Date: TA 3019
Lina: 270 years old
Soft blue light filled the chamber, bathing the stone monuments in a peaceful glow. The stern faces of dwarves from years long past softened in the light. Thror rested in state as his kin wished him to be remembered, his tomb empty of all save his battered skull. Thrain's body finally rested in peace, his remains having been reclaimed from the Necromancer by the White Council. His stone face showed all the scars of the wanderings, his eye missing, a reminder of Azanulbizar.
Three tombs followed. Every line, every fold of stone robes, every tiny nick in the stone Lina had memorized. Her fingers traced slowly over the planes of a face she still saw every night in her dreams. His proud eyes were closed, a soft smile gracing the carved stone lips. Thick hair lay tangled about his head. Though carved in stone, Lina could almost feel the dark strands sliding between her fingers, warm with life.
The stone carvers had presented their best work to Lina, following her explicit instructions as to her husband's final representation in life. His father's ring, something that was never recovered, rested on the middle finger of his right hand. He wore the armor and crown of the Kings of Erebor, but instead of the belt buckle designed for the armor, he wore the one Lina designed. Instead of the shield which failed him in the Battle of the Five Armies, he held the oaken branch defensively in his left hand. The sword with which he had fought at Azanulbizar, which had bested Lina in many bouts, rested on his chest in the place of the Elven sword Thranduil returned to her.
"Lady Firehammer." The voice flowed smoothly about the room, not echoing off the walls as Dwarven voices were wont to do.
Lina turned from her husband's body as it lay in state, being prepared for entombment. The Elven King Thranduil stood just inside the chamber. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a breath to raise himself to his full height. For one approaching a grieving widow, especially as one whose actions facilitated events, he was entirely too proud. Too arrogant.
"What business have you with my husband's corpse?" she asked bitterly. Of late Thorin's hatred of the Elves flowed into his wife. Had Thranduil not turned away the day Smaug attacked, had he offered his aid instead of imprisoning Thorin, had he not laid siege to Erebor, Thorin might yet be alive.
"My business is with you," he replied, his silvery eyes never once flicking to his old adversary's body.
"During your husband's time in my kingdom certain personal items were confiscated in the interest of protecting my people," the Elf continued. His gaze held steadily on a point just above Lina's shoulder.
"I wish to return them to his . . . ," he paused, considering the words available to him. "Partner."
She bristled angrily at Thranduil's tone. Armor and weapons made sense to take while you held your enemies hostage, even though they had done no wrong as the road was to be open to all travelers. However, the Elven King had stripped the dwarves of their personal effects, including Thorin's belt buckle and ring. Now he dared to question the validity of her marriage to Thorin?
"You stole my husband's belongings," Lina spat, her rage and grief combining to rise up. "You stole the protective charm I made for him over one hundred years ago. You are the reason my husband is dead!"
The Elf raised his head higher, his nostrils flaring and eyes widening in self-righteous anger. One hand came to rest on the sword at his side. Even in the Dwarven halls he dared threaten her?
Lina rose slowly, her whole body trembling with barely contained fury. She was unarmed here. Only the bodies of her husband and nephews would stand witness if the Elven King killed her here.
"Strike, coward," she snarled. "I dare you."
"Enough!" Dain's deep voice boomed. The newest King Under the Mountain strode into the room.
"We have had enough bloodshed here. Must we have more?" He fixed his eyes on the Elven King. Thranduil's hand slid from the hilt of his sword. His head jerked sharply at one of his guards. Two large chests, presumably filled with the weapons and armor of the dwarves he'd imprisoned, were cast down as he swept from the room.
Once the Elves were escorted from the Dwarven halls, Dain turned to face Lina. Concern showed on his face.
"I have given you my word, Lady Firehammer. The child you bear will rule before me should it be male, as King with you as Regent until his coming of age. Would you throw away your life over an Elvish slight?"
Struggling to keep her voice from trembling, Lina turned her attention to the other warrior, "Thorin was King, and that creature is the cause of his death. You would let the killer of our King go unpunished?"
"Bolg killed Thorin, not Thranduil," Dain answered gently. He could see how perilously close grief was to destroying his cousin's wife. "But Thranduil will have difficulty gaining access to our ores and gems until he has atoned for his breaking of accords."
He stooped to open one of the chests. Laying on top of the folded armor lay another, far smaller box. Upon opening it, Dain presented the contents to his companion.
Tears filled Lina's eyes and closed off her throat. Her hands shook as she lifted Thorin's belt buckle and ring from within the case. Small scuffs covered the surface of the stones from the numerous battles they had seen. Tenderly she replaced the ornate buckle on Thorin's garments with her own. The buckle was made for him. It would suit no other, and so no other would ever wear it.
Lina twisted the large dark ring about her thumb as she gazed down at her husband's stone face. The ring, by rights, should have been buried with him. Yet it was one last piece of Thorin, and she was not yet ready to let him go.
"They are calling for you, Lady Firehammer," Kitta informed Lina.
The older dwarf turned to face her companion. Kitta's hand rested seemingly unconsciously upon the foot of Fili's statue. Though she wore leather armor, Kitta was no warrior. She could barely fire an arrow with any amount of accuracy. Rather, she was a chronicler and bookkeeper employed in the service of Lina's army.
After Fili's death, Lina felt she owed it to the girl to explain personally what happened. To both Dis and Kitta she wrote letters, ensuring accurate reports reached both females instead of the rumors already growing. Dis was devastated at the loss of her two sons. Her husband disappeared shortly after the news of his sons' deaths, never to be seen again.
Kitta had also disappeared, only to arrive in Rivendell just days after Lina. Gandalf feared damage to the child following Lina's involvement with the battle. At his insistence, the dwarf travelled to Rivendell, to be placed under the watchful eye of Lord Elrond. Kitta and Nes took turns as her companions.
The younger dwarf refused to return to her father's household, citing a decree by Dain allowing females to make a living separate and apart from their male relatives if they chose to do so. As her interests in history and writing grew, Elrond allowed her access to his libraries and scribes. Under his tutelage, she began writing her own histories of the dwarven wanderings and settlement in the Blue Mountains. Dwarves passing through Rivendell, to pay their respects, unofficially, to the wife of Thorin Oakenshield were pleased to share their stories with the youngling. Now Kitta served as a historian to give account of the battles taking place once again at the gates of Erebor.
Lina ran her fingers over her husband's profile one last time. Her gaze lingered briefly on the newest tomb, hastily cut, of Dain Ironfoot. He had fallen in battle defending the King of Dale, his close friend and ally against an army of Easterlings. Command of the armies and the crown of Erebor rested now with Thorin III Stonehelm. It was to his meeting of commanders that Lina now went, to best advise the young king how to utilize her army.
A/N: So, uh, this isn't the epilogue. I actually have at least one more chapter coming before the epilogue. I have the epilogue written, but I have too many loose ends I wanted to wrap up before then.