Hiraeth - Thorin Oakenshield

𝐗𝐗𝐕 . 𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥

Mylaela stood in the halls of Erebor, pacing around the tombs which Durin's sons rested on. Her body had gone numb, nearly incapable of producing any more tears. The She-Elf paused in front of Fili's tomb, bowing her head in respect.

"Just one round?" Fili pleaded, spreading his arms out to his side, "What? Afraid you will lose?"

"No, I just do not wish to harm you."

"Bring it on," he taunted, swinging his large blade around in his hand while stepping backward in the grass. Mylaela chuckled, pulling out her father's blade, "You asked for it."

Mylaela readied her stance, preparing for the Dwarf to land his attack. Fili lunged forward, their swords clashing in the air. Mylaela let out a content chuckle as she effortlessly blocked his attacks, "You have to actually try."

Fili let out a huff, his attacks becoming faster, but sloppier. Mylaela continued to block every blow until he began to grow tired.

The She-Elf took the opportunity, sending strikes back to back as he struggled to block them. Mylaela paused, her blade inches from his throat, "Dead."

Fili rolled his eyes, admitting defeat, "I let you win."

"Is that so?" She raised an eyebrow, stepping back, "Then let's go again."

The two spent the rest of daylight sparring with each other, Fili's pride diminishing the more they practiced. In their last round, Mylaela acted as if her blade slipped from her grasp, allowing him to win a single match.

That decision would haunt her for the rest of the journey, as he was convinced he had truly won.

Mylaela took a deep breath before walking past Thorin's tomb, making her way to Kili's. The color drained completely from his face truly pained her to see, instead she kept her eyes glued to the ground.

"Mylaela!" Kili called as they sat in the halls of Erebor, "Could you do me a favor?"

"Depends on the favor," she skeptically answered, "If you ask me to rate your pick up lines for Tauriel again, the answer is no."

"We swore to never speak of that," he hissed, glancing over at a laughing Bofur, "She is just joking."

"Sure I am," Mylaela winked towards Bofur, following Kili into an empty corridor, "So, you're an Elf."

"Correct," she responded, sending him an odd glance, "I do not like where this is heading."

"Could you teach me how to say 'I love you', in Sindarin?"

"Gi melin," Mylaela chuckled, Kili nodding as he attempted to repeat the phrase, "Gee melon."

"No," the She-Elf enunciated her words, "Gi melin. Gi not gee."

"Gi melin," Kili repeated, Mylaela putting a hand over her heart, "Sorry, I'm not interested."

"You little," he hissed before rolling his eyes, "Thank you, though."

Mylaela finally brought up the courage to walk towards the King's fallen body, a lump forming in her throat. Her hand outstretched to grab his own, leaning her head against the stone tomb.

Mylaela climbed out of the barrel with a pained gasp, stumbling onto the shore. Thorin rushed to her side, "Is it bad?"

"Nothing I can't manage," she dismissed his worries, sitting on a rock. Thorin sent her a stoic expression, not believing a word she had said. The Elf sat up straight, sending him a smile in hopes to prove she was fine.

"Nice try," he deadpanned, walking up to where she stood, "If you are not okay, I need to know. You are valuable to this company."

"It will heal, it is only a flesh wound."

~

"It kills me to imagine you with anyone else."

"I want no one else," Mylaela assured him, laying a comforting hand on his cheek, "I have waited a few thousand years to find someone I feel this way about. I can not lose you."

"You will not. I promise."

Mylaela bit back a cry, he promised not to leave her. Yet here he laid, lifeless, "I will forever envy the stone that shall hold you eternally."

The company gathered at the foot of the tombs, heads hung low in grief.

"The King is dead!" Gandalf bellowed through the halls of Erebor, a round of shouts following, "Long live the King!"

As everyone was dismissed to go their own ways, Mylaela found the Dwarf she had made a promise to speak to.

"Dis!" Mylaela called, approaching the Dwarf woman, "I, uh, I have something to give to you."

She looked at the Elf oddly, awaiting what Mylaela had spoken of, "Kili made me promise that if he, uh, didn't make it, that I would give this to you."

Dis let out a slight gasp, taking the stone engraved with runes from the She-Elf, "In his last moments, he asked me to tell you he was sorry. Your son was a brave Prince, he fell avenging his brother."

"You are Mylaela?" She questioned, the Elf slowly nodding, "Dwalin told me about you, and Thorin."

Mylaela did not know how to respond to the Dwarf, her mind running blank, "If Thorin fell in love with you, despite his hatred towards Elves, I am confident in setting aside my out hatred. You are welcome in Erebor whenever you wish."

"I may just take that offer," she smiled, making her way towards the exit.

The group of Dwarves she had spent the last year with stood by the gates, almost as if they were guarding it from her departure.

"It was truly a pleasure to know each of you," Mylaela sadly smiled, glancing back into the halls of Erebor, "I am regretful that I cannot stay."

Bofur was the first to react, stepping forward until he stood directly in front of her, "I hope to meet you again. I believe I can speak for everyone when I say you changed our perspective on the world. Your ability to show empathy for even those who have wronged you never ceases to amaze me."

Mylaela's lips flattened into a thin line, pulling him into a tight embrace. The rest of the company slowly stepped forward, joining in on the hug.

"Gloin!" Mylaela called as she stepped past the company, looking over her shoulder, "Drink for both of us tonight."

"Gladly," he nodded firmly, the company disappearing into the kingdom.

"Leaving without saying goodbye?" Someone called from behind, Mylaela chuckling as the Elven Prince approached her, "I was not aware you were here."

"Where will you go now?" He genuinely asked, knowing she was a vagabond for years prior, "I think it is time for me to return home."

"Mylaela!" He called once more as she turned, "Until we meet again."

With one last smile, Mylaela departed from the kingdom she fought so hard to regain for a race she once hated with every fiber of her being.

For once, the She-Elf understood why those would fall in love with beings plagued for death, they simply did not have a choice in the matter. The heart had a mind of its own, and worked in mysterious ways.

Mylaela believed peace could in fact be found in Middle Earth, only not in the way one would expect. The world itself could never find peace. True peace is found when the world has no order, yet the people you surround yourself with, whether it be family or friends, invoke peace within your heart.

That night, Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, would pass into legend.