Date: TA 2941
Thorin: 195 years old
Lina: 192 years old
"You sent for me?" Nes stepped between the stones that formed Lina's roughly outlined command center and personal area. The dwarven commander was sitting on a low stone, glancing back and forth between a map and a pile of scribbled messages. Scouting notes, Nes observed. Her leader was determined to make it through, around, over, or under the black horde only a few hours march away.
Lina set aside her notes and rose. The pain in her abdomen flared as her muscles adjust. She bit back a grimace, determined to ignore the old wound acting up. The persistent cramps and backache only added to her agony.
"I am going into a trance, to try reaching Thorin," she began, grasping at an old knarled tree as a wave of nausea hit her. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I need someone to watch my back and pull me out if things go wrong here in camp."
"The dreams aren't working anymore?" Nes frowned. Her sharp eyes missed nothing, catching the tight grip her commander kept on the remains of the tree and the paleness of Lina's skin. Lina straightened as best she could under the assassin's scrutiny. There was no time for weakness now.
"Someone or something is keeping us from communicating."
Nes's frown deepened and a dark shadow passed over her face. From what Lina had told her of the gift Galadriel has given her, nothing should have severed the connection between Thorin and his wife. The situation the dwarven army found itself in combined with the severance of the dream ties smelled of black magic to Nes. Orcs and goblins had done much as they wished after the dwarven lords returned to their respective lands following the War of Orcs and Dwarves. Yet even the largest hosts numbered far less than the one before them now. If someone or something was truly blocking the tie between Lina and her husband, Nes suspected something far darker was at hand.
"You would try to reach him then?"
Lina nodded in confirmation. After a moment's hesitation, Nes gave her commander a sharp nod. The two women quickly set up a series of trip wires around the area, ensuring that if anyone, by some strange miracle, managed to slip past Nes's gaze, they would not be able to get past her ears.
"Be safe, Lady Firehammer," Nes admonished as Lina settled into her meditation position.
A wry smile tugged at the corners of Lina's mouth as she closed her eyes. If she didn't know any better, she'd almost believe that Nes was worried for her. Little by little, Lina slid into her meditations. Each muscle in her body was consciously tightened, then loosened. Her breathing deepened.
Slowly the sounds of the dwarven encampment faded away. Before long, Lina was alone in the darkness of the unknown realms somewhere between dreams and the waking world. Here she paused, searching for any sign of her husband. All around moved the colored lights she was accustomed to seeing in this place. What they were, she was not sure. Some moved erratically, darting here and there. Other did not. The colors varied. So too did the brightness and speed. Trying to capture them often resulted in them abruptly vanishing from the area, only to reappear elsewhere further along. It was not for any one of these in particular that she searched for. Rather, she looked for where the lights were not.
The darkness for which she had come was blacker than the warm darkness she was used to in this realm. It devoured all lights foolish enough to come within its range. Those lights never reappeared. Cold began seeping into Lina's soul as she pressed her consciousness firmly against the blackness.
To her great surprise, the darkness yielded easily revealing a faint hint of Thorin deeper within. Lina proceeded cautiously. The darkness had never given way before. Yet she was encouraged as the feeling of Thorin grew stronger.
Abruptly, Lina found she could go no further. The dark grew solid against her. Attempting to withdraw only found the darkness had solidified behind her, effectively trapping her spirit within the darkness, swallowed as the lights were.
"You are persistent."
Rich, warm tones flowed through the darkness around her, taking the edge off the cold. Coils of heat slid about her, tightening and loosening like the coils of a great snake.
"I admire persistence," the voice rumbled.
"Who are you?" Lina called, searching the darkness for a face, a figure, a form, anything to give identity to the voice.
"I am power, Lina Firehammer."
The sound of her name startled her, and a frisson ran through her soul. Fear gripped her suddenly, and she hardly dared to move.
At Lina's sudden stillness, the voice chuckled.
"Oh yes, I know you well. You have fought me several time, searching for this husband of yours, Thorin Oakenshield. Such devotion."
Lina felt the warmth of the voice brush against her, yet she could only shiver with revulsion at the touch. This was wrong. No one was supposed to be here. No one should be between her and Thorin. Galadriel had opened the connection between them.
"Why have you hidden my husband from me? Why have you taken him?"
"I did not take him, youngling," the voice purred, "He entered into me. I merely accepted him."
"Entered you how?" Thorin had entered this being? But how? He never reached for Lina's soul before. Only she seemed to have that ability. He merely acted as a receiver for her.
"He is mine, body and soul," the darkness replied as it began to clear. Lina wanted to move toward the image beginning to form, yet she found she was bound firmly in place. The darkness coiled tightly about her, refusing her movement.
Forest was the first thing she saw. Thick branches, heavy with dark mosses and dying leaves, blocked all but tiny slivers of light from the sky above. Webs, enormous spider webs, caught her eye as the beams of light reflected off their silken strands. Spiders larger than the ponies the dwarves rode roamed the tree tops, poking and prodding at small bundles of white silk.
Nausea washed over Lina as her gaze fell upon the bundles. The view shifted to allow her a closer look. Faces peeked out from between the thick strands, barely recognizable as dwarves. From one Lina saw the straw blonde hair of her nephew Fili's mustache and beard, his eyes hidden from view. Another revealed the top of Kili's head. Farther down the tree, lower in its branches, a hand hung limply from the folds of spider silk. Thorin's signet ring clung to one thick finger.
"What have you done to them?"
"Dwarven males, such foolish creatures," the voice laughed, "they ignore the counsel of those far wiser than they, straying from paths set before them as they believe they know best. What have I done to them, you demand? I have done nothing. They forced their way into my domain and have paid the price for their insolence."
The darkness swallowed the image.
"Who are you?" Lina tried again. She shifted uncomfortably as the heat caressed her mind.
"I told you, Lina, I am power."
Lina tried once more to escape the darkness and retreat into her body. Yet the darkness only held her tighter.
"You cannot escape me, young one," it purred. "But you can join me."
The voice must have sensed her alarm.
"Without me, they will die. Your husband and nephews are already as good as dead. Only you can save them."
"How?"
The darkness swirled, revealing a new image.
Dwarven warriors trained in an open training field. Males and females fought together, sparring with short swords, axes, and small warhammers. A line of warriors with pikes drilled to one side of the yard. Kira stood on a balcony overlooking the yard. A cloak marking her as the lord commander of Erebor's military hung from her shoulders. It swirled about her as she turned to enter the mountain.
Confident strides brought the commander before the throne of Erebor. Kira bowed low before the queen sitting on the throne. Lina inclined her head at her old friend, smiling. She gestured for her friend to give her report. As she listened, her guard handed Lina a message. The Queen smiled up at her husband. Thorin squeezed her shoulder gently as he returned to his place, guarding her back. To the queen's left stood her two nephews, dressed like their uncle in the uniform of the palace guard.
As Kira was speaking, a matronly dwarven woman entered the room carrying a young boy. She set the child on the ground. With a cry of "`amad*!" Kira broke off her report as the Queen stepped down from her throne to scoop up the child, holding him tightly. A smile lit up Lina's face as she placed a gentle kiss on the boy's upturned face. The lord commander completed her report as Lina bounced the child up and down on her lap.
As Kira left, a guard arrived, announcing the next audience. Lina's face quickly shifted. A whisper in the child's ear sent him running back to his nurse. The woman led the young boy out of the throne room, leaving the queen to deal with the next audience. A pair of guards led a chained Elf into the throne between them. A sharp blow to the back of the Elf's legs sent him to his knees before the throne. The guards pulled the Elf's head back. Thranduil glared at his captor. With a gesture, Lina sent her enemy to labor in the mines beneath the mountain. From the entrance of the hall came a long line of enslaved Elves. As each was brought before the queen, she sentenced them to serving the dwarves of the Mountain.
Leaders of the other dwarven clans paid their queen homage one the Elves were sentenced. Treasures were presented at the foot of Queen Lina's throne. No clan dared stay away from her halls. Each sent their representatives to her. Her nods of approval sent the envoys back to their masters with promises of support in their struggles against the other races of Middle Earth. The dwarves slowly rose to become the only power in the realm. All fell before them.
As the audiences ended, Thorin gently reached over the back of the throne. Lina smiled as she rose to greet her husband. His arms wrapped tightly about her. "My queen," he whispered, "My wife." His hand rested gently on her belly. For the first time, a soft swell was visible beneath her royal robes.
The darkness closed over, leaving Lina alone in the black. She could barely speak as she blinked back tears. A son. She had a son. Thorin lived and she ruled in Erebor.
"What is this? A view of the future?"
"Not yet," purred the voice, "But it could be. All you have to do is let me inside you."
It could be. She could be a mother. She could rule Erebor. Her husband would be at her side, her nephews as well. All the peoples of Middle Earth would bow before her. None would ever shun her again. She would rule.
The darkness began to seep inside her. She could feel the warmth penetrating her mind, driving away the doubts and the cold. She would be Queen Under the Mountain.
But how? Thorin was the rightful King. While he lived, she could never rule. Thorin had to die.
"Get out!" Lina snarled, trying to force the darkness away. It coiled tighter about her. Grasping at her soul, trying to bind her to its' will. She fought violently, trying to shove it away.
"You are mine."
Lina felt herself beginning to fade. The darkness pushed her further back, forcing her to vacate her own mind. Stabs of panic, fear for her husband and nephews, were all that kept the darkness at bay. If she fell, they would be doomed. If what the darkness showed her was true, she was already too late. But she had to try.
As her strength faded, she felt Thorin's presence in the darkness. He was reaching for her desperately, dragging her away from the darkness. "Let her go." The voice echoed in the darkness, driving it all back. The cold darkness faded. The colors returned and the warm, comforting darkness wrapped around her.
The last thing Lina saw was a dungeon, and Thorin collapsed against one wall.
A/N: I apologize for the long period between updates. I'm hopeful I can get back in the habit of writing. I would like to get this story finished before the final film drops.
Translation:
*mother