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An End and a Beginning
By : Evanscent
Category: +Third Age > Het - Male/Female
Views: 3732 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not own the realm of the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of Tolkien's works. I do not own the characters within this story. I do not make a profit from this posting. - Chapter List
An End and a Beginning
The wind tore at her long hair, whipping it up into a storm of rust and filigree. Her cheeks were damp, her eyes swollen. From a distance, she watched the flames and the lines of dwarves and men as they surrounded three monuments: graves.
The Line of Durin. Thorin Oakenshield. Fili. Kili. They were putting their bodies into the ground.
The wind nearly swallowed the low sound of the dwarves’ song. Three stone coffins were lowered into the dirt, statues rose above, showing each of the lost during their lives. Her horse tramped impatiently; he knew they were to be leaving.
Tauriel turned her back to the procession and began down the side of the mountain. She took no path for she wanted none. She felt lost and unprepared for the future. She meant to leave Middle Earth. There was nothing for her here. Legolas had retreated to the North at the behest of his father. She remained banned from her homeland, a captain with no guard. And now, her heart had shattered in her chest as the one she had only now discovered she had truly loved was gone.
Rocks rained down the side of the mountain as her horse looked for the path of least resistance. From an unseen edge, the rocks tumbled into a ravine and clattered with an echo. She paused at the cliff’s end and stared down into the darkness below.
With the parting of the clouds, the sunlight filled the darkness, exposing a great wall with dwarven carvings etched within the granite. The music was gone. A sudden stillness came over the side of the mountain as the wind settled and died. Her horse made impatient noises, his teeth grating on his bit.
“I need to see.” She pulled her unhappy ride down the ravine’s side to enter the shrine. She dismounted and set her heels into the ancient rock. The great wall towered over her; giant statues of dwarves were carved into relief in the dark stone. With her fingertips she touched an enormous boot, the rock cool and smooth.
She gazed upon the great wall. On one side, images depicted the death of one of their own. A funeral and a great feast were given in his honor. Tauriel sniffed. Surely the remaining Company had written dirges and ballads honoring their fallen. Surely the dwarves were drinking as they celebrated the lives and accomplishments of their brethren. Surely, someone was drinking a pint for Kili. She was certain that all those in Middle Earth would remember what had happened these last few days for centuries.
Someone would remember always. She would never forget.
On the other side of the wall, the fallen dwarf had what looked like his soul returned to him. He rose from his grave and met his kin at the feast given for his own death. The elf stared, creases at her eyes forming as she struggled to understand the Khuzdul glyphs that scrawled at the feet of the carvings.
Her heart began to race. She paced down the line of the wall, her footsteps echoing in the nothingness that surrounded her. Her hands reached out as she attempted to understand the story portrayed before her. “He fell in battle. They buried him.” She stole a glance to her horse, excited. “One of the dwarves left the funeral. He traveled somewhere far away, somewhere… somewhere underground.” Understanding the images became difficult. She attempted to put the scrawlings in place with the story, but she understood very little of the dwarven written word. “He sought out the soul of his fallen friend and brought it back to the surface. He laid the soul down on the dwarves’ grave. The fallen dwarf rose to life and he and his friend went back to the feast.”
Could it be true? Her face cleared, her mouth open. “Kili,” she breathed.
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