A/N The death grip Evanescence has on me today feels like I'm ten again discovering metal for the first time.
That has no bearing on the content of this chapter, it's just a fact.
Also y'all AIN'T READY.
But it's happening anyway so buckle up.
NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN
Which should be the disclaimer for every story I write. But anyway...
As they got closer to Erebor, her dreams turned sour. Well, more so than before anyway. Sleep became a luxury for them both, as she could only manage a few hours at a time before her dreams were swallowed by blood and fire. The boon of her pregnancy couldn't bolster her dreams forever. If she woke in darkness, goblins followed her, if she woke to lamplight, fire consumed her. Her mind seemed determined to explore every danger and what if. In her dreams, her legs felt like sandbags, collapsing beneath her at the knee. She'd wake up with a scream lodged in her throat or a churning stomach she knew couldn't be blamed on the baby.
But they were mere days from Erebor and she couldn't stop or slow down. Come dawn, red eyed and exhausted or not, she dressed and got on her horse and continued.
The morning of their final day, Ciril brought a gown instead of a tunic, one of several Josephine had only caught glimpses of. Deep blue with silver stars and their crest embroidered on the train which was so large as to drape behind her over Galador's rump as she rode. It would've taken far longer than a month's notice to make and she had a feeling Ciril had commissioned it long ago.
Their party split in two, leaving Boromir to lead the camp to the valley while she and Aragorn rode ahead with a company of men, Legolas, Gimli, Halbarad, Ciril, and her apprentice, Firiel . Gandalf, naturally, refused to miss any of the reunion and seemed a bit smug all morning.
Their pace was slow and monotonous as they plodded over damp, brown winter grasses. It was excruciating and her grip on Galador's reins let it show. She was so tense he was feeling it too and shuffled in the grass when they stopped to rest him and the other horses.
Firiel held her train as Aragorn helped her dismount, much more of a feat than usual in regalia, and carried it off the ground so it wasn't muddied.
Aragorn went to Galador's head and laid a soft hand on his nose. "Sidh, Galador. Sidh." He whispered, slowing the shuffling hooves with his soft tone.
"I feel…strange." She told Aragorn, offering Galador a soft scratch along his shoulder.
Aragorn's face fell with concern and he drew close, the horse's flank giving them a small amount of privacy, but for Firiel.
She continued. "Strange like…we'll reach the valley and I'll still be standing at Ravenhill and this was all a dream. Or worse, I dreamed that I killed Azog when I'm really bleeding out on the ice."
He pressed his palm to her cheek. "This is no dream, Josephine. No matter what your fears may tell you."
"I know." She agreed. "But something inside of me won't believe it."
"It will pass." He promised her, a promise that had never failed. He brushed his palm across her brow only to replace it with his lips.
Before the end of their rest, Ciril set a circlet on each of their heads, more modest than what they wore at home but important none the less. The Gondorian Company was ready for its arrival to the valley of Erebor and Dale.
Just before midday, they crested the hills with a golden sun above them. No trace of battle remained, not that she should have expected one. Even the hillsides were lush, with no hint of the tunnels bored through by the orcs. The walls of Dale were whole and its towers tall, strewn with colorful banners and the bustle of life. Beyond it, Ravenhill stood bright, full and strong in the clear air. The waterfall rushed, sweeping away thoughts of black orc blood staining the ice.
And finally, there it stood. Erebor. Not a crack or chip in its heavy gateway, its doors open wide while dwarves and men alike passed unhindered.
A horn sounded from Ravenhill and she jumped in the saddle. But it was a dwarf's horn, not an orc's, and it was answered by several more ringing out from the gateway to the mountain. Respectfully, their pace remained slow as they entered the valley, settling onto the smooth stone road. Travelers cut to the sides and bowed their heads as the company passed.
She tried not to stare as they rode through the gates, knowing there was an order to things and there would come a time for tours later. The halls were shining in lamplight and polished stone, and their horses were led away to the stables.
Firiel and Ciril laid her train behind her and followed in case of need as she and Aragorn led the procession towards the throne room, hand in hand. Hers was shaking.
The long path yawned in front of her but she could see several figures crowded around the throne where a heavily graying dwarf sat. Their footsteps echoed and when they came to the end of the path Aragorn spoke.
"Hail, Thorin, King Under the Mountain."
"Hail, Elessar, High King of Gondor and the Northern Kingdoms." Thorin's voice boomed, strong as ever. He got to his feet with the help of a thickly bearded Fili and the support of an ornate walking stick. "And hail Josephine, High Queen of Gondor and the Northern Kingdoms. Slayer of Azog and champion of the House of Durin. Without whom I would not still stand within these halls."
Behind him she picked out the faces of her friends, all older, grayer, and more heavily bearded then when she'd last seen them. Thorin came closer and his own beard shifted with a smile.
"Hello, old man." She said quietly enough as to not announce it to the entirety of the hall.
"Ever petulant, child." He grumbled. "How good it is to see you."
Formalities completed, she let some of it go and wrapped him in her arms. He was shorter now, than before, and rounder. Years had piled on him in her absence and she bit back tears that not five months ago, they'd fought side by side. Even by dwarven years he was old now, and she could see it in his lined face and tired eyes. He thumbed a tear from one of those tired eyes and looked back at the group.
"What are you lot waiting for? Come and welcome our friend."
His permission was all that had held them back and they surged forward like a wave, with Fili getting in first as the closest one. Each came in turn. Bifur, Bofur, Kili, Dwalin (who barely held back from lifting her into the air) Gloin, (who was also a bit smug) and Bombur, who gave a joyful hello from behind them all. He was so large he was being carried around on a litter by several young dwarves. Nori, and Dori were last, with no Oin among them. Balin and Ori, she'd unknowingly had to say goodbye to long ago, what had become of Oin?
"Come." Thorin interrupted, once everyone had been given a moment. "Let us retire to a place of more comfort."
Fili took Thorin's arm once again and the two led the group away, further into the mountain. Aragorn's hand fell against her back and she was sure he could feel her excitement tinging into his fingers.
As the path widened again, they came into step beside Thorin, giving them a chance to talk more.
"You look well, my old friend. In better spirits than I've had the pleasure of seeing before. It warms my heart."
"There's been a lot to be excited about since we left Gondor." She said, exchanging a brief conspiratorial smirk with Aragorn.
"There is much to tell." Thorin agreed. "And many to see. No doubt the men of Dale will have a feast to honor your arrival. I have heard even the elf king may come with his regards."
There seemed to still be no love lost between the two, not that she expected much different. "So I can tell him I told you so." She chuckled. "Perfect."
They came to a large sitting room with an enormous cracking fireplace surrounded by chairs and cushions. Thorin sat heavily in the largest wooden chair with a grunt and motioned to the chair beside him. "Come." Fili moved another chair right next to hers for Aragorn then took to Thorin's other side. "I will hear your tales."
Servants moved around the room pouring wine and ale and presenting platters of food. Aragorn took a goblet and requested tea for her.
"A vintage brought from Esgaroth, you will find no better. I thought it fitting." Thorin explained as he watched her refuse.
Josephine bit the inside of her cheek and fought a smile, then figured it was as good a time as any. "I'll have to take a bottle home to try later. It isn't good for the baby."
The noise of the dwarves settling in disappeared and the room fell silent as all their eyes landed on her. Beside her Aragorn smirked and their friends went on with finding seats.
"You hear that lads?" Bofur hollered. "Mother bear's havin' a bairn!"
In a flurry of dwarves that made her wonder if they were about to break into song, a table was beside her piled with food, her feet propped on a cushion, and a thick fur draped over her legs. There were no bear hugs or slaps on the back for her, just soft pats and a kiss on the cheek or head here and there. Aragorn however, barely introduced but already somewhat well known by the company, got a congratulatory clap on the shoulder from Dwalin that nearly pitched him onto the floor.
Aragorn sat with her, staying quiet as they congratulated her and watching the warmth that poured from the company. She seemed comforted by them being close and resting within the halls of Erebor. And why should she not? Her life had nearly been given in service of the very future that was now laid before her in jeweled glory.
She sparkled along with it in the firelight and Thorin was holding her hand, seeming content himself, like a grandfather heartened to see his favorite granddaughter.
Before the tale could begin, the doors flew open and three very young dwarves ran in like a windstorm, soon to be corralled by Fili and Kili who shooed the children towards them with introductions. Two light haired boys, Thorin II and the younger, Orin were spoken for by Fili. The third, a small dark haired girl called Nis, Kili's daughter. The three greeted them respectfully and were instructed on no uncertain terms, that she was was their Aunt Josephine.
"And your uncle-" Kili started, turning to him then realizing he wasn't really sure if he should.
"Estel." Aragorn finished for him. If they deemed it well to offer him such an honor, he would not deny it.
The boys ran off quickly, enamored with seeing Gimli and Gandalf again. Nis stayed back and let Josephine scoop her up into her lap.
She smiled at Kili with wet eyes. "You're all grown up. Your beard is even down to your knees." She then gave it an affectionate tug and Aragorn could've sworn the dwarf almost blushed beneath his whiskers.
"Alright then." Dwalin grumbled, growing impatient. "Out with it, the whole thing, from the beginning."
So she did, as if her days since Dunland had been boiling inside her for years just waiting to be let out. At times Gloin, Gimli, and Gandalf interjected but still she spoke for hours. Questions and clarifications waylaid them but she didn't seem to mind.
She tired, but either didn't notice or didn't mind and Aragorn could tell she had no intention of stopping before the end. From Dunland to Gondor, Ithilien to Erebor, she told them every last morsel. The Ring was explained, and her reasons for entering Goblintown, which seemed to soothe something deep in Thorin that had sat for decades.
They ate and drank and the day grew old as everything was laid bare.
"And you," She said pointedly to Bofur. "Couldn't help but come to my wedding."
"Aye!" Bofur laughed. "Wasn't like ye knew who I was t' ye."
"He never lets us forget it either." Bifur grumbled.
"Drunkenly cried his damn eyes out." She added with a laugh.
Aragorn thought he might need to interject eventually and call for an end to the evening as she sank further and further into her chair, but Thorin beat him to it.
"That's enough for tonight. Lady Josephine has traveled far and needs to rest. There will be time for talk tomorrow."
Aragorn got up and took her hand as she stood. "Yes, we must return to our camp."
"You will have no camp." Thorin corrected. "Your men have been made comfortable in the barracks and rooms have been made ready while we spoke. Kili, if you would see them to the guest house."
"Of course, uncle. Come, Lord Aragorn, Lady Josephine. You must be exhausted, sleeping for two and all." He held his arm out for her to take.
"Not as exhausted as Mirkwood." She answered lightly, sandwiched between him and Kili.
Kili led them through the city and to a guest house already guarded by two of their men. Inside Ciril greeted them, having slipped away long ago to unpack and prepare for their arrival. Aragorn was relieved to see a bed prepared that was built for his height and then wondered why he'd doubted it; it seemed they'd been expected for many years now.
Ciril didn't do much more than slip Josephine into a shift and remove the ornaments and beads from her hair before waving her off to bed.
Josephine shuffled along the rug with a yawn, seeming to not care as he hovered and guided her beneath the covers and pulled them up to her shoulders. Ciril took her leave, and Aragorn slipped into bed as well.
Josephine was already asleep, still and lax against her pillows. But a peace seemed to have settled in her. An end to a task she'd long held above herself.
The dwarves had become as much her family as their fellowship had, that much was clear. They cared for her as a dear friend and Aragorn could not bear to hold any doubts that they'd cared for her as best they could during their journey. For that, he owed them a debt that he could never repay, for they'd guarded his very heart.