Look at her, they say. Look at her still quite young face; yet sorrow mars it already. The queen of Erebor, yet no joy comes from it now.
It's a dreadfull day today, really. Every sound, every word, every detail is crystalclear. The sad air that runs through the Lonely Mountain, the sorrowful faces of his people. They mourn him, they mourn the man that brought them back home, the one that could bring their moral up when hope seemed lost. Yet today, it's him that is lost.
They let your blank face look ahead, they let you walk with heavy steps through the halls. They see your black robes, veil and crown. A widow, falling in darkness.
No one looks at you, they do not want to, or they do not dare. Their eyes are full of sadness, yet your face is like stone: smooth with not a single crack.
Look at her, his people's eyes seem to say. Look at that lass, mature and older but not old enough to have her hair already turn grey.
Older by a decade or two than Fili you were, when married to Thorin Oakenshield. The king whose hair started to turn grey. A shame, they whispered. A shame that such young lass of influental family should marry our king. A shame a lass of a family who is powerhungry, should marry him. Yet, you did. Oh yes, you did.
You remember both good and bad times, times when you laughed, times when you mourned. Beloved Dis, Balin, and others that left to the halls of Mahal.
And now, it all comes back to you. The first difficult months you spent; fighting, discussing, disagreeing. And then come the first times you understand each other. The first times when you understandd his smiles, when you start to realise when he is annoyed, when he's content, when he's happy.
You remember the first time you actually realized you were in love. You remember him protesting to Kili when wanting to court a lass from Ered Luin. You remember Fili pointing out that you were not that much older then him.
You remember his grumpiness, his seriousness, his anger, his smile, his deep and booming voice. You remember hands holding you when you saw no way out. You remember blue eyes aknowledging you, blue eyes darkening in desire, blue eyes going dark with anger, lighting up with laughter and relief.
You remember nights before a hearth, book in hand. You remember passionate nights away from the world and it's troubles. You remember kisses and hugs. You remember days where soft harp music lulled you to sleep. You remember him singing. You remember him telling you all about his family; about his quest.
You remember out of control dinners with the company, him shouting at Fili. You remember him screaming at Elves, threatening Bard, and at other times having deep conversations with him.
A voice gets you out of your reverie. '' Mylady,...'' For once, you're thankful it's Dwalin that finds you. Not Fili; Kili nor bofur or anyone, your glad that it's him, because he will not pry.
He will not ask why you are not crying and screaming, he will not ask why you say nothing because he knows.
He knows your heart is in pieces, shredded apart. He knows you feel void, that only grief is keeping your heart beating. He knows internally you are breaking more every second and crying and screaming until you feel your heart will burst.
He knows, yet he says nothing.
'' I thought you'd like to see him, alone, before the people and delegations arrive.'' Dwalin holds your arm as you walk, and suddenly you feel thrice his age.
Thorin Oakenshield's face is white as paper, hair grey with from time to time tiny streaks of black. His old hands full of rings rest on his midriff, his crown for the moment off. Your hands tremble as they reach out to touch his face. You touch the braid you gave him, your own ( h/c) one falling forward, full of beads he made himself.
You carress a face that will not laugh again, nor open eyes again, nor be angry. You close your eyes and touch his stonecold forehead.
And in this moment, you realise how much you love him.
So much it hurts.
The funeral is in one of the main halls, where you once were married. Fili, Kili, Kili's wife, they all stand beside you as the officials and priests say farewell to the king.
Then the people come.
You sit beside the coffin, eyes trained ahead, as one by one, they come:
King Bard, Dain of the Iron Hills, Gandalf, the Company, and then the Elves; Galadriel, Lord Elrond, King Thranduil and Legolas. He stops before you. Thranduil's eyes rest on the Arkenstone that is sitting between your hands. '' Your Highness...''
Yet you say nothing.
Then comes old Bilbo Baggins and his young nevue Frodo. A relief washes over you as you catch his eyes.
They come and come crying, soft voices, some wailing, others grave and silent.
It is Fili, that touches your hand. '' Aunt.'' You look at him and his eyes mirror exactly what you feel: weary, sad, tired and sick of everything. You feel as if you're a puppet moving forward. The coffin opens once again, and softly you place the Arkenstone in Thorin's hands. And in the privacy of your family, you kiss Thorin's forehead and whisper softly how much you love him. Again and again, until everyone is long gone and you are alone.
It is quiet in the tombs, where Thorin is since an hour honorably burried. You sit, looking at the runes scribed in the tomb. You close your eyes and see him, smiling at you, being angry at you, being stubborn.
Of course, more wanted to come, but Kili and Fili told them clearly to leave you alone. You need to mourn him alone...Alone in the darkness where no one disturbs you. Where you can say goodbye till you see him again when you will pass yourself.
And oh, how much much you love him.
You lay your head on the cold stone, feeling as if your heart has died along with him.
And there, on the tomb of your beloved, you finally cry...
And the crying does not stop. Not always visible, but always always there.
It is at least a decade if not two after Thorin has died that one day you feel a tiny flicker of Peace. It is outside, with Fili and his firstborn that finally a tiny smile appears on your face. Today is not so bad, not good but less dark than yesterday.
And new memories are added as you grow older and older, wrinkled, crumpled over by age.
And you realise that you have another reason to stay longer; grandchildren and again somewhere laughter.
Do you think she can hear us, Fili?'' - '' I don't know, Kee...''
You hear them, the king and his brother, their wives and children, and all of them, holding your crumpled crumpled hands as you feel death luring you in.
Anytime now, it will not take long anymore.
Unlike Thorin, it is a nice and quite agreable day when you pass on, surrounded by playing children, Kili telling you once again about their quest to reclaim Erebor.
Then, you are no more.
Pretty. You think. You look at yourself in the reflection of the water, your reflection again young and bright.
You watch yourself in the water as you sit down by a lake, enjoying the soft breeze.
And then, you feel hands on your face, a deep thundering voice and then someone sitting next to you.
'' You did take your time, my love.'' You smile as you turn to a much younger and brighter version of Thorin. '' I missed you, you know.''
'' I know.'' Then he stands up.
You stand up and hug him. It's so familiar you feel your heart will burst.
Then come the kisses, not one to say goodbye, but one to say hello.
One to say welcome and i'll never leave you again.
END