How I Leave You

Home At Last

The grotto is exactly as I remember. Every bit as beautiful as it was when I left it. In here, the gemstones always shine a warm light, regardless of whether autumn is fading.

But peace does not last long, for in the next instance, another flash of pain blinds me. No, not pain. Contractions. If it is going to be the death of me, I might as well call it what it is. Suddenly, it becomes hard to stay afloat.

I have to get out of the water.

And yet I can't. Even if I place my palms against the hard stone of the ground, I do not have the strength to pull myself up. Not anymore.

"Ilwien?"

In a haze, I turn around at the sound of my name. Perhaps my agony is making me hallucinate.

"Can it be...?"

There it was again, that voice. I swear I just heard it speak. But in my blurry vision, I can only make out the lights reflecting off the surface of the pools.

Until I catch something moving in the corner of my eye. Confused, my head turns in that direction, but everything is spinning, and my muscles burn so badly I fear I somehow have caught on fire.

A murky figure makes its way towards me. It could be Bolg for all I care. At least his bloodaxe would put me out of my misery.

Someone bends down in front of me. I'm splayed across the poolside, my arms crossed underneath my head, which pounds so badly I'm almost certain I'll throw up.

"Who are you?" I manage to get out.

But then another contraction rolls through me, and the next sound that leaves me is a yelp. It does not take the pain away. It only relays it.

"It's me."

Someone grabs me, trying to get me to look up, but my vision is hazy, and I do not really see anything at all.

"You came back," they continue, wiping my wet hair away from my face. "But you're hurt?"

I try to shake my head, try to say that I'm not hurt, only hurting, but it gets lost in translation.

You have to get it together now, Ilwien.

Remember what Bilbo said. You made it this far, but you're not done yet.

Go a little further. Push a little harder.

With what I have left in me, I focus my gaze, letting my head tilt backwards so I can look up at the person towering over me.

At Thorin.

My eyes go wide when they meet his. And he looks at me so lovingly, his eyes shining with such affection that I'm afraid I might break in two.

"You came back for me." He holds my cheek in his hand. "...And you're still wearing the braids. The beads... you did not take them out."

I let myself lean into his touch. Close my eyes. Rest, if only for a moment. Just until the next wave of pain.

My face contracts when it hits me. With a cry, I pull away from him, away from his hand and its warmth and his love.

For he does not know. Unless someone else shared the news, he does not know that I'm carrying his child. That I have been for so long I'm all but certain I will die from it.

"What happened?" he says, his face filled with alarm. "How are you hurt? Talk to me, Ilwien. Tell me how to help you. Tell me..."

But when I retreat to the other side of the spring, when I lean against its edge and give him a full view of my body, he cuts himself off.