How I Leave You

The Moon and Her Children

 Thorin has been ignoring me all day.

Not that I'm keeping track of such things, but if I were, I would notice that he has gone to great extents to not as much as look in my direction. But soon the moon will show her face, and when she does, I, too, will accompany Elrond to read her letters. Whether Thorin wants me there or not is his grievance. Not mine.

If I thought Rivendell was beautiful in the daytime, it's only because I did not pay enough attention at night. Tentatively, the moon lights up only the most beautiful parts, and as we near Elrond's room, I start to wonder why I ever left this place to begin with.

"Our business is no concern of elves," Thorin complains, his boots echoing against the walls of the grand room.

Gandalf sighs. "For goodness sakes, spare me from the stubbornness of dwarves."

"This map is the legacy of my people. It's--"

"Just get the map out, Oakenshield."

He turns to me at my interruption.

"You, elf, will not speak to me like--"

"She is right, Thorin. Your pride will be your downfall."

With a thud, the dwarven king places the map on the table in front of us. Elrond enters the room just then, approaching the table.

"Erebor," he says as he starts to inspect the map. "Most interesting. In what is your curiosity with this map?"

"Mainly academic," I cut in, before Thorin might say something that everyone here would regret. "You still read ancient Dwarvish, do you not, Lord Elrond?"

As an answer to my question, Elrond holds the map up to a single ray of moonlight and begins to read.

After the meeting, while on my way back to my room, something catches my attention. Out of the corner of my vision, I see a figure stand, hidden in the shadows of the night. If it wasn't for the eyes of my kind, I would've likely taken the silhouette for a statue. But I notice the way it breathes. Watches.

"Thorin."

"I apologize," he says, stepping into the light. "I did not mean to interrupt your nightly visit to the servant's chambers."

It takes me a moment to understand.
"Fenris? He's no servant, he's--"

Thorin lifts his eyebrows, awaiting what I have to say.

"--none of your business, Oakenshield."

"But he is yours?"

"What's mine does not concern you. I believe you made that quite clear last night."

"Just as I believe you made your allegiances clear as well."

I cross my arms across my chest.

"What are you referring to?"

"There is no use lying to me, elfling. I know where you went after the feast. Who you went with."

"Are you accusing me of sleeping with your enemy? Because, for your information, he is not against you. None of them are. It's all in your head."

"All in my head?" His blue eyes shoot lightning, and his voice is like thunder bolts. "You do not know what happened all those years ago, elf. You do not know what I lost." He huffs. "By Mahal's beard, you do not even know it is to lose. You have never felt any pain beyond that of your own flesh and bones."

"Do not tell me, dwarf, what I have or have not lost. Do not lecture me on pain."

He cannot be more than a thumb from my face now. His breath is hot against my skin.