He wondered whether home was a thing that happened to a place after a while...*
...or if it was something that you found in the end, if you simply walked and waited and willed it long enough.*
Word Count: 1723
Novel Progress: Chapter 25 (finished) and Chapter 26 (begun). An Unexpected Journey portion finished \o/
Current Emotion: Goddammnit I Want To Sleep
“Erebor,” Gandalf names it. “The Lonely Mountain. That, Bilbo, is the last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.”
Thorin is more succinct. “Our home.” He smiles as he gazes at the mountain and stands a little taller. “Fili, Kili,” he calls, turning to look for his nephews amongst the company, and gesturing them towards him. The young dwarves press close together as Thorin throws an arm over both their shoulders, Fili in the middle, and Thorin’s fingers curl into the neck of Kili’s coat. “That,” he tells them, “is your home.” He watches their faces as they take the mountain in, as if he could take all the love and awe and yearning for the call of home that sings in his chest and will it into theirs.
Grace turns back to look again on the mountain. So that is where the company’s journey leads, she muses. Hers too, if they will have her that far, and she trusts Thorin enough to know that they will. Looking at the land between them and the Lonely Mountain, she sees that there does not seem to be much between them and the mountain that is not wilderness. There are no towns or villages that she can see, nor any paths cutting through the green. There are only the flat plains just before then, dark endless forest, and beyond that, it is hard to see, but perhaps there is the silver glint of a river.
It looks very, very far away.
56645 / 50000 words. 113% done!
* Neil Gaiman, American Gods
Word Count: 1723
Novel Progress: Chapter 25 (finished) and Chapter 26 (begun). An Unexpected Journey portion finished \o/
Current Emotion: Goddammnit I Want To Sleep
“Erebor,” Gandalf names it. “The Lonely Mountain. That, Bilbo, is the last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.”
Thorin is more succinct. “Our home.” He smiles as he gazes at the mountain and stands a little taller. “Fili, Kili,” he calls, turning to look for his nephews amongst the company, and gesturing them towards him. The young dwarves press close together as Thorin throws an arm over both their shoulders, Fili in the middle, and Thorin’s fingers curl into the neck of Kili’s coat. “That,” he tells them, “is your home.” He watches their faces as they take the mountain in, as if he could take all the love and awe and yearning for the call of home that sings in his chest and will it into theirs.
Grace turns back to look again on the mountain. So that is where the company’s journey leads, she muses. Hers too, if they will have her that far, and she trusts Thorin enough to know that they will. Looking at the land between them and the Lonely Mountain, she sees that there does not seem to be much between them and the mountain that is not wilderness. There are no towns or villages that she can see, nor any paths cutting through the green. There are only the flat plains just before then, dark endless forest, and beyond that, it is hard to see, but perhaps there is the silver glint of a river.
It looks very, very far away.
56645 / 50000 words. 113% done!
* Neil Gaiman, American Gods