18

Two Months Later

The hobbit sat down at his dining table, his back facing the cozy fire and his belly facing his awaiting meal. He smiled down at the dinner, grabbing just a pinch of salt and sautéing the meat as the doorbell rang ominously. The halfling looked up in surprise. Who could possibly be visiting at this hour? Although, he thought to himself as he rushed to the foyer, it has been an odd day, with a wizard visiting and all.

The hobbit opened the door, revealing a bald and rather gruff-looking dwarf. A dwarf! Why on earth was there a dwarf at his doorstep?

"Dwalin, at your service." He bowed slightly, revealing that the tattoos on his brow extended all the way around his head.

The hobbit shifted his weight, letting out a small grunt of confusion in his hesitation. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours... Do we know each other?"

"No." The dwarf said simply, shoving past Bilbo. "Which way, laddie? Is it down here?"

"I-Is what down where?"

"Supper." Dwalin stated, looking at the hobbit as if he'd grown two heads. "He said there'd be food, and lots of it."

"He... He said? Who said?" Bilbo asked, but his questions were lost as his supper caught Dwalin's eye. He had no choice but to follow the dwarf in the dining room and watch as he devoured the meal. Bilbo sat in the corner, his eyes widening as Dwalin bit the head off the fish, eating it whole.

The dwarf hummed in satisfaction. "Very good. Any more?"

"What? Oh, yes, yes." The hobbit said, snapping out of his trance regarding Dwalin's eating habits. He turned and grabbed a bowl full of biscuits from the tea tray, stealing one or two for himself when Dwalin wasn't looking. "Help yourself." He said, holding the bowl out as Dwalin accepted it gratefully. "It's just that, um, I wasn't expecting company."

But before Dwalin could elaborate, the doorbell sounded yet again, making them both look up. "That'll be the door."

Much to Bilbo's surprise, he opened it to greet yet another dwarf, though this one was much less intimidating than the first. His hair and beard were completely white, and his blue eyes twinkled in a charming way that Bilbo felt he could trust. "Balin, at your service."

"Good evening." Bilbo responded, still shocked at the entire situation.

"Yes. Yes, it is. Though I think it might rain later." Balin watched as the hobbit just stared at him, sighing inwardly to himself. It was clear that their wizard had not informed the poor lad of their meeting. "Am I late?" He asked, though he knew the hobbit would not know the answer.

"Late? Late for what?"

But Bilbo was forgotten as Balin entered the home, laughing upon catching sight of his brother. Dwalin looked up from forcing his meaty fingers further into the jar, giving up his attempts to fish out the last biscuit. "Evening, brother."

"By my beard..." Dwalin began, "You're shorter and wider than last we met."

"Wider, not shorter. Sharp enough for both of us." Balin said sternly, eyeing Dwalin with mischief in his eyes. Slowly, their grins spread, both of the dwarves knowing what greeting was to come. Then, they gripped each other's shoulders and cracked their skulls together. Bilbo jumped at the action, though they seemed unfazed. Then, the hobbit remembered his annoyance, deciding to speak up for himself like a true Baggins would.

"Excuse me? Sorry, I hate to interrupt. But the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house."

"Have you eaten?" The elder dwarf continued his conversation with his brother, wandering through the halls like the hobbit hadn't spoken.

"It's not that I don't like visitors." Bilbo rambled on, following the dwarves to the pantry. "I like visitors as much as the next hobbit. But I do like to know them before they come 'visiting'." He said, bringing his fingers up to twitch in the air on the last word.

"What is this?" Dwalin said, holding up something he had found on the closest shelf closest to the door.

"I don't know. I think it's cheese. Gone blue."

"It's riddled with mold."

"The thing is, I don't know either of you. Not in the slightest. I don't mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind. I'm sorry."

"You think—" Balin had began, but both dwarves ceased their conversation upon seeing the hobbit raise his hands. Still, they shrugged off his reaction. "Apology accepted. Now, fill it up, brother, don't stint."

Just as the brothers began bickering, the doorbell sounded yet again. Puffing out a breath of air forcefully, he stomped out of the pantry and through the halls. He was furious, for he had had enough of dwarves for the evening. He opened the door, revealing two younger dwarves, one blonde and one brunette.

"Fili." Said the blonde.

"And Kili." Said the brunette.

"At your service." They bowed together after speaking in unison, straightening to reveal the respectful visage of the blonde dwarf and the cheeky grin of his brown-haired brother.

"You must be Mr. Boggins!" Kili said, his smirk spreading wider as he stepped forward.

"No! You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house." Bilbo said, beginning to shut the door to his home. But before it closed, Kili wedged his arm through and pushed the door open forcefully, nearly flinging the poor hobbit across the room.

"What?! Has it been cancelled?"

"No one told us." Fili agreed, both of their looks reading that of confusion and slight annoyance.

"Can—No, nothing's been cancelled."

"That's a relief." Kili said, stepping into the home as his brother followed shortly after. Bilbo watched in disbelief as the younger dwarves tossed him enough knives to last ten others and wiped their shoes on his mother's glory box. Eventually, the two dwarves that had first arrived ushered them out of the foyer, exchanging greetings and embraces as they lugged food out of Bilbo's pantry. The hobbit's brow furrowed even more when he heard talk of more dwarves joining them, and just when he thought that idea couldn't be any more awful, it became reality.

"Oh, no! No, no." Bilbo started, shaking his finger as he stormed to his front door. "There's nobody home! Go away, and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. I-If this is some blockhead's idea of a joke, I can only say, it is in very poor taste!"

But with his sudden force, Bilbo had opened the door so fast that his guests had lost their balance, pitching forward and falling flat on their faces. Eyes wide, Bilbo looked at the eight dwarves piled high on his stoop, barely squeezing through his doorway even as they lay on their bellies. Then, as they grumbled and shouted at one another, Bilbo finally discovered the real reason why thirteen dwarves were clouding his vision and making him see red. The Grey Wizard himself leaned down to the height of the hobbit hole, peering inwards with a slight smile to greet his host.

"Gandalf."

...

Thorin grumbled to himself, pausing momentarily to check his surroundings before starting off again. In all his years of travel, he had never gotten lost, yet now he found himself wandering in circles about Hobbiton. Rolling his eyes at his inconvenient misfortune, he trudged on. Gandalf would have to excuse his tardiness, for Thorin had gotten lost not once, but twice. He was far from amused.

Though, someone else was.

A hooded figure watched from down the road, smiling to herself as she saw the dwarf ahead of her round the proper corner. In her amusement, she nearly snorted; it had only taken him three tries to get it right. But then, the dwarf turned around, his eyes landing right where she stood. In a flash, the woman hid herself behind the enormous plants of a hobbit hole, hoping he could not see her in the shadows. He scanned the area, but eventually shook his suspicion aside, seeing nothing and continuing on. But the traveler had seen him, and as soon as her green eyes met his blue ones, her head had filled with that blinding pain, the one that spotted her vision and made her nauseous. Who was this dwarf, and why did her mind so desperately want to remember him?

She leaned against the pot of the plant and moaned softly, clutching her head in agony. As the dwarf moved further away, her head pounded less and less, but she still opted to wait until the pain was gone. Minutes passed, and she tried so desperately to knock down the iron wall within her mind. She felt as though she was getting closer and closer to her memory with each encounter with these dwarves, and the fact that one was getting away from her wasn't making it any easier. She was sick of letting her memory have it's way; at this point, she would force it to work herself in order for the quest to succeed.

She stood, dusting herself off and starting after the dwarf. She wasn't sure how much time was in between them, but she guessed it was more than she thought. Finally, after following the road up the rolling hills, she saw a glowing blue mark at the top of the green. After months of restless travel, she had reached her destination.

Leaning on the gate, she smiled as she took in the simplicity of the hobbit hole. Beautiful flowers bloomed in baskets hanging on the wooden fence. A small bench overlooked the lake behind her, and set upon the seat was a rather long pipe. She brought her gaze to the door and let it wander to the window, where she saw the very same dwarf that she had followed.

Again, her green eyes studied the figure she had seen before, taking in his long hair and blue eyes. Judging by the way he held himself, he was some sort of nobility, though his posture was familiar. She admired the faint grey streaks stemming from the top of his forehead, cascading down the waterfall that was the rest of his raven-black locks. That was when a glint of metal caught her eye. A bead, which held a braid in place. A bead that was identical to hers. Then, she remembered his name.

Thorin.

A loud CRASH! sounded from the gate outside, followed by a high-pitched cry of pain that cut off Thorin's words. The dwarves all jumped slightly at the noise, some readying their daggers within their jackets. Gandalf suddenly stood, leaving the table and starting for the door noiselessly.

"What was that?" Thorin asked, glaring at the wizard.

"You shall see."

"Gandalf." The King was in no mood for the wizard's secrets. His words stopped the wizard just as his hand closed around the door handle. The wizard sighed, stepping back and ducking low to meet Thorin's eyes.

"That," He gripped the top of the doorway, "Is the fifteenth member of our Company."

Murmurs erupted between the dwarves as those sitting next to each other conferred. No one had been informed of an additional member aside from the burglar that Gandalf had chosen.

"We did not discuss this in Bree." Thorin began, his eyes narrowing with distrust.

"That is because I did not know she would be joining us in Bree."

"She?" Fili said with surprise. Again, whispers louder than the ones before spread like wildfire through the Company.

"Enough!" Gandalf silenced them, for he was quickly becoming tired of their questions. "I shall collect her. In the meantime, Thorin, continue with discussion regarding the quest." As the dwarf in question opened his mouth, Gandalf cut him off again. "She has already been informed, Thorin. She is not missing anything."

The wizard ducked under the doorway again and walked out of Bilbo's home, closing the door just as he heard Thorin resume his prior speech. Seeing the damage before him, he rushed over to the traveler's side. She lay on the ground, shaking, and was surrounded by the wood of the gate that she had fallen through in her shock.

Gandalf knelt beside her, seeing the vacancy in her eyes. He hadn't expected the process to be this violent, but he knew what was happening. She was remembering.

The dwarven lass saw Gandalf's eyes meet hers, but the dozens of images from her past were what clouded her vision of him. She saw Erebor and the ball of Durin's Day, remembering the lump that had formed on Dwalin's head the next morning. She saw her mother scolding her for her tardiness, shooing her out the door in only a way Theresa could. She felt Thorin's lips on hers on the eve of their first kiss, and welcomed the sensation of the cool evening breeze on her skin. She watched as dragon fire consumed Dale, her mother, and the mountain. She watched as her first nephew was born, then the second. She felt the scream vibrating through her chest upon seeing Thror's head leave his body, and harnessed the rage that shook her upon seeing Azog's face. She remembered everything. Her name was not Rue.

Her name was Talia.

Once she returned to the present, she gasped from her position on the floor, feeling the cool stone on her back. Gandalf shushed her, whispering spell upon spell to release her from the process with ease. She panted, closing her eyes slowly as she allowed Gandalf to comfort her. Now, upon hearing the utterance of the wizard's magic, all of the dwarves crowded the window that Thorin had occupied in curiosity. Still, they could not see the figure, concealed behind Gandalf's back.

"You are alright. You are safe, dear. You are safe." Her eyes reopened to meet the wizard's, and this time, he saw true recognition. He smiled at the sight, but just in case, he had to ask. "What is your name?"

"Talia Rue Ashenstone," She said, her breath returning to her, "Butcher of Beasts, Lady of Dale, and Queen Under the Mountain."

Gandalf helped her up with a grin. "Welcome back, Talia."

"Thorin," She began, accepting the help of the wizard as she stood. "Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili... they're all here?'

"Quite right. I have no doubt they cannot wait to meet you."

They walked to the door together. Talia was sure to refasten her hood before doing so, causing both of them to share a laugh at her dramatics. Gandalf entered first, followed by the hooded figure that the dwarves were beyond curious of. "Allow me to introduce the fifteenth member of our Company."

She lowered her hood, her green eyes meeting the dwarves.

"Talia Rue Ashenstone."

The silence of their reaction was enough to make Gandalf chuckle. The dwarves all paled upon seeing her, for they felt they were seeing the dead. Talia looked around, smiling as she saw each and every one of the friends she held dear, aged another century in her absence. But before her eyes could land on the one she was looking for, she was nearly trampled by one of her nephews, who had leapt from his chair so fast she hadn't even seen him.

"It was you." Kili whispered into her ear, holding her so tight that the others worried she'd break. "In the forest, that day, it was you."

"Yes." Talia gripped him tighter, shutting her eyes and resting her chin firmly on her nephew's shoulder. She felt the tears falling before she could even process them. "Oh, Kili." Her voice shook as she smiled into his neck, welcoming his tears on her skin.

Then, the once silent gathering erupted into a monstrous cheer, for their Queen had returned. Kili released his aunt as the others wept around them, voicing their joy as she swept her thumb across his cheek. Her vision was blurred, but Talia knew that it was her other nephew who had thrown himself upon her. She let the happy tears fall as she sobbed Fili's name. Balin and Dwalin held each other in shock, for the elder dwarf could not control the downpour of emotion that fell on his cheeks. The commotion was chaotic and noisy, but amidst the cheers of her kin, Talia had never felt more at home. Even Gandalf dabbed at his eyes through his chuckles, watching as family was reunited once more. But one figure had remained quiet the entire time, his gaze transfixed on her.

After Fili released his aunt, he stepped back, allowing his uncle to slowly make his way towards her. Now, the crowd had settled down again. The only sounds that escapes the silence were occasional sniffles or shaky exhales.

Thorin took painstakingly slow footsteps to get to her, his blue eyes never straying from her green ones. He could not believe that she was actually standing right in front of him, after over a century of believing her to be dead. Talia watched him approach her with the biggest smile on her face. Once he reached her, the entire company held their breath as her hands cupped his cheeks, moving to wrap around his neck and draw him closer. His heart had never beat faster in his life.

"Talia."

"Thorin."

She spoke his name, and it was like hearing her voice was the confirmation he needed to prove he was not dreaming. He pulled her into his arms, holding her closer than ever before. She leaned into him, burying her face in his neck. Again, the company hooted and hollered at the return of the King and Queen, pumping their ales in the air as they embraced.

"I thought I'd lost you." His voice sounded so soft, so broken under the screams of the dwarves that her heart ached for his pain.

"You can't get rid of me." Talia smiled, pulling her head away from him and resting her forehead on his. "You, of all people, should know that by now."

Thorin couldn't wait another moment. He pressed his lips on hers, enveloping her in a kiss that told her of all the love and pain that they had endured together. She returned the kiss with that same passion. Of all that they had missed in this past century, this was easily the most cherished. Talia smiled into him as the dwarves cheered even louder than before, causing her to break away and laugh at them.

The rest of the evening was a merry celebration. Though their host had retired before Talia had arrived, the party continued on. Talia had never enjoyed a dwarven party more than that one, for she could not be more grateful and fortunate to have such a family. She sang with her nephews and embraced Balin and Dwalin heartily, teasing them for their tears and becoming soft in her absence. Despite how swept up she was in the festivities, Thorin never left her side. She kissed his cheek more times than she could count, making him smile like the old days.

Into the wee hours of the night, only Thorin and Talia lay awake, resting peacefully on a sofa in front of the fire. Their limbs were intertwined, just like their hands. Talia's head lay on Thorin's chest, and she could hear his heartbeat slow in harmony with his breathing.

"Talia?"

"Yes?"

"What happened to you?"

Talia sat up, shifting herself to an upright position on the couch. Once she was settled, she looked at Thorin with wear. She knew what he saw. She was gaunter and skinnier than she had ever been, and her green eyes, once holding only light and joy, were now weighed down by the years that had hardened her. Talia knew her story would break the heart of the dwarf she loved, but she owed it to him more than anyone else.

"I was taken captive during the battle of Moria. Bolg knocked me unconscious and dragged me to Dol Guldur while you earned your title of Oakenshield. But in the process of my capture, they had also damaged my memory. I woke up in a cell, not knowing who I was and why I was Azog the Defiler's prisoner. Even so, that did not stop him from trying to force me to remember. He tortured me for one hundred and fifteen years, and yet I still knew no more than I did the day I arrived."

Thorin watched her recount the tale, sadness seeping into his features. He had never seen her so broken.

"Then, with the help of a friend and fellow captive, we escaped, three months ago to the day. With Gandalf's assistance, I physically healed, yet, my memory still had not returned. It was like a curse." She said, looking back to Thorin. "I went to the Blue Mountains upon Gandalf's suggestion and saw you and Kili, hunting me in the woods with Dis and Fili in tow. Though, I still did not know who you were."

"When did you remember?"

"Moments before Gandalf opened the door." Talia admitted, much to Thorin's shock. "It was my bead in your hair that sparked it."

Thorin watched as her hands brushed up his chest and raked through his hair, finding the braid that she had made all of those years ago. Her fingers traced the pattern on the cool metal of the bead, sending shivers down his spine. He reached his hand up and closed it around hers, his palm warming her cool skin. He had no words for her, no words to offer for her suffering and pain. He knew he would never understand it. All he could do was help her heal along the course of their adventure, and although he did not know it, she would forever be grateful for such a deed.

"Come here."

So she did, leaning into his chest and adjusting her body to fit his. With an arm around her waist, he closed his eyes, letting the sleep that his body longed for overtake him. Talia watched as his blue eyes fluttered to a close, smiling to herself. He looked so young when he dreamed. Then Talia's own eyelids shut soundly, her body and mind falling into a deep state of rest. The pair never slept sounder than they did that night, for after all of these years, they had finally found each other once more.

Mahal knows they were not willing to give that up anytime soon.