934Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! As soon as Fanfiction gets their review/reply bug fixed, I will be responding. (And a special thanks to LVOWL for helping me get over my anxiety over uploading this story!)
Thought I'd go ahead and give you guys another chapter to kick this thing off. 8D
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or its characters!
The Loudest Silence
Chapter Two
"It seems you were right. It really is a girl!"
"I thought you were just seeing things."
"Men kemgu gajum menu."
"Now don't act like it hasn't happened before."
"Bundul menu denapdul…"
Who was talking while I was trying to sleep?
"You've got a bit of blood there."
"It's not my blood…? Look at her arm! Give me something to stop the bleedin'!"
I could feel my arm being moved, my baggy sleeve being rolled up. There was suddenly pressure, but also searing pain. I couldn't help but flinch, despite my half-asleep state. I attempted to crack my eyes open to get a look at whoever was talking and messing with my wound, but nothing was coming into focus. There were three vague shapes standing around me, lit by the glow of a small fire somewhere nearby. The sky behind them was still dark.
"Easy, lass. You're safe now."
I struggled to keep conscious, but I was so tired. That voice sounded so familiar…? Friendly, even…? A memory somewhere stirred. My eyes flickered shut again.
When next I came to, it was daylight. I could hear the river not too far away, burbling in its mocking tone as I opened my eyes. The trees above me rustled lightly in the breeze and I realized that I was no longer laying on the massive rock, or anywhere in the water for that matter. I was on my back – minus a backpack – on grassy land. How on earth…?
Panic suddenly rose in my muddled head at the thought of Jean and Gavin being the ones to find me. But no, I assured myself. They likely wouldn't bother with pulling me from the river, and besides that, it definitely wasn't them who spoke earlier. Who did those voices belong to then?
I turned my head, noting my soggy backpack and sneakers a few feet from me. Beside them, a campfire with some grilling utensils – the heat of which I could slightly feel – and a few feet from my waterlogged items were three short, bearded men sitting on the opposite side of the fire. There were various bags and things strewn about, beside the trees, and one such tree had my black hoodie hanging over a branch to dry. The smell of food wafted over and I realized how hungry I was as I took in the scene.
One of the men was very rotund with bright ginger hair, and probably weighed the same as three of me (and I mean, I wasn't exactly a twig over here). Another had an odd looking hat with large wing-like flaps, a scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck, and dark hair in two braids at his shoulders. The familiarity of it finally hit me like a cinderblock upon seeing the third person, who had a wild mane of black and white hair, but more importantly – a broken axe sticking out of his forehead.
I sat up quicker than I should have, wincing when my arm throbbed with the effort of pushing to an upright position. A blanket that I didn't realize had been draped over me slid off my torso, revealing my bland, maroon t-shirt. The cut hurt like a mofo, and my head spun for a second, but I was more concerned with who exactly I was staring at.
Not short men. No.
They were Dwarves.
More specifically, Dwarves that were supposed to be fictional.
I think my eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I sat there staring.
It only took them a moment to realize I had come to, though. When they did, I was instantly greeted by the one with the winged hat – who I already knew was Bofur. Who I shouldn't have known was Bofur. Because he wasn't supposed to be real and I wasn't supposed to deal with this kind of thing.
My reality tumbled like a Jenga tower. Holy – ! That woman had actually dropped me in Middle Earth!
"Ah, you're awake! We were starting to worry!" he said in his kind, heavily accented tone. He set down his plate of – bacon? – and stood, dusting his hands off on his pants legs.
They must have mistaken my stillness and ogling for fear, because his movements slowed when I didn't react right away. He picked up a small plate that had been set to the side and cautiously made his way over to where I was sitting, putting his other hand out palm forward like one does with a wild animal. The other two stayed where they were, though they watched with interest.
"We don't mean ye any harm, lass," he assured me. "You were in quite the state when we found you. Right over there, in the river - " he tilted his head in the direction "- half drowned, arm bleeding like no tomorrow."
My brain may as well have been a chalupa for all the good it was doing me. The mention of my arm made me look numbly down at my t-shirt sleeve, slightly wadded up to accommodate their temporary fix. The wound was tightly wrapped in cloth, so I couldn't really see the extent of the damage, though I assumed it was somewhat bad considering the pain level. That, or I was just a wimp. Probably the latter.
Bofur had shuffled to where I was and kneeled down carefully, offering me the plate of food. "I don't doubt you're hungry after all that, whatever it may have been," he said, his familiar, mustached face an oddly good sight.
I stared at the proffered plate for a whole ten seconds before realizing I should probably grab it. When I did so, and opened my mouth to say thank you however, I abruptly remembered my voice dilemma, and just gave him a grateful smile instead, setting the plate on my lap.
"There's more where that came from, if you'll be needing it," spoke one of the other two from beside the fire, a bit quietly. I looked up to see Bombur, with his massive circular, braided beard and round nose. He made a timid gesture towards a large pan set up over the flames with yet more food cooking.
"Madaffatul khurm," suddenly came from the opposite side of the fire, accompanied by sudden hand motions. With the axe in his head and the two-toned hairdo, Bifur was very easy to recognize.
"Oh, you hush up," Bofur called back to the other. "You eat just as much as he does."
This is so bizarre, I thought as the dwarf sat on the ground a few feet from me. Where is the Twilight Zone music? They were obviously the only three present, so the Company of Thorin Oakenshield couldn't have formed yet, otherwise there would be ten other Dwarves running around. (Not to mention a Hobbit and a Wizard.) So what part of the timeline did I fall into? Had they even been invited to go on that insane quest yet? Or was it still a long ways off? Better still, why was I not questioning my sanity at the acceptance of this whole scenario?
"Sorry 'bout that," Bofur said, returning his attention to me, interrupting my jumbled thoughts. "We haven't even introduced ourselves. I'm Bofur, that there's my brother Bombur, and that would be our cousin, Bifur. Looks a bit feral, but he's completely harmless, I swear."
Even though I already knew their names, the politeness was appreciated. I smiled again, my brain finally kicking into proper gear, and nodded this time to make sure he could tell I understood.
"What should we be callin' you, lass?" he questioned lightheartedly.
Oh great. Something that actually required talking. I bit my lip and stared at the ground, thinking of how to explain my situation. All I got was a tilt of the head from him when I tried to mouth the words. I knew I had never been very good at articulation, so that wasn't really his fault… I finally decided, meeting his eyes and putting two fingers on my throat. I opened my mouth and motioned outward while spreading my hand, mimicking sound, and then shook my head 'no.'
For a second Bofur's eyebrows furrowed, and then suddenly shot up. "Oh! Ye can't speak? Is that what you're tellin' me?"
'Yes', I nodded quickly.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, lass," he said, then his mustache followed his mouth in a wry smile. "Or rather, not hear that."
I couldn't help the deadpan look I gave at the poor joke, which only caused him to let out a laugh. I suddenly thought of an idea to tell them my name though, and reached for my backpack, hoping that the 'common tongue' actually was common. I mean, I recalled in the movies when Bilbo put up his sign to ward off visitors, it was totally readable and I only knew one language. This was the best solution I had to work with.
They watched, intrigued, as I unzipped the moist, blue and purple bag. They likely had never seen anything like it before, so I couldn't really blame them for staring as I pulled out my soaked Batman wallet, grabbing my Driver's License. I held the card up, pointing to the name portion.
He squinted in complete bafflement, more curious about the piece of thin plastic than the actual words. "How in the world did you make a painting that thin and smooth? The writin' is so tiny and neat! And is that you? You had so much hair, what happened to it all?!"
I tapped the words with my finger, knowing these questions would likely go on forever, and there was no easy explanation I could give them without my voice.
Eventually he stopped staring at the License itself, and noticed the words. "Marie Jenna Hollander?"
I wobbled my free hand in a 'sort of' motion having forgotten that middle names came first on those stupid things, then covered all but my first name.
"Jenna? Your name is Jenna?" he confirmed, and I nodded again. "Family name is Hollander, I suppose?"
'Yes.' Another nod – I assumed there would be a lot of that from this point on. I put my Driver's License away, closing up my backpack. I didn't even want to know what kind of water damage my belongings sustained.
"That's quite a strange name, but then again, you're quite a strange lass," Bofur said, holding out his hand. I nervously shook it. "Pleasure to meet ya, Miss Hollander."
His fingerless knitted gloves were fuzzy and soft compared to his actual hand, which had a good number of calluses that brushed my skin. It only cemented the fact that these Dwarves were real, live, breathing people, and unsettled me deeply.
When we separated, he pointed to the plate of bacon still on my lap. "You'd best be eatin' that before it gets cold."
I gave another thankful smile, pushing my previous thoughts away with some effort, and happily dug in as Bofur returned to his spot and his own plate. Bacon had always been too greasy for my taste, but after the night I had, I would gladly eat a whole mountain of bacon if it was my only option. Beggars can't be choosers and all that jazz. The dwarves were being so friendly and they didn't even know me, where I came from, or anything. They just dredged me out of a river, wrapped up my wound, and gave me breakfast. Like, how lucky could you be? Why the hell couldn't these guys have been the first people I ran into?
Once I had devoured (more like inhaled) the bacon and handed my empty dish over, I realized I was incredibly parched. Especially for someone who had just swallowed half the river the night before. My bag of "useless" things came in handy again when I pulled out my flip-top water bottle, earning more stares.
"I'm willin' to bet you're not from around here, are you?" Bofur asked, eying the clear blue plastic container. When I shook my head, he added, "No home close by that we can take ya to?"
Understatement of the century, I thought, shaking my head again.
He set his now empty plate in a small pile with the others', passing them over to Bifur with a quick, "Go rinse these off, would ya?" then began gathering their other gear up. Bifur gave an odd grunt in reply, heading off towards the river.
A little while passed as Bofur rolled up their blankets and he started chatting amiably. "I can't say I've ever seen a woman of Men quite like yourself. Most a the ones with hair that short had to chop it off from mites… Not sayin' you have mites or nothin', don't take offense! Just strange for us Dwarves, seein' as how we hold our hair in such high esteem. Poor Bombur here had to fight off the Dwarrowdams left an' right when his beard came in."
Bifur returned soon after that, handing the cooking gear off to Bombur, who – upon hearing our one-sided conversation – turned a bit red. The round Dwarf secured the larger pans to his pack, and I realized they were just about done tearing down camp.
Attempting to be useful, I shifted onto my knees and tried to roll up the blanket that had been lying on me. This turned out to be a shitty plan, because as soon as I stretched out my left arm, the fabric on my wound stuck to what I guessed was dried blood, pulling the skin painfully. I sucked in air through gritted teeth, hunching my shoulders against the sudden discomfort.
"'Ey now, don't you be worryin' about that," Bofur interceded, stooping to roll the blanket himself. "Don't need you to start bleedin' all over again."
I pursed my lips, sitting back in my previous spot.
He stood and put the rolled-up blanket with their other belongings, then turned back to me, saying, "Speakin' of which, we need to have a proper look at that now that we've got the light."
Bombur and Bifur shuffled over as well, while Bofur knelt next to me and I offered up my arm. I knew this was going to hurt more than it already was, but hey, at least I still had the limb.
The hatted Dwarf carefully undid the tight knot, pulling away the fabric. Once at the final layer, which had darkened with dried blood, I balled up my fists when it was slowly peeled off. Ew. Bombur was the one this time who took the cloth and headed towards the water, coming back moments later to hand his brother the damp rag. I grimaced at the crusted blood on my arm and at the large gash in my skin. It was maybe three inches across, but thankfully not deep enough to cause permanent damage, regardless of how much blood was trying to well up again already.
It was also located right below my tattoo, I remembered belatedly.
Bofur was already pushing my sleeve up for a better angle to clean the wound though, when he paused, noticing my ink.
…
"Well that's certainly curious."
AN: From this point on, the chapters will be more spread out. I just wanted to tease you guys a little~
Let me know your opinions, criticisms, concerns, anything! Feedback is feedback. :)