Too Far Gone

Chapter 14

Thorin and I proceeded in the direction of Bain's home.

Just as we had approached the crowded home in the streets of Bree, Bain stepped out.

Thorin spoke as Bain opened his mouth.

"Your assistance is no longer needed, Bain."

"Ah, I see." He said, nodding his head and placing his hand out towards Thorin. "T'was a pleasure to have you, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin nodded, but kept his hand at his side. He had truly been hurt by the betrayal of trust from this man. Thorin had trusted yet another, which had been a difficult strain in the first place, only to be let down once more. T'was a heart-hardening thing, for even water was not to trust as it turns straight sticks crooked.

Bain lowered his hand at the rejection, and bowed slightly.

I nodded upon Bain's bow before Thorin began trudging away, and out of the city once more.

~

"He then trips upon his own drunken self and flew through the air of the Prancing Pony. Finally, hitting the ground near the fire, this man looks down upon his own legs, only to see they have become ignited." Thorin recalled, looking down at the rock and laughing.

I laughed, a true laugh, t'was not pained nor fake. True as the summer, it was!

Thorin and I continued on the story-telling in the blissful, bare-skied night. Of course the moon beamed down bright, reflecting on the few puddles of rain. Stars were mainly cancelled by that of the moon's shine.

We took the night upon a conveniently flat stone, it was surrounded by large trees, as if they'd grown into the rock and shaped as the it, creating a snug feel. Bushes offered a shield from wind and covered us as best it would do. A heavily wooded area stood all around us, it covered a large portion of the sky, but not the bright moon. It shone directly upon us.

Room was a limited thing on the stone, but the warmth of the night and our own flesh and blood running through our veins offered a comfort that could not be had anywhere else.

I also started a small fire, for the comfort of light and sight in the darkness. It was dim, but worked as a charm. The flames danced as a source of entertainment and pleasure. The charcoals beneath the wood cracked and creaked aimlessly, not knowing of life beyond the flame.

The new tunic-outfit began to irritate my fair skin.

A crack in the thick creepers of the bushes ahead of us alerted me, interrupting the telling of stories and peaceful serenity of staring upon the flames on the ground directly in front of the rock.

Thorin perked up and clutched his sword upon the side of the stone.

I pulled my sword slowly off the rock, trying to remain quiet, and nearly got up when a squirrel exited a bush and ran up a nearby tree.

I exhaled and sat back, leaning against one of the trees surrounding the rock.

I held the sword in my hand, the moon bounced upon it and shone on the name 'Arvendel', illuminating it brightly directly at me.

"Arvendel." I said softly as I glared down at the name on the sword in my lap.

"T'was derived from the word 'atkâtâl' and 'atamanel' meaning-"

"Silencer, the breath of all breaths." I cut in, still staring at the sword.

"Indeed," he gazed upon the moon. "as it silences those who need to be silenced, their breaths become labored and with every breath after the penetration, a new pain will take their veins."