Chapter 14
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its inhabitants belong to the great JRR Tolkien, not me!
Sêla followed her sister as she stood from the bed, moving toward the door—obviously headed for the dining chamber, where most of their family discussions took place. Father shook his head.
"Nay, lassies, but we will speak here first. Please, sit."
Both girls did as requested, sinking onto Sêla's bed while Father settled himself on Anora's, mere feet away. He smiled at them both, studying their faces.
"The news I have may grieve you," he began. "But I think you will see the benefit of it very quickly." Sêla felt herself go cold all over, while a pit of dread settled in her stomach.
Oh, I am not going to like this.
"Sêla," Father addressed her, the look on his face nothing short of adoring. "My lovely youngest. I have found you a suitor."
I was right.
Father's pronouncement met absolute silence. Sêla could barely breathe, could hear her heart beating loudly in her ears, felt heavy and lightheaded all at once.
Fíli…
"What?" Anora's near-screech made Sêla jump. She looked over, wondering when her sister had stood up. Anora's fists were clenched, her eyes blazing, teeth bared. She looked like an overprotective mama bear protecting a cub. Father sat back, staring at his eldest daughter, astounded.
"Anora, sit down!" he ordered. She didn't, not immediately, but after a minute she obeyed; settling closer to Sêla this time, her frame practically vibrating with tension.
Oh, namad.
"His name is Baren, son of Baren, Third of That Name; he is a wealthy Lord in the Iron Hills and he is very—"
"The Iron Hills?" Sêla squeaked. Mahal, but she had just settled in here, with her family, and now he wanted to cart her off to the Iron Hills to live with complete strangers?
Father looked sympathetic. "It is not far, Daughter. Your mother and I—and Anora, when she has time—will visit often. And Baren has three sisters—three!—so you'll never be lonely for company. I know it seems frightening—"
"I'm not marrying Fíli."
Complete silence again. Sêla would've laughed if her world hadn't just been turned upside down.
"What?" Father turned his attention to Anora, completely shocked. "Why not? You grew up with the lad, I thought you loved him…?"
"I do!" Anora protested. "I love him dearly, Father, as my friend, and that might have been enough for me to be able to have a life with him, except that…" she petered off, glancing at Sêla.
Father's eyes widened. "Except what, Anora?"
"Except that I've been in love with him for ages," Sêla answered, quietly. "Since long before they left for Erebor."
Father said nothing, just stared, his gaze shifting between the two girls as if expecting the whole thing to be one grand joke.
Well, this was not what I had in mind when I intended to break it to him gently…
"And he feels the same, Father, we…" Oh Mahal. "We wish to court properly and marry."
Sêla chanced a look at Tefur, heart thumping when she noticed his gaze go dark.
"He has claimed your heart already?"
Sêla looked to Anora for help. Her sister nodded once—I'm here, namadith—and Sêla took a deep breath.
"Yes."
Father stood abruptly, and Sêla leaned back a little to see his face. His eyes were focused on the distance, his jaw clenched, a flush making its way up his neck and into his face. Sêla had only seen him like this once before, and it had not ended well for the lad who angered him so.
She shuddered.
"The whelp went behind my back to steal my youngest?"
"No, Father—" Anora tried to interrupt.
"Silence!" he roared. "I was wrong about him, so very wrong. Fíli and Kíli grew up beside my family, good lads, honorable lads. But clearly something has changed, and not for the better."
"We meant to speak to you as soon—" Sêla cut in.
"But you did not." Father wasn't even shouting now, his voice a well of quietly controlled fury. "So be it. The lad shall have nothing. Come, Sêla, Anora; it's time to meet Baren. You will go with him tomorrow, Sêla, and your sister and mother and I will follow in a few weeks, as soon as we can arrange to have our things packed up for the trip."
No. No no no no…
"Father, please!"
"I am sorry, let me get him, we'll make this right—"
"Silence!" Father's gaze was hard and cold. "It is too late, Sêla, you are Promised already. Not another word, from either of you. Come."
Kíli's dark eyes popped open on the edge of a gasp. He sat up quickly, blinking at the dizziness that assaulted him before steadying himself and looking around. His mother looked up from the book she was reading and smiled.
"How do you feel, my son?"
Kíli blinked again, noting with some surprise that he did actually feel better. His head ached less now that there weren't horrible scenes of death painted on the underside of his eyelids; and his chest didn't feel like someone was squeezing the life out of it with every breath.
He was even hungry.
"Like I could eat a whole boar," he replied, and was rewarded when Dis smiled brilliantly.
"Well then. Let's see if we can arrange that, shall we?"
Kíli managed a smile for her and threw aside the covers, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and hopping down to the cold floor. The shock felt good against his warm skin.
Something was different, though, he could sense it. He was more rested, certainly, felt better than he had in weeks; but he didn't know why. Curiously, he probed at the nub in his mind that he knew connected him to Ryn—perhaps something exceedingly good had happened to her?
But no, all he felt were echoes of fear and doubt.
His poor lass. He wanted to hold her so badly his heart positively ached. He needed to touch her, see her, hear her voice.
Soon, he sensed.
Still wondering about his feeling of well-being, he explored his memory. Had he had a good dream? But he found he couldn't really remember; there was a fuzzy impression of majesty and infinite wisdom, and three words rang in his head, spoken in a voice deep and soothing.
It is time.
Then a quick vision of Ryn beside him, fire pooling in her hands and ice in his.
Then nothing.
"—Kíli?" his mother was asking. The Prince startled, coming back to the present.
"Mother?"
She looked concerned, stroking his cheek gently. "I asked if you're feeling all right. You swayed a bit on your feet."
"Ah, yes," he hastened to assure her, taking her hand and kissing it gently. "I am well. Just the echoes of an odd dream."
"A night terror?"
Kíli wasn't sure how to answer. "No no, not exactly. Just...I feel...different. Stronger, I suppose." Dis smiled at that, and Kíli answered with one of his own. "Thank you."
Dis wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. "For what, my son?" He didn't answer, only held her tightly against him, grateful beyond measure for her comfort.
She needed no answer.
After a moment, though, she pulled back. "Come now. We should get you something to eat. And inform Fíli of your state. In fact," she bustled away from him, straightening his tunic and smoothing his hair down. "We shall do both at once. Fíli likely hasn't stopped to eat either, so we'll get food and go to him."
Kíli just smiled—a natural, genuine one this time.
He counted it a small victory.
Dearest Ryn,
Please forgive me for what I am to do in only moments. I am not abandoning you, nor am I rejecting you or Talos; you both have given me what no one in the world—save my parents—have, and that is companionship. Love, without boundary or condition. You have been everything I lacked these past ten years, and for that I can never truly thank you properly.
But I can save you, and that is why I must leave. It is too dangerous for me to be near either of you, my very existence is a blight upon your quest. Kíli is depending on you, Ryn, to see this through; and I'll not stand in your way, deliberately or no...
Ryn stuffed the letter back into her leather corset as she heard Talos stir behind her. The sun was rising in a riot of color to her left, the silent peaks of the Misty Mountains rising sharply to her right, cobalt in the morning light. Talos stumped off to a nature call, and Ryn sighed softly, sharp eyes watching for any unnatural movement.
She hated that Elof's letter sounded like a final goodbye. It was bad enough that the lad had run off on his own, deliberately placing himself out of her reach, or that of the elves, or anyone who could help him.
Worse still, he seemed convinced that his situation was hopeless, that it was permanent.
Ryn refused to accept that. As soon as Kíli was whole and hale, she was going to find Elof and help him, too. Certainly, the young Man had suffered as few ever do; and needlessly so, ten years a prisoner. He likely remembered very little of what it was to be a free man, even.
But she was not a descendant of the Master Healers for nothing. Together with Elof's mother, who he had told her was still alive and happy outside Edoras, she would help him come to terms with his young adulthood and learn to move on. She would mend whatever damage had been done to his mind, to his body, to his spirit; and she would live to see him set his grandchildren on his knee.
This she swore.
"Morning," Talos muttered, flopping down next to her, his back against a felled tree trunk. Ryn spared him a small smile and handed him a cup of hot tea.
"So it is, nadadith. Did you rest well?"
He grunted an affirmative as he sipped the tea. "Mahal, I cannot wait to get back to Erebor," he muttered. "At least there they have coffee."
Ryn rolled her eyes. "The elves were very gracious to give us stores; you should be thankful."
"I am," Talos quipped. "But I'm also craving something richer than this herby, minty tea."
Ryn chuckled slightly as she banked the fire, stirring the embers with a stick and scattering them loosely, stomping out any live ones she could find. "I do miss dwarvish cooking," she admitted. "We'll have to get Bombur to make us a stew when we return."
With a slight jolt, Ryn realized it was the first time in months she had given any thought at all to After. After Kíli was healed, after they returned home, after Melkor was defeated.
There would be stew, and laughter, and warm nights wrapped up in her beloved's arms…
And her wedding.
She almost smiled again. There was to be a wedding. With friends, and family, and everything she never thought she would have…
But no.
First she had to reach Fjallstadr. First she had to open the Vault…
Elof's letter came to mind again, like a punch in the gut.
You must open it alone, Ryn, I am sorry. I had planned to do it myself, keep this burden from your already-laden shoulders, but I cannot. It is too dangerous for me to be near. You must open the Vault. I know what it means to ask this of you; but it is Kíli's only hope.
"How much further south do you think we ought to go?" Talos' voice interrupted her ruminations before her mind could take her somewhere from which she'd have trouble returning. Blinking, she gave a thought to his question.
"Two days, if all goes well," she answered slowly. "The forest is not far. Then we turn west."
Talos nodded. "Then we turn west."
Hundreds of leagues north, two elves—one flaxen-haired and one fiery—ducked silently into one of the many caves in the side of the Grey Mountains. Scat, blood, and remains of dead things had led them here, and still led them onward. Deep into the mountains they ran, in an effort to identify a threat.
Tauriel looked at Legolas when they met the first torch in the wall, crude and filthy, but effective.
They had reached the orcs of the North.
A/N: Thank you for reading, as always! You guys seriously rock. Things are going to pick up even further from here, we're coming into the Endgame-though it will last a good while, the setup is such that there's going to be more and more cliffhangers for you guys.
Sorry I'm not sorry. :P
Meanwhile, please hop over to the profile summerandblue and check out my joint work with summerald (who has incredible talent and great stories on her own profile!), a fixit!BOFA AU called Wayfarers. This last chapter was one of those where I finished it, took a look, and decided I was actually really proud of what I'd just done-and believe it or not, all chapters don't feel that good.
Thanks again for all your reviews and follows; they are fuel for my writer brain!