#poxblogging

[quiterespectablyyours]

All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost. The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From an acorn a shield shall be carried, A light from the shadows shall spring; Reclaimed shall be halls that were buried, And the exiled again shall be King.

[quiterespectablyyours]

Lord Elrond once said, of the Great Plague, that it was a noxious Shadow sent by the Dark Lord Sauron to hobble the Kingdoms of Men, and it had succeeded greatly because of our lack of understanding of the nature of pestilence. 

Therefore, taking every precaution against needless spreading of disease, whether it be inoculation, social distancing, or sending aid to communities more affected than our own, is a strike against the will of the Dark Lord.

[quiterespectablyyours]

Six years ago, our paths first crossed this day, When all your kin spilled forth into my halls. They sang of distant homelands far away, And with my heart, I rallied to your call. The Road was long, with peril at each turn: Foul beasts and dragons leading us astray. Yet all the while our hearts began to burn, And for your love, I bravely led the way Into your halls, where burdens came in gold. In hollow rings and crowns, we fell apart — Left sundered by the Misty Mountains cold Until you chose the calling of my heart. Does it still bloom? No more, but blooming’s fleet — My love’s an oak that grows eternally.

[quiterespectablyyours]

The last time I had been in Erebor, I had refused the role of Consort. I still maintain that had been the correct choice at the time considering the state of my mind. The Crown, with its powers and riches, would have kept poisoning me even long after all of that nastiness with a certain viper. 

Honestly, I had fully expected pushback at my return to the Mountain, given how I had caused their King to disappear for almost the entirety of the Restoration, right when they would have needed him the most. But apparently the whole notion of Thorin giving up his kingdom to chase after little old me was so heart-shatteringly romantic that it had opened up a veritable mithril-mine of poetry and song. I was told that mine and Thorin’s tragic love story was on par with that of Celebrimbor and Narvi’s, but even better because “it was about time a tragic love story in Arda didn’t focus on the Elves.” (Balin’s words, not mine.)

I pointed out that tragic love stories usually involve someone dying, to which the reply was “The Kingslayer and his nightingale did eventually live happily ever after.” Which is an interesting perspective on the Lay of Leithian, considering the too-familiar lust for gold and jewels that caused the downfall of Doriath.

So now there is a nine-hour-long opera in Khuzdul about us. It starts with the Quest and ends with Thorin deciding to chase after me, and the rather romanticised semi-accuracies throughout tells me that the Company was consulted in the writing of this opera. The Dwarf who plays me has to wear a half-face veil the entire time to show that I don’t have a beard, and the whole thing is just incredibly mortifying, especially the bits after Thorin’s second coronation. My character has a recurring song about his morning routine, for Eru’s sake.

But yes, a couple days after my return the question was posed once more, and this time I said yes. Thorin and I had talked about this a great deal over the years. Our places are at each other’s side, no matter where the Road will take us. He cannot live the rest of his life torn in two, and so in a year or two, he will officially pass the crown on to Fíli and retire to an advisory position regarding kingship duties. Our roles as senior members of the Ereborean Royal family will be mostly ceremonial and related to goodwill diplomacy, and we will have the freedom to move between the Shire and Erebor to our heart’s content.

Thorin deserves to be one and whole for the rest of his days, and I intend to be there with him for as much of it as I can.

[quiterespectablyyours]

Hello everyone! It has been several years since our last post. So much has changed in Erebor since we last left it. The rebuilding is now officially complete, alongside the rebuilding of Dale and Laketown, but other external factors have prevented Thorin and me from having our Erebor wedding as planned.

[quiterespectablyyours]

Under Thorin’s express wishes, I was the first to be inoculated when the technique reached Dale, but I had rather wished that the healers in Dale and Laketown had been accorded that honour as they are in more dire need of the treatment. But I know Thorin only did that out of worry for me, since limitations on my freedom did not work so well for me last time I was in Erebor for an extended period. 

Still, I am now doing what I can to help, such as helping the kitchens deliver food to the healers and the families of pox patients in Erebor’s infirmary. Having purpose in helping people has kept my own darker thoughts at bay.

[quiterespectablyyours]

Finally, Thorin and I have been able to have some time to ourselves. We took a walk out on the ramparts, listening to the evening bells of Dale in the vale below. 

I remember the first time we did this upon our return to Erebor back in SR 1344. Given our past history with this part of Erebor, and all the painful memories elicited before, I had initially had my misgivings. But I think the time we had spent in the Shire rebuilding our relationship in marriage helped a great deal for our first walk back here. Though my breath came short and my hands were clammy, I at least did not recall any bad memories. 

It has taken countless walks here together for the knots in my chest to fade. Sometimes, even now, I still panic if Thorin presses me too close to the walls up here. But for the most part, I feel as if I have reclaimed something of my own — as if I have pierced my own personal dragon with the arrow of Thorin’s love and support. 

But back to tonight. Thorin was very pleased with something that had transpired in his meetings today. When I asked him about it, he said that according to reports, the meal programme to help the healers in Erebor has been such a success that Bard intends to implement the same in Dale and Laketown. He claims that it’s all because of me, but I demurred, saying that Bombur and the kitchens did most of the work and I was just a glorified serving-lad. He laughed and kissed me at that, saying that the pox patients have likened me to the Giver of Fruits herself. That made my face heat up.

Still, I’m glad to hear that Bard is planning such a venture, though I suggested to Thorin that interim help to Laketown from Erebor could potentially be appreciated, especially since Erebor has not been as badly affected as the settlements of Men. He agreed, probably remembering the old promises we made to Laketown to share the wealth. While Erebor does not have the capacity to make the meals themselves (plus they will go cold during the delivery process), we can send needed supplies for the inoculation.

Our thoughts then turned from these serious things towards our delayed wedding. “I apologise for keeping you in Erebor for so long,” said Thorin. “I know it is not an ideal place for you long-term.”

“I think the first time there was some culture shock,” I mused. He snorted at that, as if to say that was an understatement. After all, I very nearly destroyed our courtship over the events of our first year in Erebor.

“Still, if you are feeling unwell,” he began, but I silenced that train of thought as quickly as I could, in the best way I knew how. He leaned into the kiss, his arms coming up around me to draw me in ever-closer. I felt breathless, like it was our first kiss all over again. 

(Or, rather, our second kiss, since the first one had been pretty dreadful as far as his reaction went.)

“I have purpose here now,” I reminded him. “I have people to care for, things to do. I’m not withering away like a neglected houseplant this time, which is all the better because there is still so much left to do! Time will fly by until the wedding here, my love, and then I will be travelling all over Middle-earth until I am sick of it.”

“Say that again,” said Thorin suddenly.

“Until I am sick?” I wondered.

“No, the part after ‘time will fly by’,” he corrected.

I laughed at him, the big sappy lout. “My love?” I ventured. His face lit up like the way the peak of Erebor itself lights up in the morning sun. 

“Again,” he commanded.

“My love,” I replied, easily and freely, and he laughed and spun me around until I started kicking and protesting for him to put me down lest I get sick all over his kingly robes. 

It has been years since our first meeting in Bag End — six years on this very date, I believe — and I find that each day with him is still an adventure of the most wonderful sort. I cannot believe we have been married for almost five years now by Shire accounts. I cannot wait to marry him again in Erebor. 

[quiterespectablyyours]

Apologies again. I just made my rounds. Óin and the other healers are working so tirelessly. I wish there was more I could do, but Óin says my presence is balm enough. He’s just being nice, but I suppose I do have a decent bedside manner.

I know I must refrain from touching the patients for fear of becoming a disease carrier if I touch their scabs, but I still wish to hug all of them nonetheless. It must be hard, not being allowed to have the comfort of a friendly touch whilst sick.