The Promise
Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Original Character (Slow Burn aka Friends First)
Summary: Taken in by the Durin’s when she was a child, Eleonóra has lived through it all; the glory of Erebor, Smaug, the journey to Erid Luin and now a Quest to reclaim the hallowed halls stolen from them so many years ago. With a promise to a dying princess to fulfill she will do anything to keep her boys, all of them, safe from whatever lies ahead on the road to their lost homeland.
Warnings: Nothing really. Will be following events of The Hobbit so expect dragons, goblins, orcs, etc. A little bit of bloodshed in the form of battles but nothing gratuitous. Maybe some sexual references but that’s only because I get so caught up in the might of Thorin Oakenshield.
My Dear Frodo, You asked me once if I had told you everything there was to know about my adventures. And while I can honestly say I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it. I am old now, Frodo. I’m not the same Hobbit I once was. I think it is time for you to know what really happened.
Bilbo ended the note with a faint smile before opening the leather-bound book he had been keeping for this particular story. The red leather had once been too painful to see – its shine too familiar to bursts of flame that sometimes still hounded him. But now, with so much time passed and a new era dawning, it was time to pass on this tale.
His hand ghosted over the supple cover, stopping at the intertwined silver B’s at one corner before he opened it and felt a gasp leave his lips as his own eyes stared up at him.
He lifted the sketch from the page where it had been safely tucked, and traced the outline of the much younger face he once wore. It was not the only one that had been stored within these pages, he realised as a dozen thin sheets slid out from behind it.
Most were very rough outlines, memories that he had been desperate to recapture upon his return but the charcoal had never done them justice – never captured a laugh or a groan at another campfire tale, never quite soft enough around the gleaming eyes of his companions.
There were only a few he had managed to fully complete. One was particularly striking; a mountain, far off in the distance with a raven heading straight for it. Not a raven, he recalled with a smile; a thrush. He could still feel the sunlight warming him after their escape and could see the joy in their leader’s eyes as his home loomed before them.
His favourite was the one that had taken the longest; a landscape of sixteen faces. He had used rough sketches of them from their time together to create it. The tiny pieces of paper had been just enough to capture the different smiles, the thickness of their furs and the happiness of sixteen people as they became a family.
The portrait of himself was different to the others, which made sense as it was not his hand that had completed it. The shading of the column of his throat and the definition in his hair spoke of a much more talented artist, one that had been taught this particular art form.
They had been sketching together underneath an oak tree just outside the Mountain. He remembered it all so clearly. Thirteen men were failing to hide their exhaustion as they helped rebuild their home and it was only when a basket of food was revealed did they finally hand over to a younger group of eager residents, desperate to make their mark on this place, and join them in the shade.
Their congregation on that patch of still-dusty grass had marked the end of their journey together and the sketches exchanged between the two artists as their companions dozed in the afternoon sun were promises of remembrance – promises to never forget what they did together, what they overcame and what they had achieved.
He reshuffled the sheets and placed them to one side, his favourite on top to act as encouragement as he wiped the empty page clean of any dust before dipping his quill into the inkpot.
He took a breath before letting the words flow from him; their inky marks the beginning of a tale that most could only imagine.
It began long ago in a land far to the East, the like of which you will not find in the world today…
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