did. “I’ve missed you. I really have.” The toy made her pause. “You…went into the nursery? The guest room is the first one on the right, I thought I told you that.”

Orin rolled his gaze to Lorryn. “I must have misheard you.” He sighed and grabbed the bottle, still half full, bade them good night, and stood. “You coming?” He asked Maerwyn. The floor shifted slightly, or at least it seemed to from his sudden upright position.

“You’d better help her,” Havus suggested as she stood to help with the dishes. “Humans. They have a difficult time with the drinky,” she smiled, then shooed them off. “Kids…”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

“You should take her to bed," the elf had said, and Maerwyn could feel those sharp eyes piercing in her direction. The nerve of him! She'd been drinking for

"You should shut your damn mouth," she grunted, staggering to her feet with her hands curled into fists. "It en't like that with me 'n him. An' if it were, what'd you care? Just 'cuz your kind en't so fond o' mortal girls don't mean there en't others who like a bit of the ole--"

The ground was beginning to spin, and the woman needed to grip the edge of the table for balance while her train of thought went racing off a cliff. By the stars, what in the world was that stuff that Havus had given her? And where could she get a bottle of her own? It certainly put the brandy in her own flask to shame as far as flavor and potency went, but then again that liquor never seemed to put so much fight in her. Dwarves she nodded to herself as though she'd said the word aloud, then turned her attention back towards Havus.

"Thank you very much for supper and the drinks, madam. They were quite lovely. I think I'm ready to get some rest now, it's been a very long evening. Good night." Despite her best attempts at a polite tone, the words were still heavily slurred, and the woman's eyes weren't quite fixed on her hostess's face. Of course, Maerwyn was seeing at least three of them, so it was a little bit harder to focus. But it wasn't so hard to pick out Lorryn on the far side of the table, and while the smile she'd offered to Havus didn't fade when the woman turned to face him, she did accompany it with a rude hand gesture. "And you sir, may go fuck yourself. Good night as well."

Turning, she draped one arm heavily around Orin, not pausing to wonder if he could support her weight. He must not have had too much trouble though, because the next thing she knew she was back in the room from earlier. Her weapons and armor still lay undisturbed, and while Maerwyn glanced for a moment at the temptingly open bottle of wine on the table, she decided the bed beneath her (when had she laid down?) was far too comfortable to abandon. She did manage to summon enough strength to remove her jerkin and throw it across the room though, followed by her boots.

"By the stars I missed this. Real pillows and blankets and everything," Maerwyn murmured, rolling onto her side and rubbing her cheek against the slightly rough but not unpleasant fabric of the bedding. Still feeling warmed by the liquor, she didn't bother to crawl under the blankets, but instead raised her head slightly as she looked over towards the dwarf. "Come to bed, Orin. It's big enough for two, and you can't want to sleep on a stone floor. Or is that another dwarf thing?" A bizarrely feminine giggle escaped her lips as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the mica-flecked ceiling, the little chips here and there reflecting the lamplight like stars.

"Been a while since we had a roof above us," she continued, raising her arms over her head to run her fingers along the fine metal tracery of the headboard. "Remember that room at the Dead Cod? I'm surprised you didn't abandon this whole venture after that night. Ah well, at least tonight we don't need to worry about old Ogmar coming to collect his debts. I wonder if he ever did wake up after you punched his lights out?"

She still smiled at the memory of that, and as she sighed contentedly she was suddenly reminded of the necklace hanging heavily beneath her tunic. Untying the neck and opening it somewhat, she reached inside and pulled out the two rings on the chain, beginning to finger them slowly in the hopes it would help the room stop spinning a little. "Orin, can I ask you something?" Maerwyn murmured after a few moments. She hesitated, then rolled onto her side again to look him straight in the face.

"What in the world were we drinking tonight?"

 

[Traveler]

The thing about Maerwyn was that she was afraid of nothing. Nothing that she should be afraid of, that was. Orin noted how she spoke to Lorryn, who he thought was somewhat frightening, and told him to go fuck himself after he suggested bed. Her arm flopped over Orin’s shoulder. And after a few false steps where she couldn’t seem to put one foot in front of the other, he looped his other arm around her and lifted her off the floor. She didn’t seem to mind, nuzzling her face in his neck and murmuring something incomprehensible as she did.

As they left the room, Havus turned to her husband. “What do you think?” she asked, her matronly mind fast at work.

He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow and looked past her, into the darkened corridor where the two had gone. “She reminds me of you, when we first met,” he admitted. Then placed a hand near his heart. “I still have the scar you gave me with your dagger the first time you got drunk.” A small curve tugged at his lips.

“Is that when you knew you loved me?” she asked, her eyes softened in memory.

“No…” he picked the last dish up and stacked it on the counter. “I think it was when you threw your axe at me,” he admitted, “and hit the ogre instead.”

“I was trying to hit the ogre!”

“Of course, you were.”

The door opened to his kick, and Orin unceremoniously dumped his guide upon the bed within. If she was as drunk as she appeared, she wouldn’t remember it anyway. As she laid there and stared at the ceiling, he took a drink from the bottle he had swiped and set it by the wine. A flash of moment caught his eye, right before one of Maerwyn’s boots hit the wall. It was soon followed by its mate.

"By the stars I missed this. Real pillows and blankets and everything," she murmured as she rolled on the bed like a cat, feeling the bedding beneath her. Her jerkin collected halfway up her abdomen, revealing the alluring stretch of skin beneath her breasts. "Come to bed, Orin. It's big enough for two, and you can't want to sleep on a stone floor. Or is that another dwarf thing?" A bizarrely feminine giggle escaped her lips as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the mica-flecked ceiling, the little chips here and there reflecting the lamplight like stars.

"Been a while since we had a roof above us," she continued, raising her arms over her head to run her fingers along the fine metal tracery of the headboard. Orin’s eyes followed the hem of her shirt as it slid further up her skin. He remembered the way her body had looked by the river; the curves above her hips, the strong lines of her thighs…

"Remember that room at the Dead Cod? I'm surprised you didn't abandon this whole venture after that night. Ah well, at least tonight we don't need to worry about old Ogmar coming to collect his debts. I wonder if he ever did wake up after you punched his lights out?"

“Probably not,” he muttered, taking another drink before slipping his tunic over his head and laying it across the chair. He slipped off his shoes and set them by the wall, then carried the bottle back to the bed. As she pulled her necklace out from her shirt he sat the bottle down, then rolled onto the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other laying across his bare chest.

He breathed deeply, acutely aware of her lying next to him and looking at the rings around her neck. He slid his arm up and peered at her. Next to the ring he had paid her with was the wooden one. She seemed lost in thought, sliding her fingers about their curves. “Orin, can I ask you something?”

“Yes…?” he replied, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He expected something deep; some question to end all questions. Some thing to answer the mysteries of the universe. Instead, she rolled over and looked at him, mere inches from his face, and asked about the drink.

He frowned. Reaching behind him with the hand that had been on his stomach, he grabbed the bottle and set it on his chest. “This?” he asked. “This is Sack Mead,” he explained. “A lord’s mead; strong and sweet, and…strong.” He chuckled, raising his head and shoulders to take a sip. The movement accentuated the hard lines along his body. He had grown leaner during their weeks on the road, but no less sturdy, and as he moved the dips and bulges in his form heightened. He held the bottle towards her once he had taken his drink, offering her more. When they were both done he set it back, then laid his head upon the pillow.

He extended his arm and drew her closer, bringing her head to his chest. “Just lay with me, Maerwyn,” he asked. After a moment he had a question of his own. “Maerwyn? What is that wooden ring you wear? Why is it so important to you?”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Maerwyn's breath caught in her throat at the sight of Orin's bare chest. She'd seen him shirtless before of course, but he'd been injured and bleeding then. Her eyes drifted down to the small scar in his side where the Easterling's arrow had pierced. It looked almost fully healed by now, which evoked an even greater look of wonder from the woman. A human man would still be in bandages, but the dwarf was already beginning to scar out. Her hand lifted for a moment, fingers ready to brush lightly over the the mark, but either her tiredness or a last stage of better judgement made her drop it.

It couldn't last long though, not with him laying so closely beside her. The mercenary shut her eyes a moment and breathed in through her nose, smelling his scent with lingering traces of the hot spring water. When she opened them again, she looked directly over at him, distantly realizing that positioned like this, he might have been any other man. All the time they'd traveled together Maerwyn had been so conscious of their differences. True, he was tall for a dwarf, and she was short for a human, but there was still a clear physical difference between them. Not to mention the fact that he was twice her age yet had managed to accrue only a quarter of her life experience. A strange smile slowly graced her lips as the old question slithered through her mind again.

Had he ever had a woman?

Thankfully she didn't get the chance to ask it aloud. At the sight of the bottle balancing on his chest, Maerwyn laughed again and closed her fingers around the neck, her own hand lingering over his as she pulled it away. "And why do they call it 'Sack' mead? Doesn't have anything to do with where people end up after they drink it, do they?" Raising the vessel to her lips, she took a long drink, spilling a few drops over her chin with a giggle as she pulled it away. Wiping her mouth with one hand, she carefully placed the bottle back on Orin's chest, pausing to run her palm over the smooth lines of his pectorals as if she were steadying a wobbling table.

But there was clearly something else the dwarf wanted on top of him besides wine. "Careful, you'll knock over the rest!" Maerwyn laughed, snatching at he bottle again and rolling closer to him. She reached across his broad shoulders to set the bottle on a real table, allowing her breasts to crush against his side while her braid fell over one shoulder to tickle against his chest. Once she was sure the mead was secure, she relaxed her body somewhat, allowing him to bear more of her weight. "You're so strong...it feels like you could crush me," she murmured, letting he hand wander aimlessly over his body while the other continued to toy with her rings.

If it weren't for the wine, and his scent, and the feel of Orin's hard body beneath her, Maerwyn might have tensed at the question about the wooden ring. It wasn't something she cared to talk about, but after everything that had happened tonight...well, why not tell him? "It was my mother's," she murmured, lifting up the chain a little and pressing the smooth circle of wood into the dwarf's palm. "My father gave it to her when they were first married. It's all I have left of her. She died when I was ten."

And that had been the start of everything. The good, the bad, all the strange circumstances that had taken her through forests, over mountains, across plains and into strange towns...until she ended up here in a cave, curled up against a dwarf who made her heart pound and her head spin. Maerwyn was silent for several moments, then propped herself up on one elbow to better look into Orin's face. Without a word she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, only for a brief moment, but it felt like a wonderful eternity. She could taste the mead on him, and his beard scratched pleasantly against her chin and cheeks. She brought up one hand to caress the side of his face for a moment, and then like a dream it was over.

She laid back down with her head resting lightly on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "So that's what it's like to kiss a dwarf. I was wondering about that for a while," she yawned, wrapping one arm around his waist and pulling closer.

 

[Traveler]

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I think ‘Sack’ is where they came invented it…” he watched the bottle press to her lips. Those lips that had cursed at Ogmar and Lorryn, had convinced Orin to hire her, and had spoken to him about Dís with an honesty that had finally come to light. The liquid slipped over her chin and down her jaw before disappearing in the dark valley between her breasts.

And then those same breasts were crushed against him as she reached across his body, steadying the bottle. She smelled like a meadow in bloom after the rain. Clean and fresh, and full of possibilities. Her admiration of his strength was appreciated, as was her honest answer about the ring. With a thud of his chest he realized he was glad it was her mother’s and not a lover’s ring. A promise that she would come back one day and join the unseen one who had captured her heart.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “About your mother. It sounds like you loved her tremendously.” They laid there, hearts beating and heads swimming. So much had happened in the last few weeks. Orin’s entire world had been turned upside down, and it started with someone sending him off to die. He allowed his eyes to close as he laid there, the feel of Maerwyn at his side. It felt right. He felt oddly at peace, and he liked it.

She shifted slightly, then he felt the press of softness against his lips. A hand was on his cheek, holding him gently in place. By the time he realized what was happening, it was over, and she laid back down. "So that's what it's like to kiss a dwarf. I was wondering about that for a while," she yawned, wrapping one arm around his waist and pulling closer.

‘What‽’ he thought, his first kiss, and he missed it? That wasn’t fair. No, he was not going to let this pass. Of all things, he should be able to enjoy the kiss, not be so surprised as to completely miss the experience. He brushed the braid out of her face, the backs of his fingers trailing across her cheek, then shifted to press her against the bed as he leaned over her. “My turn,” he said, still tasting the sweet nectar of her lips.

His hand cupped the side of her head as he bent down, brushing her lips with hers and testing them before kissing her. Soft, and urgent, not wanting to crush her, but wanting to be closer. After a few moments lost in her touch he drew back and gazed down at Maerwyn. “You’re prettier than an elf,” he said, leaning back upon the pillow now that he’d had his kiss. And she was. Sturdy and strong, she had the qualities dwarves admired. She was skillful at her craft and also a warrior. All she needed was a soft, short beard, and every dwarf in the Lonely Mountain would be clambering for her affections. As a matter of fact, side by side, and with a soft shadow of fuzz around her jaw, she was prettier than Dís, and nicer too. Much nicer.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Thanks to the alcohol, Maerwyn wasn't really capable of thinking about the consequences of her actions. If she were sober she might have assumed Orin would reject her advances, maybe even be downright upset considering his tentative engagement. The last thing she expected was that he would roll over, press his body to hers, and kiss her back. Her eyes widened for a moment, then drifted shut as her body began to respond. Her arms wound loosely around his shoulders, fingers twining in his hair for a moment as she parted her lips slightly, inviting him deeper. But to her frustration, he'd pulled away slightly, and was now staring at her in a way that brought fresh color to her cheeks.

“You’re prettier than an elf,” he said, leaning back upon the pillow.

"And you're drunk as a lord," the mercenary retorted with a grin, delivering the words in a warm whisper directly against his ear. "But then again, so am I. Otherwise I'd never do this." Pushing herself upward, she shifted until her hips were straddling either side of him. She began to trace a single finger down the middle of his chest as she brought her lips almost all the way to his. "If you want to sleep with me, you can. For no coin at all. But only if you want to." Maerwyn didn't want to admit it, but she knew there was a chance Orin would say no. They were in his mother's house, and he had Dís to think of, and he hadn't exactly been impressed with her previous romantic exploits.

But when Maerwyn looked down at the man beneath her, he was something entirely different from all of the other men she'd been with. She'd been telling the truth when she said she was more interested in their money than anything else, but that wasn't the case with Orin. Well, technically she did still want his coin, but she would have been more than willing to trade it for...what? His regard? His respect? His heart? The answers couldn't seem to penetrate her fogged mind, and it only added to her growing frustrations.

"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--" Maerwyn froze. Would he leave? This was his home after all, at least that was what Havus claimed. Things might have been tense between Orin and his mother, but surely he wanted more than one evening with her. Maybe more than a week...or a year. And Maerwyn couldn't stay with him that long. Sooner or later, she'd have to leave.

Better make it count then she thought to herself, bending down to kiss him again. There was more hunger and insistence in her lips now, and her thighs tightened around his hips. It might not have been fair, but Maerwyn was determined to make it as difficult as possible for Orin to say no to her.