✓GLITTER AND GOLD⁰ ━ the hobbit

fifteen.

i call us part dread, part song,
part story, part wrong.

we built our castles in each other
out of splinted spine and blood

we met in grief
and were held together by its mud.

took crowns made of bones,
placed them on each other's heads.

we loved each other with
fragments of ourselves that were dead.

this is why we couldn't rely
on the promises that we spoke

perhaps in a different time,
i would have named us hope

perhaps in a different universe,
we would not meet so battleworn

and i would call us forgiveness,
and not remember us as war.

—— Nikita Gill, "I Named Us Grief"

15 | I NAMED US GRIEF

Somebody wise once told me that there are seven stages in a common grief cycle.

The first, shock, comes quickly - well, for me, anyway. My body froze up, paralysed. My eyes unable to tears themselves away from his body, while my head spun and eyes teared. My body became numb for hours as I stared in silence at the world, and my body felt as if it were floating, separate from the rest of me.

Denial is the second stage, and the most humiliating. As usual, I tried to pretend I was fine, which worked well for a few minutes. At least, until Legolas became sick of watching me fake it, and took me upstairs where he could privately scream at me about how I was acting unhealthily. A fair assessment, but a cruel one.

The third stage was my least favourite, the guilt. It was easy to feel guilty about Thorin's death, because, it was, partially, my fault. I did kill him, but I could've saved him. I could have helped him. I could've been there with him when he died. I think the worst part about my guilt was that there was so much unsaid between Thorin and I. We never really talked through our problems, so I was unable to move on without forgiving him, and being forgiven by him.  His funeral was nasty, as j sag by his body for hours, talking to him. It helped, though, to rid myself of the guilt. To pretend that he could hear me, wherever he is. Gandalf yells me that the guilt will never leave. Perhaps that is true but I can manage it.

Anger was an embarrassing stage. I grew angry at Gandalf, shouting, asking him why he couldn't save Thorin. I felt even more guilty after that, after having to remind myself that I wasn't the only one who was grieving. I shouldn't be so selfish. Gandalf forgave me easily though, very understanding. We had been putting off our conversation for days, so I suppose he was also feeling a little guilty about everything.

The lonely stage never happened. Perhaps because Legolas knew what I would be going through, he stayed with me, making sure I never fell into that hole of dark thoughts, the unending negativity, the feeling of alone-ness. I was extremely grateful for the elf prince then, as he supported me.

And now I've begun my sixth stage of grief, rebuilding my life, or what was left of it. Making my own plans for the future, refusing to live in the past. Yes, we lost people. My best friend. Their king. But we survived, and I have to make sure that I do something good with the life I have left. Perhaps I don't deserve to live, but I did, and I won't let my life fall apart around me, when I can save myself from drowning like this.

Legolas' first, and only farewell was to his father, Thranduil. I don't know what was said between them, and I don't wish to know. It is no concern of mine. But when Legolas returned from his farewell, he was different somehow. Older, perhaps. Maybe he finally realised that Tauriel would never love him back, and moved on. Accepted it. Or maybe Thranduil told him something, that made him move to the seventh stage of grief, acceptance. He seemed to have been stuck at the sixth for years, so I'm glad he made it.

I didn't question it, when he asked me if I wanted to accompany him to the Dunedain, to meet Strider. I was curious, yes, but I trusted his judgement, and I think that he now trusts mine. He respects me, and I him, and with that I think we could become great friends.

My farewells were a few more. My first was to Bard, the last in a long string of promises that I'd broken these past few weeks. "I'm sorry," I told him, embarrassed to go back on my word, yet again.

He didn't even chastise me, taking one look at me before embracing me in a hug, as did his children. Sigrid even handed me my hairpin back, matured so much over the last few weeks. I was sad to see them go, but I know that the people of Laketown are in good hands. Bard will take care of them, and I hope their new life is more fulfilling than their old.

I said farewell to the dwarves carefully, hugging each one of them them tightly, as we bade each other goodbye. They will rule, in Moria, the Iron Hills, and in Erebor, and I hope to see them again. Perhaps I will, on day.

Saying goodbye to Bilbo was harder. "You're the best man I ever met," I told him, crying. My tears seemed limitless these past few weeks, impressively. "The best hobbit, too."

Bilbo seemed almost in tears himself as he hugged me, and telling me what he had told all the dwarves in turn, that Bag End would always be there for them. "I hope to see you again, Raelyn," he said, sincere. "You're a good woman."

I can't help but smile, the praise coming from him meaning so much more. "If you really believe so,"

"I do." He smiles, as we bid each other farewell. "And remember, if you ever need anything, I'm here. Anything, truly."

The last goodbye I made was bittersweet, and not permanent. It was impossible to say goodbye to Gandalf forever, he would always keeping popping up.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself. "You never knew your true parents, my dear," he tells me gently, concern flashing. "Your power must come from some ancient elvish line- which, I'm not sure. But I am certain that you more elf than half, but I just don't know how much."

I nod, reminding myself to keep searching for my family while I travel with Legolas. "I don't care about that," I tell Gandalf, earnest. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

He nods. "Goodbye, then."

We hug, and part ways, but I know we'll see him again. And I've promised to write him letters, written accounts of my travels. I don't know how he'll receive them, but I'll find a way, somehow.

And with both our farewells finished, Legolas and I move across the Earth on horseback, ready for our next adventure, whatever that may be.

(sequel on my profile ! It's called Fire & Fate, takes place during lotr. Just the Epilogue to go)