The Green Witch

“Sit where you wish, I’m sorry the furniture isn’t nicer,” Eskamë motioned towards her old armchairs and wooden benches that were placed in her parlor. “As I said before, I don’t do much entertaining.”

She walked over to the fireplace and took a pinch of some sort of powder out of a small leather bag on her mantel. She tossed it onto the logs in the fireplace, and within the blink of an eye, fire roared in the pit.

“I’ll be needing some more logs to keep that going through supper,” she said, looking around at the company. Her eyes settled on Dwalin. “You there, fetch a few at the back of the chicken coop if you’d be so obliged.” Dwalin, still feeling the effects of the river, did so without so much as a grumble.

“And you, sir,” she said, putting a hand on Kili’s shoulder, “If you wouldn’t mind getting me a couple of buckets of water from the well,” she said, motioning to the front of the house, where the well stood a way’s a away from the porch.

She started to head back into the kitchen, when she stopped and looked at the party once more.

“I’ll be needing an extra set of hands in the kitchen to help me with the noodles,” she stated, waiting this time for a volunteer. None of the dwarves looked too eager to help out. Fili was the closest to the doorway.

“You,” she said, grabbing the blonde dwarf by the wrist, “You’ve smaller hands.”

The woman led Fili into the kitchen, where a big oak table was covered in a thin layer of flour. On the corner was perched a large white cloth sack, still over half full of the flour. She held out a plain grey apron to Fili. He looked at it and arched an eyebrow back at the witch.

“You’ll have it all over you if you don’t put it on,” she said convincingly enough, as he took it and tied it on.

“I don’t keep much more food than I need myself, but noodles are an easy way to fill up a crowd,” she said, dipping her hands in the bag of flour and rubbing them together. She motioned for Fili to do the same. She then pulled two bowls from under the cabinet, each with a large ball of dough neatly balled up in them. She placed one in front of Fili and took one for herself. She began to work the dough with her skilled fingers, but she noticed Fili motionless.

“Have you never made noodles before?” she asked with genuine curiosity. Fili shook his head but said nothing. “Well do as I do,” she added. She laid the dough on the table and began kneading it. She watched as Fili tried to imitate her but began stumbling over his fingers. She grinned, but felt bad for him, so she walked around the table to him.

“No, no- like this,” she said, taking one of his hands beneath her own and pressing down with his gently, showing him the proper way to push the dough. Though he was small in stature, she marveled at how even just his hand, wrist, and fingers felt so strong in her palm. The skin was marred and scarred; it was rough like sandstone, even covered in the smooth flour. Eskamë’s eyes lingered on his hands and trailed up his forearm. It was sun marked and brawny, matching the hands. It seemed so strong, so protecting, she imagined how the muscles would feel flexing in her hands. When she realized she’d let her hand linger too long over his, she pulled back and turned to pretend to be busy while the blush on her cheeks faded away.

Fili had noticed her gentle touch and the distinguishable awkwardness of the moment caused after it. He stalled for a moment as she turned away from him, and he realized he was breathing harder than he was before she’d touched him. He briefly blamed it on some form of witchcraft and then fought with himself as he remembered he didn’t believe in such nonsense.

Once the dough was kneaded, they rolled it out flat and then rolled it up like parchment. Eskamë showed Fili how thickly and widely to slice it for noodles, and handed him the knife as she went to fish more things out of her many cabinets. They were silent and the tension bothered her greatly. She reached out and felt the emotion of the room and inside of him.

“Oh, for goodness sake, I didn’t put a spell on you,” she said and laughed at the sheer thought of it. Fili was startled by her ability to read his mind so easily and slipped as he sliced the next noodle.

“Agh!” he said, the little knick catching him by surprise. He pulled back his hand in reflex.

“Oh, let me see,” Eskamë said, walking over to him with her hands out. Fili pulled his hands quickly down to his sides, wrapping his cut finger in the side of his tunic.

“No, don’t bother, it’s nothing,” he said quickly, looking up at her with almost a fear in his eyes.

“Oh please, let me have a look, I’ve got a potion that’ll heal a cut faster than lightning strikes,” she said, still holding out her hands expectantly. He remained still.

“I’d rather not,” he said icily, not wanting to get involved with any of the witch’s potions.

She lowered her hands and eyed him carefully before shrugging and going back to pretending the dwarf might have not even existed. She turned back to her cabinets and said just barely over her shoulder, “Well I can’t have you bloodying up supper, so you’re no more used to me in here.”

He stood for a moment, looking as if he had more to say, before he started to exit the kitchen. Reaching out once more and reading his emotions, feeling his discomfort and why, she smirked to herself.

“Send me that cute brother of yours to finish up for you when he gets back with the water,” she toyed, not needing to turn around to know he looked back before he walked out.