Starcrossed Losers - [A Kili X OC fic]

Chapter XLI

Raewyn had buried all the bodies properly, giving them a formal Khuzdul ceremony, before leaving the site. She counted all the bodies - she had held all of them. If she had been missing someone, she would have known, and she would have spent her entire life looking for them. She didn't know whether to believe Zharad or not.

"I didn't know he had any," The dwarrowdam returned. "Didn't know you survived either. Gandalf failed to mention that until his letter arrived."

Zharad could almost feel the confusion and confliction filling the room. Raewyn was silent all of the sudden, but the dwarf couldn't figure out whether it was because of acceptance or distrust. Thus, she decided to continue: "His name was Roghud. He was your uncle."

The name was familiar. It was so familiar, but Raewyn couldn't place it. She had heard it before, a long time ago. But she would have remembered the names of her family members. She wouldn't forget any of them. There was her mother: Zura, and her father: Raegar. Then, her grandmother. Her grandmother's name. She was a specialist in jewellery and gems. She had a beautiful name. Beautiful indeed.

Her breath hitched. She couldn't place her grandmother's name. Did she even have an uncle to begin with? She must have had. There were six, which means there are still three left. Her mother, father, grandmother.... Maybe a grandfather? She had an aunt - her father's sister. What was her name? Did her father have a brother?

"You poor soul," Zharad spoke up, noticing the rising terror in the room. Gently, her hand rose. Feeling almost guilty for lashing out at the dwarrowdam, Raewyn grabbed her hand, her eyes set in panic and grief. Yet, she wanted to help the old lady. "The times have not been fortunate to you."

Rokal. It was a name so familiar to Roghud. But she couldn't place where she'd heard it. They were with six, but it suddenly felt as if there were way more. She had been there. Was she part of the clan of six? Or was she the spare seven? She couldn't even remember how many bodies she buried. Too many for a 41-year-old dwarfling. She didn't keep count. Or maybe she had, and she simply forgot. Maybe she had buried ten bodies, and not five or six. She never asked Gandalf. She was convinced she knew. She looked back on the event so feverishly, but only now she realised how little she actually remembered.

A gentle squeeze was send to Raewyn's hand, ripping her out of her thoughts and placing her back to the tent she was in. This was the first time she had gone this long without sleeping since the battle. Her mind was too anxious and stressed to shut back down now.

"Why are you here?" "I must apologise for announcing this all so sudden," Zharad apologised, sounding genuinely remorseful. "You are still healing. That is why I am here." The dwarf's hand left Raewyn's. Watching the dwarrowdam in pain and interest, she now noticed the bag she was carrying, and the amount of bottles held within it. "I was a herbalist before your family took me in. I took back my job after the raid. My skills lie far beyond your common medic."

Then, she grabbed a very specific jar. Raewyn didn't dare question how she knew she picked the right one. "This will help you more than the cheap medic's paste."

——

Gandalf had his hands full on dwarves and men. It seemed difficult for them to grasp the fact his spells would only get the soldiers so far. There were not limitless, nor were they miracles. Thus, they eventually left the wizard alone. Now, he was left with the complaining of Thranduil, the brooding of Bard, and the rough words of the new king of Erebor. All of them wanted the best for their soldiers and people, but none of them were completely willing to cooperate. Not even after surviving a grand army of orcs and goblins. It became even worse when Thorin decided Raewyn fell under jurisdiction of the dwarves and refused to let any elves enter her tent after Kili told him about the medic she had been left with earlier.