This has been a most unusual debate for me, but alas I decided to start the New Year with a bang.
I'm also glad to see you're still enjoying the story (new and old followers). Let's see if the following was well worth the wait. (This story will never be abandoned – fyi. I've been selfish while editing later scenes…) And to think most of you have been around reading this for the past 2 years. ^-^
Fett012000, your review was not repetitive in the slightest! Each and every review is taken to heart. While this story in particular already takes place after the book's end, the BoFA film has certainly boosted my fuel to fast-track what's left to tell.
Fíli did his best not to cause any sudden movements as he sat next to Thorin's bedside. The few times he'd been there prior were always gloomy as if a heavy weight hung in the ether, now there was more enlightenment surrounding them both.
The young prince was greeted to albeit, a slightly more comforting atmosphere.
He straightened in his seat, both nervous and relieved to see the dwarf king shift position a little so they could make eye direct contact.
Thorin himself oversaw the wild look in Fíli's eyes, content and comforted to see one of his own kin alive and in one piece. Very few faces had entered his chambers as of late, and this was definitely a welcome meeting.
"Uncle."
"It's good to see you, Fíli." Thorin held up a hand to halt his nephew from speaking, hovering it above the covers, a sign that his full strength had not yet returned. "Words cannot amend all the wrongdoings I've caused you and your brother, to the company. To everyone."
Fíli sat fixed. He hadn't expected an apology. Knowing Thorin all his life, it would take a lot for him to express any form of remorse. There was never any need for his uncle to act contrite. It was true that he made errors in judgement during these recent trying times, but Fíli believed - wanted to believe - that it was not entirely his uncle's fault.
As younglings, Fíli and Kíli had only heard the gossiping of what remained buried within the halls of Erebor. When probed, they would be told that such accusations of gold-sickness were nothing more than myth. A legend. Wise words carefully selected by their mother, or course. As questions continued from two meddling young minds, asking whether such a tale could come to life and affect their family, it was Thorin who promised them that such a thing would never befall them. A promise, Fili came to understand, inescapably opposite.
"Uncle, that's not the reason why I'm here. I came to see you."
He watched Thorin's face relax into confused liberation. After all, it wasn't the fault of his uncle's which brought upon these poor circumstances. If anyone, or anything, were to blame Fíli would blame the immeasurable mounts of treasure hoarded below. Their next challenge would be to wait on Thorin's recovery. To see if his gold-sickness remained or was cured.
"Fíli, the one thing I sought for was to bring Durin's Folk – my people, my family - back to Erebor." Thorin sighed into a grunt, fighting the sharp pains spiking up his side like a dagger's edge cutting over the patterns of his wounds. The consistent pangs were unpleasant, but he would not complain. Not now, after such a feat.
"Uncle?" He could hear the worry in Fili's voice, the shifting of the chair as the young dwarf leaned closer. "Shall I send for a healer?"
"No." Thorin inhaled carefully, trying not to cause further agitation. On days like these, he wished he were not awake to feel such pain and discomfort. Other days, he reminded himself that a kingdom will not, could not, run itself. So long as he drew breath, Thorin was determined to see his empire restored to its rightful prosperity. "And Kíli?"
"Resting."
"Good. Very good. You should as well."
"I have been." Fíli lied. The whole feeling felt unnatural, leaving a bad taste on his tongue and a weighed heart. Like many things since the battle, he pushed his wrongdoings to the far corners of his mind. His brother got away with much worse as they were growing up. Although, in this instant, Fíli himself knew he wasn't finished learning. "Is there any task you would have me do while you heal, uncle?"
Thorin extended a surprisingly steady hand to his nephew's shoulder, as if regaining all strength within that brief moment. "You've done enough from this visit, lad. Go be with your brother. Balin will take care of the rest."
The young heir's blue eyes widened from the prospect of Thorin's lack of knowledge. His uncle did not know of his involvements with Daín's meetings. Perhaps Balin thought it best that he wasn't aware of the council's musings after all? Or did the young prince simply beat the advisor to his uncle's bedside?
"Fíli?"
Fíli snapped to attention, shaking his head from drifting thoughts.
"It's nothing, uncle."
Fíli stood, bowing to Thorin before leaving. He knew the gesture was not required of him, but it did bring a small comfort for future days to come. Though, it was uncertain as to how long he'd be able to keep up this charade. Kíli was so much better at it when they were younger…
"…Nori!"
"What?" The dwarf whipped around innocently to face his eldest brother's dark scold. "Stop looking at me like that. Whatever you're thinking, it wasn't me."
"Lies!" A dwarf who'd been actively stocking supplies earlier that day became pliably furious with the ex-thief. "I know what yer up to! You want to take everything for yer'self!"
Nori backed away from the heated approach, hands raised to his chest signalling peace. "I have done no such thing. Dori?" He quickly turned to his brother in hopes that the elder would help him out of his current predicament. The accused thief caught on to recently false accusations these past few days. Someone needed to be blamed, and he just so happened to be a perfect target.
Dori pointed vigorously at a pile of crates by the left-hand wall they were currently occupying. Nori followed his gaze. "Would you stop moving things where they shouldn't belong?"
"It's prioritizing, dear brother." He responded in a playful tone he knew would annoy the eldest.
"See, the most valuable items go there," Nori gestured towards a nook at the back of the room, "so I can keep an eye on it."
The dwarf pointed an accusing finger. He would have none of it. "So ye can steal it when nobody's lookin'!"
"With your watchful eye, I'm sure we won't have that problem." Balin stepped foot into the room with the youngest Ri brother sheepishly in tow.
"Best to follow what the majority would prefer. We don't need someone like Daín breathing down our necks over petty nuisances." Balin mused. At the mention of the King's cousin, the dwarves seemed to have settled within the advisor's presence rather quickly. Daín was a precarious sort. His cunning wit was just as dangerous as his inflexibility to waiver suggestions incoherent to his own.
Exhaustion mingled within everyday duties, leading to such scenarios of indictments and tension. With their king out of commission, Balin predicted worse encounters and issues that would evidently come to light as winter progressed. Unbeknownst to them, one couldn't be too careful while under a scrutinizing gaze of fellow advisors.
Those who'd been part of Thorin's company solely relied on Balin to keep the peace long enough for their king to return to the throne. It was no easy task, especially when a certain friendly adversary refuses to acknowledge word and presence alike of a young prince.
To the West within the mountain, ravens came and went as they pleased from a secluded room overlooking Ravenhill and the valley of Dale. All brought news from Ered Luin and likewise from the mountain itself. These ancient creatures worked tirelessly as days slowly turned into weeks.
Falo spent most of his time sitting by the rickety old table reading, reviewing, and sending letters between the dwarf kingdoms. Most notably; the Blue Mountains. It was there, which his fellow councilors resided up until hearing news of the battle.
In standing, last the dwarf himself knew, two of the remaining four were already traveling with the first convoy. With them, nearly a third of Durin's Folk. There would be healers, soldiers, and enough supplies to last those occupying the mountain until the next group's much needed arrival. The Lady Dís sought to hold back a few members of the King's council until final preparations were in place to traverse back to their homeland with everyone who did not wish to remain in the Blue Mountains. A choice some opposed and others agreed. Their arguments against her judgment were futile and thus, the council was inevitably split.
Winter was still young in season, yet the thought did not sway Falo in the slightest. It would still take the dwarves a good ten weeks to get here, and that's if the weather held up. Eight had already passed. If anything, it added to his impatience. He personally sought to restore the council as a whole to sooner alleviate a problem. A rather big problem. However, the more he thought the better the odds were turning in his favor.
The dwarf approached a stray raven perched near the window, waiting patiently as its master attached a piece of parchment to its leg.
"There will be a caravan of dwarves journeying here from the Blue Mountains. Make sure this letter is received by the remaining council." Without further instruction, the young raven hopped around and then spread its wings as wide as the window frame itself, breaking into instantaneous flight into the night.
All remained unmoving and silent.
With the valley covered in a thin white blanket, no one would've guessed a great battle had taken place weeks earlier. For some the sight settled a nerving pain, but for others, a quiet fear of what could've been.
Pain still lingered, but hope began to spread anew.
Éla jolted awake from unrest. Nightmares still plagued her, bringing her back to the brink of death in battle. Heaving large breaths to calm herself, she slowly loosened her grip on the covers trying to rid her mind from that horrendous day filled with demise.
Every night, she awoke to the vision of Thorin laying helplessly in a tent outside of Dale, breathing his final breaths of life after asking for forgiveness from Master Baggins, until he finally joined Fíli and Kíli in the halls of their forebears. It was a constant reminder of life and death and it hurt more than it should.
They were all alive yet she still felt empty and detached.
Despite all the probing inquiries and suggestions, namely from the youngest son of Fundin, Éla still couldn't find the courage or heart to visit her king. Deep inside, she believed this would be wiser. For both of them.
None of that soothed her restlessness when she attempted to tackle a much needed cleanup in the kitchens later that day.
Food remained scarce and so they rationed as best they could. Poor Bombur had even fallen asleep near the pantries after another hard day's work. If the female dwarf hadn't met him prior to their journey, she could've sworn he'd lost a few pounds.
Bombur was sound, so Éla had no worries from making noise as bowls and pots were stacked to be cleaned. With water already boiled over the fire, she made quick work while humming a soft melody. Performing these small tasks satisfied her need to do her part. It often left her distracted and a little too focused all at once. Not that she minded, of course.
"That's a nice tune."
Éla gasped in surprise by the sudden intrusion. It was late, and the dwarves were usually tending to their own business by now. She hadn't expected anyone to drop by the kitchens at that hour. Fluttered nerves turned into relief as Dwalin stepped inside the dimly-lit room, bowl in hand. Éla regarded the gesture with a weary smirk.
"I didn't think you were one for cleanup, Master Dwalin."
The warrior opposed her cynical comment by way of a scowl. He approached her quietly, standing before her with an arm holding the bowl for her to take. "Eat."
She looked down, realizing the bowl he held wasn't empty at all. Rebuking its content, she turned back to the dishes. It was a kind gesture to come from him, but she didn't need it.
"Thank you, Dwalin, but I already had my share earlier."
Éla heard him snicker in protest. She sighed in defeat for he was going to make this very difficult.
"You're no maid, Éla." He placed the bowl on the counter next to her, grabbed her wrist and pulled it out of the washtub, placing a dry rag in her hand instead. He matched her cautionary scold. "Do not look at me like I'm some child. We've all seen you give away your share many times."
Dwalin released his hold on her wrist, silently praying she would heed his request. "You've gone without little food, tending to the ill and wounded. But you're not taking care of yourself."
"Is that why you're here? Nothing will get done on its own, Dwalin." She returned to the washtub, tossing the rag on the table in the process. "Sparing food to those who need it most should be of no concern."
"It is of concern to all of us."
Éla pondered that phrase, pausing as she stared into the warm murky water. "Do I dare ask why?"
Dwalin returned to her side, offering the discarded rag once more. "You grow weaker day by day. You have wounds that still need healing."
He was responded with a forfeited laugh or sigh. He couldn't quite tell. But she knew he spoke the truth.
"Everyone has their part." She responded a little above a whisper, breathing into exhalation. There was no sense to continue this charade. The warrior already saw through her. "I'm just doing mine."
In that moment, Dwalin sympathised for her. Everyone was stressed and exhausted. Even now, it remained an understatement to their true predicament. Éla finally caved in and took the rag from the warrior's hand, and for the first time in a long while, a small smile graced the female's face.
A sense of relief washed over Dwalin. At least he wouldn't have to take drastic measures with her that night. Her selfless actions caused worry among the company as they became more recurrent. Éla became too distant from them. Of course she had her reasons, but it didn't justify her actions to do so. They needed to look out for each other and will continue to keep it that way.
Éla corked a brow as she noticed the warrior patiently waiting for her to take the first bite.
"Is something the matter?"
"No." Dwalin crossed his arms, a sly twinkle in his eye as he took gratitude from her next reaction. "I'm waiting for you to finish so we can move to the next task."
She eyed him cautiously. "What task?"
"Thorin requests your presence."
"I assume that's why you're here doing this, then?" She asked cautiously, catching on to his little game.
His grin broadened mischievously. "King's orders."
Éla returned a smile in defeat. The one expression she had no control over. "Once I finish this, I'll go."
"Good."
As she was about to take a bite, she stopped inquiringly.
"If you don't, I'd have to carry you."
"You wouldn't." Shocked but not surprised, she was answered with a witty, baritone chuckle.
Satisfied from a duty fulfilled, Dwalin turned on his heel. "One more thing," he spoke over his shoulder, "you're off duty for the rest of the evening."