Date: TA 2941
Thorin: 195 years old
Lina: 192 years old
The sun peaked over the horizon, hitting Lina's closed eyes far too early for her liking. She growled slightly in annoyance, burying her chilled face against her husband's shoulder and pulling the furred cloak tighter around her. Summer's warm mornings were rapidly giving way to autumn's frosty bite. She didn't like it.
After a long moment, she convinced herself to move from the warmth of the bedroll she shared with Thorin. Though she did not wish to, she knew she had to leave him today. Her joints groaned in protest as she stood. The scars all across her body were stiff, making moving difficult. She cast an envious glance at her two younger nephews. Both were moving smoothly and without any hint of the aching pain which had begun inhabiting Lina's body of late.
That's when it truly dawned on her: she was getting old. Her eyes flew to her husband. For the first time, she noticed the grey streaking through his dark hair. The lines of laughter and worry alike had deepened over the years. Balin's hair had gone white so slowly that it never occurred to her that he had aged a day since the Battle of Azanulbizar. Dwalin's battle-scarred face seemed more weathered and beaten to her as she realized just how much time had passed.
Bifur's head appeared to pain him to the point of distraction right now. He stumbled over a tiny stone, nearly pitching headlong into the fire. Only Bombur's massive girth saved his cousin. Oin's gnarled hands trembled as they attempted to feed twigs into the growing flames. The cool morning air stiffened his joints.
Numbness suffused her body as she looked around her. With the exception of Fili, Kili, and Nes, all of the dwarves on this mad venture were beyond their prime. Had they not the scars and wounds from the Battle of Azanulbizar, perhaps the age would not show as it did.
"What's wrong, my love?" Thorin asked, resting his hand on his wife's lower back. "You look worried."
"Nothing," she answered quickly, shaking her head. "It's nothing. Just woolgathering."
Lina flashed her husband a smile, hoping to mask the fear growing within her. For one hundred years, Thorin had successfully led the dwarves of Durin's line, at least those in Ered Luin. He was respected and feared among the other clans. His judgments were rarely wrong, though sometimes a bit hastily made. Yet the sense of foreboding she'd felt since Thorin first mentioned the journey to Erebor only grew more with each passing day. The realization that such an arduous task was being taken on by aged warriors only deepened it.
Thorin was certain of success, so Lina said nothing. Her worries would only agitate him. With another smile, she touched his cheek gently before turning to pack her bedroll away. He had enough weight on his shoulders without her fears adding to the burden.
The camp slowly dissolved, leaving only piles of packs lying in a place their owners could take them up easily. Lina and Nes joined Gandalf as they prepared to make their way back to the Misty Mountains. Their mood, like that of their males companions, was subdued. That the assassin was as saddened by the parting of companies as her leader, surprised Lina.
"I'm afraid it is time to say goodbye," Gandalf announced gently. His gaze swept over the quiet dwarves. Even he seemed saddened, though Lina knew he was eager to be on his way.
The linebreaker embraced her nephews, whispering a few words of advice and encouragement to each. Balin and Dwalin gave their long-time friend a hug, Dwalin holding her tightly as he always did.
"Stay safe, my friend," he whispered gruffly.
"You as well," Lina answered. She smiled at him. They had been friends and battlefield companions for so many years that it seemed strange to be parting company, unsure of ever seeing one another again. Dwalin took a step back, allowing Thorin to reach her.
Lina buried her face against her husband's neck as he held her. For a moment, she allowed herself to be lost in his familiar smell. It comforted her, being enveloped by his arms. Her fears ebbed as she allowed herself to believe that everything would turn out as they hoped. His lips brushed over her cheek, coaxing her face towards him until their mouths met. The pressure of his lips and the rapidity of their movement told Lina he was as desperate and frightened as she.
After a moment, he pulled back slightly, resting his chin gently on her head. His larger frame closed around her almost completely. In his embrace, she was safe. It was how she longed to stay forever.
"Return to me soon, Lina," Thorin murmured against her forehead. His breath was warm as the words fell from his lips.
"I will never be far," she reminded him softly, "We can at least see one another in dreams."
Lina smiled up at him. Her husband's lips twitched upward into the slightest of smiles. Some of the light returned to his blue eyes, and, for one brief moment, the fear and worry lurking in her thoughts fled. Things would turn out right. They had to.
The two female dwarves waved last farewells to their male kin as they began their retreat to the Misty Mountains. The tension at the parting finally dissolved when Thorin's company disappeared from view. Lina no longer felt as strong a pull to run back to her husband's side. Her dark dreams and Fili's fears faded from her mind as she focused on her own mission: find the rest of her companions.
The trio made good time, covering more distance before sundown than they had with the rest of the company. They were no longer trying to prolong the inevitable. The inevitable had occurred and it was now time to move on. The destination was no longer Mirkwood's edge, but Kira's fortress.
