Rue (A Thorin Oakenshield/Hobbit Fanfiction)

16

One Hundred & Fifteen Years Later

Time had passed since the battle of Moria. As promised, Thorin and Dis led their people through the first winter and continued to do so with the hundred more that passed. Slowly, their people rebuilt their lives from the struggle of losing their own kin. To many, it had felt like the desolation of Smaug all over again, for their families were barely surviving and starving due to the sudden lack of breadwinners amongst them. The wounds the battle left never healed. Everyone had lost someone, and everyone had been affected in some way. Still, as the dwarves had been taught since the dragon's demise, they were fighters. They had no choice but to prevail, and that they did.

Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin spent less time in the pub and more time working, whether it was in the guard, the finances, or the family. Dis raised her sons without a father, and though they could hardly remember a time when Beldan was alive, it still left it's mark on the boys. Instead, due to his heavy involvement in their lives, Thorin became the paternal figure within the household. Kili had always looked up to him, and Fili learned to do the same. The warrior he once aspired to be had fallen. Now, Fili recognized his destiny to be King, and with Thorin's guidance, he slowly began to mold himself into the role. Thorin himself still had a hard time believing that he was King, for a small part of him still felt that his father was alive. He and his sister reached an agreement, after heavy persuasion on Dis' part. No matter how small, any sign of Thrain would be investigated to determine it's truth. Talia, however, was surely lost; much to Dis' dissatisfaction, Thorin would not agree to entertain any rumors of her whatsoever. Any mention of her risked Thorin's wrath, though it was short and he was always apologetic after.

Still, Thorin wore the ring, and he refused to part with his bead. Every now and then, Fili or Kili would catch their uncle absentmindedly running his thumb over the clasp's pattern, or twisting the ring where it lay on his finger. He would always be outside, standing on the balcony, in these moments, and his eyes never left the stars, the same stars that had warmed his skin when he had first kissed Talia. He still kept rue in healthy stock, for after Talia had healed the wound on his hand, he had taken to educating himself on it's properties with Oin's help. She may have been dead to him, but he still refused to part with her. Any dwarf could tell that Thorin had lost his One, and that he would never take another.

Thorin had hardened with age, but he still had hope. It wasn't for Talia, but for his nephews, his father, his home. He knew that soon, the day would come where he would reclaim Erebor from Smaug. Azog was dead, and he had defended his lineage. He was itching to take back what was rightfully his from the beast: his home. Either way, his hope still burned deep within him, and he led his people with strength and wisdom due to this hope.

And the day he hoped for his was almost upon him.

The dwarf walked with his head low and hood down, trudging through the mud and rain on the streets of Bree. After a long and weary day, he was eager for the comforts of the inn around the corner. Stepping inside the Prancing Pony, his exhaustion had gotten the better of him; he hadn't even noticed he had been followed.

He sat alone at a table in the center of the pub, closest to the fire. He welcomed it's warmth, which was much needed after the cold of the rain, and did the same to the food that he had ordered, thanking the waitress who brought it to him. It was only after he had taken his first bite that he noticed his two shadows, each sitting on either side of the pub and eyeing him directly. The alarm in the dwarf's eyes quickly shifted to annoyance as he tilted his head, reaching for his sword and preparing for a nasty fight.

"There you are! Mind if I join you?" A man sat down before him, donning grey robes that matched the color of his hat. His beard was nearly as long as the staff he held at his side, and his eyes still twinkled through the wrinkles surrounding them. "I'll have the same." He said, catching the arm of the waitress. Thorin watched as the lurkers stood up suddenly, shoving each other out of the door as fast as they could. Something about his guest was intimidating enough to prevent a fight.