When Thorin closed his eyes, he could almost feel at home. For the very first time in a long time, he was sitting at a table in a decent place, with good food in his plate and a warm fire roaring in the kitchen hearth. It was a pleasant sensation. It reminded him of Laurelin, and the warmth of her smile, and the music of her laughter. It reminded him of the comforts she was offering him daily. But then he opened his eyes again, and all he saw was a group of Dwarves, an old Wizard and a shy, nervous Hobbit. He sighed deeply. Bag End may be a comfortable place, but it was not home. And the presence of this « burglar » - or whatever else Bilbo was – only reminded him of what was awaiting them at the end of their journey.
That night when he went to bed, he thought about Laurelin more than any other night before. He hoped she was all right. He hoped she didn't lack anything. He hoped she was not too sad to be alone. Then he heard Fili and Kili laugh in the other bedroom, and he thought about Dis, too. He had left so much behind.
It took him long to fall asleep, and when he slept at last it was a restless sleep, full of dark dreams. He was quite glad when the morning sun woke him up, announcing another day of travelling. The Hobbit was still asleep, so the Dwarves left in silence, to not wake him up. Obviously Bilbo had made his choice, and he had chosen not to come with them Thorin would not drag him along by force. Little Bilbo was too soft, too gentle to survive in the wild anyway. It was better for him to stay home, with his books and his comfortable armchair.
They prepared the ponies and left Hobbiton as quickly as possible. They still had a long journey ahead of them.
Two hours later, though, they were surprised to hear Bilbo's shouts behind them. He was running towards them, with Balin's contract in his hands. He was breathless and flushed from his effort, but he had signed the contract, to Thorin's utter surprise.
What will I make of this one ? He wondered. Bilbo would be something of a burden, to them, Thorin was sure about it.
But Gandalf, at least, seemed to be pleased to have the tiny creature around.
They travelled all day long. Soon it started to rain, and they were all wet to the marrow of their bones. Most Dwarves complained loudly, but Thorin kept his bad mood to himsel it was not only the rain who annoyed him, but also that ever-present fear that gnawed at his mind whenever he thinking about Laurelin. Her picture never left his mind. She was with him, in his thought, from morning till evening. The fact that he had no news from her – and would have none till the end of his quest – made him feel frustrated and grumpy. He didn't know what she was doing, or if everything was well for her was she safe ? Did she have everything she needed ? Did she cry at night because she was feeling too lonely ? These questions kept tormenting him, to the point where sometimes at night he walked away from the camp to brood alone in the darkness. Most of the other Dwarves believed it had something to do with the quest, or with the prospect of having to fight a dragon soon, but Balin and Dwalin – who were Thorin's best friends – suspected it was about Laurelin, even if none of them ever talked about it with Thorin.
Some nights were even worse than others. Sometimes, Thorin missed Laurelin so much that it was almost a physical pain in the pit of his stomach on such days, Thorin wondered what had taken him to go on this quest. Did they really have a chance te kill the dragon and reclaim Erebor, or was this no more than a useless waste of precious time ? Would it not have been better to stay home, at Laurelin's side, where he was truly needed ?
Even Fili and Kili's bright mood were not enough to cheer up Thorin they laughed and they joked and they saw this quest as no more than an exciting adventure, unaware of the dangers lying ahead of them. Thorin did his best to always keep an eye on them, and so did Dwalin, too – because even if they were now adults, and good warriors, they had never known any hardship or real battle. They were not yet as hardened as the other Dwarves, and there was still a bit of childless naivety left in them. Thorin hoped they would not lose in on this journey. He hoped they would come out of this unscathed, because they were his kin and he loved them as much as if they were his own sons.
Once they had left the Shire, they reached a wide stretch of wildlands. The gentle towns and merry little roads disappeared, only to be replaced by steep rocky hillsides, or deep dark pine forests that swallowed the light of the sun, making them walk in darkness even at the brightest hours of the day. Bilbo – as Thorin had guessed – was as useless as he was clumsy the Hobbit had obviously never ridden a horse, and never spent a night out of his beloved little town. He was no help whatsoever, yet Thorin watched as his companions slowly got attached to this strange little fellow.
Every other night, Thorin pulled Laurelin's necklace out of his pocket, when he was alone and no one could see him. He loved to watch it, and stroke it with the tip of his fingers it always reminded him of all the good times he used to share with Laurelin... when they worked together in the forge... when they spent long evenings playing cards or dice together... the endless dinners around the old table, laughing and chatting like a pair of carefree children... He hoped with all his heart and all his soul that one day, after the quest, he would be able to go back to this life with Laurelin. A dozen of days after they had left the Shire, the idea that maybe they could be more than just friends hit him at last. He tried to imagine living with Laurelin as a couple, and was astonished at how appealing this idea was to him. He wondered why he had never thought about it before, when they had still been together.
Why do we always realize things when it is too late ? He wondered, sighing bitterly.
Part of him wanted to run back to the Blue Mountains and tell her what he was feeling, but of course he couldn't.
They met their first real danger with the Trolls, and Thorin still wondered how Fili and Kili had been able to not notice the giant creatures when they had come to stole the ponies if his two nephews had spotted the enemy first, they might have been able to avoid putting themselves into danger, but they had acted like a pair of silly children and risked everybody's life with their lack of caution. In truth, if Gandalf had not appeared they would probably all be dead by now Bilbo had played a part in saving them, too, but Thorin was too stubborn to admit that maybe he had been wrong about the Hobbit's uselessness.
Once the Trolls had been petrified, Thorin has walked away while the other Dwaves had freed each other from the ropes and the bags. He had grabbed Laurelin's necklace once more, and tried to find some comfort in its familiar shape. He still remembered how warm it had been when Laurelin had given it to him, and this thought helped him feel better. It had become some sort of talisman, to him. The mere fact of touching was enough to give him back some strength and determination, because it came from Laurelin. It was as if part of her travelled with him through this dark, shiny piece of stone. He had never shown it to anybody, and he didn't mean to. It was something between him and Laurelin. Whenever he was in doubt, he thought about the promise he had made himself on the day of his departure : reclaim Erebor, so he can be with Laurelin again and offer her a better life than what she had so far. The necklace – and the memory of the woman who had given it to him – gave him a sense of purpose. It was as if she had turned into something like a guardian angel. Someone who watched over him and guided each of his steps.
I just hope I will be able to tell her all these things one day. He reflected, with fear in heart. The idea that something might befell him before he could tell her how much he loved her was agony. He had to stay alive, for Laurelin's sake.
Laurelin watched out of the window, and sighed as she realized autumn was about to come to an end. The village was covered in a thin layer of frost, the first sign of winter. Six months, she realized. Thorin had been away for six months already. Sometimes it felt as if he had been gone for years, and sometimes she remembered every details as clearly as if it had happened the day before. Her days and her evenings were lonely without him even when she was busy helping Dwna in her shop, Thorin's absence was like a hole in her life, something that nothing but him would be able to fill. Sometimes she spent a fewhours with Dis, who felt just as lonely as Laurelin without her sons. Grief and worry had marked her beautiful face she had lines on her brown that were not there before, and her lips had forgotten how to smile. Her eyes were like a pair of bottomless pits filled with fear. Whenever they had a chance, they clung to each other and talked about their fears and their hopes, and all the things they missed now that their beloved ones had left them behind.
« If only we knew what they were doing. » Dis complained one evening. « If only we could have some news from time to time... »
She shook her head, and Laurelin saw that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
Several nights later, as she struggled to fal asleep after one more lonely night, Laurelin came up with an idea. Rivendell. Of course – it was obvious. Thorin had said nothing about halting in Rivendell, before his departure, but Laurelin had heard tales about it it was the last civilized place east of the Misty Mountains, and the Dwarves would probably have no other choice but to make a halt there, if only to replenish their provision bags, or to rest for a few nights before crossing the mountains. It was definitely worth a try.
She didn't even wait for the morning : she jumped out of her bed and started preparing the package at once. At first she folded and packed Thorin's dark blue velvet shirt, the only piece of clothing from Erebor that he still had left she knew how attached he was to it. She knew it would give him courage to see it, to feel the fabric between his hands. It had been barely more than rags when Thorin had left for Erebor, torn and worn and patched up, but Laurelin – in a desperate attempts to keep her mind busy on something during a very lonely night – had decided to work on it and to make it as good as new. She had spent the night finisheing it, and the next day she had been exhausted, but whenever she looked at the result she realized it was worth it. She was quite porud of herself. Her first intent had been to keep it in her clothing chest, and to give it to Thorin once she would join him in Erebor (if such a day ever happened) but now everything had changed.
Then she also packed the few coins she still had left from the chest Thorin had given her ; the money Dwna gave her every week was enough for her to live her quiet little life, and maybe Thorin had more need of it wherever he was. It was no more than five or six coins, but they were of silver and would probably be of a great help to him. She also sent him a letter, to tell him about everything that happened her in the village and to reassure him about her own life. She didn't want him to worry uselessly. She had ended the letter with a few words that would go straight to his heart : « No matter how many months will go by, you will always be in my thoughts. »
When she was done, she wondered how she would get the package to Rivendell. She thought about contacting one of the travellers in the village of Men, down in the valley, but they idea to venture into their town on her own was frightening her. And neither Balin nor Dwalin were here to help here, either – so she turned to the only persone she truly trusted. She turned to Dis. The other woman nodded slowly when Laurelin had told her about her idea.
« I will send Urggo and Riesdan with you. » She said. « I trust them, and so does Thorin. They will protect you if things go awry down in the valley. But wait – just a minute ! » She left the living room and came back later, with a package of her own. « For my sons, » she said. « They might be happy to be on their own and away from their old mother, but well... I want to remind them of a promise they made me. » She shrugged, and pushed the small parcel into Laurelin's hands, as well as a coin to pay the traveller. « He will ask more money if he had two packages to carry, so here's my part. »
Laurelin nodded, and smiled.
A few hours later, Laurelin was on her way down to the valley. The weather was fine, with sun and a blue sky, even if the wind was starting to get cold. It took them half a day to reach the valley, and then Urggo suggested a tavern called The Black Aurochs. There, they found a few travellers ready to journey to Rivendell some of them asked for exorbitant prices, and Urggo warned Laurelin against another one, but the last man they spoke to seemed to be honest enough. Laurelin paid him and then gave him both packages, then she insisted he had to reach Rivendell as quickly as possible. He just nodded, and left at once.
Laurelin watched him ride away on his big chestnut gelding, her head full of questions. What if Thorin does not stop in Rivendell ? What if he had already left Rivendell and her package comes too late ? What if the man betrayed her ?
So many things could go awry, and the hope that the package would truly reach him was after all very small – yet she didn't regret. She had had to try something, or else she would have gone mad with worry and frustration.
Please, Mahal, do not abandon us now.
When Thorin realized Gandalf had led them to Elrond's home, he was furious. Elves. He had seen enough of them. Yet at the same time he knew they had no other choice after this terrible attack, they needed to find a safe place, to rest and to recover. So he just followed the Wizard into Rivendell, and he listened to Lord Elrdond's greetings with a sullen face. Next to him, Dwalin glared at the Elves as if he wanted nothing but to kill them all.
One night, he decided. We won't stay here more than one night.
After dinner, once their bellies were comfortably fill – and although the food had not been to everybody's taste – they relaxed and spent a pleasant evening together. Thorin was quite surprised when suddenly an Elf came to talk to him, telling him he had something for him.
« F... For me ? » He stuttered, taken aback. It was so unexpected that for a time he didn't even know what to say.
« Yes, Master Dwarf. For Thorin Oakenshiled. »
He hesitated, then he followed the Elf into a small room. The walls were decorated with paintings representing a sunny forest. The tall Elf picked up a small package on a table, and gave it to Thorin.
« Who gave you this ? »
« A traveller. » He said. « Somebody paid him to bring this package here, and your name is clearly written on it. » Thorin looked down, and saw the neat, elegant letters in the piece of parchment. He recognized Laurelin's handwriting at once, and his heart started beating faster. How could she know he would spend a night here, when he himself had not known it a few hours ago ? How had she guessed ? He couldn't believe it, but at the same time he felt a wave of relief and impatience wash over him. This package had been made by her own hands. He looked at the worn burlap bag she had used to wrap, and tried to imagine her fingers tying all these knots together. Suddenly his own fingers were trembling as he realized what this meant : Laurelin thought about him as much as he thought about her. The idea that she might be feeling for him the same way he was feeling for her made him slightly giddy, to the point where he had to struggle to open the package. It took him a while, but when everything was unwrapped at last he contemplated Laurelin's treasures with moist eyes.
The first thing he saw was his blue velvet shirt, the only relic from his past life in Erebor. Everytime he looked at it, Thorin remembered the old times, when his life had still been quiet and carefree, but on this day – as he stroked the soft fabric with his fingers – it meant even more to him, because he was close to regaining what they had lost so many years ago. And it had been mended, too. Is was as beautiful as new even the tiniest holes had been mended, and the worn seams had been made anew. Laurelin had even found a way to bring the faded blue back to its original splendor. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was like being back in time, to a time when he was still young and when he had thought life would be easy.
Fulfill this quest, and our lives can be easy and carefree again. He reflected.
Then Thorin saw the silver coins, and bit his lips and sighed. Laurelin... why did she do this ? Thorin was sure she would have needed this money, too. The idea that she had sacrificed her own comfort to help him made him feel uncomfortable, because he had done nothing at all to deserve such a kindness. He couldn't help but worry about Laurelin, who had kept nothing for herself. Did the seamstress pay her well, at least ? Did she have enough money to live comfortably ? These questions refused to leave his mind.
And at last, he saw the letter. His heart melted as he read her words. It brought back so many good memories – all those evenings they had spent together, when he had been teaching her to read and to write... And all the evenings that had followed, when they had read the same book together, or when they had played endless games of cards together... he missed the smiles, the laughter, the chattering and the easy companionship he shared with the woman, but there was also something more, something he hadn't quite realized while he had been with her. Only now, as they were so far away, did he truly understand the strength of his feelings for her. He sighed deeply, and touched the letter with the tip of his fingers, as softly as if he had been touching her.
« Laurelin... » He whispered sadly, hoping he would see her again soon.
When he joined the other Dwarves again, he pulled an old piece of parchment out of his bag, as well as a bottle of ink and a quill everything was a bit battered after such a long journey, but it would do. Thorin wrote a wuick letter to Laurelin, to tell her everything they had been though so far. He talked about the Hobbit and about the Trolls, and thanked her more than once for her gifts, and he ended the message by telling her to take care of herself. He also chose a pretty elvish cloak to send back to Laurelin he was sure she would appreciate it, even if it was much too long for her. Since she worked at the seamstress's shop, it would be easy for her to shorten it. Or maybe she could even sell it, and obtain a nice little handful of gold coins in exchange. Either way, it would serve her.
Half an hour later, Thorin found an Elf who said he would make sure the package would rezch its destination in the Blue Mountains. Thorin hated the fact that he had to entrust something so important do Elves – Elve's, for Mahal's sake ! - yet there was no other option for him.
Next morning, after they had crept out of Elrond's home before the break of dawn, the Misty Mountains stood in front of them, tall and threatening. They had no other choice but to climb across this obstacle, even if none of them truly enjoyed the prospect of clambering on steep, rocky mountainsides. Yet somehow, Thorin felt better than before rzaching Rivendell now that he had the proof Laurelin was all right, now that he had been able to send something back, he was somehow apeased. He could keep his mind concentrated on more important things – like staying alive, which was not exactly an easy task. First they encountered a gang of angry stone giants in the mountains, and they almost lost half of the company Fili had been among them, and for a frightening moment Thorin thought he would never see the young Dwarf again. That thought crushed his heart, but moments later they had found all their companions safe and sound. Thorin felt such a relief when he saw Fili alive that his legs turned to jelly for a few moments. He smiled as he watched both nephews hug each other, but once more they had been close to death – and they hadn 't even face the dragon yet. Would they even reach Erebor, or would they get killed before ?
And then things got even worse, when they fell into the trap set up by the Goblins, in the cave. Thorin had never seen a city as appalling as Goblin-Town stinking and filthy, and all these ugly Goblins warming around them like oversized, disfigured insects. Thorin saw his kin and his friends getting pulled and dragged and beaten by the ugly creatures, and once more it was Gandalf who saved them all by allowing them to grab their weapons again. Once Thorin had his sword in his hands, at least he was able to defend himself again, and they all fought their way out of the caves Mahal must have loved them, because none of the Dwarves got injured during this battle. Just a few scratches here and there, but nothing noteworthy.
Once outside, they realized little Bilbo was not among them anymore. Thorin, always quick to doubt the little Hobbit,was sure he had fled back to Hobbiton – or maybe Rivendell – but Biblo proved him wrong by reappearing out of nowhere a few moments later. Thorin watched him intently, and listened to his words about helping them to get their home back. Somehow, it stroked a sensitive cord to see that tiny, helpless creature so ready to brave all the dangers of an unfriendly world, just to help a band of Dwarves he barely knew. The courage it must take, he reflected, yet he was too proud to admit it openly, and even if he had wanted to say something he would not have had the time to, because the Orcs chose this precise moment to befell them once more.
They ran, as fast as their tired legs allowed it, only to end up cornered on a narrow promontory surrounded by empty space. The all realized, all of a sudden, that they would not escape. Not this time. They tried to climb the trees to avoid the wargs, these hideous creatures that looked lile some oversized cross between a dog and a hyaena, but they all knew it would not save them they were just delaying the inevitable end. Gandalf did his best to help them, using his magic fire to repell the creatures, but even that was just a trick to gain a bit of time.
And then Thorin saw him : Azog, the pale Orc, with his white skin and his scarred face. Thorin couldn't belive his eyes.
It can't be possible. I killed him. All these years ago, in front of the gates of Moria, I killed him. How can he still be here ?
Thorin's eyes searched for the arm he had cut away, so long ago, and saw that the beast had replaced it with a deadly, sharp weapon that made him look even more terrifying.
« Mahal protect us. » He whispered, but his words were swallowed by the roaring of the fire and the screams of his friends.
Thorin looked around him, at Fili and Kili, his beloved nephews... Balin and Dwalin, his long-time friends... and all the others, brave Dwarves who had the courage to follow Thorin on this dangerous quest, even knowing they might find death on the roads... He watched them all as they were trapped in the burning trees, their eyes full of terror and their features twisted by fear.
I am their King. Thorin realized. It's up to me to protect them. Besides, he wanted to finish off Azog once and for good. Let's rid the world of this nuisance.
He took a deep breath and stepped forward, his elvish sword in his hand. He looked Azog straight in the eyes as he walked towards him, surrounded by the flames of hell. I am not afraid of you, Azog, and I will not die like a coward.
After a few steps he started running. He was ready to fight. Ready to put his last energu, his last strengths into this battle, if need be.
Then he reached his enemy, and a pair of iron jaws closed around him. He felt giant fangs rip through his clothes, then he he was thrown in the air as of he were nothing more than a wisp of straw. When he fell on the ground, the air was knocked out of his lungs, and a wave of pain engulf him from head to toe. He felt himself starting to slide into darkness he tried to fight and to keep his eyes open, but it was a battle he could not lose. Very dimly, he saw little Bilbo jump down from his tree to run at Azog, his tiny sword in his hands.
Does he realize how derisory he looks, in front of a monsters like Azog and his warg ? He has no chance. No chance at all.
Then Thorin's eyes closed, and he tumbled down into the depth of unconsciousness.