Hey friends! I am so happy to have over 100 views, two follows, and one review! This chapter is short, but very important.
I know I can't take one more step towards you
'Cause all that's waiting is regret
Don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore
You lost the love I loved the most
~ Christina Perri 'Jar of Hearts'
"Malrin died long ago," Her dark eyes held sadness but Thorin detected a frosty undertone to her voice. He wasn't sure if it was directed to him or if it was directed to the memory. His brows furrowed as he realized what she had said. This woman looked almost exactly like the fire-haired Malrin, her hair was darker and the streaks of blonde were alien, but she had the same aura.
"Haedrin," she gave a curt bow and followed after Bard and his family. The remaining people stated their names and soon the room was ringing with the voices of happy, eating people. Unaware of the two people dwelling in memories from long ago.
xXx
TA 2770
Plains of white and black stretched out from the mountain, like pale fingers splayed out against the stone. Even though the day was bright and sunny, the ground was shrouded in shadow. Smoke rose from the last few fires that hadn't yet burned themselves out, and blotted out the cloudless sky.
A splash of red, the color of blood, stood out against the ashen landscape. This was where a group of figures were headed. Four wore the garments of a healer. Two had bows and swords; fighters. The last one was garbed in the finest clothes; a royal.
It was also the royal who was the first to reach the body on the ground. He knelt and rested his hand upon the figure's pulse. They had been walking amongst the bodies and fire for the past several hours, none of the dwarves they had found were alive, and the men of Dale had fled to a small group of houses on the lake.
"This one is alive!" he exclaimed, causing his companions to hurry to his side. The body was covered in blood, and was feverishly hot. He slid his arms under the figure's body and cradled the small form against his own. The healers nodded to him after checking to see if the survivor was likely to live through the night.
This was the first and only dwarven survivor. The tall figures began walking towards the refugee city, they had inspected every single body, and none and shown signs of life, except for this one.
The person carrying the dwarf looked down into the face of the limp body, the face was young, and even in pain a small smile graced her – for she was indeed female – parched lips.
The small group of homes, was made even smaller by the few human survivors camping along the river bank. The group made their way among the people toward a decent sized house. A young girl opened the door as soon as they reached it and they were all directed to one of the few empty cots. The family that lived in the home had turned it into a healing station, and wounded survivors lay upon the makeshift beds.
The man set her upon the bed as healers came with a basin of water and bandages. His pale hand brushed away the clumps of hair that clung to her bloodied face. A sponge was placed in his hand and he began washing away the blood and ash, from the three long cuts covered the right side of her face. The deepest of the three started between the inner corner of her eye and the bridge of her nose, it extended from her eyebrow, narrowly missing her eye, and down to her jawline. Minor burns covered the lower left portion of her face, deciding the cuts were more urgent, he stood to find some thread.
When he returned to her bedside, he was pleased – albeit startled – to see someone had finished washing her face, and dressed her in a white cotton shift. A roll of bandages was laying upon the little table, and a wooden cup sat steaming next to it.
He carefully threaded the small needle with a wiry string. Beginning next to her eye he started the grueling task of sewing her torn flesh shut. After stitching the cuts he turned to the burns, they were not nearly as bad as his own, but it made him feel like a bond had been made between himself and the dwarven lady. A small jar of ointment was passed into his hand by a healer and he began spreading the green paste on her marred skin.
The sounds of the people outside were quieting as they got settled, found family, and in many cases shut themselves inside to grieve. The sun was just beginning to appear through the smoke and ash, and was lighting up the ground with its late afternoon rays. The tall man stood and opened the windows of the room with a flourish. Light fell across the walls and floor, sending beams of light onto the faces of the wounded.
The dwarf lady stirred in her sleep, her eyes beginning to move under her lids. He frowned, she was not yet supposed to wake, and if she did great pain would be upon her. Sighing, he began to trace his fingers over her burns, casting the same healing and concealing spells on her that had been used on him. Not aware that by doing so he was changing her life forever.
The day was drawing to a close, and silence hung over the refugee city like a thick cotton blanket. The sun had slowly made its decent into the west and was casting long shadows onto the barren ground where the stranger sat. His hard gaze was set upon the distant river that flowed into the lake. He had been sitting there for several hours by the time the sun finally disappeared over the horizon. No signs of movement came from the west, and with a long angry sigh the man stood, stretched his cramped muscles and made his way back to the house where the dwarven lady rested.
Her pale face was completely placid in her sleep, the flickering of her eyes – which had resumed soon after he had gone – seemed to be the only sign of life in her limp form. His gaze was pulled away from her as a loud unearthly roar filled the night air. Rushing to the window he froze as the great beast flew over the scorched ground, lifting the bodies of the fallen in his large claws. Smaug had come down from the mountain.
It seemed fate was against him, for it was that same moment that a confused moan was heard from the cot. He turned and stared down at the dwarven lady, a light sheen of sweat coated her brow. He approached her and began to sooth her face with a cloth he had dampened in water.
Her eyelids fluttered slowly open, and for the first time, the stranger found himself staring into the eyes of the dwarrowdam he had saved.
As I said, short but important, I'm also thinking of changing the title/summary because this is probably going to be two stories and the titles I gave for this one kinda match the other idea better, however I will wait. Please review! It helps me find inspiration and gives me encouragement to continue. I promise next chapter will be longer, as I felt like this was an appropriate place to pause it.
Any if you have any questions, or if you notice any grammar/spelling issues please review!
-Hel