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.)
As hung-over as I was the next morning, I found that I had enjoyed how relaxed I had been the night before. Gone had been the ache in in my chest over the miscarriage. Gone had been my misgivings about meeting the rest of Thorin's kin. Gone had been my guilt over Dwalins' death.
With Thorin's attention once more shifted to the business at hand and with the time of our departure nearing all too soon, I found myself drinking a little more than I should at each meal. It was to the point that I had a near steady buzz throughout the day. I found it so much easier to deal with the new dwarves that way, with their puzzling stares and near-accusing looks. Despite the apparent delight they had shown when Thorin and I had sparred and the name they had given me out of sheer respect for my accomplishments in battle, it was very obvious that they still were not entirely sold on the idea of Thorin taking me as his wife.
The drunken spar with Thorin proved, too, that I wasn't quite as healed as I had thought. I found myself very sore over the next few days and the alcohol helped numb that pain, too. When I had mistakenly told Thorin how pained my ribs were, he had frowned and become quite delicate when handling me, which frustrated me to no end. When I did see him, mostly at nights, he treated me like a porcelain doll, his once ardent kisses and touches cooled to an almost icy level. This too, bothered me, and instead of telling him, I avoided him further, convincing myself that he did not need anything else to worry about.
The day before we were to leave, I found myself leaning against a pillar in the room allotted to the dwarves. I was sitting on the floor, knees bent and boots planted firmly, one arm resting on a leg, the other clutching a bottle of whiskey that I had nicked from Nori when he wasn't looking.
There was a light sound of boots on the stone and I turned to find Legolas behind me, having no doubt purposefully made noise as to not startle me. I raised an eye brow, wondering what had brought him there. I pushed off of the floor and turned to face him. He was dressed in travelling clothes, bow and quiver over one shoulder, sword at his side and his dual knives strapped to his back.
"Prince Legolas," I said, bowing my head. He arched a fine eye brow.
"Queen Talya," I wrinkled my nose in distaste at his words and he gave a dry laugh.
"It seems you have as much taste for titles as I do," He said softly.
"Then I apologize for so naming you," I replied, leaning against the pillar with arms crossed.
"I am leaving Mirkwood," He said finally. "There has been too much strife betwixt my father and I, too many points in which we disagree. I find that I have a desire to travel and find for myself what sort of world lay beyond our borders. I found myself unable to go without first bidding you farewell."
"Where will you go?" I asked, curious to see if he would mention the ranger. Legolas let out a soft breath.
"In truth, I know not. For now, it is enough that I leave my father's halls." I frowned at his answer and chewed my lip a moment.
"Do you have a good memory?" I asked finally. He narrowed his eyes and nodded.
"I remember the name of a dog that roamed our halls three hundred years ago." He said flatly. I blinked.
"Ah. Good enough, then. If you ever hear of a ranger named Strider, Thorongil, or Estel… He is of the Dunedain. Go to meet him. Get to know him, and the rangers he rides with. You will not be disappointed."
Legolas leveled a look at me, considering my words carefully.
"I will do as you bid, Talya. Following your council oft seems to be the wiser course." He extended a hand to me and I rolled my eyes.
"You saved my life, Legolas. I think that earns you more than just a hand shake." I embraced him enthusiastically, much to his surprise. He seemed startled and it took him a moment to relax enough to hug me back.
"You saved my life, first. I was merely returning the favor." He said kindly. He stepped back and we regarded each other carefully.
"I hope that I find the Dunedain to be as stalwart and staunch as you."
"And I hope that they are able to teach you what the long years in your fathers' realm has not." I said, smiling lightly.
"And what would that be?" He enquired.
"How to laugh." I shook my head. "Your kind is supposed to be merry, despite what your father seems to think. Learn how to smile and how to laugh. Learn to enjoy life, rather than drift through it."
He inclined his head to me slightly, then glanced down at the bottle in my hand.
"Will you heed your own council?" He asked quietly. "Will you leave behind your guilt and your heartaches? Will you learn to enjoy life once more?"
I frowned and shifted.
"I'm not so good at taking my own advice," I admitted. Legolas watched me for a long moment.
"I hope you find peace, mellon nin." He finally said. He smiled then, the first true one I had seen, and I could not help but smile in return.
"I will miss you, Talya. Despite the fact that we have not long known each other, your easy manner lightens my heart and reminds me that all in the world is not lost. For that, I do thank you."
"Aw, you elves speak so pretty," I said, "I think I'll miss that when I go back to Erebor."
"And I believe I will miss the way in which you so easily challenge my father." Legolas said with a short laugh. "No one has ever dared to speak to him in such a way."
"I think everyone needs a swift kick in the ass now and again." I replied with a shrug. The elf-prince nodded his head in apparent agreement, then let out a long breath.
"Farewell, Talya Shadowbane." He bowed his head to me then, touching two fingers lightly to his brow. I returned the gesture and watched as he turned and walked away. I felt a small ache, then, to know that I would likely never see him again. Never see the changes wrought in him by his friendship with Aragorn. Never get to witness the bond he would form with Gimli.
I brought the bottle of whiskey to my lips and noticed that several of the dwarves nearby were staring at me reproachfully, no doubt disgusted by my easy friendship with the son of Thranduil. I downed a mouthful of the whiskey and, deciding I had quite enough with their attitudes, turned and started to walk away.
"Warrior or not, the women-folk of Man are all alike," A dwarf muttered as I passed. "Eager to fall into bed with whoever it is that can offer them most."
"I wonder if our King knows how fickle her attentions are."
I felt myself flush as I walked away, the words stinging more than I cared to admit. I took another swig out of the bottle and pushed through the door ways, letting the solid wood slam shut behind me.
I was in a dark mood by the time I reached my rooms. Legolas's kind words did little to lessen the irritation I felt over the dwarves' treatment of me and the overall depression that engulfed me. I wondered how it was that I felt worse now that the quest was done and my purpose had been fulfilled than before, when I was still uncertain whether or not I would succeed in saving the sons of Durin.
I dropped the now empty bottle on the floor as I leaned against my now closed door. I thumped my head back against it and stared up at the ceiling. I reached up and ran my fingers over Thorin's ring at my throat, wondering if it was really best that I stay with him to become his wife. There was already opposition against the idea, and that was just here, in Mirkwood, with a handful of his people. I couldn't imagine what it would be like once we were back in Erebor, surrounded by dwarves.
Then there was the fact that I would never give him a son. Never give him an heir to his throne. I had realized by then that Galadriel had never said I would never bear him a daughter, but that would mean little to his people. It was a line of kings, not of queens. Thorin may have said that he had already accepted Fili as his heir but I questioned how he really felt. He too often buried his true feelings deep and with as withdrawn from me as he had been, I could not help but wonder if he really did resent me for losing our child.
I turned and punched the door in frustration, immediately coming to regret the motion. I cursed loudly and rubbed my sore knuckles. I shoved off from the door and, kicking the empty bottle as I passed, went and plopped down on the bed. Thorin had not even been sharing the bed with me most nights and that ate at me, too. I couldn't help but think that now he was with his own kind, he was beginning to regret his affections towards me. That thought did not sit well with me.
I sat there for a long while, staring out the nearby window at the nearly bare trees. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but before long, the door opened and Thorin walked in. He was perhaps the last person that I really wanted to see at the moment and I barely regarded him as he came to my side.
"The dinner bells have already rung, Talya." He said, frowning. "We have been looking for you."
I glanced at him briefly and shrugged.
"I didn't hear," I answered shortly. Thorin seemed to be taken aback by my tone of voice, but he did not comment.
"Come, then. We leave on the morrow and it is best if we eat a hearty meal now." He stepped back enough for me to slide off the bed. The motion was much less graceful than it should have been considering the amount of booze I had consumed that after noon, and I let out a pained gasp as I over-stretched my muscles. Thorin immediately gripped my arm and steadied me, but I jerked out of his grasp.
"I'm fine," I growled. "I'm not a damn doll."
I felt light headed and realized that I had not eaten at all that day. That coupled with the whiskey, and I felt as though I may vomit. I grit my teeth together.
"You know what? Go on ahead. Im not hungry." I bit out.
"Talya…." Thorin started, reaching out to touch my shoulder, but I pulled away again.
"No, Thorin. Go on. No doubt your people will be able to stomach their dinner better if I weren't around." I felt a painful lurch in my chest and I knew that I was about to cry and hated myself a little for it. I walked to the window, making sure not to face him, and ducked my head down. I reached up wrapped my fingers around the ring at my neck, savoring the feeling for seconds before I jerked, hard. The fabric, already frayed from its journey through the battle, snapped easily and came away in my fist. Swallowing hard, I turned to face Thorin. He was closer than I expected, his face drawn into a mask of confusion.
"Here," I said, holding my fist to him. He glanced down and slowly held his palm out. When I dropped his ring into his waiting hand, he jerked his head up to look at me, wounded.
"Why…" There was more pain in his voice than I had anticipated and I closed my eyes and quickly turned away as I felt tears well up.
"I don't belong with you," I whispered. "It was lovely while it lasted, and it meant more to me than I can ever tell you. But it was a joke to think that I could have ever been anything more to you than a fond memory as you age alongside your true queen."
"Why are you saying this?" Thorin demanded, voice suddenly angry.
"Because it's true, dammit. Your people will never accept me as your queen. I am not a dwarf. I am not even supposed to be here. I can't make the right choices. I couldn't even keep you all safe. My stupidity killed Dwalin and… and… our…," My voice broke then and I shut my eyes tightly against the torrent of tears. "You deserve a strong wife. A strong dwarven woman. One that can give you sons and you can proudly call yours."
"Had you forgotten that the son you carried was to be the only one ever born to me?" He snapped then, painfully, his voice a sharp whip. "I could lay with a thousand woman and none would ever bear me an heir."
I had nothing to say to that, the accusation in his voice more than I could bear.
"Talya," His voice was softer. "For the love of Mahal, look at me!"
He was behind me suddenly, his strong hand wrapping tightly around my upper arm. I fought against him, but he did not let go. He jerked me to him, wrapping strong arms around me.
"It does not matter to me." He whispered, tucking my head under his chin. "Even if another could bear me a son, I would not turn away from you. A hundred years I have lived, and never before have I ever loved another as I love you. A hundred further, and I could never find one who I would love more."
I sobbed raggedly into his chest and I felt his own shoulders shake as he held me.
"You are so strong. So brave. And so very selfless. I have never met another who would have risked what you have to save those they had never met. Because of you, my nephews will live on. They will be able to walk the halls of Erebor because of you. And even if I had fallen, I would have gone to my death with a peace in me I have not known since Smaug tore from me my family and my home. Because of you." Thorin reached up and gripped my face gently in his strong hands, thumbs brushing away the wetness from my cheeks. I looked at him then, surprised to see that his own eyes glistened fiercely, tears gathering thickly in his lashes and trailing down his face to stick wetly in his beard.
"Everything I have ever wanted is now within my grasp. Erebor has been reclaimed. The Arkenstone rests once more above the throne. And I am king of a homeless people no more." He gripped my chin firmly then and looked at me, brows furrowed. "And it means nothing to me if you are not by my side. I beg of you. Do not turn from me."
I buried my head in his chest then, shoulders shaking, breaths coming in ragged and painful gasps. Thorin wrapped his arms around me once more, his cheek resting on my head.
"Amrâlimê," He whispered. "Amrâlimê. My love."