AN. I guess I've been holding onto this last chapter for a few days longer because posting it feels like saying goodbye all over again. But lucky for me this goodbye is made all the better for having such lovely people to share it with. Thank you.
10 Years later.
Her mind was awash with memories; memories that lilted in and out of focus like the gentle ebb and flow of waves. They rolled languidly over her, warm and pleasant in their touch. But then out of the blue a laugh echoed in the distance, a laugh so familiar that it seemed to stretch out its ghostly hand towards her. Evanescent fingers stretching, reaching…
Sigrid tried to turn, tried to catch the hand that belonged to the voice, the voice that sung to the very blood in her heart… but it slipped away on the wind.
Now she was running, chasing the voice that called through the pressing darkness, drawing her in, closer and closer. A fork; two paths. She chose one and ran.
The voice was louder now and Sigrid could discern the angry words. Why did you leave me, Sigrid? Why? Why! Sigrid tried to open her mouth but her jaw was an anchor too heavy to move. But she needed to tell her; she had to let her know. The voice was slipping away, moving further along the passage.
Wait! She tried to yell. Wait for me. Please, please don't leave! But the air was futile in her throat. Sigrid stumbled along the passageway, the suffocating cold chilling her to the bone. She had to get to Tilda.
Why! Why! Why! The words echoed around her, each a hammer pounding against her skull from within.
A glowing light appeared around the corner; had she found Tilda at last? Hurtling around the rock face Sigrid found herself in a cave, a cave with a single figure standing at its centre, head bowed. Sigrid ran, reaching Tilda just in time to catch her frail body as she crumpled to the ground, a hand clutching her stomach, a crimson stain blooming beneath pale fingers, and all the while a steady drip, drip, drip echoed off the cave walls.
Tilda! Sigrid pressed her shaking hands to the wound, trying to stop the life from leaving Tilda's body, but its unnatural warmth only coated her hands, weighing them down.
Tilda looked up at her, eyes round with fright as she took a shuddering breath. Why did you leave me, Sigrid? She asked. Then her eyes fluttered shut and she moved no more, and yet the words kept echoing. Why, Sigrid? Why did you leave me?
Sigrid pulled Tilda's body tighter to her chest, rocking backwards and forwards on the cold cave floor. No, No, No! Tilda, Please, come back to me. But the voice kept going and the blood kept dripping. Why did you leave me, Sigrid? Why? Why, Sigrid?
"Sigrid!"
Another voice called to her, a different voice; a voice that didn't belong.
Why, Sigrid? Why? She couldn't escape it; it pounded relentlessly against her head. Why? Why? Why?
"My love, wake up!"
She knew this voice; this voice was warmth, solace, love… She needed to find her way back to him, but she couldn't escape the drip, drip, drip. Why? Why? Why?
"Sigrid!"
Living hands shook her and suddenly she was wrenched from the dream and her eyes snapped open. Sigrid's breath come in short gasps as she staring up at the canopy above her head. She was lying in the twisted sheets of their bed, cold sweat drenching her back, and her throat raw from the screams that had escaped from her dreams. She drew a slow shaking breath, trying to ground her wild thoughts and slow her frantic heart. This was real, she was awake. Tilda was- Tilda wasn't here. It had been another dream, just a dream.
Fíli was sitting up beside her, his face pinched with concern as he reached out a tender hand. "Sigrid?" he asked softly. "What do you need me to do?"
Sigrid turned over to face him, warm tears brimming in her eyes. "Just- just hold me." She whispered.
Fíli took her into his arms as she buried the sobs she had been fighting into his chest. He ran a hand over her hair feeling utterly helpless; forced to acknowledge that he could never truly keep her pain at bay, and so he held her all the tighter for it. Her heart against his chest, his lips pressed to her head as he whispered soothing words until her body no longer shook.
He had them too; dreams filled with the anguish of the past and fears buried by daylight that reawakened in quiet of the night. Then it would be she who held him tightly and it was both a blessing and a curse that it was all that either could offer.
"Did I wake anyone?" Sigrid asked croakily.
Fíli tilted his head, but not a sound reached his ears. "No, everything's all right. Sleep. I'm right here with you, my love. Just sleep."
They stayed like that for quite some time, dozing until the morning came around and the Mountain began to stir.
"Listen." Fíli breathed some time later. "Can you hear it?" he whispered, pulling a stray curl back from the now peaceful face of his wife as she lay sleeping in his arms.
Sigrid's eyelashes fluttered but stayed closed, the corners of her mouth lifting softly. "I can hear it." came her sleep laced reply.
It was one of the things they still did together; listening to the gentle rhythms and vibrations of the earth waking from its slumber. A ritual they had clung to in the wake of so many changes in the past ten years.
"If we lay here, just you and me, do you think we could stay here and just forget about the rest of the world?" Sigrid mumbled, pulling the blankets and furs closer around them.
Fíli chuckled. "We could try, but I don't think the rest of the world would let us forget." And there was something hidden within his voice, something imperceptible to all but those who knew his nature best.
Sigrid opened her eyes to look at her husband. Fíli was watching the canopy above, deep lines pinched between his eyebrows. She knew what was troubling him, all of Erebor had been whispering about it, speculating.
Sigrid rolled so that her hands were folded upon his bare chest, her chin resting atop them. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Fíli drew a heavy breath. "Thorin says it will be soon; that when Durin's day next falls he will formally abdicate and pass the throne to me. Sigrid, all my life I have known it was coming but now, now it's here and I-I don't think I can do it."
Sigrid reached up a finger to trace the lines that marred his face, working her fingers in circles until she felt the tension beneath ease and saying as she did; "There is no comfort in trying to escape this, my love. What's coming will catch up to you, but we will greet it together when it does." She cupped his check in her hand, turning his head so that it looked at her. "Believe me when I say that I know you will be a truly great King to our people."
"Thank you, my love, my hope." Fíli smiled softly, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. "But how can I protect and provide for our people when I can't convince the council to cooperate and amend the provisions of the Peace Treaty? I want to be able to prove to Thorin that I can be the King he deserves; the King you believe I can be, but if I fail at this…"
Sigrid frowned. "But they do see you as a King; Thorin, my Father, our family, and all our people. You have spent the past ten years proving it to them time and time again. They will not forget it over one moment of difficulty."
"But still-" Fíli made to protest but Sigrid cut him off.
"If there is anything I have learnt these past years it is that politics is a battlefield with words for weapons. You are one of the best warriors I have ever seen but it's not because you despise your enemy; you fight because you love what you are protecting. That is what makes you a worthy King and speaks far louder than any political achievement ever could."
Fíli nodded contemplatively, he could see the wisdom in her words and it warmed his heart to know that in her eyes he could be all that he aspired to.
"And besides," Sigrid added, a mischievous twinkle sparking in her eyes. "If Thranduil insists on obstructing council negotiations then I will just have to bring along a bow and arrow and make him see our point."
Fíli raised an eyebrow and smirked, momentarily forgetting his troubles at the image. "Diplomacy has never been your greatest strength."
Sigrid scoffed, pretending to be affronted at the repetition of his words from that night at the Lake. "Remind me again, who was it that convinced your uncle and my father that we should break a tradition that spans back as far as the ages and marry a Princess of Dale to a Prince of Erebor?"
"You did, my love." Fíli pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"And who told Thorin to allow the midwives of Dale to come the Mountain and share their knowledge, and then convinced him that it had been his idea in the first place?"
"You did, my love." Fíli pressed a kiss to her lips before drawing away, his eyebrows furrowed. "I'll never understand how you managed that."
"Well, it's like your mother always says to Tauriel and I; you males may be the head of the family and of this kingdom, but we females are the neck, and we can turn the neck any way we want."
Fíli huffed, crossing his arms as the braids in his moustache lifted. "And here I was thinking that we were in this together."
"Oh we are, my love." Sigrid lifted herself so that her head hovered above his, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his downturned mouth before pulling away, leaving his lips to search for hers. "But like I said; you're the head and I'm the neck."
Fíli placed one of his hands at her back, pulling her closer as if to claim his kiss, but at the last second used it to flip her so that his face was now above hers. Sigrid cried out in surprise, laughing at her husband. "Lucky me to love such a clever woman, but I might have to change your mind about this head-neck arrangement." He purred, pressing kisses along her collar bone, following the line of her throat towards her mouth. Sigrid arched her neck and closed her eyes, laughing at the way the thick hair of his beard tickled her as it brushed against her skin. His lips found hers and pulled her in.
"Quiet or we'll wake everyone." She murmured breathlessly between kisses.
Fíli paused in his conquest of her mouth, his ears catching at a sound beyond their doors. "I think we're too late for that." He sighed, throwing himself down on the bed besides his wife and lifting the sheets over both their heads. "Remember what I said about the rest of the world not forgetting about us?"
As he said it the heavy double doors to their chamber burst open and two small figures pelted into the room, catapulting themselves onto their parent's bed and gleefully throwing back the sheets.
"Come on, come on. It's time to get up!" said the first child, a boy both broader and shorter than a human child, with a mane of charcoal hair already brushing his shoulders and the faintest hint of beard on his chin.
"You can't sleep all day." Moaned the other boy, a replica of his brother down to the spark in his grey eyes but with a mane of golden hair instead.
"And why is that, my lamb?" Sigrid asked, sitting up and catching her golden haired son in her arms while Fíli trapped his laughing brother and pretended to throw him up into the air.
The boy looked at his mother in horror. "How could you call me a lamb?" He said, affronted. "I'm a lion, just like father, can't you see?" and he proceeded to puff out his chest and roar.
Sigrid laughed and pressed a finger to her son's lips. "Hush Frerin, my lion; you'll wake those still sleeping."
Frerin huffed impatiently, casting a glance across the chamber before wriggling out of his mother's arms so that he could stand on the bed and survey the room, looking around for his next adventure.
"And what are you two planning on getting up to today?" Fíli asked, setting his chortling raven-haired son, Durin, upright next to his brother. "Mister Dwalin had better not catch you in the armoury without permission, again." He said it sternly but there was an impish glint in his eye at the memory of himself and his own brother getting caught up in similar antics when they were that age.
"I think," Sigrid said, turning to give her husband a knowing glare. "That what your father meant to say was that you two had better not be in the armoury without permission at all, let alone getting caught. Isn't that right?"
The three males nodded soberly under Sigrid's stern gaze before her sons turned to whisper into their father's ear. Fíli's eyebrows shot up as he listened and Sigrid sighed, folding her arms expectantly.
Fíli considered carefully how to phrase his son's question, ultimately opting to phase it as it had been asked; there was no use in trying to pretend it hadn't been said. He swallowed. "They want to know how come your Da let you shoot a bow and arrow when you were their age but they can't?"
Sigrid narrowed her eyes. "And who told them that?"
The boys each whispered into one of Fíli's ears again. Fíli nodded and straightened up. "They said that your Da told them himself, and that Uncle Kíli said he once challenged you to a shooting contest and that even though he was faster, you got closer to the target from further away." He reported, the corners of his mouth twitching.
"I'll show him just how accurate my aim is." Sigrid muttered under her breath, causing her sons to giggling. But a panic had risen in her like bile.
Fíli sensing Sigrid's distress turned to his sons. He had always known Sigrid would struggle to reconcile herself with her sons' reverence for the tales of warriors and battle they were surrounded with, especially after Tilda's death. He himself had been born into the life of a fighter; it was expected as a Prince of Durin. But his sons were as much a part of Sigrid as they were of him and if she was not ready then he would not push it.
"Your Mam is right. You are too young to learn to shoot a bow and arrow yet." He watched his son's faces fall. "Besides," he added quickly. "Wouldn't you rather wait until you can learn to use a sword or carry an axe instead?" he wrinkled his nose in mock distaste but his sons faces remained distraught. Fíli sighed. "Your mother and I aren't saying that you will never get to go to the armoury, just not yet. Okay?"
"But uncle Kíli and aunt Tauriel teach Tinúviel to shoot and sword fight every day." Frerin said, his bottom lip quivering.
"Yes, but cousin Tinúviel is older than both of you." Fíli said placating.
Sigrid chewed her lip, watching the distress on her faces of her sons. She hated that it was her who was bringing them such misery. She remembered almost a year ago when Thorin had gifted the boys with ornately crafted practice swords so that they might learn to bear the weight. Fíli had seen the panicked look in her eye as their young sons eagerly took the toy weapons in their hands. Fíli had taken his uncle aside and explained in a hushed tone that they did not want their sons to take up weapons yet. But as much as Thorin had gruffly respected their wishes he told Fíli in no uncertain terms there would come a day when his sons would be ready and that he and Sigrid would have to acknowledge it whether they wanted to or not.
Sigrid laid a hand on Fíli's shoulder and drew in a heavy breath, looking at her sons. "My loves, I will agree to allow you both to go to the armoury under the supervision of your father and me on one condition;" she looked from one set of eager eyes to the other. "I need you to understand that your Da and I love our children more than anything else in the world; we need you to be safe. But that also means that you need to be able to defend yourselves and then one day you can defend those you love. Do you understand?"
The boys looked up at their mother, aware from her tone that what she was saying was very important. And in the way that children do, they understood, nodding their heads earnestly in unison.
"We love you to Mam." Frerin said, reaching out to squeeze her hand in both of his.
"More than anything." Durin added, pecking a kiss to her cheek.
Sigrid pulled them into her arms, holding them as she pressed a kiss to the top of each head.
Fíli's hand squeezed her shoulder, knowing that it must have taken everything in her to agree to that. She never ceased to blow him away with her strength, or her selfless ability to push aside her own pain for others.
Sigrid squeezed her sons tighter to her chest, closing her eyes and wishing that the moment could go on; that they could stay in her arms forever. But eventually she relinquished them.
"Isn't it time you two go and find Bomber in the kitchens so you can start washing the dishes you were set as punishment?" Fíli asked softly.
The boys looked at each other and a glee sparked in their eyes that was ill suited to the punishment. Fíli knew that look all too well; he and Kíli had worn it enough times when they were young whenever they sensed an opportunity for fun.
The boys had already scrambled from the bed and were halfway towards the door when their father's warning voice stopped them in their tracks. "That doesn't mean you get to spend the entire time eating."
The boys turned back to their parents, doing their utmost to twist their faces into honest and contrite expressions.
"Oh no, we could never spend our entire time eating." Said Frerin, barely suppressing the smirk that pulled at his lips.
"Just most of the time!" Durin burst out, and with that the two ran from the room, their laughter echoing down the halls as the heavy double doors swung shut behind them.
Fíli chuckled and shifted to face Sigrid but found that the bed beside him was empty.
Sigrid had slipped quietly from the warm covers of their bed and padded over the cold stone floor to the far side of the foot where a carven cot stood against the wall. The hem of her cream nightgown brushed against her ankles and her hair spilled messily out the braids she kept it in as she looked down at the tiny baby girl curled up in her blankets.
The baby stirred but slept peacefully on as Sigrid watched, a plump fist brushing at the soft down of blonde curls already on her head. Knowing better but needing it all the same, Sigrid reached down and ever so gently lifted her daughter into her arms, cradling her head as she did. Slowly Sigrid walked back towards the canopy bed where Fíli waited, sitting upright with his back resting against the headboard. Sigrid ever so carefully pulled herself up so that she sat between his legs, her back pressed into his chest and his chin on her shoulders as he looked down at his daughter in her arms.
With a feather light finger Sigrid traced out constellations on her daughter's forehead, just as she had once done with her sister. "Sometimes I wish they could stay like this forever; safe and untroubled by the world. But then the rest of the time they can't grow up fast enough."
"I wish it too, my love. I wish it too."
He knew how she felt; so incredibly elated and yet mind-numbingly terrified, wanting to shield and protect but also needing them to be able to protect themselves.
Fíli reached out a hand and as he did his daughters chubby fist reached out and captured his thumb, her fingers wrapping themselves around his and holding tight, gurgling contentedly in her sleep. He remembered not two months past when she had entered the world screaming at the top of her lungs and he had held her for the first time. Then she had fitted into one hand, her fingernails the size of a grain of rice, so frail but so utterly perfect. Now she had grown and her head rested easily in his other hand as his arm wrapped around Sigrid. "I think that we play the game of love knowing that in the end we will only lose, but still we play because to have a love we fear to loose is a treasure worth enduring the pain for."
Sigrid leant her head so that it rested against Fíli's, her eyes still captivated by Tilda, the daughter they had named for her lost sister. "Does that make it all a big sacrifice; is everything weighted in measure so that our joys are a reward for suffering, or is it that our suffering is the cost of our joy?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, love." Fíli sighed. "I don't think we would be the same people if things had happened differently, how could we be? But I have to believe that somewhere along the way, by some other course, we would still be here. But maybe one cannot exist without the other; the joy and the pain. Just as when I am suffering you make it your purpose to remind me of our joy, and I would do the same for you."
Sigrid smiled, lifting her chin so that her eyes met his. "There can't be one without the other."
Fíli smiled back at her. "Today, tomorrow, and in every version of forever." He said, pressing a kiss first to her forehead, then to her nose, and at the last word his mouth met hers.
Sigrid felt her soul melt into his, letting his lips draw her home while their daughter slumbered on peacefully between them. And somewhere in the exquisite solace of the moment, the wrongs of the world seemed to fall away into insignificance nothingness.
Some pains never truly went away and some hurts lingered, but life went on. Mornings past into dusk and years fell into memory, but little by little and day by day the road went ever on. It wound through thickets of dense shadow and then out into clearings of dazzling light, and they faced it all side by side, united forever beyond the end of their days.
AN Part 2:
*"The man may be the head of the household. But the woman is the neck, and she can turn the head whichever way she pleases." Nia Vardalos, My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
*Tinúviel literally means "daughter of the starry twilight" and is taken from Lúthien Tinúviel, an elf who fell in love with a mortal man. Much more of her story is told to Frodo by Aragon and appears in The Silmarillion, The Lay of Leithian, the Gray Annals section of The War of the Jewels, and in other texts in Tolkien's legendarium.
I picked it because Kíliel and starlight just go together and also because I saw some small elements of their story in hers.
*Frerin and Durin are both names of the Durin line (Frerin being the name of Fíli's late uncle)
*The last line is essentially an amalgamation of some of my favourite Tolkien quotes.
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Thank you for coming on this journey with me. What started off as a one-shot to cure some writer's block evolved into something more than I could have ever dreamed and it's all thanks to you lovely people!
Thank you for your kind words and your comments, each one lifted my spirit and brought me so much joy (Even if you were telling me that it made you want to cry #SorryNotSorry). Please let me know what you thought. Tell me your opinions about my characterisation, plot adaptation, writing style ect.
Maybe one day I will write another little piece to this story, but for now the real world is calling and I must away.
I bid you all a very fond farewell,
Mont Girl of Lumatere.