Hiraeth - Thorin Oakenshield

𝐗𝐕𝐈 . 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

"A feast!" The Master cheered into the hall, his voice bellowing through the large room, "For Thorin, Son of Thrain, and the Dwarves of Erebor!"

The sound of cheers and pints slamming against each other filled the halls, the Master insisted on holding a party before the company departed, as well as providing them with a large house for their stay.

Thorin sat at the head of a large table, Fili and Kili on either side of him. Mylaela sat between Kili and Gloin, across from Balin. Despite her ill state, she chose to cheer and celebrate with the Dwarves, enjoying this night before they had to finish their journey.

"Can you believe it?" Dwalin cheered, "Tomorrow we will be standing upon the gates of Erebor!"

"Our journey is not yet finished," Thorin tamed their excitement, "We still do not know what we will find inside that mountain."

"For now," Mylaela spoke up, holding her pint up, "We celebrate our journey so far."

The Dwarves shouted out cheers as they smashed their mugs against her own, downing their ales.

"I'm surprised a lady can hold her liquor so well," Gloin complimented, nudging Mylaela's shoulder. The She-Elf raised an eyebrow, "Is that a challenge?"

The two burst out into laughter, calling for two more pints. After nearly eight pints, Mylaela laid a hand on Gloin's shoulder, "As much as I would love to continue this competition, we both need to be in top shape tomorrow."

Gloin sent her a suspicious glance before laughing, "After we reclaim Erebor, I will show you the true drinking capabilities of Dwarves!"

"I'm sure you will," she smiled, shifting her head to lock eyes with Thorin, a smile adorned his own lips as well.

"She will surely outdrink you, Gloin!" Bofur joked, an offended Oin mishearing them, "That Elf can not outdrink me!"

The company once against burst into another fit of laughter, spending the last night in light spirits.

Mylaela excused herself from the table, walking over to an unamused man leaning against a pillar of the hall. Thorin watched her as she walked across the room, a scowl forming as she approached Bard.

"You are making a grave mistake," he muttered, glaring at the table of Dwarves, "The release of that dragon will be the end of Lake-Town."

"I do not disagree," she sighed, leaning on the wall next to him, "I fear for the people of Lake-Town as well, but I swore to aid in the reclaiming of Erebor. My word may not be much to you, but I will do all I can to prevent any ruin."

"Then stop them," he pleaded, the sound of desperation in his voice hurt Mylaela to hear, "Step outside with me."

The two left the hall, Thorin's grasp on his pint tightening as his breathing became labored. Kili noticed his uncle's demeanor, "What is the matter?"

"Bard."

Mylaela walked with Bard down the docks of the town, enjoying the fresh air, "I can not stop Thorin from entering that mountain."

"But you can," he interjected, "He cares about you, I fear you are the only one who could get through to him."

"Bard," she sympathized, "I fear you overestimate his feelings. Thorin would not even listen to his nephews if they asked. He has come so far, we all have."

Bard remained silent, his fists tightly clenched in rage. Mylaela stopped walking, the Man turning to face her, "I can not stop him, but, I promise to you. Upon entering that mountain, I will do anything I can to contain that dragon. If he somehow escapes, I will do everything in my power to help rebuild this town."

"What about the lives that will be lost?"

This time, it was Mylaela who went silent. There was nothing she could do about the matter, a heavy feeling washing over her, "All I can recommend is you take your children and flee. Go far away."

"I will not abandon my people."

A smile was brought to Mylaela's lips at his statement, "I had a feeling you would say that."

Mylaela stumbled slightly, her hand instinctively going to her waist. Bard noticed, rushing to her side, "Your wound is getting worse."

"As long as I am breathing," she hissed, standing up straight, "I am fine."

Bard knew she was making a mistake being so stubborn, but he bit back his tongue. There was nothing that he could say about the matter.

"I want you to know, whatever fate falls above Lake-Town. I will not hold you to blame."

"Thank you, Bard," Mylaela smiled, staring up at the moon, "I should probably head to our temporary house now. If I do not see you before our departure, I wish you the best of luck."

"As I, to you."

Mylaela split paths, slowly and painfully making her way towards the large building they would be staying that night. Opening the door, the Elf was slightly startled to see Thorin sitting in the front room, "You should be in the hall celebrating."

"I could not celebrate while you left to speak with that naysayer," he grumbled, standing from where he sat. Mylaela laughed in disbelief, "Why would that affect your celebration?"

"I wanted to celebrate, with you," he answered, approaching her, "Instead, you left to talk to that Man."

"I went to apologize for anything that may end badly for the people of Lake-Town," she defended, taking a deep breath to prevent herself from growing angry, "Why should it bother you so much?"

"Because!" He raised his voice, immediately dropping it as he laid a hand on Mylaela's cheek, "I have grown too fond of you."

"I thought I was simply just a pawn," she teased, reciting words from one of their first conversations, "You have become my Queen."

Mylaela leaned down, slowly shutting her eyes as their lips grew closer. As their lips finally met, the two could feel each other smiling against the kiss. Thorin pulled away, resting his forehead against her own, "It kills me to imagine you with anyone else."