||Chapter 18||
<|Third Age 2974|>
Thorin Oakenshield does not think much of Endor's lack of appearance the next day, given their typical unintended avoidance of one another in their respective duties. But when he finds himself waiting for twenty minutes in the library, and no Endor arriving, the king begins to worry greatly. And speaking with the others does not seem to help, as neither Thorin's nephews nor Dwalin have seen Endor today. Thorin would have asked with Bilbo as well, but that hobbit seems to be missing as well.
And thus, it is a new search for the King Under the Mountain, pacing through his halls with increasing panic that Thranduil has stolen her. From the dining hall, to her chambers, to those of Bilbo, Thorin cannot seem to find a hobbit at all. And in his frenzy, he seems to forget the most likely of hiding spots, and one fitting of a hobbit. Indeed, it is not until he loses all hopes that he remembers her garden.
The king actually runs through his castle in his final hope of her safety. Therefore, when he sees her silhouette basked in the light of the sunset, a deep sigh of relief and slight anger escapes from his lungs. Her hair shines beautifully with no dirt in the mix, feet trodden deep in the dirt of the lavender fields. But Thorin chooses to ignore all of this, suddenly frustrated by her actions. "Where have you been?"
Endor is not surprised to hear him, seeing as she heard his running feet from indoors. But even then, Endor doubts that she would have been surprised at his entrance, seeing as she is so numb to emotions at this time. Nothing would surprise her anymore. "Here...in my room....places."
"What is wrong?" the king asks, forgetting his anger as he recognize her sorrow. Moving towards her, he finally catches a glimpse of her tear-stained face and numb expression, blue-eyes failing to flutter towards his. Thorin stands within a comfortable distance of the hobbit, desiring to move closer though Endor wishes he would move further away. This will only hurt them both.
"This might be my last days in Erebor," Endor relents, looking upwards at Thorin whose face drops in surprise and tragedy. It's an expression that befit her yesterday, but less fitting for the changing king. Thorin Oakenshield does not deserve this.
"Why would you ever think that?" Thorin asks, completely dumbfounded at her response. But in the same words, he voices his sudden desperation for her not to ever leave this place. Little does Thorin know that this was never Endor's decision.
"I must watch my brother if Bilbo is to travel here again... he will not allow Frodo to come," Endor remarks easily, having come to terms with the hours she's spent here in the garden. She'll miss this ideal scene, with lavender around her and flowers blooming. But more than that, she'll miss Thorin and the dwarves.
"He cannot do that," Thorin exerts, not knowing of the girl's relationship with her uncle. Endor owes Bilbo everything, from taking her brother in, to caring for him.
"He can and he has every right to. I need to give my brother the best life possible, and in order to do that, he must be a normal hobbit of no adventure," Endor tells Thorin, finallly looking upward to stare him in the eye. He practically falls into tears himself as the king sees the tears hiding in the rims of the blue orbs, red outlining the sea.
"Why not live here in the Lonely Mountain with the Company? The dwarves will accept you with open arms." Another plea of the weakening king, being forced to extremes by the thumb of the hobbit female. But Thorin is no different from the other Company members: they'd all beg the same.
"It's like you said before...I am not a dwarf, Bilbo is not a dwarf, and Frodo is surely not a dwarf. We belong in the Shire," Endor responds, hating that she has to bring the point up, but knowing that Thorin is now right. Her home will never truly exist in Erebor, in a home and populace of such different people. As much as she hates it, she belongs with the others of her race.
YOU ARE READING
Endotherm {Thorin/Hobbit}
Fanfiction"The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen, No words were laid on stream or stone When Durin woke and walked alone. He named the nameless hills and dells; He drank from yet untasted wells; He stooped and looked in M...
