Tw:More Thorin and Raewyn banter. Sudden angst (hold on to your seatbelts. It’s gonna be a ride from this chapter on). Raewyn kicks Kili. Bilbo and Raewyn being besties because we need some happiness to keep the energy up. Descriptions of exhaustion because of walking + description of being out of breath because of a fall. I like time skips for the spice. Not that heavy yet.
As some of you may or may not know; I am in a serious writing slump. I halted my whole celebration and everything. I haven’t written anything for this series for two entire weeks straight, so it took some time getting back into the story. Updates will therefore still be slow, but I try to post new chapter every Sunday 19:00 CET. For now; enjoy the chapter and don’t forget to let me know what you think of it!
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When the dwarves have very little screen time in tbotfa so you have to write you own scenes while you are in a writing slump
If the mountains of gold did not appear overwhelming from a distance, they definitely did up close. Having ignored Thorin’s shouts and protests, Raewyn had marched up to the treasure hoard, ready to grab enough valuables for Laketown to rebuild. Yet, unlike she had suspected, no one had come to stop her yet. The king was so caught up in his own mind that he could not find the strength nor the urge to stop the Asha, even though he had been completely and utterly obsessed with the gems and gold.
Picking the purest of jewels from the piles, Raewyn stuffed them in her pockets, not wasting her time on mere golden coins. She knew exactly what was more valuable, and which could remain in the halls forever.
Silent curses spilled from her mouth as she tried to push Thorin’s delusional face from her mind. She was aware that it was only a matter of time before he would confront her again, but she would make sure the men on the other side of the gates held their share of the treasure.
The gold beneath her feet fell with every movement, and the clinking of it was heard throughout the otherwise quiet mountain. Never had treasure looked so sickening, or sounded so foreign, and she nearly grew scared at the daunting amount of jewels. Pushing herself through it, she reached down to pick up another necklace, inspecting the emeralds decorating the chain, before stuffing it with the rest of her share.
A loud clinking was heard from behind her, but this was much further than her feet were. The ranger froze at the sound for a short moment, staring at the coins below her as she tried to identify the footsteps.
When a louder clinking was heard again, it was obvious to her that the person wanted to make themselves known. And with that thought, it did not take long for her to figure out who it was.
“Did he send you?” She asked aloud, picking up a ring from a small treasure chest.
A sharp silence was heard after her question, and she knew the presence had halted his movement.
“Yes.” Sounded a remorseful reply.
Raewyn hummed at the answer, twirling the ring between her fingers. When no other words were spoken, she put the ring in her pouch, turning around to face the prince.
“What will you do?” She questioned, having dropped her hands from the treasure.
Kili only stared at her from the golden stairs, a new sword hung over his hips, though his hand made no move to reach for it. He was clad in heavy dwarven armor, letting Raewyn know that Thorin was indeed preparing for war.
“I do not want to choose.” He confessed through a whisper, looking behind him, silently wishing his brother had been beside him.
“You will have to.” Raewyn pointed out, trying to adjust her tone to Kili’s, even as she felt more anger than regret.
The dwarf frowned upon her speech, slowly making his way down the stairs as he unsheathed his sword. Staring down at it, he threw it down the treasure hoard, swallowing thickly.
“I want to be with you.” He managed out, a defeated look on his face.
“But you cannot abandon your family.” She understood, giving a short nod as she remained in her place.
“Thorin will throw me out when he finds out you left the mountain.” Kili explained, now standing below the golden pile Raewyn was vacating.
“If.” She countered, giving him a warning glance.
“When.” He shot back, his voice steadfast and unwavering.
Observing his confident stance, the ranger sighed, dropping her shoulders.
“I cannot let you do that either.”
“So what will we do?” Kili tried, making his way on top of the pile.
“I don’t know.” Raewyn mumbled, looking up at the ceiling.
“Neither do I,” The dwarf admitted, his voice now closer. “And I am not here to tell you not to grab that gold, for I stand with you. You know this.”
His hands carefully found hers, drawing her attention back to him. Looking anywhere but at him, Raewyn squeezed his hand three times, finally resting her eyes on a pillar in the distance.
“So what will you have me do?” Kili finished.
“I was going to leave eventually,” The Asha confessed, letting her mind wander back to the burning lake they had faced days prior. “My quest ended when Smaug drew his last breath.”
“Then why are you still here?” The prince voiced, even surprising himself with his question.
Feeling her heart leap into her throat, she blinked slowly, having expected this question since their first night in Erebor, yet still unprepared with her answer. In all honesty, she did not even know why she was still here. It was obvious Thorin wanted her gone, but she did not stick around to agitate him on his throne. Nor did she stay for Bilbo, which she might have expected herself to do.
“You know why.” She ultimately answered, letting go of his hand as she took a step back.
“I do,” He admitted, taking a step towards her. “But I need to hear you say it.”
Loud footsteps were heard through the halls as both Kili and Raewyn’s heads shot up at the sound.
“Raewyn!” A voice shouted, seeming out of breath, yet extremely recognizable to the pair. “Thorin sent Kili to-”
Bilbo ran into the treasure room, spotting the two upon a golden hill. He broke his sentence halfway, letting out a sigh of relief as he noticed Kili’s sword missing.
“You did not think I was actually going to kill her?” The dwarf questioned, almost insulted.
“Kill me?” Raewyn repeated, genuinely surprised by the king’s order.
“I wasn’t going to.” He defended, holding his hands up in surrender, his mood suddenly switching.
Looking at the hobbit below and the gates in the distant halls, he inhaled deeply, making eye contact with the ranger.
“Strike me.” He concluded, his voice quiet, though she was sure she had heard him.
“Excuse me?”
“If you strike me and run off, I won’t be banished and you won’t be followed.” The dwarf explained, his tone more urgent as he stepped towards her again, making Raewyn take two steps back.
“I am not going to strike you.” She hissed, taking a quick look at Bilbo below, who seemed confused at the entire exchange.
Kili groaned in frustration, holding his hand up as he gently turned Raewyn’s head to face his.
“Please.” He pleaded, his eyes nearly begging as he lowered his arm.
The Asha only managed to stare at him, a hurt look flashing across her face. Kili’s face set in such sadness, yet determination, and she absolutely hated it. She would not strike him just to please Thorin. But she did not want Kili to get banished because she ran off without his interference.
Feeling her heart sink, she placed her feet further apart, staring at Kili with desperate eyes. But his intentions did not seem to waver. Instead of running towards her, he stood there, unmoving, waiting for Raewyn, whose mind was reeling by now, begging her to let him stand there and simply run off.
But before her inner conflict could get the better of her, she rest her weight on her left leg, kicking her right one from underneath her. Her foot harshly collided with Kili’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs as he fell down the treasure hoard.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she ran down as well, on the other side of the fallen dwarf. Turning only briefly to look at Bilbo, who had ran to Kili’s side. Blinking fiercely, she made way for the main hall, preparing herself to leave the mountain.
“You knew about Mithril forging.” She heard Kili’s voice call out. It was out of breath and shaky, but it was there.
Her footsteps wavered slightly, her pace fading as the lump in her throat began to swell.
“Keep it,” She called hoarsely. “It belongs to you.”
——
The walk towards Dale seemed longer, and more tiring, than it had perhaps been. Though Raewyn had been of stronger build, she began to realize the treasure in her pockets only made her footsteps heavier. She had already offered Farris a few chains in case she would be caught, but even those four lesser chains did nothing to fade the weight pulling at her trousers.
“Raewyn, wait!” Someone called out. Someone fairly close to her.
Before she could answer, Bilbo suddenly appeared in front of her, pulling a ring off his finger. One that Raewyn quickly recognized as the ring the hobbit had offered her in Mirkwood.
“Bilbo?” She spoke bewildered. “What are you doing here?”
The hobbit stuck his hand inside his coat, pulling out the ever-gleaming Arkenstone.
“Thorin is no longer the same,” He stated. “Perhaps this way we can encourage negotiations.”
“It is better off destroyed.” Raewyn countered, scoffing lightly. “Perhaps by making the one thing he longs to hold unobtainable, it will drive him mad enough to knock some sense into him.”
“We are not going to do that.” Bilbo objected. “This is for Bard.”
The ranger squinted her eyes upon his words. “For what? I have enough jewels here to save the people of Laketown.” She explained, gesturing towards the chains hanging from her pockets.
“That is also why I am here,” The hobbit muttered, taking another step towards his friend. “Bring it back, or- or keep it.”
“I’m sorry?” She questioned, visibly taken aback.
“Raewyn, you have told me so many tales and stories about the kingdoms of old and your avoidance of them,” Bilbo told, stuffing the Arkenstone back in his pockets. “Don’t throw yourself in deep of them because of one dwarf.”
“Thorin has nothing to do with this.” The Asha hissed, not angered by the hobbit, but angered at the insinuation of Thorin’s approval.
“I know,” Bilbo smiled knowingly. “Go back to Erebor, Rae.”
“Bilbo-”
“No,” He halted. “This is me putting my foot down.” Slamming a foot down to prove his point, he aimed his finger at the ranger, who was looking at him in silent judgment. “You have helped me so many times, now let me help you. And I am not in the mood to deal with another stubborn dwarf.”
Raewyn stared at him, trying to find the proper words to argue with him. But she knew he would not quickly change his mind. She knew he was leaving for Dale, regardless of her words. She could force him to run back to the mountain, had an urgent thought not suddenly crossed her mind.
“The orcs are on their way to siege Erebor,” She spoke without thinking.
Noticing Bilbo’s sudden shock and surprise, she sighed deeply. “Gandalf sent me a letter.”
“Have you warned them?” The hobbit asked, alarmed at the speech of his friend.
Raewyn swallowed thickly, looking at her feet for a short moment before turning to look back at the shorter creature.
“I wanted to.” Was all she said, letting Bilbo do his thinking on his own.
As if she could hear the gears turning in his head, she looked at the hobbit staring far-off, trying to understand her words. And when he did, his face revealed his realization, making Raewyn form her lips in a thin line.
“Revenge will not make you feel any better,” Bilbo whispered, resting a hand on her lower arm, silently pleading for her to turn back.
“I know,” She agreed quietly. “But with his mind, and his actions against the survivors of Laketown….”
Looking deeply into Bilbo’s eyes, she shrugged, causing the hobbit to drop his hand. “What if he does not get better? Will we let him rule by his own selfish bidding?”
“It is his kingdom.” He sighed, though the hobbit himself was not pleased by the thought. He knew Raewyn was right, and that his rule would be his end, but he did not dare to interfere with Thorin’s rule as the ranger had.
“So we let him get devoured by his own greed and power?” She exclaimed in exasperation. “He threatened and tried to kill me multiple times! He sent Kili after me. Kili won’t kill me, but the next dwarf might.”
Upon the name of the dwarf, Raewyn seemed to halt her next sentence, freezing upon a frightening thought. Gasping lightly, she took a step back.
“What was I thinking?” She mumbled, turning to look at the mountain in the distance. “Thorin might be insane, but he isn’t stupid. He’s going to kick him out.”
——
Where Raewyn had thought the walk to Dale was challenging, she found herself out of breath with every step she took back to the mountain. Farris had been following Bilbo regardless of her owner returning to Erebor, but Raewyn couldn’t find the urge to call the owl back.
She had already dropped a couple of necklaces and chains, but it was not the weight of the gold that made the climb back up so difficult. It was the dawning realization that she was to face Thorin once more. To try to bargain with him once more. And with the stubbornness of both of them, she knew she wouldn’t get far. Yet she had to try to talk to him, or at least try to stop the king from kicking anyone out.
From above her, she could hear two pairs of footsteps walking around, alerting her that there were dwarves up there guarding the gate, or perhaps even waiting for her arrival. Having only recognized one dwarf upon the noises, she halted momentarily, waiting for the second pair again. But when they appeared frozen, she pushed her shoulders back, simply walking up the remainder of stairs.
Almost immediately, Bofur ran up to her, his face laced with confusion and slight desperation.
“Lass, what are you doing here?” He pleaded, grabbing her arm to stop her movement.
Tearing her arm from his grip, she continued her path towards the gates.
“Where is Kili?” She questioned, the dwarf trailing behind her.
“He’s inside,” Bofur answered, shooting a quick glance towards Dori, who sat down beside the gate. “But why-”
“Where is Thorin?” Raewyn interrupted, now walking into the mountain.
“I suppose he is in the throne room, as usual, but-”
“How important is it?” She sighed, turning around to face Bofur, giving him an exhausted look, her breath still labored from the climb.
The dwarf took a deep breath, holding his finger up, though he seemed to have trouble finding the words that were yet to be spoken. After a short while, just as Raewyn was about to resume her path, he spoke up.
“Where have ye been?”
Looking at him, she frowned lightly, having expected another question entirely.
“That is not important,” She answered, before pointing to Dori, who was still watching from outside. “I need you to gather the dwarves.”
With those words, she took off again. It took a quick second for Bofur to realize she was leaving again, stumbling over his steps as he tried to catch up.
“Why?” He wondered, followed by a slightly more careful: “I do not think you have the authority to-”
“This is not a formal request, this is me asking you a favor as a friend.” The Asha shot off again, holding her hand up to emphasize her point. “Orcs are on their way to attack the mountain and - unless Thorin decided that his treasure is not worth pining over obsessively -, he is going to sit here and let it happen. So either you gather the company or I will, but I need them here before sunrise.”
That shut him up, his footsteps fading as he let the words slowly, but surely, sink in. Swallowing harshly, he stopped, letting Raewyn continue her own path.
“What’ll you do?” He called after her.
“That depends.” She voiced back, no longer turning around to face him.
“Depends on what?” Bofur dared to ask.
Raewyn sighed audibly, beginning to grow slightly annoyed at the curious dwarf. Yet, she answered him truthfully; “Depends on who is still walking these halls.”
Having finally accepted her words, Bofur took off running, rushing to find the dwarves, who had all scattered amongst the mountain. Where most of them were still on the look for the Arkenstone, there were some who had taken it upon themselves to discover the halls and kingdom itself. With the leave of Thorin of course. But they could be hiding anywhere, and sunrise was mere hours away. Both Bofur and Raewyn were running out of time.
——
Having known the way to the throne room better than she had liked, Raewyn was quick to find Thorin, and on his side Fili. The two seemed to be too caught up in their conversation, but the Asha could not quite hear what they were saying. Nevertheless, the absence of Kili did not go unnoticed by her, and it send her into another internal panic.
Fishing out the last couple of necklaces from her pockets, she threw them on the floor, aiming them at Thorin. The sound of the falling gems and gold immediately caught his attention, his head snapping up at an alarming rate.
“You,” He seethed, raising from his seat, staring down from his steps. “You attacked my kin. My sister’s son!”
The Asha only walked up to the steps of the throne, pointing her thumb towards Fili.
“Both of them, if you want to make a list.”
“You have a lot of nerve coming back.” He taunted, his voice sharp, as Fili frowned at the exchange.
Raewyn tilted her head to her right side, shrugging as she neared the first step.
“Yes, well, I was halfway down the stairs when I realized I hadn’t bothered you enough yet. I came back to make it up.”
“Do not think your humor masks your intentions,” The dwarf spoke clearly, his voice booming throughout the room. “I know why you are here.”
“Do you now?” She teased. “I highly doubt it. There’d be a lot more panic here if you had.”
“Do not play coy with me, Asha. I have seen your looks,” He roared, angered at not only her words, but her mere presence. “I am not as blind as you might be.”
“That’s an ironic thing to say.” Raewyn mumbled to herself, stopping on the second step as she looked at Thorin. Noting his sword missing, she suppressed the urge to smile, yet she could not help but let a small smirk show.
“Look, oh your great dwarvishness with your absurd crown and your heavy robes that weigh twice as much as your pride,” She proclaimed, Thorin’s face switching that to one of confusion, before falling back into rage. “You have orcs marching up to your gates. To your bloody treasure that you intend to dwell over your entire life. They will be here in two, if not one night.”
The king made no intention to speak, nor did Fili, though he dared to let a pleading look fall into his uncle’s direction.
“I do not know what you long to do with this information, but if you will not make a call, I am gathering the company and we shall leave.”
And with her speech, Thorin began to smile. A smile so mockingly, that she wanted to do nothing more than to slap it off, throwing him off of the stairs for good measure.
“They will never walk with you.” He laughed lowly.
“Perhaps,” She shrugged, her eyes falling onto Fili. “But they will walk with him.”
Thorin’s smile faded as his eyes cast upon his nephew, giving him an accusing look. Yet, he was quick to stare back down at the ranger.
“I see your plan,” He mumbled, though his voice echoed through the halls. “Was this truly how you envisioned it? Convincing us that a threat is nearing, when the real threat hides in Dale?”
His voice sent shivers down her spine, her mind casting back to her encounter with Smaug. The strong and witted words that fell from his mouth appeared as if they were now in Thorin’s brain The dwarf of earlier did not have this way of speaking, nor did he feel confident enough to speak them, but he was no longer holding back.
“Was it not you who set out to help them?” He resumed. “And now you have returned. Perhaps because they did not want the treasure, but I highly doubt it.”
Finally, the king moved, taking a step down the stairs, walking at an agonizingly slow pace, glaring at the Asha below him.
“No, you came back for something else. You came back to take something with you. Something that you forgot the first trip,” Another step was taken down, though he halted, as if to ponder over something.
“No, not forgot; incapable of bringing along. You changed your mind, so you came back to get him. Is that not the case?”
Now he was standing only a small step taller than her, giving him the opportunity to look down at the ranger, giving her a daring smile.
Squinting her eyes slightly, Raewyn frowned at him, a million words and thoughts rushing through her mind as she tried to carefully calculate her next words without revealing too much. But once more, her tongue was quicker than her mind, and the words started falling freely.
“Every second you sit here, your mind becomes more delusional.” She hissed. “The orcs are real. And they will be here soon. As for your supposed genius speech; I came back to warn you, hoping that you might still have some common sense knocked into you.”
Thorin tilted his head up, looking at his nephew behind him, before letting his eyes fall onto the wall behind Raewyn, no longer bothered by her words.
“So, were I to say Kili ran after you, you would not care?”
Upon his words, her jaw began to clench, one of her hands squeezing together, as she swallowed thickly. He could not have followed her, she tried to convince herself. She would have heard him. He would have called after her, or at least ran after her. His boots were heavier than all others, so she could have known he was coming from miles away. It was simply impossible Kili had ran after her.
Yet the thought of it did not seem faux enough. She knew he very well might have done it, and he might have been more quiet than usual, having known about her years as a ranger. But he had never once considered it before. Why would he have changed it all of the sudden?
“I will not fight for your sake, your name, your throne, or your claim,” She changed the subject, referring to her earlier words about the orcs, purposely not mentioning Kili. “I will lead the company away from this mountain, so I shall fight to defend them. Sit here and rot, I could not care any less.”
Stomping down the stairs angrily, she huffed loudly. From behind her, she could hear Thorin sit back down on his throne, as Fili finally began to move.
Nearing the necklaces she had earlier thrown on the ground, she stood on top of them, pushing much force into her steps as the rubies and emeralds shattered under her boots, the gems falling into a million tiny pieces.
“You should leave soon,” Thorin called, his speech mocking, though his voice sounded angry again. “Perhaps your orcs have already found him.”
Watch the hobbits, he said. It’ll be fun, he said.
Tap for better quality
I dearly want to point out that this was made before I figured out how to change the quality on ProCreate, so yes…..it does look quite boxy, but you will have to live with it.
——
Post-Erebor
In which Bilbo needs some time for himself (highly likely with Thorin ;)) and Raewyn has to babysit Frodo, who proceeds to invite Merry and Pippin. Kili is not allowed to laugh or he has to sleep outside.
Sting was a mere dagger forged by the elves of Gondolin ages ago. It was a blade that could glow blue when orcs or goblins would approach. Suiting for a Gondolin knife, it could cut through the webs of Ungoliant and her spawn easily. Though a mere dagger for men and elves, it was the perfect length for a hobbit to use the blade as a sword.
The dagger came into possession of three trolls that were dwelling in Eriador, having coming down from the Ettenmoors. In the year 2941 of the Third Age, Thorin Oakenshield and his company encountered the beings, and took share of their hoard, with them the blade, Glamdring and Orcrist. The blade got its name after Bilbo Baggins used it to stab a spider in Mirkwood, who claimed the metal ‘stung’.
After the journey to Erebor, Bilbo kept Sting in his possession. As he left for Rivendell later (T.A 3001), he took the blade with him. When Frodo Baggins, his nephew, later arrived in Rivendell to bring the One Ring to Lord Elrond, the pair reunited. As it came clear Frodo would be joining the quest to Mordor, Bilbo gave him Sting, for protection.
Samwise Gamgee took over Sting for a short moment in Return of the King, when him and Frodo were lured into Shelob’s liar. He used the sword to cut down the webs of her nest and to later save Frodo from a certain spider death.
Gollum, a creature who had traveled with Frodo and Samwise, harbored a deep distaste for anything made by elves, with that including Frodo’s sword. He had seen it before in the Misty Mountains, when the company of Thorin Oakenshield met the goblins of Goblintown. Bilbo had pulled the dagger on Gollum for his own safety, hence the recognition of the blade.
As Sauron was finally vanquished at the end of the Third Age, Frodo left for the Undying Lands. It is unknown whether he had taken Sting with him, or left it to Sam, along with the book he and Bilbo wrote.
Summary: The Company had finally gone to sleep, but visions begin to plague Sisilla’s mind. With meeting Beorn and having to go to Mirkwood and take the Elven Road, the tides are starting to churn for Sisilla and Thorin for she may be the greatest asset for them if they are to encounter the elves of the Woodland Realm.
After the company congratulated Thorin and Sisílla in their new courtship, which many were surprised it didn’t happen sooner, everyone settled in for the evening knowing that the Skinchanger was out, protecting his home from Azog and his pack. But it all was for nothing for Sisílla. As she laid on her bedroll, Thorin next to her, she began to whimper in her sleep quietly. Her head was lolling from side to side. Her words, although slurred, were Quenya. The ancient Elvish tongue. Thorin stirred from his sleep as he heard her speak in the Elvish language and looked over to see her in a cold sweat and her eyes clamped shut. Sitting up, he reached over to her only for her to thrash in his arms and let out a scream. Startling the company awake, everyone saw Sisílla struggle against Thorin which made everyone jump and try to help them both. But as everyone was out to help, Gandalf bellowed.
“Do not touch her!” His voice booming like thunder.
Everyone, including Thorin backed away from Sisílla as Gandalf came close to her and rested a hand on her forehead. Muttering under his breath, Sisílla slowly calmed and then jolted awake. Gasping for air as if she came out of the water.
“THORIN!” She called out in a panic.
Gandalf furrowed his brow and glanced over at the said Dwarf, nodding in approval for him to approach her. Taking only a few steps, Thorin was at her side and grasping her small and clammy hand in his own.
“Ghivashel, I’m here.” He reassured her as he brushed away the stray hairs that clung to her forehead.
All she could do was follow the length of his arm and finally hook around his neck to hold him close. Her free hand feeling across his face and lips for any evidence of injury. Everyone could only watch her as she was comforted by Thorin and whispering in Khuzdul that she was safe and well. Bilbo was heartbroken and confused at what was before him, but when he looked up to Gandalf, he noticed the wizard had a concerning look in his eyes even though he was trying to be calm. As everyone calmed down and went back to sleep, Thorin kept a close eye on his beloved as she finally fell back to sleep. Gandalf had watched the two, specifically Sisílla as she finally eased into a much needed sleep. Bilbo had made his way over to the wizard and followed his line of sight to Sisílla’s sleeping form.
“Is she going to be alright?” Bilbo asked, worry etched onto his features. He had grown fond of her, and she with him as they had many great conversations about where they lived, reading many books, and small adventures they had before following the great Thorin Oakenshield.
Gandalf snapped out of his many thoughts and looked down at the hobbit and flashed a warm smile, or as warm as he could muster. “She will be just fine, Bilbo. Now, get some rest. We have a long journey still ahead of us.”
With a slight nod, he began to head to his bedroll. But not before glancing over his shoulder and watching Thorin be so attentive to Sisílla. This was probably something Bilbo would have seen if Thorin was engaged… or courting. It was a nice change to see him like that. As he felt Gandalf staring at him, Bilbo wished him a good night and finally went to his bedroll. As Gandalf nodded at Bilbo, he turned his gaze back to Sisílla. Sleeping soundly and Thorin relaxed and with his eyes closed, Gandalf couldn’t help but wonder.
What did she see?
~Rivendell, 8 months ago~
“Are you absolutely sure that she will be safe?” Lord Elrond asked right after the White Councils meeting.
Gandalf huffed, unsure how to answer his good friend. Of course she was, she had the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Though, he hadn’t the slightest idea how well it would be taken for a woman such as herself to be in the midst of this treacherous journey. And with dwarves already being secretive and stubborn. Who knows how they would react. Especially Thorin! But she also had insight of what is yet to come, and she had such confidence in the young king. But could it be the infatuation that was blinding her deepest thoughts? It was most uncertain and he couldn’t give a direct answer for Lord Elrond or to himself.
The Elven Lord seemed to have had his answer, loud and clear. “Then it is settled, she stays in Rivendell.”
“My lord…”
“I cannot risk the life of her just so she can succumb to what her heart desires.” Lord Elrond started. “Gandalf, you know as well as I that the budding romance that she and Thorin has begun between them will never work. Not with her celibacy and her duties as the Oracle.”
“She knows of this as well. It is simply too risky for her to travel with the likes of Oakenshield. If anything was to happen to her, either it be from the Dragon, Azog, or worse. Then the fate of Middle-Earth may be in jeopardy.”
“I swear to you, no harm will come to Lady Sisílla. She is in the safest hands, if not within the company, then most certainly with myself.” Gandalf reasoned, although it was far out there.
~~
He knew it was a far cry to have her come, but Gandalf knew as well as her that she was destined to be at and in Erebor. Her place was there for however long. With a low and quiet sigh, he muddled over to his bedroll and carefully made himself comfortable before scanning across the large room. Counting each dwarf, then Bilbo, and then Sisílla. With validation that she was well tended to, the gray wizard soon drifted to sleep along with the others.
As morning came and unlikely introductions to their host, Beorn, the entire Company quietly gathered around the enormous large table to have breakfast and discuss where they were going to the Skinchanger. As he had asked about where they were heading off to and Gandalf being direct but also discreet, Beorn couldn’t help but wonder why a woman such as her standards were in a company of dwarves. Thorin, who had leaned against the enormous beam near Sisílla and Fíli glanced to Beorn and then to Sisílla.
“If I may ask why a woman such as she, in the presence of dwarves?” The Skinchanger asked with curiosity.
As Thorin straightened himself to defend Sisílla, she tilted her head in Beorn’s direction. “To help not only reclaim what was stolen from them, but to also help what is yet to come.”
Her words were something that caught everyone off guard. Especially Gandalf, and most definitely Thorin’s. Was there something that was yet to come and she had seen the outcome? What was it? Now they had more to worry about.
As they finally gained the assistance of Beorn to use his horses and ponies to ride to the Edge of Mirkwood. Sisílla and Gandalf spoke to Beorn in private, something Thorin, although against not being by her side, understood the reason. Eventually she would tell him. He hoped. With word of the Necromancer in Dol Guldur along with the orcs growing more and more with each passing moment, Sisílla shuddered and closed her eyes as Gandalf and Beorn continued. The vision she had was still fresh in her memory and the taste of death as raw as reality. Caught up with what her vision was, she was taken back to the present moment when she felt a rather large hand on her shoulder.
“What do you see, Sisílla? Seer of Middle-Earth?” The Skinchanger asked.
Gulping, Sisílla laid her tiny hands, compared to Beorn’s stature, on his forearms for support. “I see death… but life as well. It is too far off to give a clear answer. I am sorry.”
With a gentle grunt, Beorn guided her hands to Gandalf’s carefully. “You must go, while you still have the light."
And if on cue, the howls of wargs rang across the treetops. Sisílla rode with Gandalf as they and the Company galloped to the edges of Mirkwood. Her visions came back as they drew closer. A different vision, of cinders and fire destroying people. Sudden cold and wet feeling. And a pair of arms holding her to keep her warm. It wasn’t clear who it was, or where they were. She had more questions than answers once again. The last time was when she had her first dreams of Thorin. But now another man? Of Men!? Or was it an elf? The vision was in its infancy and she hated those types when things are not clear, but evident that it was important for her and the person she was to meet. Whoever it was, she had to clear her thoughts as they were getting closer to Mirkwood.
As the forest’s edge became visible, the company slowed to a halt and dismounted the horse and ponies. Thorin made his way to Sisílla who was looking out to the vast lands that they had just traveled and looked up at her. Her usual calm demeanor all but lost as her brows were knitted and her eyes looking so focused than he has ever seen them. Her hair windswept from the ride as some loose hairs fell out of her braid that he had worked on first thing in the morning. His crystal blue eyes followed down her arm to her hand where he could see that she was doing her best not to clench them. How he longed to know what she saw in the visions, just to share the burden with her so she wouldn’t have to be the only one to see what is yet to come. Was it maybe to gain some leverage on his enemies and maybe his own kingdom? Possibly. But to know that Sisílla was the only person across this land to have such a duty to all, he wanted her to be at ease and not be plagued by the visions.
Sliding his hand into her smaller one, Thorin could see how she visibly relaxed and smiled a smile of relief. He would never grow old of her smile which also placed in a sense of ease for the time being. But as soon as Bilbo commented on how the woods looked sick, Gandalf stated that he had other business elsewhere. Everyone was in shock, especially Sisílla for she knew who awaited for them in those woods. As Gandalf was about to gallop away on his horse, he looked over to Sisílla as she was now their guide and saving grace if anything was to happen.
“My lady, you must help them. Do not lose the path.” Gandalf informed.
Craning her head up, she furrowed her brows and looked as though she was panicking, and she was. Never had she guided anyone, it was someone guiding her. And to lead a group of dwarves, it was hard enough as it is just traveling.
“I can’t. You know that it’s redundant to have the blind leading the sighted.” She exclaimed.
“My lady, you will be their greatest asset if you are to meet with the elves.” He explained, knowing of her reputation among the elven kingdoms.
Lowering her head, she nodded and turned her head to where Thorin stood only to feel him squeeze her hand for reassurance. Gandalf knew she was not confident being on her own for being a diplomatic figure alone. But, he needed to make sure that Thorin and his short temper wouldn’t lead them to their doom. As Gandalf left, Thorin looked over to his men as they heard about Sisílla’s new role in guiding them along the Elven Road. Kneeling down, Sisílla unlaced her boots one by one and slid her socks off before placing her bare feet to the earth. Thorin slid her boots into her rucksack before guiding her to the stone flag path that was the Elven Road. Feeling the cold stone under her feet, she leaned down and touched the stone with her finger tips before looking straight ahead and standing upright.
“This way, and stay close. These woods are no longer safe.” She explained. ‘We are not alone…’
And off the company ventured into the depths of Mirkwood.
Word Count: 3530 Warnings: Fluff, Thorin (He is a warning you haters XD) Summary: After being chased out by orc packs day in and day out, and now a skinchanger on their tail. Gandalf sends the Company to the house of Beorn. Meanwhile, Thorin finally makes the decision to take the next step with Sisilla. One that he is afraid of hearing the answer in all honesty.
(A/N: If you would like to be added or removed, please let me know in the comments or in private message. Enjoy!)
A year into this journey to reclaim Erebor and it had already been many close calls, strength in friendship and comradery. And with Sisílla, it brought a new sense of adventure and challenges for Thorin. Balin was the first to really take interest with his king and his actions with the young woman. His constant hovering when it was nightfall, making sure she had at least two helpings of food and plenty of water, his blanket wrapped around her when everyone was asleep. Especially when it came to training, he made sure she was perfect, yet elegant. Never did Thorin harshly scold her, but gave her pointers and carefully touched her to make sure her stances were strong.
But what made Balin know that Thorin fancied the young lady was after a skirmish with a small Orc pack. Everyone was holding their own and Sisílla was fighting alongside Gandalf and Thorin. But something swept her off her feet, causing her to sprain her ankle. Thorin heard her cry and was able to ward off an orc and the warg it was riding. He immediately ordered those who were close to them to close ranks to protect her with Thorin staying the closest to her. After successfully defeating the orcs and wargs and finding a cave to hunker in for the night, Oín had tended to Sisílla’s injured ankle which was a minor sprain and some herbal tea would help her heal just fine. Thorin had bestowed one of his daggers to her and was able to pass it off as another way to protect herself, when in reality, it was a gift.
Thorin couldn’t fathom the thought of keeping his courting a secret from her. But it also made either easier at the same time. He was conflicted deeply, but he never wanted the thought of being turned away. They were meant to be, she had spoken about her dreams. Though not in great detail, he knew it was he she was dreaming of. But as they traveled farther, the less he could continue his traditional courting and had to make sure she was safe. As they traveled through gorges, Bilbo was sent to scout the area before them as it was an early morning. Thorin , Gandalf, Sisílla and the rest of the company awaited at the bottom as Orc packs were close by. Sisílla had a vision that they were not far and had awoken Thorin about it hence why the sun had barely kissed the sky with its warm rays. Sisílla had stuck close to Thorin, much to his pleasure, as they awaited for Bilbo to come back down.
Sisílla felt a hard chill run down her spine as something was coming to pass. Grasping Thorin’s shoulder, he glanced up to see her brows knitted tight as she looked distressed. Although he was concerned for his men, Sisílla was his top priority.
“What is it?” He asked, his voice low to not gain any attention from the others.
She shook her head, clearing her mind of the fog that was creeping from the depths of her consciousness. “I’m not sure. We mustn’t fall behind.”
“You are not well, my lady.” He chastised.
“I’m alright. Honest. If anything more happens, I promise to rest if need be.” She reassured, her silver gray eyes gazing past Thorin.
Although he was worried for her well-being, he knew that she was determined. With a slight nod, he grasped her hand in his own and quickly pressed his forehead against her own.
“Stay by my side.” Thorin said quickly, but softly.
He never wanted to sound desperate or beg, but his heart thundered in his chest for her safety. As they caught up with the rest of the company, they all met up with Bilbo who was looking as if he had seen a ghost, or a monster that was far more treacherous than the Dragon that they were aiming to slay.
“We have to leave.” Bilbo huffed.
“Were you seen?” Gandalf asked, worried that the hobbit may have been spotted by Azog.
Shaking his head, Bilbo confirmed that he was well hidden and bringing much relief to the company. But as Gandalf began to praise Bilbo of his quick and quiet scouting and being burglar material.
“No, no! I am trying to tell you. There is something out there.” The hobbit explained.
Gandalf’s cheery mood turned serious as he believed in the hobbit. “What form did it take? Like a bear?”
Everyone looked at Gandalf, as if he knew. And when Bilbo confirmed the wizards assumption, everyone began to try and think of a way to get away from this beast and the pack of orcs which were not far from them and the Company. Thorin grasped Sisílla’s hand tighter just in case they were needing to run. He could feel her pulse jump against his hand which only made him pull her closer to his side.
“There is a house, not far from here. Where we could take refuge.” Gandalf spoke, gaining everyone’s attention.
“Whose house? Are they friend or foe?” Thorin asked, already tired of these games and frustrated at their predicament.
“Neither. He will either help us… or kill us.” The wizard explained and casted his gaze to Sisílla who’s brows furrowed at his words.
Gandalf could only hope that their host would spare her life.
Thorin wasn’t going to take that chance, not for Sisílla, and most certainly not for his companions. “What choice do we have!?”
As if on cue, a large growl like howl rang through the twilight morning air making everyone but Gandalf jump and try to look around for the source of the sound. It wasn’t long until they were running down to the valleys and forest below. Gandalf led the way, the company in tow and Sisílla staying in the middle of everyone. Fíli and Kíli were constantly flanking her, nudging and guiding her as they ran for shelter. Thorin had made rounds, running alongside his fellow men to make sure no one was being left behind. Suddenly, Sisílla had tripped on an upturned root, causing her to fall and roll down a steep slope which had several of the dwarves chasing after her, checking her over before getting her back to her feet. Dwalin and Bofur, and Dori behind her, were guiding her as they finally got out of the cover of the forest and out into the open fields to where a house awaited them.
Thorin had finally caught up with Sisílla and grasped her hand, now dragging her to safety as the rest of the company took charge. Getting closer and closer, the sound of a large and monstrous creature made everyone scramble to get the doors opened.
“Open the door!” Gandalf ordered as he came running in last.
Thorin looked behind him and saw the beast and pushed Sisílla behind him, Orcist in hand and getting her to the door first. He unlatched the doors where everyone rushed in. Sisílla ran a few steps away so everyone could file in before spinning on her heels and unsheathing her sword and dagger. The sound of the beast snarling and growling hit her ears, causing her to shudder where she stood as the Company worked together to get the door closed. Her heart was pounding in her head, causing her to get slightly dizzy from the adrenaline and fear coursing through her veins that she failed to hear that the beast was Beorn, the Skinchanger and their host. Though the Company were fearful that this Beorn would find a way to kill them, they all took advantage to collect themselves, recover and rest. Sisílla had sheathed her sword and dagger and walked over to Gandalf who was looking out to the yard where the great door still stayed open to the large field that they had just ran across not too long ago.
As she felt the wall from her outstretched hand, she leaned her back against the wall and let out an exhausted sigh. “What are we to do now? You know that we are close to darkness that even I cannot foresee.”
With his pipe out, he let out an approving and low hum before igniting the pipeweed and taking a few short puffs to start the slow burning. “We need safe passage through Mirkwood. To take the Elven road for safe passage.”
“Is it the only way? Couldn’t we take them down to the outskirts of Rohan and follow up river to-”
“My lady, we don’t have much time. Durin’s Day is only a week away, at best.” Gandalf interrupted.
Her eyes, though unfocused, casted down to the hay covered floor below. Time was short, and to see that they were nowhere close to the mountain meant that the prophecy was going to fail. Gandalf seemed to have taken notice at her sudden sullen appearance. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gave her a warm smile that even she couldn’t help but return one, albeit a smaller version.
“We will make it, my lady. Now, rest up and have something to eat. We are safe for the night.” He said before waving Bilbo over.
“Is everything alright?” The hobbit asked as he made his way over to them.
Sisílla reached over to him and felt his small hand guide her hand to his shoulder. “Could you walk me back to the others, please?”
“Of course, right this way.” Bilbo piped as he was very careful in explaining every little detail of where she was walking.
It didn’t take much until both Bilbo and Sisílla were discussing crocheting and their favorite pastime. Reading. Everyone made rounds to check on the perimeter in and around the home before they could settle for the day. Thorin, of course, made sure that Sisílla was well, hydrated and given the first serving before everyone else. As the sun began to set over the trees, most of the Company were in good spirits. Although quiet, they felt more secure than being out in the wilderness for the moment. They were singing an old shanty in Khuzdul, the dwarven language, and dancing with Sisílla. For a blind girl, she followed with such grace and elegance. Barefoot and feeling the thump, thump, thump of her companions stomping a beat to the soft hay covered floor, it was a merry time for everyone. Thorin, sitting with Balin and Gandalf, watched with a small smirk as she danced with laughter and song filling the air. How her hair, once in a tight braid, now free from its binds and flowing like liquid silver and starlight. Her sight less eyes gleaming with joy, and a smile that took his breath away each and every moment. Balin smiled at the young king, almost proud like a father would be with his son, that Thorin had finally met his One and had her with him during the journey.
As the Company finally let Sisílla rest and laughed at how Nori looked like “a flapping trout out of the creek,” Thorin rose from his spot, his pipe nestled between his lips as he grabbed his water skin and walked over to Sisílla who was sitting on a large pile of hay. As he made his way over to her, he knew that it had to be tonight for another moment of real relaxation and not fearing of orc packs was becoming much more scarce. As he approached her, he cleared his throat causing Sisílla to smile and turn her head to face his general direction.
“My king… why aren’t you enjoying these festivities?” She asked, reaching out instinctively to grab his arm or hand.
Clever girl she was, always ready to be on the move and her head figuratively on a swivel. Thorin smiled a little wider before guiding her hand to his water skin. “I am.” He said. “But you looked parched from the dancing. I must say, you have my utmost respect for your grace and light feet.”
A bright blush blossomed to her already flushed cheeks as she grasped the skin and plucked the cap off before taking a couple sips of water. And she had noticed since then. His compliments, how he was making sure she was cared for and tended to, made sure she had privacy monthly and when they all had a chance to properly bathe. Wherever she was, he was close by. Like a shadow to the naked eye, but for her like a shield that she couldn’t go without. He was her oaken shield. The names that he called her. Ghivashel, badgûna, and his favorite when they were alone at night when everyone was asleep but them, amrâlimê. She had asked him many times what they meant only to receive gentle reassurance that they are nothing ill-will towards her. But high praises.
Thorin couldn’t help but be marveled by her innocence and beauty once again, being captivated in her eyes and smile. But both seemed to have jumped slightly as the company howled with laughter after Bofur and Kíli had apparently played a joke on Dori. Clearing his throat once again, he leaned close to her and whispered as he didn’t want any prying ears to listen to them.
“May I take you for a stroll? I have not kept my end of our promise.” He asked and pulled away to see her smiling brightly.
Raising her hand to him, Thorin happily helped her to her feet and escorted her to the gardens that encircled the rather large house that they took refuge in. The sun had all but set and the beautiful hues of blues and violets danced with the twinkling stars in the night sky. The cool air was a relief compared to the warmth inside, and the sounds of the crickets and distant woodland creatures was peaceful compared to wargs and the bear-like beast. Thorin began to explain the land to Sisílla before seating her on a small stump. He stood beside her, facing the beautiful moon that hung low in the sky. Tonight had to be perfect for this moment. As quietly as he could, he slipped his hand into his coat to retrieve something that he made when he was a young lad and could swing a hammer in the forge. Feeling the cold little piece of metal and grasping it snug in his palm, Thorin took a deep breath to calm his nerves and his speeding heart. As he opened his mouth to speak, Sisílla spoke.
“May I ask you something, Thorin?”
“Anything, milady.” He responded. “What troubles you?”
“These names you give me, I never hear you speak about them to your nephews, nor your men.” Sisílla started.
With a thick gulp, Thorin felt like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar when he was a pebble. But she continued.
“I know that they mean a type of endearment. I heard them before we met in my dreams. Amrâlimê, you have called me that name time and time again. And I want to know what it means.” She stated. Although her voice was steady and even, he knew that she was frustrated. And rightfully so.
With a gentle sigh, Thorin nodded and took a breath. This was much more difficult than he anticipated. But he had to.
“It means ‘my love.’ A very sacred endearment amongst my people towards our One. Our soulmate. Someone that I… I have met ever since stepping into Rivendell and even before that.” Thorin stated.
“Thorin…”
“Please, my lady.” Thorin exhaled. “For many years, I have never thought that I, myself… would ever find my One. But I was deeply mistaken. Mahal, I believed, cursed me with many dreams of a woman in silver and white. Not of any dwarven kingdom, but of men. I knew she could never see me, but with her breathtaking smile and her eyes far more precious than the White Gems of Lasgalen, I was taken. Mahal blessed me, night after night, dreams of my badgûna. Showing me a little more of her. And soon I found out, it was you.”
“I knew it, I could feel not only in my bones, but my heart. No other woman has ever set my heart ablaze when I saw you descending those stairs back in Rivendell. I never knew that I would have fallen for such a deity. An Oracle. And when we had to leave, I wanted you to come. Be selfish and take you to Erebor. But I was fearful that you would be taken or harmed in a way I could never protect you from. And now… You’re here. A brave warrior, a woman that I have grown the most respect for. One that I want to grow old with and a woman who has captivated me, mind, heart, and soul. And so, I wish…”
Thorin froze, looking at her and locking her eyes with his. The bead in hand, in his clammy hand. He shook his head to shake off the nerves and fear of rejection. What will happen, will happen. Reaching out, Thorin grasped her hand in his and brought it to his lips where he left a soft and warm kiss. A soft gasp emitted from Sisílla which made Thorin glance through his lashes to see a pretty blush dusting her cheeks and a shy smile adorning her lips. Guiding her hand, Thorin pressed her palm to his bearded cheek and leaned down to rest his forehead against her own; resting a hand on her soft cheek and embracing this tender and intimate moment. Sisílla’s eyes fluttered closed and her smile grew wider with glee.
“Will you accept me for who I am and allow me to court you, my lady?” Thorin asked, almost in a whisper as if his words would be taken by a breeze and spread across the land.
Nodding her head, Sisílla smiled. “It would be my honor, my king.”
If only she could see how bright and big his smile was. He knew she could feel his cheeks shifting from his smile, but he wanted for her to see his smile. But his thoughts were cut short when he felt her lips press lightly on his cheek. It was the first time she showed affection to him, at least this intimate. And it made his own heart soar. Leaning closer, he brushed his nose across her cheekbone before pressing a soft kiss to her own cheek and pulled away to smile down at her. Sisílla smiled back and giggled before following the length of his arm down to his hands where he captured and held them snug in his larger ones.
“What now?” She asked, a little lost as she had never been courted and knew of only the courting rituals of Elven culture.
“Now, if you would allow, may I braid my courting brain and bead?” He asked.
With a small nod from her, Thorin smiled and sat next to her on the small stump and ran his fingers through her silvery white hair. It was like fine silk threads between his calloused fingers, something he was going to treasure greatly. His fingers parted a few sections of hair and he began the braid. Silence and patience, Throin was nimble but steady with his braid. He knew that the Company would know. They all probably know that they are missing. But it didn’t matter, he was with his One and fulfilling a great task to court the Oracle and his one love. As he came to the end of her hair where he could no longer braid, he slid the bead on and anchored it in place before laying her braid over her shoulder.
Sisílla instantly ran her fingers across the plaited hair and could feel the intricate four stranded braid and at the end, a small but intricate bead holding it in place. His fingers carded through her soft strands once more, making her lean into his touch and hum in such content. Thorin smiled broadly and leaned over to press a kiss to her temple gently before standing and gently helping her to her feet. Looping her arm with his, they strolled through the garden side by side with such euphoria and a new found love. As they made their way around, Dwalin shimmied from his perch near one of the small windows and was grinning from ear to ear. Making his way back to the others, Bofur was the first to rush to the old dwarf.
“What is it? Did they make it official?!” The dwarf asked.
Balin nodded a firm nod. “Aye, Thorin has his One, and his future Queen.”
The entire company roared with joy and celebration. So much so that Thorin and Sisílla stopped their stroll and looked towards the house. Tilting her head to try and listen with no avail, Thorin chuckled as he knew that his men found out. With reassurance that it was nothing serious and to be merry, both Thorin and Sisílla walked in only to be congratulated by everyone of the courtship.
“there was something vaguely alluring about him, an animal magnetism of sorts" Oh this brought all kinds of delightful images to mind. And the ending perfected that.
I’m very glad it did! The poor hobbit princess won’t know what hit her ;)
Sometimes I think about how the Mithril shirt Thorin gave to Bilbo was described as something a ‘young elven prince’ would wear
And I just can’t get this image out of my head of Frodo rocking up to Rivendell in that same shirt and Legolas just looking at him like blink blink “why is this small one wearing my bar mitzvah tunic as armor”
So, I’m still thinking about Aulë and the creation of the Dwarves, and how this makes them such softer creatures in my eyes.
When the Dwarves sing the Song of the Lonely Mountain to Bilbo in The Hobbit, their voices are described as “deep-throated singing of the dwarves in the deep places of their ancient homes,” and furthermore Tolkien adds the addendum, “this is like a fragment of their song, if it can be like their song without the music.”
In this instance, we see an initial, subtle example of the immense power Music and Song has over Middle Earth (as at the time of publication, of course, The Silmarillion had not been published and the audience did not know of Eru’s composition, nor the great Music).
I absolutely adore this description of the Dwarves’ voices though, as it ultimately reflects the feeling behind their music and also their origin being made after Aulë’s own passion and hands.
Despite the song being so hardy, devoted and most of all mourning,the Dwarves play gentle instruments like harps and flutes. Despite how they work with their hands and are often those to cut down trees and - in Yavanna’s sentiment - have no disregard for the living things of nature, Aulë’s influence of being beautifulabove even a craftsman is very much present. The Dwarves value precious jewels and heirlooms and crafts, and treat their heritage as such.
