It gets worse before it gets better...
Recaap:
"Lostoriel?" he asked uncertainly as his fingers skillfully twisted the strands together.
"Yes Thorin?"
"We're going to have to speak about it sometime, we cannot go on ignoring this." Thorin paused his efforts, feeling and seeing her sit up straighter and stiffer. " The Company deserves to know what would happen if we should encounter your kin. You deserve to know what occurred in the days following your death. Especially after-"
He did not finish his sentence. Lostoriel abruptly spun to face him, her mouth twisted somewhere between a scowl and a grimace of left hand twitched on the table, her magic pushing and pulling itself away , the white hot pangs of pain shot up her bones and she blanched as it traveled through her shoulder and into her skull. Out of now where a wave of distrust and anger swept through her mind, she had done well to hide it these past few days, to keep her biting tongue in check, but now it reared its ugly head.
"Especially after what Thorin? What more is there to say? What more do you need me to know?" She was on her feet now, her voice quiet but no less intense. Thorin's face was inches away from hers but he could feel waves of anger radiating off her. "I rode to Erebor after the Woodland Realm signed off all treaties except for our allyship. I hoped your grandfather would see reason, however all he craved to hear was the clinking of gold. Then the dragon attacked, and you left me to die! That is all there ever was and ever will be to this tale Thorin!"
Thorin recoiled in horror, his chest heaving as he pressed himself against the wall. He searched her eyes for any sign of comprehension, any sign of the companionship that had existed between them only moments before. Of all that she had said one thing struck him like a bolt of lightning in his heart. "What do you mean left you to die!?"
The elf did not spare him a second glance, instead she stalked down the stairs and out of the barn.
Thorin followed her out into the garden. He was not angry, no, he was disappointed and hurt. Hurt that she would think he did not care about whether she lived it died and that she thought that he held her friendship as being worth nothing.
"Lostoriel," he called as he squinted through the light of the setting sun.
"Lostoriel wait! Please!" he called again, making out the blurry image of her body as he jogged to cover the distance between himself and the tree she stood under. Her back was turned towards him, but he could feel the fury radiating off her, he could see it in her set shoulders. Thorin took a deep breath, trying his best to stay calm, "What do you mean by left you to die?"
She spun around and jabbed a finger at him, Saruman's cruel words in Imladris played in her mind, "You damn well know what I mean Thorin Oakenshield. Before the dragon swooped down on me, breathed out a furnace. You made a promise that you would come back! But you didn't!" her voice rose with every word, hot tears welled behind her eyes and she forced herself to push them down. "So, pray tell Thorin, what is so damn important that you just have to tell me?"
"That is not true Lostoriel." he stepped forward to take her hands wanting to explain but she recoiled. Thorin was highly aware of the fact that her hand hovered just above her knife on her belt.
"You know that is a lie! The gold swept up in a wave and you ran! You abandoned me!"
This time he glared up at her, searching for some sign that her words were void. His flared and a fire raged in his eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was no less intense,
"Durin's beard Lostoriel, I did not abandon you to a death by fire! You told me to do whatever it takes to get my people to safety. Do you not remember? Because I clearly do!"
Thorin's baritone voice cracked and dissipated into something Lostoriel could not comprehend, "You were swallowed by a wave of melting gold Lostoriel! I watched Smaug breath one last wave of fire, I heard your agonized scream and ran. I knew you didn't stand a chance."
"Oh please!" she spat, bristling in indignation. "Stop playing victim Thorin!"
Thorin knew that he had been right in saving his people, he recalled clearly how Lostoriel had earnestly told him to do everything in his power to save his people and himself. He could understand why she felt so resentful, he had promised her that he would come back.
In his mind he was back in Erebor, struggling to keep his grandfather from blindly running into the hurricane of gold and treasure that Smaug kicked up with every swish of his tail. He could see the blurred image Lostoriel through the roaring flames of dragon fire, standing with a Dwarven shield in one hand, her sword in the other, her hair singed, and clothing and skin ripped in half a dozen places.
The same leaden guilt and sense of duty that tore him in half that day haunted him again. The flames were too high, the floor was covered in a lack of steaming hot gold and she was in the middle of it with the dragon bearing down on her. Thorin had known that she would not stand a chance and deep down he held that the elf he had once known would have seen no fault in him saving
"Playing victim!" Thorin was incensed and it poured out through his rising voice, "I am not doing anything like that Lostoriel Thranduiliel! I thought you were dead! Do you honestly think I wanted to leave you there?" he pushed back the sleeve of his right arm, exposing the faded burn marks that stretched from his fingertips, up his forearm and disappeared under his sleeve.
Neither of them noticed the heads peeking out of the barn doors, or the eyes that watched them from afar, having been drawn back to the house by their raised voices. Nor how Fili laid a firm hand on his brother's shoulder, knowing that Kili did not know about their uncle's burns, their mother and Thorin had kept it from him since childhood to protect the sensitive being that was Kili.
Lostoriel inhaled sharply as she took in the scars he had received on her behalf, she was rendered speechless as he spoke softly, "I did try...To run into the flames... If it weren't for Dwalin holding me back I would have come, I would have run into those flames to save you even if it would have been the last thing I do. You and I both know that I do not so easily abandon those I love!"
Then the sun disappeared behind the hills and the moment was lost, "All that was recovered of you from the mountain was your cloak, burnt to a crisp which I took back to your father to ask for his forgiveness for letting you die. For years I could not live with myself for not saving you." He stepped forward closing the small distance between them, "So tell me, are you angry with me for leaving you or with yourself for failing to kill Smaug, because the Lostoriel I once knew would never question anyone's decision in saving their people."
Thorin's chest heaved up and down as he realised the gravity of what he had just said. He couldn't think, couldn't move, he could only watch as emotions he couldn't discern flitted across her face and she gaped at him.
This time it was Lostoriel's turn to step back not barely registering most of what he had said for the fact that he had almost died saving this time she had been infuriated with him from the first moment she had overheard Gandalf reprimand him in Imladris for acting like an exceptionally rude arrogant ass to when he didn't want her travelling with them and then to that night in the cave when she had remembered him leaving her to die. Maybe she had been wrong in blaming him for her death. Lostoriel had not allowed herself to think about whether she blamed herself for all those dwarves dying, for decades she hadn't been able to face the fact that she was never coming back home, that she had her blade embedded in the dragon's scale less side but had been too weak to push it in any further and now of truly not knowing where she fitted in the world bubbled to the surface.
To Thorin and their onlooker's astonishment Lostoriel laughed a dry, humourless laugh, "You're right. I'm not the Lostoriel you remember, in fact I barely remember who she is too Thorin. Perhaps I am wrong in blaming you for my death, perhaps I am wrong in joining you on your quest, because you were right in what you said before we entered the mountains. The world has since changed so drastically and there are things I don't know," she hastily wiped away the tears from her cheeks, "other than seeking revenge on that slug I don't know what I'm even doing here. We're to travel through I home I don't belong in, to a people who have mourned me, to my family who I barely know. You don't understand what it's like, to be in a world that has long since forgotten me and I who I am in it all! Every time I close my eyes all I can see is Smaug bearing down on me."
Unconsciously she rubbed her arm, soothing the dull ache in her bones, in the moment she looked and sounded as old and weary as the mountain's themselves. As if she was just about ready to give up. Her cheeks were gaunt, the rings under her eyes were sullen and dark and all Thorin saw was the years of heartache and brokenness that she had endured.
"I haven't been able to sleep in weeks because of it. The pain... is indescribable and I am so ... tired of carrying it," she whispered, running her hands through her hair, "I'm tired of hearing that voice each time my memory recalls me coming back here and...I don't know why it keeps happening, I don't...What if we fail Thorin? What if we fail to kill him? What then?"
Thorin wanted nothing more than to engulf her in his arms, to reassure her that all would be alright in the end. He watched helplessly as she stood in the dim evening light crying. He hadn't known that she carried such a weight upon her heart, he had noticed that she hardly rested at night, she would stay up at all hours poking at the fire or taking the watch. And now, watching her crack, Thorin wished he could take back every single harsh word he had spoken to her, every action. He shared her fears. Thorin knew that if they failed to kill Smaug they risked the thousands of lives of those who lived around Erebor and the entirety of Middle Earth. It didn't matter anymore who had left who to die, she needed a friend and a friend was what he would be.
"Lostoriel." he said gently, his features reflecting nothing but concern and love as he reached up and took her hands away from her face. But Lostoriel snatched hers from his and stepped back, hastily wiping at her eyes and glaring at him. Thorin's heart sunk to the ground.
"Do not touch me." she practically spat at him, though the anger never met her eyes. Thorin knew that she was not angry with him any longer, but at herself.
Lostoriel's words dripped with spite and she regretted them the moment they left her lips, "I do not want your sympathy Thorin, I do not want your friendship. You say you don't know me anymore, but I can say the same to you. Never mind my words at the Carrock but you are merely a shadow of the dwarf I once knew."
Thorin stiffened, ignoring the tears that slid into his beard and the intense tugging lungs. He felt the of anger shout rising from his belly, but by the time it reached his lips nothing more than a puff of air escaped his lips, "The elves are not the only ones who mourned you, my lady."
The dwarf turned on his heels, only now noticing the dwarves who had been listening from afar thinking that they had been discreet. Wisely none of them uttered a word not daring to mention the way Thorin pressed his hand on his mouth as he briskly walked around the barn and out into the front garden where he would have some peace.
At a cough from Balin they all scattered, returning to what tasks they had been busy with before. The old dwarf was torn between comforting Thorin and Lostoriel, but he had long since learnt that two head-strong people like them would need a good long while to let their anger die down before they would speak.
Lostoriel had allowed herself one last moment of crying before she strolled off into the cold, strong wind, letting the metallic earthy scent of incoming rain settle into her. She didn't want to be alone, but knew it was what she deserved. She hadn't intended to hurt Thorin, she hadn't intended go even consider that she may have been more angry at herself for failing to kill Smaug than foolishly thinking that Thorin for leaving her to die. Lostoriel had been so occupied with the thought abandoning her that she had not considered that maybe, just maybe Thorin had tried to save her.
The clouds closed overhead, and the thunder rumbled in the darkness, Lostoriel squinted at the sky as the first autumn rain decided to pelt the earth. Lostoriel slowed her walk, letting the rain soak into her clothes. She didn't think she deserved any better, things between Thorin and her had not been on the best of terms, but they had been slowly returning to how they once were. And now after they'd taken ten steps forward, she had pushed them back so far that she didn't know if he'd ever forgive her. It hadn't only been that he said that he didn't know who she was anymore, Thorin had said that he loved her.
As she flopped down onto the steps of the stables Kili's words from the archery field in Rivendell echoed in her mind, 'he has no reason to judge us for doing so, our uncle thinks that we don't know what he keeps from us.' Everything was starting to fall into place. Though it did not excuse his arrogant behaviour, she understood his actions and for once had no idea what she was to do about this.
"Tell me young elfling, do you think it wise to be hiding in a tree in this weather?" Gandalf's voice jolted Lostoriel from her brooding. The tree rumbled beneath her as she hit her head on an overhanging branch and cursed loudly. A whipped out at Gandalf with a thunderous crack and Lostoriel winced as she heard his exclamation of fright, followed by a loud yelp from Sunflower.
"You missed supper and left poor Sunflower lying in the rain waiting for you!" the wizard squinted up into the rain as he made out the lithe form of the elf concealed in the unravelling cocoon that the tree had woven around her. The Company and Beorn had given the elf and their leader a wide berth for most of the evening, it hadn't taken Gandalf long to discover what had transpired between Lostoriel and Thorin. In fact, Bofur, who was never one to not know the latest gossip wherever he went, had been the first to tell him. Bilbo had been second in wanting to comfort his friend, but Gandalf had advised against it knowing that it would be better if she had someone familiar to speak with.
Lostoriel gingerly rubbed at the pebble sized lump that had risen and peaked between the branches. There in the dim, amber light of the lanterns that dotted Beorn's garden was a soaked and thoroughly miserable looking Gandalf standing in a halo of silver light that emanated from his staff. Beside stood an equally as soaked and matted Sunflower. The wolf whined mournfully, guiltily reminding Lostoriel of an abandoned puppy. Lostoriel hastily reddened and turned her eyes away from Gandalf, hating how he frowned up at her from beneath his bushy eyebrows. She had been a recipient of that glare in the past, however it made it no less easy to stand, or hide away from the wizard, knowing that his hard eyes would follow her wherever she went.
"Well, are you going to leave me standing here in this deluge being soaked to the centre of my old bones, or are you going to come down? And if that's not reason enough, there's a plate of hot food awaiting you and," he added with relish, knowing that the only reason she'd willingly remove herself from the Oaktree was food, "Bilbo has just helped Beorn bake a batch of honey-glazed cinnamon rolls."
The elf had intended to stubbornly spend the night in the tree that she had yet again awoken. She had to stop herself from cracking open, analysing and then re-analysing every word that had passed between Thorin and her during their fight. However, now that Gandalf mentioned the fresh, warm cinnamon rolls her stomach growled painfully and she was won over. Without a moment's hesitation the tree unfurled a long, thick branch and the elf lightly hopped off it, landing in the muddy ground with a loud squelch.
"Elflings never change." She heard Gandalf mutter under his breath, the wizard was now thoroughly miffed at having to had firstly search for her in the pouring rain that soaked right through his thick robes and down into his socks. The wizard spun around and began to make his way back to the warmth of Beorn's house, now more than a little disgruntled at the icy, stiffness of his wet feet in his drenched shoes. Gandalf huffed, next time he was going to leave her in the tree and seek out a fire for himself first.
Sunflower pounced on her, the wolf's entire body rumbled as she whined and licked Lostoriel's hands that quickly became wet and dirty from the mud, grim that clung to the wolf's fur. The wolf whined again, this time stretching up to try and lick Lostoriel's chin to ensure that her elven companion was uninjured.
"I'm alright girl, I think." Lostoriel scratched Sunflower behind both her ears and smiled at the creature that clung to her legs, "Come on, let's go before Gandalf has both our heads."
When the elf pushed open the kitchen door her senses were assaulted with a wave of warmth and the savoury scent of roasted chicken and vegetables from the plate of food that sat beside a grumpy looking Gandalf. Lostoriel, still standing in the doorway, removed her muddy boots and left them beside the sink. Ignoring the fact that she was sopping wet she sat herself down at the high- backed kitchen chair and dug into the food with relish. Relishing in every forkful of succulent chicken and juicy bite of aromatic carrots, butternut and sip of the unfortunately warm fruit juice.
Gandalf watched in amazement as she cleaned off the last bit of chicken from her plate and finished the last dregs of fruit juice in less than twenty minutes. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly she inhaled her food, whatever courtly etiquette she had learnt as a child had clearly worn off. Then again, thought Gandalf as he released a small plume of smoke, the rules and expectations of being royalty only applied to her when she chose it would. Lostoriel noticed him watching her and became rudely aware of the food that had escaped onto the corner of her mouth. She hastily wiped it away, hoping that that Gandalf hadn't noticed.
"What is it Mithrandir?" she asked when his frown deepened, "Do I have something on my face?"
Gandalf nearly choked on his mouthful of smoke, he coughed out a plume of blue pipe-smoke as he attempted to cover his observations, "What no, there's… certainly…nothing on your face! What gave you that idea?" Then he gave himself away by looking meaningfully at her spotless plate.
The elf pursed her lips and poured herself another glass of wine from the silver pitcher between them. She was enjoying the various degrees of fear, embarrassment and regret that flitted across Gandalf's wrinkled face, turning his cheeks and ears a rosy shade of red that darkened with every moment. Her frown deepened and if it was possible her eyebrow rose even further up her forehead.
She pulled her plate towards her and then stared Gandalf down, looking like a child caught in the act of misbehaving, "Don't judge me Mithrandir, I grew up with Legolas, Thalion and Renieth. Or a pack of stomach- less bears if ever there was such a thing. It was eat or starve and one learnt to fill oneself before any of them had the chance to stick their paws in one's food."
"If it is as you say, though I'm sure Beorn would agree that you share the same characteristics as a young bear when you eat, Princess."
It was true, Lostoriel could not deny it. Though travelling with thirteen dwarves and a hobbit who usually ate seven meals a day had done nothing to help improve her situation. There had been more than one occasion when the idea of throwing Bilbo off a cliff made her fingers itch whilst he complained endlessly about his aching belly. Just as she thought of them a loud roar of laughter erupted from the other side of the door.
"Sounds like they're having quite the time over there."
Gandalf cocked a grey eyebrow and smiled out the corner of his mouth, "I believe that Beorn is rethinking his first assumptions about the Dwarves, the cask of ale they've already finished has no doubt played a significant role in his loosened tongue." He waved aside the thought and set his pipe down, whatever mirth danced in his demeanour dissipated into the sullen atmosphere.
"Now about what happened this afternoon-"
"I don't want to talk about it Gandalf." Said Lostoriel with a deep sigh, leaning back in her chair and staring at the roof.
Gandalf's expression softened and he reached for her hand, covering it with his own. Lostoriel didn't take her hand away, however awful she felt she was grateful for Gandalf's presence. In her long years the old wizard had become more than just a wandering acquaintance who came and went as he pleased, no, Mithrandir had become a grandfather or more wise uncle-like figure in her eyes. She saw where this was going before he got there.
"Lostoriel, I'm not asking you to speak of what you and Thorin…Discussed… That is entirely between you both. I know that you had no desire to speak of your memories, but since it has burdened you to the point where you can no longer sleep it would do you well to talk about this Lostoriel." He looked at her earnestly, "You're of no use to anyone including yourself travelling through the deepest parts of the wilderness half-conscious because you haven't slept. I only say this because I worry for you and want to see you come from this quest unscathed."
She sat there looking anywhere but at Gandalf for a long while, weighing the pros and cons of telling him about what she had been seeing. Until finally she relented, if there was anyone who could tell her what was happening in her head it was Gandalf. And he was a far cry from the dreary, shifty nature of Saruman. Lostoriel took a long sip of the fresh juice and sighed, knowing that speaking about it would help.
"Alright." The elf crossed her arms and shifted into a more comfortable position before plunging into the depths of her ordeal.
The week following Lostoriel and Thorin's spat had been tense and uncomfortable for the entire Company, including Beorn. The Dwarves had been at a loss on how to approach either of them on the subject, or how to approach them in general if they were being honest. Thorin had been less talkative and more brooding than usual, he threw himself into assisting the rest of the Company in making preparations for the next leg of their journey and barely allowed himself to so much as say anything beyond a 'good morning' to Lostoriel.
His hesitance radiated off him, along with the sour mood he had been in for the first few days. All except Dwalin and his nephews had given him a wide berth, they had never seen Thorin so vulnerable, nor had they seen him in such a state of fury. As much as they wanted to help him, they knew that the quarrel was between him and the elf and that they had no business interfering in the issues of their king.
Lostoriel on the other hand had opted to act as if nothing had happened. At least that was what she hoped to do. Her somber demeanor that slipped through the facade of 'normalcy' did nothing to ensure the Dwarves or Bilbo that she was alright. Most of them had avoided her for an entire day after seeing her decimate one of Beorn's target boards and then proceed to sharpen her sword until it gleamed with the sharpness of a bear's claw.
Bilbo and Gandalf seemed to be the only two who could break through her numbness and away from helping Beorn in the garden. She was up before dawn on most days, though they were all sure that she still hardly slept. The dark rings around her eyes and the sallowness of her skin told them as much. But still she chose not to rest, her confessions to Thorin and his to her weighed heavily on her heart and she needed space to process everything.
Though her state of withdrawal from them ended abruptly when Dori and Bilbo had burst into her room one afternoon armored with a sewing kit and a plate full of freshly baked ginger snaps, which according to Gandalf had an unusual calming effect on Lostoriel. And to their luck it had worked, until Lostoriel had managed to prick herself on the straight pins that Dori had skilfully stuck into the over-sized clothing that Lostoriel had borrowed.
That had unfortunately diffused into Lostoriel storming off into the bathroom to change back into her travelling clothing and Dori raising an unimpressed eyebrow and loudly expressing his frustration and wonder at how the Elven seamstresses who had to deal with the princess survived their encounters. Which is how Lostoriel ended up spending hours sparring with Fili and Kili, until she decided to go and help the dwarf mend their clothes for the rest of their journey.
It was now the day before they were due to leave and the harsh clanging of metal against metal rang throughout the gardens. The hard task of preparing arrows, food and packing their luggage for the next day was complete and today the company decided was perfect for lounging around the garden, smoking their pipes and watching Bilbo attempt to disarm Lostoriel.
The Hobbit and Elf had spent countless hours in the garden with their swords after most of the Company, Gandalf included, decided that Bilbo needed a little, no, a lot more practice in his sword skills if they were to journey across into the Wilderland under such perilous conditions.
The wizard and Beorn had impressed them with the need for constant vigilance as they traveled through the open plains and forest. Fili, Kili and Dwalin, a surprise to them all, had volunteered to help train the hobbit, the latter mainly wanting to see if their burglar would be able to withstand the stroke of his mighty axes.
Bilbo rushed at Lostoriel, thrusting upwards with his sword and stepping into the stroke, almost impaling her in the chest. The elf deflected his sword with ease as she parried the blow and brought her arm in a wide circle to jab him in his side with the long knife that Fili had miraculously produced out of some hidden pocket some days earlier. The hobbit jumped back, thinking he had warded the elf off only to be pushed backwards again as she stepped into her next blow and hit him on the wrist with the blunt side of her sword.
"Ow!" he cried, dropping his sword and nursing his injured wrist. Bilbo scowled at her. They had been practicing for over an hour and he was beginning to tire, "What did you do that for?"
"Why weren't you paying attention?" Lostoriel stood with her fists on her hips and raised an eyebrow at him.
"I was very well-paying attention thank you very much!"
Bilbo had progressing, at the pace of an old horse attempting to climb uphill whilst being burdened with luggage, but it was progress none the less.
"If I were an orc you would be both hand-less and dead," the elf scolded him, knowing that he would need to just be aware of his surroundings. However, she also knew that it took hours and hours of practice to do so and softened her expression.
"She's not wrong laddie." Agreed Beorn with a solemn nod from where he leaned against a fence post that formed part of the horse pen. Beside him, Sunflower enthusiastically barked her agreement, eyed out the Hobbit and how close his sword was to the elf and hen continued her circuit through the groups of Dwarves.
Several murmurs of assent rose from the Dwarves who had not dozed off in the warm autumn sun. They had been watching him fight their elf and their three best warriors over the past week and though Bilbo showed vast amounts of courage in his fighting, they could not help but wonder if he'd actually survive in the wild.
"Ten coins says he'll miss the next stroke." mumbled Dwalin to Nori, neatly side-stepping Sunflower. He had no fondness for the beast, and it seemed that Sunflower felt the same way when she eyed him out, saw him as a boring figure without any food and kept on running. Dwalin watched until the wolf was near Kili and then turned his attention back to the training session. The fierce warrior had become fond of their burglar, his homely nature was a calming presence for the old dwarf, however his fighting skills. Well that was something only time would tell. Nori shook his head and grimaced, "Twenty says he stays on his feet this time round."
Lostoriel overheard their conversation and flashed a glare at the pair as she went to pick Bilbo's from the ground and handed it back to him. Why the Dwarves thought so little of Bilbo was something she barely understood. They were all fighters and should have known that no one became a master swordsman in under a week. It took hard work and time to build such skills, which is why they had decided to stick to the very basics of swordplay.
As he took the blade from her hand, Bilbo noticed that what was a heavy sword for him sat in her rough hands as nothing more than a long knife. His stomach twisted painfully and suddenly Bilbo knew why the Dwarves had been so concerned about his safety and prowess in battle.
Fili stepped into the wide circle, his broadsword catching the light as he spun it in one hand, "You've got to be aware of your surroundings in a fight. Ask yourself where you are and if there's anything you can use to defend yourself. Sometimes it could be the difference between life and death." He waited for comprehension to flash in Bilbo's eyes before he continued, "Alright, now let's go over the steps from Twainday. One, three, four!"
Bilbo gritted his teeth and lunged at Fili, thrusting his sword to the left, then right and then bringing it in an overhead stroke that would have stabbed Fili in the chest. Fili anticipated the move and countered it with a simple stroke to the left which sent Bilbo stumbling backwards. But the Hobbit was nimble on his feet and managed to strike another two blows at Fili, gaining more confident each time Fili called the stroke.
"Quit flappin' ye' arms like that! You look like a hatchling learning how to fly!" Called Gloin from his perch upon the grass. Again, Sunflower barked her agreement and Bilbo twisted back to flash them an annoyed glare that didn't stop Gloin from laughing so hard that he snorted. Bilbo disliked the brisk, almost cold way that the Company treated him when it came his vigorous lessons. Although, he thought as he parried a stroke aimed at his stomach, for all their bluntness at least the Dwarves were honest with him. Brutally, painfully honest. But honest none the less. Unconsciously, Bilbo rolled his shoulders back and mimicked Fili's open, slightly crouched stance as they began fighting again.
As the pair fought their way around the open space, Lostoriel thought back to her conversation with Gandalf from the day of her fight with Thorin. Gandalf had sat and listened as she shared what vivid memories of her battle with Smaug, then of the waterfalls she had seen open under her feet in RivenDell and then upon the Carrock. By the time she had told him about the soft, familiar voice that sang the lullaby she had been taught as a child, the fire under the stove had burned down to a smolder and Gandalf seemed every bit as confused as she was.
"Surely Lady Galadriel knew of this? Lostoriel? Goodness me," Gandalf had grumbled thoroughly unimpressed with the fact that she had missed half of what he had said, "You would think I was speaking to the walls themselves!"
Lostoriel knocked over her glass at Gandalf's exclamation. The glass rotated on its bottom, threatening to spill the remainders of the juice onto the clean table. The elf yelped as she caught it just as it tipped over and sploshed all over her hand, "OH sorry Gandalf," she wiped the spilt liquid with the kitchen towel, apologising the entire time. "Forgive me Mithrandir, I got lost in my thoughts."
Bilbo's sword fell to the ground with an echoing clang and several sacks of gold were discreetly exchanged between the dwarves as Fili patted Bilbo on the shoulder and assured him that given enough time they would make an excellent warrior out of him. The hobbit thanked him and then proceeded to sink gratefully to the ground, practically inhaling the large glass of water that Kili brought to him.
The Hobbit felt like giving up for the day, or maybe forever. He was surrounded by thirteen born and bred terrifying warrior dwarves, a wizard and an elf, both of whom were trained with a sword before his grandmother had been a thought in her mother's mind. Surely, he would be safe. They would never let him die.
It was again Lostoriel's turn to train Bilbo. She smiled warmly at him, unsheathing her sword and long-knife. "Remember, always have poise when you're fighting Bilbo," the elf straightened into a tall, proud stance: her feet were a shoulder's length apart, her shoulders rolled back, her sword hung at an acute angle at her side, almost like how a ballerina would hold out a curved arm and her other arm, the one with the knife pressed against the forearm, hung just above her midriff. "Think of yourself as a dancer."
Bilbo corrected his slouched stance, "Like this?"
Seeing her stand like that Bilbo had to admit that he never saw any correlation between dancing and fighting, but now he saw it clear as daylight. The hobbit straightened himself out and tried his best to proudly jut his chin out as she did. For all Lostoriel's apparent grace and poise, Bilbo couldn't help but feel that he was about to fight a vicious bear.
"Exactly. Now, one!" she called and in one fluid motion brought her sword up from her side, cut the air between them and managed to tap his shoulder. Bilbo did not let panic settle into his mind, calmly he raised his sword at parried her blade where the blade met the hilt. A resounding clang rang through the garden and Lostoriel nodded approvingly.
"Good now position two!" This time it was Bilbo's turn to attack. He stepped into the stroke, remembering to step a little to the left as he did so to get into the shorter range of Lostoriel's knife. He thrust he blade forward, but never got close to Lostoriel's stomach when the elf parried his blade and managed to flick her knife towards his exposed side.
As they fell into their familiar pattern Lostoriel's thoughts strayed back to her conversation with Gandalf. The wizard had no other explanation for her sudden visions other than the fact that it could just be her memories of her last moments, waking up in the small English town and then returning to Middle Earth. To them both it seemed like the only logical explanation.
Bilbo parried her undercut stroke with a surprising amount of ease, so Lostoriel upped the stakes by attacking him with a wide over-head strike and brought her knife soaring towards his chest.
"Remember to get into her space Bilbo! You're small use it to your advantage!" she heard Fili call from somewhere behind her. As her sword lightly tapped Bilbo's curly hair, she quickly changed the target of her knife and with one flick at the crosspiece of his sword, sent it flying out of his hands.
"You can do this Bilbo." her tone broke no argument. She believed in her newfound friend's ability. Bilbo was much more stronger and courageous than he gave himself credit for, he had saved her life more than once and when he was in the heat of a fight, she knew that he would hold his own. As the Hobbit retrieved his sword her thoughts floated aimlessly in her mind. Gandalf had no logical explanation for the familiar, female voice nor the lullaby that echoed in her memory as it did upon the Carrock. It was an ancient song, from her mother's childhood when the Greenwood was still young.
Bilbo huffed, he was hungry, tired and ready to sleep where he stood. He wasted no time bothering to wait for Lostoriel to take her stance. Instead he decided to flash his sword in a series of quick strokes. Lostoriel parried each one of his uppercuts, downstrokes, undercuts and lunges with the unnatural speed and agility that came with fighting for thousands of years. Again, Lostoriel disarmed Bilbo by twisting her blade near the crosspiece and flinging Bilbo's sword into the air where it landed a bit too close to Dwain's feet and to all their delight, Dwalin jumped in fright.
"What ye'r doing!" he yelled and Lostoriel couldn't help but laugh at his very angry, very red face.
Bilbo stood there holding his sides and panting heavily, his white shirt was turned clear in certain parts because of the sheer amount of sweat pouring out of him. He grimaced as Dori rushed up to him, fanning him down and then handing him a flask of water. Bilbo turned to Lostoriel, still swallowing a mouthful of the cool water, "Can we... Can we just take five minutes? Please?"
Lostoriel studied the exhausted, sweating hobbit and relented, "Of course. You're doing great Bilbo." then seeing the way he rubbed his shoulders she wondered if she hadn't been pushing him too hard.
"I'm okay," he caught her worried stare, "Don't worry. Just not used to holding my sword up for so long."
Whilst Bilbo recovered Lostoriel took the opportunity to take a short rest. She moved into the shade of a nearby fruit tree and sank to the ground, uncorking the leather water skin and downing its cool contents. The cool water trickled down her chin and onto her chest, where she was sure that there were pools of sweat beneath her dark blue shirt. She was thankful that she had decided to use this and not her usual travelling gear, for her bra was already soaked with sweat and she didn't even want to think of the catastrophe that awaited her when she removed her socks. More water split down her chin and gathered upon her necklace. Lostoriel wiped it away and felt the leaf pendant all the heavier on her chest.
Bilbo moved back onto the flattened grass, a wry grin spread onto his face,"You going to nap all day?"
Clearly, he was more than a little ready for the next half of their regiment, "Thought you'd decided to quit."
"And miss the opportunity to show you what a Baggins is truly made out of? I think not."
He was acting incredibly smug and it disconcerted Lostoriel to levels she could not begin to describe. The elf rolled up her sleeves and came to join him, the weight of her necklace was prominent, and she couldn't shake off her awareness of it. Bilbo began the attack by thrusting his blade upwards, stepping into the stroke with all his strength, Lostoriel countered it by simply swaying to the side and sent Bilbo stumbling forward.
Lady Galadriel had handed her the necklace that she had so freely rejected after Lostoriel had remembered how she had left earth and that she had heard this "her." Gandalf had mentioned that it had once belonged to her grandmother, though what legend he knew of it was shrouded in old wife's tales and doubt. When Lostoriel had mentioned this female voice, Gandalf had speculated that perhaps the necklace and the voice had nothing to do with each other. But after she had mentioned it was her mother who had sung that lullaby, that it seemed to led her in the direction of the Greenwood and that Lady Galadriel had said that Lostoriel must follow it, Gandalf had sat in silence for what seemed like hours whilst he processed all she had told him.
Lostoriel had not time to finish her thoughts when Bilbo swept his sword through the air with a hiss and Lostoriel spun on her heels, she lifted her sword into the air and parried his blade, bringing it down in an arch and sweeping it into the ground. But Bilbo was faster. The hobbit shouted through gritted teeth and managed to push Lostoriel's sword up and over her head with his blade. The elf brought her knife sweeping to the side and Bilbo jolted away.
Gandalf, her ever wise and trusting mentor thought that it could be her mother. Or even just a memory of her-
Bilbo changed direction of his sword stroke and moved in a series of flashing movements. His sword flickered this way and that as he darted from side to side and stepped into Lostoriel's guard, hitting her sword with such force that her blade twisted painfully in her hand and fell to the ground. In a split-second Bilbo had his blade hovering just above her throat. The garden was silent for a moment. Without warning their onlookers burst into cheers, some of them reluctantly parting ways with their money and others shouting their congratulations at Bilbo.
Lostoriel swore, her surprise evident by her wide eyes, "How on earth did you do that?"
Looking back on that day Lostoriel would swear that she saw Bilbo's entire face light up with smug mirth. The hobbit smirked, "You weren't paying attention."
Not far behind her Fili and Kili stood watching the exchange with expressions in the middle of horror and amusement. The youngest of the brothers caught Bilbo's eyes and exaggeratedly shook his head, mouthing the word, "no," as he did so, and mimicking being stabbed by a sword. Fili noticed what Kili saw as a mere jest and immediately suppressed a snort of amusement, opting to elbow Kili in the ribs as he knew that Bilbo probably felt just as terrified as he did when he had his first lessons in swordsmanship. As Kili glared at him, Fili briefly wondered when his little brother would grow up, however he then watched amusedly as Bilbo blanched to a concerning shade of green and could not help but flash his eyebrows at Kili.
Soon night drew itself upon the world. The inky sky glittered with the silver light of the heavens, clouds scudded across the sky breaking the light of the moon and shrouding the land in patches of silver and grey.
Under the stars lay Fili, Kili and Ori. Autumn had not yet stolen the warmth from the air and the brothers wanted to spend their last night in Beorn's lodgings peacefully. With no reminder that tomorrow they'd be travelling into lands they had never seen with unknown dangers around every turn. Their youngest companion had quickly fallen off to sleep. Ori was not accustomed to the hard life of travel. It had only been in recent years when he had been allowed to go on journeys to the towns around Ered Luin and having been in Beorn's home reminded him of the one he left behind.
The sleeping dwarf snorted in his sleep and the brothers turned to each other, Fili raising both his eyebrows and Kili barely suppressing his laughter.
"Just like Dori, isn't he?" said Fili, grinning .
"More like the forges when they've started their work. This is nothing, did you hear him on the first night we got here?"
"Oh, I certainly did," came an amused voice from the shadows. They both jumped and squinted into the darkness at Lostoriel, "it was like a lawnmower blaring in my ears."
Fili let himself fall back onto the blanket they'd been lying on, "Must you always move like a ghost?"
"Must you always breathe so loudly?"
Kili followed suit as Lostoriel joined them, crossing her arms behind her head and staring, wide-eyed at the sky. It had taken her over an hour to pry the wolf away from her side. Lostoriel could sense that Sunflower didn't want her to leave. And so the wolf had made it her duty to stick her nose into the Company's bags and cause as much chaos as she could. Thankfully Beorn had managed to distract the wolf with the leftovers from supper and giving Lostoriel a moment of peace.
The trio slipped into companionable silence. Their imaginations worlds away from their heads as the moon reached its zenith. The melody of an old Dwarven drinking song wafted on the wind from Beorn's house and mixed with the sounds of the night. And transported Fili and Kili back to nights spent around the fire with their friends at home, singing and playing their fiddles until the dawn cracked over the horizon. And took Lostoriel back to happier days in her youth when the world was not so dark.
"What do you think is up there?" whispered Kili. His eyes were full of starlight, "Beyond the coldness of the stars and the watchful eyes of the moon?"
Fili frowned, considering his answer, "Maybe another world, maybe you'd just slip right off the smooth glass of the sky and fall into oblivion. Aven believes that there are more stars beyond what we can see that we are watched by those who have gone before us. But I do not think they care, if they did then much would be different."
The coolness in Fili's voice caught Lostoriel off guard. Dwarves she knew were much more fascinated with the jewels that lay under the earth above it. But the Eldar valued starlight beyond even the brightest of gems. Her time spent on earth had taught her many things about what lay beyond the sky. Of the galaxy that was home to the tiny life sustaining planet. And the great ball of gas that was the sun and of the trillions of other galaxies that filled the universe beyond even the greatest astronomer's comprehension. She had taken that as fact, however, being here in Middle Earth reminded her of what she had grown up believing. Less tangible than the facts of science, but so real that if she closed her eyes, she could feel it.
"I believe that there is so much more that we do not yet have the means of understanding out there. Every star is a gift to light the way home, the Eldar have held it scared beyond all else. When I was a child we would run off and out of the forest where the silver light seemed to stretch endlessly. It is believed that they hold the memory of this world, of the good and bad, of wars and love and of those who have gone before us."
She had never fully believed that the Valar were the ones watching and keeping guard over middle earth. Frankly, Lostoriel held fast to the belief that if they cared then they would have done something about the evil that plagued the land. Maybe then she would have met death and not a second life. as she stared up at the stars, she couldn't help but feel the warm presence of her mother. watching her, making sure nothing bad would happen.
Kili turned to face her and was nearly startled out of his skin when he noticed how old Lostoriel looked as the night passed around them. The wistful almost childlike gleam in her eyes and the solemn lines on her face was akin to the same expression that Balin had whenever he spoke about his childhood. He had not realised how young he must seem to her until now. He had never fully held onto the rift between the dwarves and the elves, perhaps he was still too young to grasp onto the long-lost reason their people hated each other. Kili now had the urge to bombard her with the endless questions that popped into his head. There was so much he now wanted to know. If all elves were like Lostoriel and those whom they had met in RivenDell, then perhaps there was hope.
The young archer rolled onto his back, "Lostoriel?"
She hummed in reply, having felt his curiosity radiating off him.
"What's it like? Living forever?"
Lostoriel considered his question for a moment, then raised her brow at him, "What's it like to not?"
"I haven't actually considered that before." said Kili with such honesty that Lostoriel realised how young he truly was. Kili lay there shuffling through his thoughts for a long time
"What's the point in considering it anyway?" Muttered Fili dejectedly, crossing his arms across his chest, "The stars are just that. Stars. We're on our own and we're all doomed to die one day. There's no point believing that it's anything more than what it is."
"What's gotten into you?" Kili nudged his brother with his knee.
This time Lostoriel leaned on her elbow, watching as the dwarf prince huffed disheartened and glared at the sky. Judging by the way he constantly fiddled with the thick leather band around his wrist she knew that his anger was not aimed at her. Fili was homesick, his mother had given him that bracelet before he could leave for the Shire as a promise that he would return.
Lostoriel smiled weakly, hoping that he would speak to them, "You alright Fili?"
Fili sighed with the weight that Lostoriel knew only too well, "Yeah...I think so. I'm just..."
Kili stole a worried glance at his older brother. It was not often that Fili lashed out at anyone, Kili was perhaps the exception to that rule, mainly because he was exceptionally skilled at annoying his brother. But Fili was the more level-headed of the two and Kili had been noticing that he was
"Thinking about home and my mother and- Kili can you not stick your scrawny legs into my side?" hissed Fili, trying to push himself away from Kili's legs as his younger brother attempted to stick his un-booted foot under his back and the other near his mouth. The tender moment died and all Lostoriel sighed, shuffled to the side and withheld her laughter as the brothers managed to egg each other on, yet again.
"Dammit Fi! You smacked me on the nose you-"
A cry of pain was emitted by both the Dwarven brothers as a scowling, dishevelled Ori sat himself on Kili's stomach and rested his feet a bit too close to Fili's nose for the prince's liking.
"Mahal! Ori can you get off please?" wheezed Kili while Fili gagged as Ori's slightly damp sock came into contact with his cheek. "Ori, I love you like a younger brother, maybe even more than Kili, but if you don't take your foot away from my face I will chop it off and feed it to the wolf."
Fili the crown prince to the throne of Erebor's threat had no effect on the younger dwarf who resolutely sat on them until they stopped squabbling and shouting at him. Lostoriel had to hand it to Ori, he knew how to pacify them in the ways that she approved off. Ori had grown up with Nori for an older brother, they had been relatively peaceful and civil around each other, but when they were dwarflings it was not uncommon for Nori to be found with a smaller Ori clinging onto his back trying to pin him to the ground so that he could sit on him for hiding away whatever book his nose was buried in.
As Lostoriel watched the three of them reminded her of the days of being around Legolas and Thalion and how she was always five minutes away from smacking either of them.
"Are you two done bickering like a pair of inconsiderate dwarflings whilst some of us," he said pointedly, "are trying to rest?"
Kili coughed and moaned in pain as Ori's weight crushed his insides, "Ye...Yes we...Are Ori! Now please... please please get off my stomach or else I fear my supper might make an appearance."
That was enough to get the sleepy and extremely disgruntled scribe off his stomach and release Fili's nose from its onslaught. Ori had had a bath that morning, but he spent most of the afternoon walking around the garden and the result was not pleasant. "Good. Next time you two wake me up I'll write you falling off a cliff!"
With that Ori sleepily trudged off into the warmth of the barn, leaving the two dwarves and the elf staring at each other with the utmost surprise. Ori, soft-spoken, quiet, kind Ori never ever raised his voice at anyone. Especially not Fili and Kili, well, unless they were annoying him.
"Remind me that it's Ori who we need to be weary of when we're in the forest." said Fili with the faintest trace of awed fear in his voice.
"I vote that we keep him well rested for the duration of our journey." Lostoriel couldn't help but laugh as Kili tried his best to look serious, but soon joined her. It felt good to laugh. As her shoulders shook Lostoriel felt some of the weight of the week disappear and a lightness overpower her senses. She loved being in Fili, Kili and Ori's company. After all, if the calculations were done correctly then she wouldn't be that much older than them. Despite being old in their eyes, she was into adulthood by elven standards. Because of their age, they were easier to be around, it was as if they had known each other for centuries. And Lostoriel loved it.
"I second the motion."
Lostoriel sunk into the mattress with a grateful sigh, it would be a long time until she got to sleep in a bed again. It a long time until she felt any peace again. Her vicious words to Thorin still played on her mind. She hadn't meant to hurt him, nor had she wanted to push him away. Lostoriel had intended to do quite the opposite. She needed a friend, someone that she could rely on to remind her of who she once was.
Her time on Earth had changed her, or perhaps she had allowed it to change her. Lostoriel did not know which it was. She was forced to adapt to a world that changed so drastically within a matter of decades. She had no choice but to become unknown. Never settling in one place for too long. For the humans would grow suspicious of her young looks after a few decades. Never belonging anywhere except with the small group of fighters she had met. She was an unsung protector, a nobody. But now on the cusp of walking into a land where her family who had mourned for her awaited.
One where Smaug rested upon her shoulders like the weight of the world on the shoulders of Atlas. She needed a reminder, a small one. The fire of revenge raged within her and she was afraid that it would consume her.
The elf pulled the covers over her head so that only her face looked out into the dim firelight. These thoughts could wait until the morning. Lostoriel sighed again. She let her body relax and listened to the gentle sounds of the night.
Then out of the hushed night came a low hum. So low that it was barely imperceptible to her ears until it grew louder and joined by a lighter voice. And then another and another until it filled the entire house. She had heard the Dwarves sing on several occasions during their travels, but this felt...Different.
Lostoriel uncovered her head and closed her eyes. Becoming immersed in the song that the Dwarves began to sing.
"Far over the misty mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old..." It was Thorin singing, his rich baritone voice was unmistakable. When she had stayed in Erebor for official visits sometimes, he and her would sneak out the mountain and onto one of the secret paths leading to the peak of the kingdom. There the sky would be clear, and the wind would carry his voice far below.
She had not heard him sing for a long time. Lostoriel was lost in a world that existed only in her memories. The harmonies of the song seemed to reach into her very soul and release a wave of tears behind her eyes as they sang of the day Smaug attacked.
For once hearing him sing brought her no joy. Thorin had been quieter than usual. He barely ate. And more than once she caught him staring out to the East where the mountains stretched out beyond the horizon. He was rightfully anxious, however Lostoriel grew worried that Thorin would only withdraw into himself and that his mind would grow dark and paranoid as they drew closer to The Mountain. She had witnessed the terrifying change in King Thror and hoped beyond hope that Thorin would not succumb to the same fate. What will you do when his mind grows dark and he forgets you?
Lostoriel pushed the seeds of doubt that Saruman had placed in her mind. Thorin had proved himself to be different from his father and grandfather many years ago. She that he would stay true to that and that she would too. She knew that she couldn't take her words back,
The elf leaned against the wooden wall and let herself be. Leaving her cheeks wet and her skin cold as they sang of the bells ringing out in the dale. Of the men who watched as their houses and families were laid low by the dragon's ire. It was a terrible and mesmerizing song. They sang of the great rift between the ancient kings of their people. Of the gems of the Elven Lord and Ancient king. And of gems that meshed the light of the sun and moon that drove a deeper rift between their people. And as they sang, she remembered.
She saw it again. The mountain burning from the inside. The dragon smashing his way through. Pillars crashing to the ground, shattering the granite floors as the bells cried out in the wind above the crackling of the fire and the screams of hundreds of terrified Dwarves fleeing the kingdom.
Her body ached with the white-hot pain that seemed to dry the pools of tears within her chest. Thorin sang with such conviction that all anger she felt towards him dissipated and something flickered on within her. A fire doused since their meeting with Azog. The fires of revenge had been lit.
She could feel it in her bones. She had watched their kingdom flourish, she had seen the gems and jewelry wrought from the treasures within Erebor, she had witnessed the might of the dwarves and realized that she would see those days return. But first she wanted to see Smaug suffer, to see him beg for mercy in the end.
That night as she fell asleep with the lament ringing in her ears, Lostoriel dreamed of the days before Smaug. Of walking in emerald green halls where every passage was lit golden light and song. Of forests of pure green and sunlight falling through the early morning fog and fire burning on the mountainside.
Hiiii There! I'm still here! ( At least I think I am... the days have begun to blur and i think i'm starting to go mad...)
I'm sorry for not updating... for almost a month... I've been studying and busy with uni assignments, so my life has been taken up by that :(
BUT next week it's all ending so updates will be more regular... I'm also really sorry about this chapter, with the grammatical errors and stretched out feeling... i had to rewrite it like three times because i felt it wasn't good enough... So here you have it... Though I'm almost done with the next chapter! So hopefully ( emphasis on hopefully here) it'll be up towards the end of next week.
and i have to thank Lancelot2.0 who came up with a lot of the ideas in this chapter! I appreciate it... a lot Lance!
And now for the reviews!
ro781727: Thank youu! I didn't realize that I made that mistake! I'll go back and fix it .. No worries! I decided to give Thranduil a brother for the fun of it. I'll be writing a little more on him when we get to MirkWood, but it's not that important for now...
RemiSparklez: I'm so happy that you enjoyed that chapter so much! I had so much fun writing chapter 16. ALSO I'm even happier that you wanna re-read this story, must mean i'm doing something good? Anyways when i post some of the fics i intend to write i'll post about it here!
mlpflutter51: Thank you so much!
SuperWhoVenger214: Maybe Sunflower will tag along, maybe she won't... You'll find out soon!
Until next time, stay safe!