14.
The Moment

The Company's time in Rivendell was one of relaxation. Of course, they did have a quest to complete and a limited amount of time to do so, but inside of the Elven city, inside of Rivendell, time seemed to slow down around them. It felt like they had all the time in the world.

Aninth, for one was grateful for this. Not only did it give her time to heal, but time to relax and unwind. It had been a very long time since she'd had a place where she didn't have to worry about moving, about scavenging for money, food, other necessities. It had been a long time since she'd had a place where she was accepted and welcomed. Where she had connections.

It made her think of her parents often. She had been young when they passed, and it had been a long time since then. Before they had died was the last time that Aninth had a home, a place where she belonged. A family. Friends. Since losing not only her parents but her entire people, she'd had only one constant companion. Her dragon. Ryvniss. And while he was a great companion and friend, it did get lonely with only the two of them.

One afternoon while wandering around Rivendell by herself, Aninth found a small stone bridge, secluded near a small fountain and many trees. It crossed the small break in the rock beneath her feet, too big to step across, and just barely big enough to make the jump across. From where she stood, Aninth could see Rivendell from an angle that was almost behind, but also the side.

Settling down on the bridge with her legs hanging over the side, Aninth breathed in the clean air, letting her eyes drift closed as she let the magic in the air wash over her. Her father had told her so many stories of Rivendell and the Elves... there had been a time when he could do nothing but tell stories. Somehow, it was both one of the best times of Aninth's life and the worst. Her father's stories were always her favourite thing, but the paleness of his face despite the heat that radiated off of him... Seeing Khalne, her father's companion, curled up at the foot of the bed, looking just as sick... Those were the memories that haunted her.

"Where is your companion?" a deep voice questioned.

"He is hunting," she answered without looking. She knew who it was. "We do not spend every moment together, though you might think otherwise."

There was a scoff. The sound of dirt, twigs and leaves crunching under a heavy foot. Aninth turned and saw Thorin standing a few feet from the edge of the bridge, looking around with uncertainty. A smile spread across her face.

"He is not nearby," Aninth said, "he cannot find the food he needs within Rivendell. Lord Elrond was not lying when he said that creatures do not stray near here often."

"I figured you could not bear to be apart," Thorin snarled.

"If my companion needs sustenance, I cannot deny him," Aninth answered. Thorin scoffed and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn away. "You knew my mother, did you know that?"

There was a pause. "I did not."

"Anhro," Aninth said, rolling the R as her father and grandmother used to, and the way her mother used to hate. "She was good friends with your father. Helped your father teach you how to use a sword. It was the same technique she used to teach me. She was always so proud of that. The great Dwarf Prince Thorin, who she had helped teach to use a sword."

"I never knew that," Thorin said, "but I did know Anhro. My father considered her a very close friend."

"She used to joke, mostly to tease my father, that if she hadn't met him, if they hadn't happened to meet how they did, she would have married your father... Imagine that," Aninth said with a laugh, "we could have been siblings, or I may not even exist."

"My mother beat her to that," Thorin said, his voice closer, "but he also made that joke to her. My brother, sister and I thought it was funny, but my mother did not."

"They were made to be friends," Aninth said, "one might say destined for it. But it seems they both had their hearts stolen by another."

"I never met Anhro's husband, did he live in Erebor, too?" Thorin asked.

Aninth shook her head, "no, my father, Alio, he lived in the Shire. My parents were from the two different factions my people once belonged. They lived apart for most of their courtship and marriage, but it worked for them... It always worked. You never would have met him, my father didn't like travel. The only time that he traveled very far was when they got married."

"Your parents don't seem very alike," Thorin said.

"No. They were very different people. But that's why they worked so well together," Aninth said with a smile. She turned to look at Thorin, who was now standing next to her on the bridge, then turned her gaze to the mountains in the distance. "My mother used to say that she didn't know that my father was the one for her at first, it felt right, being with him, but then there was this moment..."

"Moment?" Thorin asked.

"Yeah, just one moment. And she just looked over at him, and maybe he wasn't doing anything particularly spectacular, but... she would see him, so clearly, so perfectly imperfect and flawlessly flawed and she knew. That was him, her soulmate, her One," Aninth said, tears sparkling in her eyes.

She didn't look over as Thorin sat down next to her. "My father said the same thing about my mother. Told me one day I would have my own moment."

"That's where she got it, from the Dwarves. My father had a different way of seeing it, but he'd grown up around Hobbits. My mother probably told me the same stories your father told you." Aninth looked over at Thorin. "You don't know much about my people, do you? Despite living among them."

"I had other things to learn about," Thorin explained.

"Then I think it is time for you to get a lesson, Thorin Oakenshield. And I would gladly be your teacher." Aninth pulled her legs up and crossed them in front of her. "My people, as I said, lived in two factions. One lived amongst the Hobbits, mostly in the Shire. That's where my father lived. The other faction lived amongst Dwarves, mainly those in Erebor, but smaller groups lived within the other mines."

Aninth paused for a moment, expecting some kind of comment. None came. A smile pulled at her lips. She should have known that Thorin would not be as eager a listener as Ygritte was.

"Despite living apart, the two factions had all the same cultural rituals. The Bonding Ritual, the Dragon Trial, the Choosing Ceremony... All key parts of who we were as a people. I myself never went through the Choosing Ceremony, as my Dragon had already chosen me by the time I was of age for the ceremony. Ryvniss was the child of my parents' companions, as I am the child of my parents. Ryvniss chose me from a young age. We went through the Bonding Ritual earlier than most."

Aninth looked over at Thorin, he had a conflicted look on his face. Whether that meant he didn't know what he was feeling or didn't like what he was feeling or was changing between different feelings, she did not know. He met her eyes and they seemed to calm.

"Do you remember my mother's titles?" she asked.

"I..." Thorin paused for a moment, "I remember one of them. Destroyer of Men?"

"Yes," Aninth agreed with a laugh, "I inherited that one from her. Men learned very quickly that she wasn't to be underestimated. She had two other titles, do you remember them?"

He took a moment to think. "I do not."

"So, three titles in total. The Strong Minded, Destroyer of Men, and Protector of the Weak. Very telling, her titles," Aninth said, turning away from him then.

"I never understood why you all had so many titles. Seemed needlessly complicated," Thorin said.

"Yeah," Aninth agreed with a laugh, "I guess it was. But it was who we were, a part of our identity... There was a time when I agreed with you. Picking my titles always seemed like such a big responsibility, those were for life, they were forever. What if I picked the wrong one? What if I picked something that I thought was who I was but I changed?"

"You picked your own titles?" Thorin asked, surprised.

"Mhm," Aninth confirmed, nodding, "with help from our families. We picked our companion's titles as well. Ryv was always stubborn, and that was the first title I gave him. And, of course, he has dark scales so that seemed like a good title. He's also very quick so The Swift was an easy one. But when it came to myself, the only one I chose before the illness killed my people was Protector of Creatures."

Thorin was silent. She didn't look over at him, just kept her eyes ahead as they turned misty. Thinking about that illness made tears spring up in her eyes immediately. She closed her eyes and let her head fall, pushing back the tears. Now was not the time.

"I chose to take on my mother's title as she was dying. I told her that I was going to take on Destroyer of Men and even though she was so weak, she smiled so big. She just looked so proud and happy and..." A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. "It was the happiest I'd seen her since my father died. I've always been so proud that I was able to make her that happy before she died."

Once again, Thorin didn't say anything. She didn't blame him, what did you say to that? Maybe someone knew, but there was no doubt in Aninth's mind that Thorin was not one of those people. He seemed very closed off from most of his emotions. After all he'd been through, that was expected. She had done the same thing, the only thing that made her vulnerable anymore was talking about the thing that had caused her to close herself off.

And yet there she was, opening up and being vulnerable to probably the most closed off person in the group.

"Champion of Dragons is my final title," Aninth said, shaking out of her thoughts, "and I chose that one because I was the last Dragonkin. I was their champion, the final line before they're gone. That one was the easiest to decide upon..."

"I never knew what took your people," Thorin said, his voice low and hesitant. Pushing through his own walls.

"No one really does..." Aninth admitted. She paused and took a deep breath. "It came so fast, so quick and hit so hard that by the time someone realized they were sick, it was too late to make the journey to see someone who could perhaps figure it out. The fever was the worst part. My people, we... we had a strong tolerance for heat, but I could barely stand to touch my father's skin at the height of his fever. It was awful to witness."

"Sound horrible," Thorin said.

A bitter laugh fell from Aninth's lips before she could stop it and she felt tears behind her eyes so she tipped her head back to stop them. Horrible. One word to sum up everything she had stomped down for years. One word described everything she carried with her wherever she went. How was it possible that such a simple word could be all these things at once. She looked down. It was just eight letters.

"Horrible, yeah... That's one way to put it," Aninth said.

A tear fell down her cheek and she turned her eyes up again. God, how stupid was it to cry right now? In front of the one person she needed to hold herself together in front of the most. How was she supposed to prove that she was strong, resilient and not at all weak when she broke down at the simple thought of her people? This was not the picture of strength that she was trying to portray.

There was a hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at Thorin. He reached forward and wiped the tear away. It was so soft... the moment, the look in his eyes, his movement. Without further prompting, the emotions she had been keeping bottled up burst out with the tears and Aninth collapsed. Strong arms wrapped around her and held her as she cried.