All Rights remain with J.R.R Tolkien and whoever made the movies.
I was in an angsty mood when I wrote this. you have been warned.
This Was Ours
By iamCAMBRIA
Chapter 2: Dreaming of Once-Was
Both Balin and Bellissima sat in uncomfortable silence, but finally the older spoke up first, his fingers softly drumming on the kitchen table.
"You're still wearing your marriage braid," he noticed.
Bellissima nodded. "I couldn't cut it. I thought that, if I did, I would've forgotten him somehow. This little braid reminds me that it was possible for someone to care about an ordinary little hobbit."
"You're far from ordinary, lassie," Balin murmured.
"But, I mean…" She paused to sort out her thoughts. "What I mean is, I didn't have a single suitor before the quest. But now, they all come rushing in with thoughts that I may be the richest hobbit in all the Shire!"
"That's 'cause you are."
"Thorin didn't love me for any of those reasons. He loved me for me." And then, "They don't love me," she whispered. "I see it in their eyes. They only want me for my money. As kind as we hobbits are, we can get extremely greedy."
She instinctively put her hand into her waistcoat pocket and fingered the heavy gold ring that rested there. She loved the ring—the smooth gold that it was made of, the comfortable weight of it in her pocket, the cool feel of it under her finger. She withdrew her hand from the metal warily. A grimace crossed her round facial features. Was this how Thorin had felt at the discovery of the Arkenstone? Would her beautiful ring—the reason why she was dubbed 'luck wearer'—corrupt her as the Heart of the Mountain destroyed Thror, Thrain and Thorin?
"There was such a creature, though, who loved you for your heart," Balin said.
Bellissima looked away, her arms wrapped around herself.
"Thorin is lost to me, isn't he? He can't even remember my name."
Balin sighed. With slow and deliberate movements, he walked to where Bell sat on the ground. He reached out his hand and she gratefully took it, allowing him to pull her up. As soon as she was up on her feet, Balin released her hands and grabbed her shoulders.
"Bellissima Baggins," he berated, "Thorin Oakenshield, though he may not remember you, is not lost to you. For the love of Durin, he's alive! Is that not better than him being dead?"
Bell nodded, not uttering a peep.
"Miss Baggins," Balin stated, "you hobbits never cease to amaze me. One moment you're as happy as a cow, and the next as sad as a rainy day." The hobbit allowed herself a tiny smirk.
"Oh Master Burglar," he chuckled. "As long as the both of you are alive, there is the hope that he could remember you, my dear. Love is very powerful, and Thorin is very stubborn; our King under the Mountain will not let a case of amnesia separate him from the one he loves."
Bellissima smiled at him, but still wore a pained expression. "He is rather pig headed and stubborn, isn't he?"
"As are you, lassie!" Balin grinned trying to lighten the mood, his long white beard scrunching up along with the skin on his cheeks. "I know that once you get to Erebor, you'll try to knock those memories right back into him."
Bell's face fell. "I won't do that."
Balin pulled back from her, blinking in surprise. "What? Why not?"
"Because," she spoke softly, "Thorin is stubborn. If he doesn't even remember me, how could he know that he had once loved me? How could he trust my word? Thorin is so in love with the tradition of you Dwarves, he would never believe me if I told him."
"So what do you plan to do?"
"Let it happen all over again."
"Pardon?" Balin asked as if he couldn't comprehend why she was saying her statements.
Bellissima sighed. "If it is still the Thorin I love, then maybe, he will be able to love me again on his own terms."
The white Dwarf did not reply.
"Balin, I cannot expect you to understand; it's just something I think I have to do. Thorin sacrificed everything for his claim over Erebor. Perhaps our love was never supposed to happen. Maybe, just maybe, this is a way for him to start over without having to worry about his hobbit fiancée. This might—"
"Now stop right there, Miss Baggins," Balin commanded, before continuing in a softer tone. "I believe that proposing to you was the best choice Thorin ever made."
"The circumstances were dire," she pointed out, looking down at her ridiculously hairy feet. "We were on a journey to slay a dragon and an accident happened."
"I do not believe that Bellissima." The Dwarf snapped. "Every time my king looked at you, I saw a look that no love of gold could replace ever compare to. He loved you, my dear hobbit. Just remember who put that braid in your hair."
Bellissima glared at him, frustration ebbing at her nerves. She was not ready to take in this news at this time of night. Confounded Dwarves and their ill timing. She stepped away and pulled out her table seat. With an angry grunt, she sat down. Balin nodded and went back to his own chair. With a puff of his bearded cheeks, he sat down.
"So, tell me about your journey," Bellissima demanded, looking at Balin with a steady gaze.
He nodded.
"I fear it is not quite as exciting as our trip to Erebor had been, but I certainly didn't mind. It was three months travel time, as we were able to travel on the main roads the whole time."
"We?"
"I didn't come by myself lassie. I brought a pony too."
The hobbit sighed with relief.
"The weather was good, so I traveled well. A few days, though, there was much rain and even thunder—that was when I was passing through the valley of the storm."
Bellissima shivered.
"Wait, where's Bell?" Bofur shouted over the howling wind. They had all narrowly escaped being smashed to death by rock giants.
"Someone help me!" she shrieked, her hands slipping from their grip on the slick rock. Her legs and body dangled heavily. She felt as though she was going to be ripped from her arms.
"Grab my hand, Miss Bell! Grab on!" the Dwarves screamed in panic. She reached out for Kili, but her other hand slipped on the wet rock. She screamed as she fell further. Thankfully, she caught onto a crevice; her body slammed painfully against the stone. The other arm hung limply and uselessly.
This is how I will die, she thought, terrified. I am going to fall to my death.
"Bell!" Thorin roared as he crouched down, his left hand grabbing onto the edge of the wall. With great precision, he slid down the side of the wall so he could reach further than the others. His strong arm kept him steady. His other hand reached out. His storm blue eyes held a horror she hadn't understood at the time. Why was he afraid?
"Bell, grab my hand!" he bellowed, his voice echoing with fear and worry.
"I do not like the Storm Mountains," Bell whispered with a shudder.
"Aye," Balin agreed. "Hardly anyone does, but the road through there is the quickest way to get here."
The teapot whistled as if responding to the Master Dwarf. Bellissima and Balin were startled by it, for they had forgotten about the tea. The hobbit got up to retrieve the beverage, but Balin held up a halting hand.
"If you don't mind, Miss Baggins," he said, "I'd prefer to retire. It has been a long journey—admittedly, not as long as some—but I am old and the road has made me weary."
"Of course. Follow me, Master Dwarf," she said, leading him to the back room walking away stiffly, her muscles clenching from having sat for so long. When had it gotten so dark out? Balin followed.
She led him under the arches of the threshold of the kitchen into the hallway. With the quiet feet of a burglar and the loud feet of a warrior, they walked down the small hallway. Bellissima paused at a round door. Her heart burned like the fires of the mines of Erebor. It felt as though it was shriveling and turning into ashes. So broken, so broken.
"This is your room," she said, pointing to the door with her thumb.
Balin walked to the door and placed his hand on the knob. He turned his head and glanced at her.
"Thank you, Miss Baggins."
"Just shout if you need anything," she instructed him before turning on her heel and leaving the old Dwarf alone in the hallway.
She walked back to her kitchen numbly. Her body felt like lead. Her mind swam in chaos. Her thoughts pounded against her skull like a hammer to an anvil. Her heart burned like the fires of the mines of Erebor. It felt as though it was shriveling and turning into ashes. So broken, so broken.
With clumsy hands, she grabbed the kettle and poured the tea water down the drain of the sink. She no longer wished for it. In fact, she felt sick to her stomach. With a groan, Bellissima stumbled back to the living area where she had been reading earlier.
She crawled into her armchair like a child. With a sob, she buried her head on her knees; the fabric of her skirt scratched the skin of her face. With a helplessness she could not suppress, Bellissima placed her arms over her head and began to cry Thorin was alive, and he didn't—couldn't—remember her.
Thorin was alive…
…and he didn't love her…
† † †
The moon glowed brightly and the stars twinkled happily, their light reflecting on the river. Bellissima looked upward, allowing the night sky to pour its beauty on her pale face. Beorn's house was their only safe haven, and she planned to enjoy the little bit of rest that should could. The plants all danced around her in the breeze, and the water burbled.
"Bell?"
She turned around to see Thorin approach her. His black hair was streaked with gray, giving away his aging years and stress. His clothes were dirty and torn, telltale signs of the brutality of their journey. Yet, he didn't seem any less handsome or regal—even more so.
"Thorin," she whispered, a smile lighting up her face.
The prince came up to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body close to his. His beard tickled her forehead and his long midnight locks entwined with her tawny curls. Bellissima breathed in his scent, his smell of metal and furs. Thorin used his large hand to tilt her chin up so she could face him; even though he was a Dwarf, she was so small next to him. And Thorin was tall for a Dwarf—although, not as tall as Dwalin.
"It is late," he said gently, his voice lulling. "You should be asleep."
"I know," she replied quietly, their blue and hazel eyes clashing. "But I couldn't sleep."
"Neither could I," Thorin admitted.
"Thinking?" She asked.
He hummed and nodded, and, to her disappointment, he pulled away from her.
"You are lucky, Miss Baggins, that you will never have to lead a nation of people, or even a group as small as our company. The responsibility is great; and now I have even more to worry about."
Bell felt her heart drop as Thorin turned away from her.
"New things to worry about?" she asked.
"I have to keep in mind the Witch King of Angmar," he responded, "the Orc attacks, the Elves, and now…"
He paused. Bellissima swallowed.
"Us," Thorin murmured turning to face her again. He walked up to her, his figure almost towering over her. "Bellissima, I want to be able to guard and protect you all of your life. There is only one way I can do that."
Her stomach fluttered around like a lost butterfly.
Thorin reached out and cupped her face with his large hands. Tenderly he stroked her right cheek with his thumb.
"Bellissima Baggins," his beautiful voice whispered, "I know that you and I did not see eye to eye at first. But now, I cannot even imagine my life without your spirit or courage. Bellissima, would you live your days—whether we win this quest or not—with me? To be the light in the darkness of myself?"
Bell couldn't do anything to stop the small tears from rolling down her face. Thorin wiped them away lovingly. She smiled at him, her hazel eyes as large as the moon itself.
"Yes, Thorin, yes," she whispered, her heart practically overflowing with happiness.
Thorin heaved a sigh of relief and rested his forehead against hers.
"Then I look forward to being able to call you mine kin for the rest of eternity." He murmured.
"As do I," she whispered back.
Thorin kissed away the rest of her tears, his love for her stronger than almost anything he had felt in decades. Then, he reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out three bronze beads. His hands went to the side of her face and grabbed a few strands of hair in his hands.
"Thorin, what—"
"Hush." He commanded.
Bellissima quieted, but she was curious still.
With nimble fingers, Thorin braided the strands of hair into a simple plait, like one of his own. When he had woven as far as he could, he braided in the beads to her hair. With a satisfied nod, he tied it off and looked proudly at his work.
"What is it?" Bell asked.
"A marriage braid," he answered lovingly. "It is a custom among my people. This way every Dwarf, Elf, man, and hobbit will know that you are mine, and mine alone.
Her lips trembled at his love for her.
Thorin leaned forward and touched her chin gently with his fingers. He bowed over her until their lips were almost touching.
"I love you, Bellissima."
"I love you, Thorin," she murmured against him.
And then their lips met, warm breaths mingling, both hearts flying.
† † †
Bellissima woke up with a start, her hazel eyes wide and full of tears. The hobbit's home was dark, but she was glad for it. She must have fell asleep crying on the chair. But it didn't matter. The brave hobbit who had tried to kill a dragon had long given into sorrow that night. With a pained sob, she touched the braid that rested against her skin.
"Thorin."
Thank you to markstn41, MidnightRaine, Scyler, and Mira Meliandra for reviewing! Please, the rest of you read and review. It means much to me if I get some sort of feedback.