More Than Meets the Eye

Chapter Four

Someone pounded on the door. With all of their might, it seemed, and a sharp voice barked, "Half-five! Time to rise!"

Half-five? Arielle sat up with a start and squinted into the darkness. The fire had burned itself out. Her chambers were freezing cold and black as pitch. Some stranger just jolted her awake in the middle of the night.

She was going to kill Elen when she went home.

She flopped back into her thin pillow, her eyes stinging with the need to close, but she knew if she gave in, she'd fall into a sound sleep and both Thorin and his sister would be furious. So, she rubbed first one eye, then the other, for all the good it did.

What a horrid night. The room was too quiet. Elen talked in his sleep most nights and while they didn't share a room, he was often loud enough that she could hear and answer him, which she did on occasion. But this was the first time she'd slept away from him since they were young children. Which meant she couldn't sleep. It was too dark to see the clock, but she was fairly certain she'd gotten no more than an hour, possibly two, of sleep.

With a grunt, she sat up again and swung her legs over the side of the bed, then forced herself to stand. As soon as her feet touched the floor, she yelped. It was ice-cold and her feet were bare. Thank Mahal for the two quilts that had been folded along the foot of her bed, otherwise she'd have frozen in her sleep, no doubt.

She fumbled on the bedside table for the steel and flint she knew she'd seen the night before. Thankfully, they were in the small, shallow stone dish alongside the candlestick. A quick strike of steel against flint and the candle was lit. It wasn't much, but it was a vast improvement over the suffocating darkness. How did dwarves not feel buried alive in Erebor? As soon as she'd blown out the candle the night before, the darkness gained weight to press in on her from all sides. She could almost touch it, it was so thick. For a mad moment, she considered leaving the candle lit, but common sense won out in the end. It simply wouldn't do to burn down her employer's home and kingdom on her first night. Not that it would do any other night, either, actually...

Her feet finally adjusted to the cold floor as she padded over to her satchel. Hopefully, she'd be allowed to venture back to Dale in a few days, to launder her clothes and pick up a few more things she might need. Elen would have arranged to have all of his things brought to Erebor, but since she couldn't possibly explain some of the very feminine things she would have to bring, she'd have to sneak them in instead.

She whisked her chemise over her head and reached for the roll of bandage. Fortunately, her breasts were almost comically small, so she could easily flatten them with a single roll. As she smoothed the linen across her chest, for the first time in her adult life, she was grateful to be so flat-chested. Who knew the very thing boys often teased her about would be the one thing that made helping Elen out of his jam possible?

That finished, she tugged on a pair of dark gray leggings and a loose blue tunic, and then she dug out her comb and went to work attacking her hair. No easy feat, as it was thick and coarse and curly and if she wasn't careful, it would go from curl to frizz in the blink of an eye. They couldn't have inherited the sleek, blond or red hair of the Woodland elves. No, instead she and Elen had dark hair that resembled a shrubbery if not properly combed. Wonderful. Normally, she would prune her shrub into a knot at the nape of her neck, but since she'd yet to see any man dong the same, she left her hair to the elements and to the power of its own will and could only hope it wouldn't turn on her too badly.

She tugged on her soft boots and left her chambers. She still had no key, so she had leave the door unlocked and could only hope no one would enter when she wasn't about.