Aviel

Chapter 4

We've all grown up with great stories and fairytales of dragons the size of towns with their ground trembling roars, the elegant elves and thier legendary bow skills but the tales that captivated everyone were the stories of battles that lasted years and had been passed down through the ages. Whether they were won or lost, it made its way through the generations, passed down from mouth to mouth. Even though some parts of the tales would change, it would still have the same effect on us each time we heard it. I had been told every tale of heroic battles against all kinds of mysterious races and had heard many versions. I expected for my brothers and unlce to lead a vast dhwarf army into battle but never expected myself to reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

I let the wind unwind certain strands of my hair from my braid. I sucked in a deep breath and gazed upon the stone troll giants. Moss had started to grow from their eyes, giving off the image of their pupils being different shades of green. I placed a clamy hand onto one of the giants forearms, letting the grit of the stone slide between the cracks of my fingers. 

" Lets keep moving, we can't fall behind" I shot my head up to see Balin gathering the whole company together and getting back on their ponies. I let my hand linger on the giant for a few more seconds before tearing away and climbing onto my own horse. I gave him a quick kick in the sides and started down the uneven path down through the forest. I let the swaying of the pony rock me steadily, the chirp of the birds singing me to an uneasy sleep...

I jolted awake as my pony stopped at a wooden fence. It took a good few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the glorious sight that lay before my eyes. Never had I seen or heard of such a place that could hold so much beauty, life and happiness. The lucious hills lapped bellow me, rippling off into the distance. Hidden in a valley was the small town of Hobbiton, where no-one was turned away and you were greeted by smiles wherever you went. They lived in a life of peace and happiness, where they felt safe and protected at all times. They didn't have a history of death and destruction, they didn't feel that today could be their last. They happily called this place a home, and I would very easily as well

I ungracefully tumbled off my steed and led the weary dhwarfs to Bilbo's home, Bag End. Just as I was about to knock on the wooden green door, I heard a sweet voice coming from the kitchen. I furrowed my eyebrows together and slowly walked inside. The dust of the hobbits hole was overwhelming and it took all my strength not to cough. I called the rest of the company inside and we slowly made our way through the maze of hallways to the kitchen. There, we found sweet Bilbo Bagins making his afternoon seed cake and singing to himself. I instantly recognised the song and I could feel the adorable hobbit pulling each and every one of my heart strings. 

"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl

Pound them up with a thumping pole'

And when you've finished, if they're whole,

Send them down the hall to roll!"

Bilbo was by now dancing along the clattered kitchen bench. Us dhwarfs giggled behind our dirty hands, trying our hardest to hold it in. We decided to join him in on the last line of the song,

" That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

Bilbo spun around so quickly that he fell over. We were all beside ourselves laughing at the poor fellow and I realised then that this was the first time I had laughed in a long time, and it felt good, I finally felt I could let the pain of Thorin and my brothers go. It will still hurt me whenever I think of them, but now I knew I could actually get over the grief. I was free