It was a cold, overcast day when they finally set out. So much for sunlight over an open road, thought Evie, but there was little she could do to control the weather, save have an even brighter disposition. That was proving even more difficult than begging the clouds to disperse, however, as both Thorin and Dwalin were of a mood and poor Telchar was already becoming the victim of their foul tempers.
"Let's go – it is already past 10. We were supposed to set off at sunrise."
Thorin complained, hoisting himself up onto his pony. The creature looked just as disgruntled as its rider, tossing its great chestnut head as Thorin adjusted himself on its back. Evie rolled her eyes, climbing atop her own mount and taking a deep breath. They were certainly off to an interesting start.
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That night the fire was far warmer than the company, and it seemed a foregone conclusion that there would be no merry storytelling or singing around the small camp. They heated a stew over the robust flames, tossing in varied vegetables and a few scraps of meat. It tasted better than Evie had expected, and she credited Dwalin for his mastery of spices – the dwarf had brought along a few choice mixes to flavor such broths. The hobbit would not have thought him an accomplished campfire chef, but she supposed that after traveling so much it would be a good skill to have. It was only after some nudging she discovered he had gotten the spices from the market and had spent some time with a hobbit who had taught him how to mix them together. His favorite tastes were more dwarven in nature, but some of the Shire spices complimented those of the dwarves and made for a better tasting broth. He was loathe to admit it, at first, but the dwarf was helpless under Evie's persistence.
There was not much more conversation, although the group was glad, at least, it did not rain. The dark sky threatened them, but the clouds spared the company a wet evening. Evie took the first watch.
It was a cold night, the wind sweeping icily across the feet of the mountain despite the small hills clustered around the base of the great stone goliath. There were only a few trees at their chosen campsite, so the chill found them easily. Evie wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and stoked the fire, sitting down at the edge of the site and looking over the sleeping assembly of dwarves. She was not the only sentinel this evening – the moon hung high in the dark sky, gleaming down with a white glow so bright it almost hurt to look at it directly. Evie squinted up at the quiet little circle all the same, entranced by the gentle call of its brilliance. She wondered, absentmindedly, if the moon ever got lonely. She didn't think that was possible, but all the same, she was not the kind of person to rule out anything she couldn't prove. The moon was always surrounded by stars, tiny twinkling lights which mirrored its sturdy glow, but still they were not the same. No matter how welcome it might feel sharing the night sky with all those gleaming stars, the truth of it was, the moon was alone. Unique, radiant, magnificent, even, but alone. It made Evie sad to think about it.
The queen had hardly felt the time pass, but allowed Telchar to replace her when he woke to take his turn at the watch. Thorin was already in a deep sleep when she went to spread out her bedroll, so she placed herself at his side. The hobbit shivered as she curled up beneath her blanket, her large grey eyes staring at her husband's face, which was bathed in the dull orange glow of the fire. He slept peacefully, and looked far more at ease than he ever did when awake. It had always been that way, she supposed, but she did not know why. If only he could enjoy his life and the great gift of it… As he had aged, the dwarven king had only gotten more and more temperamental. Evie hoped she could prevent him from wasting the time they had left together, but she did not know how to begin such a perilous intervention.
And so, instead, she slowly drifted to sleep, the few inches between her bedroll and her husband's feeling like miles.
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Evie yawned when she woke, stretching out in her bedroll and bidding the stiffness from her limbs and back. In spite of the pain, it was a good stiffness, for it would serve as a reminder that she had not slept the past night in her own warm, comfortable bed, but rather on the hard, earthen ground. The sensation was not new to her, although it had become quite stale, resting deep in her memory for so long, unrepeated. She was not so totally estranged from her Shire roots as to not be grateful for a fine bed and the comforts of home; yet to truly appreciate home, one had to leave it.
She went on with her morning, feeding the ponies and preparing to set off again (and maybe stealing a yawn or two into the crook of her elbow when she knew Thorin wasn't looking).
The company rode mostly in silence that day. Evie admired the scenery as much as she could – the rolling plains stretching out endlessly to the left and the towering mountains looming over them to the right. Part of her wanted to run, to urge her pony faster and faster until they shot across the open space and left the dwarves behind. She wanted to go so fast she felt like she was flying; to escape. To run and run until she was lost and no one could find her. There was a never a time she was unaccounted for, when no one knew where she was. The thought of being lost was as exhilarating as it was terrifying – she didn't want to be alone, not truly, but she did want to feel, just for once, irresponsible. As if her choices were her own and she didn't belong to anyone.
But she did. She belonged to her people, to Thorin… She had obligations and pressures and promises to fulfill. They weighed down on her, sometimes so heavily it made her want to scream. She had made her choice to accept them so long ago, when she was young and felt like the world was at her feet. Thirty years ago Thorin had been the only thing that mattered to her – his love burned inside her more fiercely than any other sensation she had ever known. It conquered fear and worry and hesitation… They had been married, she had become a queen, and ever since that day her life had never been the same. If a 63 year old Evie could have had a glimpse of herself at 94, the hobbit would not have recognized her future self. She was not sure she was unhappy with who she had become, for she was certainly wiser, more confident and elegant than she had been before that crucial ceremony so long ago. She had been an adventurer – a healer who helped others and explored Middle Earth, stoking her own curiosity with every new introduction. Now, she was a queen – a ruler who assisted her people from the vast halls of her mountain fortress, suppressing her own desires in favor of what was best for her people and her husband. She had a garden and a wonderful sister and a fearless little nephew, but most of the faces she saw were familiar to her. She had not felt awe in decades, and the only surprises that visited her were administrative.
Evangeline Took wanted to do something irrational – to be shocking and improper and liberated. Even as the desire struck her, the queen knew, though she wanted to, she would not. She could not. Freedom had fallen from her nature. Still, perhaps she could lighten up a little and remember her roots. Recall the hobbit she used to be, who sang when others were quiet and never backed down from a challenge. The healer smiled, looking around at the glum faces of her companions. She scanned their somber expressions and picked the most likely…
"Telchar, wake up! We're going to race."
"Wha – my lady?"
The dwarf questioned her, his auburn eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.
"You heard me; we're racing."
She announced, savoring the dumbfounded look on Thorin's face and the slow smile spreading across Dwalin's. She spurred her pony, leaning forward and laughing as it bolted.
"And you're already losing!"
The queen shouted into the wind, her hair whipping behind her as the pony sprinted down the path. She closed her eyes, taking a quick, winded breath and letting all the heaviness of her life fall behind her as she hurtled forward.
The hobbit chanced a glance back and saw Telchar gaining on her. She grinned, urging her pony on. They rounded a bend, Evie's smaller pony putting up a good front against Telchar's larger one as they careened to the right. Suddenly, everything was purple – they had come upon a field of lavenders growing against the edge of the mountain in a patch of sunlight. Evie leaned back and slowed her pony to a stop. She dismounted, twisting the animal's reins around the branch of a tree and running as fast as she could toward the sea of purple.
Evie was breathless when she reached them and didn't think twice before flopping down into the bed of flowers, her arms and legs splayed around her, blossoms sprouting between each limb. The purple petals tickled her cheeks and sifted through her tousled hair. She had a beautiful garden at Ered Luin which housed lavender, but these flowers were so much more precious… They were wildflowers, and had grown here of their own bidding, unrestrained. The hobbit looked up at the sky, savoring the infinite, silvery blue above her. Even though it was overcast, as it had been the day before, there was something limitless in the hazy grey clouds. From here, the sky was all she could see; it was the entire world. There were no boundaries, no restrictions. This, this very sensation, was all she needed. A reminder that whatever limitations she felt were her own. She had chosen to marry Thorin, she had chosen to become a queen and adopt the burdens of her people. She had welcomed the strain, eager to relieve the weight on the backs of others. And she was not alone; every single person in all Middle Earth meant something to someone. Even the sky had obligations – it raised the clouds and encouraged the rain. It brought the sunlight down to the earth so that it might survive. It blessed them with cool breezes and warmed them with light. The sky gave Middle Earth life, and yet it was still free. And it needed the clouds and the sun and the moon and the stars to give it purpose – otherwise it would be truly lonely. Empty.
Evangeline Took was nothing without the dwarves of Ered Luin, without her husband and her sister and her friends. She needed them just as surely as they needed her, and whatever sense of duty that created was an honor, not an encumbrance.
The queen smiled, breathing in the sweet smell of the surrounding flowers and thanking Mahal for her sudden clarity. She had needed this, and now she knew why. It was not adventure she had wanted, not truly, but simply a step away from everything she knew so that she could remember just why she loved it so much. It was like her letter had said, before the words had perished in the flames of her doubts: Sometimes something becomes so the same, so absolutely familiar, that we forget to treasure it as we should. She had merely needed to remember what it felt like to lay in a bed of lavender and look up at the sky; to miss Ered Luin and all of the wonderful dwarves who inhabited it.
After a few more minutes of blissful solitude, of deep breaths and thoughtless contentment, Evie leaned up and looked over at the rest of her small company. The dwarves were standing in a small cluster, all staring at her with varying expressions. Dwalin was a little amused, Thorin sullen, as always, and Telchar confused but inquisitive. Evie had a feeling the dwarf had not enjoyed himself in a long time… None of them had.
"Come sit in the flowers with me!"
She called out, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice. The hobbit was unsurprised that none of them moved immediately to join her. Telchar and Dwalin both looked to Thorin, who simply stared at her, stone-faced.
"If you insist on loafing about, we may as well have lunch here."
Thorin decided, turning away and pulling his pipe out of his saddlebag. "Telchar, find the supplies."
Evie rolled her eyes, falling back into the flowerbed and ignoring her husband's sour obstinacy. He went through these moods so often now, she could barely keep up with him – one day he would kiss her and be kind to her, the next he was so cold he was almost cruel. This trip had been his suggestion; why he was not more cheerful (if he was even capable of such a sentiment anymore), she could not know. For the moment, however, her king's glumness mattered little. She was in a cloud of violet blossoms, with the sky above her and a freedom filling her soul she had not felt in a long time.
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"My lady, if you would like there is some food for you over near the ponies."
Dwalin's deep voice was a rough invasion of her quiet little world, which had encompassed only the gentle rustling of the lavender stalks as they rubbed together in the passing wind and the occasional refrain of birdsong as a sparrow flew by. The queen sighed, squinting up at the shadow towering above her and blocking out the sun.
"You mean to say that the king is getting restless and would like to move on shortly."
The dwarf smiled out of the corner of his mouth, and Evie's full lips turned up at the edges in response.
"Mmm… You don't have to say anything incriminating; I know."
She confirmed, extending her arm in a silent request for the dwarf to help her rise. His enormous hand engulfed her small one and he tugged her up. Evie grumbled as she stood, stretching once she was on two feet again. Her toes wiggled in the greenery at the base of the lavender stalks, enjoying the rare sensation. Usually she stood on cold stone – flowers were a nice adjustment. The blonde pushed the hair out of her eyes and smoothed her skirts, dusting lavender petals from the folds of her dress.
"Well, we wouldn't want to keep our gentle king waiting, would we?"
Dwalin stifled another smile and escorted Evangeline through the gorgeous ocean of rolling purple blossoms, enjoying the way the wind made waves across the long stretch of lavender.
When they arrived at the collection of ponies and dwarves gathered under the shadow of a massive tree, Evie greeted her friends as if she had been gone a very long time, though it could not have been more than half an hour or so. Telchar tossed her an apple and the hobbit bit into it eagerly, her appetite returning in force now that there was food before her.
Thorin sat with his back against the trunk of the great oak, smoke wreathed around his head like a silver crown. Wisps of it curled up into the low hanging branches above him, disappearing into a blockade of green leaves. Evie's first instinct was to sit beside him, to try tenderness as a salve to his foul mood, but the somber look on his face warned her off the idea. Instead, she reclined in an open space between Dwalin and Telchar, folding her knees beneath her and thanking Dwalin for the chunk of cheese he offered the hobbit.
"It's a rather nice day, even without the sun."
She observed, peeking up through the thick canopy of the tree at the little glimpses of grey that slipped in between the lush green. There was no sun, indeed, but the silver sky was bright despite it. Like a great blanket wrapping around Eriador. It was strange to her that people could look up at that same clouded expanse, which stretched on forever, or so it seemed, and every single one could think of it differently. Evie wondered what Thorin saw when he looked up. The sky was obscured by the tree and the smoke of his pipe, so the hobbit doubted he could even see it from where he was sitting. Perhaps that was the problem, not his perception.
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When they were mounting their ponies again and preparing to set off on the next leg of their journey, Evie stayed close to her husband. Just the two of them were astride their mounts for a moment as the others finished packing up the remains of their lunch.
"Thorin," Evie asked, intently. "Do you find this weather unfavorable?"
Maybe that was the cause of his foul temper.
"No," he refuted, regarding the sky appraisingly. The corner of his thin lips twitched, almost as if he was about to smile.
"No?"
She repeated, stunned. Silence reigned for a moment, broken only by Dwalin's grumbling as he prepared to mount his pony and the animal's snorting response.
"You don't find it rather gloomy?"
She urged, desperate for conversation with him, even if it was forced.
"No," he surprised her with the casual certainty of his tone. "It's the color of your eyes."
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Author's Note: I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated last! Everything has been so busy for me lately and I have simply not had any time to write! But here is something new, and there is more to come. I hope you are all well, and a great thank you to those of you still following along! Some have been curious in the comments if the story will include the journey to Erebor – I will not say too much, but I will tell you that this story ends, indeed, as the events of The Hobbit end. As that book has already been written, and three wonderful films adapted from it, I will not be including all the events of that narrative, but it will figure them into Home and I will share a different perspective on the telling, in an abridged format. I'm not sure entirely what it will look like, myself, but Home will conclude at Erebor, as I think it was always meant to.