Chapter Text
[Bilbo]
“So, this is the hobbit,” I hear once again in my head. Never have any words caused me to feel so many emotions. It doesn’t matter that he was trying to be menacing when he said it. The way he smiled afterwards still melts my heart.
Thorin Oakenshield. It’s a shame I had to leave Erebor, just as I was beginning to come to terms with how I feel for him. We were sure he was dead. We carried his body down to the halls, and we were about to announce his death to his nephews when Gandalf realized that he was in fact still alive, just barely.
I have yet to thank Gandalf for forcing me into this adventure. I should, as if he hadn’t I would never have met Thorin. I think back to our last conversation. We were both so happy, so relieved that it was finally over. Then I told him I was planning to go back to the Shire. He thought I would stay with the dwarves in Erebor, and part of me wishes I could. But no matter how much I care for my new friends, I miss Bag End. I miss home.
I think I’ll go back someday, though. Now that I’ve spent a year with Thorin, and the others of course, I don’t know what life will be like without them. Certainly more boring.
Gandalf says we’re only a few days away from the borders of the Shire. We might stop in Rivendell before we head to Bag End.
I think again to the friends I left behind. I remember Kili embracing the elf Tauriel, and Fili running to his cousins as people streamed into the slowly rebuilding city of Dale. I couldn’t believe they survived the battle. It must have been a miracle of some kind, that Gandalf was able to get to them before they succumbed to their wounds. I’m truly going to miss all of them so much. Balin, Bofur, everyone. I sniff and reach for a handkerchief. I pull it out of my pocket, but it looks different. It has something stitched in the corner, dwarvish runes I can’t understand.
“Gandalf,” I call to the wizard. “What does this say?” I hand him my handkerchief.
He inspects it closely, furrowing his brows. “Well…It has the same markings as those on Kili’s runestone given to him by his mother. Loosely translated, it says “return to me.” Now Bilbo, my good friend, it seems someone wanted you to stay in Erebor,” he says with a warm smile.
I smile too, tears in my eyes. I don’t think I’ll stay in the Shire for long.
———
[Fili]
“Uncle!” I call, running through the great stone halls of Erebor.
I never thought I would get to see it. When Azog stabbed me in the back and let me fall, I was so sure it was the end. But it was not, and for that I am so thankful. I get to have an entire life in Erebor, the home of my fathers; and the home of another from my family.
“Uncle,” I call again. “Thorin,” I say, running into the Gallery of the Kings, where I find him standing.
Thorin Oakenshield, the heir of Durin, King Under the Mountain, my mother’s brother. He turns around slowly, brushing his finger at the corner of his eye, tucking a scrap of parchment into a pocket of his robe.
“Yes, FIli, what is it?” he asks, smiling as he steps over to me.
I can hardly contain my excitement, and I nearly scream it at Thorin: “My mother. Your sister, Dis, she has arrived, with Mili too!”
Thorin smiles widely. “Why did you not say so? By all means, let us go and greet them.”
We run through the Gallery and to the front gate. Kili and Tauriel are already there, Kili hugging Mili, Tauriel standing politely behind, her eyes full of love.
“Mother!” I shout, running to her and throwing my arms around her. I kiss her on the cheek.
“My children, all together again! And all in one piece,” she says with a glance to Thorin.
“I told you they would be fine, sister,” Thorin says cautiously, with a small smile, hoping to avoid any upset from my mother.
Kili stands, and she notices the bindings around his knee.
She shrieks, exclaiming, “What is that? What happened to you? Thorin, tell me what happened or so help me…”
“Mother, please calm down. I’m fine now,” Kili says. “I was shot in the knee, with what I have been told was a Morgul shaft.”
At this, Mother covers her mouth in shock. Mili, our younger sister, leans on her crutch. Pain fills her voice as she whispers, “A Morgul shaft? They are poisoned, as the blades of the Orcs are. The only thing that could save you from such poison would be…” She trails off, her glance shifting to Tauriel. “Kingsfoil. Athelas.”
Tauriel nods, taking a deep breath and stepping forward. “Yes. Another from the company who was left behind on Durin’s Day brought it back to the home of Bard, and I used it to save Kili.”
Mother looks doubtful. She, like Thorin, has little trust for elves. I wonder, not without some worry, how she will feel about the love Kili has for Tauriel.
“Did you, elf?” she asks. Tauriel nods, and though my mother is by no means the tallest dwarf, she seems to loom above Tauriel with her power, for she is a daughter of kings and as tough as any of them.
“I did,” she replies. “And a close kinsman of mine, Legolas, killed the Orc filth Bolg that nearly killed Kili when he came to save me from attack during the battle.” She smiled with pride.
“Perhaps we have been wrong about elves, brother. For twice that I have yet heard, they have saved my son,” Mother says.
I hear Kili lightly exhale a sigh of relief. Tauriel bows to my mother and Thorin before walking out of the room.
Mili looks up at me, whispering when Kili turns to watch Tauriel leave, “Are they in love?”
I smile and nod. I whisper back, “I think so.”
She smiles and hobbles on her crutch to Thorin. Her leg must be hurting her more from the journey from the Blue Mountains. She hadn’t needed it when we left thirteen months ago to start our quest. Thorin takes her hand and leads her away to show her the Gallery of the Kings, something she has wanted to see her whole life. Her steps are pained, though she does not let anyone but Kili see. And once again, I’m left alone.
———
[Kili]
I follow Tauriel out from the front gate to the overlook above the bridge. I find her staring into the sky, the sun now sinking into the lake, and beyond, the vastness of Mirkwood. I know she could hear me walking behind her, but I still announce myself.
“So, what did you think of Mother? A bit frightening, no? I told you she worries,” I laugh as she turns to face me. But my laugh fades as I see her face. It is grave and a bit sad, something that I have not seen since the end of the battle. She walks over to me, and I feel my blood warm me and rush to my face.
She brushes a piece of hair from my forehead. “Your sister, Mili…What happened to her? I can tell from how she holds herself and her crutch that she was not born this way, and that the injury was sustained fairly recently.”
All the warmth drains from me as I remember what happened. I choke back tears, and my love swells for Tauriel, silently thanking her once more for saving my life.
“Please, Kili. Tell me. I want to know. Did it happen when you were on the escort trip you told me about? When you saw the fire moon?” Tauriel asks, her eyes shining and pleading.
I glance around me and lead her to the stone ledge of the overlook, hoping to avoid any distractions. The fires lighting Dale shimmer in the distance. She sits on the ledge to look at me expectantly. The sun is fading behind her and the stars begin, one by one, to shine through in the night sky. I hop up to sit beside her, and she takes my hand. I take a deep breath and begin the tale.
———
[Mili]
Thorin shows me the Gallery of the Kings. I have heard so much about Erebor in my short life, but 42 years of stories have by no means lived up to the glory and beauty of my new home.
“And this is where we poured the molten gold on Smaug,” Thorin explains as we walk onto the golden floor of the hall.
I take a step forward and stumble on the slick gold. My crutch slides out from under my arm and my left leg sears with pain. I let out a sharp cry, not able to hold it in. I crumble to the ground, grasping at the bottom of the back of my leg, closing my eyes and letting the pain slowly fade away, until it is but the normal, dull burn.
As soon as I fell, Thorin rushed to me, trying to help me up. I don’t let him. I push his large, comforting arms away, curling up into a ball from the shame and throbbing pain that I have been forced to live with every day since I was hurt.
“Mili,” Thorin says after a while, “Would you like to go rest for a bit?”
I shake my head. “Could you take me to the forges?” I ask, hoping to get away.
Thorin nods, and he hands me my crutch as I stand, trying to not put weight on my left leg.
He shows me the forges, and they are amazing. But it is not as exciting as when I first arrived. After he takes me to see the Arkenstone set in the king’s throne, he tells me to go rest. I am exhausted, so I do not object. He leads me through tall and wide passages of stone, to halls with bedrooms and other living areas. He takes me into the hall he has set aside for close family. There is a small bedroom across from his that he takes me into.
“This isn’t the room I originally had planned for you. Yours is not ready yet, and I am sorry for that. But until it is, you can use this one,” Thorin says, and I catch him brushing his finger by the corner of his eye, as if he was making sure nothing was there.
He leaves me and closes the door behind him. I look around the room, taking note of how small everything is. It is the perfect size for me, but I am quite small for my age. It does not seem that it was made for a dwarf of all. I wonder whose room this is, or was supposed to be, and where they are now. Certainly, they are not here, or Thorin would not have brought me here. I suppose it does not matter right now. I sit on the bed, which is soft, but smaller than what I am used to.
My dark blue dress only goes to my knees, so I am wearing a dark pair of tight trousers underneath of a dark, earthy brown. Mother said that it makes me look even more like Kili, which made me smile. I wish to be exactly like my brother someday.
I pull the left leg of my trousers up so they land just above my kneecaps. I turn my leg over so I can see the back of my calf, and the cause of my pain and struggle walking. I look with disdain on the scar that runs from just under the back of my knee to my ankle. It is about as wide as three of my fingers, and almost as deep. Since it has been almost an hour since I fell, the wound is almost the same shade as my skin, a light but warm tan, much like the other members of my family. However, the gash is fleshy pink as always, but I am certain that right when I fell, it was crimson, like the blood that ran from it when I got it.
The worst of the pain has subsided now, but it still throbs, as it has done as long as I have had it— over two years now. I pull my trouser leg back down to my ankle and tuck it into my boots. They are old and worn, as they used to be Kili’s, but they are comfortable and warm.
I sigh and stand up. I walk a few paces around the room without my crutch before deciding to take it under my arm once more. I do not mind walking with a limp when I do not use the crutch, but it makes me less tired. It is not as if there is any shame in needing to use something to help walk. I feel no embarrassment about my disability, as it is but a mark that I have overcome great adversity. It is part of who I am.
I have never been one to sit around for long, even with my leg how it is, so I walk out of the room to maybe find something to eat or someone to talk to. I walk up to the stone overlook above the front gate. I am about to walk out onto it when I see Kili and Tauriel there. I hide behind a pillar to hear what they are talking about, hoping to hear some profession of love.
Instead, I hear Kili say, “Then the orc grabbed her ankle, trying to pull her off the ledge with it. But Fili and I were not going to lose her yet. We held fast, and it looked like we were going to be rid of the orc when he suddenly shouted something and hewed a giant gash in her leg with his blade. He let go of her ankle and fell to death on the raging waters and rocks below.”
At this Tauriel gasps and I feel bile rise in my throat. He is telling her. My brother is telling her what happened to me. My leg throbs sharply again but I don’t care. Ignoring my leg, I run down the stairs and back to the room Thorin left me in.
I collapse onto the bed and begin to sob, my dark hair burying my face in a mess of braids and curls. I wish even more for someone to talk to, but no one comes that night.
———
[Thorin]
I leave Mili in the room across from mine before going into my own room. I lock the door before sitting on the rug in front of my bed. I had that room specially furnished. Everything is a little smaller than the other rooms; everything is sized for a hobbit. I was so sure that Bilbo was going to stay.
I reach into my pocket for the scrap of parchment I had tucked away earlier. A corner of my grandfather’s map, that Bilbo used to find the secret door into the mountain. It was stained with ale from the night we met in the Shire. A poor token to keep after a year of traveling and becoming friends, alas, what else is there to keep?
I had been so happy. The battle was over, the dragon sickness had left me, and he was going to stay. I had been wrong. He said he was leaving with Gandalf. He said that he would stay until I was officially crowned king. I told him that would not be for some months, as the rest of my kin had yet to return to Erebor. It would be likely to be a year away. He said he would have to leave. I buried my sadness and let him go.
I cried when he left, as I am now. What have I become? I am a king now. Yet I sit here on the floor, sobbing. I cannot help it. I would never say it out loud, but I must admit it sometime. I am in love with him.
I love his smile. I love how fearless he is, despite his size. I love how his curly hair shines golden in the sunlight. It is more beautiful than anything in this mountain. I love…everything. And he was almost mine. Almost.
I let out another sob and rest my head in my hands. I hope he saw what I stitched into his handkerchief, and that he will know what it means. I hope he comes back for the coronation. I miss him so dearly already, and it has been but a short time. I wonder if he is home yet. I whisper into the dark, although I know he will never hear it.
“Bilbo, where are you?”