i
The Anduin laps at the banks slowly, tenderly even. It's with a lover's touch that the river washes the blood away, its waters turning the colour of roses.
Across the ground bodies lie scattered. Elves and men and dwarves along with goblins and wargs. They are all lifeless, embedded in the soft folds of dewy soil. A heavy price had been paid for a handful of gold and those who remain to suffer are in an even greater number still. The dead are gone, they do not ache like the living. Their mission is over.
Gandalf touches a hand to the female Halfling's shoulder. She trembles, her eyes spilling tears still. Her fingers clutch the motionless hand of Thorin. It is little Lori, the one who has followed her cousin in his adventure and has won the heart of a stubborn warrior who would never open his eyes again.
"Come child, it is enough," Gandalf tries to persuade her. "You can do no good here. Let us get you something to warm you up." Upon noticing that she does not move, the wizard bends down and picks her up.
"He'll never be warm again," she manages to choke out. "I'll never see him again. I'll never hear his voice again. How could he do this to me? To us?" And she cries, because it's the only thing she can possibly do other than wade into the Anduin and allow its current to sweep her away.
Bilbo tries to comfort her but Lori won't listen. She's so tired and heartbroken and she doesn't want to see anybody right now. She wants to drop to the ground and close her eyes and never wake up. Because dying is easy. And living, well that's a real hell. Dying is easy. That's unfair.
ii
Lorena wakes up with a start. She rubs her eyes and glances at the clock. The digits shine in a hypnotic manner. "It's five o'clock in the freaking morning," she groans. But that's just her luck. She's one of those people who can remember bits and scraps of her former life. And, of course, they are something like nightmares. Because no, she couldn't have been some obscure woman in a small village that didn't get into trouble. She had to be brave and stuff, and get herself in trouble. "Note to self, no more adventures. Ever!"
And back into the mattress she crashes with a huff. Lorena closes her eyes and buries her face into the cool pillow. "This feel so good!" It's better than good. It's awesome and it's distracting. What more could she possibly wish for?
Queasy all of a sudden, she rushes to the bathroom. "You have got to be joking. God, this is not even funny." The coppery taste in her mouth makes her sick. There is something utterly disturbing about being able to remember that she simply gave up on everything and just waited for death to claim her. Part of her wants to rage at that. What kind of stupid person would surrender just like that? She had survived a war and instead of rebuilding, she shuts herself down.
"That's me alright," she says to her reflection in the mirror. For the briefest of moments staring back at her is another woman who wears her face so well. "Go away," Lorena mutters, splashing water all over. "Sod off!"
"Who are you yelling at? It's five o'clock in the morning," her mother's harsh whispers jolt her out of her trance. "Lorena, why are you even awake? Go to sleep."
"Right away, ma'am," she mocks under her breath. Nobody gets her. It's so frustrating. Her mother thrown her a look to which Lorena has the grace to blush. "Sorry."
iii
Thorin gently braid her hair, not speaking. They are in a dark room with straw on the ground. Lori is lost in her own thought and an old song keeps playing in her head. It's some sort of lullaby her mother used to sing when she was a wee child.
The female thinks about all sorts of things. She longs to be back home, where the sun shines and the fruit are fragrant. But she doesn't really want to leave Thorin. So home will have to wait a bit. A little more maybe. And anyway she can't make it out of this cell. Waiting for a saviour is all that she can do at this point. And since she doesn't know anything about any of her friends or her cousin, the saving might take a while.
Still, she is content enough to sit here and let Thorin braid her hair.
iv
The wind blows, cold and biting. Lorena scowls at the heavy clouds and hurries along. Her hands are deep in her pockets and the volume of her music of choice high enough for the whole street to her what she's listening to. "It might make you deaf," a friend tells her to which she shrugs. "So what?" she replies. "At least I won't hear all this nonsensical talk around me anymore."
The fact is Lorena hates stupidity. And since too many individuals of the human race are stupid, she hates a great number of her fellow race members. As if to prove her right, she sees a couple of dimwits walking about, swearing as loud as they possibly can. She only hears it because the tracks are changing. "See what I mean? Morons!"
Laughing at that, her friend shakes her head lightly. "You are entirely too harsh with them. We can't all live up to your expectations. It's exhausting. Some of us are not as strong as you."
"Whatever." Lorena crosses the street and turns to face her friend. "Someone had to say this. It might as well be me." She smiles, almost bitterly so.
"Hey, cheer up," her friend encourages. "At least we didn't get blasted into a million tiny pieces when crossing by some drunken idiot who thinks that rules don't apply to him.
Pasting a faux cheery look on her face, Lorena complies to her friend's wishes. "Yay, I'm so happy," she utters unenthusiastically.
And in the crowd, a tall form stands out. Lorena catches him for just a moment as he disappears taking a corner. Her head snaps into movement, neck twisting to follow a lingering shadow. That man, he looked exactly like the man in her memories.
A/N: Special dedication to LianaDare8 who pretty much requested I do a reincarnation piece where the two souls actually remember their past lives. So, here goes the first part. Will be continued...