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hardcore-evil-regal · 4 years

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Tradition

Summary:

For the prompt 'tradition'. Aang seeks out Toph's father to fulfil an old Earth Kingdom tradition.

Author’s Note:

I can't believe it's been two years since I last posted something!! Fortunately, my muse has returned in time for Taang week and I am excited to have joined the ATLA fandom. This fic is for the first prompt for Taang week and will be part of a series of fics for this event.

In this fic, Aang and Toph are both young adults (like 20's?) and are already in an established relationship.

Enjoy, y'all ^_^

You can either read the fic here or on AO3 or FF.net

"Are you sure you have to leave?" She asks snuggling in closer to his side, seeking more of the glorious heat his body emits. The perks of being a fire bender she thinks. He chuckles at her whining tone and she can feel the vibrations rumble through his chest with her cheek pressed against his firm pectoral.

"It'll only be for a few days," he promises running soothing fingers through the long dark strands of her hair.

She grumbles something unintelligible into his chest, still clearly unhappy with him going away.

"I'll make it up to you when I get back," he whispers in her ear, tracing swirling patterns across the bare skin of her back exposed by the blanket.

He can practically feel her smirking at his words despite the fact that her face is buried in his chest.

"Are you offering what I think you're offering?" She asks, still firmly refusing to budge from her position, her lips brushing against his skin as she speaks.

He traces a finger lightly along the slender curve of her neck and then along the delicate line of her collar bone.

"I guess that depe-" he is suddenly interrupted when she wraps a leg tightly around his own, thrusting her hips and chest up and against his body, rolling them so she can pin his body beneath her own. "Toph!" He cries out and she can't help the laugh that bubbles up and out of her lips at the surprise in his voice.

"What's the matter Twinkletoes?" She teases, her face hovering just centimetres above his own, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders to frame her face, the ends of her hair tickling him where it brushes against his skin.

"I can't believe I'm in love with you," he mutters whilst she lets out an evil little cackle of laughter.

"Don't lie, you love it!"

A smile pulls unbidden at his lips as he thinks about the fact that he does love her, he loves everything about her. The sunlight streaming through the half open curtains lights up her misty eyes and he can't help himself from thinking how perfect she is to him.

"You've got that mushy expression on your face again," she says breaking the silence.

He's stunned for a moment, unsure of how she is able to tell what his face looks like.

"I can feel it in your heartbeat," she whispers softly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.

__________________________

Her words echo in his mind long after he has left and begun his journey. When he lands Appa and begins the short walk into town, he repeats her words to himself, almost like a mantra to bolster his strength as he considers just turning around and hightailing it back to Toph in Republic City. It feels as if he has swallowed a badgerfrog and his heart is pounding in his throat as he is escorted through ornately decorated hallways. He is ashamed to admit that a part of him almost wishes to face the Fire Lord again rather than face the fiercely stern looking man before him.

"What is your business here Avatar?" The man asks, running a hand over his bearded chin.

"I have come to speak with you, about a private matter," the Avatar states.

"And what makes you think you have any right to just waltz into my home after what you did?" The man asks, raising a questioning brow.

"I uh-" the young Avatar swallows, repeating the mantra in his head. "I apologise for how I acted in the past, but my past discrepancies are not my reason for visiting. As we both know, those conflicts have long been resolved."

The older man squints as the Avatar flushes pink before his next words.

"I come to seek your blessing Lord Beifong, as I ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

His words seem to hang in the air as a heavy silence falls over them. It is almost a full two minutes before Lao Beifong speaks, breaking the suffocating silence.

"So after stealing my daughter away, you come to me now , seeking my permission so that you might have my daughter's hand in marriage?"

"Uh…" Aang scratches the back of his head nervously as he searches for a response. "It's not like I really stole Toph away or anything, I offered her to come with us and she chose to come along but I guess I needed her too but it was always her choice and I would never want to steal her but I…" the words rush out of him and he flushes red at his nervousness making the words spill out if him without filter.

The other man frowns at him and Aang wonders why on earth he thought it would be a good idea to visit Toph's father.

"Why should I let you marry my daughter?" Lao asks in a carefully neutral tone.

"Well, because I love her," Aang answers as if it is the most obvious reason in the world. "She makes me so happy and I think I make her happy too, and I want to spend the rest of my life together with her, making each other happy." He pauses for a moment to look seriously at his beloved's father. "I love Toph more than anything in this world and there isn't anything that I wouldn't do for her. She has my heart and I her's, and I ask only for your blessing because I know she would be loath to admit it aloud, but you are her father and she loves you, so it would mean a lot if you were to bless our marriage."

It was an old tradition followed in the Earth Kingdom and he knows that despite Toph's previous penchant for breaking rules, she was raised on the traditions of her culture. Regardless of how she might claim to not care about such traditions, he knows that having her father's blessing would mean a lot to her, and perhaps even go some ways toward mending the bridges between the two of them. Aang looks nervously at Toph's father, wondering how the other man will respond.

"You say you love her Avatar," he starts as Aang nods his head, "but if I said that it was in my daughter's best interests never to see you again. Would you walk away?"

Aang pauses for a moment, taken aback by the question.

"How could you ask such a thing?" He looks at the man with hurt clear in his eyes. "I love Toph but I-I couldn't never just leave her, walk out on her like that! It would break my heart and I think it would break hers too! I would never do that or anything that would hurt her!"

The room is quiet for several moments as the older man sits there thinking over the Avatar's words whilst his intense brown eyes scrutinise the young man looking for any impure intentions. Seemingly assured by what he finds, the older man nods to himself before returning his heavy gaze to the young Avatar.

"Listen to me carefully young Avatar, my daughter means the world to me and to allow any man to marry her would be the highest privilege I could bestow upon him. With the Beifong name and a reputation that precedes her, my daughter is hardly short of suitors,” he pauses for a moment, taking in the Avatar’s attire in his bright orange robes.

“However, it seems that somehow you, a monk with no real means of income or wealth, nothing other than your status as the Avatar, have managed to win my daughter's affections where others have failed. I cannot say that I understand it, nor that I am completely overjoyed by it, but if it is true that my daughter does love you; then I grant you my blessing."

Aang stands there for a moment, caught in an expression of surprise as he takes several moments to process all that's been said and chooses to ignore the slight against his person. A slow grin breaks upon his features when he realises he has been granted the blessing of his potential future father in-law.

_______________________________

Removing the face splitting grin from his features, proves an almost impossible task as he tries to school his features into a more subdued smile. He can hear the familiar sounds of his earthbender puttering about their home as he crosses the threshold.

"Toph?" He calls out, alerting her to his presence.

"Twinkle toes!" He hears from one of the rooms further into the house, followed by the sound of footsteps running towards him.

He is suddenly hit with the full force of a Toph sized cannonball as she launches herself at him and into his arms. Stumbling back a step from her momentum, he uses his air bending to keep them upright as he wraps his arms around her, holding her against his chest with her arms and legs wrapped firmly about his torso. He can feel the steady thumping of her heart from where her chest is pressed tightly against his, and when he closes his eyes he can almost feel the way his own heart beats in tandem with hers.

“How was your trip?” she asks as he returns her to her feet.

“It went well,” he smiles nervously feeling butterflies in his stomach, “really well.”

She cocks her head to the side with just the slightest narrowing of her eyes.

“What are you not telling me?” she asks with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Unconscious of the habit, Aang lifts a hand to rub nervously at his bald head as he lets out a deep breath trying to calm his heart beat.

“Well..” he starts, hoping to the spirits that she will let him finish what he has to say before bending him into the ground. “The diplomatic mission was really more of a personal one. I went to see your father.”

Her brow furrows deeply upon mention of her father and he is grateful that she hasn’t said anything yet.

“It’s not what you think,” he continues, “I went to see him about a personal matter. Something, or rather someone, who’s very important to me.”

He can almost see the way the pieces are falling into place for her as her lips form an ‘O’ shape with the dawning of her realisation. Her heartbeat stutters for a moment when she senses him shifting, moving from his position standing in front of her to a bended knee, hand grasping hers.

“Toph Beifong,” he says softly, feeling the almost imperceptible shaking of her usually steady hands, “I ask with the blessing of your father, will you marry me?”

Her strong fingers squeeze tightly around his own as she tugs him back to his feet.

“Yes,” she tells him as a grin begins to spread across her lips. “Yes Aang, I think I will.”

She smiles as he presses a kiss to her lips, his hands clinging to her small frame as he holds her tightly against him. Just as quickly however, he reels back from her as if stung.

“I forgot!” he exclaims slapping a hand over his forehead as the other rummages through his robes to pull out a small box.

Snapping the box open, he takes the small, delicately carved jade band and slips it on her finger, pressing a kiss to it as she laughs at her adorably lovesick fool.

“I can’t believe you asked my dad for permission,” she tells him as she pulls him back towards her for a kiss.

“I can’t believe she said yes,” he admits as they part for breath before he takes her lips with his once again.

“I can’t believe he said yes either,” she whispers back against his lips, acutely aware of the way Aang’s hands are pressing her tighter against him.

“Can we please not talk about your dad right now?” He asks with a soft groan, pulling back from her just enough so their lips barely brush.

She huffs out a laugh before pressing a sweet little kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Whatever you want, future husband.”

He grins wide at the endearment before wrapping his large hands around her waist and slinging her over his shoulder.

“I like the sound of that,” he tells her as he walks towards their bedroom, her hands slapping lightly at his lower back in protest of being manhandled despite the laughter spilling from her lips, “husband has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it my future wife?”

Notes:

So that's it folks!! My long awaited return to the realm of fanfiction. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. Also please be kind to me since this is my first time in five years writing a fic that isn't for Agents of Shield. I've never written Aang or Toph before so please excuse me if they seem a lil OOC :P

#taang week #taang week 2020 #toph beifong #aang #toph x aang #taang #fanfiction #these two are just so adorable

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mrs-captain-evans · 5 years

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For the Love of Dogs - Chris Evans x You

Summary: You’re spending time at your local dog park with your rescue dog when you run into a certain Captain

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 1946

Warnings: None, fluffy, slight language

A/N: Beta by @whiskey-cokenfanfic, thank you! 😘

@mycapt-ohcapt sent me a prompt of my doggy meeting Dodger a little while ago when I was hitting the wall with ideas. Inspiration hit me, so I changed it up slightly, and wrote this for you to celebrate your day today. Happy birthday darling! ❤️😘

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It was yours and Frankie’s first trip to your local dog park. It had always been a dream of yours to have a dog of you own, so when you visited a pet event show and clapped your eyes on the beautiful brindle Greyhound, your dream came true. You had spent a lot of time over the last few months researching the breed and speaking with experts, so you knew a Greyhound would fit perfectly into your busy life. As soon as you looked into Frankie’s chocolate brown eyes, you instantly fell in love and quickly signed the adoption papers before he was snapped up by someone else. That was 4 days ago.

Walking through the gate on a beautiful Spring morning, you made sure it was securely closed before removing Frankie’s leash. You had the park to yourselves, so you enjoyed a leisurely game of fetch with the tennis ball you brought with you. After a while, Frankie decided he was more interested in sniffing out all the plants and bushes which lined the paths around the large park. Taking this opportunity, you sat down on a bench nearby, pulled out your phone, and caught up with the world.

Preoccupied by the group chat with your girls, you didn’t hear the gate open as another eager hound entered the park with his owner. Just as you started to type out a response to one of your friends dating disasters, a brown and white dog jumped up into your lap, placing his paws on your thighs as he excitedly pushed his wet nose into your face, licking you with a wagging tail.

“DODGER!!”

The loud voice, of what you assumed was your new furry friends owner, echoed through the park. Looking up, you could see a dark haired, bearded, tall man, stride quickly towards you scolding at his dog, “Dodger! C’mon boy, get down!”

Giggling at the affection, you awkwardly secured your cell in your pocket and moved a hand towards his nose so he could give you a good sniff.

“Hello mister, well aren’t you an adorable boy.”

Now that both your hands were free, you ran your fingers through the soft, long fur of Dodgers neck, tickling him behind his ears.

“Awww yes you are! Who's a good boy, huh? Who’s a good boy?!” Your usually soft, quiet voice increased in pitch as you cooed over the pooch, showering him with love.

The man soon approached you and interrupted your petting with a deep chuckle. His arms were crossed, a broad smile on his face, “Shall I leave you guys to it, or..?” The amused, teasing tone in his voice didn’t go amiss.

Feeling embarrassed, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and apologised to the man with a small smile.

Dodger was still in your lap, so his owner grabbed his collar and pulled him off you. That’s when you realised your light wash denim jeans now sported mud shaped paw prints, and your pale pink cami was covered in dark patches, thanks to the slobber caused by the ginger hound.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” The attractive man turned towards his dog, giving him the side eye, ”he’s normally got much better manners than this!”

Shrugging your shoulders, you waved off his apology. “It’s fine, honestly.”

Not quite forgiving Dodger just yet, he glanced back at your ruined clothes, and proceeded to tell the poor mutt off.

While the handsome man was giving his dog a lecture on how to be polite, you looked him over. His dark hair was soft and fluffy, easily styled with a natural look. His eyes were covered by a dark pair of sunglasses, and a neatly trimmed beard covered the bottom half of his face, while his pink, plump lips looked juicy enough to bite. He was wearing a dark pair of jeans, coupled with an unzipped navy blue bomber jacket, meaning you had a perfect view of the white cotton tee he was wearing underneath, which did little to cover his impressive chest. You could see a dark shadow over his clavicle area, and wondered if he was hiding some ink. Before you could ogle some more, Frankie wandered over to see what all the commotion was.

“And who is this curious fella?”

Looking down at your brindle beauty, you replied, “This is Frankie. He’s only been with me for a few days, but he just fitted right in, haven’t ya bud?”

“Well it’s lovely to meet you both, I’m Chris, and as you probably figured with my not so manly screaming, this dumbo is Dodger,” he showed Frankie his right fist in greeting, while petting his head with his left hand.

Chuckling at his humour, you also introduced yourself, as your two fur babies sniffed at each others butts, getting themselves acquainted with one another. Suddenly, Dodger gave a quick bark before he threw his front legs down flat against the ground with his butt up high in the air. His tail was wagging rapidly in excitement and he pounced towards Frankie wanting to play. You and Chris laughed as you watched them run off across the park.

Taking a seat on the bench, Chris turned towards you, “So you recently adopted Frankie?”

“Yes, he’s my gentle giant. I’ve always wanted my own Greyhound, especially an ex racer. They’re such laid back dogs, and a professional couch potatoes!” Sharing a laugh, you continued. “Growing up, we always had a dog in the family home but when I flew the nest, and rented my own apartment, pets weren’t allowed in the building. For the last few years I’ve been saving up for a deposit and eventually, with a little help from my grandpa, I managed to afford my own house.”

You glanced Chris’s way, “It’s been a long wait, but I could finally have the Greyhound I’d always wished for. He fits into my lifestyle perfectly.”

Chris sent you a genuine smile, “Well I’m glad he found you. Too many dogs are left waiting for homes, and I’m happy he found a perfect one with you.”

Heat filled your cheeks with a rosy pink blush, instantly feeling shy, “Thank you.” Turning in your seat towards him slightly, you asked, “What about Dodger? Was he a rescue?”

“Yeah, he’s been with me a few years now. I met him while I was working in an animal shelter. As soon as I saw him, I knew he didn’t belong there . I mean look at him, he’s just so full of life.” He gazed out across the dog park, a tender look on his face.

A comfortable silence filled the air, you followed his eyes and beamed as your fur babies made friends, sniffing at all the blossoming flowers. All of a sudden, Frankie leaped forward into a full gallop, sprinting off around the park. Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Dodger quickly gave chase trying to outrun him, but failed. Frankie’s long legs, flexible spine and muscular build was no match for the energetic pup, but it was certainly amusing watching the two of them.

Chris thought so too. His hysterical laughter filled your ears as he got very animated, leaning back and slapping a hand across his chest. Tears brimmed his eyes, so he pulled off his sunglasses to wipe his eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat when you realised who he was.

It was only yesterday you watched Marvel's latest blockbuster, Endgame, and now you were sat on a bench, in a random dog park in Massachusetts, with one of the biggest and most talked about stars of the moment. Your girls would not believe this.

Trying to keep your composure, you asked if he was okay while you tried to not freak out.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just so good to see Dodge happy and making friends.” Chris watched on with a fond smile, like a proud father, a tinge of regret in his voice.

Finding the courage to speak up, you sassed, “Does he not have many friends then?”

“Oh haha, very funny. He has plenty of friends thank you very much!”, he playfully pointed a finger towards you, while shaking his head.

Wrinkling your nose, you sarcastically said, “Sure..”

Chris jokingly rolled his eyes as he ran his left hand through his hair. “We’ve been across the Country for most of the year so he hasn’t really had chance to get to know the locals, ya know?” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he continued, “Sometimes my work is pretty full on and I don’t spend long enough in one place for him to enjoy the doggy life with a playmate. It’s gotta be hard on him, makes me feel guilty, y’know?”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to explain yourself to me...Captain.”

Chris quickly looked up at you with wide eyes, a shocked expression etched across his face. You snickered at him, overjoyed at your quip.

“So, I guess the cats outta the bag then?” he silently chuckled.

Nodding your head, you confirmed his suspicions with a wink, “Uh huh. Nice disguise though.”

He snorted a small thanks before the dogs made their way back over towards you both on the bench. They were both exhausted from their run with their tongues hanging out of the side of their mouths, panting excessively.

“Well it looks like he’s found a fellow sidekick now.” You noted while giggling at the sight of the two of them.

Chris joined in with your laughter, before he made a suggestion, “I’ve got the rest of the summer off, so we’ll be spending a lot more time in this park. Maybe you and Frankie would like to join us sometime? Y’know, so they can bond.”

Stunned at his proposition you were speechless, staring at him with your mouth open, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“So, what do you say?”

Still in a daze, you tried to utter out a confident response, “Oh, um, ye-yeah.”

Chris looked delighted, happy you agreed to his proposal. He turned towards you with a sheepish smile, “Look, I am really sorry about ruining your clothes. Please let me cover the dry cleaning costs, it’s the least I can do.”

Waving a dismissive hand his way, you replied, “Please, it’s not a problem. These things happen. It’s nothing a quick wash at home won’t fix.”

Not accepting your forgiveness that easily, Chris pressed on, “At least let me buy you a coffee?”

You looked down at your watch noticing the time, “Oh thank you for the offer, but I’m not sure. It’s getting late and I haven’t had lunch yet.”

Seeing the hesitation in your eyes, he persevered, “Go on, you know you want to, I’ll even buy you a cookie.” He nudged your side with his elbow playfully, “Plus these dogs need a drink, just look at them!”

Not playing fair, he jested, “Surely you don’t want to upset Frankie by leaving when he and Dodge have just become best friends!”

“Best friends? Really?!” You stifled a laugh and looked between the two dogs. They sure did look happy. “Wow, you’re persistent aren’t you?!” His smug smile answered your question.

Just as you were mulling over his coffee invitation, that bastard had to pull out the big guns didn’t he? He raised his right eyebrow, giving you the puppy dog eyes.

Feeling defeated, you sighed waving a hand towards him, “God, how can I say no to that face!”

Chris’s boisterous howl echoed through the park, as he stood up, holding a hand out towards you, “C’mon, let's go grab that coffee.”

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Thank you all for reading! Please reblog and comment, it’s very important to all writers on here. Please send me a message if you would like to added/removed to the tag list.

Tag List: @mycapt-ohcapt @princess-evans-addict @gigglegirl77 @coffeebooksandfandom @the-sunshine-in-the-dark @loricameback @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whiskey-cokenfanfic @winters-buck @anavengerstale @jbug491 @thinkxlovexloud @patzammit

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janeykath318 · 7 years

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Locked Up: Kirk x Uhura

#my fics #Kirk x Uhura #jim is an engineer #Uhura is captain

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ingridgovaninsights · 7 years

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The Charlotte Chapters: Part 8

I stayed in touch with Elliott, but he had moved on with his life. Him and Victoria were planning to get married the following spring, despite how rocky things seemed. I was happy for him, as long as he was happy.

It didn’t do any good to show or voice concern- he would try to make an excuse for Victoria’s behaviour, or he would agree with me and then not do anything with the advice. I think it scared me because the situation was somewhat similar to the Ross fiasco.

But one thing was for sure- it was strange to be back in touch with him and not speak to him every day. When we were best friends, we would always check in with each other if we weren’t going out for a coffee. But life certainly changes people.

As time went on, I realized I didn’t miss Ross at all. I was much freer, much happier, without him. I managed to get more hours at the restaurant, so I was keeping busy and making money at the same time. My mind wasn’t anywhere near the direction of relationships or love.

One evening, mid-week, I happened to notice a young man sitting at the bar. This was weird for a few reasons- one, it was the middle of the week. It was also not that large of a city, and most people were elderly and had a bedtime of eight thirty. But our bar was open until eleven on weekdays, so this man sat alone with a tall beer in his hand, staring at the wall.

At this time of night, it was just one person kind of floating around waiting wherever it was needed, since it was such a small place. Tonight, that person was me. This guy must have come in some time ago, then, because I didn’t remember fetching him a drink. He probably came in when there was a rush, and he’d just blended right in with the crowd.

His beer was quite low, so I did my job and approached him to inquire about a refill.

“Hi there, can I get you some more there?”

He turned to face me, and I automatically thought he was extremely handsome. Not handsome in a conventional sense, either- he had jet black hair about the length that Jesus may have had. He wore thick, black rimmed glasses, but they seemed to suit him quite well; he had a full beard; he was dressed in construction clothes, which were extremely dirty. His work boots were worn and his laces seemed to be untied. All around he was quite messy looking… but for some reason I was inclined to chat with him further.

“Please,” he answered me, “that would be lovely.”

I had to force myself to turn away and focus on the task at hand. The drink. I had to get him the drink. I wasn’t the type to hit on men sitting at the bar- I wasn’t the flirtatious type, either, so I had no idea what my plan was, but I felt intrigued enough to say something. Was there something I could say that wouldn’t come across as creepy, cliche, or annoying?

I cracked open the can of beer and slowly poured the drink against the side of the glass. It was a nice amber color. I stared at it for a moment, mesmerized by the tiny bubbles floating up towards the top. I was putting this off. Okay, time to get moving.

Perhaps I wouldn’t say anything- the best solution for dealing with anxiety-inducing situations was avoidance, right?! Of course it was. But I knew that was a temporary fix. I would feel relief from the anxiety, but I would never feel fulfillment from doing something I really wanted to do. It had been months since Ross and I were a couple- perhaps it was time to move on and do something adventurous.

I firmly set the glass down on the counter for him, maybe a little too firmly. I wanted to give him the impression that I was strong and not at all nervous, which was slightly unrealistic, but still.

The man looked at me, a little startled by the slamming down of the beer. Okay, maybe too intense- he would probably ask for the bill and run now.

“Huh. Assertive, I like it,” he commented, taking a sip.

I shrugged. “Can I get you anything else?”

“If you could go into work for me tomorrow, that would be great,” he joked. He stretched and did a big yawn. “But seriously? No, thank you. This is great.”

I nodded and went back behind the bar to clean some glasses. He had been really bothered by something when I first noticed him, but now he was much more alert. He watched me doing the dishes, his head tipped to the side slightly.

“How long have you been working here?” he asked.

“Um… maybe three or four months now,” I said, shocked by my own answer. Where did the time go?

“Ah, I haven’t been here in a while,” he admitted. “Nice place. Small, but not too small. I work just outside of the city, so I drive down here some evenings looking for something to do.”

“I was born here, but I lived out of town for about two years,” I said. “It didn’t work out, so here I am.”

“You were there for work?” he asked.

“Sort of,” I said, hanging the wine glasses. “I did work there, if that’s what you mean. But my ex and I lived there together.”

I stopped and asked myself why I was telling a stranger all of this information. Like he needed to know…

“I see,” he said. “My name’s Oliver, by the way. And I see from your name tag that you’re Charlotte. Unless of course that’s an alias.”

“Why would it be?” I asked.

Oliver shrugged. “People aren’t always who they say they are.”

***

After meeting Oliver, I felt quite strange. Initially I felt really happy- overjoyed, in fact- to be interested in someone. But then I started to feel overwhelmed by anxiety, and my mind went over our meeting at the bar a thousand times. I wondered what kind of first impression I made, if he was interested as well, if I said too much or not enough.

I left the restaurant at the end of my shift, got into my car and just sat in the empty parking lot for a while. I was confused- my heart was racing and my stomach had butterflies, but I couldn’t figure out whether it was a good or bad sensation.

Things appeared to have ended on a good note- Oliver gave me his cell number, and told me to text him anytime. He had smiled alot, he had asked questions. Judging from his words and actions, he seemed interested. But my brain didn’t want to believe that.

I told myself that no one would ever want to be involved with me… after all, I was really messed up after what happened with Ross. And what if the same thing happened all over again? What if he was another Ross- a jealous, controlling psycho?

Psycho.

I guess the word was a bit harsh, but often that’s how I felt Ross acted. And he messed a lot with my mind, to the point where I questioned my own sanity. That could probably be classified as psychotic behaviour. Maybe.

But it wasn’t fair to assume all men would be like Ross, was it? Yet I couldn’t help going there… part of me was very curious, but another part of me was very scared.

All of this worrying and we hadn’t even gone out on a date yet. I was getting way too ahead of myself. I took a deep breath, told myself to relax a little, and turned on the radio. A year later I’d probably look back on these times and realize I was blowing this way out of proportion.

With the music blaring, I pulled out of the parking lot and into the night. I told myself I’d worry about it later, but my mind didn’t work like that.

***

My thoughts felt borderline obsessive- for days I wondered if Oliver was going to send me a message or not. I thought about his jet black hair, how he stretched his arms wide and kicked out his long legs at the bar that night. I thought about how handsome he looked, even in dirty work clothes. How charming he appeared to be.

It’s easy to get caught up in fantasies, though. And that is exactly what I did.

After maybe four days, I told myself there was absolutely nothing wrong with being the first one to send a message. Why did courting someone have to be so old fashioned- the man didn’t necessarily have to make the first move in this day and age.

With shaky fingers, I typed “Hi”, and forced myself to hit “send”.

My behaviour was reminiscent of a high school girl with her crush. I can remember how silly I was back then, and this wasn’t too different- in grade nine, I was obsessed with a guy that happened to be two years older than me. In high school, that was a huge age difference- while I was just learning the ropes, he had to start thinking about post secondary. It’s funny how once you get older, two years means nothing and doesn’t look weird to anyone. Age is a strange concept.

My best friend and I were always obnoxious and loud in front of him, laughing at everything he said, making bad jokes, asking him to hang out every single weekend. Of course, he was quite frightened and probably embarrassed, so therefore wanted nothing to do with me. I knew this. But he was so nice… he never had the courage to tell me the truth. He simply avoided it.

His eyes would dart in every direction while we talked- checking to see if anyone was laughing, perhaps- and he’d fidget a lot, itching to leave. His responses were minimal. Yet grade nine me was determined and blissfully unaware.

One day, about halfway through my grade nine year, my best friend and I entered the cafeteria for some lunch. We had plans to have lunch with this guy (though in hindsight, he probably agreed because he felt too bad for me to say no)! I was so excited, and my friend was just as excited for me. We skipped into the cafeteria, arms linked as we so often did- which was something everyone laughed at us for.

I could see him across the cafeteria, walking towards us. I tried to coolly free myself from my friend’s arm, and apparently doing so while skipping was too much for my flustered mind to handle- in one swift motion I slipped and fell to the ground.

The entire cafeteria- or so it seemed at the time- roared with laughter. That’s the sad thing about high school- more people were inclined to hurt than to help. My friend knelt down and asked if I was okay, but my head was spinning and I was already crying.

I’ll never forget what my crush did- he took one look at my foolish ass on the floor and turned for the back doors to join his friends. He didn’t even bother to ask. I know now that this was very telling about who he is as a person, and I deserved better.

But I still wasted my time worrying. I cried and cried. My friend tried to comfort me, but nothing would help except for time. For the rest of the year, my friend and I ate lunch in the bathroom, stalls plastered in graffiti with hundreds of hate words.

I thought about this time in my life when I thought about Oliver, and what I was potentially getting into. Could Oliver be that jerk that turned away when I needed a hand? He very well could be. But I suppose with everything there is a certain amount of risk you must take.

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night-ghost-writer · 4 years

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Will you tell me a story?

I look up at her from where I am sitting. The coach is comfortable and I let my head rest on her shoulder. She doesn’t seem to care as she continues knitting. She looks relaxed. It’s a quiet scene I have found myself in.

“Will you tell me a story?” I hear myself ask her. And she looks up, a small smile on her lips as she nods. We haven’t done this since I was a little kid. She used to come to my room when our parents were too busy to read bedtime stories to me. She always came up with something new. Some brand new amazing adventure just for the two of us.

She nods, “Do you have any suggestions?” The almost rhythmic ticking of her knitting needles continue.

“Anything is fine, so long as it has a happy ending”, I make myself comfortable and grab the soft blanket to drape it on our legs.

"Once upon a time", I snort at the childish start, but keep quiet after a pointed look, "Once upon a time there was a young adventurer. She loved traveling the world and seeing new places. People thought she was weird. Everyone around her lived in small towns and most would never leave. But our young traveler had been almost everywhere. From the highest mountains covered with beautiful snow to the poor villages with the markets on Tuesdays. And she loved it. She wanted to see everything. She traveled for years, mostly alone, but sometimes with companions that she met on the road -"

"Tell me about them", I interrupt her before I fully realize what I am asking, "the companions I mean." She tends to skip over little details, but I always love it when she makes up characters. "I will tell you about three of them, deal?" I nod, satisfied.

"The first one she met when she had just started. They met in a tavern, a bar if you will. He looked tired and was having a drink. Grey streaks were easily spotted in the mop of hair on his head. He had a big scar on his cheek, almost like a claw mark. She never did find out where it came from, he refused to talk about it. But he had already seen so much. He had already traveled for years, whereas she first started to see the world for the first time. And that day when they met, he told her to always be kind to everyone she met, for she would never know when her kindness would be returned."

"He took her to the sea. He knew a captain who was happy to have a few extra hands around. They sailed the seven seas under a fair captain and a hard-working crew. She thought that he was amazing. He thought her everything he knew and provided answers to questions no one else knew the answers to. When they eventually parted ways he gave her a compass. 'If you are ever lost, go north and come find me', he said. And when she was very old and she had seen everything, she would find him to swap stories and share a drink."

The scarf my sister was making came almost to her knees by now. It was dark purple and in the back of my mind, I wondered if it would reach the ground by tonight. I closed my eyes and let myself disappear into the story once more.

"The second companion stuck around for longer and was more family than anything else. She was older now and knew a lot more than when she first started traveling. It was cold at that time and she found a child on the side of the road. Abandoned and freezing, no money in their pockets. So she took them to a nearby village, paid for something hot to drink and bought them warmer clothes. Their hands wrapped tightly around the cup, eyes as big as plates. And she smiled at them. She told them stories and explained where she was going next. When they gave her their story she invited them along. Neither of them truly had a place to call home, but maybe they could have a family?"

"Together they saw wonderful forests with the weirdest animals either of them had ever seen before. Together they fought off bandits and together they explored a big part of the globe. They went to places where it always rained and to places where the sun never stopped shining except at night. And when the kid she found years ago was ready to let go, she let go as well. When they parted ways they stood before her and the scared kid had changed into a young adult right before her eyes. She gifted them knowledge about the world and they gave it back in the form of a journal they had kept for years filled with adventures that she would always remember. A crushing hug and more than a few tears with a soft, 'please don't forget me', and they went their separate ways. She would never forget them. When years later she heard of an explorer who traveled around the world with nothing but a journal and a will for adventure, she immediately knew who it must have been."

"I told you to make this happy!" "I know", she stopped knitting for a minute, "and I will." Mumbling I shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, "Good because this is not happy it's just very sad." "It's also not the end. Now shush and let me tell the story." The rhythmic ticking resumed.

"The third companion saved her life. She had been ambushed and had been beaten up. Robbed of the little money she owned. Stumbling across the small town to a bar, hoping for some help, maybe some bandages. She is ready to give up and just take a nap on the cold street, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. Suddenly she is lifted by someone, picked up bridal style and carried to the bar she was trying to get to. She lets her eyes close for a while."

My sister shoots me a sharp look, she knows I was about to interrupt. She knows me very well. So I sit back, pouting, as my sister resumes her knitting.

"She wakes up a while later, a worried face hanging above hers. To her surprise, it's a little girl. A girl who could never have carried her anywhere. Almost as if the kid can hear her thoughts she begins speaking rapidly, 'My daddy carried you. I saw you struggle on the streets. You did not look good. You still don't look well to be perfectly honest. You should lay down again. Your ribs aren't going to heal if you're going to move around.' Her vocabulary was excellent considering her young age. In the end, she did lay down again. She learned that the father of the girl was the owner of the pub and she was invited to stay. And so she did."

"She would hang around the pub during the day, help the owner around and do some odd jobs wherever possible. In the evening she told everyone who would listen about her travels and the places she had been to. When she was ready to leave the town the little girl begged her father to join on her travels. Only after promising to return to the town in a few months, she was allowed to go. And so they went. They visited the most friendly village, they saw magnificent creatures that did not seem afraid of them. They saw beautiful flowers and she thought the little girl everything she knew about nature. The little girl was a fast learner and was not afraid to speak her mind. It was a refreshing change."

"In the end, they had to part. They returned to the girl's hometown, they returned to her father. Overjoyed he gifted the adventurer a list of places that he heard of. Drunken people in a bar tend to say everything they think about. It was a list of new and exciting adventures. The little girl promised to go on amazing adventures of her own when she was older. She promised that they would find each other again. They would, the little girl would grow up to write about the adventures she went on. Years later she would stop by and gift our traveler a copy of her most popular book."

I shift a bit, trying to get more comfortable. My back is against my sister's side now, I am almost lying down. She grins down at me, takes a sip of a drink she has standing somewhere beside her and continues telling me the story.

"For years she traveled alone. She didn't mind all that much. She loved the world and got to meet a lot of interesting and very kind people. When she had seen almost everything she found herself in a weird town. The people there told her of a mysterious professor that worked on the hill on the edge of town in a big tower. They spoke of him in hushed whispers, as if he could hear. They told her that he held a girl prisoner in that tower but that none of them dared to fight him."

"That's dumb, why would they not rescue that girl?" My voice is becoming rather tired, but my sister doesn't seem to mind. "The people in the town are just scared of what they don't know." I grimace but gesture for her to continue.

"And so our brave adventurer went to the edge of town and climbed up the hill to the big tower. If no one would rescue that girl, she would. The tower stood tall, next to a small building and it was surrounded by a beautiful garden with colorful flowers and big trees. Had the villagers never seen what this place looked like? They had not described it to look like this. She walked up to the building and the tower, it was a house next to the tower. She had just enough time to hide behind a tree when the door opened and an older guy with a beard and a young woman walked out."

"From behind the tree, she could hear their conversation, 'I have to go now, you know how everything works?' 'Yes sir.' 'I'll be back in a few months, be careful.' 'I always am.' And it was quiet for a while. She didn't know if they left, but it was deadly silent.

'What are you doing behind this tree, if I may be so blunt to ask?' She almost jumped off the hill when she heard a calm voice in the silence. The young woman stood next to her, a puzzled look on her face. After the initial shock, she responded, 'why I am here to save you!' 'From what?' 'The professor who keeps you here as a prisoner of course?!' And to her surprise, the woman started to laugh as if that was the funniest joke she ever heard.

'I am not a prisoner. I am here because I want to be. The professor is teaching me about astronomy. He has a telescope in that tower that he lets me use', she points to the tower behind her.

'Astronomy?'

The smile on the young woman's face became somehow brighter. 'Let me show you', she said. Grabbing her hand the woman lead her up into the tower to a telescope. And she talked."

"The young woman and our adventurer were standing at the top of the tower. Our traveler had seen almost all there was to see in the world. She had seen oceans and rivers, she had seen mountains and valleys, she had seen riches and poor beyond belief. She had learned all she could about the flora and fauna of the planet she lived on. She knew so much, but when the young woman she only just met tells her about space, she is completely lost for words."

"She never knew about all of these planets and the stars. She never knew about the milky way or sought more knowledge about the sun and the moon. She knew so much about her own planet and almost next to nothing about any other. And so she listened. She listened to the exciting woman in front of her who was telling her about all these extraordinary wonders she had never heard of. The next day she came back. And the day after that, and after that. She leans about astronomy and the other planets. And in turn, she teaches the young woman all she knows, everything she learned while traveling."

"Weeks go by and she knows she should leave. The professor will come back sooner or later and she should move on. That's what she told the young woman who had rapidly become her best friend. A sadness appears in her eyes that the traveler wishes to never see again, 'You do not have to leave. You could easily live in the village below and keep visiting me, keep learning and sharing our knowledge, but only if you so wish, of course.' There is hope in her eyes, so much hope. The adventurer thought about the offer and when she looks up she tells the young woman that she'll stay. 'I have always moved on. I always wanted to see more. I always wanted to do more and go to more places. But you? You make me want to stay. You make me want to learn more, but instead of new places I'll learn more about you and learn more about the amazing universe we live in.' So in the end, the adventurer who had seen the world was not yet done with exploring. But now, she had someone to do the exploring with, for good. And they lived..."

"Happily ever after", I finish her sentence. A happy, sleepy smile on my lips. "Was the story alright?" "Your stories have always been good", I yawn, content and happy to fall asleep right there. And as I drift away, I don't see the small smile my sister shoots my way. I don't notice her pulling the blanket that is slipping away over my body and I will only see the abandoned finished purple scarf on the side table the next morning.

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readbookywooks · 7 years

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Inside Information

For a long time the dwarves stood in the dark before the door and debated, until at last Thorin spoke: "Now is the time for our esteemed Mr. Baggins, who has proved himself a good companion on our long road, and a hobbit full of courage and resource far exceeding his size, and if I may say so possessed of good luck far exceeding the usual allowance-now is the time for him to perform the service for which he was included in our Company; now is the time for him to earn his Reward." You are familiar with Thorin's style on important occasions, so I will not give you any more of it, though he went on a good deal longer than this. It certainly was an important occasion, but Bilbo felt impatient. By now he was quite familiar with Thorin too, and he knew what be was driving at. "If you mean you think it is my job to go into the secret passage first, O Thorin Thrain's son Oakenshield, may your beard grow ever longer," he said crossly, "say so at once and have done! I might refuse. I have got you out of two messes already, which were hardly in the original bargain, so that I am, I think, already owed some reward. But 'third time pays for all' as my father used to say, and somehow I don't think I shall refuse. Perhaps I have begun to trust my luck more than I used to in the old days" - he meant last spring before he left his own house, but it seemed centuries ago - "but anyway I think I will go and have a peep at once and get it over. Now who is coming with me?" He did not expect a chorus of volunteers, so he was not disappointed. Fili and Kili looked uncomfortable and stood on One leg, but the others made no pretence of offering - except old Balin. the look-out man, who was rather fond the hobbit. He said he would come inside at least and perhaps a bit of the way too, really to call for help if necessary. The most that can be said for the dwarves is this: they intended to pay Bilbo really handsomely for his services; they had brought him to do a nasty job for them, and they did not mind the poor little fellow doing it if he would; but they would all have done their best to get him out of trouble, if he got into it, as they did in the case of the trolls at the beginning of their adventures before they had any particular reasons for being grateful to him. There it is: dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don't expect too much. The stars were coming out behind him in a pale sky barred with black when the hobbit crept through the enchanted door and stole into the Mountain. It was far easier going than he expected. This was no goblin entrance, or rough wood-elves' cave. It was a passage made by dwarves, at the height of their wealth and skill: straight as a ruler, smooth-floored and smooth-sided, going with a gentle never-varying slope direct-to some distant end in the blackness below. After a while Balin bade Bilbo "Good luck!" and stopped where he could still see the faint outline of the door, and by a trick of, the echoes of the tunnel hear the rustle of the whispering voices of the others just outside. Then the hobbit slipped on his ring, and warned by the echoes to take more than hobbit's care to make no sound, he crept noiselessly down, down, down into the dark. He was trembling with fear, but his little face was set and grim. Already he was a very different hobbit from the one that had run out without a pocket-handkerchief from Bag-End long ago. He had not had a pocket-handkerchief for ages. He loosened his dagger in its sheath, tightened his belt, and went on. "Now you are in for it at last, Bilbo Baggins," he said to himself. "You went and put your foot right in it that night of the party, and now you have got to pull it out and pay for it! Dear me, what a fool I was and am!" said the least Tookish part of him. "I have absolutely no use for dragon-guarded treasures, and the whole lot could stay here for ever, if only I could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home!" He did not wake up of course, but went still on and on, till all sign of the door behind had faded away. He was altogether alone. Soon he thought it was beginning to feel warm. "Is that a kind of a glow I seem to see coming right ahead down there?" he thought. It was. As he went forward it grew and grew, till there was no doubt about it. It was a red light steadily getting redder and redder. Also it was now undoubtedly hot in the tunnel. Wisps of vapour floated up and past him and he began to sweat. A sound, too, began to throb in his ears, a sort of bubbling like the noise of a large pot galloping on the fire, mixed with a rumble as of a gigantic tom-cat purring. This grew to the unmistakable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in its sleep down there in the red glow in front of him. It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterward were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait. At any rate after a short halt go on he did; and you can picture him coming to the end of the tunnel, an opening of much the same size and shape as the door above. Through it peeps the hobbit's little head. Before him lies the great bottommost cellar or dungeon-hall of the ancient dwarves right at the Mountain's root. It is almost dark so that its vastaess can only be dimly guessed, but rising from the near side of the rocky floor there is a great glow. The glow of Smaug! There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber. Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors, lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light. Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the hobbit could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long lying on his costly bed. Behind him where the walls were nearest could dimly be seen coats of mail, helms and axes, swords and spears hanging; and there in rows stood great jars and vessels filled with a wealth that could not be guessed. To say that Bilbo's breath was taken away is no description at all. There are no words left to express his staggerment, since Men changed the language that they learned of elves in the days when all the world was wonderful. Bilbo had heard tell and sing of dragon-hoards before, but the splendour, the lust, the glory of such treasure had never yet come home to him. His heart was filled and pierced with enchantment and with the desire of dwarves; and he gazed motionless, almost forgetting the frightful guardian, at the gold beyond price and count. He gazed for what seemed an age, before drawn almost against his will, he stole from the shadow of the doorway, across the floor to the nearest edge of the mounds of treasure. Above him the sleeping dragon lay, a dire menace even in his sleep. He grasped a great two-handled cup, as heavy as he could carry, and cast one fearful eye upwards. Smaug stirred a wing, opened a claw, the rumble of his snoring changed its note. Then Bilbo fled. But the dragon did not wake-not yet but shifted into other dreams of greed and violence, lying there in his stolen hall while the little hobbit toiled back up the long tunnel. His heart was beating and a more fevered shaking was in his legs than when he was going down, but still he clutched the cup, and his chief thought was: "I've done it! This will show them. 'More like a grocer than a burglar' indeed! Well, we'll hear no more of that." Nor did he. Balin was overjoyed to see the hobbit again, and as delighted as he was surprised. He picked Bilbo up and carried him out into the open air. It was midnight and clouds had covered the stars, but Bilbo lay with his eyes shut, gasping and taking pleasure in the feel of the fresh air again, and hardly noticing the excitement of the dwarves, or how they praised him and patted him on the back and put themselves and all their families for generations to come at his service. The dwarves were still passing the cup from hand to hand and talking delightedly of the recovery of their treasure, when suddenly a vast rumbling woke in the mountain underneath as if it was an old volcano that had made up its mind to start eruptions once again. The door behind them was pulled nearly to, and blocked from closing with a stone, but up the long tunnel came the dreadful echoes, from far down in the depths, of a bellowing and a trampling that made the ground beneath them tremble. Then the dwarves forgot their joy and their confident boasts of a moment before and cowered down in fright. Smaug was still to be reckoned with. It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him. Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule, especially after long possession; and Smaug was no exception. He had passed from an uneasy dream (in which a warrior, altogether insignificant in size but provided with a bitter sword and great courage, figured most unpleasantly) to a doze, and from a doze to wide waking. There was a breath of strange air in his cave. Could there be a draught from that little hole? He had never felt quite happy about it, though was so small, and now he glared at it in suspicion an wondered why he had never blocked it up. Of late he had half fancied he had caught the dim echoes of a knocking sound from far above that came down through it to his lair. He stirred and stretched forth his neck to sniff. Then he missed the cup! Thieves! Fire! Murder! Such a thing had not happened since first he came to the Mountain! His rage passes description - the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted. His fire belched forth, the hall smoked, he shook the mountain-roots. He thrust his head in vain at the little hole, and then coiling his length together, roaring like thunder underground, he sped from his deep lair through its great door, out into the huge passages of the mountain-palace and up towards the Front Gate. To hunt the whole mountain till he had caught the thief and had torn and trampled him was his one thought. He issued from the Gate, the waters rose in fierce whistling steam, and up he soared blazing into the air and settled on the mountain-top in a spout of green and scarlet flame. The dwarves heard the awful rumour of his flight, and they crouched against the walls of the grassy terrace cringing under boulders, hoping somehow to escape the frightful eyes of the hunting dragon. There they would have all been killed, if it had not been for Bilbo once again. "Quick! Quick!" he gasped. "The door! The tunnel! It's no good here." Roused by these words they were just about to creep inside the tunnel when Bifur gave a cry: "My cousins! Bombur and Bofur - we have forgotten them, they are down in the valley!" "They will be slain, and all our ponies too, and all out stores lost," moaned the others. "We can do nothing." "Nonsense!" said Thorin, recovering his dignity. "We cannot leave them. Get inside Mr. Baggins and Balin, and you two Fili and Kili-the dragon shan't have all of us. Now you others, where are the ropes? Be quick!" Those were perhaps the worst moments they had been through yet. The horrible sounds of Smaug's anger were echoing in the stony hollows far above; at any moment he might come blazing down or fly whirling round and find them there, near the perilous cliff's edge hauling madly on the ropes. Up came Bofur, and still all was safe. Up came Bombur, puffing and blowing while the ropes creaked, and still all was safe. Up came some tools and bundles of stores, and then danger was upon them. A whirring noise was heard. A red light touched the points of standing rocks. The dragon came. They had barely time to fly back to the tunnel, pulling and dragging in their bundles, when Smaug came hurtling from the North, licking the mountain-sides with flame, beating his great wings with a noise like a roaring wind. His hot breath shrivelled the grass before the door, and drove in through the crack they had left and scorched them as they lay hid. Flickering fires leaped up and black rock-shadows danced. Then darkness fell as he passed again. The ponies screamed with terror, burst their ropes and galloped wildly off. The dragon swooped and turned to pursue them, and was gone. "That'll be the end of our poor beasts!" said Thorin. "Nothing can escape Smaug once he sees it. Here we are and here we shall have to stay, unless any one fancies tramping the long open miles back to the river with Smaug on the watch!" It was not a pleasant thought! They crept further down the tunnel, and there they lay and shivered though it was warm and stuffy, until dawn came pale through the crack of the door. Every now and again through the night they could hear the roar of the flying dragon grow and then pass and fade, as he hunted round and round the mountain-sides. He guessed from the ponies, and from the traces of the camps he had discovered, that men had come up from the river and the lake and had scaled the mountain-side from the valley where the ponies had been standing; but the door withstood his searching eye, and the little high-walled bay had kept out his fiercest flames. Long he had hunted in vain till the dawn chilled his wrath and he went back to his golden couch to sleep - and to gather new strength. He would not forget or forgive the theft, not if a thousand years turned him to smouldering stone, but he could afford to wait. Slow and silent he crept back to his lair and half closed his eyes. When morning came the terror of the dwarves grew less. They realized that dangers of this kind were inevitable in dealing with such a guardian, and that it was no good giving up their quest yet. Nor could they get away just now, as Thorin had pointed out. Their ponies were lost or killed, and they would have to wait some time before Smaug relaxed his watch sufficiently for them to dare the long way on foot. Luckily they had saved enough of their stores to last them still for some time. They debated long on what was to be done, but they could think of no way of getting rid of Smaug - which had always been a weak point in their plans, as Bilbo felt inclined to point out. Then as is the nature of folk that are thoroughly perplexed, they began to grumble at the hobbit, blaming him for what had at first so pleased them: for bringing away a cup and stirring up Smaug's wrath so soon. "What else do you suppose a burglar is to do?" asked Bilbo angrily. "I was not engaged to kill dragons, that is warrior's work, but to steal treasure. I made the best beginning I could. Did you expect me to trot back with the whole hoard of Thror on my back? If there is any grumbling to be done, I think I might have a say. You ought to have brought five hundred burglars not one. I am sure it reflects great credit on your grandfather, but you cannot pretend that you ever made the vast extent of his wealth clear to me. I should want hundreds of years to bring it all up, if I was fifty times as big, and Smaug as tame as a rabbit." After that of course the dwarves begged his pardon. "What then do you propose we should do, Mr. Baggins?" asked Thorin politely. "I have no idea at the moment - if you mean about removing the treasure. That obviously depends entirely on some new turn of luck and the getting rid of Smaug. Getting rid of dragons is not at all in my line, but I will do my best to think about it. Personally I have no hopes at all, and wish I was safe back at home." "Never mind that for the moment! What are we to do now, to-day?" "Well, if you really want my advice, I should say we can do nothing but stay where we are. By day we can no doubt creep out safely enough to take the air. Perhaps before long one or two could be chosen to go back to the store by the river and replenish our supplies. But in the meanwhile everyone ought to be well inside the tunnel by night. "Now I will make you an offer. I have got my ring and will creep down this very noon-then if ever Smaug ought to be napping-and see what he is up to. Perhaps something will turn up. 'Every worm has his weak spot,' as my father used to say, though I am sure it was not from personal experience." Naturally the dwarves accepted the offer eagerly. Already they had come to respect little Bilbo. Now he had become the real leader in their adventure. He had begun to have ideas and plans of his own. When midday came he got ready for another journey down into the Mountain. He did not like it of course, but it was not so bad now he knew, more or less, what was in front of him. Had he known more about dragons and their wily ways, he might have teen more frightened and less hopeful of catching this one napping. The sun was shining when he started, but it was as dark as night in the tunnel. The light from the door, almost closed, soon faded as he went down. So silent was his going that smoke on a gentle wind could hardly have surpasses it, and he was inclined to feel a bit proud of himself as he drew near the lower door. There was only the very fainter glow to be seen. "Old Smaug is weary and asleep," he thought. "He can't, see me and he won't hear me. Cheer up Bilbo!" He had forgotten or had never heard about dragons' sense of smell. It is also an awkward fact that they keep half an eye open watching while they sleep, if they are suspicious. Smaug certainly looked fast asleep, almost dead and dark, with scarcely a snore more than a whiff of unseen steam, when Bilbo peeped once more from the entrance. He was just about to step out on to the floor when he caught a sudden thin and piercing ray of red from under the drooping lid. of Smaug's left eye. He was only pretending to sleep! He was watching the tunnel entrance! Hurriedly Bilbo stepped back and blessed the luck of his ring. Then Smaug spoke. "Well, thief! I smell you and I feel your air. I hear your breath. Come along! Help yourself again, there is plenty and to spare!" But Bilbo was not quite so unlearned in dragon-lore as all that, and if Smaug hoped to get him to come nearer so easily he was disappointed. "No thank you, O Smaug the. Tremendous!" he replied. "I did not come for presents. I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say. I did not believe them." "Do you now?" said the dragon somewhat flattered, even though he did not believe a word of it. j "Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities," replied Bilbo. You have nice manners for a thief and a liar," said the dragon. "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't seem to remember smelling you before. Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?" "You may indeed! I come from under the hill, and under hills and over the hills my paths led. And through the air, I am he that walks unseen." "So I can well believe," said Smaug, "but that is hardly our usual name." "I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly. I as chosen for the lucky number." "Lovely titles!" sneered the dragon. "But lucky numbers don't always come off." "I am he that buries his friends alive and drowns them and draws them alive again from the water. I came from the end of a bag, but no bag went over me." "These don't sound so creditable," scoffed Smaug. "I am the friend of bears and the guest of eagles. I am Ringwinner and Luckwearer; and I am Barrel-rider," went on Bilbo beginning to be pleased with his riddling. "That's better!" said Smaug. "But don't let your imagination run away with you!" This of course is the way to talk to dragons, if you don't want to reveal your proper name (which is wise), and don't want to infuriate them by a flat refusal (which is also very wise). No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it. There was a lot here which Smaug did not understand at all (though I expect you do, since you know all about Bilbo's adventures to which he was referring), but he thought he understood enough, and he chuckled in his wicked inside. "I thought so last night," he smiled to himself. "Lake-men, some nasty scheme of those miserable tub-trading Lake-men, or I'm a lizard. I haven't been down that way for an age and an age; but I will soon alter that!" "Very well, O Barrel-rider!" he said aloud. "Maybe Barrel was your pony's name; and maybe not, though it was fat enough. You may walk unseen, but you did not walk all the way. Let me tell you I ate six ponies last night and I shall catch and eat all the others before long. In return for the excellent meal I will give you one piece of advice for your good: don't have more to do with dwarves than you can help!" "Dwarves!" said Bilbo in pretended surprise. "Don't talk to me!" said Smaug. "I know the smell (and taste) of dwarf-no one better. Don't tell me that I can eat a dwarf-ridden pony and not know it! You'll come to a bad end, if you go with such friends. Thief Barrel-rider. I don't mind if you go back and tell them so from me." But he did not tell Bilbo that there was one smell he could not make out at all, hobbit-smell; it was quite outside his experience and puzzled him mightily. "I suppose you got a fair price for that cup last night?" he went on. "Come now, did you? Nothing at all! Well, that's just like them. And I suppose they are skulking outside, and your job is to do all the dangerous work and get what you can when I'm not looking-for them? And you will get a fair share? Don't you believe it! If you get off alive, you will be lucky." Bilbo was now beginning to feel really uncomfortable. Whenever Smaug's roving eye, seeking for him in the shadows, flashed across him, he trembled, and an unaccountable desire seized hold of him to rush out and reveal himself and tell all the truth to Smaug. In fact he was in grievous danger of coming under the dragon-spell. But plucking up courage he spoke again. "You don't know everything, O Smaug the Mighty," said he. "Not gold alone brought us hither." "Ha! Ha! You admit the 'us'," laughed Smaug. "Why not say 'us fourteen' and be done with it. Mr. Lucky Number? I am pleased to hear that you had other business in these parts besides my gold. In that case you may, perhaps, not altogether waste your time. "I don't know if it has occurred to you that, even if you could steal the gold bit by bit-a matter of a hundred years or so - you could not get it very far? Not much use on the mountain-side? Not much use in the forest? Bless me! Had you never thought of the catch? A fourteenth share, I suppose, Or something like it, those were the terms, eh? But what about delivery? What about cartage? What about armed guards and tolls?" And Smaug laughed aloud. He had a wicked and a wily heart, and he knew his guesses were not far out, though he suspected that the Lake-men were at the back of the plans, and that most of the plunder was meant to stop there in the town by the shore that in his young days had been called Esgaroth. You will hardly believe it, but poor Bilbo was really very taken aback. So far all his. thoughts and energies had been concentrated on getting to the Mountain and finding the entrance. He had never bothered to wonder how the treasure was to be removed, certainly never how any part of it that might fall to his share was to be brought back all the way to Bag-End Under-Hill. Now a nasty suspicion began to grow in his mind-had the dwarves forgotten this important point too, or were they laughing in their sleeves at him all the time? That is the effect that dragon-talk has on the inexperienced. Bilbo of course ought to have been on his guard; but Smaug had rather an overwhelming personality. "I tell you," he said, in an effort to remain loyal to his friends and to keep his end up, "that gold was only an afterthought with us. We came over hill and under hill, by wave and win, for "Revenge". Surely, O Smaug the unassessably wealthy, you must realize that your success has made you some bitter enemies?" Then Smaug really did laugh-a devastating sound which shook Bilbo to the floor, while far up in the tunnel the dwarves huddled together and imagined that the hobbit had come to a sudden and a nasty end. "Revenge!" he snorted, and the light of his eyes lit the the hall from floor to ceiling like scarlet lightning. "Revenge! The King under the Mountain is dead and where are hi kin that dare seek revenge? Girion Lord of Dale is dead, and I have eaten his people like a wolf among sheep, and where are his sons' sons that dare approach me? I kill where I wish and none dare resist. I laid low the warriors of old and their like is not in the world today. Then I was but young and tender. Now I am old and strong, strong strong. Thief in the Shadows!" he gloated. "My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!" "I have always understood," said Bilbo in a frightened squeak, "that dragons were softer underneath, especially in the region of the-er-chest; but doubtless one so fortified has thought of that." The dragon stopped short in his boasting. "Your information is antiquated," he snapped. "I am armoured above and below with iron scales and hard gems. No blade can pierce me." "I might have guessed it," said Bilbo. "Truly there can; nowhere be found the equal of Lord Smaug the Impenetrable. What magnificence to possess a waistcoat of fine diamonds!" "Yes, it is rare and wonderful, indeed," said Smaug absurdly pleased. He did not know that the hobbit had already caught a glimpse of his peculiar under-covering on his previous visit, and was itching for a closer view for reasons of his own. The dragon rolled over. "Look!" he said. "What do you say to that?" "Dazzlingly marvellous! Perfect! Flawless! Staggering!" exclaimed Bilbo aloud, but what he thought inside was: "Old fool! Why there is a large patch in the hollow of his left breast as bare as a snail out of its shell!" After he had seen that Mr. Baggins' one idea was to get away. "Well, I really must not detain Your Magnificence any longer," he said, "or keep you from much needed rest. Ponies take some catching, I believe, after a long start. And so do burglars," he added as a parting shot, as he darted back and fled up the tunnel. It was an unfortunate remark, for the dragon spouted terrific flames after him, and fast though he sped up the slope, he had not gone nearly far enough to be comfortable before the ghastly head of Smaug was thrust against the opening behind. Luckily the whole head and jaws could not squeeze in, but the nostrils sent forth fire and vapour to pursue him, and he was nearly overcome, and stumbled blindly on in great pain and fear. He had been feeling rather pleased with the cleverness of his conversation with Smaug, but his mistake at the end shook him into better sense. "Never laugh at live dragons, Bilbo you fool!" he said to himself, and it became a favourite saying of his later, and passed into a proverb. "You aren't nearly through this adventure yet," he added, and that was pretty true as well. The afternoon was turning into evening when he came out again and stumbled and fell in a faint on the 'door-step.' The dwarves revived him, and doctored his scorches as well as they could; but it was a long time before the hair on the back of his head and his heels grew properly again: it had all been singed and frizzled right down to the skin. In the meanwhile his friends did their best to cheer him up; and they were eager for his story, especially wanting to know why the dragon had made such an awful noise, and how Bilbo had escaped. But the hobbit was worried and uncomfortable, and they had difficulty in getting anything out of him. On thinking things over he was now regretting some of the things he had said to the dragon, and was not eager to repeat them. The old thrush was sitting on a rock near by with his head cocked on one side, listening to all that was said. It shows what an ill temper Bilbo was in: he picked up a stone and threw it at the thrush, which merely fluttered aside and came back. "Drat the bird!" said Bilbo crossly. "I believe he is listening, and I don't like the look of him." "Leave him alone!" said Thorin. "The thrushes are good and friendly-this is a very old bird indeed, and is maybe the last left of the ancient breed that used to live about here, tame to the hands of my father and grandfather. They were a long-lived and magical race, and this might even be one of those that were alive then, a couple of hundreds years or more ago. The Men of Dale used to have the trick of understanding their language, and used them for messengers to fly to the Men of the Lake and elsewhere." "Well, he'll have news to take to Lake-town all right, if that is what he is after," said Bilbo; "though I don't suppose there are any people left there that trouble with thrush-language." "Why what has happened?" cried the dwarves. "Do get on with your tale!" So Bilbo told them all he could remember, and he confessed that he had a nasty feeling that the dragon guessed too much from his riddles added to the camps and the ponies. "I am sure he knows we came from Lake-town and had help from there; and I have a horrible feeling that his next move may be in that direction. I wish to goodness I had never said that about Barrel-rider; it would make even a blind rabbit in these parts think of the Lake-men." "Well, well! It cannot be helped, and it is difficult not to slip in talking to a dragon, or so I have always heard," said Balin anxious to comfort him. "I think you did very well, if you ask me-you found out one very useful thing at any rate, and got home alive, and that is more than most can say who have had words with the likes of Smaug. It may be a mercy and a blessing yet to know of the bare patch in the old Worm's diamond waistcoat." That turned the conversation, and they all began discussing dragon-slayings historical, dubious, and mythical, and the various sorts of stabs and jabs and undercuts, and the different arts, devices and stratagems by which they had been accomplished. The general opinion was that catching a dragon napping was not as easy as it sounded, and the attempt to stick one or prod one asleep was more likely to end in disaster than a bold frontal attack. All the while they talked the thrush listened, till at last when the stars began to peep forth, it silently spread its wings and flew away. And all the while they talked and the shadows lengthened Bilbo became more and more unhappy and his foreboding At last he interrupted them. "I am sure we are very unsafe here," he said, "and I don't see the point of sitting here. The dragon has withered all the pleasant green, and anyway the night has come and it is cold. But I feel it in my bones that this place will be attacked again. Smaug knows now how I came down to his hall, and you can trust him to guess where the other end of the tunnel is. He will break all this side of the Mountain to bits, if necessary, to stop up our entrance, and if we are smashed with it the better he will like it." "You are very gloomy, Mr. Baggins!" said Thorin. "Why has not Smaug blocked the lower end, then, if he is so eager to keep us out? He has not, or we should have heard him." "I don't know, I don't know-because at first he wanted to try and lure me in again, I suppose, and now perhaps because he is waiting till after tonight's hunt, or because he does not want to damage his bedroom if he can help it - but I wish you would not argue. Smaug will be coming out at any minute now, and our only hope is to get well in the tunnel and shut the door." He seemed so much in earnest that the dwarves at last did as he said, though they delayed shutting the door-it seemed a desperate plan, for no one knew whether or how they could get it open again from the inside, and the thought of being shut in a place from which the only way out led through the dragon's lair was not one they liked. Also everything seemed quite quiet, both outside and down the tunnel. So for a longish while they sat inside not far down from the half-open door and went on talking. The talk turned to the dragon's wicked words about the dwarves. Bilbo wished he had never heard them, or at least that he could feel quite certain that the dwarves now were absolutely honest when they declared that they had never thought at all about what would happen after the treasure had been won. "We knew it would be a desperate venture," said Thorin, "and we know that still; and I still think that when we have won it will be time enough to think what to do about it. As for your share, Mr. Baggins, I assure you we are more than grateful and you shall choose you own fourteenth, as soon as we have anything to divide, am sorry if you are worried about transport, and I admit the difficulties are great-the lands have not become less wild with the passing of time, rather the reverse-but we will do whatever we can for you, and take our share of the cost when the time comes. Believe me or not as you like!" From that the talk turned to the great hoard itself and to the things that Thorin and Balin remembered. They wondered if they were still lying there.unharmed in the hall below: the spears that were made for the armies of the great King Bladorthin (long since dead), each had a thrice-forged head and their shafts were inlaid with cunning gold, but they were never delivered or paid for; shields made for warriors long dead; the great golden cup of Thror, two-handed, hammered and carven with birds and flowers whose eyes and petals were of jewels; coats of mail gilded and silvered and impenetrable; the necklace of Girion, Lord of Dale, made of five hundred emeralds green as grass, which he gave for the arming of his eldest son in a coat of dwarf-linked rings the like of which had never been made before, for it was wrought of pure silver to the power and strength of triple steel. But fairest of all was the great white gem, which the dwarves had found beneath the roots of the Mountain, the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone of Thrain. "The Arkenstone! The Arkenstone!" murmured Thorin in the dark, half dreaming with his chin upon his knees. "It was like a globe with a thousand facets; it shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the Moon!" But the enchanted desire of the hoard had fallen from Bilbo. All through their talk he was only half listening to them. He sat nearest to the door with one ear cocked for any beginnings of a sound without, his other was alert or echoes beyond the murmurs of the dwarves, for any whisper of a movement from far below. Darkness grew deeper and he grew ever more uneasy. "Shut the door!" he begged them. "I fear that dragon in my marrow. I like this silence far less than the uproar of last night. Shut the door before it is too late!" Something in his voice gave the dwarves an uncomfortable feeling. Slowly Thorin shook off his dreams and getting up he kicked away the stone that wedged the door. Then they thrust upon it, and it closed with a snap and a clang. No trace of a keyhole was there left on the inside. They were shut in the Mountain! And not a moment too soon. They had hardly gone any distance down the tunnel when a blow smote the side of the Mountain like the crash of battering-rams made of forest oaks and swung by giants. The rock boomed, the walls cracked and stones fell from the roof on their heads. What would have happened if the door had still been open I don't like to think. They fled further down the tunnel glad to be still alive, while behind them outside they heard the roar and rumble of Smaug's fury. He was breaking rocks to pieces, smashing wall and cliff with the lashings of his huge tail, till their little lofty camping ground, the scorched grass, the thrush's stone, the snail-covered walls, the narrow ledge, and all disappeared in a jumble of smithereens, and an avalanche of splintered stones fell over the cliff into the valley below. Smaug had left his lair in silent stealth, quietly soared into the air, and then floated heavy and slow in the dark like a monstrous crow, down the wind towards the west of the Mountain, in the hopes of catching unawares something or somebody there, and of spying the outlet to the passage which the thief had used. This was the outburst of his wrath when he could find nobody and see nothing, even where he guessed the outlet must actually be. After he had let off his rage in this way he felt better and he thought in his heart that he would not be troubled again from that direction. In-the meanwhile he had further vengeance to take. "Barrel-rider!" he snorted. "Your fee came from the waterside and up the water you came with out a doubt. I don't know your smell, but if you are not one of those men of the Lake, you had their help. They shall see me and remember who is the real King under the Mountain!" He rose in fire and went away south towards the Running River.

#Hobbit

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