Warrior's Heart

Chapter Two

Six Months Later, Mirkwood...

"Mama?"

Arielle smiled as Tiriana looked up from her artwork, her blue eyes bright, her black hair falling in loose ringlets about her face. Like most elves, she spoke early, and since her first birthday two weeks earlier, she had been chatting up a storm.

"What is that, love?" Arielle sank into the small chair alongside her daughter. They were in Tiriana's chambers, which were open and airy, and allowed sunlight to filter down through the treetops.

"Papa." Tiriana held up the sketch and Arielle's throat tightened at the delicate lines and details that brought Thorin's face to life on the somewhat wrinkled sheet of parchment. On the table, lay the portrait of Thorin that Arielle left on Tiriana's bedside table.

"It's very good, sweet." Arielle squeezed her eyes shut as she pressed a kiss into the top of Tiriana's head. "He will be amazed when he returns and see how much you've grown and what you've learned to do."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When will he come home?"

Arielle let out a soft sigh. "I don't know, love. I thought he would have by now. Something must have delayed him."

Tiriana leaned her head against Arielle's shoulder. "Tell me about him, Mama?"

She sighed softly and stood to scoop Tiriana from her chair. "What do you want to know about him, princess?"

"All the things."

"All the things. That is a lot." She moved to the window seat and sank into it, Tiriana snuggled against her. "Your father is the bravest of warriors, you know. I've seen him take on the nastiest of Orcs and slay them without breaking a sweat. He is handsome and strong, with long, wavy black hair and blue eyes."

"Like me!"

"Yes, love. Just like you." She gave Tiriana a squeeze. "And I met him because of his kindness. He helped me and we went on this grand adventure that ended with us being married right here, by Afi Thranduíl. And not long after, you came along and papa would tell you the most amazing stories every night. He spoke to you when you were still in my belly so that by the time you arrived, you knew his voice."

Her eyes stung. She missed Thorin more than she thought she could ever miss anyone. The last she'd heard from him was almost six months earlier, when he'd sent word that he'd arrived in the Iron Hills (without naming his locations, of course, since there was a price on his head) and was meeting with his cousin.

But that was it. And on the rare occasions when Gandalf came to call, all he would say was that the Company had fetched their burglar and had started out for their next destination, but would not say where that destination might lie. She understood, of course. Azog the Defiler had placed a bounty on Thorin's head, so Gandalf would not expose their location, wherever it might be.

And although she tried not to worry, it was an impossible task. She had expected them to be apart for a matter of weeks, not months, and she had fully believed he would have been there for their daughter's first birthday at the end of the winter. That he missed it stung.

Tiriana thrived in Mirkwood, under her grandfather's watchful and somewhat spoiling eye. Arielle had been pleasantly surprised by her father's reaction to his half-dwarf granddaughter and he had stepped up to make certain Tiriana knew she was welcome in Mirkwood.

"What stories did he tell me?"

"Everything from the history of his ancestors to wonderful flights of fancy that came solely from his imagination."