Kitten slept long that morning, and from the position of the sun the traveler surmised it was nearing high noon. He cradled a handful of eggs he had pilfered from the nearby farm's chicken coop in his lap for some time before he was finally tempted to eat one himself. Holding one of his small knives in one hand he lightly tapped the tip of the brown oval shell until it gave way, then peeled the hard bits and membrane back before putting the egg to his lips and throwing his head back. The thick liquid oozed down his throat and he tossed the empty shell aside to help himself to another.
He shot a glance down to the still-sleeping girl at his side, hugging the borrowed library book to her chest even as she rested. An unbidden smile broke across his face; he felt pleased to have delighted her with the surprise. Just then her eyes slowly fluttered open and he quickly turned his head hoping she had not seen him watching her, smiling.
He reached for a smoke from his rucksack when Kitten unexpectedly launched herself at him and wrapped him in a tight hug. They both fell backward, Kitten on top of him burying her face into his shoulder as he let out a soft 'oof' and then a deep sigh at the smashed eggs now covering both of them. "You got my book," she whispered into him.
The traveler was completely taken aback by the sudden expression of emotions and clearly had no idea how to respond. He dropped the smoke in his hand on the green grass, flexed his hands a few times, and awkwardly patted the girl on her back. She squeezed him tighter than he thought possible by her small frame before pulling herself up, now seeing the mess of egg goo and shell all over his lap. He sat frozen a moment longer, for all the world looking traumatized, before he righted himself and began to pick off shell bits from his trousers.
He was dismissive of her questions about how he managed to acquire the book for her, and she being clever knew not to push him overly hard on trivial matters.
He knew she had stayed up long into the night reading and asked her if she found the information she needed. She nodded and told him that she knew now that her dream of the bear-woman was not a dream at all, but a blurry memory. And that she knew where she must travel to solve her mystery: somewhere between the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood lay a vale that she believed held the answers she sought.
He turned to her then and asked her if that was her new destination. It would not be a hospitable journey for one such as she, being unbelievably dangerous compared to the safety they had found while traversing the Shire. Without armed and experienced men to guard her... she stood little chance of surviving such a journey. She replied that she did wish to travel there and find the strange place, but not until she was ready. He was glad that at least Kitten made sense in that, if little else.
And then she stood and shimmied out of her trousers and tunic unceremoniously in front of him. His eyes caught a brief glimpse of her shape in the full sunlight before she changed into new clothing and softly he told her that he would have given her privacy to change. She smiled shyly and reminded him that he had seen her before, but still he kept his eyes averted.
She suggested they find more food and perhaps clean up at a nearby river, so he stood, grasping his battered rucksack. The traveler followed her downhill to the river, watching her bounce along while humming a tune unknown to his ears.
At the water's edge, Kitten rolled her pants legs up and waded in the shallow to clean up her clothing. He waited for her to turn her back to him before he tossed down his weaponry and rucksack. His hands found the ties to his trousers and he started to unknot them, but one was so worn it simply snapped off in his hand. He sighed, quickly removed his clothing, and looked up after stepping out of his boots.
Kitten twisted her head away quickly – she had been watching him. Well, nothing more could be done for that and all he could hope for was that she was not scandalized. He walked by her and dunked himself in the cold water, one hand grasping his wadded up eggy pants.
The chill of the water caused his skin to become lined with goosebumps, but it felt good to be rinsed from the grime of the road. He wiped a hand across his dripping face and then he saw Kitten removing her clothing again on the shore. He shook his head and dove under the water, deep into the blackness of the depths where the strongest bite of the chill lay.
When he came up, he saw that she was still on the shore waving a soap bar at him. He did need to clean properly, so he reclaimed his floating trousers and made his way back to her with his eyes downward. He seated himself in waist-high water once there and asked her what the name of the river was. She replied that she did not know, but as she extended her hand to offer him the soap, she instead turned and entered the water herself, taunting him to come after it.
At least she was concealed from wayward eyes now, he thought, and he half-smiled at her antics. She was young and playful, and she probably wanted a good clean too. He did need to soap off his trousers though, and so he followed her back out slowly, allowing her plenty of time to have her game. As he neared her, he held up his hand but she swam away from him again.
Haltingly he followed her again and asked her if she wanted him to be dirty, which only earned him a snicker as she dove beneath the water for several moments. She resurfaced behind him, her hand pressing the soap over his shoulder. He reached up towards the soap, but instead, in the moment of play, he tightly gripped her wrist, swung around and sent a splash of cold water into her face. She sputtered and laughed.
Loosening his grip on her dainty wrist after he had his own fun, he realized that her flesh was warm even in the frigid water, unlike his. And she made no move to withdraw from him.
Treading closer, she let the soft skin of her legs brush against his spindly ones, and no amount of icy water would stop his blood from rushing at that caress, for she radiated a new heat in that moment. The kind that he had not experienced in years. He quietly asked her why she was so hot. Magic, was her answer.
He repeated it back to her, because he agreed that was the appropriate word. His body desired to return her touch, but he resisted with reserves of self-denial honed from his long solitary wanderings. Gripping the soap instead, the traveler pulled himself backwards, putting space between them again. Kitten seemed to accept the end of her game and said that she would let him get back to washing as the water was too cold for him.
And hastily he murmured that it was cold with nothing to warm him.
Then he dipped under the surface and swam back to shore, where he again seated himself in the shallows. There he focused on the task of laundering his trousers, and when Kitten pulled herself out of the water he scrubbed all the harder.
She offered to catch them a fish to eat when he was done cleaning, and so leaving a mound of bubbles on the water's surface to lazily drift downstream, he left the water.
On the grass he seated himself to watch her observe the underwater movements beneath the glassy surface. She said she learned the technique from her bear, and she patiently waited for the riverbed to still enough to bring the fish out from their hiding places again.
Eventually Kitten speared her arm downward, then clumsily fell backward as she fumbled with a large river trout. She made her way back to him once she righted herself, then triumphantly dropped it at his feet. He flashed her a warm smile and now that it was safe to speak aloud again, he asked where her beast had been. She pointed in a direction with curious confidence, and nodding as he listened to her explain its whereabouts, he pulled his newly cleaned trousers across his lap.
Fish provided, she sat down next to him and wrapped her cloak around herself before she shared an incidence about her bear scaring a hobbit on the day that they separated. While she spoke, the traveler picked up a knife nearby and set himself to filleting the fish. Sending hundreds of glittering scales falling onto the ground in front of him was meditative, so as she went on about the poor hobbit fainting from the presence of the ivory bear he began to feel more at ease. The fish was smooth, and he slipped his knife into the underside of the belly, bringing the blade in and out of its flesh slowly.
And then Kitten moved closer to him. He felt her intense body heat caress his still-chilled skin and incredulously asked her if she was cold. She replied that she was never cold, and he clumsily dropped his knife. Leaning forward to retrieve the blade with a shaky hand, the traveler then intently focused on the fish again before she touched his side and asked him if she felt cold to him. He paused, almost comically trying to keep his hands straight without dropping anything.
She laid her head on his shoulder, grinning, before saying that she should start a fire. "I think you already have," came his whispered reply.
She rose to gather dry branches and kindling and greenwood for skewers, and went about setting up their campfire for the evening as was her nightly habit. He was glad for the breathing room for there was little privacy left to them from the manner in which they traveled together, and this new unexpected tension between them was something he knew not how to handle.
He finished the task of fish-cleaning and laid the fillets on the only handy clean surface: his trousers. Then he stood to dump the offal back into the water while cleaning his hands and arms. When he sat down again he sought his rucksack and a smoke, while Kitten dallied over the fire. Soon the amber flames burned brightly and the goosebumps on his skin faded. She sat herself at his side again, picking up a skewer as he took a deep, calming draw of pipe-weed.
And then she leaned over him to reach the fillets at his side, her cloak just barely keeping her decent. He put out his smoke and his hand went up instantly to her side, hovering over the fabric there.
"Kitten," he asked, trying to coherently form his words. "Are you aware of what you're doing?"
"Cooking fish," she said coyly.
"Beyond that," he replied pointedly.
She shot him a slightly guilty, yet hopeful look. "Maybe," she said. "Is it working?"
He paused, not expecting that answer. He told her truthfully that it was getting harder to keep control.
She asked him if he had to keep control. Her tone seemed genuinely curious. He simply said that there were no expectations of such between them.
And then she told him that she liked him.
She liked him. Those were not the words of a candid, experienced woman who was just looking for a roll on the soft grass. They sounded exactly like those of an infatuated girl, one who wanted kisses and hand-holdings and flowers and dances and sweet nothings whispered in her ear.
All the things he did once, long ago, when he loved a girl like Kitten.
Before the darkness claimed all he cared about.
His eyes caught hers in that moment and he told her plainly: he found her desirable, but he could not give her what she wanted, for pieces of him had fallen dark. With that he touched a hand to his heart; she met his hand with hers when he told her that there was much she did not know of him.
She wanted him to tell her of those things, but his memories were deeply-rooted and to bring it forth from the depths in which he buried it would break the tenuous melancholic calm he managed.
He turned his hand over and ran a calloused thumb over her soft, small palm. She had nearly undone him that day and it had been a long time since he had entertained such thoughts for any woman, he offered her as a token.
Rejected, she backed away and returned to cooking the fish, saying that she hoped she had not upset him. Both relieved and yet not, he leaned back on his rucksack and replied that he could say the same thing.
There was a strained quiet between them for a time and then as was her manner, Kitten snapped her head up to say something cryptic. "The Water," she quickly spoke aloud.
"What?" The traveler, as usual, was confused.
That was the name of the river. "The Water," she repeated.
He shook his head, baffled by the sudden change in conversation. He muttered quietly while looking for his tunic to throw over himself and with that he laid back and placed an arm over his eyes, leaving her to her meal alone.
