Suilad, mellon, and thank you so much for showing interest in this story! Here, I have compiled a selection of the life of YOU, yes, YOU dear reader, in the world of Middle Earth. Who will your path lead you to fall for?
Preference chapters that are...
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
It is silent between you two. Balin has slipped away back into the mountain kingdom, his footfalls echoing down the corridor and out of hearing, reminding you with each step you must be on your way. Oh, your heart, how it aches to stay, but it seems Thorin's disillusionment with you will have its way. The moonlight is dim, shrouded in the wintry clouds that have hovered ominously above Erebor, the ruins of Dale, and the Long Lake for the last few days.
"You mustn't go."
Your gaze flickers to the floor. You cannot find it in you to speak. As much as you wish you could stay, there is no home for you here, not as long as Thorin despises you.
"It's this madness, once he's come out of it, he'll see."
"Will he ever?" You look back up, trying desperately to keep your tone even and your gaze unreadable. "I don't want to say it's too late..."
Kili tugs at the sleeve of his coat. You can see his furrowed brow even in the dim light. "It isn't."
You glance away. It's hard to meet his eyes. "Right."
He scuffs his foot against the stone floor of the barricade. "What if I tell him?"
You both know what exactly you're talking about. It's clear to you both that you understand how he feels about you, but you shake your head fervently.
"Absolutely not. It would only make things worse between you and him." You rub your thumb and pointer finger together, a nervous habit. "I'm not worth it."
"What if I said you are?"
"Then you would be wrong." Your reply comes out harsher than you meant and you wince. After a beat, you add, "I am going to help the refugees at Dale, and that is final."
"Will you come back?"
You look out over the ramparts, giving a soft, nearly inaudible sigh. Steeling yourself, you step back, regretting ever hesitating to speak with him. It only makes this farewell hurt more.
"I don't have a choice in the matter." You shift the bag on your shoulders, starting to turn away, but he lays his hand on your arm, stopping you. Instinctively, you pull back, fighting the urge to look over your shoulder one last time. "Thorin has been trying to expel me from this place for some time. I should have left weeks ago."
"No, you shouldn't have, you shouldn't go at all-"
"Kili, please-"
"Tirnethêl, I-"
"Don't."
Despite your protest, he still says it, as you knew he would:
"I love you."
Your heart feels like it's falling in your chest. The rope goes slack in your hands. All the air slips out of your body at once and you freeze, those three words echoing in your ears. Your feelings are battling in vain for you to stay. What a miserable destiny this is, you think bitterly, where you must choose between love and loneliness. But it was never about you, was it? Your meaning in life has always been to help others. And that is what you must do once again, even as you feel torn in two.
