Morgyn Leri (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morgynleri) wrote2015-11-04 10:29 am
morgynleri) wrote2015-11-04 10:29 am
Entry tags:
Mini Nano Day 4
Hobbit: Northern Night
The winds never cease at Erebor's peak, sometimes swift and biting cold, other times soft whispers that hint at the summer warmth far below. Here, the snow never melts entirely, though there are places where the rocks show through at the height of summer, each of them delicately spangled with pale lichen.
Tauriel closes her eyes, turning her face into the sun as she settles into her favorite niche in the rocks and ice. She dares not stay here long, but for a few hours at least, she can have peace here. Listen to the mingled sorrow and joy of creaking ice and wet rock, of the quiet, slow murmur of the lichens and the deep thrumming melody of the sun as it sails overhead.
It's past high sun when she returns inside, pausing at the first turn of the narrow passage when she sees someone waiting for her, dark-haired and tall for a dwarf. Not Kíli, with silver heavily threading through the mostly unbraided hair and close-trimmed beard. His uncle. Thorin.
"Your Majesty." She bows her head for a moment, watching him from beneath her lashes until she straightens again. "What brings you here?"
Thorin is quiet a moment, watching her with an expression Tauriel has trouble deciphering. There is, she thinks, some warmth to it, at least.
"You." His lips twist a moment in a smile that holds as much pain as kindness. "I have not had a chance to speak with you before this."
And there is little chance to speak to her if he does not want Kíli present, once she returns to the lower halls.
"What would you speak to me about?" Tauriel is almost afraid of what he might say, and her hand strays to the pouch hung about her neck for a moment before she deliberately clasps her hands behind her. She does not need a talisman here, and certainly not that one.
Thorin notices, and tilts his head slightly. "About my sister-son. About Kíli." He pauses, and moves a little down the passage, to where it widens, and a bench is set close to the wall. "How did you meet?"
"He took me from the field before the main fortress of Gundabad, after I had fallen." Tauriel had thought she wanted to die for the first few days in that dark place. Until sense had reasserted itself. Someone had to tell Thranduil his queen still lived. "Stitched my wounds, hid me from the Commander of Gundabad and her creatures."
She doesn't know if it had been the close confines, kept so close to the dwarf she'd seen then as captor, that had made her think kindly on him. If it had been the reprieve from the horrors she'd heard done by orcs that had made her think him kind then. Even now, Tauriel doesn't know if she should nurture the affection for Kíli, or smother it out like an unwanted flame.
The winds never cease at Erebor's peak, sometimes swift and biting cold, other times soft whispers that hint at the summer warmth far below. Here, the snow never melts entirely, though there are places where the rocks show through at the height of summer, each of them delicately spangled with pale lichen.
Tauriel closes her eyes, turning her face into the sun as she settles into her favorite niche in the rocks and ice. She dares not stay here long, but for a few hours at least, she can have peace here. Listen to the mingled sorrow and joy of creaking ice and wet rock, of the quiet, slow murmur of the lichens and the deep thrumming melody of the sun as it sails overhead.
It's past high sun when she returns inside, pausing at the first turn of the narrow passage when she sees someone waiting for her, dark-haired and tall for a dwarf. Not Kíli, with silver heavily threading through the mostly unbraided hair and close-trimmed beard. His uncle. Thorin.
"Your Majesty." She bows her head for a moment, watching him from beneath her lashes until she straightens again. "What brings you here?"
Thorin is quiet a moment, watching her with an expression Tauriel has trouble deciphering. There is, she thinks, some warmth to it, at least.
"You." His lips twist a moment in a smile that holds as much pain as kindness. "I have not had a chance to speak with you before this."
And there is little chance to speak to her if he does not want Kíli present, once she returns to the lower halls.
"What would you speak to me about?" Tauriel is almost afraid of what he might say, and her hand strays to the pouch hung about her neck for a moment before she deliberately clasps her hands behind her. She does not need a talisman here, and certainly not that one.
Thorin notices, and tilts his head slightly. "About my sister-son. About Kíli." He pauses, and moves a little down the passage, to where it widens, and a bench is set close to the wall. "How did you meet?"
"He took me from the field before the main fortress of Gundabad, after I had fallen." Tauriel had thought she wanted to die for the first few days in that dark place. Until sense had reasserted itself. Someone had to tell Thranduil his queen still lived. "Stitched my wounds, hid me from the Commander of Gundabad and her creatures."
She doesn't know if it had been the close confines, kept so close to the dwarf she'd seen then as captor, that had made her think kindly on him. If it had been the reprieve from the horrors she'd heard done by orcs that had made her think him kind then. Even now, Tauriel doesn't know if she should nurture the affection for Kíli, or smother it out like an unwanted flame.
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