The next two days stretched into an eternity. The people of Laketown spent hours swimming through the frigid water to the shore; only a few undamaged boats remained. Most had either burned in the fire or had been capsized or sunk as a result of the wave. Those who had watercraft at their disposal spent their time rowing to and from the shore, ferrying people across from Laketown and saving those left behind to freeze or burn. I was put to use by a kind old woman who knew of the healing abilities of elves, and I spent my time doing my best to heal those with severe burns or lacerations.
Every few hours one of the princes would fetch me and drag me out to help Tilda and Sigrid search for Bain and Bard. The girls were frantic, digging through makeshift tents all along the shoreline and searching the faces of every passenger brought to the shore by the remaining rafts. Bofur helped them search while the princes and I searched the bodies littering the shoreline and floating in the shallow water nearer to the shore.
After the first few times, I refused. Every time I returned to my post, I would be ashen faced and weak, of little use to those in need of healing. My heart sank at the thought of brave Bard, who had given his life to spare those who had locked him away, and of loyal Bain, who had rushed to his father's aid without a thought for his own safety.
As I removed my hands from a child's back, uncovering the nearly healed burn that stretched across his skin, shouts began to fill the air. The little boy, who couldn't have been more than five years old, stood and lifted his arms as I slathered the wound with some sort of medicine and wrapped his torso and back with bandages.
"Thank ye, milady," he said softly as I helped pull his tunic over his head.
"You're welcome," I answered. "What is your name?"
"Micah," he answered, whipping his nose with a grubby sleeve.
"It is an honor to meet you, Micah. Where are your parents?"
His big blue eyes filled with tears, and he hung his head, twisting the fabric of his shirt in his tiny fists. "I dunno. Papa got me out of the house, but he fell in the water, and the someone in a boat picked me up and brought me here." His teary eyes held mine, and my breath hitched. Soot streaked his skin, and his dark hair hung sloppily around his thin face. "Are they okay?"
I knelt down and wrapped my arms around him, careful to avoid jarring his back. "I don't know, little one," I murmured into his hair. "But I am sure the Valar are watching over both you and your parents."
The woman in charge, Freida, appeared suddenly, waving around a dishrag like a whip and muttering loudly. "—Alfrid!" I stiffened, jerking around at the name. "I swear, if that man so much as thinks he can steal our supplies, I'll—"
Before she could turn around, I ducked out of the makeshift door, heading for the crowd, which was steadily growing louder. I still clutched Micah to my chest; his skinny arms remained tightly wrapped around my neck like a vice, his face buried in my shoulder. The crowd parted for me.
"Micah!" A frantic woman tore through the crowd, blue eyes wide and full of tears. An equally disheveled man followed in her wake, limping along as quickly as he could.
The child's head lifted off my shoulder and looked around wildly. "Mama?" he cried out. "Mama?!"
"Micah! My baby!" She reached me, and I held the boy out to her gently. She took him into her arms, weeping, and clutched him to her chest as she sobbed, sinking to the ground. Her husband reached her and knelt down beside them, taking his wife and child into his arms.
"Mama, Papa!" Micah was crying too, his eyes squeezed shut.
"My baby, my baby, you're safe now, Mama's got you, you're safe," his mother continued to whisper over and other, rocking back and forth on the cold earth.
Her husband stood, leaning heavily on his uninjured leg. He bowed to me as best he could. "Thank you," he said, voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for saving my son." All I could do was nod as my throat and heart ached. There was something about seeing this family together, something about holding a child in my arms that made me want to weep, whether from grief or joy, I did not know. Because of my wounds, I could not bear children. Oh, how I wanted them, so badly—but it would never be. Some wounds cannot be healed.
The man lifted his wife and boy and led them away. Micah waved at me over his mother's shoulder. The crowd parted automatically for me now, villagers nodding their heads respectfully to me as I passed. I strode forward, head held high, until I reached the center of the circle. There, to my complete disbelief, stood Bard, Bain at his right hand. He held Alfrid's wrist in an iron grip, and his dark eyes smoldered with rage.
I gasped, freezing where I stood. "Bard?"
"Da!" Tilda and Sigrid appeared out of nowhere, nearly knocking me over in their attempt to be the first to reach their father. They ran to him, and Tilda leapt into his arms and wrapped her legs and arms around him, nearly knocking him over. He wrapped his arms around his daughters securely, gripping them so tightly as if to ensure they would forever be safe from harm. I glimpsed Alfrid being held by several villagers, but a thought blocked out any and all concern I held for the people. They could work out their own problems.
I remembered my brother suddenly, and my blood turned to ice as surely as if I had been doused in the freezing waters of the lake. Legolas had been in the town when the dragon arrived, hadn't he? He and Tauriel—if they had been injured, or killed—
I stepped away and began pushing through the crowd, searching every face. How had I not thought of him before? How had I forgotten? "Legolas?" I shouted. I reached the edge of the crowd and began running towards the tree line. He would have gone there, wouldn't he? He wouldn't have stayed with the townspeople, surely— "Legolas, where are you? Legolas!"
A flash of gold caught my eye, half hidden by the trees. I stopped, teetering on one foot, unsure whether to run forward or not. "Legolas?" His head and torso emerged from the foliage as he ran forward, keen eyes darting this way and that, searching for something, for someone—for me. "Legolas!" I screamed. I ran forward, moving so swiftly I might as well have had wings. He ran forward as well, desperation and relief prominent on his face. When I reached him, he lifted me off my feet, wrapping his arms around me. I could feel him shaking, and I realized that I was shaking and crying as well. One hand fisted my braid, the other pressed against my back.
I could hear the relief in his voice as he spoke, and he held me securely as if afraid I would disappear if he let go. "Aeyera, you're alive—I heard about the dragon, and I thought you—I feared that—" The unspoken "or killed" hung in the air, and I gripped my brother tightly. He arms trembled, and his heart drummed so forcefully against his ribs that I could feel it against my chest.
"You got away," I breathed, feeling warm tears drip down my cheeks.
He let out a breathy laugh of relief. "Yes, little sister, we got away."
"Aeyera!" We both turned to see Kili and Fili walking towards us. The elder held my pack, my bow and quiver strung over his shoulder. Kili glanced between Legolas and I, confused, before his gaze settled on me.
"We're leaving now," he told me softly. His brown eyes softened as I smiled at him. "I'll meet you at the boat." He turned and headed back towards the shore, his brother following behind.
I released my hold on Legolas and stepped back, resting my arms at my side. I twisted his ring around my finger. "I must go."
"Stay with me," Legolas said suddenly. I stared at him in surprise. "You're a part of my family, Aeyera."
I looked over my shoulder at the dwarves, who were leaning in to speak to one another as they walked. Kili nudged his brother, and Fili clapped him on the shoulder. I could hear Kili's laugh from where I stood, and my heart swelled. "So are they, Legolas." I pulled up my tunic to reveal the scars inflicted by Thranduil when he beat me. "But Thranduil is not. I no longer have a place among the wood elves."
His face, which had been the same for all the years I had known him, seemed to age ten years. He looked crestfallen. "But I'm your brother," he whispered, sounding confused and hurt. My heart felt as though it were being torn in two.
I reached up and rested my hand against his cheek. "And I will always be your little sister," I whispered back, hugging him once more time. I breathed in his scent, like pine needles and rain. I pulled away. "Goodbye."
He made no move to stop me as I turned and ran, choking back tears. I made to avoid the throng, but when I saw Alfrid pull Tilda from Sigrid, yelling something to the crowd, I swerved off course and tore through the assembly. Something within me snapped. I reached her side just as the little girl brought her heel down on the deputy's foot. He shrieked and released her, then turned in time for my bow to whip him across the face. He spun in place and collapsed to the ground, cursing.
"Alfrid Lickspittle," I growled, gripping my bow tightly. I all but spat his name, and he rose unsteadily to his feet, cupping his swelling cheek.
His eyes burned with hatred, and his unibrow furrowed angrily. "Who do you think you are? I'll have you flogged for this—" An arrow was nocked to the string and inches from his face before he finished speaking. He stared down at the arrowhead, going cross-eyed to keep it in view.
"Do not touch speak to me of punishment," I snarled. "If anyone deserves a flogging it is you. You are a pathetic excuse for a human. You are lesser than a dog." My hands were steady, and my heartbeat thrummed in my ears. It would be so easy to let go, so easy to end him now…
"Princess." Bard stepped up and grasped the arrow shaft, lowering it to face the ground. The spell broke, and I blinked, confused and horrified at what I almost had done. "Enough."
I took a step back, sheathing my weapons. I pointed at the sniveling man cowering behind the bowman. "Get rid of him, Bard," I told him. "Send him to Thranduil, or somewhere else in the East, but do not keep him here." A flash of a vision entered my mind, and I shuddered. Bard looked confused. "He will bring ruin upon you all. Send him away."
I turned and began to walk quickly towards the boat. "My lady, sending him away would be the death of him."
I stopped dead and turned my face so he could hear me, but I did not turn around.
"I know."
The crowd parted for me, stepping out of my way quickly. Rage filled me, clouding my mind, and the old marks on my back throbbed. I remembered the crack of the whip, the burning, tearing feeling of my skin being ripped apart and stripped from my body. I shivered, and my hand went to the runestone hidden in my pocket. The curved surface pressed against my chest, and I took a deep breath, clearing my head. The dwarves waited for me at the shore, and once again I marveled at how short I was, that Fili and Kili both stood eye to eye with me.
They watched me with concern, and Kili took my hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm ready," I said softly. I smiled at he and his brother and stepped into the light craft with the others, picking up an oar.
We began to row towards the opposite side of the lake, heading towards the mountain looming in the distance. As we sailed, we made slight conversation. I spoke to Fili of his betrothed, Kída, whom I had not thought of since before our capture in the Misty Mountains.
He smiled happily, but his eyes were sad. "It has been so long," he murmured, staring down at a ring upon his finger. "I wonder if she will recognize me."
"It has not been so long," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder.
"It has been seven months," he replied softly. After a moment, he lifted his head. I was reminded again of how regal he seemed, almost like a lion. "I miss her," he whispered.
I leaned forward and placed my hand on his, clasping it tightly. "Fili," I whispered. "I know how you feel, and I know how difficult it is to be separated from someone you love." My throat grew tight, and my eyes stung. I remembered my vision of the two princes falling, pierced by a dozen arrows. I forced a smile through the tears that burned my eyes. "But do not worry. You will see her again very soon, I am sure of it." I would not allow them to die. I would take every arrow meant for them, if it meant that they would live. I thought of the tales of our afterlife, how we would pass into the Halls of Valinor before being incarnated. Incarnated as what, I was not sure. An elf? But my people were leaving Middle Earth; there would soon be few of us left. I frowned, brow furrowing. A man? Hobbit?... Dwarf?
"Thank you, Princess," Fili murmured. He tugged his hand away gently, then dipped it into the lake and splashed his face.
"Aeyera, would you… If Bard hadn't stopped you, would you've—?"
Kili was stumbling over his words, and my heart sank. Would I have killed Alfrid if Bard had not interfered? I did not know. I shook my head, keeping my eyes on the wooden planks at my feet. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kili's hopeful look falter, then fall completely. Fili and the others turned around, moving to the front of the craft to leave the two of us alone in the back.
"I do not know, Kili," I whispered. "I would like to think I would not have done so, but… something changed the night I was healed, Kili." I looked up and held his gaze, aching for him to understand. "I was not myself. The darkness… it defeated me. It was driven back, but it left its mark, and I am afraid that I am changed because of it."
I closed my eyes as tears threatened to spill over my lashes and down my cheeks, and opened them as a large, warm hand engulfed my own. "I refuse to believe that," Kili murmured. "You are good, and pure, and fair. You are a fighter, Princess. You will not be overcome by something such as this. You are a child of courage, Tindómiel." I looked up in surprise at the sound of the elvish name on his tongue. "You need not fear the darkness."
"Tindómiel means Daughter of Twilight," I whispered.
"And I thought that you loved best the light of the stars," he countered gently. I stared up at him helplessly, my heart hurting. He leaned forward until our foreheads rested against one another, and I closed my eyes as he placed his hand on my hair, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "Amrâlimê," he breathed.
I smiled slightly, letting out a puff of breath as I opened my eyes. A tear fell down my cheek, and he caught it on his thumb. "I don't know what that means," I whispered.
He smiled, his nose brushing against mine. "I think you do," he said softly.
My heart broke, and I fell against him, letting all my emotions pour out from me. All the sorrow, all the anger, all the confusion, and all the love poured out of me as I sobbed into his shoulder. The knowledge that he would die, that I could do nothing—it broke me. And that is how I knew I was whole. I would not be able to weep had I been consumed by the darkness, and I knew I was still pure, still good. Kili's arms wrapped around me, and he rocked back and forth as I wept for the future that would never come to pass, for my mother, and brother, and for the dwarves I had grown to love so much. I knew that no matter the consequences, I would protect them, even if it meant losing my life. With that knowledge came peace, and the sun set on our little boat of outcasts: two dwarves who had lost their home; two princes, born in exile; a forgotten princess. The sky grew dark, and it was twilight when I finally lifted my face to his.
We were nearly to the shores of Erebor, and I spoke to Kili as we neared the beach. "Everything is going to change now, isn't it?" I asked.
He nodded, his eyes sad. "Yes. But that does not change us, Aeyera," he murmured. He kissed my forehead, and my heart throbbed and swelled all at once. I understood now what I had not had the experience to seven months ago when first I met him. I loved Kili. I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.
"Will you stay with me?" I touched his cheek with a shaking hand, my fingertips brushing his beard softly. The boat bumped against the shore, grating against the rocks beneath the kingdom of the Dwarves of Erebor.
His dark eyes searched mine, his face solemn. He brushed a loose curl behind my ear, cupping my cheek. "Till the end."