How I Leave You

Two Steps Forward

 "We've been walking for days," Bombur complains. "Is there no end in sight?"

He's not wrong, the dwarf. My legs spend every waking moment crying out for a pause, but Thorin is persistent, treading on regardless of how much his company complains.

The first few days, Bilbo entertains us with stories from the Shire. Especially the ones about his young nephew, Frodo, become my favorite. There is so much warmth in them, almost as though Bilbo paints the bleak forest in colors beautiful enough to take our minds off everything, if only just for a moment.

"You must really care for him," I say one day, my eyes on my feet and the path beneath them. "Frodo."

"I do," Bilbo says. "He is not very old yet, but still, I deeply do."

"Hm," I smile, letting myself see the world rose-colored for a blink or two. "Well, I hope to meet him one day."

"Yes," Bilbo says, giving me a smile. "I hope so, too."

"We're walking in circles," Oin blurts out, wildly gesturing to a tree in front of him. "I know this tree."

"That's because that tree looks like every other tree in this Mahal-forsaken place. Keep going. Do not look back."

But Thorin does look back. Briefly, his eyes catch mine, like he's just making sure I'm still here.

Silence falls upon us. I lost track of time long ago. We might have slept once, maybe twice, I'm not sure, but my muscles are growing tired again. I'll need a break soon.

"What was that?" Dwalin says, quick to draw his weapons.

"What was what?"

"That. You didn't hear?"

I tune in my pointy ears. Yes, it's true. Far away, something stirs. A voice. No, voices.

"They're coming closer," Thorin says, unsheathing Orcrist as well.

"No, they're retreating," Kili says. "Come, we must follow them."

I grab onto his collar before he can take more than a step away.

"We must do no such thing. Remember what Gandalf said. We're not supposed to stray from the path."

Kili looks to his uncle for answers.

"She's right," Thorin says, putting his sword back in its sheath. "No more stalling."

If I would have known it would be this easy to bring the dwarven king on my side, I would've fed him my blood sooner.

We pick up where we left off. It's difficult to keep going, especially without knowing how far we have left. I long for water. To submerge myself in it, feel it wrap around my body until my own weightlessness consumes me. Drowns me.

I long for home.

And the worst part is, I'm not even certain I have a place to call home anymore. Azog took that from me.

"You are to blame."

"Huh?"

I look around me, trying to figure out who would say such a thing.

"What?" Bilbo asks, looking puzzled as always.

"Did you not hear that?"

"Were it not for you, they might have lived."

It must be coming from inside my own head. But why, then, does it sound like the voice speaks from all around me?

"Are you alright, Ilwien?" Bilbo asks, his eyebrows extremely furrowed.