Part 2: Chapter 1: But In Dreams
Stars glittered above him, and Thorin could feel the kiss of the night breeze on his cheeks, through his hair. His eyes shut to feel it better: Sweet air, the living breath, he paid attention to his breathing, how his chest rose and fell, the intake, however painful, filling him. More, there was more now, because Sona––
Cries of Eagles pierced the air, waking him––
Sona?
Oh, but it did hurt, the lances of the teeth––
and you––
Ahhh–– Asti, here you are.
He had her in his arms, her firm body against his own. In the haze of his pain –– smashing in his insides from the mace–– he knew he was too wounded to hold her secure, and yet they pressed together, moving–– moving?
He looked beside her, then down–– he'd already seen the stars above––But that was only one side–– Oh Mahal––!
He flexed for purchase but there was none, and the pain that followed this involuntary motion ––broken ribs–– brought darkness until it woke him again.
Circumstances remained the same: every side was open to sky! Land tree and rock they passed, far far below––
Wild large wings beat above them, swooping and rising, lifting and soaring. He glanced headlong into the eye of the Eagle, who blinked slowly three times as she held a tick tighter, as though she would reassure him, before she glanced up toward wherever she flew–– They flew!
Mahal!
Sona. She was with him in his arms, head nestled beneath his chin.
Head split with aching, again, from the mace––
His pain would steal attention from his Thief.
No. no. He would not let it.
He focused on the feel of her hair, the shape of her face pressed against his neck dozing against his his skin there, her breath gentle, caressing, as she slept evenly, cradled with him in the claws of the Eagle. He focused on the contact of her living form against his, and steadied his own breathing, now and again interrupted by darkness when pain overtook.
He dreamed. This he knew, as he felt no pain. And the woman lying in his arms, his Thief–– she slept comfortably under the weight of many furs, deep in the heart of the Mountain, his home. It was vivid, again, so vivid he could smell the scent of home. Lavender, mingled with the subtle musk scent of green stone and earth, home. Nungu Azsâlul'abbad Zabal––
He dreamed. This he knew, even in the firm embrace of the solid stone around them. She was there with him, like the times before… though she seemed close to sleep within it.
On the other side of dreaming they flew beneath the Eagles wings, with pain, and scars… she'd been bitten. He looked down at the clear skin of her collarbone. No doubt he dreamed––
It was gone. She bore no scrapes and bruises from all that she'd been through–– the fall, then Gollum, and then…
All that came after.
This was–– almost relief, only lacking as it was not real.
He was very much aware. Mahal's favor, though the pain was gone, it echoed on the edges of waking. It would return, for her as well, with her scrapes and bruises not yet healed, and so he determined to savor this respite.
She snuggled in his arms upon a pile of layered furs, and though drowsy, she hummed a tune, one like a lullaby. It sounded familiar; he had heard it before, from a song she had sung to Kíli, though he could not remember the words.
Sweet dream––
Azog. Orcs. The blade, the cracking–– Sona!? No, she lived, Kaylîth, Ē'ze, also in the woken world. Let us leave pain there.
––But this. Gold Song. Here, right here, where he could feel her and he held her as if she were here in this dream. He knew better. Still. She was firm and breathing against him, the scent of lavender enveloped him, like home, calming, and the humming tune, so pleasant, he wondered how the words went, trying to recall. His arms drew her closer.
This should hurt more.
Pain tickled the edges of his dream.
––Stars glistened like diamonds in the far night, clear through the open sky window–– what? The sky window? There it was, open wide, and Thorin and Sona faced the starry night lying upon a bed–– a bed––? in the middle of his Parents' living quarter–– wha? his Parents'––? The bed, low set and open-splayed over slender wooden crates, was one Thorin did not recognize. The crates beneath held fireless lanterns within them, setting out a light like many yellow candles, while the bed stood ostentatiously where the wide sofa had set before, before Smaug… Of all places, why here? And a bed in the living quarter?
No matter. It is a fine view.
And no wonder he felt the grounding of the Mountain, smelled the scent of home, of Sona. That's what dreams are for…
He wanted to hold her and he was holding her and…
How could you throw yourself over me like you had? Did you think to save me from it? While an Orc blade descended toward my throat? Impossible. And if you had taken that edge?
You had. Something cracked, I had felt the snap––
And if you had died there? "Amrâd'mêzi, Asti?"
But she breathed with him in the clutch of the Eagle. He remembered, this remained true on the other side of waking.
How? What was that cracking? Thank Mahal, don't ask questions.
But I cannot help these questions.
How, Gold Song? After my fool move–– what then? ––Za'ē'markhuzd–– I was already dead. You could not save my life, not you, not that way, not for me, for my foolishness as I rushed to death–– Amrâd'mêzi? Sweet Pacifist–– you cannot take my place. "Lu' lu' lu', Za'ē'markhuzd."
Yet life prevailed, in dreams and with the Eagle on the waking side, where pain would greet them, grateful for another breath.
Here, in dream, Thorin lay in the center of this wide-open, low-set bed, cushioned by a feathered matt beneath the furs, with Sona to one side, her back toward his chest, in his arms, arms that held her from the open, beneath all the layers of comforting furs, his hand over her belly, feeling the softness of her skin beneath a layer of sheer cotton. He as well lay stripped to cotton pants and tunic––
Through the scant layers he could feel her strong core and her slender muscles resting shoulder to calf against his own, and he held her close, calmed by the contact. "Kaylîth, Ē'ze."
The calls of Roäc beckoned from outside the sky window––
And then the Raven alighted there, atop one of the opened glass panes, a construct of five heavy glass panels opening out in the shape of an angular flower––
Roäc cawed Thorin's name in the tongue of the Ravens––
No flight took them in his dream, they were not in the sky, no–– this was much better, welcomed by his Friend the Raven, welcomed by the stone around them. They were grounded, and the view above, just above, the sky window––! He ached for home, and here they were, beneath the Mountain! Azsâlul'abad, hints of lavender, from her, from home. His mind settled back to that. Such a thing he wished for–– so far from the wings of Eagles––
Nevermind. This is a dream––
Mahal knows he missed home, and he was struck by a pang of loss, acute, recalling then and now, the lost––
––But for Sona––
The almost lost––
––Sona––
He sighed into her hair, craving so much.
I miss home, Gold Song.
Why else would I dream of here? Even if only in a dream… for now we fly.
For well he knew they flew the skies on the other side of dreaming.
––This place, I would show you my home, I would welcome you here, to this beloved space, safe, this spot I recall from my earliest days, but not this way, not after battle, not with you, Gold Song.
––She shifted, seeming to be sleeping, and words mingled into her humming––
"Nighty night…"
Nighty night? She mumbled the strains of words–– That song? The one about 'dreaming dreams of me'? Thorin remembered it now, a song Kíli favored, as well as he––
"Kiss me…"
How he wished she sang this for him––
Ohhh, Mahal, spare me from dreams!
But he did not want to wake, not from this––
Her voice soothed a ravaged spirit.
"Tell me you'll miss me…"
Sona… how could you… you––
His hand moved over her belly, where he gripped her, her back to him–– he could feel her heart beat against his own, and in his chest a subtle ache beneath it.
No. She lived! Kaylîth, Ē'ze.
And if she had died for this? Her wound would pose a mortal one for both of them.
No, not this, stop. Do not think it–– Listen, hear the tone she hums––
"Biragishami, Ē'ze."
He pulled her closer, feeling her breath, her life, her heart––
"Thorin." She woke, and stirred ever slightly, and he drew into her, his face in her hair, oh to hold her, sweet living soul…
"Ē'ze." Mahal help him, he had chosen. "Mabajbūna'ê." And she did not know. He would say, but he could not, and yet this was a dream in any case, so he told her in Khuzdûl. Mahal help him she would understand in his dream. But she could not, she would not hear, for this was only dream, and so he was free to speak the secret tongue with her, and share his heart. "Sullu'ê Asti, Mabajbūna'amê."
She snuggled closer into him, leaning her head back as he held her, so gladly.
"Amrâlimê," I only just chosen when I thought you had died, fallen–– "Za'ulzan'amê," my greatest loss, after only just… "Za'ê Binumral'mêzu," and you do not even know. "Birashigami, Asti."
This was still a dream, and he felt his eyes burn, wishing it were real–– As real as she felt here, snuggled close in his arms–– wishing she could hear him.
But he took this solace, this embrace, and rested in it. And as she slept at peace in the dream, he kept close, grounded by the comfort of the Mountain and her steady beating heart against his own.
/T\oSo/T\oDo/T\
A/N: Inspiration for this chapter is the song Sona hums, have you guessed what song that might be?
Dream a Little Dream of Me…
Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper I love you
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me
Say nighty night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me
Stars fading but I linger on, dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear
Just saying this
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me
… as sung duet by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.
Sona, however, was humming the Mama Cass version!