Something in the Night

Chapter Thirteen

They departed Mirkwood less than an hour later, and followed along the Forest River. In the distance, the Lonely Mountain rose pink and purple in the late morning sunlight and she gazed upon it, Nina couldn't help but feel a hint of urgency. They would be arriving within a day or so, and that meant she had to do what she set out to do soon.

But, as she sat astride her pony, watching Thorin astride his ahead of her, the sunlight dancing along his long black curls, glinting off the silver clip at the back of his head, she realized she no longer hated him. Perhaps she'd never hated him, but only hated what had happened. Although he had unleashed Smaug, it was never with the intent of setting him upon Esgaroth.

Instead, as she watched him, she found she wanted to know more about him. Last evening, in the low light, she'd seen the thin white scar running diagonally from his right temple toward the inside of his eyebrow and found herself wondering where he'd gotten it. The same with the various other scars she'd seen on his body—what looked like bite marks across his back and chest, and two curious wounds lower on his abdomen amongst others. She wanted to ask him about Esgaroth and the restoration of her hometown, about his childhood and what led him to his quest for Erebor.

More than anything, she wanted another night with him. She no longer cared about revenge, no longer cared about the bounty. Neither one mattered. Not only would they not give her back what had been stolen from her, but she found for the first time in a long time, she looked to the future.

Looked to the possibility of a future with Thorin.

Dwarves do not take this lightly, Nina. It's not in our makeup to leap from bed to bed, you know.

Did that mean he thought there was the possibility of a future with her as well?

The trouble was, she had to be honest with him. Absolutely honest.

And that terrified her. She had no idea how to tell him, no idea how he would take learning such a thing. It might be an unforgivable matter as far as he was concerned and she wouldn't be able to fault him if it was.

They were just beyond the easternmost border of Mirkwood, with the River Running in their sights when the first arrow split the air with a sharp whistle. Without thinking, Nina leapt from her mount and as the pony bolted, she yanked her bow and an arrow from her quiver and readied to return fire.

Both Thorin and Dwalin had their weapons at the ready when the first orcs appeared from the trees and all three turned to face them as more arrows sliced their way.

As if to remind her about the damage an arrow could do, Nina's shoulder throbbed for the first time since the wound had been inflicted upon it, and she fought to ignore it as orcs seemingly poured from the trees, swords drawn, arrows resting and ready to be fired.

"There's too many of them!" Dwalin's roar was only barely audible above the sounds as he swung his axe to cleave an orc in half.

"Retreat back into Mirkwood!" Thorin shouted back before being accosted by two orcs.

Nina raced to close the space between her and Thorin and as she neared, he hollered, "Get down!"

Without thinking, she did as he ordered, and a moment later, sticky black orc blood splattered across her face and upper body, while the head Thorin had just removed from its shoulders hit her squarely in hers.

As he moved, another orc came up behind him and Nina fit an arrow between his eyes for his trouble. Thorin grabbed her arm. "Mirkwood, now!"

Before last night, she could have just let her bow fall, grabbed her sword, and dispatched him right then and there. No one would have been any wiser. Dwalin was fifty yards ahead of them, clearing a path back to Mirkwood. Orcs wouldn't care. They would still try to cut her down regardless as they might even be seeking the bounty on Thorin's head amongst themselves.