Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not my own, yadda yadda yadda. I'm not making any money off of this. (Though I wish I could.)
A/N: Wow. So much love you guys! I can't believe that I have so many followers and reviewers. This story has been in my head awhile and it's been therapeutic for me to write it out. I never expected the responses I have gotten. Thank you guys.
If there is a scene that you guys really want me to work in, please let me know and I will try my best.
After the touching display of respect and admiration, Gandalf shooed everyone out of the room so that I could rest and my wounds could be tended. Only Thorin remained and, despite Gandalf's stern glare, he did not budge.
"I will only leave if Talya asks it of me." He stated firmly, arms crossed over his broad chest. Gandalf glanced at me.
"Its fine, Gandalf," I said softly. The wizard let out a sigh.
"Very well… A healer will be in to check you soon, I would think." He tipped his hat to me and walked out, closing it tightly behind him.
Thorin had not moved from my side once he had stood from his bow. He was watching me with mixed emotions and for a short time, we sat quiet, not knowing what to say, my hand in his. So much had happened between us over the last few days. Hell, over the last few months.
"Where do we go from here?" I asked, voice soft. Thorin turned soft eyes to me, slowly running his thumb over the back of my hand.
"I would have us go home," He answered, his voice full of longing.
"Home," The word tasted strange on my tongue.
"Yes," He tripped over the word and his next came out uncertain. "I have no right to ask you to return with me, Talya. I know this. I have wronged you. I have spoken harsh and unfounded words to you, spit them at you with such venom. Worse still, I shamed myself and laid cruel hands on you…"
"It was not you who laid his hands on me. I was not the Thorin Oakenshield that I know. That I love. I know you would never hurt me like that." I interrupted. "And we have both said and done things we regret."
He leaned forward to gently press his lips against my forehead, murmuring something softly and rapidly in Khuzdul. I frowned a little.
"Common tongue, please." I said. He smiled wryly.
"I asked Mahal what I have done to deserve you."
"Oh…" The words were so blunt and honest that it shocked me.
"Is the whip-tongued and sharp witted Talya shocked into silence?" He said, voice light, teasing. "The very woman who told my cousin Dain to shut his mouth, who called an elf-king 'prick'?"
I flushed and mumbled inaudibly. He chuckled then.
"If my people know nothing else of you, it is that you are not to be roused in anger."
The mention of his people, his subjects, made me frown and I felt worry blossom within me. I didn't know how I was going to stand by Thorin, King under the Mountain, and be called Queen. When I had accepted his proposal I had not thought this far ahead, not truly. Thorin was supposed to have died, and if he didn't, I had expected to die in his place.
"What worries you so?" He asked, brows furrowing in concern.
"I am not fit to be anyone's queen, Thorin. Least of all yours."
He shook his head slowly, his dark hair, dried now with light curls, brushing over his shoulders.
"Did I not already tell you I wished for no other? You put your life at risk for myself and my nephews, for a quest that was not your own. For a place you had never been, and for a people you had never met. You have shown more courage and strength than the most hardened warrior and more compassion in you than I could ever have thought. If that does not make you worth of being queen, nothing in the world would."
"I screwed up, though…" I whispered. "I wanted so badly to save you. To save Fili and Kili. And so I sent Dwalin to his death. And our son…"
I closed my eyes tightly, jaw snapping shut. I had not meant to say that part.
"Our… son?" He asked, voice low, questioning. "How could you know…?"
I let out a shaky breath and opened sad eyes to him.
"Lady Galadriel told me in Rivendell that sacrifices would be made." I said, softly. "She has Seen. And that is what I sacrificed. The only son that would have been born to you. The only chance that you ever had for an heir."
Thorin's eyes searched my own, such grief written there that I wondered if this is what would turn him away from me. The knowledge that I had unknowingly killed our child. His only son.
"And for that, too, I am sorry." I whispered "I can't even tell you that, had I known, I would have acted different. I would have gladly died to let you all live. I still would."
His eyes closed then, tightly, and a tear traced down his cheek.
"Do not say such things," He choked out, voice ragged. He opened glistening blue eyes. "I would that you had not had to bear this pain. This heartache."
"You are not angry with me?"
Thorin shook his head fiercely.
"I would ask how you could believe such a thing, but I fear I have too often taken out my anger on you," He sighed. "I am grieved, Talya. For the child we both lost. For the pain that you have gone through. But I can not be angry that you saved my nephews, for they are as sons to me. I have long known Fili to be my heir. And if you think I would have been able to carry on if you fell…"
He shook his head again, more slowly this time.
"After Dwalin breathed his last and Azog lay dead… My first thought was of you. Dain had told me you fought with us in battle. I feared so for your safety, and was so very angry with myself for the way I had spoken to you, the way I had treated you…
"I left Kili, Fili, and Bofur with Nori and Tauriel. Bilbo and I scoured the tower for you once he had spoken of seeing you. The battle was already won by the time Legolas emerged, you in his arms."
He took in a deep breath.
"Your face was so… bruised. Your armor had been cut away and in naught but a tunic and leggings… you looked so very small. Smaller then than you seem now. There was so much blood,"
He trailed off, and closed his eyes tight against the tears that threatened.
"You were so broken. So still. I thought I had lost you." His voice crackled and I reached for him then, my heart aching as this dwarf, as this King, bared his soul to me. He pulled me so gently into his arms, as if he would break me.
"I have lost so much in this life," He uttered, oh so quietly, into my ear. "I could not bear to lose you as well."
We embraced tightly, then, tears mingling as our cheeks brushed. Thorin pulled himself up onto the bed and stretched himself out next to me on his back. He tugged me carefully so that I was stretched out against his side. I curled into him, head in the crook of his shoulder, arm tucked under my chin, resting lightly on his chest, leg bent and resting on his thigh. He slipped an arm around my shoulders, his free hand coming up to brush his fingers through my hair.
When finally the tears stopped, Thorin began to hum low and deep in his chest. The sound was comforting and between his warmth and the familiar smell of him, I could feel myself finally begin to relax. My body still ached and the hurt within me would never truly go away. But together, maybe we could begin to heal the hurts that had come to plague us so.
I wasn't sure how much time had passed before there was a knock on the door. Hesitantly, a female elf entered, eyeing Thorin cautiously. When he did not rebuke her, she came to my side.
'"It is good to see you awake, my lady." She said softly. "I am Merileth, and have been tending you since you first came to Mirkwood."
"Thank you," I said softly. I pulled away reluctantly from Thorin, who slowly slid off the bed and came to a stand next to me. "You have my gratitude."
"And mine," Thorin said suddenly. I looked at him sharply, surprised that he would say such a thing, and to an elf! He did not look my way, however. He was much more interested in what Merileth was doing.
She had begun to gather a bowl and fresh cloths to the table near the bed. She poured water from a pitcher she had brought with her and crushed up fresh herbs into it that she took from the front pocket of her apron.
"Master dwarf," She said hesitantly. "I need to check her injuries. If you would please step outside…."
He watched her impassively as she trailed off.
"I will not leave my betrothed's side." He said simply. She jerked her head up in surprise, the news apparently new to her. She glanced at me questioningly and I nodded my head. In a very un-elvish move, her mouth worked soundlessly, then closed.
"As you will," She finally managed to say. "Your shirt…"
I nodded and began to tug at the linen garment. I winced, the muscles in my ribs pulling, my left shoulder still very sore. Thorin was quick to reach out and gently helped me bring it over my head. Once it was removed, he absently folded it and placed it next to me on the bed.
Merileth, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, began to unbind my ribs. I flinched as she did so, surprised at just how badly it hurt. It took a moment for her to finally tug the last of the bandage free and I was relieved, mostly for her sake, that my breasts were still hidden under a wrap. I glanced down and paled at the sight I saw there.
The entire right side of my ribcage was a mottled black and purple, the flesh tender and raw in spots where my armor had bitten deep. The bruising spread nearly until my belly button and I felt an ache as my eyes strayed slightly lower, where in a matter of weeks, I would have begun to show.
Thorin reached and smoothed a hand down over my back in a comforting gesture. I leaned back against his touch and closed my eyes, letting out a long breath.
Merileth had me lay back until I was nearly flat. She took a cloth, soaked in warm water and herbs, and pressed it to my bruised ribs. I flinched and waited for the sharpness of the pain, but her hands were gentle and the concoction she had mixed brought a surprising amount of relief to the ache there. She brought up another cloth and began to clean the wound on my cheek.
"I doubt it will scar at all," She said softly. "I can not say the same for the wound on your palm."
I frowned and had to think about what she meant. She lifted my left hand and began to unwrap the bandage there. I looked the wound over. From the bottom of my ring finger diagonally down until just below the pad of my thumb was a jagged cut. I vaguely remembered wounding it on a rock when I had jumped down off a pathway to escape orcs.
"You will still have usage of your hand, but I fear you will never retain the same strength or dexterity you did before. The cut was deep and it nearly severed all the muscles there." She dabbed at the wound dutifully.
"I was always better swinging a sword with my right hand anyways," I commented dryly.
"To hear my cousin speak, you would think you could wield a sword with both hands with equal effect," Thorin replied, eye brow raised.
"Where is Dain?" I asked, watching the elleth re-bind my hand and move on to check on a few gashes that I had not even known I had on my legs.
"In Erebor, with the rest of his folk. They have set about clearing the halls and rebuilding so that our people may begin to live there once more." Thorin's eyes did not miss a single move the she-elf made. He frowned, watching her tend to each cut and bruise. I realized he looked guilty. I thwacked him lightly on the chest and he looked at me in surprise.
"Knock it off," I grumbled. "I made the choice to go to battle. You have nothing to feel guilty over."
"If I had not sent you away, I could have protected you."
"Do you really think you could have kept me from fighting once I had set my mind to it?" I asked wryly. He looked like he wanted to argue, his jaw working under his beard, then let out a soft 'humph.'
"I suppose not," He finally admitted.
"That's right. I am a soldier, Thorin. I always will be."
"No simple soldier are you, Talya, to take orders and to come and go at another's command. You, my love, are a warrior." He smiled at me then and I melted.
"Dain has come and gone several times, to check on myself and the rest of our company. He trusts the elves not,"
I gave him a look and he had the grace, at least, to look slightly chagrined, then cleared his throat.
"Apparently, there is much talk of a woman amongst my people. A woman in silver and crimson armor, an elven blade in one hand, the black blade of an orc in another, calling out Du Bekar just as fiercely as any dwarf, and charging head long into battle. Askad-abzag, they name you. Shadowbane."
I felt like Merileth then, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
"Shadowbane?" I asked finally.
"Aye." He said with a small smile playing on his lips. "A bane to orcs and goblins and all those who stick to the darkness and shadows. Many you slew in battle, not least of all the son of Azog."
I frowned and shook my head.
"No, Legolas killed him." I argued, flinching as Merileth tied tight a bandage at my shin.
"Legolas did indeed bury a blade in his head. But you skewered his heart with your sword. He was already dead. He just did not have enough sense to know it."
My mouth opened, then closed again. For the second time that day I was rendered speechless.