Belireis. Such a lyrical name for such a tortured woman, so small a figure, Thorin thinks to himself as he watches the woman sitting in the bed. Kili came rushing to him in the morning, full of stories about the farm girl, almost love struck in his lauding of her. Thorin must admit she is making an impression on his company, whether or not he wants it.
In the end, he summons Dwalin and Balin, his two oldest friends and advisors to come to the healing room to hear the farm girl's story. He is tempted to dismiss Fili and Kili but one look at the stubborn look already forming in Kili's eyes and Thorin knows that it will be less effort on his part to have them hear anyways. He supposes it will be good practice for Fili at least to be present to make decisions and judgements about the validity of her story and where one brother is the other is never far behind. He resigns himself to having both of his nephews, Gandalf and his burglar present.
Belireis is sitting against the headboard of the bed, her hair loose around her shoulders, dressed now in a long, deep blue elvish gown that covers her feet and hangs low on the edges of her shoulders. She tugs nervously at the edge of the collar, as if trying to pull it up around her neck and make her skin less visible to them. Small nicks and scars decorate the back of her shoulders, rope burns still vibrant red on her wrists. She seems to shrink away from Thorin, intimidated by his fierce countenance, eyes impossibly wide under her dark brows.
As they settle around her she swallows a couple of times, her throat dry, faced with these dwarvish strangers, a wizard and a Halfling. Fili catches her eye and offers her what he hopes is a reassuring smile and Bilbo is trying to be as friendly as possible as well. She fists her hands in the fabric of the long sleeves, hiding her fingers and summons the courage to meet Gandalf's eyes. He gives her a nod and she breathes in and out slowly for a few counts, readying herself.
As she begins her story her voice takes on a different timbre, measured but also emotionless as if she is forbidding herself from feeling the depth of her pain in front of them. Her eyes are bright with grief but she doesn't falter as she tells them her story.
"My family owned the farm land you settled on to camp before running into the trolls," she starts. "My father was Ophilion of Rohan, my mother Manra of a small town in Rhovanion." She swallows, struggling to keep her chin up. "I had two elder brothers, Theonin and Eodread. They are all dead now."
Bilbo's face creases in sorrow for her and wants to protest that they mustn't make her relive this but she continues. "My father was brother to the leader of the Rohirrim in Edoras," she says. "My uncle, Eothan sent out a call for warriors to come to the aid of Edoras. My father had not fought in years and did not want to get involved in the fighting between the Rohirrim in Edoras and the Wild Men in the hills of Rohan but he felt honor bound to help his brother. Theonin offered to go in his place. My father needed Eodread for the harvest and couldn't spare both his sons and my mother did not want Theonin to travel alone so….so I volunteered to go,…as a healer."
"We left for Rohan about a year ago from now, in the spring. We traveled the wilds and reached Edoras by foot within two weeks. By then the Wild Men were getting bold and making raids on the villages surrounding Edoras itself. Theonin and I presented ourselves to the king in Edoras and to our uncle Eothan who took Theonin into his service as one of the riders of the Rohirrim. He was taught how to ride in war, being very different from what he had ever known."
In her eyes, Bilbo can see her fondness for her brother, the love she felt for him, the pride of having a strong and brave elder brother. Her love is deep and so too is her grief as she turns from those moments of pride to what followed.
She keeps her eyes down as she talks, lost in memory. "Theonin fought in many battles, helping to beat the Wild Men back from the villages, to keep the farmers safe. I traveled with them on these skirmishes as a field healer, dressing wounds and helping keep camp. Theonin taught me how to use knives during that time, telling me that I had to be able to defend myself in case of an unexpected attack in the night, the kind the Wild Men were known for. His teachings saved me more than once." Fili notices how she absently rubs a slim scar on her forearm, one he had not noticed until now, one that was clearly made by a weapon with a serrated edge. The skin is smooth with scar tissue but the line is ragged and must have hurt very badly when she received it.
"We remained in Edoras for nine months, aiding our uncle Eothan and the king until the Wild Men were at last cleared from the lands nearest the city and retreated back into their hills. It was a long campaign and a fierce one but when it finished it was close to harvest time and Theonin was feeling guilty leaving our father and brother alone with the harvest and I knew my mother needed my help with the livestock and preparations on the farm for winter. We left Edoras behind roughly three weeks ago to head home."
"Despite our guilt, we took time to head home, seeing the land." Belireis's voice is riddled with self-blame. "Perhaps, if we hadn't been so selfish we would have gotten home in time…"
She trails off, unshed tears clogging her throat. Her eyes glaze over in pain as she shifts, trying to alleviate the agony of her leg and hide the more bitter pain in her heart. Kili is looking at her with compassion and Balin regards her as he would a family member in the same situation, with a tenderness that is unbounded.
"Rohan was the land of my father," she says, voice still strong, almost hard as she forces any wavering away. "Theonin and I wanted to see it. We had not known much of life away from the farm and wanted to explore. Eodread was always comfortable on the farm but Theonin and I were always wandering, wanting to see new places and people. The world has so much to offer and we wanted more of it, I suppose." She says it with shame, devastated that her desire led her here.
"When we reached home,… when…," she takes a shuddery breath. "When we reached the farm, it was abandoned, smashed and hollow, with plants growing in the fireplace, the roof barely held in place, all the animals gone." She says it in a rush, with no inflection. The listeners know where this must end and as much as they don't want to press her, they have to hear this.
"We wandered the woods near the farmstead, looking for my parents and my brother," she says woodenly. "There never was much hope that they were there; the destruction was too vast for them to still be there. We found their bones when we found the trolls."
"We never knew how long our parents and brother had been dead for," she says, eyes flat now, devoid of any emotion, still in an expressionless face. "They captured us before we realized what was happening. They,…," Something like a sob escapes her but she doesn't cry, not a single tear. "They…they skinned Theonin and killed him first."
Bilbo cannot help the gasp that comes out of him even though he knows this was her family's fate. But for her to witness the death of her beloved brother in front of her eyes… he cannot imagine the horror and anguish of it.
Belireis continues as if she has said nothing shocking, looking up and beyond them. "They tied me in the pen where they normally keep their meals. I spent two days tied to the post before they captured your horses on the end of the second night. The rest, you know."
There is a moment of quiet. Then Gandalf murmurs, "My dear, you are welcome to stay here as long as it takes for you to heal. You have endured much."
She doesn't reply, her eyes foggy and lost. No one knows how to fill this aching silence that yawns before them. Finally, Thorin clears his throat. "We are grateful to you, Lady Belireis, for your aid and bravery," he says, hating how generic the words sound. "We will leave you to rest. Come, Kili, Fili," he orders.
He stands and gives her a small nod before leaving the room, Dwalin and Balin trailing in his wake. Gandalf sighs deeply. "I will talk with you further later, my dear," he tells her. "We have much to discuss." Bilbo catches the slightly cryptic tone in the wizard's voice and wonders at what it is Gandalf wants with her. He follows the wizard out, noting how reluctant Kili and Fili are to leave her side. Kili struggles with his words and then gives up, pushing roughly past Bilbo who looks back to watch Fili murmur something to the girl. She nods at him, eyes bright.
Fili leaves her then, something aching on his face, closing the door gently. Unable to hide his curiosity, Bilbo has to ask, "What did you say to her?"
Fili shakes his head, avoiding the hobbit's question. "I need some time to think, Master Baggins." Never has Bilbo seen Fili so serious as he walks away, his tread even seeming downtrodden. He clearly cares for her, and it weighs on him, her sorrow.
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"Our business is no concern of Elves," Thorin practically spits.
"For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map," Gandalf demands. Bilbo watches without saying a word, trying not to anywhere near too close to either side in this argument.
"It is the legacy of my people," Thorin retorts, voice deep with mistrust. "It is mine to protect. As are its secrets."
"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves!" Gandalf entreats. It is night now and Gandalf, Bilbo, Lord Elrond and Balin, Fili and Thorin are all assembled in one of the vast halls of Rivendell, talking in the moonlight. Thorin pulled Fili away from the rest of the dwarves who were merrily roasting chair legs over a fire to come with them. Fili feels slightly out of place, unsure how to act, although he supposes this is why Thorin has brought him, to teach him more about ruling and interacting with other leaders.
"Your pride, will be your downfall," Gandalf admonishes Thorin. "You stand here in the presence of one of the few people in Middle-Earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!"
Elrond looks from the wizard to the dwarf king, keeping his own curiosity from showing. Bilbo looks between the elf and Thorin, as each weighs the others gaze. Thorin reaches inside his vest then and Balin moves to stop him. "Thorin, no!" But Thorin brushes off his old friends protests and hold the map out to Lord Elrond, stiffly, but as an unmistakable offer of peace.
Elrond takes it with delicate hands and unfolds it slowly, the aged paper moving against his fingers. His dark brows crease in a frown. "Erebor?" he asks, eyes boring into Thorin. Thorin keeps his eyes slightly lowered. "What is your interest in this map?" The elf lord demands, though not forcefully.
Thorin draws a breath, and Fili waits to see how his uncle will react. However, it is Gandalf that fills the moment with words. "It's mainly academic," the wizard interjects. Thorin breathes in, watching the wizard. "As you know sometimes artifacts like this contain hidden text?"
Elrond paces away to look at the map and Gandalf meets Thorin's eyes, who nods in relief. For a moment, Fili hadn't been sure whose side the wizard was on but it is clear that Gandalf still supports Thorin despite their recent disagreements.
"You still read ancient Dwarvish do you not?" Gandalf asks Elrond, his voice light. Elrond turns the map in the moonlight, examining the parchment at different angles.
"Cirth Ithil," he says, gazing up at the moon and then the map.
"Moon Runes?" Gandalf breaths in. "Of course." He looks at Bilbo quickly who is watching the proceedings without any comment. "An easy thing to miss," the wizard tells him. Bilbo looks back towards the elf, his expression unchanging, and still somewhat befuddled.
"Well in this case that is true," Elrond says. "Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written." He turns back to look at Thorin, lowering the map.
"Can you read them?" Thorin asks, deep hope awakening inside of him.
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Elrond leads them out onto a beautiful expansive platform, naturally carved from the walls of the cave that surround it. They are high in the cliffs surrounding Rivendell, a waterfall streaming down over the edge of the cave, luminous white in the moonlight. The stunning vista centers on an alabaster slab of quartz, rising up at the edge of the platform, a formation vaguely shaped like a pedestal.
It is towards this that Elrond leads them. "These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve, by the light of a crescent moon, nearly 200 years ago," he tells them as they file out into the open night air. He places the map on the raised dais and smooths it out with his long, graceful fingers. "It would seem that you were meant to come to Rivendell."
He looks up at the hobbit and dwarves gathered around him. "Fate is with you Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight." Fili and Thorin gaze up towards the moon which eerily appears from behind the clouds just as Elrond is saying this, sending chills up Fili's spine.
They watch in bated anticipation at the light from the moon filters down out of the night sky to illuminate the dais, bathing the stone in pearlescent light, bright before their eyes. Bilbo watches in astonishment as glittering blue characters begin to take shape on the map, at the bottom right corner, beneath the words "The Desolation of Smaug." Thorin peers across Elrond's arm at the map, not quite believing what he is seeing.
Elrond flattens the map with his fingers, holding the edges down as he begins reading.
"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks…
And the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day…
Will shine upon the key-hole."
"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asks Balin as Thorin crosses his arms a pondering hand coming up to his chin.
"It is the start of the Dwarves new year," Gandalf tells him. "When the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together."
"This is ill news," Thorin murmurs, almost to himself, then sees his nephew and Gandalf staring at him. "Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us."
"We still have time," Balin says. Bilbo furrows his eyebrows at the older dwarf, not understanding his meaning.
"Time? For what?" he asks.
"To find the entrance," Balin says, a fervor heating his voice. "We have to be standing in exactly the right spot at the exactly the right time. Then and only then, can the door be opened."
"So this is your purpose?" Elrond says, his voice full of disbelief and discontent. "To enter the mountain?" Fili catches Balin's look of regret at having revealed their plans to the elf lord but Thorin doesn't bother denying the truth now that it has been spoken.
"What of it?" he asks the elf lord confrontationally.
"There are some who would not deem it wise," the elf lord retorts in the same deep measured tone but still holds out the map to Thorin nonetheless. He takes it sharply.
"What do you mean?" Gandalf asks Elrond. The elf looks over his shoulder in a slightly disapproving manner at the wizard.
"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-Earth," he tells Gandalf and Bilbo spies, just for a moment, the power that Elrond has kept hidden beneath his surface of civility. This is a very old elf, with a very long memory, with powers they do not understand. He leaves them on the platform, looking at each other with this new knowledge.
"Fili," Thorin says, turning to his nephew. "What would you counsel?"
Off put slightly at being asked for his opinion, Fili swallows, trying to ease his suddenly dry throat. He is scrambling for an adequate answer, one that will please both his uncle and the elf lord and the wizard which is no easy feat. He opens his mouth to answers but then a silhouette appears in the hall behind Thorin, vivid in the moonlight and his breath catches and he struggles to find it again.
"Fili?" Thorin asks, having never seen this look on the young dwarf's face before. Bilbo and Balin next to him turn to see what Fili is staring at and when Balin breathes in sharply, Thorin spins around.
Walking towards them, ethereal in the moonlight, is Belireis. She limps slightly, not graceful as an elf and her eyes are still weary. It does nothing, however, to disguise her pale beauty and the alluring siren call of her eyes. For a moment Gandalf's memory slips backwards in time, seeing a woman so similar from his past, yet unable to recall her name, a woman who changed the course of Middle-Earth. Then she is standing in front of them and she drops low onto her knees.
The elvish dress she is wearing puddles around her ankles, the fabric long and silky, especially on her, being small. She bows to Bilbo who seems shocked at her actions. She looks up at him through dark lashes. "Master Baggins," she addresses him in her husky alto. "I owe you a great debt."
"Oh," he stammers, perplexed by the whole situation. "No. no, you don't owe m-me."
The piercing look she gives him is enough to silence his half-formed protestations. "You saved my life." She says in the same reserved tone. "There is no greater debt."
Rather brusquely, Thorin asks in his gruff voice, "What are you doing here?" She turns to him, still on her knees. The look in her eyes is something new, something challenging, something fierce. She rises slowly, measuring her movements.
"If you would permit me a moment to speak with both yourself and Master Gandalf, I will explain," she says and that something that is in her gaze is in her voice too. It is a knowing, a certainty that is uncanny and a sense of purpose that she has lacked since they first encountered her. "It is of great importance," she says quietly.
He looks to Gandalf who nods. "Very well," Thorin says in a manner that suggests he is humoring her.
Balin looks at Thorin in question. "You can take Fili and Master Baggins back to our quarters. I will meet you there shortly." Balin nods and Bilbo casts a longing look at Gandalf who gives him a bemused smile and makes a shooing motion with his hand. Only Fili hangs back.
"Uncle..," he starts, but Thorin cuts him off.
"You may escort her back to her rooms when we are finished," he says, not unkindly. He may appear uncaring but he has seen the way Fili is starting to look at her. "She'll need a familiar face after this conversation if Gandalf's demeanor is any indicator." Fili nods in bewildered appreciation.
Thorin closes the doors behind him and then he is alone with Gandalf and the girl on the dais, the great white stone still shining with moonlight under the water fall's steady rain. He cannot help but still think of her as "the girl". She has not yet become Belireis in his mind, still only minor part in this quest to him. Although he can now see by the look on Gandalf's face that this may change.
"You have my attention," he tells her. She looks at him with those bright grey eyes, so focused and so alive. They captivate him for a moment and he can feel something happen, like a subtle shift. Her eyes blur, seeing beyond him and then they clear and she looks at him, squarely her shoulders.
"You once asked me how I knew about the Mountain," she says, and it is clear from her tone that mountain is emphasized, Erebor, without a doubt. His eyes narrow, almost in anger but he sees Gandalf take a warning step forward as if to shield her. She does not shy from him though. Instead she meets his eyes. "I saw it."
He draw in a sharp breath. "What do you mean, you saw it?"
She looks unsure, as if gauging how to explain. Gandalf intercedes on her behalf.
"Belireis has an unusual gift, one I have not seen in a mortal woman in my life time," he says. Even he sounds amazed which surprises Thorin. She looks at the wizard in surprise, not having known he has guessed at her ability. Nothing seems to completely astound the wizard and yet this does. "Belireis has the power of foresight."
"Foresight?" Thorin asks in disbelief but Gandalf mistakes it for confusion and elucidates.
"She has premonitions. She sees things before they happen, can glimpse what may transpire," Gandalf says, sounding amazed himself. "Few beings in Middle-Earth have such a power. Most are ancient, yet she has this gift, I am sure of it."
"And what makes you so sure?" Thorin asks, gazing searchingly at Belireis, already seeing the advantages of having her with them. He can intuit that Gandalf will want him to take her with them, to serve as a guide based on the visions she has. He is dazzled by the idea of it for a moment before his more practical, rational side rears up. Her whole story could be an elaborate ruse, meant to misguide his quest and his kinsmen.
Gandalf begins to answer but instead, Belireis steps towards Thorin. "May I?" she asks, holding out her hand for his. Rather skeptically he reaches towards her, placing his hand in hers, surprised to feel ridges and calluses and to see that their hands are almost the same size although her fingers are slimmer. When he touches her she inhales quickly as if in shock and her eyes fade from this consciousness and move beyond. It is not so much that action that convinces him as what happens next.
She staggers and unconsciously he reaches out to steady her. She jerks back to awareness, extricating herself from his grip in embarrassment. She looks at him, then at Gandalf, who nods encouragement and then back to Thorin.
Her voice is distant as if she far away from them. "Your path leads you over mountains, wreathed in mist, to a forest dark with the shade of discontent and festering age to a mountain tall upon the hills old dwarves of old. The glittering halls of gold and dark stone call to you, high above the ruins of a town of men. You and your company will journey far, to the slopes of the mountain to reclaim a lost home."
Thorin looks at her, calculating, weighing the consequences of their meeting. Gandalf seems to be thinking the same thing. "This is not chance, Thorin," the wizard tells him. "Whether or not you believe in fate, she is meant to travel with you."
Belireis looks at the wizard, questions burning in her eyes. "You would have me join his company?" she asks the wizard, a touch of incredulity in her voice. "I am a simple farm girl with a cursed ability," she says, grief coloring her words.
"You are no simple farm girl," Gandalf replies, authority creeping into his voice. "Further, you are an adept healer and an accomplished fighter. You do not lack the skills to accompany his quest."
Thorin watches her, seeing that her actions are not feigned, that she truly is not sure of herself. That in itself convinces him that she has no malicious intent towards himself or his kin. "She must pull her weight," Thorin says. Belireis's head whips around to look at him now. "And she will be the last addition to this party," he says to Gandalf. "We cannot afford any more strays, Gandalf. I can see why you would have her with us. But time will be of the essence."
"Agreed," Gandalf acknowledges, leaving Belireis looking at the two men in confusion.
"You mean to have me travel with them?" she asks the wizard.
Gandalf turns to her, bringing the full bearing of his tall stature and intimidating gaze to rest on her. "Belireis, Daughter of Ophilion and Manra, you may not yet forgive yourself for the death of your family. I see that pain on your soul. But fate has delivered you here to this crossroads where you can turn from this path destiny has laid before you, or you can rise to meet it. There is nothing for you in the past, my dear girl. But there is a way forward, on a quest with men who already have respect for you. They will need a healer and a guide for the times when my duties may lie elsewhere. You have seen into Thorin's future because this quest will be part of your life."
Thorin, watching this exchange, marks the way the wizard uses his words well. However, he also sees how overwhelmed she is, how scared she looks and he takes pity on her. "Come," he says, beckoning towards her. "Fili is waiting outside to escort you back to your rooms. I will not demand an answer of you tonight but know that come morning, we will be leaving and you will have to have made your decision by then."
She looks up at him in question. "The elves will not sanction this quest," he explains. "We will need to leave before they attempt to stop us."
"I agree," Gandalf says. "Lord Elrond has called me to a council tonight that is bound to last for a good long while. You would do well to get some sleep quickly and be ready to leave with the dawn light."
Thorin gives him an amused raised eyebrow and then pulls him to the side to inform him they are leaving in the morning. He chooses to keep her ability to himself for now as he knows Gandalf hopes he will. Gandalf gently takes Belireis's arm pulling her to the side. "Protect him," he whispers to her. "Protect them. They will need you more than you know."
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They are left alone together for him to escort her back to her rooms. She looks exhausted by all the activity, dark half-moons stark against the pallor of her face. They walk in silence, her deferring to him and letting him lead, hanging back as though a servant. He has so much he wants to ask her, so much he wants to know more about but every time the words form on his lips, he looks back to ask her a question and sees the ache she carries under her skin, and can't make himself injure her more.
She catches him doing it just before they reach the healing room and their eyes meet. He clears his throat in the silence between them and she keeps her eyes demurely down. Now that she knows he is a prince and Thorin is a King, she has been treating them exactly as if they are royalty and she is just one of the common folk and he finds that distasteful in the oddest way. She is not someone who should ever have to bow to someone else but here she is, obeying him and Thorin as if he has a crown on his head. He has never been treated like this by someone who was a stranger to him mere days before.
"Did you have a request, my lord?" she asks quietly, pulling him from his reverie. He swallows, looking at her long hair as it swings forward to hide her face. He struggles for an answer, wanting to make sure she is alright, that she will not have nightmares tonight although he cannot fathom how he would prevent them in any case.
"No," he says and then curses the simplicity of his answer since it is not what he wanted to say. She sinks into a deep curtsy and reaches for the door knob. He remembers his manners and moves to open the door at the same time and his arm collides with her shoulder and she stumbles a bit trying to avoid contact, weight sinking onto her wounded leg. Her eyes cloud in pain for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together to avoid muttering in pain. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm so clumsy," Fili blathers, catching her around the waist and helping her to stay upright. "You must be exhausted."
She nods weakly and he helps her into the room. She is a small weight against his body, all bones and sinewy muscle. Fili gently sits her down on the bed and she nods her thanks. He stands back up and finds he doesn't want to leave, that he wants to sleep in the chair for heaven's sake, he's so concerned for her. He can't even pinpoint why he is so concerned only that her quietness unnerves him.
He sits down heavily, the realization striking him. She glances at him, eyes inquisitive, a wariness creeping over her body, tightening her sense and readying her. "Is.. is something wrong, my lord?" she asks, pulling her feet up onto the bed.
"Fili," he says, hating the sound of "my lord". When she offers a confused look, he smiles at her. "It's just Fili. I just had an interesting thought about you is all." The words come out before he can stop them and he flushes a bit but is surprised to see he isn't the only one. A dusky rose color has crept its way up her cheeks and to the tips of her ears.
Feeling slightly more somber, he looks at her. "I realized why your quiet manner feels so…. Different to me. Your grief, your pain, is so controlled, so silent."
She sucks in a breath, a quick sharp thing that says he has truly figured out something about her. She drops her gaze away, hugging her knees up to her chest. "It is not that it is a bad thing," Fili tells her, leaning forward in the chair so that his fingers briefly brush the end of the bed. "It is that it is so foreign to me that I scarcely know how to offer you comfort."
The expression on her face doesn't change and she regards him with that guarded look although her fingers begin to release their tight hold on the fabric of her dress. "Dwarves grieve differently you see," Fili finds himself saying to her. "They wail and cry without remorse or shame. Dwarf women sometimes sheer their long hair in mourning. Some celebrate the lives of fallen companions with feasts and songs and tales." She is looking at him in rapt fascination, as if hearing a fantastic tale of old. He very gently reaches forward, giving her time to back away, and takes one of her hands in his own.
"You are so quiet in your grief," he whispers to her. "It is not shameful to give it voice."
Belireis looks at him with sparkling eyes, but not a tear drops from her eyes. She brushes her hair out of her face. "In time," she whispers to him. "In time, I will grieve for all I have lost. But if I lose myself in it now, I do not know where I will find the strength to move on with my life. Your quest gives me purpose again,….Fili," she says, stumbling over his name as it passes over her tongue for the first time. "I need purpose again in my life. The grief will come. For now, a focus on repaying my debt to you and your kin and your company helps me to look beyond the past and see a future for myself take shape."
He squeezes her hands, letting her know he understands. They stay like that for a moment more before he gently places her hand down on the bed and stands. "Then we best rest," Fili tells her with a soft smile. "Uncle is an early riser and plans to be on the move fairly early." His voice is light in jest, masking the deep emotion he felt from her. "Rest,…. Belireis."
He turns to leave and she whispers so soft, "Thank you, Fili," a phantom noise against his ears. He turns to look at her, one hand on the door, ready to leave, but unwilling to do so.
He hesitates. She tilts her head to the side slightly, her eyes barely visible in the gloomy light. Then he closes the door firmly and walks back over to her. She looks at him in question. "I would rather you not be left alone, tonight," he says with as much confidence as he can muster. "Someone has to make sure you are well rested for tomorrow."
A diaphanous smile slides over her lips. She moves over on the bed, curling small against the pillow and he lies down on the floor next to her bed. She hands him a pillow, her small fingers grazing his, the tickle of her hair on his forearm making him smile. He settles himself on the floor, as she pushes a blanket over the edge. He begins to protest, saying she will need it more but she shushes him gently which he finds endearing and all argument leaves him.
He hears her settle in as well, close to the edge of the bed. "Goodnight, Fili."
"Goodnight, Belireis."
