The Halls of Erebor

Aside

Once again she found herself surrounded by soldiers, peering out over a wall made of stone at another great valley. Unlike Erebor this place felt different. It was different after all. No matter how hard she tried, it felt like just another city. At first she tried to settle in but it seemed useless.

Leaning against the wall, she peered out over the open land, at the line where the forest stood like a wall against the open landscape. Autumn was fast approaching, the trees in the distance had started to show the occasional shimmer of gold.

As she stared out at the forest, she imagined herself running through the trees. The cool breeze against her face combined with the scent of rich soil. She desired the freedom the forest gave her. The freedom to disappear into the wilds.

"Elfling!" A dwarf called yanking her from her day dream. Turning she recognized the voice. Radmer, an ill-mannered dwarf, was yelling at her from further along the wall. His bright red hair stood out. "The horses need their stalls cleaned out, get to it!"

With a sigh, Frin headed towards the stables, not even bothering to answer him. Grabbing a shovel along the way, she traced the familiar steps to the stable. One year of this, and she was coming to her wits end. No matter how hard she tried there was no validation. Constantly she was left with the manure, the jobs nobody wanted to do. Her attempts to please the people around her always fell short. A kind of sadness had settled into her soul, making everything pointless. She could leave but there was Thorin.

Even the thought of him brought her a tiny semblance of hope. Some nights, she would lie alone remembering him, his smile and touch. His visits had become few. He was constantly with his Father and Grandfather, bound by duty to the family. There were whispers in the air, planning for a great battle but they were only rumours. During the scarse moments when they were together, she never asked him what was going on. His face wore the stress and she hoped to be a distraction, a source of peace.

In all her time in the Iron Hills she hadn't managed to make any new friends. Her fellow guards on the wall wanted nothing to do with her. Most people avoided her in the street, even Dwalin had grown distant. He would only acknowledge her with a glance. Balin, however, had remained constant. If she came to his home he would welcome her with a smile. He was her closest friend, always honest with her, looking out for her wellbeing.

When she first arrived back in the city, he had warned her about the mood of the people. As time had moved on, their anger towards Thranduil had deepened. They had grown hateful. He warned her to be careful, she had waved him off. Foolishly she thought the people were capable of seeing her as one of them, just as they once had.

At first, there were angry glances and muttering voices whenever she approached. It didn't take long for the glances to become glares and the voices to become insults. After a while, she grew used to being called elfling, pointy eared and an assortment of creative monikers for her elvish heritage. Now, she hardly noticed the taunts and jeers but they were still there.

Their jeers were a quiet echo in the distance as she approached the stables. Inside the place was just as she left it. After all it was her who had cleaned them the day before, and the day before that. It didn't take her long to complete the dirty, repetitive task but when she emerged the sun had started to dip instantly, cooling the air in the city. A distant bell chimed twice from on the wall, a signal. Her shift was over.

Heading back to her bunk she was stopped by a small dwarven boy in the middle of the market. The mess of dark curly hair on his head bounced when he approached her. "Are you the elf?" He asked big piercing eyes staring at her.

Kneeling down to look the child in the eye, she sighed. "Depends who you ask."

"I'm supposed to give this to ya," he handed her a rolled piece of parchment.