In the kingdom of Erebor In the days of old. When the heirs of the said kingdom were still young. The heirs were Thorin the second, and first in line to take the throne after his father. And his brother and sister. Dís only girl and second born. And Frerin, the youngest of the royal siblings and the weakest. Frerin always had a cough about him, his muscles lame. No amount of training made him stronger. The king and grandfather of the siblings sought out a way to help his beloved grandson. He paid for all types of medicine from Man's to Elvin. Nothing took. At the end of his rope the king grew weary and lost hope for his grandson ever becoming strong like the Durin line.
One day, word was sent back to the king. A family of healers and medicine makers far out in a forest by the name of "Lorîen wood". This family had been known for their grand miracles with their special medicine. Without a moment to spare he packed up his grandchildren and traveled to meet this family.
Soon upon arriving the King was greeted by a rather large family of fiery haired dwarves. the king explained what troubled his grandson, he begged the family for help, offering the kinship many riches from the kingdom of Erebor. Also to take them back and make them the official healers of the royal family. The Dwarves agreed to what the king had offered, but only if their oldest daughter would be Thorins bride when she came of age. The king agreed to this, seeing as the girl was very striking in her appearance. Having a head of what some could only describe as fire. The girls hair seemed to burn at the first sign of sunlight. Her eyes were like that of the sea, changing from royal blue to jade green. Her skin was that of the finest porcelain.
Although he would never admit it, Thorin was very taken with the young girl and also agreed to the engagement.
Soon after the family had moved to Erebor, the medicine for Frerin was given daily. The boy grew strong and lacked sickness. Soon, he was fighting like his forefathers and catching up with his brother.
Years crept by, before he knew it Thorin was to be wed to his betrothed. The girl had grown into a fine Darrow dame. Her features had grown and softened, her hair became like a waterfall of flames falling down her back. Her lips becoming plump with the passing years, Her eyes were now shaded by black rimmed spectacles, due to staying up late reading books and manuscripts. Whenever Throin spied his bride his chest swelled with pride at the thought that she and him would carry on a legacy for the good of Erebor and its people. The day of the wedding came, but not before the fire drake from the north came looking for the hoard of gold underneath the mountain.
After the desolation of Smug, Thorin and his bride-to-be wondered the blue mountains alongside their people. Her family had suffered the dragons fire, but she still retained the gifts of her heritage. The miracle like medicine making. For years, the fiery haired woman stayed in the blue mountains with her people, helping anyway she could. After a certain time Thorin became cold and distant from his Bride-to-be and family. Thorin, in a fit of self pity released her from their promise from years before, and left the Blue mountains to work years in the villages of man. Heartbroken, and frustrated. The young dame couldn't bare to see what type of sorrow the once prince had left his people in. So she left after him, looking for him to return, or on account of her feelings towards him. She had left but never seemed to return to her people. And so, she had given up the only life she knew to become a wood dweller, and traveling apothecary.
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In a hidden clearing on the edge of the lush forest of Lóthlorien stands a cottage, the cottage had seen better days, a now faintly colored white building. The structure being ridden with holes in the straw roof of the home. Ivy over time had inched its way up the wall engulfing the building with the vines and flowers that bloomed off them. A river ran by, babbling and flooding the immediate forest.
A storm had raged on for hours, almost a day. Thunder cracked and the wind howled, threatening to do more harm then it actually would do. A candle glows a soft sunburst of yellow and orange within the one room cottage. The calming sound of a pestle grinding down onto spices, dried leaves, and berries of many sorts. The rhythmic and reliable scratching of a pen, stopping every few seconds to scribble down what results the mistress of said pen had just concluded. The mistress leans back, to look at her work, going over the script for any errors or forgotten knowledge that would be useful to her later on. With a sigh of drowsiness, the mistress sets the delicate feather back into its place in the inkwell. Wiping the ink and spices from her hands onto the apron layer of her dress. She then loosens the ties and takes her apron off and sets it aside, looking to the outside and sighing in an odd mix of loneliness and contentment. Along with settling in for the the night, she adds the newly mixed medicine to a traveling bag for the coming business trip to the shire to sell it to those in need.
She takes the time to put a kettle of water on her stove to be boiled, stoking the fire as she does so. As she picks up the kettle, she hears the foreign sound of a knock on the door. Making a screwed up and confused facial expression, grabs a cheese knife that sat near her. She grips the doorhandle and slowly pulls it back. Only to find a hooded traveler, his face covered by the sky blue fabric. His black hair with also a few silver streaks ran down the sides of his chest.
"I normally would not be a bother to those staying warm and comfortable in their home on such a day like this. But if you would be so kind, I need a place to stay, and directions as well." The booming yet gentle voice says. She was silent for a moment, listening to the travelers simple pled for a place to stay. She nodded, waving in the passer by. "I will pay you for your services if need be madam." The man said taking off his drenched cloak. "This is of no trouble sir, its been ages since someone has visited me. Living in Lóthorien forest can get lonesome and tedious." Throughout the small conversation she was trying to figure out why this man seemed so familiar to her, even his very scent seem to drudge up thoughts of her life in Erebor.
The mistress, with tea and food in hand turned and stared in shock as she knew who this traveler was, and how his voice brought up so many old feelings and memories.
"Thorin?"
The mistress in question goes by the name Madelynn.
