Flames

1.3

Over the next few days, Azalea took more and more notice of the way Thorin acted around her. He still appeared to despise her, almost as if the whole thing with the trolls didn't happen. Occasionally, however, she would catch him glancing back at her. He'd play it off like he was looking at someone else, but she knew he was looking at her. He'd grown awkward and fidgety around her. He never looked directly at her unless he was sure she wasn't looking back.

One night, several people and already fallen asleep. Azalea poked the dying flames with a stick, trying to keep a steady flame going. Bilbo sat next to her.

"Do you miss Gondor?" he wondered without so much as a hello.

"Sometimes, if I'm drunk enough," she replied. They both chuckled.

"But seriously. Don't you miss your brother? Your parents? Anyone?"

Azalea thought about it.

"Sometimes, I wonder what happened to my brother," she admitted. "He wasn't very old when I left, so I never knew if he made it past childhood. And to be honest, winter in Gondor was gorgeous. But do I miss the weight of the world on my shoulders? Do I miss being treated as a prize instead of a person? Do I miss having my life planned for me? No."

"What finally made you leave?"

"My brother, to be honest. When he was born, it was as if I wasn't even their kid anymore," she admitted. "It was like I was a servant or something."

"Was it bad, at first?" Bilbo continued.

"Yes. I considered going home several times, but I would never give them that satisfaction. Instead, whenever I felt homesick, I moved on. Eventually, I didn't have a reason to move. I just did."

A welcomed moment of silence passed between the girl and the Hobbit. Bilbo eventually lay down and went to sleep. Azalea stared into the dying flames, remembering her homeland. She closed her eyes and let a single tear roll down her cheek.

"Remembering times gone by can hurt," a voice said somewhere to the right of her. "But it is necessary to look back sometimes to see how far we've come."

"Yes," she agreed. "Yes it is."

-------------------

"Rivendell."

Azalea stared at the Elven town she had stayed in once. It was just as beautiful as she remembered.

"Why must we seek counsel from Elves?" Thorin muttered. 

"Elrond is the only person who can read that map," Gandalf replied.

Azalea zoned out. She remembered the last time she'd stayed in this city. A sudden wave of anxiety washed over her. She kept her face expressionless, refusing to let her feelings show.

"Are you okay?" Kili asked. Azalea's hands began shaking at her sides. She clenched them into fists to stop them.

"I'm fine," she lied, her voice shaking slightly.

They stood in the center of the town for a moment. Then, horses surrounded them. Each sound roared in Azalea's ears. She couldn't focus on anything. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her senses overloaded, and she didn't remember what happened next.

--------------------

Next thing Azalea knew, she was in a room somewhere, pacing. Being alone in a quiet room calmed her down. For a moment, she forgot where she was.

Then she remembered, and the anxiety returned.

She heard an extremely concerned voice outside the door.

"Is she going to be alright?"

"Yes, she will. Give her a little while, and I'm sure she will be," a more patient voice answered.

"May I see her?"

"No. It is best for her to be alone at the moment."

Azalea sat on a bed, her knee bouncing frantically. There was a glass of water sitting on a small table. She resisted the urge to send it flying across the room. She still remembered what the Elvish poison felt like, the burning, the pain, the wish for it all to end. They were insane to think she'd even touch anything handed to her.

The door to the room opened. Azalea looked up from the ground to a timid, dark-haired elf.

"Ma'am, you have a visitor," he informed her.

"Who is it?" she asked calmly.

"Says his name is Oakenshield."

Curious, Azalea replied, "Let him in, I suppose."

The elf left the door frame and was replaced by the dwarf.

"Are you alright?" he asked gruffly.

"Yes, I think I will be as soon as we leave this place," she answered. "I have bad memories tied here."

"Such as?"

Azalea smiled at the ground. "Maybe I'll tell you once you actually start being nice to me."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Wow," Azalea agreed. "You're right. I didn't realize you cared so much."

"I don't," he replied, leaning against the door frame.

"Then why are you here?"

He didn't look at her for a few minutes.

"We're about to have the map read," he said finally. "As soon as we know where we're going, we're leaving."

Azalea nodded, thinking that was the best plan. She stared at her hand, her fingers rapping against the edge of the bed she sat on.

"They said they'd bring you food," Thorin announced. "Also, um...I-I'd like for you to be there when the map is read."

"Alright."

Thorin left, closing the door behind him. Azalea found herself smiling for a reason unknown even to herself. He was worried about me, she thought.

What's wrong with me? He's a dwarf. I'm a human. It would never work.

When an elf entered with food she wouldn't touch, she caught herself wondering Would it?