The Halls of Erebor

The Iron Hills

Sitting alone in the darkness, she stared at the dying flames before her. The weight of her guilt rooted her to the dirt, preventing her from moving or sleeping. The remaining taste of meat lingered on her tongue but the guilt that plagued her was different. A new layer of pain laying over another.

Hoping to shut herself off from the world and her mind, she squeezed her eyes closed. The light of the fire before her disappeared, becoming only a mild warmth on her face. For a moment there was nothing, just darkness, warmth and cold.

Through the peace came a face. Her friend is smiling at her on a city's wall, then a burning hot breeze. There laying dead staring at her was Dova. Her face was a terrible reminder of what she did. Her death was on Frin's shoulders. She'd made her leave her post, venture towards the gate. When the dragon entered the mountain she wouldn't have been crushed by the crumbling stone if it wasn't for her. Her face, empty and distant was her burden, her doing.

She threw a stone angrily into the forest before her. Silent tears burned against her cheeks. For the first time in a while, she was completely alone with her own thoughts. It was horrifying. Before there were always people around her offering support and solutions. This was no longer her reality. Those people felt long gone, a part of a different life most left to die.

Eventually, Frin fell asleep when her eyes were too heavy and body too exhausted. The light faded to darkness and then to light once more. The stinging chill of the morning air, not yet warmed by the sun, stung her exposed skin. Deciding it was best to get moving rather than starting another fire, Frin picked herself up, sword in hand and headed out.

She continued to follow alongside the road, keeping an eye out for prey as she went. Unlike the day before, she stopped waiting for Thorin. Perhaps it was the solitude or the guilt she carried. Surely, if he saw her he'd see her shame and guilt. He would know her sins.

Every time she made a kill it was hung in a suitable tree. One that arched over the road, unable to be missed. In the evening, she ate, lamented then slept.

Dreams of her parents entered into her mind. Images of their last days together played before her sleeping mind. The memories faded into dreams, deepest desires which could be tangible. Frin chased after the dragon, pulling them from the rubble. Now, they were on this journey together, to find a new home. When she awoke, she was alone and hopeless.

The following days became repetitive. During the day, she stayed alone, hunted then slept. At night she would dream of a different life. Sometimes she and Dova would journey across the Misty Mountains, or she'd wander the gardens of Rivendell with her Mother.

It wasn't until she came upon the open valley leading to the visible gates to the Iron Hills, when her deep sorrow lifted slightly. With a view of the far off dwarf kingdom, Frin leaned against a tree and waited, allowing herself to no longer be alone.

From her belt hung a couple of rabbits freshly killed and cleaned. She originally planned to hang them from a tree but seeing the nearby city she elected to keep them. In her hand she held a few mushrooms found along the forest floor. Using the edge of her sword, balanced between her legs, she peeled the rough flesh from the small mushrooms and began to eat their soft centres.

After a few hours had passed, the gradual rumble of a crowd came closer. When the sound of familiar horse hooves became clearly audible, she glanced behind her up the road. Before her she saw Thorin leading a horse and cart forward. The cart itself was laden with people, ordinary people. Thorin walked alongside the horse. She smiled to herself. He heard her.

When she was close enough to see his expression of weariness, she bowed. "My lord, Thorin." She greeted glancing about him for the rest of his family, who all seemed to be absent. "Did you get the food I left along the road?"