Chapter Text
“You’re late.” Thorin bristled as the wizard approached him. The spattering of homeless, tired and hungry Dwarves made camp just behind Thorin’s short but bulky form, which was currently sat upon a rock.
“A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.” Gandalf hmphed, knowing full well he was indeed late but he was never one to admit his own faults.
"We've delayed our travel three days waiting for you.” Thorin’s burning blue eyes snapped up to meet Gandalf’s. That’s when he noticed the hooded figure standing just to the side of the unruly wizard. Their shorter stature made him almost believe this stranger to be a Dwarf, if not for their thin frame.
“Ah, yes, well, the help I promised to bring was much harder to find than I originally imagined.” Gandalf nodded with a serious face then took a step to the side as if to reveal something grand. “Thorin, son of Thráin - I would like you to meet Astri.”
The hooded figure stepped forward, lifting one black gloved hand and one bare hand to remove their hood. A woman with fair features was revealed. Hair of deepest red, the likes of which Thorin had never seen, curly bangs framed her face while the rest of her thick curly hair was tamed into a single braid. She placed her right non-gloved hand over her heart and bowed to Thorin. As she rose, that’s when he spotted the familiar mark on her cheek, just under her right eye. A scar from a brand had been seared into the soft flesh of her face, it looked to be well healed but Thorin fumed at what he was looking upon. The meager amount of civility he had towards the two in front of him fell away like a heavy bag being dropped.
A witch.
Her eyes were like labradorite, shifting from blue to green to almost copper. Unnaturally iridescent was her gaze upon Thorin. If he were a lesser Dwarf, he might have recoiled under her heavy eyes, but he was not. He was a King… a King with no throne but a King all the same.
Then she did something peculiar, some strange witchy custom no doubt. She held out her right hand to him, his eyes narrowed at it, then he noticed the tear-drop shaped purple stone on a simple golden band. Was he meant to take her hand in his? No, he would do no such thing. What - so she could curse him?
Blue angry eyes moved back to Gandalf, his trust in the old wizard was waning, but for him to bring a witch? It was outrageous!
“I take it he doesn't know what a handshake is then?” The witch spoke to Gandalf, letting her hand drop back to her side and under her cloak. Trying her best to hide the hurt of this initial introduction. Sure Gandalf had warned her of Thorin’s ire and sure she had been hated her whole life by those who knew nothing about her, but the sting never lessened.
“Do not speak of me as if I cannot hear you, witch.” He all but spat out at her.
“Now Thorin, she is here to help.” Gandalf tried to placate the heated Dwarf, but that only added to the fierce fire now raging before them.
“And what help could this foul witch bring? My people have suffered enough! I should have known better than to hope and listen to the words of a trickster.” The deep tone and agony of his voice betrayed him, for the anger was a shield. Hope was hard to come by in the wake of Dragon fire and Thorin had foolishly allowed himself to do just that.
“Knowing what I am, I understand if you cannot accept my help,” Astri cautiously stepped closer to Thorin. “But if you can extend me a sliver of trust, I can ensure your people do not starve or succumb to the element for the rest of their journey.” Her voice was sweet like honeyed wine, and Thorin hated how damn sincere she sounded.
Thorin pondered her words and once the silence grew too thick, she spoke again. “With your approval, I can prove that I am not speaking empty words to you.”
This caught his intrigue, for what proof could she have? And if the proof deemed her untrustworthy, well then Thorin would have plenty of reason to turn away her so-called help.
After another careful moment of silence, Thorin nodded.
The strange woman stepped up to the large shimmering pond that sprawled to the side of Thorin’s sitting rock. Crouching down at the water's edge she whispered something and pressed her right palm to the surface of the water. The cold lapped at her palm, cooling down the heat this tumultuous first meeting brought with it. Leaning forward from behind her, Thorin’s eyes widened. Just under the surface were hundreds of fish, swimming in place as if in a trance.
“Anyone have a net?” Astri inquired, twisting her head back to look up at Thorin, whose eyes were fixed on his potential dinner. When his gaze finally met hers, she gave him a small smile. Unfortunately, the smile had the opposite effect of what she was hoping for… his face of wonderment quickly soured and he was back to regarding her with disdain.
With a sound fairly close to the sound you’d made when disgusted, Thorin turned away from the witch.
“Thorin!” She called out, releasing the fish from her spell to trot after the angry Dwarf. “Thorin!” She repeated, confusion and dismay lacing her voice. When she reached him she grabbed onto his very solid forearm, Thorin spun to face her and knocked her hand away, his hand quickly at the handle of his sword.
Pushing down the fear she continued. “You ask for help, nay! You need help and have it at your feet and what? You turn it away? Do you fear I am trying to shame you? For all I desire is to feed the men, women and children who have suffered a great loss.”
“I fear what relying on you will cost those men, women and children.” He challenged back, his full ire on display now. “What price we will have to pay.” He started to turn again, thinking he had won, but he froze as she quietly replied.
“Seeing your people safe is the only compensation I seek. I want nothing from you or your people, my allegiance is now beholden to you.”
A strange wind blew as she laid out her first vow. A witch was bound to them, and while it wasn't yet sealed, it was still powerful.
Turning back to her, Thorin spoke in a low voice, “My trust will be something you will never earn, but you have my permission to feed these people.” He paused, his gaze icy and narrow. “Know this, witch, I will not let your serpent's tongue sway me. My blade will happily cut it out if you ever cross me or my kin.”
Astri simply placed her hand back over her heart and bowed to her new King as a response to his very real threat. And with that agreement laid out, Thorin turned and stormed off towards his people.
“Well that went better than I expected.” Gandalf said triumphantly, puffing on his long pipe. The normally stone faced Astri let her discomfort show.
“You intend to have me killed don’t you old friend?” Ancient, tired eyes lock with the wizards.
“Of course not. Not anymore anyway.” He replied slyly.
“Right… How did you put it? An unbound witch is a liability?” Astri raised a curt eyebrow, then sighed, letting out her next words when she meant to keep them to herself. “Being bound to someone who would rather you die than inconvenience them is worse than any punishment.” Her fingers absentmindedly found their way to trace over the scar on her face.
Gandalf winced for he knew what she spoke of, “A bond will form. Even the most stubborn stone will soften over time.”
Those gemstone eyes of hers found Thorin in the distance. Was he to be her stubborn stone? Smoothed over by her kind heart and meek manor, or perhaps ground down with her brute strength and other-worldly powers. She hadn’t encountered such a striking stubborn stone before. Long dark hair, eyes of ocean blue, a firm brow and strong nose. Sure, his looks were pleasing enough, but it was the destiny that she could see swirling around him, the turmoil and greatness flowing out of him like a raging wave.
Thorin Oakenshield, he who would drive out a Dragon and reclaim his land. There was plenty of time for him to grow accustomed to the presence of a witch.
“So about that net.” She looked back at the pond, her neutral face planted back in its place.