I do not own any of the characters or The Hobbit (just the AU storyline and my OC) Those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fan fics would not be in existence.
Please review! I love getting them- they keep me encouraged! J And much apologies of late- I will delete the author's note after posting this chapter so you still get notified of this one :D I will do my best to update again in a couple days, possibly Sunday afternoon- we'll see how things go, and no guarantees, but I'll try :D
The moon shone through the gaps in the stone walls, its white light casting strange shadows amidst their unusual host's home.
Thorin sat beside his nephew, who had cried himself to sleep and was now curled under a thickly woven wool blanket. Calmly he stroked the blond hair in a soothing manner, pondering the events of earlier that evening.
Bilbo said that he needed me, the dwarf king thought to himself. But how can I help someone who has all but disowned me?
He suddenly recalled delivering the news of the death of his grandfather and brother after the battle of Azanulbizar, and the uncertainty about his father's fate, to Dis. His normally strong and stoic younger sister had waited behind in camp with the other women and children as they had marched off to battle that day, as was customary.
Dis smiled as she bade her grandfather, father and brothers farewell and good luck in front of their people, though her eyes told a different story.
Thorin was very proud of his younger brother beside him in full armor, finally going to fight like he had greatly wished to and bursting with enthusiasm. But Dis had thought it foolhardy to allow such a young dwarf to fight in battle, and had said so in private to Thorin the evening prior. However, their grandfather's word had remained firm, and all young males who were able to joined the army to fight against the orcs that had overrun their ancient halls of Khazad-dum, some having never held a sword or axe before in their lives.
Now, as they bid farewell, he could see the truth behind her forced smile. The subtle lines around her eyes, the tightness of her jaw- hidden from all but those closest to her. She feared for them, and for the fate of their people should they not return.
The line of Durin did not pass to womenfolk should their men die before their time. She had yet to marry, still being quite young for a dwarrowdam to do so. And even then, the line would only continue on through her if she bore sons and her brothers did not have any children of their own.
There was quite the line of succession to the throne, it having been secure for three generations now. Thrain would follow Thror should he fall, then Thorin, then it would extend to his cousin Nain, his son Dain, then fall to Balin and Dwalin, and so forth.
The problem, she had clearly said to Thorin the night before, was that all the men near enough to the throne to inherit it were going to be fighting in the battle, thanks to his pleas on his brother's behalf, rather than some staying behind in camp where it was safe.
"I hope you can live with yourself, Thorin, should the line of Durin be wiped out and your people be leaderless because of your foolishness!" She had raged, before storming out of her brothers' tent.
Her words nearly came true, in a frightening turn of events. His grandfather was beheaded, his father went missing and never returned, his younger brother and his cousin Nain- all killed. He had only survived because of the strange yet divine placement of an oaken branch, and his cousin Dain had, at the age of thirty two, been the only dwarf younger than him to survive the battle at all. Balin and Dwalin had numbered among the few survivors, but Dwalin permanently lost part of an ear, and Balin would forever bear the unseen scars of battle deep within.
The heart wrenching wails of the womenfolk as they began to see that their men and lads had not numbered among the few that returned was more deafening to Thorin than the actual battle had been, and was forever seared in his memory. Women and children, crying for husbands and fathers and brothers who would forever be known thereafter as burnt dwarves- they couldn't even bury them properly; there were so many lives lost.
His sister's reaction troubled his memory the most- for she had not immediately wailed as the rest of the women and children had done. Her face instead had gone ashen as Dwalin bore the heavy news, Thorin too consumed with grief to do so. No words came from her lips, and her back was straight as stone, and just as unmoving.
The next thing he had known, he was holding his bleeding cheek and sprawled out on the ground. Her royal ring, the mark of a princess of Durin, had broken the skin as she hit him with all the strength she possessed.
Looking up at her, he saw grief mingled with unbridled fury, and could only look up at her with tear filled eyes as she screamed at him.
"My brother is dead! My grandfather is dead, and my father missing?!" she cried, her voice growing hoarse quickly. "He can fight, you said. Did you say he could die too?!"
She went to swing at him again, but Dwalin and Balin caught her before her fist could find its mark. It took both of them to hold her back as Thorin staggered to his feet, until she collapsed sobbing in their arms.
She had been escorted back to her tent, and tended to by the women healers. Later that evening, Thorin ventured in, only to find her asleep from a calming drought, her tear stains still visible on her face.
He whispered many an apology to her that night, even as he stroked her hair as well. He remembered crying, the tears falling on her blanket as his whole body shook with sobs long into the night, and waking to her stroking his hair some hours later.
I forgive you brother, she had whispered then, before nestling up to his chest and sobbing anew as they clung to each other in their grief. It's just us now, isn't it?
As he looked down upon his slumbering nephew, her words rang in his mind as clearly as if they'd just been spoken next to him, rather than ninety eight years prior.
"It's just us now, isn't it, Filan?"he whispered as fresh tears slid down his cheeks. "Just….just us."
XXX
A rooster crowed in the graying sky, startling the young woman awake. The last thing she remembered was the way the moonlight cast strange shadows on the dark walls of the cabin as she bathed Kili's face, lost in her memories.
I must have fallen asleep, she thought to herself, her mind still hazy as she raised her head off the straw tick on the floor. Pushing herself upright, a sudden clatter sounded, and she felt very cold water seep through the quilt around her and her nightgown. A gasp left her mouth as she shifted suddenly, looking down at the sodden spot on the side of her clothing.
"Great," she grumbled, sighing as she wrung out her nightgown. A cough sounded in front of her, and her eyes darted up, gaze landing on the young prince as the blue orbs widened.
Kili's face was covered in a sheen of sweat as he gasped, coughs intermingling with raspy breathing. His cheeks remained flush against his ashen face, and his lips were tinged blue as he fought for breath.
A door creaked behind her, and Cirashala turned with wide eyes toward Meril, the old woman's gaze on the young dwarf as well.
"H-he can't breathe," she cried, turning back toward Kili as she fought to sit him up. The old woman immediately moved into action, rushing back into her room and emerging a moment later with two pillows.
Maneuvering around to the other side of the straw tick, Meril moved to help Cirashala sit him up, stuffing the pillows behind him to aid in the task. Once he was up, the young woman turned toward the elder, before her eyes landed on the fireplace in front of her.
The dying coals of the fire still had some life to them as smoke wafted up into the chimney, and her eyes widened as the image reminded her of steam.
Steam….
She enjoyed historical fiction immensely, and remembered a beloved book she'd read multiple times. In the story, a baby had suddenly and unexpectedly developed croup, and steam was used to help open the child's airways.
Come to think of it, the menthol in vapor rub helps too.
"Steam," she said quietly, before looking up at Meril. Why couldn't I have remembered this sooner?
"Do you have any mint?" she asked quickly, and the old woman shook her head.
"There's some among the trees at the end of the cornfield," she began, confusion on her face. "But the leaves are still small and not suitable for tea. Why—" Cirashala cut her off.
"Boil some water, and put the steam under his face!" she cried, rising quickly to her feet. The world spun for a moment, but as soon as it stopped she turned and ran toward the door, passing a very sleepy eyed and bewildered Frieda.
"What's happenin'?" she asked, yawning, but Cirashala did not answer the child as she veered around her, her mind set on only one thing.
I need to find that mint!
XXX
The young woman stumbled across the corn field, very quickly realizing that her nightgown was far too long for her. Picking the hem up, she hurriedly tied it in a knot, before taking off at a full run.
The fog was thick in the graying dawn, and she could barely see three feet ahead of herself. Her side pinched as she sucked in a breath, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Her aching back was forgotten in her determination to find the mint as quickly as possible, before….no, she would not dwell on that. She had already lost far too many people in her life, with her grandfather's death when she was only thirteen, and that of her husband and children recently. She was not about to lose her friend too.
Tall, dark shapes began to be discernible ahead of her through the fog, and she picked up her pace as she recognized the blurred shapes of trees. Within seconds, she found herself at the edge of the forest, very quiet in the early dawn.
She began to look at the ground as she hunted for the mint, knowing it to be more ground cover than shrub. Pine needles poked and scratched at the soles of her feet, and she winced as she stepped on stray rocks and twigs, regretting that she'd forgotten her boots in her hurry to leave the cabin.
Meril said it was here- where is it?
A loud crunch sounded as her bare foot fell on a dry pinecone, and the young woman let out a muffled cry as she jumped and stumbled sideways over a fallen branch and landing in some foot tall leaves. Rolling over on her side as she groaned, a distinct, pleasant smell reached her nose.
Opening her eyes, her sight fell on small, dark green leaves growing on the ground all around her. The blue orbs widening, she reached over and plucked one up, before holding it under her nose. A decidedly peppermint aroma wafted up from the tiny leaf, and she quickly grabbed a large handful and rose to her feet.
Cirashala turned toward the cornfield once more, the sting of pinecone all but forgotten as she frantically raced back toward the cabin, hoping against hope that she wouldn't be too late.
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A response to guest reviewer theLord'ssparrow: Thank you! Did you read this all since I posted my poll on TORn, or have you been reading the whole time (I'm curious- and if you read since the poll I'm impressed- I read really fast, but still ;)? Either way, thank you for your compliments :) After the initial Tauriel outrage, I wasn't sure how well Cira would be received on TORn…but I will put down your response as another yes (If I can get about five or ten yes's, then I will post it :)
A response to guest reviewer redhouseclan: Thanks! I'm always glad to hear I'm emoting well! Hopefully it will be soon, I promise (as long as real life lets me update once in a while… ;(
A response to guest reviewer Kaia: I certainly plan to write when the crazy life allows :) As to your questions- the first one no, Meril has no need to know that and it was pretty private so I doubt Cira would bring it up. As to the second one- within four chapters hopefully! So story wise, very very soon, but update wise? That depends on when I can write- I have a LOT of work to catch up on since we lost an entire month due to illness- I just finished planting the last fruit tree this year and the rest of my garden today (2/3 got planted before illness struck, as the last part still needed big rocks taken out, but the last 1/3 finally got done today). I'm pushing the frost with the pumpkins (they take just under four months to grow), but the rest should hopefully be fine as they're short lived crops. And I still have 93 blocks to do on the 100 block wedding quilt, and it's in five months! And I have to service my good machine because I accidentally ran over my finger and threw the timing off, and my old machine cannot handle the delicate work. Yikes- each block has 32 triangles so that's a total of 3200 triangles when it's finally finished (not counting the over 100 tiny squares for the border, plus actually quilting it- stitching the top to the bottom with batting in between- and that I have to do by hand a block at a time around the middle). That does not count canning, preserving, drying, cutting down unwanted shrubs, hauling said shrubs to the dump, other sewing (I ripped two older dresses last month by accident and only have four summer ones total, and still have several to go plus undergarments for them and for my kids too). TONS of work, which doesn't leave much for writing. But I'm determined to continue, so I will write when I can :)
A response to guest reviewer VeArkenstone: I'm glad you like it! I was nervous about posting it on torn, but it seems to have been ok so far :) I like descriptive stories as well- the stories I love the most are the ones where I can visualize the setting and scene as it happens in the books (hey, why do I love Tolkien? ;) And you are correct- the prologue will make a LOT more sense as the story progresses ;) Thanks a ton for your review!
A response to guest reviewer Guest: I am so sorry it's taken a while to update. I've been so busy canning and sewing! Cherries came due, as did berries for jam making, and have kept me so, so busy (tomatoes and squash and cucumbers are also coming due here quickly). I update when I can manage to squeak in time, and hopefully it will be soon. But please don't expect tons of updates in summer, and especially come September/October, as canning for all the fall things will cause me to be kitchen bound for at least a couple weeks, likely more.
Thanks to all who review, favorite, and follow- your encouragement keeps me going! :D :D :D