How I Leave You

Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Forest

The light of day.

The exit of the cave blinds me in its luminosity, and I have to shield my eyes to keep going. The shadow-world of the ring is nothing like the stories they told of it. I knew of its powers before it found its way to my finger. I just didn't know it would make everything seem a hundredfold brighter.

Footsteps.

They're heavy, and coming towards me. Without thinking, I hide behind a rock. But it's not until I feel the stone against my back that I remember I'm invisible.

"This way," an owner of the footsteps shouts.

Behind me, a company runs by.

My company.

They're leaving without me. I want to call out for them to wait, but then I hear something move in the dark.

"Thief," it calls out. "You tooks it."

Aulë be damned, I have to get out unseen, and preferably, I'd like to do so without murdering anyone.

The last dwarf leaves the cave, closely followed by Gandalf who briefly pauses by the exit.

"My precious."

Gandalf turns around at the echo of pain coming from behind me. I almost take the ring off, yell out to him that I'm here, and that they shouldn't leave me, but then I hear it.

Hundreds of feet running towards us.

From the looks of it, Gandalf hears it, too. Before I take another step, he's escaped from the grotto, quickly catching up to the rest of the company.

Leaving me behind.

Right before the herd of goblins emerges from a side passage, I narrowly squeeze through the boulder in front of me, making it into the daylight.

Daylight.

Goblins hate the sun.

As fast as my feet will carry me, I make my way through the foothills, into the outskirts of the forest. But my legs are trembling, still healing from their wounds, and they can't carry me much longer.

Finally, I hear voices.

"...still in there."

"So are they... hundreds of them."

Tentatively, I move closer. The company is standing in a scattered circle, with Thorin and Gandalf in the middle.

"She is long dead by now."

"And what if she isn't?"

Gandalf's voice is full of something. Hope, maybe. Or sorrow. Please, old man, do not grieve for me yet.

"I will not risk the legacy of my people on the slight chance that she survived that fall. Or that, after surviving, she had the strength to pull herself out of the depths of darkness, conquering whichever creatures lurk down there. I will not risk it on hoping that, after all this, she still managed to escape the goblins and find her way out."

In the pit of my stomach, something breaks. The pain spreads like poison.

"But-- but she's Ilwien," Bilbo tries.

"She may be Ilwien, and she may be an elf. Still, we must continue. Cost what it may."

Just as the dwarven king is about to turn around, I take off my ring from behind the tree.

"Good thing I'm no elf, then," I say, stepping into the clearing. "You should know this by now, Oakenshield."

"Ilwien!" Bilbo runs towards me, catching me in an embrace. "Why, you're dripping wet!"