mithril

XX.

— XX —

A light flickers across my face, warm and gentle. The orange cast comes from a fire burning in a hearth. The flames are crackling softly as I slowly open my eyes. I am comfortable, completely swaddled in thick blankets. The bed I occupy is large, filling a good portion of the room. I gather my wits before I dare to move. I start to rise from the comfort of the bed, ready to seek something familiar from my surroundings.

A large, strangled gasp escapes my lips. I drop back, groaning loudly. An aching pain rises from my chest, burning along my side in an angry howl of complaint. I bite my lip tightly as I push against the pain. The coppery sting of blood floods my mouth as I move. I sit slowly and carefully, pushing my legs over the edge of the bed. I'm almost completely standing when a lancing flash of white travels through my entire body. I fall with a loud cry, my knees hitting the hard floor painfully. I clutch my side and stare at the cold stone.

The sound summons hurried footsteps that rush towards this room. Kind hands help me rise a moment later. Familiar, gracious hands. I relax at the familiar voice.

"Move slowly," Gandalf tells me softly. "You lost a great deal of blood that you have not yet recovered from, winimo." I sink back into the bed, wildly searching the wizard's face.

"Thorin?" Is all I manage to blurt out.

"Alive and well," a new, but familiar voice speaks to me from the doorway. Hot tears gather in my eyes and threaten to scour my cheeks as I take in the newcomer.

"Elladan," I whisper. My brother smiles slightly as he steps into the room. He stops at my side, sinking onto the bed next to me and lifting a calming hand to my head. The action is so unlike him ( Elrohir was always the one who acted so openly with his touches of brotherly affection, not so much Elladan ), but the action soothes my heart greatly.

"You went through quite the adventure, my Little Wolf," he murmurs in Elvish.

"Lord Elrond and Elladan rode for Erebor as soon as they heard Smaug was dead," Gandalf tells me, leaning against his staff as he watches me sink back into the blankets. "I fear I would not have been able to fully mend neither you nor Thorin had they not arrived in time."

Elrond. Here in Erebor. His healing touch bringing me back. Bringing Thorin back.

"Where is he?" I croak. Elladan's smile doesn't waver, even though he obviously knows who I speak of.

"Mending, as you are," the Elf tells me. "But he has also been acting as a king these days. He has the entirety of a kingdom on his shoulders, and he is coming to find that a wound cannot keep him from putting both Erebor and Dale back in order."

"I need to see him," I tell my brother fiercely. I'm expecting him to scold me, so I respond in like to my fear. His mouth starts to turn down, and I think he will do exactly that, but another figure cuts him off.

"Léra!"

"Bilbo," I smile widely. The Hobbit rushes forward, ignoring Elladan as his arms go around me.

"Careful now," Gandalf chides lightly. "She is still weak." Indignant, I push myself back up.

"Weak? I'll show you weak, Mithrandir." Elladan is fighting a smile as he lifts a hand. I stop struggling against the heaviness of my pain and tiredness as he motions for me to relax.

"I will take you to him, nethel," he tells me.

Bilbo steps away as the tall Elf helps me up from the bed. I wince, my hand covering my side as it tugs painfully. My chest twinges as I stand. My legs wobble beneath me, but by leaning against Elladan I do not fall. He gently explains the pains as we move away from Gandalf and the Hobbit and into the stone hallway.