How I Leave You

What You Never Told Me

Gandalf.

Of course. That blasted wizard. Yes, he would make an entrance like this.

Around us, the delight of the people is evident, both on their faces and in how they gasp with wonder. I do not blame them. In fact, I almost join them in their admiration.

For these are no regular fireworks. Instead, they light up the sky with colors so bright even I have never seen the likes of before.

"What is that?" Thrór asks, his mouth agape.
When I look at him, I see the bursts reflect in his wide eyes.

"That, my dear prince," an old voice says, "is magic."

I turn around. The sight of the grey robes greets me first.

"Gandalf," my son cries, throwing himself around the neck of the wizard, who gently taps Thrór's back.

"You made it," I smile.

"Welcome to our court," Thorin says, bowing his neck next to me.

But before Gandalf gets to reply to any of this, Soldís sticks her head out from between Thorin and I.

"Do you have any more fireworks?" she asks, her big eyes bright with curiosity.

She has that from her mother.

"Why, yes," Gandalf says, chuckling at her. "But it is a mighty beast with wings so large they could wrap around this mountain."

At this, he sends us a glance.

Smaug.

But Soldís catches on to none of this. Instead, she inhales sharply, frightened, perhaps, of this monster she has never met.

"Can we see it?" Thrór asks, placing himself next to his sister as he tilts his head.

Gandalf chuckles again.

"I think it best we save it for another special occasion," he says, leaning onto his great staff.

The fireworks have died down, and the crowd that assembled to watch is beginning to thin. The river is so beautiful tonight. Only a few clouds are in the sky, whose stars light up the waters.

"That is certainly one way to announce your arrival," Thorin says as we make our way back inside.

The air is cold. It holds the promise of winter gently, as if to merely remind us of its presence.

"I am but an old man," Gandalf says, his staff clanging against the stone floors with every other step. "I know nothing of what you speak."

I see the smile glimmer in his eyes. We enter the throne room again, where a feast has appeared in our absence.

"Wow," the children exclaim, hungrily eyeing all the food.

Thorin and I look at each other. I nod at his silent question.

"Go," he says, gently pushing them in the direction of the longtables.

It takes no more than that for them to take off, running towards their seats by the rest of the young ones.

A tad more controlled, Thorin and I take a seat at the end of the tables, nodding for Gandalf to sit next to us. The soon-to-be married couple, both of whom I have seen suspiciously little of all day, sit further down, though the two of them raise their goblets in our direction when they notice us. In Tauriel's beautiful auburn hair, two silver beads, almost identical to mine, are braided in. The only difference is in the inscriptions, but they are forged from the same ore, and have been handed down through many generations of Durin's sons.