Chapter title taken from Replace me by Andrew Belle.
IV. cause we've all fallen for someone we're wrong for
An amused smiled danced across her lips, and from the far end of the room, her eyes met Gandalf's. His smile closer to a smirk, pipe secured in the corner of his mouth, shaking his head in amusement.
The merry sound of the dwarves' song filled the warm room, candles burning softly in every little niche and corner. More than once, she had to pull her head out of the way of yet another dish as it flew across the room, the sound of plates and bowls clinging against each other, creating a rhythm so lively that she felt a tingle in her legs, a sense of comfortable, excited restlessness.
There was the lingering taste of good wine and fine cheese, soft bread and ripe tomatoes on her tongue, and the feeling of a full, satisfied stomach brought a wave of tiredness upon her. Rarely did she find herself longing for a soft bed and the promise of a hearty breakfast, her mind usually too occupied to even spend a moment wasting her time on such hopes. In this moment however, as the dwarves' melody came to an end, she looked upon the baffled expression on Bilbo's face as he saw the cleaned and stacked dishes, she found herself longing desperately for a shelter like this.
Three harsh knocks on the front door brought silence to the room, everyone's heads turning towards the hall. The pleasant drowsiness she had felt made way for a rush of anxiety which had followed her all the way into the Shire, clinging to her like a leech, never letting go, always there in a dark corner of her mind.
He is here. Gandalf's words were calm and clear, pointing out the obvious, and yet they brought with them a sense of reality, as if his announcement completed the scene that unfolded in front of her.
As everyone made their way towards the door, lead by Gandalf who looked more tense than she remembered him ever looking, her eyes caught the eagerness spread across he dwarves' faces. It was an eagerness she understood, yet could not share. Nine years had passed since she had last seen Thorin. And while Gandalf had never decisively confirmed her expectations, she knew very well that her presence would merely be endured by Thorin. Not wished, not asked for.
Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. A grey shimmer wound itself through his dark hair, like streams of silver through deep rock. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door. She noticed the smile on his face as he greeted his nephews, and despite the dull ache she felt coursing through her blood, it came as no surprise when he took no notice of her.
She wondered once more why she had agreed to Gandalf's wishes, why she had come along against her better judgement. Neither gold nor jewels sparked any interest inside her, for in the dark and depth of the woods, they were mere pebbles along the way. The lost kingdom of the dwarves was of no significance to her, either. No more than any other crown that ruled Middle Earth. And, breathing in deeply as she took in poor Bilbo's exasperated expression, she knew very well that no gratefulness, no forgiveness for deeds never done would be granted.
Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar. A mingle of deep laughter erupted from the gathering, and as Thorin lead the way through the sitting room without another word to Bilbo, his eyes only briefly met hers – void of any emotion she could decipher in the flicker of the candlelight.
For a short moment, lasting no more than a handful of heartbeats, she stood motionlessly in the doorway. The slightly hurt expression on Bilbo's face caused pity to grow inside of her, yet she doubted Gandalf insisting on bringing the hobbit along as much as Thorin's remark had suggested.
Perhaps, however, she was just as misplaced, a lost soul wandering the woods, grasping at the flickering hope of a quest that would bring her no peace and no future.
. . . .
five months later
Silver edges digging into her skin. Sapphire dark against her pale palm. Reflecting the moonlight and stars. A million lights scattered across the calm lake.
Where are you going to go? Voice hesitant. Almost fearful, the waves of grief building a high tower.
Back to where I came from. The darkness of sapphires a mystery. Almost as pitch black as the night sky. Full of secrets.
Where is that?
The wilderness. That is where I belong.
I don't think Thorin would have wished for you to return to that.
Thorin wished for a great deal of things, Bilbo. I am not certain I was ever... A single tear running down her cheek, lost in the darkness, like a diamond in a sea of stars.