Chapter One

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As an author, I am assuming that anyone reading this story is familiar with J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit and/or Peter Jackson's movie, The Hobbit  An Unexpected Journey.  I often refer to events that have happened in the book.  Just a warning.  Sorry for any confusion! 

If you have not read the book or seen the movie, I would highly recommend both!

This is fan fiction based on the works of J.R.R. Tolkein and Peter Jackson's vision of them.  I was caught by something Richard Armitage said of his character Thorin Oakenshield, that Thorin had given up something for his people, that he may have been betrothed to a princess.  I wondered what would have to happen to keep them apart after Erebor, assuming they both survived. Being a romantic at heart, for me, they both had to survive!  But now, as I follow their characters, I'm not so sure that was a kindness.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Esja pronounced  Asia.

Esja knew she was dreaming. She knew the sweet scent of Jessamine could only be found on the rocky slopes of the Lonely Mountain. She knew the smiling blue eyes watching her as he brushed fragrant petals across her lips were only her imagination. She knew the dark braid she slowly wrapped around her finger, pulling his mouth closer to hers, was not real. She didn't care. His blue eyes flashed as she lifted her mouth to his, only just catching his bottom lip. Her head dropped back, and she propped her arm behind it, smiling at him. He bent closer, but instead of seeking her mouth, whispered her name in her ear and nipped at the sensitive spot just under her earlobe.  

"Esja," he whispered, lips brushing her skin. 

He pressed three gentle kisses down her neck, the tip of his nose grazed the top of her breasts, his soft beard tickling her skin as he pressed a final kiss at the cleft.  

"Thorin!" she gasped and awoke. 

The sound of his name echoed in her ears, a name she had not spoken for over one hundred fifty years; it slipped like his hand down her spine. Her body trembled, and she closed her eyes at her response. Caught half awake and aching, Esja forced herself from her bed. Dragging the blue fox blanket around her shoulders, she walked out of her room and up a dimly lit tunnel. As she stepped out on the granite ledge, a cold wind tumbled her curls about her face and ruffled the thick fur against her cheek. The moon was full tonight, and she could see, far out on the plain, the distant peak of Lonely Mountain.  Here on the furthest western edge of the Iron Hills, Esja had been brought after Erebor's fall.  

Here, bare toes grasping the frozen rock, wrapped only in her lush blue fox, Esja opened the gate. She allowed long-buried memories to rise and pierce her again. 

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She had just left the schoolroom when she heard Thorin's voice booming through the great halls. 

"Dragon!" 

Her eyes searched the high arches but couldn't find him. The next moment everything exploded with dragon fire and death.  

Turning, Esja ran back to the schoolroom and gathered the frightened children.  Using her best no-nonsense teaching voice, Esja told them they would explore an air vent today. As she herded the confused children into the tunnel and other teachers joined her efforts, she heard the unmistakable tread of dwarven boots in formation. They marched for the front gate. As miners and artisans urged her into the tunnel to follow her students, Esja heard Thorin's powerful voice again guiding his men forward and steadfast. Her heart begged her to turn back, run to his voice, but she knew her responsibility. A soft sob escaped her as she stumbled up the shaking tunnel, doing her best to calm the frightened children and lead them to safety.

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