Thorin had left the Blue Mountains a week ago, and the weather was absolutely fine : the sun was shining in a bright blue sky, and the temperatures were almost too warm for the season. Even though they were in the middle of winter, it felt like an early spring. Travelling would have been pleasant, for Thorin and his sturdy little pony, if the King of the Dwarves had not worried so much for his father. But Thrain's picture never left his mind day and night, Thorin had that knot in his stomach every time he tried to imagine where his father was.Is he suffering ? Is he slowly dying ? Is he captive of the Orcs ? Or even worse ? It drove him mad with worry, so he he kept urging his pony forwards, without taking the time to linger anywhere or to admire the beauty of the landscapes surrounding them. They crossed mountaineous hillsides and grassy flatlands, stinking bogs and grey wastelands covered in thorns and bushes.
In truth, Thrain had never been an affectionate father he was a strong and severe Dwarf, but Thorin had still grown a deep bond with him. Every now and then, memories from his childhood came back to Thorin's troubled mind – like the first sword Thrain had offered him, or their trips to Dale, or all the hours they had spent together talking about the duties and responsibilities of a king...
« I need to find him. » He said resolutely, and his loyal pony only snorted in response.
And then there was Laurelin that haunted him, too. Usually, during the day, Thorin didn't really think about her, because he had to keep watchful and attentive, and there was always so many things to do. A moment of inattention could mean the death of them both. They had met no enemy so far – nothing worse than an angry boar – but this didn't mean the land they were crossing was safe enemies couold be lurking in the shadows, biding their time, waiting for the right moment to attack. Thorin's eyes and ears were constantly on the alert, and his hand was always ready to grasp his sword. Besides, the land here was dangerous in itself – steep and rocky, full of holes and deep cracks. One wrong step, and the pony could break his leg, which would undoubtedly mean his death. And then Thorin would have no other choice but to turn back and go home, because he could not possibly carry all his gear by himself.
But in the evenings, when Thorin sat alone in front of the fire, or just before he fell asleep, he couldn't help but think about Laurelin - and not because he missed the comforts she could have given him, of course. He knew how to prepare his own food, or how to make his bed, or how to do all these things the young woman usuall did for him. He knew how to manage on his own. But he truly, sincerely missed her pleasant company : her smiles, her voice as she softly hummed for herself while working, or her light footsteps all around him when they worked together in the forge... She was the familiar, reassuring figure that made his life complete – and now that she was gone he missed her with unexpected strength. He felt like his days were empty and tasteless, without their endelss conversations and their cosy evenings together in front of the fireplace.
Two weeks or so after his departure, as Thorin settled under his blankets to sleep, an old memory of Laurelin came back to his mind as he watched the stars above him, so bright in the velvety black sky. He remembered one particular evening, on their way to the Blue Mountains, when he had found Laurelin sitting alone on a flat rock, looking at the stars. He had felt his heart melt to see her so lonely, so he had joined her. They had not talked much, that evening, but somehow it had brought them closer together. And today – several decades later – Thorin still remembered it as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. He felt suddenly very nostalgic, and he sighed. It would have been so pleasant to have her at his side... He wondered what she was doing at this very moment. She was probably already asleep, or maybe reading in front of the fireplace after a pleasant day of work at Balin's library. He was reassured that she had accepted his offer to work with the old Dwarf, because he knew that Balin – and his brother Dwalin, too – would watch over her, if need be. He didn't doubt Laurelin's ability to manage on her own, but he mistrusted some of the travelling Dwarves that sometimes halted in the village for a few days. There were not many women among the population of the Blue Mountains, so if they found one who was not engaged Mahal only knows what ideas they could come up with.
Stop worrying, he chided himself. You did your best for her. And she's not a little girl anymore. She knows how to manage on her own.
Yet he couldn't stop thinking about her. He felt a bit guilty for leaving her behind like that, but on the other side he didn't really have a choice. He couldn't just leave his father to his fate and forget about him. This was unthinkable. He would have hated himself for the rest of his life, if he had stayed home quietly, without doing anything to help Thrain.
He contemplated one last time the bright stars, then he pulled the blankets over his body in a vain attempt to keep himself warm.
When he closed his eyes, it was still Laurelin that he saw. He imagined her laying in her bed, peaceful and serene, with a half-smile don her lips as she dreamed. It made him feel warm from the inside. It quieted his fears, and helped him fall asleep.
Several days later, he crossed a small town – the first one he encountered since he had left the Blue Mountains. In a dusty shop help by an old woman with grey hair, he bought several rolls of empty parchment and a bottle of black ink. Then he wrote a letter for Laurelin. He started by apologizing for not giving her any news sooner, but since he had been lost in complete wilderness it had been impossible for him to send her anything. Then he told her, with many details, everything he had seen and done since her had left her. There was nothing very interesting to tell her, so far, so he hoped she would not be bored by all the useless details. Then he told her that he misses her, but without telling her how much he missed her, because he feared it would be inappropriate to express such feelings. He didn't want to make her feel uneasy. Then, at the very end, he wrote some words for Dis, Fili and Kili, and a few other friends. He knew he could trust Laurelin. He knew she would pass the messages along as soon as she would get the letter. As a conclusion, he told Laurelin he would write to her as often as possible, but he could give her no guarantees since he didn't know where his researches would lead him in the following days and weeks.
Then he sealed the letter with black wax, and geve it to some traveller he had met in a tavern. The man took a few gold coins, and accepted to bring the letter to Laurelin in the Blue Mountains. Thorin didn't know whether he could trust the man – it wasn't in his nature to trust strangers – and he kept wondering if the man would be true to his word. What if he keeps the gold and throws my letter into the mud as soon as I will have my back turned on him ? But what other choice do I have, truly ? Probably none.
As he watched the man walk away with the precious letter, Thorin realized how glad he was that he had taken the decision to write. He felt relieved. The mere thought that Laurelin would soon hold it in her small hands was comforting him. He wondered what she would think of it, and hoped it would reassure her.
He spent the rest of the day and the following night in this nameless village. And next morning he resumed his travelling. There was nothing in front of him but rocky wastelands, with small thickets of low, twisted pine trees. It was a dreary landscape, and the dark clouds gathering in the sky made it look even more sinister. Soon it would rain, Thorin was sure about it.
More than ever, he was glad that Laurelin had not come with him. Knowing that she was at home, safe and warm, brought him comfort even as the first fat drops started falling from the sky.
The worst moments for Laurelin were in the morning, when she ate alone in the kitchen before leaving for the library, and in the evening when she came back home just to find it cold and empty, without Thorin's comforting presence. Going into the forge was almost impossible for her, because every time she saw the dark and cold oven it reminded her of Thorin's absence, and woke her feelings of loneliness. Cleaning the house – which she only did twice a week, now that the house was unoccupied most of the time – was hard too, because everytime she entered Thorin's empty bedchamber she felt a pang of sadness. She did her best to dust and air the room whenerver she had a bit of time, but it still smelled stuffy. Sometimes she fell asleep with tears in her eyes, and every night after blowing her candle she prayed Mahal for Thorin's saf and quick return.
Of course, working with Balin was a great help – not only financially, but also because it kept her mind off her worries. Balin was kind and soft-spoken, and he always had a gentle word for Laurelin. The young woman had immediately felt at ease with him, as if they had been friends all their lives. The work she was doing for him was pleasant, too : Balin gave her old, damaged books or scrolls that had been saved from Smaug's fire by the fleeing dwarves, and then she copied them onto new sheets of vellum or parchment. She loved the smell of new paper and ink, and when she started writing she was concentrated on the letters that she forgot about everything else. More often than not, her hands were black from ink when she was finished, but Laurelin didn't care about such details.
And she learned more about the history of their people, too. She read old tales and myths, and even started copying a huge, heavy book about Durin's reign, so long ago. It made her feel oddly proud to belong to such a great folk : right aftetr the fall of Erebor, when they had fled from village to village, living at the expense of the humans, they had been insulted and despised, and treated barely better than dogs. But now she slowly understood there was no reason to be ashamed of who she was, or where she belonged to. It gave her back a sense of pride, and it was a wonderful feeling.
But as soon as she left Balin's home, Thorin filled her mind again. She owed him so much, and she also missed him so much... She couldn't help but wondering where he was, and what he was doing. Of course she did her best to keep grief and sadness at bay, and to concentrate on happier things : imagine how proud he will be when he will see what you have done with Balin ! Imagine how alive the house will feel again, once he is back home !
But at night when she was alone in the house, sadness and loneliness crept back into her mind, making her lose sleep in spite of her exhaustion.
And then one day, almost two months after Thorin's departure, a strange man stopped in the willage – a real Man, not a Dwarf. He was tall, with short bushy hair and a pointy face, and dark eyes. Laurelin was so surprised when she heard him say her name that she almost dropped her basket stuffed with food. She hesitated for a few seconds, then she took a few steps that brought her in front of him. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Dwalin and a few other warriors, eyeing the strange warily, but them man didn't seem to be a threat. He smiled, then he shoved a yellow, dirty piece of parchment into Laurelin's hand, then he nodded briefly and turned around. Moments later, he had disappeared again.
Laurelin was so shocked that for a while she didn't even move. She just stared at the road where the man had walked moments before. Then she remembered the parchment. She looked at it, and when she recognized Thorin's black seal her heart started hammering in her chest. She hurried home, and opened it so quckly that she cut her finger with the knife-opener. Her hands were trembling with impatience.
She read each and every one of Thorin's words with eagerness. He didn't tell her anything of importance – he had made no discovered about Thrain, at the time he had written this – but she enjoyed it nonetheless. She smiled when she read how Thorin had managed to escape an angry bar in the forest, and she blushed when she read these words : She felt slightly dizzy. She had waited for a letter – or news of any kind – for so long, and now that she had gotten it at last she was feeling exhilarated.
He hasn't forgotten me. She reflected, her eyes shining with emotion.
Then she read the letter again, just to burn every word into her memory. Even though Thorin had promised her to write as often as possible, she knew it would not be on a regular basis. Weeks or maybe even months could go by till she would get another one. Her only regret was that she couldn't reply. She would have loved to tell him how much she enjoyed working with Balin, and how much she was relieved now that she knew Thorin fine – and other things, too. So many other things. But things being as they were, it was impossible for her to give him any news of what was happening at hom, so she just let out a frustrated sigh.
Several hours later, she walked out of the house, still very happy. Thorin had given her a few messages to transmit to his friends and family, and she was more than glad to do this task for him. She talked to the Lady Dis over a piece of cake and hot tea, then she visited the others, and when she was done the day was almost over.
During the months that followed, four more letters came to Laurelin, carried every time by another person. She read every one of them with the same eagerness as the first one, and she always savoured Thorin's words as if they were a treasure. They were the rays of sunshine that helped her go though the grey haze of loneliness.
And then one day, a sixth letter reached her home. It was short, but it brought Laurelin both intense joy and horrible sadness.
I didn't find my father, and I probably never will. Persisting in this quest would be useless. I'm coming home, now.
He had written no more than this. At first it felt like a stab in her heart, because she just knew how much pain this caused Thorin – she could almost feel his pain seeping though the words – but then another though got the upper hand : He will be home soon. She realized. He will be sad, angry and dejected, but alive.
Laurelin wondered where he had been when he had written this letter, and how long it would take him to reach the Blue Mountains. She hoped he would be there soon, because the sooner he was at Laurelin's side again, the sooner she could comfort him.
The sky was bright and blue, yet Thorin's mind was as dark as a thunderstorm cloud. He was not sad, no – he was devastated. He had finally understood that everything had been in vain. He had waited too long to search for his father, and now it was too late. There was nothing left – no evidence, no track, nothing. If Thrain was still alive somewhere, he was beyond help. Thorin's heart was filled with bitterness and resentment, that ate at him day and night, like poison. He hated himself for being unable to find his father. He hated himself for being such a useless, unworthy son. He hated himself for being so far from the grandiose king everybody thought he was.
Yet somehow, as every step brought him closer to the Blue Mountains, slowly his fiery anger faded away, replaced by a deep sadness that made him cry tears of despair in the darkest hours of the night, when no one but the stars and the wild animals could see it. More than once, grief threatened to overwhelm and consume him, but every time this happened it was Laurelin who kept him going. Laurelin and her smile... Laurelin and her kindness... Laurelin and her gentle soul... The softness of her voice... And every time her picture bubbled up in his mind, it gave him the courage to get up in the morning, and to climb on his pony's back for another day of travelling. He clung to his memories of her and drew from her the strength to keep going.
Days turned into weeks, and then one morning he saw the hight peaks of the Blue Mountains at the horizon. They truly looked blue, from where he was standing.
« Home. » He whispered to himself, and as he pronounced these words alour he realized how much he had missed it. His house, his forge, his sister and his friends – but more than anything else, he had missed Laurelin. The idea that soon he would see her again made him suddenly smile. It would be good to be reunited with her again.
He took a deep breath, and resumed his journey ; since the ground was flat and even, he kicked his pony in the ribs to make him trot. With every step they were taking, Thorin's heart was growing more impatient to reach home.
A few more days later, they reached the roots of the Blue Mountains. Thorin felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine as he realized he would see Laurelin in less than a week. He urged his pony forwards. Later, when night fell on the mountains, a bright and full moon rose in the sky, casting a ghostly light on Thorin's surroundings. Thorin decided that this light was enough for them to keep walking, because he didn't want to lose one single minute.
When he stopped at last, to grant a few hours of rest to his brave little pony, he was unable to find sleep. Being so close to home made him restless. He tossed and turned under his blankets, and then in the middle of the night it suddenly dawned on him how much Laurelin counted for him. She was a friend, of course, but also more than that. He was even closer to her than to Dis, lately. For several decades, she had been at his side every day, from morning to evening. Her presence had become an essential part of his life. If something happened to her, or if she left him, it would leave him completely broken. The thought that she had become so close was both warming, and a bit frightening – because never before had he felt so vulnerable. Never before had he depended on anyone else like that. As if his own life didn't really belong to himself anymore, but to Laurelin. His throat tightened and his heart started hammering in his chest, and for a fleeting moment he wanted to run away. For a man like him, who had been taught from earliest childhood that you have to be strong and fierce to survive, feeling such things was terrifying. But then so he took a deep breath to calm himself.
Stop fretting, he chided himself. What are you worrying about ? It's Laurelin. Sweet, kind and gentle Laurelin. There's nothing wrong in admitting that she had become indispensable. There's nothing wrong in admitting that you need her presence around you. Nothing at all.So stop being an idiot, and go home to find her.
Next morning, he woke up before dawn after a few hours of anxious sleep that left him even more tired than he had been before falling asleep. He was exhausted, yet he climbed the mountains as fast as possible, because he was eager to see Laurelin. Not Dis, not Fili or Kili, not Balin or Dwalin – no, he wanted to see Laurelin. Only her. Of course he loved his sister, his nephews and his friends. They were all very dear to him, but Laurelin was something different. Something stronger. Something overwhelming, that drove him forwards even when the muscles in his legs started protesting against the efforts.
Three days later, he saw the first houses of the village.
I'm coming, Laurelin. You won't have to worry anymore. I'm coming.