Renacida || Fili x MGIME OC ||

Dale, Erebor

tw: mentions of suicide

I stood next to Bard on his boat as we sailed to Dale. Fili and Kili entertained Tilda, Sigrid and Bain stared forlornly out at the remnants of their still-smoldering town, Oin slept, Bofur whittled to make some toy for Tilda while whistling a jaunty tune, and Tauriel and Legolas muttered in their elven language at the front of the boat.

"So," I said, folding my arms. The lake breeze cut my bruised skin, and the desire to sleep nagged at my focus. "You probably heard the entire conversation with ol' Smaugy and me."

A silence passed, filled with lapping water and the creaking boat. Then, "Aye."

"So, you know the truth about me. That I'm from...a different world."

"Aye."

Bard's breath was as steady.

"You...are not the first I have heard possessing the strange ability of the light." He nodded toward the limp hand at my side, where the droplet remained. I was too afraid of pulling it out now, and I decided that maybe it was best to keep in until the upcoming war passed. "I've heard tales of an Eastern woman bearing a palm containing starlight. It is because of her that we've not had Easterling incursions in decades. She's their queen, so the rumors go, or something of the sort."

"Oh. Yeah."

My thoughts had drifted to her several times after going toe-to-toe with Smaug using the droplet. "Her name's Amelie, I think. That was what Beorn told me. She's possibly from the same world as me. But—I didn't know she was a queen. Or that she calmed the Easterlings. Honestly, I don't know much about them. Just that they're...in the East, and the dwarves had problems with them a long time ago."

("Probably an Easterling," Dwalin lowly spoke to Thorin the third night I came into the Company when they didn't think I'd hear. "You know as well as I that they wish our kin naught but ill."

"Yet what would a lone Easterling be doing this side of the Misty Mountains?" Thorin questioned back. "Surely, word of our journey could not have reached that far."

"Aye, but who can tell what manner of dark sorcery their kind uses to gather secrets on the wind and in the water—"

I snorted, and both dwarves snapped their heads around to glare at me.

"No, not an Easterling," I said, fighting the hurt and anger. The Company tensed and quieted. "Just brown. Sorry."

Surprisingly, Thorin and Dwalin stiffened with something akin to shame. The Company shifted in visible discomfort. Bilbo watched it all, lost at the implications but worried nonetheless.

"Forgive them, Valeria," said Gandalf after he sent the two a disappointed look. "Their inane chattering casts a poor perspective on their scruples, but you needn't worry. For all their...deficiencies, the dwarves do not differentiate between the color of one's skin."

Beside me, Bilbo inhaled a soft breath.

But my mouth didn't untwist. "How nice—glad to know that it's just because I'm human."

Homesickness choked me, and I the last thing I saw before I turned away to sleep on the cold ground was Gandalf puffing angry pipe smoke with his own frown directed at Thorin, Thorin stoically regarding me, and Bilbo nervously chewing on his lower lip.)

"Perhaps you will meet her," said Bard. "I hear she does not age. It is possible that neither will you."

Well.

Fuck.

I pulled my coat tighter around me. My knuckles were swollen and stiff, and the stich work on my upper back throbbed in reminder of how Smaug could have easily carved me in two.