Holy crap people it's been a while! I've been hard at work doing school work and spending time with my boyfriend, I've been neglecting writing! HOW DARE I?!

Chapter 48: Losing Hope

"Well?" Thorin said aggressively, perhaps a little more loudly than intended.

King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm had arrived that morning, promising the last time he had come that he would indeed visit again to review Evelyn's health. While it had been a fair distance to travel from Mirkwood to Erebor, the King of the Lonely Mountain had no time to spare to appreciate his kindness. His mind, slowly unravelling with each passing day, was set on one thing; Evelyn's recovery.

Thranduil sighed, his hand retracting from the girl's forehead. "She is much the same as before, except perhaps a tad undernourished. Aside from continuing to feed her, there's nothing more we can do except let her wake up on her own,"

"But you're an elf!" Thorn spluttered. "Surely there is some sort of magic…?"

"I cannot!" Thranduil said, and even for a moment there he looked as deranged as Thorin did. "I do not have the means to wake her up, and even if I did, it could be dangerous,"

"Dangerous?" Thorin repeated, glancing at Evelyn. "How dangerous?

Thranduil sighed and cleared his throat. "If we attempt to wake her by force, there is a chance she will lose her memories. The only thing we can do is sit and wait for her to wake up and hope that she retained all her memories,"

Amaleen, Evelyn's half-sister, had been sitting silently beside the bed, half concealed in the shadows. She finally stood up and left the room without a word. No one paid much attention to this event, therefore no one knew that Amaleen had left the room to cry.

Presently, Thranduil left the room after a long, mournful bow directed at Thorin. Flanked by two elf guards, he made the journey back to his realm with a heavy heart, knowing full well that he could not easily try and forget the view of poor Evelyn, who may very well never wake up.


Another month passes

It took the combined efforts of all of the former company of Thorin Oakenshield to rouse him from his depressed state, urging him to attend to his royal duties, desperately explaining that a kingdom could not be run on its own. Thorin had been reluctant to leave Evelyn's side, and compromised by asking for some of the others to shift some of his belongings and other such things into Evelyn's room, where he could work and watch over her at the same time.

The others had, admittedly, not been so keen on this idea, hoping that some time spent away from his beloved would clear his head a bit more and revive him from the deranged state in which he had plunged into. It wasn't that they were tiring of Thorin spending every moment with her, they were proud to see their King so dedicated and devoted to her, but they worried for him, and wondered whether he would somehow force himself into a similar deep sleep just to be with her. If that ever happened, the kingdom would fall into turmoil. Fili was nowhere near ready to be King, and neither was Kili.

The King stared at his beloved Evelyn's face, all too aware that her face had become much more gaunt with waxy, clammy skin and dark shadows under her eyes, as if she was tired. It wasn't normal, and he worried for her with all his heart. He could not stop glancing at her stomach, now empty of the growing child, and could not get the image out of his head of blood spewing onto the sheets, which had since then been changed for new, clean sheets while the bloody ones had been destroyed.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Hoarsely, he called, "come in". Dwalin stepped half inside the room.

"Thorin, a meeting has been called between the council members," The dwarf said. Why was his face and voice so grave? Something wasn't right.

He stood up without wanting to. "Stay here and watch Evelyn,"

The king removed himself quietly from the room, watching out of the corner of his eye as Dwalin moved closer to the bed, not sitting down, whether out of a mark of respect or an unwillingness to get comfortable in such a tense climate.

As he trudged down the corridors, Thorin could easily recall that moment when he had stepped back in the mountain for the first time in many years. Floods of memories of wandering these very halls without much of a care in the world, revelling in his royal status and drinking every moment in whenever he was tutored on the ways of being King of the Lonely Mountain by his grandfather, Thror. But now, he found these halls to be cold and foreboding, no such warmth or comfort came from the tapestries decorating the walls that he would once admire with unending pride. He found everything to be dull and without colour. Nothing interested him anymore. Food had no taste, yet he ate regardless.


"… NEVER BEEN SO INSULTED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!"

Anyone in the near vicinity when this had been bellowed would have heard every word clear as day. And it was obvious to anyone passing by nervously that the king was not pleased.

One of the council members, a dwarf with curled eyebrows and a pompous moustache growing under a larger-than-life nose, cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, rings clinking together.

"My lord, we mean no offense by what we say." The dwarf said, who went by the name of Vreshkin Ironbark, "We all understand the troubles you are facing and we all," he gestured to the table, at which five other dwarves sat at, "feel terribly sad for what has happened to your… partner. However we cannot restore Erebor when our king is rejecting his royal duties. I therefore saw it fair and necessary to ask you to step aside and allow someone more suited to the position to take over until you are better,"

"You moron!" Thorin spat. "I am King of Erebor! The throne is my birthright, you of all people should be aware of that fact!"

The dwarf sitting beside Vreshkin, his younger brother as a matter of fact, similar in appearance but with more black than grey hairs in his beard, leaned forward. "Thorin, my brother means no offense. He was merely suggesting that you take leave of your duties and rest until current events change in our favour,"

Thorin was breathing so heavily he might breathe fire any second. He was doing his very best to level his voice, but he found it so difficult to supress his rage. How dare they even think…?

"Listen to me, all of you," Thorin began, but there was a banging sound and the door blew open, not literally thank goodness, but the banging sound that accompanied the doors smashing against the walls was enough to send one of the council falling back in his chair and crashing to the floor with a loud and surprised grunt.

"FILI! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF—?" Thorin began, getting his voice ready to shout at his nephew, apparently still not grown up enough.

"Dwalin sent me! She's waking up!" Fili cried, before speeding back out of the room as quickly as he had arrived.

Thorin's world went eerily quiet for a moment there, and he could feel all eyes trained on him, watching his every move, every breath even. Then, quite suddenly, he found himself snapping out of his daze, and sprinting out of the room as fast as his attire would allow him to, following his nephew.


Fili watched his uncle as he opened the door to Evelyn's room, knowing that his moment was everything for him, that he had dreamed and hoped for this moment to come when she would wake up and bless the world with her smile once more. But Fili couldn't help wondering that something would have gone wrong, that she would not be the same person. What if she had forgotten everything? What if she had changed, and now she was to become a truly evil person? And the baby… how would they tell her that she had lost her child? It would break her poor weary heart, he was sure.

The blond dwarf watched as Thorin gently pushed past his company, making his way to the head of the bed. The frown in Evelyn's forehead had become more prominent, as if she was deep in thought and unable to concentrate. He had recalled that look on her face when she had been in the middle of drawing, and he had missed that look, even if it had been, this time, caused by unpleasant circumstances. He kneeled down beside the bed, and he took one of her hands. They felt so delicate, as if the slightest touch would make them shatter like glass. She was like a porcelain doll, and he was unsettled by this.

"Evelyn…?" He whispered her name hesitantly.


That sweet, sweet music floated down from somewhere above, and I would have closed my eyes and dreamily sang along with it, if there had been no point to closing my eyes in this blackness anyway. Yet I did anyway.

Suddenly, I could see a tiny flicker of something pushing through my eyelids. I opened my eyes, and I was greeted by something light. It reminded me of sunlight, warm and beautiful, yet somehow this was so much better, so much more warm, so much more pure, like golden silk. It was silk, I could feel tendrils of light reaching out to me, folding and twisting in the air, beckoning for me to come forth and show myself.

I felt unbalanced, like a child taking its first steps as I followed that tempting light, the twisting rays gifting me with fleeting touches and caresses, leading me towards the unknown. I didn't know where I was going, but I was unafraid, as the music became louder and louder, until it was unbearable, and then—


"Where am I?"

Cliffhangers must be my speciality!