The Hobbit &The Lord of The Rings Imagines

Fili #4

The rain runs down your hood before making your way through the entrance of the Prancing Pony. You hate Bree. The weather. The people. The drinks...but the beer is the only thing to keep you from breaking down on the floor again. You flip your hood back when you were inside the famous Inn and you hang up your drenched coat. You shake off the rain from your flowing locks and go up to your usual spot on the counter, sitting on the same bench you've been sitting at for five years. FIVE freaking years of hell is what you call it.

"Just the regular, Y/N?" The bartender asked.

This always pisses you off; the same question every day. It's like he's making it OBVIOUS that you hang around here too much, always drinking and causing trouble. You have a very short fuse these days and get furious easily. It's the alcohol and you know it, but its the only thing that drives the pain away.

You only nod so you don't throw a punch at him and then he goes off on his way, leaving your thoughts to yourself. Usually your kind, witty, and a hell of a lot of fun. You used to love pranking people...now you like to kill people. A LOT. Way too often in your own opinion. You were sick. In a...crazy sort of way yes, but also emotionally. Your heart hasn't stopped aching in five years, and you feel like the frown lines are aging you. You feel thin. Weak. Old. But you're not old. For half dwarf, half human you were actually pretty young. But the ale, the frowning, the depression, it's all because of him.

You left him. You HAD to leave him. Your family was left behind in Moria and you intended to go and fetch them. You promised him you would return to Erebor but the death of your family while you were away changed that.

I'm talking about your lover, Fili.

The Bartender returns with your drink and you gulp down a few sips the moment he plants the mug on the table. You set the ale down and sigh in satisfaction, the alcohol already taking effect on you as you wipe the foam away with the back of your hand.

Fili. You don't want to think about him anymore. That's why you drink. To forget about him. You want to travel back to Erebor as you promised but now that your family is dead, TWO frightening things that could happen enter your mind:

1) You would be traveling alone now, and that's a year's journey. You would never make it back alive and then Fili would be truly heartbroken.

2) Fili may have already forgotten you. He might have given up hope in seeing you and moved on. By the time you get back to Erebor, he may have a wife and children.

That last thought wanted your heart to shatter and curse every swear word in the world from your lips. You don't cry anymore. You CURSE. The last time you cried was when you were saying goodbye to him. And that was a long time ago.

The sound of drunk laughter, the crackling of the hearth, and spilled ale fills the room and takes your mind off of him. You shake your head. You didn't come here to think. You came here to drink. And drink you shall.

You take another gulp as another thought came to mind. This is silly, dramatic even. Why SHOULD you care about Fili anymore? Thorin is probably deceased and Fili is now King Under The Mountain! He wouldn't care for you anymore either. He'd be a King that doesn't care about anybody because he's too fond of gold. The conclusion came to your mind too fast for your aching heart to manage:

Fili DID forget you. He doesn't love you. You left him, remember?

You sadly sigh and gulp down another sip, letting your depression take over you. Who knows? Fili might be even dead.

That thought quickly brushes away as a stranger in a cloak sits at least three feet away from you. The Bartender notices and starts speaking to the newbie in town. You peer out from underneath your matted hair to listen in on the conversation.