Thorin's Rage
I wasn't the first to sit here, that was obvious. The rest of the company had too, each individually sneaking away; they all came here to mourn. When we first stumbled upon this room the air chilled and silence fell. The resting place of our last trapped mountain folk. My peoples half decayed bodies lied in eternal sleep; mothers clutched their children to their bodies and thick layers of dust covered them like a blanket. The cold stone wall to the right of me had a little alcove which the layers of dust had been wiped away from by individuals from the company. Each sneaking away to mourn in solitude. Following suit I sat and remembered for a while.
o0o
A hand latched on to the wall from the entrance beside me, creating a dusty echo that pulled me out of my thoughts. I could not see who it belonged to, but I knew those hands to be Thorins'. I hadn't seen him in days, since arriving at Erebor he had become sick. As had our quest. He staggered in to the centre of the room, not realising he had company and looked upon the dead. I saw his hands ball into fists, his shoulders tensed up. Then head hung, all the anger vanished. he stood as silent as the dead who cared little for the passing time. I knew I was intruding on something very personal and private. So I stood up with the sole intention of announcing my presence.
But before I could Thorin wailed out in anger. I stumbled backwards until my back was up against the cold wall, I pushed against it. He stormed over to the other side of the room where the second entrance was blocked by fallen rubble. He grabbed at a rock three times his size and began to pull. When it did not move he let out a roar, punching it, pressing his head up against it, all the while still shouting. I had had enough, I couldn't stand to see him so possessed.
I stepped forward with all my courage, "My lord!" The words were weaker than expected and sounded like a plea, but at least he still heard. The shouting stopped abruptly, my breath caught and the silence of the mountain seeped in to the room once more. His arms lowered from the wall and he turned to face me. His eyes were wide, his body stiff. He looked lost as he searched for something to say. I tried to smile and slowly approached him. He stared into my eyes as he wondered at my intentions. Without thought to my actions I reached out for his hand and took it in mine. My tomb cold hands eased the white hot rage that shook his own. I felt nothing but fear at my discourtesy, but my actions had already condemned me. His brow creased and his eyes never left mine. "My Lord, you must not shout, we must honour the dead with our silence," I whispered.
His blue eyes began to water and Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, king under the mountain began to weep. For so many years he had been my comfort, the most in control, the strongest, the leader of the company.
But the man that stood before me was broken. He hung his head as he cried, with a large howl he dropped to one knee and clung to my legs like a weeping child burying his face into my skirts. To see him like this was as painful as any sword or arrow that was waiting outside the mountain walls. A tear dropped from my face as I kneeled down to join my king. I pulled his head into my aching chest and wept silently for him. After a long while, when he had calmed, I spoke, "My lord..." he didn't stir, so I did something that I usually didn't have the courage to do. "Thorin..." I whispered softly, he slowly looked up at me, his strong facade re-kindled, his face was like stone. "Thorin let's leave, we have disturbed the dead for too long."
We made our way out the room and walked the great halls in silence. As we started heading back to the company, Thorin took my hand and led me a different way, I glanced down at our hands entwined with one another. "Let us stay in each other's company a while longer. I am not yet ready to face the company just yet," his voice was coarse, more so than usual. For the first time since we arrived at Erebor he looked relaxed any trace of his sickness looked long gone. Which scared me. I knew that it might be the last time we had alone together, and that that probably meant more to me than him. I took the opportunity to start talking again. "Where are you leading me?" when no reply came I looked over to him. He looked as if he was contemplating over his destination so I didn't ask. When I realised we were walking in circles it became clear he did not have one. I smiled to myself and looked down again to our hands.
