Hiraeth - Thorin Oakenshield

𝐗𝐕 . 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

Mylaela accompanied Bard and his son, Bain to the front doors of his house. Bard let out a whistle, dropping an apple down to the two fishermen below his house, "You can tell the Master I'm done for the day."

"Da! Where have you been?" A young girl called, hugging her father. A slightly older girl came from another room, "Father, there you are. I was worried."

"Here, Sigrid," he handed the older daughter his back, peeking out the window, "Bain, get them in."

The younger girl stared at Mylaela in awe, "An Elf?"

Sigrid joined her sister's amazement, approaching Mylaela, "I've always wanted to meet an Elf. I have heard so many stories."

"And what might be your favorite?" She questioned, kneeling to the ground.

"The love story and the Princess Luthien and the mortal Man Beren," Sigrid smiled, letting out a content sigh, "Have you heard of it?"

"Aye," Mylaela simply smiled, "What are your names?"

"I'm Sigrid, and this is Tilda. What is yours?"

"I am Mylaela," she smiled, a look of shock flooding the older daughter's face, "You're Luthien's sister!"

Mylaela nodded with a smile, Sigrid furrowing her eyebrows, "That would mean you are nearly 9000 years old!"

"Sigrid!" Bard scolded, "You never ask a woman her age. I apologize."

"No need," Mylaela chuckled, her gaze drifting to the sopping wet Dwarves who walked in from downstairs.

"Da? Why are there Dwarves climbing out of our toilet?" Sigrid questioned, peaking over the balcony, followed by Tilda, "Will they bring us luck?"

"Only the one with the funny hat," Mylaela teased, an offended scoff coming from Dwalin, "Bard? Do you have blankets by any chance?"

Bard directed Sigrid to fetch the Dwarves blankets, and Tilda to fetch clothes as he started up a fire to warm them up more.

"They may not be the best fit, but they'll keep you warm."

"Do you have any herbs?" Mylaela whispered to Bard, ensuring the Dwarves would not hear, "Only nightshade and feverfew."

Mylaela pursed her lips before nodding, "May I use some feverfew?"

Bard nodded, pulling out the pouch, "You may use the bedroom just there."

Mylaela thanked him, entering the bedroom. The She-Elf bit off a few flowers, chewing before swallowing as she untucked her tunic from her trousers, grimacing at the sight. The wound was beginning to bleed black, the veins around it pulsating with a black hue as well. A foul odor started to radiate from the wound.

"Mylaela!" Kili whisper-shouted from the door, the Elf quickly pulling down her tunic, "Ever heard of privacy?"

Kili shut the door behind him, a look of worry in his eyes, "Let me help."

Mylaela dropped her head, lifting the tunic once more, "It was poisoned."

"I'm aware," Mylaela hissed out a chuckle, "I am going to make a paste of feverfew to apply."

"Allow me," he offered, sticking his hand out. Mylaela obliged, watching the Dwarf as he grinded up the flower, turning it into a paste. A quiet cry left Mylaela's lips as he pushed the paste onto the wound, attempting to not allow the company to hear.

Mylaela tucked her tunic back in as Kili sat next to her, laying his hand over hers, "You are a brave warrior, Mylaela. I understand what my Uncle sees in you."