How I Leave You

The Lies We Live

 It's possible I have been gone for days.

The cave system beneath Erebor kept me occupied long enough to make me forget about my hunger while I explored. But even my curiosity could not keep me satiated for long, so I decided to return to the underwater grottoes later.

I cannot lie. For a while, the path I was on had Rhûn as its destination. Past Esgaroth, I swam along River Running until I encountered a ship of sailors. Men, all of whom had heard news of the dragon's defeat, and wanted to be among the first to reach Laketown to trade. To try their luck. To return with their pockets full of gold.

One of them would not be making it home.

He did not even make it to Esgaroth.

His flesh was sweet on my tongue, and even if he had been at sea for weeks, his blood was still fresh.

Everything is exactly as I remember it when I breach the surface of one of Erebor's springs again. Of course, I safely deposited the Arkenstone in one of the caves beneath the mountain. Having ridded myself of its burden leaves me feeling lighter.

Happier, perhaps.

Is this what joy looks like? Feels like?

Has it finally been handed to me at the hand of Thorin Oakenshield?

When I start getting dressed, I decide I shall think no such thoughts. Thorin is a king, and a king of dwarves nonetheless. I am the last of my people, destined to rebuild what was taken from us. I will hand him the Arkenstone and leave him to rule in his mountain.

Our fates do not align.

So why do I keep trying to bend them at my will?

There are no worries present in my mind as I make my way up the stairs towards the throne room and the others.

No worries at all until--

The voices of the company reach me, and they are not at all cheerful and merry as I had expected them to be. Instead, their tones warn of war and ruin, and of impending peril great enough to shake the Lonely Mountain itself.

I find Bilbo first. The hobbit is pacing in a hallway, his hands at his mouth like it might help soothe his worries. But by the deepness of the furrow between his brows, I'm doubtful of its success.

"Bilbo," I say, bending down to his height. "What on Middle Earth is going on?"

When he sighs, his breath is heavy with relief. "Oh, thank goodness you're here. It's terrible, Ilwien. The armies, they--"

"Armies? What armies?"

"The ones at our door."

He gestures down another hallway, which presumably leads to an outlook of some sort.

"What?"

"Precisely. And not only is the human army upset, but the elves..."

"The elves are here?"

Bilbo shakes his head in resignation.

"Two armies are already two too many. But at least no more will come than that. Right?"

I send him a look that tells him to close his mouth and keep it like that. Treasure in these amounts would drive any king mad with desire, regardless of what people he might belong to.

"Where is Tauriel?"

When I start walking in the direction of the rest of the company, Bilbo has to run to keep up with my pace.