Prologue:
She was falling, reaching, grasping for even the merest sliver of solidity or familiarity. There was nothing but cold air flying past her, sending her hair whirling about her face in blinding silver. It was dark… so dark… The blackness seemed to be creeping into the corners of her vision before it had consumed her.
It is happening again… The thought flickered through her mind before she could stop it, sending her heart into dark despair. Was there yet another new realm of dark evil come to claim her?
Her arms shook with the effort of reaching for naught but air. She knew there was nothing, though she dared to hope. She fell through time and memory; through light and darkness until it had seemed she was lost. She felt the currents of time rippling around her, stealing the very breath from her lungs. She grasped around herself blindly, her mind and heart going into panic. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on something, anything to keep her mind from spinning.
She saw her light. It was beginning to blossom, deep within her, but she could see it there. It began to fill her, warmth flooding through her limbs, chasing away the cold and panic. She was bathed in a cocoon of light so bright that she never noticed the light of the mortal realm coming upon her.
She did not notice until the unyielding earth came to meet her. The light faded as her vision darkened. The last thing she saw was the soft picture of her moon in the bright sky. Familiarity had abandoned her… she was home no longer.
Durin's Day was upon the halls of Erebor and the great city of Dale. Preparations for the feast that evening were undergoing, many cooks and florists darting about in a great rush. It seemed that the plans were behind schedule, what with the arrival of the Elvenking Thranduil just a few short days prior. Many Durin's Day plans were put on hold as those involved with such matters bustled around to make short term arrangements to impress such an esteemed guest. Much to their relief, the Elvenking left in a rush, allowing them to resume preparations for the feast.
Young Thorin, son of Thrain, grandson of Thror, strode through the halls of Erebor, supervising preparations where he could while avoiding those who walked with such purpose that they would trample those in their way. All throughout the halls his eyes traveled, searching for her. His gaze alighted upon copper curls, bright yellow ribbons entwined throughout, and his face broke into a wide smile.
"Thorin!" Her voice, clear as a bell and just as beautiful, rang through the crowd. One hand was waving wildly in the air as the other was fisted into the voluminous skirts of her festival gown. He had it custom made for her, and it brought him great joy to see how radiant she looked in it.
"Baelna." He smiled, offering his arm when he reached her side. "You look glorious."
She placed her hands on her hips and stuck her tongue out at him. "Always so serious; always so proper! Tell me, my love, why must you be such on this festival day?" Baelna could see the hint of amusement in his eyes. Stoic though his bearing, his eyes were still the gateway to his soul, and she could read him like a book no matter how he tried to hide behind his masks. Her face softened as she reached up to cup his cheek. "What troubles you, Thorin?" She asked gently, seeing the troubles his eyes held.
"Hm?" He was distracted. He could see the worry etched onto her face. He covered her hand with his, grasping it tightly to comfort her. "I was thinking on how to approach the king for his blessing." Thorin said to her as he led her down the great stone halls to the Gallery of Kings. It was there that a great golden statue of Thror was to be unveiled. She stopped, forcing him to turn back to her with a look of confusion on his face. She stepped closer, taking the hand he held her with and moving it to her swelling belly.
"We have faith in you, my love." Bright green eyes met his. He could see the trust and understanding in her gaze. He leaned in to kiss her, to show her that he would take care of their family. He would take care of her. "Go." She whispered, a serene smile on her face.
"You think I will leave you before bidding my child goodbye as well?" He joked, kneeling before her. He placed his hands on either side of her waist and kissed the slight swell beneath the fabric. He heard her giggle.
"Go, you silly prince. Go before the king has more pressing matters to attend to." She pushed him away, a playful smile upon her lips. "I will see you at the feast. Now go!" She laughed as she turned away, a bounce in her step as she left his company. Thorin smiled at her retreating form. He was sure his grandfather would pass on his blessing. Thror was no fool, and he had long wanted to see Thorin wed.
Thorin began to head toward the crafting quarter. He knew that was where his grandfather would be. It was just before midday; the artisans would be inspecting the precious stones that came from deep within the mountain, a task that the king always oversaw.
Thorin entered the great hall, intending to pass through to the merchant's quarter and then on to the crafting quarter. As he neared the gates, he was suddenly struck anew with the splendor of Durin's halls. He watched as many peddled their wares for the festival, colored kites and fragrant flowers among the stalls.
Children ran through the legs of their parents, pulling siblings and friends and new toys along as they took in the sights of the ebon stone inlaid with gold. For many, this would be the only time they could see Erebor in its splendor, the journey from Dale too taxing on their tired minds. Thorin wanted forever to see his home this way; thriving and full of life.
He had not noticed it before, but something caught his eye, darting in and out of the corner of his vision. He turned to look out of the open gate, the sun glinting off of the gold blinding him for only a moment. The trees were bowed over with the force of a great wind. He could hear it whistling through the branches, stealing away children's kites and whisking away their cries into the air.
This was not right. Durin's Day was temperate and beautiful… it had always been such throughout history. It would not be stormy on this day. Something was coming.
And he knew.
He reflected upon his grandfather… his king's behavior over the last weeks. He had grown greedy, reclusive, and short-tempered. Thorin knew the gold sickness had settled in. He knew what the sickness had called.
He was afraid.
A guard began to pass, curiously looking at the weather while on his patrol route. Seeing his prince, he bowed.
"Curious weather today, M'lord." The guard said jovially as he rose. Thorin stared. Was he the only one who knew?
"Come with me." Thorin grunted, his voice heavily laden with authority. The guard nodded mutely as he followed Thorin to a stair carved within the stone.
He heard it then, a far off roar that the wind carried away so quickly he had thought he imagined it. His eyes widened in horror. He was right.
He took off up the stairs, heavy boots thudding dully against the stone as he approached the battlements. Balin was there at the top, staring with confusion at the sky. The flags strained against the wind, whipping every which way with such force it was a wonder they did not tear away.
"Balin." Thorin's voice was filled with warning, causing the wizened warrior to look upon his prince with worry. "Sound the alarm." Thorin said, almost too calmly. The wind grew louder and ever stronger, sending Thorin's dark hair whipping about his face in a frenzy. Next to him, a flag was ripped from the battlements, the heavy wooden pole sent skittering over the stone like a piece of parchment. Thorin looked back to Balin.
"Call up the guard." Balin hesitated at these words. "Do it now!" Thorin commanded, striding to the overlook into the great hall.
"What is it?" Balin asked quietly, afraid to hear the response. Thorin clenched his jaw to the point of pain, fear in his eyes.
"Dragon." He said. Balin looked back to the sky in shock as Thorin roared over the great hall. "Dragon!"
There was a brief silence as all went still, a silence broken by a roar that struck terror into the hearts of all. Panic took over as the laughter was quickly replaced with screaming, the lush trees that surrounded Erebor suddenly being hurled past the gates in flaming masses. Thorin turned to find Balin staring in horror at the beast that approached, frozen in place. He wrapped his arms around his father's dearest friend, pulling him to safety behind a pillar of stone as a fiery blast erupted upon the battlements.
The heat was unlike anything he had ever felt, even when working in the Great Forge. He released Balin as the heat faded, looking beyond the pillar to find the dragon turn his destruction upon Dale. He watched as banners and kites were turned to ash, and towers that were strong and true turned to rubble upon contact with the dragon's body. It was a fearsome beast, and it was destroying everything he loved.
"Balin, find my father. We must gather the guard! I will join you all at the gate. We must not let this beast win." Balin nodded his agreement, and Thorin turned to the stair.
"Where are you going?" Balin called to him, and Thorin looked back for only a moment.
"There is one I would see safe." He said, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.
Baelna… His only concern was for her. He would not lose her.
He ran through the halls, frantic with worry, searching for any sign of her. He tried his best to avoid the panicked, though the crowds were so dense he had to push violently to get through. She had to be here somewhere. She had to be.
"Thorin!" He heard her call for him, but he could not see her. "Thorin!" Again, more frantic, but closer. He would have passed her had she not gone tumbling into him.
"Baelna!" He wrapped her in his embrace, breathing in the scent of her hair as the crowds rushed around them. For him, the world stood still in this moment. She was safe. What he valued most in this world was here, in his arms, and though the world was falling apart around them, she was safe.
"Thorin! What is going on? I keep hearing things about dragons!" She looked up at him with frightened eyes, her face falling at the affirmation in his.
"You need to get somewhere safe, Baelna. Now." There was no room for argument in his tone. She nodded, her strength overriding her fear for the moment. She was the strongest person he knew. She would be okay. He had to trust that.
"Where do I go?" She asked, determination in her voice.
"The library." He told her. "It is large and cool. You will be safe from dragonfire. I do not think he will venture there… he wants a different prize. Stay there until I come for you." At her nod, he tightened his jaw. He may not make it through the fight to come. Despite the crowds around them, he swept her into his arms, meeting her lips in one last desperate kiss. "Go." He commanded when he broke free, and he fought the knot in his stomach at the tears in her eyes.
"I love you." She whispered, then turned and ran, pulling those who would listen as she went.
Thorin forced himself to turn his back upon her. He forced his feet to take the steps that would hasten him away from her arms and into imminent death. He hoped she would be safe as he drew his blade, the sound of the metal sliding through the sheath turning his thoughts dark. He would taste dragon's blood this day. He would stop the destruction the wyrm had cast upon them.
The guard had already gathered before the great golden gates. They rattled with the wind, sending great echoes through the cavernous space and nearly deafening those who stood fast, weapons drawn. He could see the fear on all of their faces. He joined his father at the front of the ranks, Thrain's great hammer held at the ready. He readied his own sword, calling out commands in Khuzdul as the first of the blows against the gate came.
Too quickly, the gate was torn asunder and the dragon was before them. His yellow gaze settled on them for only a moment before deeming them unworthy. He took a great step forward, crushing those who stood before him. Thrain's leg was caught beneath a talon and Thorin had been lucky enough to fall beneath the rubble that the dragon brought in his wake. He heard his father's muffled screams of pain as he clutched the injured appendage.
Thorin pushed the rubble away, climbing to his feet to assist his father.
"No! No, son! You must find the king! We need our king!" Thrain grunted through the pain, jabbing his free arm in the direction the dragon just went. Thorin knew. The treasury is where he would be heading, king and dragon both. He jumped to his feet, very nearly flying through the ruined corridors. He heard the dragon somewhere ahead, and even in ruin, Thorin would know these halls well. He came upon his grandfather as the dragon began to claim his gold, and as Thorin pulled at the king's fine robes, he would not move, eyes glazed and staring at the destruction of that before him.
Thorin wrapped his arms around Thror's waist, pulling as hard as he could. The precious stone in Thror's hands tumbled down the stairs, into the churning pile of gold. The Arkenstone. Thorin had not seen it in his grandfather's grasp, and now it was lost.
"No!" Thror screamed, fighting against Thorin as he went to dive after it. Thorin pulled him away and to safety, shoving him down the halls and over rubble to the gates, where he hoped all that remained were fleeing to safety.
They reached his father, and the many others who found their opportunity for escape. Thror ran into the smoky air as Thorin helped his father to his feet, dragging him out into the open and away from the dragon.
As soon as they were in the light, the great gates came crashing down, the ebon stone crumbling around them, effectively sealing the entrance… and the fate of all those left inside.
No… Copper curls and emerald eyes, a playful smile and mischievous demeanor crossed through his thoughts, as well as a swollen belly. He felt his heart clench so painfully it drove him to his knees, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
"No!" He bellowed, his throat tearing at the force of his cry. He could not move. He could not think. He could not breathe from the crushing weight of his despair. It was not until he heard the cries for help, beseeching someone who was nearby. He turned his gaze to the high hill that looked down upon Erebor and Dale. There, upon a great antlered beast, was Thranduil, the entire army of the Woodland Realm at his back.
"Help us…" Thorin croaked, struggling to bring himself to his feet. He waved his arm in the air, weakly, forcing himself to stagger into view. "Help us!" He screamed, now waving both frantically. "Please! Help us!" He cried into the wind, his hope diminishing with every passing moment. He watched as Thranduil looked at him. He watched as Thranduil turned away, pulling his army with him.
Thorin watched as their ally let them burn.
He watched as everything he loved crumbled to dust before him.
He clenched his jaw as rage began to fill him. He would not let the losses destroy him. No, he would exact his revenge with his hate.
They would all know his pain.
The darkness began to cloud his vision… when he could no longer see, it clouded his heart and mind.
All she knew was pain. Everything around her was dark, though she could feel the heat of sunlight on her skin. Breathing was not an option, she had lost the ability to think and move. All she felt was excruciating, terrible pain and she wished for death in that moment, if only to free her from this torment.
She tried to open her eyes, only to see blinding light and dark spots that danced through her vision. She felt sick, but could not even bring herself to retch upon the earth beside her. She did not know where she fell. She did not remember her fall. She forgot the feel of the warmth on her skin as she started to fade once again. She forgot all but pain.
She forgot the face beneath the wide-brimmed blue hat that had leaned over her.
Her world went dark and cold, and she knew no more.
A/N: Welcome, all, to my rewrite. I have once more found my inspiration, and with it I hope to bring you something I hope to be much better than what I have previously written.
For all of the support given to me through this long process, I wanted to thank all of you who have stuck with me, and want to welcome all new readers as well.
Chapters will be posted every Tuesday, unless otherwise stated. If you would like information on delays or chapters, or are simply curious and would like to ask questions and see sneak peeks, check out my tumblr ever-watchful-eyes-of-night.
Also posted there will be voiceovers of every chapter, so that those who wish may download an mp3 of my chapter and put it on any media device for portability.
I very sincerely hope you enjoy what I have done, and please remember to leave a review. The good, the bad, and the ugly are all welcome! Just please be respectful of other readers. I value ANY input that is given, and will strive to put what I learn from you beautiful people to good use in every update.
It is very hard to hurt my feelings, so if you would like to be harsh, please do. Also, I am not adept in Tolkien lore, though I think I know more than some, so any incorrectness on my part is unintentional and if brought to my attention, will attempt to be fixed.
Thank you for sticking with me.
I hope you all have a beautiful day, and I very much hope you enjoy what I have written.
Much love,
Sarah