LotR/The Hobbit Drabbles

Broken (Thorin)

Another tumblr request, saying 'I love you' as the broken glass litters the floor.

You were lucky that Thorin had allowed you on this quest. After all, you were a woman, and not proficient in the arts of war and subterfuge that would be necessary on such a journey. But reclaiming Thorin's home and birthright had been important to him, so it was important to you. Granted, Thorin's affections for you had certainly played a part in gaining permission to join his Company, but you had earned your place after the miles you had traveled, the goblins you had fought, and the wargs you had slain with little more than a frying pan.

Well, you used to feel lucky. Now you wondered if it might have been your worst idea to date. For all purposes the quest had been successful; Smaug was slain, Erebor was reclaimed, and Thorin was king. Everything else was wrong. Thorin had become nothing more than a king. His identity had become the crown on his head and the riches of his halls. He was no longer the earnest, hardworking dwarf prince you had come to love. He no longer played his harp, or smiled at you, or shared a good-natured tall tale with his friends. Instead he skulked around the empty halls of Erebor, murmuring greed-driven nonsense to himself, sending hateful glares to anyone who dared step too close.

You had taken most of the brunt of it, not recognizing his descent into madness for the blindness of your love for him. It was only when you saw him berate his nephews for nothing more than their concern for the people of Laketown that you realized how far gone he truly was. The Thorin you knew would have shared those concerns, and shown the young dwarves by example how to handle those concerns with maturity. Instead, he had hissed insults at the people who had given him shelter and slithered into the shadows.

You had to do something. The rest of the Company had tried and failed to reach him. But surely your position as his beloved gave you some safety from his raging, and you might be the only person left in the halls that could reach him now. You filled two glass goblets with his favorite mulled wine, bracing yourself for the worst as you carried them to where Thorin brooded on his throne of riches.

"Who disturbs my solitude?" Thorin snarled as you entered the hall. You swallowed thickly, reminding yourself firmly that this was Thorin, your beloved, before stepping into the light.

"Oh," Thorin sank back into his throne, regal furs closing in around his crowned head. "It's you." He almost sounded disappointed.

You pushed aside the rising sense of grief at his tone and stepped forward, holding a goblet out to him. "I thought you might like to share a drink with me," you offered, looking for any traces of the dwarf you loved so deeply.

Something reptilian stared back.

Thorin sneered, though he took the goblet from you. "Think you I am weak, then? Think you I need coddling, so you seek to ply me with wine? Or perhaps," he hissed, tilting the goblet this way and that, studying its dull gleam in the dying light of the torches, "you seek jewels to wear around your silken throat." His calm was deadly, and a beat of eerie silence rang in your ears before you dared to protest.

"No, Thorin, I just wanted to"—

"Liar!" The king roared, and his voice echoed strangely in the empty space. "You come with your sweetened words, and your gifts of drink, but I know where your loyalty lies! You and that dwarf I once called brother—you conspire against me, stealing kisses in the alcoves as you would steal my gold, my throne from beneath me!"

Tears stung behind your eyes, a heat that matched the anger that built to protect you from the grief that would tear you apart if you let it. "Thorin, please, we would never"— you cried in anguish, but he would hear none of it.

"You have no right to call me that!" He stood with serpentine grace and hurled his goblet, untouched by his lips, at you. You ducked, a sob ripping loose from your throat, as the glass shattered against the stone wall and fell to the floor in a shower of shards. You could feel the wet spots where his wine had splashed your dress. There was even an aching sting in your shoulder where a piece of glass must have pierced through your dress into your skin. But you could only look at what had become of the dwarf you loved so deeply.

Thorin was motionless as the statues of his forefathers on either side of the throne. There was no mercy in his gaze, no love; just the cold glitter of gems that had only known the darkness of the depths where they were formed.

"I love you, Thorin," you confessed when you could conquer the sobs in your throat and the silence had stretched dangerously long, "but I cannot stand what you have become. I cannot stay here and watch you turn into everything you swore to fight against." A tear trickled down your cheek, then splattered on the exposed skin of your collar bone. You ignored it. "You have become your grandfather. I will not stay here. I want no more part of this."

Begging your feet to be stronger than your heart, you turned and started walking away. Thorin called your name after a few steps, and you could not help but pause and look back. While his expression had changed to one of confusion, there was still no warmth in his eyes. Not even your departure could dislodge the hold that dragon sickness had upon him. Giving up the last shred of hope that had lingered within you, you left him in that hall alone.

Dwalin saw you first. He sat behind the barricade Thorin had ordered built when Smaug was ended and the people of Laketown came for help. He stood from his perch on an unwieldy block of stone, his eyes full of questions. At his movement, the rest of the Company turned to you, their expressions echoing Dwalin's. Kili was the first to speak.

"What happened?"

You shook your head, taking a moment to fight the tears off again. You would have time for those later. "I cannot stay here," you said. "I can do nothing for him. He's too far gone."

Dwalin nodded. He, of all of the Company, understood. He was Thorin's closest friend, and knew the pain of watching the one they both cared for so deeply disappear beneath the greed of dragon sickness. The difference between the two of you, though, was that you did not have the strength to keep watching it tear Thorin, and in turn, this world, apart.

Bilbo stood, brushing his pants off awkwardly. "I'll go with you," he said.

While you admired his thoughtfulness, you weren't sure if you could bear to have someone witness every step you took away from Thorin. You opened your mouth to protest, but Bilbo held up his hand in that polite but firm way of his. "I'll go with you," he said again. "We'll find Gandalf and see if we can fix this mess."

You had your doubts about that, but this time, you nodded and whispered your thanks to the brave hobbit who had traveled so far with you. If only your broken heart could be fixed by the Grey Wizard's magic.