Elves, humans, and a wizard gathered on the northern edge of Dale, drawn first to the light that burst from the front of the Lonely Mountain. In the cold winter morning, they watched thirteen dwarves and a hobbit walk the road from Erebor to the ruins. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield formed a procession, heads bowed, steps muffled.
Thorin led them. In his arms was a brown-skinned woman. Her head lolled back, and an arm hung limp.
They crossed the threshold of Dale's decrepit gates. The people of Lake-town did not part for the Company; they parted for the woman who saved them from Smaug's destruction. The woman with blood stained on her unsmiling lips.
A few soft cries came from the Lakemen, one of them Tilda's as Bain and Sigrid kept her tightly between them, both silently weeping.
The elven army did not part for the Company. They stood at the ready behind the King Thranduil, the crownless King Bard, and the wizard Gandalf the Grey.
Manwë hid the sun behind a veil of endless clouds, casting a dim pallor over Arda.
Thorin did not meet the gazes of his judges. The heir of Durin had been laid low, and his shame bade him to lower himself further before those he once thought himself superior to.
He was, after all, no king.
Thranduil examined him, cold yet curious. Bard burned with fury and grief as he looked upon both the dwarf and the woman in his arms. Gandalf muttered inaudible words under his breath as a different, older kind of grief overcame him.
"You will have your peace," Thorin said to them, voice hoarse and on the verge of broken despair. "You will have anything you ask. But please. Let us lay her somewhere sheltered from the cold."
Several moments of silent, tense exchanges passed between Thranduil and Bard. Then the elf king inclined his head in the semblance of a nod. He regarded the woman as though he searched for something in her still features.
The first death had come to Dale.
Dale, however, would find it impermanent for the woman who held starlight in her hand.
-
I awoke to the sense that my time in Middle-earth was near an end.
Slowly, the trails of some forgotten dream slipped from my stirring consciousness. Memories returned to me, linking the view of a fine canvas tent to that of a mountain, a mountain where my life fled through the gaping wound of a dwarven sword.
"Oh, my dear Valeria," a low voice rumbled gently. "You have experienced more peril than the contract you signed stated."
Blood cracking on my skin, I shifted my head to the side and met the kind gaze of Gandalf the Grey, whose eyes were etched with a care so deep that it transcended mortality.
He smiled a smile that I had missed.
I burst into tears.
"Gandalf," I sobbed. The wizard leaned forward and took my hand. Concern and sorrow mingled with his love. I shook my head back and forth despite the spiking pain, unable to convey all the things I barely understood in my state. "It's—I can't—I can't—"
"There, there. It's alright. You are not expected to bear such burdens unflinchingly."
I lifted an arm over my eyes, too emotional to respond. Electric shocks accompanied each ragged gasp of breath. The pain was worth screaming over, except I had no strength to do anything but cry.
"But the weakness you believe yourself to bear is truly incredible strength," Gandalf went on with quiet passion. "Strength that shines bright, even in dark hours. You must believe me, Valeria. I have crossed the paths of ages and ages of Men, and rarely has there been a soul like yours."
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Renacida || Fili x MGIME OC ||
Fanfic[Fili x OC] Bilbo finds kinship with her. They're both so very far from home. He doesn't realize just how far away she is. [available under the same name on ao3]
