Ailith || Thorin Oakenshield

Prologue

"As for me, I go on. Alone now. Forever alone."
—Clarice Lispector | 'Obsession'

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I was once the princess of a people long forgotten. Settled just off the coast of the Great Sea Belegaer and rightward of the Great River Anduin, we lived deep in the valleys of Avelon and were called the Valanai. We were a noble people — revered for our peaceful disposition and prosperous trade. Often our young could be found gallivanting through the fields of crop and wildflowers while our elders spent their days relaying their histories in tomes we later stored in our great library. Those who were neither farmed and harvested during the day, and those who were strongest trained in defense during the night.

My father and mother were our King and Queen. Lord Tavril the Valiant and Lady Talia the Radiant they were titled, and how fitting their titles proved indeed. My father was tall, dark-haired, and bore the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders as if it were no heavier than the tunic on his back. Meanwhile, my mother — light-eyed and fair-haired as she was — seemed to only grow more and more entrancing with each year she aged. They met when they were young, my father a prince and my mother a simple farming girl, and after three decades of simple kinship, they found a Kindred in one another that neither Valanai nor their families expected. After four years of courting they eventually married. Then eleven months after the night of their binding, my mother Talia gave birth to a tiny Valanai foretold in prophecy.

And if it were not made clear enough already, that tiny Valanai was me.

My mother named me Ailith and called me the light of her life. Valanai could only bear one child you see, and so my mother and father doted on me as if I were a miracle gifted to them by the Valar themselves. Despite their affections however, I was not spoiled and instead of succumbing to a princess's greed, I grew to live up to my namesake. As it was, the name Ailith was said to have meant 'seasoned warrior' and while in training I became just so, I hoped to one day prove myself further in true battle. I dreamt of becoming the fiercest warrior my people had ever seen and though I came close, no small amount of success could ever surmount to the failure that befell me one late eve in Autumn.

My large home in the valley of Evelon was sieged under light of the Harvest Moon. I was tucked under the covers of my bed, sleeping peacefully after the Great Harvest wherein we reaped our fields of crop and fruitage to store for the Winter yet to come. It had been a restless day — one that weighed the fabric of my dress heavy with sweat and turned whatever softness was left of my hands into calloused skin and blistered flesh. My head had hit my pillow just as a heavy stone does the surface of a river and I sunk deep into slumber in much the same way said stone sinks heavily to the bottom of the riverbed. Dreams plagued me soon after and it was in those dreams that I heard the first sounds of terror. Screams and more screams, then the crashing of heavy wood and the hissing of thatched roof caught by flame. I awoke to my mother's tear-stained face as she urged me to run, but seeing as I was a warrior, my stubborn nature proved a formidable excuse and so I ignored her pleas to seek safety. Instead, I scrambled for my sword and shield, pressed a brief kiss to my mother's head, then ran into the fray in naught but my thin nightdress for cover. I struck down every opposing figure that stood in my way while the desperate cries of my people spurred me on and, for what felt like hours yet in reality was only minutes, I fought like I never had before.

The mothers and their children were the first to die, and our elders came the second. Next were our farmers and our traders, then our warriors-in-training after them. Eventually the army of bloodthirsty Orcs that raided our lands killed off our seasoned fighters and what was left of our nobility, and after came the time for my Father. I watched as their leader beheaded him right before my very eyes and screamed as another gutted my Mother. They then turned to me at the sound of my cries and took in my sorry state with cruel satisfaction alighting their faces, and next they proceeded to mock me as I stood alone amidst the fire and the rubble and the blood of my former home. I tried to fight them — tried to hold out hope that I could avenge my family and friends and neighbors if only I so grew the strength. In the end I was not strong enough though, and so as Fate deemed it to happen, all the Valanai were slaughtered but one.

I was left alive, battered and wounded to the point of near fatality, yet spared under the pretense of living out the rest of my long life in misery. "This is your penance," their leader spat at me in his garbled Orkish tongue as he held me by the scalp of my head. "This is your castigation." And no matter how pitifully I wished for it otherwise, my life was not that day taken. Instead I was left alone, cursed to bear the blood of my fallen people and bury their bodies one by one. I was ill-fated to live out my eternity just as the Orc leader wished it to be, and so my name as once Ailith the Valorous became a title lost amidst stories of unending fire and unimaginable tragedy — as were the Valanai and my homeland. We became lost by almost all, forgotten by even more until, eventually, I forgot too. No longer could I remember my once joyous and peaceful upbringing.

Since then a blurred recollection of my past had taken its place.

For centuries after that fateful night I wandered in solitude. In fact, as the years went by, I could scarcely remember a time when I wasn't. Something about solitude simply seemed to breed aversion and I quickly grew to relish in the quiet that paired well with its hand. I became one with the silence — its adversary and its friend. I welcomed its bleakness with open arms and, eventually, it became my closest companion.

The parts of my life I remembered from before became shrouded in a haze of pain. Perhaps my mind opted to blur the details in hopes to make the memories seem less agonizing, yet no matter how eloquently I forgot the color of my mother's light eyes and my father's dark hair, the thought of them still brought about an ache somewhere deep in my chest. I knew I had a family and knew I came from a home full of love and warmth. Yet I also knew my family was gone now, and I kept a vial of ashes from my home that long since burnt to the ground on a chain around my neck. All that was left of my past became me; and I, the daughter of what was once both brilliant hope and light, was now simply a daughter of smoke and bone. I had become something lesser, something forgotten, and as I traveled aimlessly through every hill and valley spanning the entirety of Middle Earth, I vowed not to let another become the same.

Because I became the Wanderess, the girl nameless who did not stay nor speak. I became the protector of all who could not protect themselves and the shadow that shielded in the night. Most of all though, I became the lost Princess of the Valanai that no one dared believe still lived.

And slowly, in time, I became the Wanderess who remembered not even her own fate she was destined to one day fulfill.

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( NOTE: )

— Valanai is pronounced:
'val + uh + nye'
— Ailith is pronounced:
'ay + lith'

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( AUTHOR'S NOTE )

Well there you have it everyone! I've always wanted to write a Thorin Oakenshield fanfiction seeing as I'm absolutely obsessed with both the book and the movies as well as LOTR (who isn't, am I right?). But anyway, I finally found the perfect idea for the perfect character and I couldn't be more excited to share her with you! Unlike Bailey in BTPB, Ailith is going to be a very strong, very fierce character and I suspect some of you may even dislike her at first! Despite this, I hope you all enjoyed the prologue and are excited for what's to come! So thankful for your support! Couldn't do it without you!

—Vanillarain13

P. S. — ( If you get a chance, let me know what you think in the comments below!)

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[ © -Vanillarain13 ]