Long Live the Journey: Thorin Fanfiction

My Name Is...

A flame casted a shadow over an old wrinkled face, the face that belonged to an old woman who was one of the bravest that lived in middle-earth. True, she did not have all knowledge or fighting skill but she did what many had ever over looked; she lived.

A scarlet quill from the feather of a phoenix touched the crumbled parchment. The page was painted with the ink swirls of a story only she could write. Her wrist moved fluidly writing each character with perfection. She now was going to tell the tale to herself, because you know she had forgotten. Even after her many adventure, over ageing she had begun to forget many things, but the tale she wrote would never fade, not even after so many years after her own death...

I write this in the name that I was born of instead of the many names and titles I have received over the years. These wrinkled pieces of papyrus are to list down my adventures and should it concern any one this may be quite the take for you to read. I have sailed far into paradise but it is true that not everyone lives forever, not even the high elves. Before I truly die, I want to write my life in fear it may be lost through word of mouth. So my dear reader, gaze and listen to the tweeting birds outside the garden, they may be the last good thing you hear.

Now, I have many names, one including was the name I was given by my parents when I was born. My Father Lord Girion house of Gilford was King of the city Dale, while my mother Lady Mélliorna ruled as Queen by his side. They were the most beautiful marriages in existence with the most forbidden wedding. Never was there a better pairing, not even between myself and loved ones.

I as a young princess, I already had high expectations before I came out of my mothers' womb into this world; I was after all the heir for Dale's throne, destined to be a mighty Queen. I was bathed in the pools praising to the mighty Goddess Vána the Ever-young in the great hall of my people. At the time I was a tiny babe, but when I was in my childhood I adored the bells of the great hall. I can still remember the beautiful chimes the bells made. Hundreds of individuals had come to the great meeting to celebrate my royal birth. And out of all these hundreds came a few higher powers who blessed me with seven gifts for my new life to this strange world.

But through my years I have discovered one gift that I can never and will never have, I learnt that I will never be able to keep time. Time was never enough for me; it went so quickly before you knew it. I realized how precious life was, especially when you lose the life of someone you hold dear to. It was only when I was nine years of age that my mother fell ill and faded into the next life. Having to watch her suffer in sickness was a worse torture than having to walk on embroidering needles. She'd lay sick in bed all day. Her last words to me were, with my vague memory:

"O my sweet and only child, if the dead can come back to Middle-earth and fly unseen around those they love, I shall always be with you; in the brightest day and in the darkest night, always...always. And when the warm breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath or the cold air on your tiny temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. My dearest daughter please do not mourn for me; think I am only gone for a little while and wait for me, for we shall meet again...I love you my little Darling...I love you."

And then she looked to me smiling, as if everything she could say was in that one facial expression, and I didn't cry. You see I did not see her die, the crying nurse maids pulled me aside. To be truthful, I didn't know she was dying; I thought she just wanted to see me since she was so sick, I just thought she wanted me to play with her, but when her chamber door shut I came to realise in a few hours that it was the last time I'd ever see her again alive.

My mother the Queen was adored by all, as she was the one to unite Dale to the elves and to the dwarves of Middle-earth. She spoke many different languages that she taught to me few, some now I have forgotten- but most I know still today. All the highest officials from royalty to mayorhood had come to bow their heads and pay their respects to the fallen Queen. Thousands upon thousands had come to the funeral. They had her body wrapped in white cotton and laid lightly across a perfectly laid out pyre. The falling and death of my mother was beyond any natural pain. My Papa hadn't cried at all while the flames carried higher and higher into the night sky, he only held me as young innocent tears trailed out from my blue eyes. However, I knew he hurt greatly.

I was sent to bed early that night, alone and cold, sobbing for the mother I had lost at only nine years old. My father didn't enter his chambers and instead spoke with the mourning lords and ladies before going to the great hall and drinking until he passed out naked across the grand table. It caused quite the kafuffle when the servants found him.

For many mornings that had come after, the people mourned for her calling her the wise and gentle Queen Mélliorna, only hoping that her daughter would be the same. Every sun rise the people would chant through the street, "Our High Queen Mélliorna has fallen and our new future shall thrive in her spirit...Long Live Princess Theresa!"

And reader, as you glide across my pages you will know me as that; for that is one of my many names, truly my favourite- Theresa.