In Time

Chapter Eleven

Amara stood out on the colonnade, staring out as a light rain fell across Rivendell. The air felt cooler than normal, the leaves on the trees were bright green and shiny, and she didn't hear the footsteps until Gandalf leaned against the railing beside her. "The rain is peaceful, isn't it?"

She looked up at him. He was far taller than even Elrond, and his hair and beard both fluttered on the damp breeze. "It is. I always like to think of it as the world being washed clean, even if only for a moment."

"Does Thorin still wish to avoid all connected with Erebor and the battle?"

"He's... had a bit of difficulty with things that happened prior to the battle."

Gandalf nodded. "The halfling. Yes, they had a bit of a falling out."

"Thorin thinks he betrayed Mr. Baggins, but won't accept that the halfling has forgiven him. He feels it was simply because Mr. Baggins thought him mortally wounded that he said he had, to put Thorin's mind at ease."

"Did he tell you what happened?"

She nodded. "More or less, I believe. But there is something he isn't telling and I think that whatever it is, it weighs heavily on his mind."

The winds shifted, blowing the light rain toward them now, but she didn't mind. It was cool against her cheeks, sweet on her lips, and she let her eyes close briefly before adding, "Have the other dwarves arrived yet?"

"Late last evening, yes. They are anxious to see how Thorin fares. From what I understand, they've already been to see Fili and Kili."

"He will not see them." She looked over at him, hoping to see something in Gandalf's expression that might give her an explanation for why Thorin refused to see his kin still. But, the wizard's face remained impassive, as usual. "What happened, that he might continue to refuse to see his friends and his kin?"

"What has he told you?"

"He's spoken of falling ill with dragon sickness and that when Thranduíl tried to bargain a stone for a necklace, Thorin refused to bargain at all and opted for war."

"It was not simply any stone, Miss Amara."

"He called it the Arkenstone, but I'm afraid I don't know what that is."

"That," Gandalf turned toward her, resting an elbow on the railing as the winds shifted once more to blow the rain away from them. But, Amara noticed that the tree branches still bent toward them, and so wondered if the shift was his doing or not, "is the King's Stone. The one who holds the Arkenstone is the one who will unite the dwarf armies. Thorin had good reason for seeking it out, it was only unfortunate he'd gone a bit mad by the time it was found."

"He keeps saying he went mad as well, but I must confess, I cannot picture him as a madman. He's a bit of a temper, for certain, and a sharp tongue at times, but—" The image of him leaning into her the night before, his eyes soft, his lips softer, and his hands gentle on her face, simply did not reconcile with the image he'd painted for her of his battle with dragon sickness—"I find it so difficult to imagine."

"Oh, he tells no lie. I was there. He turned on the hobbit. Attempted to execute him. I'm certain Thorin is not at all proud of his actions, nor am I surprised by his reticence to see the people he feels he betrayed."

"But it was beyond his control."

"Aye, it was," Gandalf nodded, "but dwarves as a whole are proud and Thorin is prouder still. His weakness, as he sees it, is unforgivable."

"But, again, it—"

"Yes, it was beyond his control, but that changes nothing as far as he is concerned." Gandalf's blue eyes narrowed. "Did he tell you what happened at the battle with Azog itself?"