CHAPTER 13 | BITTERSWEET BALLAD

THEIR time in Rivendell was on of serene relaxation. Ygritte was glad to be home again. She could not describe the feeling. She awoke at the break of dawn one morning, sitting up in her bed, the creamy, silk duvet slipping from her body as rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tossed her blond hair back from her face. It was a tangled mess, the braid having broken the strands free in the middle of the night, most likely from her intense tossing and turning.

She never could sleep well without her mother being in Rivendell with her. Often a times when she was a young child, Ygritte would slip from her own bed, tip toe down the hallway, slipping passed various of rooms, and climb into her sleeping mother's arms, craving the warmth and protection they provided her in the night. The soft drum of her mother's heartbeat would lull her into a peaceful slumber, where she'd be taken by the sweetest of dreams.

Her lips dipped down into a frown at the thought of her mother. She shook the painful thoughts away and slipped from her bed, dressing quickly in a pair of trousers and a lavender tunic embroidered with black flowers. She slipped her feet into her boots and left her hand lingering over her sheathed sword with slight hesitation. She sighed through her nose and decided rather quick to wrap the belt around her waist, her left hand resting on the hilt of her mother's sword. Even though she didn't need it in Rivendell, she felt a need to have her mother with her at all times.

As she walked down the hallway, she combed her fingers through her long, golden locks, pulling each strand back into a braid that eventually came to cascade over her shoulder and fall to her breasts, a style her mother often displayed, mainly when sparring with an Elf in the training yard.

On her way to break her fast, Ygritte passed by the open area where the Dwarves and Aninth still laid asleep, a single blanket beneath each of them, and a roaring fire that spat out sparks and was crackling with life, provided them warmth. Ryvniss, having must of heard the young blond approaching, raised his head from the sleeping Aninth's chest to stare up at her. Ygritte gave the small dragon a nod as she continued onward, feeling slightly guilty for causing the stubborn dragon to rise earlier than he clearly intended.

When Ygritte had finally arrived in the kitchens, she found near to no elves present. Only few were moving about and preparing breakfast for Lord Elrond, his guests and the other whom take residence. Just as Ygritte had expected, considering how early it still was. Each of the staff didn't have to look up to know it was Ygritte that had walked in. Some of them knew her quite well, especially Isobel.

The beautiful Elven woman with hair as dark as night, turned from the platters she was arranging to greet the child of her late friend, Melisandre. "Mára arinya, Ygritte."

"Mára," Ygritte replied in her mother's native tongue. She placed herself in a chair and smiled towards the Elf. Despite the number of years between them, Isobel had been one of her closest friends as a child. When her mother, father or Lord Elrond couldn't, Isobel was always there to dry her tears and tuck her into bed at night.

"I would ask if you are hungry, but I know you too well, my sweet," Isobel spoke with a teasing smile as she placed an array of delicious fruits and a slice of bread in front of Ygritte.

The blond smiled and allowed the woman to placed a kiss on her forehead in a motherly fashion. "Thank you, Isobel."

"Of course," Isobel softly replied.

As Yrgitte hungrily dove into the freshly picked fruit, Isobel moved across the kitchen to continue her work. She hummed while arranging more platters, and would occasionally glance back towards Ygritte to ensure that the girl was eating enough that she wouldn't go hungry. "Parched?" She eventually did ask her.

Ygritte nodded her head, her mouth too occupied with the food she was chewing to respond vocally. Isobel chuckled softly at the sight of Ygritte's bloated cheeks from the large bite she had clearly stuffed into her mouth. Ygritte never could get enough of Isobel's freshly baked bread.

The raven haired Elf placed a chalice of water before the blond, and used the pad of her thumb to brush away the bread crumbs on the corner of Ygritte's mouth. "You become a mess when it comes to my food," she half scolded the girl, shaking her head with a smile plastered on her flawless face.

Yrgitte chuckled. "That is because you put all your love into everything you make, Isobel."

"You flatter me," Isobel smiled, moving away to continue her work once more.

Not much time passed by before another set of footsteps arrived, coming from the same doorway as Ygritte had entered. The blond looked up from her plate of food to find her father. He was an unusual sight in such a room, and Ygritte showed her shock with the parting of her lips and the pause of her chewing.

"Ah, Ygritte, I thought I'd find you here," Gandalf said as he plucked a grape from her plate and sat across from his daughter. "I take it you slept well?"

"Fine, I suppose," Ygritte shrugged. "I never see you in here anymore."

"I was attempting to find you," her father answered plainly.

Ygritte popped a piece of food into her mouth. "What for?"

"Perhaps we should speak in private," Gandalf suggested, glancing quickly towards the Elven women in the room. He trusted Isobel, of course, but he didn't want even Isobel to know what he had to say.

Ygritte's eyes narrowed in suspension. What was so important that he had to speak with me in private? She nodded after a moment. "Of course."

Ygritte rose up from the table and kissed Isobel on the cheek. "Thank you for the food, Isobel, it was delicious."

"No need for such things, my sweet. You are always welcome in here, you know this," Isobel reminded her. She then winked in Ygritte's direction. "Do come by after supper, Ygritte. I'll keep a special dessert hidden just for you."

"You are too sweet to me," Ygritte spoke with a wide grin. She had a thought as to what sort of dessert it would be, too. With Isobel's talent in the making of bread, came the talent of making pastry desserts. Inside the delicious pastry was usually some sort of baked fruit melted to a delight. Ygritte's favorite part, of course, was the crispy bread. "Tenna then," she said, bowing her head slightly.

Ygritte left with her father then. The pair walked in silence for a little while, simply observing the beauty of the Elven city before Ygritte was unable to tame her curiosity any longer.

"What is it you wanted to speak of?" She asked, glancing up to her father.

Gandalf grunted. "You are quite alert, my dear, surely I'm not the only one who's noticed the anxiousness of the dwarves."

Ygritte's brows furrowed. "I have, but I'm not sure how you mean..."

"I have reason to believe that Thorin plans to leave Rivendell."

"I wouldn't expect anything less of him," Ygritte admitted. It was true. She knew the moment they stepped onto the Elves territory that Thorin wouldn't want to stay for too long. She was surprised he stayed for as long as they have, if she was being completely honest. "When?" She then asked.

"That is what I'm unaware of, which is why, my dear daughter, I bestow on you, a new task."

Ygritte came to an abrupt stop. "A new task?" She repeated.

"I want you to stay with the Company from now on. And when they leave╶ whenever that may be╶ I want you to go with them. They'll need you."

Ygritte frowned slightly. They'll need you. "You won't be accompanying us, will you?"

"I'm afraid not. But fear not, my daughter," Gandalf placed his hand on her shoulder, "you will see me again soon after your departure."

She nodded, trusting his word. If he said that he would eventually catch up to them, then she believed him. Afterall, her father had never lied to her before and she had no reason to believe that he ever would. "I'll make sure to not leave their sight," she promised.

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Ygritte kept true to her word. She stayed in the presence of the dwarves for the rest of the day, listening closely with her ears and watching sharply with her eyes. At one point, she had even spotted Aninth wander off and, not too much later, did Thorin go after her. Or at least she assumed that he was going after her.

"They seem awfully close now," a voice said, startling her.

Ygritte looked away from where Aninth and Thorin had disappeared to, and to Kili, whom plopped down to sit beside her. "It appears so," she said.

"It's rather strange if you ask me. She is of Dragon kin╶ and my uncle does not take too keenly to the likes of scaly beasts."

"She isn't scaly," said Bilbo. Then his brows furrowed. "Is she?"

"Perhaps Thorin would know," Ygritte spoke sign a suggestive smirk. When Bilbo looked a tad flushed in the cheeks, she chuckled. "No Bilbo, she does not have scales. Kili spoke metaphorically."

Bilbo then cleared his throat not long after she spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. "Ygritte, if you do not mind my saying, I am ... terribly sorry for your loss. No child should have to lose someone, let alone their mother, so young."

Ygritte's muscles tensed up, her eyes widened, and her lips parted in shock as she looked to the hobbit. How did he know? And then it hit her. He must've been out strolling the Elven city when he came upon her and Aninth in the gardens. How had they not heard him?

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and forced a small smile onto her face. "Well ... it seems we have a fine burglar indeed."

Bilbo frowned. "I had no intention to overhear. I apologize if I've╶ "

"There is no need for an apology when you've done nothing wrong, Bilbo," Ygritte said. She was well aware of Kili's gaze on her, but she didn't turn to meet his charming brown eyes. "Thank you for your kind words. You are correct ... no child should."

In that moment, from across the way, one of the dwarves had ended the song he'd been singing. With a cheerful smile on his face, Bofur switched his gaze over to Ygritte. "Ygritte, do sing for us! I hear from your father that you sing quite well."

"I don't╶ "

"Oh come on, lass, just one song!"

Ygritte sighed when all the dwarves began to follow suit in cheering for her to sing for them. Even Bilbo seemed to be urging her to sing for them.

"Alright," she reluctantly agreed. Closing her eyes, Ygritte began to spill out a bittersweet ballad in her mother's native tongue. "Over i yen, ni've túl ana hir, i lala erma manen limbe lú does van bime. Still tar's lú ni pole 't help mal crime. Ve ni osán about i tye watching over me, ilya i things ni sinte, tye cen."

Kili was astonished, to say the least. Her voice was heavenly, the most beautiful he has even heard. Even if he could not understand what she was saying, each Elvish word that slipped off her tongue caused his palms to sweat and his heart to gallop like a wild, free horse. It was as though everyone around them had simply vanished and as she sang, it was only them. He felt as though someone like himself didn't deserve to hear such a pleasant voice.

"Ar though tye're lende, tye still hir ways ana luss esse mime larwe. Ana saime faila mana tye would if tye were símen. Ni carrime your mel as me," Ygritte finished, a tear rolling down her fair cheek. She wasn't sure why she chose such a painful ballad to sing for them. She assumed it came from her heart, as her mother has been on her mind too much as of late.

Kili was the first one to speak, his voice sounding breathless, like he had been punched in the stomach and all air had been robbed from his lungs. "Beautiful."

"Indeed," Bilbo agreed as Ygritte's eyes began to open. "What was it, the ballad?"

"It was a tale, where a daughter lost her mother, much like I," Ygritte voiced. She used her hand to brush away her few fallen tears.

"You should sing more often. A voice like yours should not be kept hidden away," said Kili.

"You flatter me, but I'm afraid I'm not that good."

Ygritte found her breath getting caught in her throat when Kili suddenly reached across the empty space to place his hand over top hers. "Ygritte ... you have the most beautiful voice I've heard in all my years," he told her. In his eyes, she found his words to be truthful.

Ygritte's heart began to rapidly race at the compliment given to her. Her cheeks heated up and she smiled softly in his direction, her eyes never leaving his. "Thank you."