Chapter Text
Lost or Wandering
{…} means English speech.
‘Twenty miles yesterday, twenty-five before that. Today should be about fifteen if we’re lucky.’ Farin grimaced as he watched the child scout from her spot on Carin’s back. She looked as if she thought she belonged there. All high and mighty without having to set a single foot on the ground. Walking on foot was the only way to travel as poor as they are. The brisk pace they had before their unexpected addition would have landed them at their destination right on time. Scowling, piercing dark eyes scanned the far-spanning horizon. The woods all those miles back looked like nothing more than a speck in the distance; up ahead, miles further, there looked to be another forest head. Just as dark and just as dense, if not more so.
“You’re sure you’re reading the map, right?” The sound of Farin’s skepticism made Karin chuckle. The guttural sound made the child strapped to Carik’s back hum in interest, as if his amusement were actually her own.
Swinging her legs happily on either side of Carik’s broad back, her lilting tones drifted to that of a rhythmless tune. Her voice would waver in and out of tune; sometimes Carik would hop along with the beat or chime in with a strong belt that would make the girl erupt into a fit of giggles.
“Careful, lad, she’ll have you dancing all the way to town if you let her.” Rolling his eyes at Farin’s jab, Carik paid him no mind as he hoisted the child higher. His strong hands supported her under each knee as the straps securing her to him kept her in place.
Calling out from a few steps ahead, Karin’s tone cut through the atmosphere like a knife. “Settle down back there; the more time you spend talking means more time and energy being wasted not walking.” Immediately the two sobered up. But the girl continued to hum, albeit more quietly. There was no mistaking his tone; universal body language gives more than one initially thinks: Karin was irritated. As was Farin.
Farin’s knees ached. Not as much as he thought they would due to his age, but enough to make walking at the slightly slower pace enough of a nuisance. The breeze brought with it a tender chill that was more than welcomed on the sore spot on the back of his sunburnt neck. The only downfall was that the wind carried with it pollen, making his nose drip and eyes water. A family predisposition, though Karin didn’t get his allergies until winter turned to spring. ‘Just my luck.’ Sniffling, he turned his eyes to Karin ahead. His long strides showed no signs of slowing, as if fatigue hadn’t yet settled into his bones. As the minutes passed, the child’s hums grew quieter once more, and the grasslands gave way to uneven earth. Green and brown shallow dips and rises littered the land. It was a pretty sight for those who had a full stomach. Every now and again, Teor’s boots would strike against a hidden stone, and a hollow sound and a muttered curse would carry across the open stretch of grassland. The sky, pale blue and cloudless, gave no hint of the hour; only the steady passage of the sun arcing across the sky and moving the shadows along the ground told them time was still moving.
“Fifteen more miles,” he says, Carik muttered stiffly under his breath. Jostling the elfling for a brief moment, her peals of laughter made them all feel lighter. But no less wary. “Feels like it’s been thirty.”
“Then you should let the girl walk; she’s got feet.” Farin replied, giving the child a pointed look. His eyes scanned her features once more, judging whether or not she could manage a mile or two on her own two feet.
At his assessing stare, her lips morphed into a pout before she stuck her tongue out in response, a tiny, fleeting act of defiance and pride that made Teor crack a rolling laugh out loud. Almost like thunder, just as loud, but more warm than anything like its stormy counterpart. “Careful, lad, she’s more dwarf than elf now.”
Karin added. “She’s learning all your habits already. The bad ones.”
Walking steadily on. Thoughts of supplies, the cost, and finding lodgings weighed heavily in the dwarves’ minds. Going from town to town, from settlement to settlement, was no life for a child. But for them, they had to grow used to it. Get used to the life of a nomad…or die being left behind. It wasn’t a forgiving lifestyle, not by any means. The call of home grew stronger within their bones the longer time drew on; the passage of time didn’t make it hurt any less. If anything, it made their homesickness grow and fester like an open gaping wound. Groaning, Farin glared tiredly down at the ground and marched up ahead. His ankles burned with the sudden increase of speed. He wanted to walk away, get away from all this mess. If anyone were to see the group of them with a child from another race. They would assume the worst. ‘Everyone assumes the worst of dwarves,’ the vile voice in the back of his head gnawed at him.
His stubborn pride wouldn’t allow him to vocalize his needs. “Imagine finding her folks… all worried about her… If we find them—”
“Or if they find us!” cut in Carik before Teor smacked him upside the head with one of his massive hands.
Farin could feel his temples throbbing. “Aye… or if they find us. Wouldn’t they be appalled at all the bad behavior we’re teaching her?”
As if on cue, the child still strapped to Carik’s back jerked her hands out to give a firm tug on one of his braids. “AIE! Lass, quit it.” A giggle was all he got in response. “Devilish thing you are.”
They walked for a few more miles, roughly two or nearly three altogether, before the midday sun beat down on their backs once more. Walking until they could bear the heat no further, Karin spied a small patch of shade made by a group of trees that bowed inwards together. ‘Perfect spot for a breather.’ Moving on instinct, Karin paused in his tracks. Raising a fist and calling out hoarsely, the signal for a break was made. The others followed without a word of opposition, as they felt the shade to be a welcome omen from Yavanna herself. Tired breaths and aching tones turned to sighs of satisfaction and mild laughter within seconds. Once in the coolness of the shade, Carin carefully reached back to undo the straps that secured their charge to his back. The sounds of cloth and rustling signaled her freedom as Carik let out a heavy sigh.
“There we go, you’re free now, little lass.” The girl smiled sheepishly as she gave a smaller, gentler tug on his braid before settling herself down beside him.
“Better now, I take it?” Barik joked as he moved to stand close to Karin. The way he squinted at the map concerned him.
“Shut up.” Came Carik’s reply.
Paying no heed to the dwarf she’d been treating as a glorified oxcart. She moved to lie back on the grass, arms stretched overhead and long while her toes flexed in the dirt. Yawning, her body urged her to roll to her stomach and stretch. Pushing herself onto the grassy ground with a tired grace. Her palms pressed firmly into the earth, and then slowly, carefully, she lifted her chest and arched her spine. Lifting her sternum to the sky above, her head fell back with a small hiss as her ankle protested her movement. Teor furrowed his brows and watched silently as she moved. ‘Odd thing to do.’ He mused, but to each their own. As he was never the type to judge. Catching Barik’s eyes, he shrugged before watching the child stretch more. It seems that even being carried like a babe can prove tiresome. More soft noises escaped her lips as her thin arms shivered and trembled under her weight. The thick coat that they provided for her slipped down her shoulders and pooled around her stick-thin wrists. The first thing they had agreed upon when in town would be to get her fed. If they had enough coin between them all.
Matted tresses of tangled russet hair fell forward across her face. Slivers of fiery strands gleamed like molten copper in the light. Her small frame, as underfed and sunburnt as it looked, seemed to elongate as she made herself as comfortable as a cat lounging in the sun. Karin averted his gaze from their charge to rummage through his pack for any morsels they hadn’t dug into yet. A pang of something akin to guilt flashed upon his features. ‘No child should be that tiny. By the look of it, Farin shared the sentiment. Trying to alleviate the sudden heaviness, Farin snorts a laugh. A forced one, but it makes the tension leave from his shoulders.
Wiping the sweat that beaded along the bridge of his nose, he jeered. “Fifteen miles my arse,” he muttered.
“Language,” Teor cut in, no real bite lingering in his tone as a smile widened on his bearded lips.
“Why? She can’t even understand us. Look, as unbothered as a fly.” Pointing at where the child was stretching. She had already moved to a small patch of wildflowers that grew along the base of the nearest tree. Without a care in the world, she moved with ease. Athelas plants flourished, and bluebells plentifully sprouted from the ground in small batches. The bluebells dangled in small, delicate arcs as the blooms opened downwards towards the soil. Their purplish-blue hue was a welcome reprieve from the monotony of greens, yellows, and blues. The Athelas was a wonderful sight as well, useful as a healing herb when properly prepared. Watching silently as she kneeled. They could tell her ankle still bothered her, but not as bad as the day prior. She was murmuring to herself as she ran her fingers through their velvety petals. It was a strange mix of airy tones and vowels that paraded with sudden stops. Very perplexing and mind-boggling to the dwarves.
Barik followed her small fingers with his eyes, mirth dancing in his orbs. “She hums like my sister,” he said after a while of quiet musing. “Granted, Baris couldn’t carry a tune to save her skin, but she loved singing.”
Farin chuckled under his breath. “Aye, I remember. No time for it now. She’s got children of her own, doesn’t she? And that one’s no better. We’ll all go deaf before we reach the next town.” Gesturing towards the elfling. She stuck out her tongue once more as she happened to glance back at Farin. As if sensing a jab at her own expense.
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” Barik chimed dryly. He was studying the map with Karin, turning it sideways and over as if willing the distance between landmarks to grow shorter. He could tell in the way his fingers twitched that Karin ached for the use of his pipe.
The comfortable silence stretched between them like a warm blanket. Only the buzzing of small insects and the faint chirping of birds sang overhead. The breeze rolled through the land with a cooling touch. The shade provided by the looming trees grew only darker as the sun passed its zenith. Enjoying the shade and the brief respite from days of long travel on foot. The girl had begun to pick the bluebells one by one. Mixing them with sprigs of athelas, she paused as if considering whether or not they looked good together. Gathering them all up in a medium-sized bundle in her hands, she made herself comfortable at the base of the tree and began to string them together in such a way as to make a flower crown. ‘This is harder than I remembered,’ she mused, her face scrunched up in concentration as she fumbled with some ends that were picked far too short. In-between bouts of focus and moments of quiet. She lifted her gaze to settle on the group. Scanning one by one. Just watching them. Whether to see if they were still there, to ensure that they hadn’t vanished, or to see if they were behaving, none of the dwarves could hazard a guess.
Farin’s tenor broke the spell of comfortable quiet. “Careful, she’ll eat those if we don’t watch her.”
The mention of food made everyone’s stomachs clench. One could only stomach so much pemmican and hardtack when it was available. Foraging was growing less and less reliable by the day the further up north they walked.
“By Aulë, she’s not that daft,” Barik muttered without looking up from the now sideways-held map. “She probably knows what’s good for her more than you do.”
“I wouldn’t bet a gold piece on that,” was Farin’s reply as the child looked to have finished one of the flower crowns. The first of many, by the look of it. It didn’t look that bad, for an elf’s work.
Looking up, she smiled when she met Karin’s gaze. Waving happily at him. She moved her arms in come-hither motions. Trying to get the black-haired dwarf to come closer. When he made no move to do so. She scowled. ‘I don’t want to get up,’ she whined to herself mentally. Breaking from her thoughts by loud rolling laughter. She frowned as she saw Teor shaking his head as if in exasperation. Motioning again with her hands, the urge to gift the leader of the small party the first flower crown rose in her chest.
{“Get over here”} the hissed words felt almost silly. But pride held her firm. If she wanted Karin to have a crown, then he would.
Tilting his head, Carin elbowed Farin at his side. “I think she means it’s for Karin first. See?” Gesturing over to the child, there already looked to be half-made crowns lying at her sides. Just waiting to be gifted.
Farin barked a teasing laugh. “Lovely. A crown of wilting weeds. Just what I’ve always wanted.”
“Not weeds, athelas and bluebells.” Supported Barik from his spot next to Karin. “Just as nice as old King Thror’s crown, eh?”
No one spoke after that. How could they?
The quiet atmosphere of their resting place turned cold.
The silence that was once so comfortable grew as stale as the grave and lingered just as ominously.