A/N - The end and a beginning.
Disclaimer: I, in no way whatsoever, own any of the canon characters, places, or things found in this story. All belong to Tolkien, and I make no profit.
Odd. Everything felt strange...the tongue in his mouth was warm, the stone beneath his legs solid; these should be, would be normal, but he was wrong, and he sensed dread, recent, close. Fingers responded, recalling and wiggling in beneath some fabric to find a mortal wound, one delivered by Azog before he had returned the favor. He remembered begging Bilbo's forgiveness, and the cold of ice against his back as the hobbit had demanded that he live. But he had not; he stood no chance against the loss of blood and embrace of death that took him and his strength.
Death...his eyes snapped open and there she was. Grey stone walls, bleak and strong, stood around them, the damp air peculiar in his nostrils. He was still dressed in simple warrior garb, save for the crown that he felt weighing on his brow. Hovering above him, dangling as if they were ensnared by invisible trap lines, were two golden coins, and before he could ask, she spoke, "Do they look familiar?"
He could not tear his eyes away from her. Aisa had always been beautiful to him, but in this cavern of rock, she shimmered like the moon on a clear harvest night. "I know the coins."
A wan smile, it never came close to the apples of her cheeks, "Are they the only things you know?"
He sighed, the weight of all that had passed between them bearing down upon him. "No. It seems that you will haunt me no matter what."
The words had come crueler than he had intended, and he actually saw her wince as she uttered, "You've given me very little choice."
Willing his wooden limbs to move, he sat up clumsily, the world spinning as he struggled to settle. He gasped as his vision stilled, focusing on his motionless body, the Arkenstone cradled in hands that were his and yet not. His voice sounded hollow, disembodied, and terrified, "Aisa!"
"Peace, Thorin."
A command, one that beckoned to him from a time that seemed ages ago, and it soothed him, the softness stilling the rising fear that he managed to express, "What is happening here? What is this place?"
"It is your tomb," she said flatly, almost as if it should be obvious.
"Then how am I alive within it? What horrible spell is this?"
She shook her head, her lips shaped in an ugly sneer. "You think this is my handiwork? This is your folly, oath-breaker. What I have done is keep you from wasting away."
His confusion must have been obvious, because she continued, "You are not alive; no more so than me. Your kin brought your body back to the stone. They have mourned and accepted your passing. It is time for you to do the same…"
A wail, it rose from deep within, and everything crumpled as it all came rushing back. "Return me to them, witch! You keep me here, so undo this farce."
She smiled at him, one full of pity, "No, my sweet Thorin. I cannot give you back the life you have lost, nor can I return you to Erebor. I wish that I could."
Her sympathy deflated him, the fight draining from him as he heard the truth, cold and real, in her words. "But, the dwarves will need a leader. We had just regained the mountain, barely knew it as our home. I am not ready for…"
"No one ever is. But, your part in all of that is over."
The coins spun slowly as they lowered before him, landing in the palm he turned upward toward them. Her voice never stopped, "You killed Azog, and countless other foes, which dealt a serious setback to the evil that Middle-earth faced. You have done what you could as King under the Mountain."
Tears flowed unabated, as the finality of it hit him hard, and she approached him, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek as she gathered him into her arms. He lost all sense of time; it no longer mattered how long he sobbed against her shoulder, as she allowed him to grieve, to process all that had passed. Eventually, when he had quieted, she murmured, "Even if I had the ability to help you, there are others who would hunt you down—the Father is never refused. As his servant, I can tell you that no one escapes him. All I have done is bought us some time..."
"For what?"
"A choice, and maybe, a second chance."
He was lost. "I don't understand, Aisa…"
"I know, but you will, after I give you the explanation that you have always sought from me. I only ask one thing: that you hear everything I have to say...all of it... even the parts you may not wish to."
He nodded; he would agree to anything to finally have answers as far as his beloved was concerned, "I will hear you Aisa, but I want honesty in return—no misleading half-truths or compassionate lies."
"Then, we have agreed to terms, again." She smiled and stood, offering him a hand. "Come...there is a place you need to see."
The moment the tips of his fingers touched hers, the walls spun in a dizzying blur, the stone melting and shifting into blackness, until all that he could find was her in the inky depths. She lifted her free hand above her head, curling her digits into her palm, and a tiny light pulsed within her grasp. He watched it grow, in wonder, the brilliant white light increasing in both frequency and intensity. He shielded his face in reflex, and he heard her laugh, "You no longer have mortal eyes, Thorin. Look!"
Violet, blue, yellow, red—so many shades of all the colors blossomed around them, above, below, behind—it was as if this place was appearing before them, existing solely to be theirs. Trees, grass, stone, and earth formed to her whim as she bent the physical to her very will, but while the materials were familiar, the land they formed was not. They stood in a meadow, with a beautiful blue sky and a sun warm upon them, surrounded by tents and livestock, but he saw no inhabitants. "Where are we, Aisa?"
She began walking amongst the camp, and he followed after her. "The beginning. This is where my journey started, and where I choose to share it with you. Do you remember the day you found me in Evendim?"
"I will never forget it."
"Nor I. From the second you stepped foot inside my home, I knew who you were, what you were destined for, and I even knew the hour of your death. But, none of those things really mattered at the time. All I saw was a vulnerable, would-be king—easy prey, that I could manipulate into my debt. Something that would be useful, eventually, even if I did not know for what."
"A fool...that is what I was," he sneered, getting angry with himself all over again for being so desperate.
"Maybe so, but you stumbled upon a bigger one. I should have known to stay away, to never involve myself with your quest, but I was arrogant, convinced that one dwarf could do me no harm. So, the plan was to help you with minimal involvement, and to leave you in Bree as soon as I could. But, somehow it started to change. I followed you to the Shire, and told myself that it was mere curiosity. Then, watching no longer satisfied me, so I came to you in the mountains. All the while, I claimed that it was concern for an asset that drove me."
She reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, bringing them to her lips for a kiss. "Somewhere between Evendim and Lake-town, I fell for you, Thorin, and it undid me. I was terrified because I understood all of what was to come when you made it to Erebor. As a Daughter, I am bound to never interfere, so I could not warn you or stop you. So, day after day, I hoped in vain that something or someone would steer you from the path that I recognized would lead to your end. When nothing deterred you, I did the only thing I could—I demanded you give me the hobbit in payment."
"Why?" he thought he knew, but he had to hear it from her.
"Without Bilbo, you would never step foot into the mountain. Durin's Day would have ended in failure, and you would be alive right now."
"Maybe so. But, I no doubt would be in danger, and resentful that I failed my people. And you?"
"Gone. The living have no need for me."
"Then, I made the right decision."
She paused, her eyes locked with his. "We will see if you still feel that way when you know everything, when you know all of what and who I am."
Forgotten, the coins resonated in his hand as she continued, "Your life became mine when you broke your oath. That is why I was able to keep you with me, to delay the Father long enough to explain."
"Then, tell me what you are, Aisa."
They were approaching the edge of the settlement, moving toward a larger tent with streamers of red cloth that spun in the breeze. She stopped before it, the shadow cast by the structure barely touching her toes, and her voice was a whisper, "A witch...a mage…"
"More than that," he grumbled, "You agreed…"
She cut him off. "To tell the truth. I am all those things…and others, as you said. But, to truly understand what I am, you must understand who I used to be."
Her eyes found his, and auburn burned within her irises, matching the flickering banners of the tent. "As I've told you before, there was a time when I lived without magic. We hunted upon the beasts of land and water using bow and spear."
"We?"
"My clan consisted of hundreds, and we existed, wild and free, before the ages of Elves and Men. Middle-earth provided us with all that we needed, and I lived what I thought was a content and fulfilled existence. My people were strong, resourceful, and ready to defend the land we worked hard to survive upon."
"They had a good leader…"
"The drive to thrive was within all of them; all I had to do was harness it. There is no motivation like hunger or cold to push a people to its best abilities. But, even so, my clan was not the only one trying to subsist upon the land, and one day we ran into a rival faction. Myself and several other elders went out to meet their members on neutral ground, to size them up, to see if they were friend or foe. The two groups met on the field, and I came face to face with..."
"An enemy?" he asked.
"Yes...and my future lover."
He hated himself for the instantaneous jealousy he felt. She continued, "We exchanged words, idle threats, all a show really to see which of us would submit to the other. He was bold to challenge me, but there was this undeniable pull that I felt towards him. In truth, at the time I thought it was a bloodlust, that I yearned to best him in battle. When he spoke the words of claiming, my fellow elders went mad…"
"The words of claiming?"
"Rener demanded my hand or my spear, as was the custom of my people. I gave him the spear."
He laughed then, "That is not surprising."
Her smirk was unmistakable, "If you want something bad enough, you will fight for it. That lesson stands true, no matter the era. If Rener wanted me, he would have to prove it. I was an elder and a warrior, not some maiden that could be easily stolen."
He dared to return a smile, "Did he win?"
"Not that day," she grinned, eyes twinkling, and he could see she was centuries away, lost in her memories. "Nor the next. But he never gave up. Every day, we would dance with blades and it would end in my victory."
"Seems like a weak man if he could not best you…"
"Weak? No. There is no shame in being determined, even if it's against what seems to be an insurmountable foe. There is always something gained, even in defeat. His tenacity and willingness to adapt, those traits made him an unbelievably gifted warrior. He was biding his time, learning my weaknesses, waiting for me to make a mistake. He could challenge me a hundred times if necessary—the only time it would matter would be the one where I lost; the ninety-nine others would be forgotten. The day he finally won, I told him that a lesser man would have given up long ago. He nodded and said, 'A lesser man would not be worthy of you.'"
She paused, and he saw the glassy surface of her eyes, "It matters not that all of this was millenia ago, Thorin, it hurts to this very day."
He was almost afraid to hear, "Tell me."
"We were joined at dawn, as was custom, and then we spent the day alone together in our binding tent. I gave my beloved everything a wife can and should on that day. That night, our camp was raided by my husband's own jealous kin."
"Why?"
"They had lost a fierce warrior, while my clan had gained one, and they saw him as a traitor. We fought, naked as our name day, back-to-back, and we managed to take out some, but they had us outnumbered. Once they subdued us, they made us watch as they butchered my clanmates that had survived the raid...and then they…"
A flash, and the streamers became tongues of flame as the tent hissed and burned before them. Smoke and flame rose all around as a group of warriors appeared from the billowing clouds. Blades pulled, they formed a circle around their target, moving in for the kill. To his left, he saw a woman kneeling over a lifeless body, hysterical, blonde hair matted with blood and dirt. He realized then, not only where but when she had taken him. "Aisa...I'm sorry…"
A wave of her hand, and the woman, the soldiers, the camp—vanished; all that remained was the meadow. She nodded, "And, eventually, so were they. This is the place where the bastards left me for dead, next to my husband's corpse. I used my last mortal breath to scream, enraged and vengeful, hungry for an answer...and Mandos responded."
A chill ran through him at the name. It was one whispered by fearful children, and only priests would call upon it. She continued, "When my soul came before him, he asked his wife Vaire to strengthen and lengthen the thread of my life. I became what I am now, a Daughter of Fate and Death, and I do the Father's bidding throughout Middle-earth. He gave me the revenge I sought for a price, one I willingly pay in unending servitude. When death came for those that murdered my people and my husband, it was neither kind nor swift."
There were no words. He had always suspected, and long known, that his beloved was more than just a mage. But, he could not find the courage to believe what she was telling him now.
"Aisa…"
"You promised to hear it all. You wanted the truth, and with it, you can make your choice. It is my gift to you, albeit a meager one. I cannot return you to your friends, but you can spend eternity with me, if and only if you wish it. Or, you can choose to pass on, to go to the Father for rest."
"So, my options are oblivion or an eternity as death's minion?"
She laughed at him, "No. Only the Father can make you one of his servants, and if you were chosen, he would have come for you already." She paused, lips lifting smugly, "You would be my minion, and your work will be much more specialized."
"I am not evil, Aisa. I cannot do what you ask."
"All I ask from you is companionship, Thorin. You think me wicked and terrible? Open your eyes to the real world. To those that deserve it, I bring an excruciating demise, one full of the agony and despair that they have caused others. To everyone else, I bring mercy and succor; I am the cleanse that is required to soothe away their aches and burdens. Death is neither good nor evil, just necessary."
She sighed, "But, I will not force another existence upon you. Maybe you desire the peace that the stone-sleep provides. Or maybe, I have betrayed you beyond the point of forgiveness or trust, and you need to be rid of me. So, your options are oblivion or an eternity as my husband, and you must decide."
How could she think he would refuse her? He lost all sense, pulling her to him, her words leaving him heady and needy. Teasingly, he murmured, "Your husband? But, I have never said any words of claiming..."
"You have, and I belonged to you eons ago—nothing has changed. Souls never really die, Thorin. They leave the mortal realm for rest and eventually return to it. I did not know you when you found me in my lair, but I believe Rener has come home to me."
Doubt bubbled inside him, the nagging creep of honesty making him speak, "I don't know that, Aisa. I…"
"You would not. You do not remember the life of Rener, no more so than any other that your soul has seen. But, I know, Thorin."
It didn't matter. He wanted her, wanted this, and he would not argue. "How do I choose?"
"The coins. Return one to me."
He opened her hand, pulling the fingers loose from her palm, and placed her coin within it. "I know what I want, it is all that I have ever wanted, really. I would follow you anywhere, Aisa. Unending peace loses its appeal if you are not there to share it. Give me your hand, or your spear, I will take either. I am yours."
She kissed him, and if his lungs still held air, he would have been breathless.