trigger

[Part III of III]

"Agh!"

Bella scrabbled to breathe, her small blunt nails biting into Thorin's heavy forearm. He had her pinned against a wall, her feet kicking uselessly a good two feet above the ground, and it was getting increasingly difficult to draw breath. Fierce blue eyes glared at her, full of hatred and betrayal, and Bella felt an acute wrench of pain in her abdomen. She had hurt him, she had gone behind his back, but she had been trying to stop a war, and Thorin simply wasn't himself, he never looked at her like that—

"You," Thorin snarled, leaning harder against the wall and cutting off her air entirely, "you filthy Halfling! You betrayed me! I trusted you, the company trusted you. How dare you steal the Arkenstone—my right!"

"Thorin-" Bella coughed, her head beginning to pound, "p-please…s-sorry…"

Those eyes were mad. Mad with power and lust of gold. And in her heart, she knew that she would die of a broken heart if the last thing she saw was Thorin looking at her with such hatred and raw pain. Just when the whole world sharpened to a narrow point, when the only thing she could hear was her own thunderous heartbeat, he dropped her.

She hit the frozen dirt hard, skinning her knees, and choked miserably for air. The precipice was a mere hair's breadth away. Something roared and rushed in her ears, and she fell flat on her back, gasping in huge breaths.

Thorin crouched over her. There was a knife in his hand.

Oh dear Yavanna…

He seized her by the hair, twisting her to one side, and in one sharp instant she knew at once that he wasn't going to kill her. He was going to do something far, far worse, and a sob burst from her.

The knife was sharp. It only took a second to saw through the small betrothal braid he had lovingly crafted behind her ear. She remembered that evening in a moment—when he leaned in to kiss her, the crackle of the fire, the tender way he stroked her cheek with his knuckles. She had snuggled down next to him that night, breathing in heady amounts of his scent and cuddling next to his warm chest. How deliriously happy she had been, and how she had thrown it all away.

But she couldn't have a war. She had done it to protect Thorin, to keep him from getting killed…

He stood and shoved the bead into his pocket. "Do what you wish," he growled. "You shall find no protection from the members of this company."

Thorin swept away, past the stricken Dwarves, who all looked at Bella with hurt and pity. But they wouldn't leave their king. Bella pulled herself up on an elbow and cried; his boots crunching through the snow almost drowned out the creaking snap of her heart breaking.

It was over.

She stood among the ruins of Laketown, big black flakes of ash drifting down to mingle with the snow. Over at last, everything that mattered—Smaug was dead, his carcass smoldering in the giant lake of Esgaroth; the battle that had waged, 'The Battle of the Five Armies', as she titled it in her head, was over and done. So many lives had been lost, so much pain had been inflicted. Memories, fresh and oozing, poisoned her thoughts and kept her from sleeping. Finding somewhere to sleep was difficult; the last time, she had woken up half the tent with her screams of fear. The other half had been dealing with dreams of their own. Terrors haunted them whenever they closed their eyes.

Her hair was pinned tightly up, away from her face, but the shorn off piece of hair fluttered awkwardly behind her ear and curled beneath her jawline. For a few days, Bella had been tempted to cut off everything, to just tear her hair out because nothing could soothe the savage rip in her heart, but it had passed. She kept the short lock as a reminder to herself—that in addition to battles and dragons and gold, her brief, desperate betrothal with Thorin Oakenshield was over.

"Terrible, isn't it," a gruff voice came from behind her. She smiled through her tears and relaxed when a familiar heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

Bella turned to see Dwalin standing next to her, his dark tattoos standing out against the backdrop of muddy snow. His burns had been bandaged and it had been a miracle that he made it through the battle at all. Surprisingly, he had been among the ones least damaged by the battle, although he was nursing cracked ribs, heavy burns, and an arrow wound to his shoulder.

She tucked his cloak more tightly around him. "You're not supposed to be out of bed," she chided. "The most terrible thing right now is the state of your dressings, and we're standing in the burning ashes of a massacred town."

He shrugged off her motherings. "I came to tell you –" he said, and then broke off. Bella looked up at him with worried eyes.

"Came to tell me what?"

"He's awake," Dwalin said finally. "The others didn't want to tell you, but I figured you had a right, and you'd find out anyhow, since you're the nosiest thing I've ever –"

Bella pounced on him and hugged him tightly. He groaned in pain and she released him, concerned and sorry but grateful all the same. "Oh, thank you, Dwalin, you wonderful Dwarf," she breathed, and pressed her lips against his cheek.

"Steady on," Dwalin objected, frowning, "the others didn't want to tell you because he specifically asked that you not be allowed into his tent."

Her heart sank.

"Did…did he say why?" she said, her gaze lowering. The image of Thorin's hate-filled blue eyes flashed in her vision and she winced. "That's a stupid question," she mumbled. "Never mind."

She put her hands in her pockets and fingered the small gold ring which had been such a source of comfort to her these past weeks. "No…I know that, I do," she said, her voice thick. "I should see him…at least once, before I leave. I owe it to him."

Dwalin cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the amount of sentiment currently floating around, and nodded brusquely. She looked up at him and then took him by the arm. "Come on, you big lug," she said firmly, "back to bed with you."

She delivered Dwalin back to bed and checked on Fili and Kili, who were both being tended to by Elvish healers. Fili had been struck by some kind of poisoned arrow which the healers were unaccustomed to dealing with, and Kili had received a rather nasty knock to the head. Both of them were recovering splendidly but unable to leave their beds or keep down any measure of food. Their tent was quiet and dark, and for a moment she just sat still and breathed.

Bella had planned to leave for Hobbiton the week after next, after ensuring that every member of her company reached some level of recovery. They had all expressed their sorrow with her, apologizing over and over again for not staying with her after Thorin's accusations, but Bella had forgiven the lot of them. It wasn't their fault, not a bit—Thorin had been the one to pin her up against a wall, and there wasn't a single Dwarrow who would go against the will of their king. She couldn't blame them.

But Thorin…

She still loved him. Deeply, ferociously, wildly, she loved him with the kind of bone-deep emotion that she had previously thought herself incapable of feeling. A crush—pah. No tween had felt this way before. But he would never forgive her, never truly see past the betrayal she had wrought against him. And yet, no matter how many times she agonized over her options, how many times she went back in her mind and replayed their encounter, there was nothing else she could have done. Bella would have done it again—stolen the Arkenstone and given it to Thranduil, even at the cost of her betrothal and Thorin's love for her. That was why he could never love her; because in her heart of hearts, she would do it again.

Bella tucked her cape more firmly around her throat and then left, her heart hammering in trepidation.

Thorin's tent was dark, and she could see Dori sitting outside, smoking a pipe and guarding the entrance. The urge to slip on the ring and sneak inside was strong, but Dori would notice the tent-flap moving, and anyway, he would hear Bella talking. Thorin most likely wouldn't speak to her. So she summoned some courage and hurried up to the tent, walking towards Dori.

He squinted at her. "Dwalin told you then, eh?"

Bella feared her voice would squeak, so she simply nodded.

Dori sighed. "I shouldn't let you in, lassie."

"Please, Dori," Bella found her voice, and swallowed. "I…I need to see him just once. Just to say some things. I'll go mad, I know it, if I leave for home without saying them."

Dori's mouth tightened. "Aye, I know."

"May I please enter?"

Wordlessly, he gestured with his pipe, and Bella pushed aside the tent flap.

It was very dark inside, and it smelled of damp fur, sweat, and ground herbs. She knew that smell—it was a sickroom smell. But she could see him lying on the bed, his silhouette still proud and unbent despite the vicious beating that had been given to him by the Orcs; his chest rose and fell steadily. Dwarrow were hardier than most, she knew, but the injuries he had sustained were painful and many.

"Is that you, Balin?" he rasped.

Bella almost couldn't speak. Then, she licked her lips and said, "No…no, I'm afraid it isn't."

He went abruptly silent, and his chest hitched.

"I know I shouldn't be here," she rushed on, "and you'll have to forgive me for intruding like this, but I'm leaving the week after next and I thought I should at least say good bye, because, I mean, we were betrothed at least for a little while, and if I don't say goodbye than I'll hate myself for the rest of my life—I already hate myself, and yet I feel so guilty that I don't regret my actions, I just wish there had been a different way, and—"

"Bella," Thorin rumbled, "come here."

Eyes full of tears, Bella obeyed.

He reached up and touched her face, turning his head with what seemed like an eternity's worth of effort. "Bella…ghivashel…forgive me…"

Forgive me?

"How I have wronged you…how I have hurt you…I have no right to ask that you stay, that you could find it in your heart to forgive me…if you wish to go I shall not argue, but –"

"Oh, you stupid, stupid beast," Bella cried, and kissed the palm of his hand. "That wasn't you, it wasn't you at all, it was the gold fever talking. I only wish you could forgive me, for I did betray you, only I couldn't see another way, and I didn't want to hurt you, not a bit."

He stroked her cheek, moving upwards to twirl the short lock of hair around his finger. His face, those beautiful cerulean eyes, so full of pain and regret. "How I have hurt you…" he whispered. "A lesser creature would have never looked me in the face, and yet here you are, asking me for forgiveness. You did me no wrong, ghivashel, and caused me no pain that I did not cause myself."

She knelt down next to his bed and rested her forehead on the mattress. He plunged his fingers deep into the mass of hair, loosening pins and letting loose curls tumble around her face. "Why didn't you want me to come?" Bella asked, her voice muffled. "I thought you never wanted to see me again."

"So ashamed…" Thorin murmured, "so fearful that I would look into your eyes and see nothing but bitterness and hatred…"

"Never," Bella swore, and kissed him firmly on the wrist, "never, never, never."

He murmured something in Khuzdul, then said, "Come, lay next to me, my burglar—I shall not sleep without knowing you are safe in my arms."

She curled next to him, taking care not to rest on his injuries, leaning her head on his shoulder. A laugh burbled from her throat and he stroked the nape of her neck. "This is the second time I've lain next to you and cried while you're injured," Bella pointed out.

"And I am sure it will not be the last," Thorin said quietly.

There was still much to discuss, much to apologize for. Things had to be talked about and planned, forgiveness had to be earned, but for the moment, both were content to simply stay still in the dark, breathing and thinking of the things to come.

So completes this story. Could have gone on longer, but I'm content with where it is. -fyrelark