The sparse torchlight cast long shadows down the hall, making her shiver.
She imagined sinister faces, amongst the darkened corners.
Her steps felt heavy, and the weight around her neck seemed to grow, the harsh whispers making her head throb painfully.
She wanted to turn around, to return to her bed, and hide beneath the covers, like she had done as a faunt whenever a storm had gotten too loud, the thunder making her jump in fear.
She wanted to banish the nightmares away, thrust the images from her mind, refuse to accept what was happening.
But she knew that it could not be done.
She could not ignore this any longer. She could not deny the truth. If she did…
Aule if she ignored this evil any longer, how might it hurt those she loved?
Thorin’s face appeared in her mind’s eye.
The frustration he felt managing the mountain, the discord with the other delegates concerning HER presence at his side, the reconstruction, settling dealings with the elves, and Bard’s men.
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