Chapter Fifty-Nine: Hope and Other Bullshit
At some point during the night before, Emelia Kinsington Montgomery had turned nineteen years old.
It was a cause for celebration. A success, amongst so many failures, that she had made it this far, and she promised herself that she would feel something other than sad about that fact.
Her hands found the worn fabric of her boots several times over the course of the long night, fingers and nails catching on all the rough bits. Those boots had seen far more action than her mother probably ever intended them to. They had held up, well enough, but she didn't think she could keep wearing them much longer without doing more harm than good. Already she could just about see straight through the rubber sole and her feet had felt the terrain of the ground more than she cared for. They had been a gift from her mother, practical and sturdy and thoughtful, and had carried her through the last year of her life far better than she ever could have imagined.
She had thought long and hard about what sort of gift she would give herself, if it was even appropriate, and she came up woefully short. Material items, things and trinkets and bobbins and bits, held very little value to her and even less meaning. The day had promised to be painful for her, even without the recent news, and with every moment that she passed she found herself feeling more and more despondent.
Legolas found her sitting outside their tent, eyes turned towards the sky, and sporting the blankest expression she could muster. He peered down at her, mouth opening for a moment like he was going to speak, but then he demonstrated a remarkable amount of understanding and thought better of it. He lowered himself to the ground, careful to avoid her exploring little raven and the patch of mud to her left, and followed her gaze from person to person, seeing things in them that she could not, would not.
It was just before dawn, but the camp was already a flurry of activity. Children ran past her, arms laden with baskets of supplies and food, laughing and trying to push each other down in the mud. A few succeeded and managed to draw the faintest of smiles from her. A few stopped when they noticed her raven and crowded around it, reaching out little fingers and bits of dried meat to try and coax it closer. They hesitated to speak to her, however, and quickly rushed away when their parents caught them, leaving her lonelier than before.
"Do you wish to talk about it?" Legolas asked after a moment, words carefully selected, she thought, to try and sound as accommodating as possible. It made her heart swell and her words die in her mouth. He pursed his lips when she didn't answer. "The letter did not state a name."
It was a question that had been on her mind all night long, but it seemed she would not have an answer anytime soon. "It could be any of them," She finally managed to bite out, each word more effort than the last.
It could.
It could be Fili who she had managed, by virtue of her half-baked plan, to crush underneath a literal landslide of rocks and left in a coma that he didn't show any signs of waking up from, his face scared and his nose unrecognizable.
Or it could be Thorin who had been ravaged by infection from losing his leg to Azog.
Or it could be Kili.
It could be Kili who she hadn't been able to see after he was ripped from her arms by Dain's men and whisked away to the one place she could not follow.
It could be Kili.
There was a hope to that thought that burned through her and left her breathless. She wanted so desperately to believe that it was possible, that he could be alive and breathing and every possibility that came with that. Every idea, every dream, that she had not allowed herself to even think of over the last eight months came flooding back and she struggled to keep herself grounded. A life with him, in whatever form that would take, had been too much to hope for. And now she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't stop seeing his face, and smelling his skin, and remembering the feel of his hands in hers.
"Ered Luin is not far from here," Legolas spoke slowly, the offer hanging between them without him even needing to say it. She knew it made him uncomfortable to even suggest the possibility. She watched him for a moment, taking note of the slight crease between his eyebrows that marred his otherwise perfect face.
Now that her hopes were well and truly up, she wasn't sure she could handle another disappointment.
"Maybe." Her raven popped up onto her knee and poked at the fabric of her coat. "Who sent the letter?"
"It was not signed, although it mentioned a small party of dwarves who arrived from Erebor to deliver the message in person." He held out a hand to the raven, keeping his fingers steady even when they were nipped at. "Could he make the journey?"
"To the Shire, maybe." Each of them went silent, falling into their own thoughts until Emelia spoke again. "Would you be willing to-"
"I would."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
"Legolas." They both turned at the same time to see Elrohir ducking out of a nearby tent, a large and jovial smile on his face. "And Emelia," He smiled wider when he saw her and cut around a large woman carrying an even larger basket. The ranger followed after him, dressed for traveling and looking decidedly less chipper than his elvish companion. "Good morning."
"Hello, Elrohir." Emelia shooed the bird off her knee and stood up, wiping the muck off her backside as she went. The raven fluttered up to her shoulder and pressed against her neck, as usual, burying itself against the flutter of her pulse. "Where is your brother?"
"He left to take some time alone." Elrohir leaned forward slightly. "The weather has not cleared up as well as we hoped. Are you ready to leave?"
"Yes." Her pack sat behind her, ready to go and meticulously repacked for efficiency. She had washed her face, eaten a little something, and even found the energy to brush through the curled knots of hair buried underneath her yellow scarf. Her thoughts moved north, away from Erebor, away from Ered Luin, and even away from her birthday. She cleared her mind as best she could, trying to focus on things that didn't make her so miserable.
And she succeeded in all aspects, save for one.
Kili was back front and center.
After months of doing her best not to think of him, he was back, and she didn't think she would be able to banish him so easily the second time around.
They left the camp just before dawn, packs refilled with supplies, boots lined with oiled fur, and bellies full of whatever stew had still been hot from the night before. It was a quiet affair, all things considered, and for perhaps the first time in her life, Emelia was not thankful for the time to herself. Even as the morning wore on into day and day slowly became night, none of them spoke to each other. Behind her, Legolas had taken up a permanent residence as they headed north, hand occasionally clamping down on her shoulder to push her out of the way of some hidden obstacle or another. Unnecessary, but kind. Hovering just out of reach, she could feel him leaning ever so slightly forward, just in her space enough to make her antsy but not close enough for her to find any sort of comfort.
Even now that they had stopped, waiting for the others to return from scouting ahead, he hovered.
He had been uncharacteristically nice to her for the last several hours, so much so, in fact, that she would think he was sick, if that were possible.
While she appreciated it, after a tense half hour she had had just about enough.
"You're breathing on me."
Emelia pivoted on the spot so she could look up at him.
He certainly feigned innocence well, that was for sure. With a singular twitch of an eyebrow, a slightly mocking gesture that would have been lost on her six months before, he took a slight step back and smiled at her, arms spread out in a sweeping gesture. "I cannot help that you walk so slow."
"We aren't moving."
"But then who would protect you from the wolves?"
"There's nothing around for miles, Legolas." She gestured to the vast expanse of land, taking particular note of the fact that it stretched on, flat and unbroken save for an outcropping of battered old buildings, all the way to the horizon. "And you've never been that bothered before."
"If you're speaking of the incident in Lake-town…"
"Always."
"You should know I do feel something akin to regret about that."
"Something akin to regret." Emelia snorted and shook her head. "I'll let Hallmark know of the hot new slogan."
It was just the two of them at the moment, a combination that Emelia preferred, if she was being honest. The others would likely return before long, with food to cook for the night, firewood, and, hopefully, a place to camp that offered just a bit more shelter than the nothingness currently given to them by the open plains. As if on cue, the dark clouds that had been following them all day rumbled, adding to the overall mood of somberness.
"Perhaps as penance, you could do me a small favor."
"That isn't how penance works."
"I need a favor regardless." Legolas was, at the best of times, exhausting. Emelia felt her shoulders slump ever so slightly, but she nodded all the same, indicating for him to continue. "Strider is still avoiding me."
She had noticed that. Tragic naming aside, Strider seemed no more inclined to speak to Legolas than he did her. It was only Elrohir that had managed to get more than a few words out of the stoic ranger and even that was in the context of discussing their next steps. Even without the obvious tension between Elladan and Strider, she didn't get the impression that he was a particularly verbose individual even on his best days.
"What do you want me to do about that? Shove you both in a room and wait for him to tell you his real name?"
"No." Legolas paused, seeming to consider the idea before he thought better of it. "That is silly. You are not strong enough."
"You're right. That's the silly part of that suggestion."
"Perhaps you could…"
"Sing your praises?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
Emelia considered the proposition for a moment. She certainly had a few choice praises of Legolas, mostly related to his hair, but she didn't know how that would help in the situation. She might be able eek out a few flowery phrases about his near-perfect ability to always say the one thing that grated on her worse than nails on a chalkboard. If she strained herself, and she considered it to be a true strain, she might even manage to be complimentary of his sense of humor, dry as it was. She could absolutely talk at length about how handsome he was, albeit now a bit hairless for he tastes, but she didn't think Strider would appreciate that very much.
As she debated, she could see the others beginning to return. First, it was Elladan. He appeared at the edge of the horizon, moving quickly as he fast approached them. He had a few small animals slung over his back and his bow gripped tightly in his left hand. When he came to stand in front of them, he neither smiled nor enthused in any measurable way. He did, however, hold out a small bundle of field berries to Emelia.
She was supposed that was about all she could hope for from the serious elf.
She took them without question, picking through until she found the right one and popped it into her mouth.
"I'll talk to him," She said to Legolas, happily munching on the berries as they all waited for the other two to return. "Although, you'll owe me a whole mess of favors from now until eternity."
"Did you find a place to camp?" Legolas asked, finally moving away from Emelia to address Elladan.
"No, but the others might have." Emelia held out the small cloth to Legolas, half expecting him to turn it down. Instead he plucked three up and ate them. "They are almost back."
True to his word, Elrohir and Strider returned shortly after. Elrohir was smiling about something, laughing as he tried, and failed, to get Strider to join in. Strider kept his head down, watching the earth as the moved closer and closer to them. As they got closer, Emelia could hear Elrohir's laughter, musical and inviting, and she found herself feeling ever so slightly lighter at the sound. Elves had that tendency. They were nothing like her previous notions of them, nothing like what tv and movies had shown her, save for their laughs.
"Did you find something?" Emelia asked, picking through the berries until she found the exact one she wanted.
"We did," Elrohir said, sounding unnaturally excited for some reason. His brother rolled his eyes, clearly understanding what he was talking about without him even needing to say. Legolas frowned, just as confused as Emelia. Elrohir, seeing the looks on their faces, turned to Emelia and smiled, the enthusiasm almost physically painful at that point. "Emelia, the history of this part of the world is fascinating. Strider may have a tale or two to tell."
Why Elrohir thought Strider would be notably more talkative in the ruins than he was normally was beyond her.
She appreciated the thought, however, the same way she appreciated the berries, and Legolas hovering around her, and smiled as best she could when he showed her the small camp Strider and he had set up while they were away. It was the thought that counted and she was determined to see why Elrohir had been so excited about camping down for the night.
Even after the three elves left, Legolas hardly bothering to even come up with an excuse to leave her and Strider alone at that point, she walked around them with an eye for appreciation, taking in all the old features of the crumbling walls in the same way she would if she was in an art museum.
After walking around them twice and practically memorizing the cracks and discoloration of every single stone, Emelia found herself standing in front of Strider, hoping that he would break the silence so that she wouldn't have to. When he neither attempted to nor gave indication that he would any time soon, she sighed and sat down against the collapsed wall, and prepared herself for the awkwardness that was sure to follow.
"So." It was like pulling teeth. Strider turned away from the gap in the wall and stared at her, waiting for her to continue. She took that as the invitation she needed. "Is this place special to you?"
"Special?" Strider seemed surprised at the term. "No, not particularly. Elrohir was simply being..." Strider trailed off, visibly unsure how to finish the sentence.
Emelia's curiosity was only piqued further. The relationship between the three was clearly close, if not endlessly complicated. If they truly hated him, like Elladan would have her believe, she doubted they would have so readily joined them north once they realized Strider would be accompanying them.
It wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but he was talking so she wasn't going to express her annoyance at that answer, or lack thereof. Under normal circumstances, she would leave him be and continue walking around the ruins. Of course, under truly normal circumstances she wouldn't even be there, so that train of thought was a bit of a moot point. Now, however, all she could hear was Legolas' voice urging her to keep talking to him, to keep pressing.
It would be physically painful, she was absolutely certain, but the curiosity as to his real name was starting to get to her as well.
"Do you plan on staying in the north?" Strider asked, perhaps shocking even himself at his desire to continue the conversation. Emelia stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape, before she recovered and cleared her throat, determined to not make him regret speaking with her in the first place. "Once your business in Forochel is finished?"
"No." She knew that with absolute certainty. "I just needed to clear my head a little bit. The last year hasn't exactly been easy."
"In that, we are similar."
He continued to stare out the window, giving her no indication of whether or not that was an invitation to pry.
Nevertheless, she took it as one.
"Did you lose someone?"
She worried, for a moment, that she might have asked the exact wrong thing, but then he turned to look at her, dark eyebrows furrowed over clear blue eyes, and nodded. "In a manner of speaking. Although, I think, not in the same way you have."
"What happened?"
"I fell in love with a woman who will never be able to love me back. Her father kicked me out of his home when he found out and her brothers have been angry ever since."
Emelia felt the heartache in his words almost as keenly as she felt her own. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"There is no harm in curiosity." There was a ghost of a smile on his face, so small she almost missed it. "And I believe you might understand better than most."
"Did Legolas tell you something?" She asked, hardly surprised if that was the case. Legolas had shown an almost pathological affinity for gossip.
"No, but you seem to be in a great deal of pain."
"It's about as obvious as an open wound isn't it?" Emelia ran her hands down her front, compulsively smoothing folds and dusting off dirt that didn't matter. "Today is my birthday and I never thought I would…" She paused, trying finally push forward the right words. When she couldn't, she decided to buy herself a little more time. "Is she still alive, the woman you fell in love with?"
"Yes."
"Then you're already doing better than me," Emelia said, propping herself up on the wall next to him.
"What happened?"
It was a surprisingly curious question for a man who had, up until that point, expressed little desire to have anything to do with, let alone wanting to know her entire sorry tale. There was a sincerity on his face, however, and there was a real benefit, at least in her mind, of talking to someone that she had no personal connection to. There was an anonymity to her feelings, a freedom to express exactly every thought and emotion, good or bad, without fear that she would ruin a relationship that she valued.
He was not Bilbo.
He was not Legolas.
He was not even Gandalf, who had tried to send letters when he could.
He was a ranger from the north who she would likely never see again after all was said and done.
And so she told him.
Everything and anything that came to mind she said, practically word vomiting all over the poor man. It was like the floodgates opened in her very soul, revealing every regret and fault she saw in herself. If she stopped talking long enough, she might even feel bad, but she couldn't. She couldn't not tell him about how it was her fault that Balin was dead. She couldn't not tell him about she had felt nothing but guilt for what she did to Fili.
She couldn't not tell him about Kili. She had felt so little for so long that she thought if she allowed the numbness to continue, it just might not ever go away.
She would be numb forever if she didn't do something about it.
"They found us up on Ravenhill and they took him from me." Emelia finally paused, wringing her hands together as she stared out at the vast emptiness of the fields in front of them. After a moment she turned and started walking around the ruins, racing thoughts practically forcing her to move. "And I couldn't follow him. I remember it now, how my arms were sore from holding onto him to keep the blood from getting out, and how I would have done it forever if it meant saving his life. And then they took him. They wouldn't let me see him and when there wasn't good news, I think something inside me broke."
She ran her fingers along the stone, feeling the rivets and the groves of what had been, she was sure, fine craftsmanship. There were years of history there, years of people and conflicts that she would know or understand. It was those sorts of realizations that gave her pause, that made her realize how old this world she found herself in was and how new she felt. "They watched me like I was dying animal. At first, I could pretend it was because I was recovering and they were watching me to make sure I didn't do something stupid." Strider made a noise and she thought he might understand exactly what she was talking about. She took that as a positive sign and continued, more confident in speaking the words that she would have, up until that point, rather taken to her grave. "They gave me what news they could. There's an elf, Tauriel, who tried her best to find out what was going on, but she only got so far with the dwarves before they shut her down when it became clear that Thorin wasn't waking up."
The ground was uneven as she started to make her way around the nearly collapsed room. Despite the fact that they walls were all but gone, the floor was still surprisingly sturdy, if not puckered from years at the mercy of the elements. From their perch she could just see the outline of the elves returning from whatever they had been doing. Legolas' brilliant blond hair stood out between the other two like a lightbulb.
"None of them were dead when I left. But they weren't alive either. I couldn't do it. I couldn't do what I was asked to do." She felt shame even just saying the words, but she had lived with them for so long, buried them so deep, that she could no longer hold on without something breaking inside her further than it already had.
"By who?"
"Myself." She looked down at her feet, feeling tears pricking at her eyes. "I should have been able to stay with him, no matter, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't wait for him to die. So I left. I broke my promise to him, and now I don't know if he's alive or dead and I think the guilt might just kill me. God, I feel like I've been widowed and I'm only nineteen years old."
"I am sorry." At Strider's soft words, Emelia seemed to snap out of whatever dark place she had found herself in. She reached up a hand and wiped whatever wayward tears had managed to slip down her face. "There is not much more I can say."
"I shouldn't," Emelia paused, scrubbing her hands across a little more vigorously until she was sure the evidence wouldn't be there when Legolas and the others returned. "I shouldn't have put all that you, but thank you for listening anyway."
He made a noise at the back of his throat and came to stand next to her by the window. After a moment, during which he seemed to debate back and forth with himself, he finally placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, letting it sit there for half a moment before he pulled it back.
"Anyway, no more sad things." Emelia turned around, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She had held onto her feelings for so long, buried them so deep, that it felt freeing just to say them aloud. "Legolas wanted me to talk to you."
Strider, demonstrating more emotion than she had ever seen on his face, rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"He is persistent."
"Are you ever going to tell him?"
"I would have told him weeks ago, months even," He paused, an ever so slight smirk on his face. "But it has always seemed more entertaining to keep it to myself."
"Well I don't blame you." Emelia snapped her fingers, half expecting her little raven to have forgotten her existence in the face of so much new space to explore. It was a loyal little beast, never straying too far from her except when she sent it on a few exploratory errands, but ever since they left the camp early that morning, it had pushed further and further away until she did not see hide nor hair, or feather in this case, for hours at a time. "He's annoying at the best of times"
"I do not believe you really mean that," Strider said, folding his arms over his chest.
"Not really. At least not as much as I used to. The longer he is away from his dad, the more likeable he gets."
"I have heard tales of King Thranduil."
"Good tales?"
"I would not go so far as to say that." Strider said, resting one of his hands on the hilt of the sword at his hip. "We should make a fire."
"Don't want to be accused of not pulling our weight," Emelia said, smiling when she saw her little raven swooping down at her from behind one of the many destroyed columns of stone. It had a small bug gripped in its beak, the long legs curled upwards and still twitching. Despite the grossness factor, Emelia was inordinately proud of her little bird. She wondered, briefly, if that was the feeling all parents experienced when seeing their kids walk or talk for the first time. If so, she could understand the desire to fill up a home with as many kids as possible. "So about your name?"
"Yes?"
"Can I guess?"
"I highly doubt you would even come close. Your own name seems to hint at an odd origin." Strider began to pile wood up in the middle of the camp, back to her.
"I told you, I'm from the north."
"But not the north of here."
"No, not the north of here." Emelia moved to crouch next to him, holding out her hand for her raven to land. "I can tell you more, if you're interested, but I don't think you actually want to know more."
"Probably not."
"Antoine."
"I'm sorry?" Strider turned, eyebrows raised and log of wood half gripped in his hand, half shoved onto the top of the pile of wood.
"Your name. Is it Antoine?"
"No, definitely not." He finished piling the wood up, artfully and without fear of it falling down, and pulled out a set of two small stones. With a quick swipe and a shower of sparks, the kindling splints of wood caught on fire. "But you are welcome to keep guessing."
Emelia smiled at sat down, scooting closer to the fire just as it started to heat up. An easy silence settled over them. On occasion, Strider would glance over at her, a searching look on his face that made her think he was really seeing her for the first time. Perhaps she had told him too much, revealed too much of the swirling thoughts that had plagued her for months, and she might come to regret it later.
But for now, she felt lighter.
For now, she could breathe a little easier.
And, if only just for now, she might be able to actually start looking towards some sort of future.
The ice at Forochel had only just begun to show the first signs of summer melt despite how late in the year it was. It was not warm, by any stretch of the imagination, but Emelia could already feel herself wanting to strip off her cloak and jacket. It was edging towards midday and the sun glistened off the ice. Lifting her hand up to her face, she squinted against the glare, trying to assess the situation.
Behind her, her four companions hovered.
They were waiting for her to do something, to show them why she had insisted on coming this far north.
The world in front of her seemed to stretch on into nothingness. If she ignored the others at her back, she could almost pretend she was back home. She had thought about it a lot, as of late, about what might be happening in Alaska while she was here. She hoped life had gone on for them, but she really had no way of knowing.
But she had made peace with that.
And she had not come this far north to mourn for things she could never get back.
She dropped down into a crouch and touched the ice. Her fingers scraped against the rivets, feeling the texture for a moment before she smiled and stood up, turning back to the others. "This is perfect."
"For?" Elladan asked, arms crossed over his chest. He had placed himself as far away as possible from Strider, practically shielding himself from even having to look at the other man from behind his brother's shoulders.
"Dinner." Emelia ignored their stares as she started to dig through her bag. She could feel the weight of their stares on her as. As she started to pile her supplies up, Legolas moved closer, bending down so that he was at eye level with her. "You could always go check around for ice demons, if you're so impatient."
"Ice demons are not real."
"Then it should be easy for you."
Elrohir barked out a laugh. "She is trying to tell us to go away, brother."
"Not in so many words." Emelia shared a smile with Elrohir, glad to see that he was not offended by her request. She had truly enjoyed their company, even if she didn't exactly have a choice in the matter.
Elrohir started to back away, pulling both Elladan and Strider with him.
"Do you need help?" Legolas asked, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder.
"Nope," She popped the 'p' and continued shuffling around her stuff until she was sure she had everything she needed.
The others left her alone at that point, leaving behind only Legolas.
It had been basically impossible to find an icepick in the Shire, but she had managed to convince the blacksmith to make one only after she agreed to give him free fish for the rest of the year on top of the pile of coins she piled on his workbench. It didn't seem like a particularly fair deal, but she had been desperate and on a time crunch, so she had begrudgingly agreed and went on her way.
The handle was a smooth, cherry red, clean cut and shaped perfectly for her small hands. She touched the point, testing its sharpness for a moment until she was fully satisfied.
It would be hard work, but she looked forward to it.
Lifting the pick above her head, she lined it up at just the right spot, fingers adjusting a few times to find the perfect hold. She took a deep breath and slammed it down, muscles tensing with the force.
She lost count after a few dozen stabs.
Her mind went blank, losing track of anything that had nothing to do with the task before her.
A few more hits and she would break through.
The water spurted up like a fountain, spilling over the thick ice and soaking the front of her pants. It was only a small hole, jaggedly chipped out and barely large enough to pull a fish through, but the simple act alone had been enough to add to the calm that she had already been feeling.
Waking up that day it was like something had completely shifted in her, like the heavy weight that had sat on her for so long had finally begun to lessen. Her grief had kept her at a standstill for so long. It had wrapped her up like a blanket, keeping her warm and still and lonely until she had lost track of how much life had really started to pass her by.
She was only nineteen. She was meant to be living and doing and seeing.
And so that's what she was going to do.
She picked up her stick and began to wind the fishing line around it, fingers passing over every inch of it until she was certain it wouldn't break. When she reached the end, she tied a quick knot, testing the strength with a quick tug before she was fully satisfied. She added the hook last, careful to avoid pricking her fingers, and dropped the line in the water with a faint plop.
She made herself comfortable on the ice, relishing the way the cold washed over her bottom to top.
"I was fishing with my family before I came here," She finally said, glancing over at Legolas as he also made himself comfortable. He looked odd in the same pose as her, legs crossed, arms resting on his knees. "Fred, Hannah, and Eddy. I used to be so resentful about having to go fishing. I hated it and sometimes I hated them." Legolas continued to watch her, expression curious. "It's a small thing, fishing like we used to, but I just had to do it. I just didn't think I would be able to move on until I did this, so thank you for coming with me. I should have said it earlier, but, you know…"
"Crippling sadness."
"Exactly," Emelia enthused, smiling at him. "I spoke with him, by the way."
"And?"
"And it was a lovely conversation," She lifted the stick a little bit higher, bouncing it around in an enticing way. "He told me his name."
"What?" Legolas's voice rose a fraction, eyebrows dangerously close to disappearing into his hair if not for the contrast.
She took pity on him after only a moment. "He didn't. Although you should have seen your face."
"Human attempts at wit are exhausting," Legolas said. They stared at each other for a moment, her eyebrows raised, before he finally relented and gave her a small smile. "Yours, however, are at least tolerable."
"I have some gossip." There was a slight tug on the end of the line, promising at first, until it disappeared and the water was calm once again. "He didn't tell me his name, but he did tell that he was staying with a family and he fell in love with the man's daughter."
"It always come back to love, it seems. You two are far too young to be so taken with the idea."
"It is the best feeling in the world," Emelia said gently, bobbing the line up and down. "And I think me and Strider are wise beyond our years. Our hardships have aged us."
"I cannot tell if you are being intentionally dramatic or not. The matter still remains. You and he are too young to have placed so much of your happiness on being in love. There are a great many things of greater note."
"You just haven't found the right person yet." She took note the slight sourness of his face. "Unless you have?"
"Do I have stars in my eyes that I am unaware of?"
"When elves are in love do they get stars in their eyes?"
"It is an expression, mellon."
"I sort of assumed you and Tauriel were a thing," Emelia mused, watching as his face went from slightly miffed to absolutely annoyed in a matter of seconds. "Never mind. I didn't mean to upset you."
"No," Legolas sighed, fingers twitching ever so slightly on his knees. The question must have genuinely upset him if it produced a physical reaction, even one so small as an almost nonexistent finger twitch. "You did not upset me. Tauriel and I are nothing but friends. We have been patrol partners for many years. There was a time, though, that I thought she might feel for me more than the affection that is shared between friends."
"She is kind of a babe. Of course, all you elves are."
"She is beautiful, even by elvish standards, but I believe her attention is now fully turned towards the Bargeman."
Emelia almost dropped her fishing line. "What? Tauriel and Bard. No fucking way."
"You did not notice?"
"I was a little preoccupied."
"Oh yes, I forgot. Crippling sadness."
"You sensitivity is what I admire most about you." Legolas rolled his eyes again, causing Emelia to smile when she noticed the very clear affection when he did so. "Are you upset, about Tauriel?"
"No," Legolas said. "I am more worried about her wellbeing."
"Why? Bard is a good guy, sort of. He wouldn't do anything to hurt her."
"It is not her physical health I speak of. Bard is mortal and will die sooner than Tauriel will likely care to think about. If she cares for him the way I believe she does, then there is nothing but heartache waiting for her."
"Sometimes it's worth it."
"Was it worth it for you? If you had known the outcome, would you have made a different choice?"
There was another tug on the end of the string, more insistent than the time before. Emelia popped up onto her knees, bracing herself to pull whatever it was. It tugged once more, but she waited, breath held until she was certain the hook had done its job. She started pulling the line rapidly, twisting the wet excess up around her elbow to anchor it as she felt how heavy the fish was. The dark outline appeared just below the surface, writhing back and forth until she was able to pull it out entirely.
It was huge, whatever it was, and a pearly iridescent that practically glowed against the backdrop of ice. Emelia scrambled back, dropping the fish in front of her so she could pull the hook out.
It stopped flopping after a moment.
She took a calming breath, unable to full process just how she felt at the moment.
After another few moments of silence, she finally turned towards Legolas.
"No, I wouldn't have made a different choice." She shoved the fishing line and hook back in, certain that the fish was large enough to feed all of them with plenty to spare. "I love him. I know I will until the day I die and even a little after. I hope you'll understand what it feels like one day and I hope you never have to go through what I have. The months I spent with him were a gift. Being loved by him was a gift. I think Tauriel will feel the same, when the time comes."
She hooked her finger inside the fish's mouth and lifted it up, chest swelling in pride.
"Impressive," Legolas said, holding out his hand to take the fish from her. He held it aloft in front of his face, turning it side to side.
"Thank you. It's a birthday gift."
"For who?"
"Myself. And in my magnanimity, I am going to share it with the rest of you. You should try and speak to Strider again. I think you might find him a little more receptive than before." Emelia stood up, taking the fish back from Legolas. "I buttered him up for you."
"You have my thanks," Legolas said, standing up as well and holding out his arm to take her pack from her. "And you have my respect."
"Finally, I can die happy now."
"It comforts me to know that your recent emotional turmoil has not dampened your keen sense of sarcasm in any way."
They shared a smile, Emelia feeling like it reached her eyes for the first time in months, before they started to walk away from the ice. It was comfortable, whatever was now shared between them, and didn't need to be said aloud.
"Legolas?" He tilted his head towards her to indicate that he was listening. "Were you serious? About Ered Luin?"
"Of course. I am not certain that you will find what you are looking for, but I will take you if you want to go."
"I do."
"Then that is what we will do."
Returning to the edge of the Shire brought with it the relief of bare feet and shed layers. Emelia, having convinced Legolas to carry her pack for her ever since they left Forochel, was free to wander as she wished, boots gripped loosely in her first two fingers. The rough patches on the ground still stung her feet, the little sticks and pebbles still made quick work of digging in, but she found she didn't care this time around.
Perhaps she would spend more time barefoot.
Perhaps she would do a lot things now.
On her shoulder, her little raven cooed as she strolled through the trees, happy to back amongst such familiar climes. The weather had turned hotter as the sun shot higher and higher in the sky, but she reveled in the feel of it on her skin. Her cloak was the first to go, followed by her coat and thick leggings, leaving her in just a linen shirt and cotton skirt.
"Maybe Bilbo made scones," Emelia said to her raven, pausing to pick a berry off a bush she passed by. The raven picked it from her greedily, nipping at her fingers in a clumsy effort to grab it before she could eat it. "Oi! Sharing is caring."
The bird ignored her and continued pecking at her fingers until she relented and picked a few more for it before she shooed it away.
"Does he have a name?" Strider asked, keeping pace with her despite their vastly different leg lengths. Legolas was a few paces ahead, head tilted upwards to watch clouds as they moved past them. It was an oddly whimsical gesture for the elf, one that Emelia tucked away to remind him of the next time he insisted on being an ass, as was inevitable with him.
He had been in a good mood for the last several days, despite the fact that Strider still had not told them his real name. Even when the twins left them at the edge of the Shire and Legolas was left alone with the two humans that apparently vexed him into his current state of constant confusion, his genial attitude hadn't wavered once.
Emelia was starting to grow suspicious.
"No, not yet." The raven, as if sensing that it was being talked about, fluttered from her shoulder to Strider's, pecking at his ear. "It hasn't come to me yet. I know it will though. I might name him after you, Ambler"
"Have you given up on guessing my name so quickly?"
"I'm planning my strategy for figuring it out."
"Flinging names into the void not yielding the anticipated results?"
Emelia smirked and shook her head, finding that she quite liked Strider the longer she spent with him. While she was hesitant to even begin to entertain the complicated race relationships in Middle Earth, there was something akin to inherent understanding that was shared between them as two humans. If she changed his clothes and erased the sword strapped to his hip, she could almost imagine him being one of the gawky teenage boys that populated her high school. Pimply and lovesick, on the awkward end of a recent growth spurt, and embracing angst as a personality trait, she was thankful for having met him when she did.
Being an adult was a binary issue here, sudden and alarming in its emergence, and offered very little in the way of compromises. Emelia had crossed that threshold unwillingly, dragged across and made to think about big ideas and have big plans well before she was ready. It comforted her to see another person struggling with the same weight of responsibility, even if he would never understand her fully.
Very few people would, but she now no longer craved that in her newly formed friendships. She had already found it, in Bilbo and the gaggle of dwarves that she missed so dearly.
She did not need warmth and comfort from Legolas. She needed his brutal honesty.
She did not need complete acceptance of her life in Alaska from Strider. She needed his quiet comradery in their respective heartaches.
"I don't think the void is what you think it is," She said, tilting her head up as they walked through a wide slice of sunshine. The heat built up under her scarf steadily over the last several hours, making her hair damp and uncomfortable. The sun added to the effect, becoming unbearable after a moment. She slid her fingers under the edge, fingernails catching in the unruly curls as she pulled it off in front of someone besides Bilbo for the first time in months.
"You have red hair," Strider observed, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. "Arwen was right. It is lovely."
"How do you know Arwen?" Emelia asked, scarf gripped loosely in her hand.
"Legolas told me of your intention to go the Blue Mountains in a few weeks' time."
"You can't change the subject, bud." The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "No way."
"What?"
"You fell in love with Arwen? You sly dog!"
"What, no! How could you possibly…"
"You fell in love with a woman and then her dad kicked you out of her house and her brothers were mad." Emelia was practically giddy. She reached out a hand and grabbed his arm, a bounce in her step. "And look! A pair of twin elves who were mad as hell at you for some reason. Macking on their sister seems like the one of the only logical conclusions."
"There are several other logical conclusions."
"Am I right?" Emelia tugged on his arm, smiling at him for a moment before she remembered that this wasn't likely to be a happy conversation. "Aw, shit. I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry."
"She wasn't supposed to be in Imladris," Strider said after a pensive moment. "She was visiting her grandmother in Lothlorien and had only returned a month or so before you and the company of dwarves passed through. I was away with Elladan and Elrohir when you arrived, or you might have noticed me worshiping every step she took."
The affection was clear in every word he spoke. "If it helps, I never cared for those twins any way."
Strider smiled, reaching up a hand to pat the hand still attached to his arm. "It does actually."
"I also won't tell Legolas."
"I am sure he will figure it out on his own without your assistance."
"I can hear you both," Legolas called over his shoulder, holding up his hand to dismiss them. "And you are correct. I would have been able to deduce it. Faster than you, if I hadn't been so concerned with keeping our small group safe."
"In the Shire. From hobbits."
"You should not underestimate them, quick and talented with throwing stones as they are." Legolas turned around, arms folded across his chest. "And, if you two were not so consumed in your gossip, you might have noticed the collection of ponies directly to your left covered in very large, pointy swords, perfect for stabbing you with."
Emelia pointedly ignored the blatant, and quite frankly ironic, hypocrisy of his statement. He did, at the very least, have the decency to smirk at her in a way that indicated his awareness of that little fact. She turned her gaze towards the ponies he was pointing to, unsure of how she had missed them.
There was a cluster of them, two brown and three cream colored, with their noses pressed together under a thicket of trees. Their fur was sheared as a respite from the heat, although it was hastily done and made them look more gangly and ungraceful than was probably intended. Legolas was right about the weapons, although there were not nearly as many as she would have imagined, but he failed to mention the packs of food strapped to them as well. Whoever had ridden them had traveled far. An odd sight in the Shire, to be sure.
She crossed the space towards them quickly, holding out her hand to rub the warm nose of the one closest to her.
"Hi there," She cooed, turning her palm up as the pony began to nuzzle against her skin. "Where's your rider, hmmm?"
She stepped to the side, running her hand along its neck. Behind her, Strider and Legolas went to the other ponies, each holding out their hands for them to smell. The saddles were ornate, expertly tanned and pressed to reflect fine craftsmanship. The weapons that were strapped to them were squared off, blunt and covered in runes. She felt her heartbeat increase in her chest, the sound and the feel beginning to drown out everything else.
"Emelia," Legolas started, dark brows furrowed.
"I know."
Her fingers continued to creep along the side of the pony until she came to the first pack. It was stuffed full of clothing, lumpy and misshapen like it had been done at the last possible moment.
The pressure of her heartbeat in her ears got louder.
Sticking out of the top of the bag, bright and blinding like a neon sign, was a bright blue cloak. She hesitated for a moment, entire body shaking like a leaf, before she leaned forward and pressed her nose against the fabric.
It was foolish. She knew that. The world was full of bright blue cloaks, just as it was full of ponies in ornate saddles and dwarvish made weapons.
But, hope sprang eternal.
Or some other bullshit like that.
The grass rustled behind them and both Strider and Legolas turned around quick as a whip, hands straying to their weapons. They did not draw them however, presumably convinced of the safety of the Shire just as she was. Still they moved into a protective stance, acting as a slight shield as she continued to press her face into the cloak.
"I told you we were lost," The first voice said, gruff and accented.
Emelia closed her eyes, entire body shaking.
She knew that voice.
And not just a fleeting recognition that her mind had conjured up in her most desperate moments, just to trick her into thinking that something was real that wasn't.
She knew that voice.
Her hands gripped the cloak.
"Should we stop and ask for directions?" The second was sarcastic, younger and brighter than the first. "Perhaps this tree will know. Or this one."
"Laddie, you're trying my patience."
Her knees felt like jelly, but she forced herself to turn around and face them. The thought occurred to her that she might be suffering from a mental breakdown. It had been a long time coming. Despite her concerted efforts to stave of the depression that had plagued her for the last eight months, there was only so much she could do. Perhaps her mind had finally decided to betray her. Perhaps it was tired of fighting the constant onslaught of negative emotions and instead had decided to conjure up a happy one.
But then he stepped through the trees and out into the clearing.
"Kili."
Gimli stopped, letting the moment linger for dramatic effect. It was mean, he realized, and perhaps entirely unnecessary now that the little ones knew the big surprise, but he couldn't help himself. His father had done the same to him. It was tradition.
Wenny, who sat with her back to him against the edge of his chair, whipped around.
"You cannot stop there!" The pitch of her voice bordered on unintelligible. Eldarion was decidedly more composed, although Gimli could see the same quiet desperation for him to continue. He allowed the moment to hang, for the anticipation to build until he could see the two child in front of him practically vibrating.
Leaning forward and dropping his voice, Gimli took a deep breath before he continued, a certain joy to his words that he had not been able to convey until this very moment.
The AU lives!
I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. I am very, very excited to reveal this to you guys so that I can get back to writing happy things. Emelia, the poor girl, deserves it at this point.
Anyway, thank you for all the support and kind words on the last chapter!