Chapter Forty-Five: Belladonna
T.A. 2882 Bag End
Bluebell is two when Frerin visits for the first time since Belladonna's initial letter to him before her daughter's birth. They have exchanged many more in the two and a half years since and, finally, he has agreed to come and see the life that Belladonna has built for herself. Bungo isn't happy, he rarely is where her letters to Frerin are concerned, but he wants her to be happy and so accepts that she wishes to keep her friendship alive. It has taken this long, but Frerin is passing nearby and has agreed to visit for a few days.
Belladonna cleans and bakes as she never has before, then sets up the guest bedroom, which has been unused for so many years, with glee.
"He'll disappoint you," Bungo keeps warning, and maybe Frerin will but Belladonna can't help but hope he won't. She's missed him too much.
He arrives just before dinner, as promised, his clothes richer than they were all those years ago. There are extra braids in his hair, too, which is neater than it was. He's armed, naturally, but she's heedless of the weapons as she throws her arms about his neck, embracing him tightly and relieved when his arms snake around her and he pulls her as close as he can. She's missed his strength.
"I feared you would change your mind," she breathes.
"Never, Bella," he assures her, then his face falls as he looks over her shoulder. "Bungo."
His tone is polite, but Belladonna would be a fool if she thought that the pair could ever become friends. She hopes for it, but she has long learnt not to rely on hope. Her husband's greeting is just as cold and their daughter picks up on it, clinging to his trousers with pudgy fingers and staring uncertainly from behind her father.
"Bluebell, come here, I'd like you to meet someone," she says as she closes the door behind her friend. Frerin carefully sets his belongings aside, swords included. Bluebell, her natural curiosity coming to the fore, totters out from behind her father and stares up at Frerin with wide eyes. He crouches, though her daughter still appears so tiny and fragile before him, and smiles. "This is your Uncle Frerin," Belladonna says.
"Hello, Gehyith," Frerin's voice is soft and he holds an exquisitely carved and painted horse out to her, "I've been looking forward to meeting you."
Bluebell snatches the figure from Frerin's hand, examining it in such a serious way that Belladonna sees Bungo in her where before there was no sign of him. Then her daughter laughs in delight.
"Cuddle," she demands, holding her arms up. Frerin lifts her daughter into his arms with a gentleness Belladonna knows most assume dwarves incapable of.
"She's beautiful, Bella," he says, still holding the faunt. She sees the moment when Frerin loses his heart to the little girl in the way his arms tighten just a fraction. "You must be so proud, Bungo," he adds. There's no antagonism, just a simple olive branch.
"We had hoped for a boy," Bungo replies and her hope that their differences can be set aside for a time is shattered.
"No," Frerin says, "she's perfect."
T.A. 2941 Erebor
Belladonna has run out of tears to cry in the hours since Frerin and the others left the relative safety of the mountain to fight alongside their kin. She isn't sure how long the battle has been waging, only knows that she had spent the hours (or minutes or days) at the beginning sobbing while Kili stood awkwardly nearby. The dear lad had, eventually, offered what comfort he could, and she thinks that one day he will make some lucky soul a wonderful husband. It was clear that the action was unpractised and didn't come naturally, but he had tried.
The rest of the time they have spent watching. She's numb, now. The orcs come in wave after wave, pushed back by the smaller numbers of Men, Dwarves and Elves, but it's clear they cannot win. Erebor and everything around her will fall to their enemies and there is nothing more to be done. Even were Fili and Bluebell here they would be out there fighting, Kili with them, while she waited for word of retreat or loss. Waiting as she is now, to hear of the demise of everyone she loves and cares about. It will be the final blow, she thinks. Bluebell is gone, lost who knows where, and Belladonna has no hope that she will be as lucky the second time as she was the first.
Her daughter is gone, her husband lost among the horde. She still has the baby, her hand rests on the barely noticeable swell of her abdomen as she thinks. She'll fade, eventually, it was inevitable as soon as Frerin followed his brother out of the mountain, but it won't happen until her faunt is weaned and old enough to be cared for by someone else.
"I never imagined battle could be like this," Kili says, his voice distant and face drawn and haunted.
He's as lost as she is. His uncles are fighting, his brother gone. Belladonna remembers how he was in the goblin caves, unfocused and desperate. Fili and Kili are so close, close enough to make her wish she had given Bungo a second child. Perhaps another babe would have eased the pressure her first husband put on their daughter. Perhaps it wouldn't.
"I never thought I would see something as terrible as Azanulbizar again," she replies. "Let us pray the outcome here is better than it was there."
"I should be out there," Kili says. "Frerin should be with you."
"You don't want to be out there," she tells him. "Frerin already knows this horror and he always told me he would spare you it, if he could. You have so much ahead of you, Kili."
"Not without Fili," he disagrees. "We always said we would go together, if it ever came to it. I should be with him. I won't be a good king, Aunt, if we win this and Thorin falls I'll have to take the throne, but I won't be a good king. I'm not Thorin, I'm not Fili."
"You'll do fine, if it comes to it," she reassures him. "Your mother will help you. Frerin has told me so many stories about her. I wish I could have met her."
"You will, once the mountain is ours."
He doesn't mention the possibility of going to the Blue Mountains if the battle is lost. With the number of orcs and goblins around them they would never make it out of Erebor and they both know it, she can't work with the stone surrounding them as her daughter would have been able to. Instead she slides down the wall to sit on the floor and he follows, resting his head against her shoulder. She runs her fingers through his wild hair (Belladonna doesn't care that she shouldn't he needs the comfort) and he lets out a broken sob. He's been strong, so strong in the face of losing his brother and being forced to wait for an impossible victory. She won't keep him here, once his tears have run their course she will see if the tide of the battle has turned. If it hasn't, if defeat looks inevitable, they will both join the forces outside. Better to die with her sword in her hand than wait to be slaughtered as a prisoner by enemy forces.
They sit together, hidden by the wall and it muffles the sound of the battle below, the screams and the clash of metal. She doesn't dare look over the wall, there is a chill beginning to settle in her limbs and she doesn't know if it is the air, the stone or something worse. Kili doesn't move, just leans against her and takes deep, shuddering gasps as he gets his emotions under control.
"I think it might be time," she says finally.
They can't stay here, and the chill is seeping deeper. Kili looks at her with dark eyes so like Frerin's it makes her heart hurt, then he nods and gets to his feet, offering her a hand to help her up. The blast seems to come out of nowhere, knocking them both from their feet and leaving their ears ringing and vision swimming.
When it clears Belladonna looks up.
Bluebell and Fili stand in front of them, surrounded by six indistinct forms that seem to glow. They look different, healthier than they have since Mirkwood, and it isn't just their physical appearance that has changed. It's their clothes too. Bluebell's dress cannot possibly be warm enough, sleeveless and gathered in an empire waist, light fabric that pools and floats in shining emerald with blue flowers embroidered on it in vines. The colours of her life-light. Fili, similarly, wears the colours of his. A tunic in muted orange and a coat of pale velvet trimmed with shining silver fur. There are new braids in his hair, one is a braid with stone clasps that shine like the Arkenstone (though she only caught the briefest glimpse of it) and when she looks closer, she sees a similar braid in Bluebell's hair too.
"Fili? Bluebell?" Kili is the first to speak.
Both look at him and their eyes are nothing more than the glow of that cursed stone. Empty seeming and Kili takes a step back. They turn away again.
"This cannot be," Bluebell speaks and three of the figures speak with her.
"Agreed," Fili and the others say. "We are not for them, we are for our Chosen."
"Agreed," is the reply. "We must stop this."
"Agreed."
Belladonna shrieks as a sphere of light surrounds them, expanding ever outwards in an unstoppable wave. It leaves warmth in her, filling her with energy as she hasn't truly felt since Bungo died, her mind clear and easier than it has been in almost forty years. When she dares to look over the wall, however, she isn't sure whether she is thrilled or horrified. Dwarves, Men and Elves stand tall and unharmed, surrounded by the bodies of the dead. There is not a single living orc in sight, their bodies lie twisted and burnt.
"Come to us, King Under the Mountain," all eight speak as one.
They turn and walk together, Bluebell and Fili's hands clasped tightly. None of them notice Belladonna and Kili following them into the throne room where the group halts before the broken throne.
"This is your task," Bluebell speaks with the voice of seven. "Let Algirk guide you. Repair what was broken so that none may forget."
She releases Fili's hand and he lifts it, palm up, to reveal the Arkenstone. Tendrils of rock grow slowly from the shattered column, reaching towards those gathered until they touch the Heart of the Mountain. Kili pulls Belladonna back, his expression awed, and she hears him whisper about stories. It takes time, but slowly, so slowly, the column begins to reform, cradling the Arkenstone within it. At some point Belladonna hears running feet and feels Frerin at her side. She hears Thorin's amazed exclamation and an unfamiliar voice demanding to know what is happening.
"We are repairing that which was broken," Bluebell says and three speak with her.
"And we are making certain it can never be erased from history again," the others add as Fili twists his wrist and a gold lattice snaps into place over the Heart of the Mountain, leaving it visible and protected in it's stone mount. There are runes around it, writing that Belladonna can't read, though she knows the dwarves can.
"Who are you?" The unknown dwarf demands.
"We are Erebor, Dain, son of Nain. But we are also Liliana and Amethyst, Rose and Bluebell."
"Algirk and Var, Naal and Fili."
"Our names are written in stone, our souls live in the Heart of the Mountain."
"We kept you safe, and you repaid us by forgetting us."
"You cut us out and mutilated us and so we drove you away."
"We have been persuaded to forgive and allow a second chance. You, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, have your own task in this."
"Listen to our voice in this generation."
"Rebuild the old alliances."
"Remember the truth and pass it to the ones who follow."
"There will be no more chances."
The light around the young couple fades, the ghostly figures vanish, and the pair stare and sway for a moment before collapsing.
"Does someone what to explain to me what, in Durin's name, is going on here?" Dain demands.
A.N: Remember, dearies, all magic comes with a price.
Also, Gehyith: Little Dove.
This section was also among the earliest I had written, in fact I pretty much wrote the end of the story as soon as I had written the first chapter. We were always going to end up here.