The Halls of Erebor

A Song

Frin hummed the now intimate melody to herself. The deep tenor of the notes rumbling through her chest. The song was birthed in the mountains but words came to her as she walked, traveled and grieved.

They were only a few hours away from the Iron Hills, the long trek had been relatively uneventful, except for the occasional bout of bad weather. Despite the fact that her life would once again change upon entering the dwarven kingdom she was thankful for the journey. Thorin seemed to have more purpose, a sense of direction. He was calmer and even more jovial. Their evenings on the road were always pleasant. They didn't fight or argue. For the first time in years they were able to enjoy each other's company. It was as though she was getting a glimpse of who Thorin used to be and perhaps still could be.

During the day, they would walk and talk. One time they had an in depth discussion on how best to kill an orc. Frin still thought her answer was the best, as fast as possible. The mundane conversations were amazing. Frin felt like herself for the first time in years.

"Everyone I have ever met has just let it grow." He said. "I didn't realize I would continually need to cut it."

"If you find it's too much work, you can always let it grow." Frin offered.

"You know why I want it short." He gave her a slightly frown. "However, it is very useful when in the forge. Sparks don't get caught in it."

Frin made a face, realizing she'd never thought of the problems a beard could cause. "Good point." She gave him a smile while leaning in closely to him as they walked. "Besides, I like your beard as it is now." Her hand gently grazed the hair on his chin.

Contently silent they continued on. The winding forest road was nearing its end and their destination. The journey was completely different from the previous times she had come by this road. The first was in desperation, driven by the need to survive. The second was also fuelled by desperation but it had been hopeful, full of purpose. Now, it was calm. There was a slight resignation in the air as they headed towards an unknown future.

"What is that you keep humming?" Thorin asked her.

"I'm not sure." Frin smiled to herself. "It came to me in the mountains and has stayed with me since."

"Are there words?" He looked at her with a genuine curiosity.

"Some," she shrugged but he waited expectantly. So, with a steadying breath she sang the few words she had.

"Far over, the misty mountains cold,

to Dungeons deep and caverns old.

We must away ere break of day,

to find our long forgotten home."

She hummed the melody once the words ran out. It was the first time she sang the song in front of someone. It felt nice. When her humming faded, too unsure to continue, Thorin's voice caught her by surprise.

First he hummed the melody, carefully trying to remember each note. His eyes watched the path they walked on but he was clearly concentrating. After repeating it a few times, he sang the words. When she sang them she remembered the love and home she once had and still longed for. The blissfulness of their relationship, the simplicity before everything became complicated. Though when he sang, the deep rumble of his voice combined with the words was mournful, full of longing and despair.

She couldn't help but wonder what he mourned for, his brother perhaps, or home. That she could understand but yet she feared he wished for other things. Her mind lingered on that beautiful dwarf-woman, his betrothed. Did he mourn for her? The thought pierced her heart encouraged by the sad melody flowing from his mouth.

When he stopped singing her sad inflection, tears stained her face. He too was affected by the song. His blue eyes glistened in the daylight. In silence they continued until she finally composed herself, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"What do you think?" She asked softly.

He didn't answer immediately instead trudged forward voiceless. Eventually, he replied. "I will never forget it." He turned towards her, sad eyes locking onto hers. "One day, I will head home, and those words will linger in my mind with your voice."

"When that day comes I will be at your side." She said confidently, but when his face turned from her's with a short nod her confidence waned. He didn't see her with him when he entered the mountain again. She could see it on his face in the distant gaze.

A new kind of sadness filled her, a new fear added to the others. Either she would never see the emerald halls or he wouldn't allow her. She feared the latter. If she died in battle that would be fine. If she died through sickness; she'd be content with it. If he sent her away, banished her from his presence, she didn't know how she would cope.

In the steady pace of their march, Frin tried to find reason. If she had to leave him, she would be fine. She had lived without him before and could do it again. A small voice in her mind reminded her of the last time. When he was betrothed, Frin had fallen apart. She stopped eating and didn't care about anything.

The memory of her former self was enough to discourage her. Stealing a glance at Thorin she saw the same hardened face she was accustomed to, focused on the road. Her eyes ventured back to the ground before her.

Before her the forest was thinning. She recognized the signs, the trees, the curve of the land. They were close, perhaps only an hour away from the gates to the Iron Hills. The despair which had settled into her, reminded her that she only had an hour left until he would be more distant.

"Thorin." When she said his name her voice was unsteady. The moment his blue eyes met hers she felt overcome with emotion. "I just wanted you to know before we return..." she paused trying to collect her thoughts. "I know the past few years have been hard and we failed so many times but I am glad to have spent them with you."

She couldn't help but feel like things were changing too quickly. For her, it felt as though she would soon be cast aside, discarded. The only person she had in the world was him and soon he would be bound by duty and family.

Thorin didn't speak, but his hand touched hers, holding it as they moved forward. When the gates of the dwarven city came into view, he let her go. It wasn't surprising but Frin couldn't help but feel the pang of grief.

The city was different from when they left. The streets were very crowded but the atmosphere seemed happy and hopeful. Children were laughing and racing through the crowds. Small stalls lined the passage ways sending sweet smells and vibrant colours into the air. It was pleasantly beautiful.

Following Thorin through the city, she soon found herself outside of the same impressive building as she had a few years prior. Once inside, Thorin was immediately greeted by his Father, Thrain who embraced him tightly. The older dwarf's hair had grown lighter, streaks of grey highlighting the dark hair.

"Welcome son!" He said, smiling widely. "Still keeping it short?" He gestured towards the beard. Thorin just shrugged. "How was your journey?"

"Uneventful."

"Good, we have much to tell you." Thrain patted his son on his back before turning his attention to Frin who stood behind Thorin. The wide smile given to his son faded. "Frin, welcome."

"My Lord," Frin bowed her head, remembering the proper edicate.

"A room has been made for you in the barracks." He stated, motioning for her to leave.

With a quick glance at Thorin's back, she began to take her leave. Just as she was about to disappear into the street she saw Thrain smiling again with an arm wrapped around Thorin. The sound of joyful laughter reached her ears. The jealousy rose involuntarily in her as she left the grand house.

On the street she stopped. The denizens of the city rushed around her as she stood still, suddenly alone. Slightly numb, she contemplated heading to a tavern to drown her sorrows but she gave her word.

So, with apprehension she headed towards the barracks. Like most dwarvish cities the soldiers and guards were housed down by the gate. As she grew closer she saw familiar yet different dwarven soldiers. The similar angular armour reminded her of Erebor but the craftsmanship could only belong to those from the Iron Hills. With a deep breath she approached the central building feeling entirely alone.