Khuzdul
Thráin and I ended up staying in Rivendell for about five years. The first year was spent trying to calm Thráin down enough to let the elves come near him, then another few months of coaxing for them to start healing him. The rest of that year and then the year after was when Thráin was healed from his madness.
Elrond spent almost two full years using every healing method he knew to try and rid Thráin of his madness, and while it worked for the most part Thráin would still have days where he reverted back to the state of a grumbling crazy man. Those phases could last from a few hours to a few days. The only way to keep him semi-calm was to put me in the same room as him. For whatever reason he seemed to take comfort in my presence.
Whenever Thráin wasn't in his mad state he would walk around Rivendell to take in the calming sights. Most of the time I would accompany him, and after each walk he would warm up to me more and more. It got to a point where he started talking to me about his likes, his dislikes, Erebor, and on the rare day he would mention his family. As short as those instances were I could still here the pride he held for his children.
During these walks we would sometimes run into other elves who would exchange brief pleasantries with me before parting ways. Each time this happened I would notice Thráin tense up, but since he never said anything about it neither did I.
On one particular walk I wished five different elves a good morning before Thráin turned on me.
"Why do you speak their tongue," his low voice was demanding.
I raised a brow in silent question, but answered anyway, "They taught it to me."
He growled, and for a moment I feared he was reverting to his mad state right in front of me, "Why did they teach you?"
"Well," I knew he needed an answer because this was obviously bothering him, "I lived in Lothlórien for three years, and Lady Galadriel assigned me a teacher to tech me Sindarin. Why?" Why did he want to know?
"I consider you to be a very close friend of mine Amber," it took me about a year to get him to drop the 'Lady', "and hearing you speak the language of the elves…bothers me."
I smiled at his honesty, "While I am sorry it bothers you I am not sorry I know it. Speaking in the language of another's race makes them a little more friendly, don't you think?" Whenever I talked to an elf in Sindarin instead of Westron they seemed a lot happier, and smiled more.
Thráin gave a gruff grunt, and started quickly walking away, "Come." Not sure what was going on I decided it would be wiser to follow him.
He ended up bringing me to the library, and he forced me to sit at a table tucked away in the back corner hidden behind several bookshelves. I hadn't even known this table existed.
Thráin came back carrying a few pieces of parchment, ink, and two quills. He handed me one of the quills while dipping his own in the ink, and he set the parchment down on the middle of the table. He started writing an unfamiliar word, and slid it over to me. He tapped the symbol with the tip of his quill, "This is I."
I gaped down at the paper, "Are you…teaching me Khuzdul?" He grunted. "But–But I though dwarves kept the language to themselves! You can't just teach it to me!"
"Oh?" Thráin raised a cool brow, "And why not?"
"Well because…wouldn't other dwarves get mad that I know?"
"Not if you tell them I was the one that taught you," he pointed out.
"I suppose not, but who would believe me?"
Thráin pondered this before getting up from his chair and moving to the one right beside me. He took a few strands of my hair, and I tried asking him what he was doing, but he shushed me. We sat silently for a few minutes while Thráin busied himself by messing with my hair.
When he was done he brought it forward so I could see part of his work. There was a blue bead clasped at the end that I remembered used to be in one of Thráins own braids. "Any dwarf who sees this braid will know you are a close friend to the royal line of Durin."
Tears gathered in my eyes as I reverently dragged my fingers down the smooth braid. When it fell back against my neck I turned and gave Thráin a tight hug with a whispered, "Thank you."
He returned the hug with equal feeling, and after a couple pats to let me know the hug was over he turned back to my Khuzdul lesson.
The last two years in Rivendell were spent learning new words and phrases in Khuzdul, watching Thráin slowly start liking the Rivendell elves (though he'll never admit it), and playing pranks with Elladan and Elrohir.
Unlike Sindarin it was much harder for me to learn Khuzdul. Nobody besides Thráin spoke the language, and he didn't want me speaking it in front of elves until I was comfortable conversing in the language. By the end of our fifth year I was able to speak enough Khuzdul to get my point across, but I struggled to hold a conversation.
"Why do you want to leave?" My words were halting, but eventually I got my question out.
Thráin nodded approvingly, and I knew the words I'd used were spoken correctly, "I cannot stay in this elf infested city any longer."
He spoke slowly do that I could understand what he was saying, but there were still some things I didn't know. I was thankfully able to get his point. "I thought you liked Elrond?"
"Yes, Lord Elrond is one of the better elves, but being here, surrounded by all of this…nature. It is suffocating."
Says the dwarf who likes living inside holes dug in the ground, "I don't mind leaving, but can we come back one day?"
He nodded, "Of course. I know how much these elves mean to you."
During one of our more heartfelt talks I told Thráin that I had been a part of the Azanulbizar, and I spent my time healing in Lothlórien. The elven Forest became my second home, and I felt the same way about Rivendell. When he found out I disliked Thranduil and his kingdom he gave a hearty laugh, apparently happy that Thraduil was the least liked elf.
When we announced that we were leaving during dinner with Elrond and his family the twins once again dramatically begged me to stay. Naturally I refused their wishes while Thráin just watched in with amusement. Apparently the troublesome duo reminded him of his own two sons, Thorin and Frerin.
Thráin ended up falling into a week of madness, preventing us from leaving right away, but once it passed he demanded we leave the following morning with no recollection of what happened to him. It wasn't surprising since he usually never remembers his time while going mad.
We were back on the road as soon as possible with Captain once again accompanying us wherever he went. The stubborn horse wouldn't let either of us ride him, so we were stuck riding Rochael together.
While Thráin was happy traveling with me he still wanted to be amongst his kin, which I completely understood. After spending so much time with one race you tend to yearn for the company of your own kind.
Naturally Thráin wanted to be reunited with his family after learning that his sons survived the Azanulbizar. I told him they would either be in one of the dwarves settlements, or traveling across Middle-Earth in search of work. If I remembered correctly it was said that Thorin travelled around cities as a blacksmith.
It was decided that we would check Ered Luin for his family first, and after weeks of traveling we finally reached the mountains, only for Thráin to fall into another bout of madness. I waited for him to snap out of it for a good five hours before dwarves were seen rising toward us in the distance.
Not wanting them to see their lost king in such a state I hoisted the both of us on top of Rochael and galloped as far away from the mountain as possible. The dwarves followed us for a few miles before they fell back to Ered Luin.
When Thráin woke from his madness a few days later he grew angry when he found out I had taken him away from what might have been his future home. Nothing I said could calm him down, and he eventually spiraled back into his madness. He kicked and screamed at me, and I was forced to draw my sword to defend myself.
Thráin paused at the sound of my sword being drawn, and I foolishly thought he would calm down enough to get back on the horse, but instead he turned around and bolted.
I cried out in shock and tried yelling for him to stop, but he either didn't hear me or ignore me. I urged Rochael to run as fast as she possibly could, but Thráin was somehow able to stay ahead of us.
This chase lasted a day before Thráin finally collapsed. I rode up beside him to see he had curled up on the ground and was sobbing. The sight sent a bolt of worry through my heart, and I slid out of the saddle to pull the fallen king into my arms.
We spent hours holding each other until he finally calmed down enough to tell me how sorry he was, and that I was right to have taken him away from Ered Luin. I tried denying his claims but he shushed me. Apparently he came to the realization that because he could fall into madness at any moment he was unfit to reclaim a seat in the throne. He saw himself as a danger to his people, and if I was the only one that could help him through those times then he needed to stay close to me.
Hearing him admit such horrible thoughts made me want to cry, but nothing I said could change his mind. I playfully cursed the stubbornness of dwarves as we climbed back into Rochael's saddle.
After that we were always careful to steer clear of any dwarven settlements. He was even weary of going into a city of men, but I dragged him into a small village so he would realize that his madness wouldn't be triggered by anything. It was enough for him to at least spend some time around other people, but not for very long.
Most of our time was spent traveling through the wilds, which was where all of our interesting adventures took place. We ran into dozens of orcs, a mountain troll or two, and the biggest elephant I've ever seen in my entire life. Though in Middle-Earth their known as oliphaunts, or mûmak.
To prevent getting trampled on by the gigantic mammals we climbed up the nearest mountain until we were safety out of reach of their trunks. It was up there that we found the nesting grounds of Manwë's eagles. The situation was growing weirder by the minute, and I got a good look of the giant birds before morphing into one.
The first time changing into a new animal was always the most painful, but I needed to get the both of us down safely. Flying as a giant eagle was our best bet.
My feathers were a reddish-orange just like my fur as a horse or a dog. It was definitely different from the darker brown feathers of Manwë's eagles. So different that the Eagles seemed intrigued by the color, and to get away I had to quickly pick Thráin up in my claws and free fall from the mountain side before I was able to work out my new wings.
That experience was when I decided it would be better for us to travel to a more peaceful place, and what's more peaceful than the rolling hills of the Shire?
We rode alongside Captain while on the back of Rochael, but when we were only halfway to the Shire Captain refused to get up. I searched him for any signs of a wound, but when I couldn't find one I looked at Thráin in confusion. He was looking at Captain with soft, sad eyes.
"What's wrong with him Thráin?"
He set a calming hand on the horses neck, "Captain is an old horse my dear. He is only going through what everyone eventually has to."
During the middle of the night while we were all asleep Captain, my companion for over sixty years, succumbed to the demon that was old age. We spent another day mourning over his body, but we eventually had to continue on for the Shire. Rochael showed no signs of leaving Captains side, and with no other choice we strapped the saddle onto the back of my horse form and continued that way.
Our riding time was shortened as I had to get used to the sudden weight attached to my back, but I was eventually able to carry both Thráin and the saddle over longer distances.
Before entering the Shire I warned Thráin about the hobbits tendency to act nice, but talk about you behind your back. He took the information in stride, and soon enough we were riding into the Shire with me in my horse form and Thráin riding in the saddle. I would be a pony, but the saddle was made to fit a horse.
Just like I said the adult hobbits put up a kind façade, but once our backs were turned they (loudly) whispered condescending insults. I internally applauded Thráin on his restrain because I could feel him tense with every insult thrown.
And just like the last time I travelled through the Shire by myself the fauntlings crowded around the two of us with excited shouts. The sight of children, even hobbit children, had Thráins rough exterior melting away. He thoroughly enjoyed his time running around the green Shire hills, and I contented myself with laying down in the grass to let the little kiddies put braids in my mane and tail.
As it turns out one of those fauntlings wasn't a fauntlings at all, but was actually a certain Belladonna Took. A very familiar hobbit lass who begged Thráin to let her travel with him, and she he looked to me for my opinion I just nodded my head. Of course this made Belladonna hug my head against her chest and give Thráin puppy eyes, "See? Even your horse wants me to come."
Thráin and I shared an amused look, and once she got permission from her parents we set off for Rivendell. I figured that would be the best first place for an adventurous hobbit to go, and when we were done there we could travel back to the Shire.
Belladonna had quite the surprise when I changed from a horse into a human. She thought it was the most amazing thing ever, and asked constant questions.
Luckily for Thráin he never fell into madness while in the presence of Belladonna, but he did for a short time while in Rivendell. Thankfully while we were there he could hide out in his room while I covered for him.
Elladan and Elrohir thought Belladonna was the cutest creature in existence and showered her with affection. They weren't the only ones to react that way, and we had to practically drag the young hobbit out of the city.
Belladonna became some sort of hero in the eyes of the Shire fauntlings, and I feared how the older hobbits would view her. I confessed these fears to Thráin, and he calmly reassured me that everything would be just fine, and we could always check on her in the future.
I forced myself to calm down about the topic because I knew she would end up marrying Bungo Baggins and have little Bilbo.
It was when we were leisurely making our way south when everything went wrong.
The fire was slowly dying out and I knew I needed to go and collect more firewood, but I didn't want to leave Thráin alone. He had gone into another state that day, and I was hesitant to wake him up.
My hesitance was soon burned away when a group of orcs came crashing out of the surrounding trees. Their screeches and my screaming was enough to jolt Thráin awake, and from what I could tell he was conscious enough to pick up his own weapons and fight back.
At first it seemed like we were going to win, but four out of the seven left suddenly lunged for me. They wrestled me to the ground, and when I was restrained two of them helped hold down Thráin.
We looked each other in the eye and did our best to reassure the other, but our eye contact was broken when another creature walked into the clearing.
Sitting astride a white warg was an equally white orc. His left arm was missing from the elbow down, and in its place was a metal claw stabbed through the joint. When he jumped down from the warg it was easy to see that he reached about seven feet in height.
My voice was stuck in my throat, but Thráin was quick to give a feral growl. "Azog," the name was spat with such venom I was surprised the pale orc didn't fall where he stood.
Azog barred his teeth in a parody of a smile, "Thráin, son of Thror. Oh, how the mighty have fallen."
Thráin spat on the ground, "Rot in hell beardless scum!"
Even though Azog couldn't understand what Thráin said he still laughed mockingly. The pale orc turned his attention onto me, and spotted the braid adorning the right side of my head. "So the dwarf filth has found a partner."
I sneered at the pale orc, "Careful Princess, your jealousy is showing."
Azog snarled at me, and it only took him four quick strides before he was holding a sword to my neck. To my satisfaction his hand was covered in teeth marks from when I bit him at the Azanulbizar. "Watch your tongue dwarf whore," he trailed the tip of his sword from the edge of my left eyebrow down to the right side of my jaw. It was the same place as the scar I gained from the Azanulbizar. It wasn't the prettiest thing to have on ones face, but I wore it with pride.
"Get away from her you shit-faced bastard!" Thráin was struggling against the orcs holding him down, but it was no use. All he managed to accomplish was gain Azog's attention. Something nobody wants.
"You put on a brave front dwarf, but I can smell your fear. It rolls off of you in waves," he suddenly licked his pale lips, "I can practically taste it." The orcs holding us down all snickered to themselves.
"Prepare yourself, son of Thror. I've hunted you for years, and now that I've caught you I won't let you get away so easily." The orcs restraining Thráin laid him down onto his back, and Azog kneeled above him. "I cut off your fathers head, and now," Azog began sinking his sword into Thráins chest, making him yell profanities between screams of pain, "I will cut out your heart." He began dragging his rusty sword in the shape of a circle. "You should know that your sons and nephews will meet the same fate."
Tears were falling in rivers down my face, and I released such an anguished scream that Azog paused in his torturous murder to look over at me. He was met with the sight of the small woman throwing off his men as if they were nothing.
The sight of me running towards him must not have been that terrifying since he just smiled at me, but that look changed when I went from a charging human to a charging polar bear.
His look of surprise would have been comical had I not been drowning in grief.
My large form slammed into Azog, and it sent him flying off of Thráins body. His sword was left sticking out of Thráins chest.
I would have mauled the pale orc right then and there had his warg not rammed into me. We were sent rolling across the ground. Feral growls echoed through the clearing as we circled each other. We snapped our jaws, snarled, and ignored the lines of saliva dripping from our lips.
The warg moved first. He clamped his jaws on the loose skin around my neck, and I pushed myself against him to bring us into a standing position. As a bear this gave me an advantage. I had better balance on my back legs, and I could easily bring up my front paws and scratch them down the wargs chest and stomach.
When he howled in pain I was able to wrench my head away, and clamp my own jaws around his neck. I had a better angle then he did, and sunk my teeth into his jugular.
I pushed him backwards, and when his back hit the ground my weight went into the paw that was pressed against his chest. I could feel his bones give way beneath my paw, and with one last gurgled whine the white warg died beneath me.
I unclamped my jaws, and looked up to see Azog wrench his sword out of Thráins body. He was glaring at me with such hatred I half expected to drop six feet under. But as it were I just gave him the bear equivalent of a grin.
Azog yelled something in Black Speech, and the other orcs scattered back into the trees. Azog stayed behind to give his dead mount one last lingering look before glares get at me hatefully, "I will take great pleasure in cutting off your head, dwarf whore."
The pale orc disappeared into the trees like the rest of his kin, and I stood there panting for a few moments before my motor skills kicked into gear and I shifted into my usual form. I ran towards Thráins fallen form and dropped to my knees.
I placed shaky hands on top of his chest. The area where Azog carved his sword was bleeding profusely. He had cut deep enough, and far enough, that I wouldn't be surprised if a few main veins attached to his heart had been severed.
"You're gonna be okay," I choked on my tears and failed to swallow my sobs, "You'll be fine."
A soft, shuddering breath escaped Thráins parted lips, "You know I hate it when you lie to me my dear."
I coughed out a laugh and sucked in an uneasy breath, "Dont leave me Thráin, please. I don't want to be alone."
"How many times…" Thráin coughed up blood but stubbornly continued talking, "…have I told you to call me father?"
I remembered back to the first time he asked me to call him father. We'd grown so close during our travels I'd begun to see him as a father figure, and when he found out he grew so overjoyed he re-braided my hair to make it so that it was clear to any dwarf who saw that I was an official member of the Durin royal family.
"Many times father," I sniffed, "Many times."
Thráin started nodding, but he suddenly began choking on an obscene amount of blood. He tried saying something, but it was lost. He seemed to realize I couldn't understand what he was trying to say so he brought up his pale, shaking hands, and slipped off his ring.
He took my hand in his and pressed it against the beads in his beard. I still wasn't understanding what he was trying to tell me, so he pressed the ring into my palm, and wrapped my fingers around the beads.
"You…want me to take your beads?"
Thráin closed his eyes in peace. Apparently that was exactly what he was trying to tell me.
"I can't take them they're yours!" I tried pleading with him to keep the beads. They were his, they told stories of their own, but he would have none of it.
"…dying…wish…" He opened and closed his mouth several more times in an attempt to speak, and I leaned forward to catch the last four words he would ever say.
My hand gripped the front of his tunic until my knuckles turned white. I shook with gut wrenching sobs and pulled Thráin into my lap while tilting my head to the sky and screaming for Aulë's forgiveness while cursing Eru.
I buried my face into Thráins scratchy hair and slowly rocked back and forth. Begging for him to wake up and pleading for this to be a dream.
Unfortunately this nightmare would never end as I looked up to see the suns rays peaking over the treetops. I released another shuddering breath before shifting Thráin onto my back with his arms over my shoulders. In this position I was able to change into the form of a great eagle, and he would be safely positioned on my back.
I extended my wings in preparation to take off, but a fluff of white caught the corner of my eye. The white warg, now covered in its black blood, was staring at me with dead eyes. I slowly stalked forward on my giant claws, and wrapped my talons around its limp body.
With a bit of a struggle I was slowly able to lift myself into the air, along with my heavy cargo. I aimed north, the opposite direction Thráin and I had been traveling from the previous afternoon, and slowly made my way towards Rivendell.
The only thing allowing me to carry on, with such a broken heart and shattered spirit, were the four words 'I love you, daughter' playing over and over in my head.
AN: I just killed Thráin, and let me tell you I almost cried a little bit when I started writing their conversation together. But I'm good, for now :'(
P.S. If you didn't figure it out then the four words 'I love you, daughter' were the last four words Thráin said.
