#firelight valin

[roninreverie]

Firelights

[roninreverie]

Okay fandom, don't know if it's been theorized yet, but what if Magpie is Sky's sister?

Okay because I apparently have no self control, I’m just going to compile a study of all of the appearances of the cool firelight lady with the bird mask because why not

So we first see her among the firelights with Ekko during the platform fight at the end of episode 6 (pretty sure she isn’t in the episode 4 firelight fight because most of them end up dead rip)

Jinx knocks her off her glider, so now she’s on the platform with the others and does the most incredible vertical kick that knocks poor unsuspecting Caitlyn out (a gif of that moment would be crazy cool! ps sorry Caitlyn)

So, recognises the gemstone’s value, and sets off the smoke to cover her as she takes Caitlyn

Then she’s in the firelight intro, looking all badass, but also with her spray paint cans, which are important because she makes them look badass, but also:

The next time we see here is here, at Ekko’s mural where she’s painting up the firelight girl who died in episode 4

And finally, she’s here in the scene where Ekko brings Heimerdinger back to their sanctuary in episode 9

So, those were all the scenes I could find her in! She’s a background character, but very pivotal and very cool!

[thetimelesscycle]

The Hobbit Fanfiction: The Heart of Erebor - Chapter 56

Summary: ‘He could stand the wild light in his uncle’s gaze. He withstood the crazed glint that entered the ravenous stares of his companions. He endured seeing the dragon’s greed take them all. But when that madness seeped also into the eyes of his own beloved brother, he knew something had to be done. He just wasn’t expecting it to be this.’-The gold sickness of Erebor claims one more, and the path of destiny is irrevocably changed.

Inspired by the following quote from ‘The Hobbit’: “So grim had Thorin become, that even if they had wished, the others would not have dared to find fault with him; but indeed most of them seemed to share his mind-except perhaps old fat Bombur and Fili and Kili.”

A/N: Soooo... This chapter... was not supposed to be what it has become. There was going to be a lot more plot advancement and more characters involved and that just, sort of, didn't happen. In the process of being written (and rewritten, and rewritten AGAIN, and rewritten some MORE) this firmly became Dis' chapter, a chance for her to tell her side of the tragedies of the past in the most heartbreaking way possible. It's not really the half and half recipe I had in mind, but it's a chapter, it's written, and right now I'm going to settle for being happy with that and hope that you are too.

Read and enjoy, TTC

/THE HEART OF EREBOR\

ACT V

-The King Beneath the Mountain-

Chapter 56

The Farewell

Dís had seen the nightmare world conjured by Valin's venom once before. The darkness that had held Kíli in its grasp, a malignant evil that meant only harm. She had witnessed the way it took her youngest' deepest fears, past and present, and conjured them anew, twisting and deforming the truth into a dreadful reality filled with only death and pain and destruction. She had sat at her son's bedside as he battled to free himself from that realm of lies. So when the shadows descended, when the cold took hold, she braced herself to fight her own battle against whatever devilry Valin's handiwork could conjure...

"You'll freeze if you stand over there. Come sit by the fire."

...only to find she was not prepared at all.

Her blood ran cold, and she dared not turn, keeping her back to the glow emanating from the space behind her. From the fire she could hear crackling away, with the occasional indignant hiss as it encountered the wet lumber hidden amongst the dry. Ahead of her, darkness still reigned supreme, but it was the soft shadow of nightfall, not the ominous abyss of a presence more dire.

"We'll need to set some more snares tomorrow," her companion continued conversationally, untroubled by her silence. "If our catch is as good as it has been these past few days we might be able to set aside some money for something other than supper."

It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. She knew that, beyond any and all doubt. That didn't stop her heart from thundering in her chest, nor still the familiar name lingering as a whisper on her lips.

"Thorin won't approve, of course, or he'll pretend he doesn't, and scowl and brood all the more just to prove a point."

"You shouldn't antagonise him so," the answer escaped her before she had time to check it, a conversation rehearsed and repeated. "He carries enough cares as it is."

"It does no harm to remind him food and shelter are not the only necessities our people require, even if they are the foremost. Besides, if he's storming about looking for me he's not wearing himself ragged at an anvil, is he? A benefit to both sides, I should think."

She snorted softly, amused. "You only say that because he cannot stay cross with you for more than a few moments."

"Ah, but that, dear sister, is because he knows I am right."

The temptation to turn around was overwhelming, to see again the soft smile that would accompany those words, his eyes flashing between her face and the piece of wood slowly taking shape in his hands. He was always carving something, whenever they had a still moment and he could scavenge a leftover morsel fit for the task. Toys for the children, mugs, plates, bows, trinkets to sell at the local markets. The crown he never seemed satisfied with and she knew was meant for Thorin, a symbol of the choice their people had all made in their hearts long ago, even if Thror still bore the mantle of King.

A pity, then, that he had never had the chance to present it.

Because that was the truth, not whatever this was. No matter how much she might have wished otherwise. No matter how many times she had turned looking for a presence that no longer lingered at her shoulder. No matter how many shadows she had spun to stare at only to realise her mind was playing tricks on her once more. That was all this was, another cruel trick, and yet...

Was this not what she had begged for, once? Just one more night. One more chance to say all she wanted to say. She had grieved, she had moved on, but the memories remained, and she had never forgotten. Would it be so wrong to dwell in those memories a while, knowing it was only an illusion? To give herself a chance to say a proper farewell? What harm could there be when she knew it wasn't real?

Some instinct, slumbering at the back of her mind, stirred and cried warning. A sad, muted thing that barely scraped along the edge of her softening thoughts. She paid it no heed, tension bleeding from her shoulders, the battle she had readied herself for never having arrived. There was nothing out there in the calm night to harm her, the Watch would see to that, and she felt no fear as she turned to put her back to the darkness, walking towards the fire's warmth.

Frerin glanced up at her as she approached, a brief look before he returned his attention to his latest creation, sitting amidst a pile of wood-shavings and haphazardly organised tools. How many times had they sat like this, she wondered, waiting for Thorin to return for the night? Neither of them would retire until he did, no matter how weary the day's labour had left them. They would pass the time exchanging stories of the past, or plans for their future, and by the time Thrain's eldest son appeared in their midst they would always have half a dozen ideas to ply him with, dragging his thoughts away from the trials of the present to focus upon better things to come.

"I've missed this," she said aloud, though she did not know why. How could one miss what had been a daily routine since she was still a child? "I've missed you."

Frerin's smile was soft and kind and as gentle as she remembered - knew - it to be. "There is no need for that anymore, Dís."

"No," she agreed slowly, and wondered again at her hesitation. "Is that a dragon?" It was rough, but she was starting to recognise the lines taking shape in his hands. The silhouette had haunted her dreams often enough since Erebor fell. "Haven't we seen enough of those?"

He paused at her bitter utterance, glancing at her with a pensive look he normally reserved for Thorin's darker moods.

"Just because something is terrible," he said slowly, firmly. "Does not mean there is no beauty in it. I will finish this and find some little scamp to gift it to. No doubt it will burn down a few villages along the way, but eventually it will face a champion, be challenged, overcome, and defeated. There will be a celebration, a victory parade, and then the hero shall gallantly be on his way to save the next kingdom in dire need."

Dís cast the lump of wood in his hands a doubtful glance. "It's only a toy, Frerin."

"To you, perhaps." He gave her a knowing grin. "To them it is an adventure."

She harrumphed disapprovingly. "You're going to fill their heads with foolish ideas."

"I have plenty to spare," he replied, unabashed. "Which in particular do you mean?"

"You'll have them convinced they can take on a dragon."

"Well, maybe they can. Or will be able to. I don't believe this exile will last forever, Dís. Even if it takes a thousand years to outwait that old lizard, we'll go home one day."

"Go home?" she whispered, staring into the firelight and watching a mountain burn. Watching it run red with the blood of her kinsmen, her mother, her friends, her children. "No!"

Frerin glanced up at her, startled by the shift in her tone, and frowned. "Dís?"

The pain was real. It gripped her entire body. Sharper still was the shaft of grief that pierced her chest. The veil of deceit fell away, the lie she wanted so badly to believe, and she spoke the truth aloud.

"You'll never go home, Frerin."

The campfire roared in front of her eyes, and for a moment her brother's face changed in the shadows it cast, terror etched across his bloodied features. That was merely an illusion as well, for there had been no recognisable expression left to see when the orcs were done.

"You never… You never see Ered Luin. Or meet Nali. Or hold your nephews." She drew in a shuddering breath, listing the shared memories of which they had both been bereft. "The champion doesn't overthrow the dragon in your story, Frerin. This… this is a lie."

"Perhaps, sister." Unmoved by her declaration, he shrugged. "But it is a good lie. What is wrong with that?"

"Everything." She shook her head, rising and backing away from the heat of the flames. "I cannot bring you back. It is fruitless to pretend otherwise. This is… this is just a trap meant to ensnare me, and I won't submit to it."

"A trap?" He tilted his head in question, and her certainty, solid as stone a moment before, wavered. "What do you mean by that?"

"That you…" The fog was descending again. The complacency. The acceptance. "You're not… This isn't…"

She raised a hand to her head, struggling to put order to her thoughts, to remember why she shouldn't…

"Dís." A hand closed about her forearm, firm enough to be painful, and she opened her eyes briefly to scowl at Thorin. "Dís, stay with me."

"I am with you," she replied, wondering why her own voice sounded so distant. Why Thorin had appeared to make such a demand only to vanish a moment later. Really, he might at least have sat down for a bite to eat.

"Oh dear. She's wearing that fearsome Durin scowl again, Fí. What do you suppose we've done this time?"

Her eyes snapped open wide, a noise escaping her that was both joy and grief as her eyes drank in the sight of one of her most precious memories brought to life. There was Fíli, not yet old enough to walk on his own or make conversation beyond inane babble, perched upon his father's knee making wild grabs for Nali's unbraided locks. Untroubled by his son's antics, Nali chose instead to mark Dís' return with a wholly absurd observation about her face.

Really, her scowl wasn't that bad.

"You spoke with Thorin, then?" Ignoring her disdainful glance, Nali continued to cheerfully bounce Fíli on his lap as Dís turned to hang up her cloak. "What did he say?"

"The usual nonsense." Freeing herself from the last of her travel raiment, Dís moved across to take the seat opposite Nali's own, holding her arms out as he offered her their giggling bairn. "I swear, if I hear him mention Erebor one more time…"

"He means well," Nali offered, his eyes never leaving his son. "He just wants to give his people a certain future again."

"Perhaps he does," she conceded. "But bringing up what we once had every time we encounter the slightest hindrance is not helping anyone. Erebor is lost to us, it is past time he accepted that."

"It was home, Dís." Wrenching his gaze away from their child at last, Nali looked her dead in the eye as he reproached her. "It is not so easy."

"This is home now." A real home. A safe home. Somewhere she could raise her child without fear of the dangers he might encounter. Without Erebor casting its long shadow over all their lives. They were free of it now, and she was glad. She only wished that Thorin could make his peace with their change of fortune, instead of drifting along on the ever-deceptive tide of might-have-beens. "A good home." That earned her a proud smile from Nali, and she dropped her gaze to Fíli, who was currently doing his best to snare one of the tassels on her tunic in his small hands. "Worthy of any little Durin princeling."

"Maybe that will convince your brother," Nali said, eyes twinkling as he moved to crouch before her, drawing Fíli's attention back to his father's enticing locks. "When you raise an heir more than worthy of the Durin name in such humble surrounds."

"When we raise," she corrected him with a light tap on the head. "Do not think you are getting out of your share of the work."

"I wouldn't dream of it, milady," he grinned. "We know better, don't we, Fí?"

His answer was an indecipherable gurgle and a sharp tug on his hair, but Nali took it as agreement nonetheless, murmuring his own soft nonsense in return. Dís allowed the noise to wash over her, relaxing into her chair as the tension bled from her shoulders. Nali was right, she decided. They would find a way to convince Thorin that Durin's Folk did not need Erebor to survive. They would build new lives here in Ered Luin, untainted by the wealth that had simultaneously blessed and cursed the royal line. They would raise their son well, and make sure he never knew the suffering that had tainted their own youth.

Yes, they would be happy here. Safe. She did not know why anyone would ever want to leave.

~The Heart of Erebor

Before their run in with the three charming trolls who had spent half the night discussing in what manner their 'guests' should be prepared for supper, Fíli and Kíli had nearly drowned chasing a spooked pack pony into a swollen river. They had been rescued, along with the pony, wet and cold and chagrined, and Fíli had decided then and there that he and flooded rivers would not soon meet again.

That resolve had lasted only as long as it had taken Bilbo to shove thirteen dwarves into thirteen barrels and send them careening off down a river that was so full of rocks and small falls it was a wonder Laketown ever received its barrels intact. He'd emerged at the end of that particular escapade battered and bruised and with a newfound hatred for the smell of apples to go along with his growing dislike for waterways in general.

Neither experience had been particularly pleasant, but he would have gladly endured them both a second time to avoid the deadly force now engulfing him.

The sheer weight of the impact was horrific. He felt like he'd been crushed between a Stone Giant and a mountain once again, only this time there was no sanctuary of space to separate the one from the other. He had no sense of direction, no way of knowing up from down, his world transformed into a rushing, relentless flood. If he didn't drown he would be crushed to death, and there was nothing he could do to save himself. Nothing he could do to save anyone.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind then his head broke the surface. He drew in a desperate inhale, fearing he would be pulled under again at any moment. He could still feel the water tugging at him, a vicious force of nature intent on hurling him headlong into the nearest stone wall, but he wasn't moving with the current. It took him a moment to realise why, his mind slow to grasp the fact that the steady pressure against his chest was due to the pair of arms wrapped about it, and then a voice laughed in his ear.

"Honestly?" Rin shouted over the roar of the raging torrent. "I wasn't sure that that would work."

Fíli didn't answer him, still trying to figure out exactly how he had escaped certain death. Still trying to catch his breath. The water around them was slowing by the second, draining away faster than he would have thought possible. It wasn't until his feet touched solid stone that he let himself believe the danger had passed, and only then that Rin released his hold and started to untie the rope attached to his belt, a line Fíli followed from the dwarf it was bound to, up the wall to the landing above where Lnolir and several others had been clinging on for dear life.

"Did you…" he stopped, swallowed, and tried not to stare too hard at the young prince as he asked, "Did you jump?"

There was no other way Rin could have reached him so quickly. The stairs were too far away, the water had been moving too swiftly, and it explained why Dain's son had a rope wound tightly about his waist. There was no other way, and yet Fíli could not quite bring himself to believe what had just happened. Not only because it had worked, but because Rin had even thought to do it in the first place.

Untroubled by Fíli's incredulity, his cousin beamed at him as if he hadn't just committed an act of pure Durin recklessness. "Well, I could hardly let you drown now, could I?"

"You're a madman!" One of Rin's companions had made his way down the stairs to join them, as much anger in his tone as relief. "That rope was an inch away from snapping!"

"Aye," Rin agreed, smile undimmed. "Luck sided with the Line of Durin this day. Won't it make a grand tale for the Great Hall?"

"Only if Lord Dain doesn't wring your neck first," came the taut response, to which Rin only laughed.

Fíli, deciding that he had, in fact, survived his imminent death, promptly sat down, unable to muster even the chagrin worthy of discovering he was seated in a pool of water.

"Fíli!" He knew that voice, snapping his head up in time to see Dwalin loping towards him through the knee-high lake, looking for all the world like he'd just seen a ghost. "Are you alright, lad?" Drawing near, the warmaster crouched beside the young dwarf, his concern written across his face for anyone to see. "Fíli?"

"No." How could he be, he thought miserably, when all this had been for naught? Now that the fear for his own fate had passed the realisation of what his failure meant was dawning on him. He had sworn to his Uncle that he was capable of doing this one task. Of protecting his home. Averting disaster. And he had failed. "I couldn't… There wasn't time… I was too late, Dwalin."

"Too late?" Dwalin met his gaze and lifted a brow in question. "What are you talking about, lad?"

"T-the flood. They let it go, and… and…" He trailed off, confused by the feral smile spreading across the warrior's face. "Dwalin?"

"That little shower?" the warmaster said airily. "It might've been strong enough to do some damage here, but by the time it reaches the lower levels it won't be much more than a trickle."

Fíli blinked, then he frowned. "I don't understand."

Dwalin shrugged. "I might have emptied a reservoir or two whilst you were dealing with Valin's men."

"Oh." He let that sink in a moment. Let himself examine the truth that he had not, against all expectations, unwittingly sentenced all his kinsmen to death. He probably should have been feeling something like joy in that moment, but a sudden wave of exhaustion overwhelmed even his sense of relief. "That's good, then."

"Good?" Rin's voice came from somewhere above him, distant and yet near at the same time. "We've won, Fíli! Valin is finished."

"Yes," he agreed. "We've won."

And then he promptly passed out.

~The Heart of Erebor~

"Ma?"

"Yes, dearest?" Dís did not look up from her needlework, intent on the sigil she was weaving into the deep blue fabric. The silver thread had been expensive, a waste of money Thorin would have said, yet he had never once complained about actually wearing the cloaks she wove for him, and it comforted her to know he carried a part of home with him in all his wanderings.

"Ma." Not content to only have half of her attention, her youngest tugged firmly on her skirts, forcing her to set her work aside to gaze down into those fretful dark eyes.

"I am listening, Kíli," she promised. "What troubles you?"

He frowned at her, the expression intent despite the youth of the face that bore it, and it should not have reminded her of Thorin so but it always did. "You need to come back, ma."

She could not stop herself from frowning at his words, even as she tried to hide it from him. He said such strange things sometimes, her little one. It had worried her once, but Nali had been quick to reassure her that there was no need to fret just yet. It was merely an oddity of childhood Kíli would be sure to grow out of with time. She wasn't certain she believed that, but she could not deny that Kíli's oddness was not doing anyone any harm.

"Nonsense, little one," she chided him gently. "I am exactly where I am supposed to be." She moved to pick up her needlework, but he tugged on her skirts again. Harder this time, more urgent.

"Ma." There was fear in his voice and she turned back to him, perplexed. "Ma, you need to come back."

"Come back where, Kíli?" she said, trying to soothe him as she took his hand in her own. "What is the matter?"

"Please, ma." He pulled on her hand, and there were tears in his eyes now, a desperation that didn't belong on the face of a child. "Please, you have to come back."

"Kíli." She allowed him to pull her to her feet, only to crouch down before him, laying her free hand upon his shoulder. "Kíli, what has happened?"

Fear touched her heart even as she asked the question, wondering if he had been sent to fetch her. Had there been an accident at the mine? The shafts were old, and even with the new reinforcements some of the ancient workings were still not as solid as they should have been. But she would have heard the bells ringing if that were the case, and surely Tyrth would have come to her himself with any such news.

Perhaps there was word of Thorin and Dwalin. They were due to return any day now, and there was always a horrible period of waiting and wondering if they were simply late or had encountered trouble on the road. Had anything happened to either his King or his brother, however, Balin would have already been on her doorstep. He would never have entrusted so dire a message to so young a messenger.

Fíli. Could it be Fíli? But, no, he was out with his father for the day, she would not have heard of one without the other, and if some misfortune had befallen them both then Jorunn would have come, ever ready to account for the dwarf he had mentored.

There were countless other possibilities, of course, and Kíli was offering no explanation, simply pulling on her hand with firm persistence, demanding that she follow. For a reason she could not name she still hesitated to do so, wrestling against the absurd notion that if she stepped away from the warmth of the fire and the comfort of her favourite armchair then it would all simply vanish into oblivion.

"Ma?"

Her son's plaintive appeal spurred her into action, and she rose once again, allowing him to tow her along out of the room and into the hallway. The doorway to the outside world loomed ahead of them, flung open without a care for the cold air slipping inside. The sun was hanging low enough in the sky so as to obscure any view of what lay beyond the threshold, perfectly framing the silhouette of her husband as Nali cocked his head at her in question, concern dimming his usual smile.

"Dís?" Her name was a question, and then he added another, "Where are you going?"

"Kíli needs me," she replied. There was a truth behind those words that made them seem heavier. Irrefutable. More solid and real than the soft light playing along the walls that hemmed her in.

"Kíli?" Nali asked, his voice still nothing but innocent inquiry. "But he is right here."

He was. Standing at her side and clinging to her hand so tightly it was starting to hurt. She glanced down at him, only to find his gaze fixed upon his father, his lips parted, and something like fear spreading across his face.

That… wasn't right. What reason did he have to fear Nali? His father, who had always been so gentle with Fíli; so attentive and cheerful, determined to be worthy of his son's affection. Who hadn't minded that Kíli was a fussy bairn, never ready to sleep when he should or entertain himself when others could not be spared. It was true that as Kíli had grown older Nali had not spent as much time with him, but that was because… because…

The hallway seemed to shudder, and Dís drew in a sharp breath, feeling a sting in her chest that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. Kíli was still holding her hand in a deathgrip, and she knew why. For the second time she knew.

"You're dead."

It sounded absurd when she said it aloud. Nali was standing before her, solid as stone, living and breathing, flesh and blood. Yet the words were true. They were true, and this was false.

"Dís?" It was Nali's face, twisted into a look of hurt confusion, and Dís took a step back as he took one forward, instinctively pulling Kíli behind her. "What are you talking about? I'm right here."

She wanted to believe him. There seemed to be no reason why she shouldn't. Nothing to suggest the feelings sweeping over her were anything but an illusion. And yet Kíli was beside her, trembling and uncertain and refusing to let her go, and that was real as well. She could feel it. Feel the pain of his grip and the fear that made his fingers shake inside her own.

"You're dead," she repeated the words, and they did not sound so absurd now. "I saw your body." She remembered the horror. She remembered the blood. She remembered the shaft that had pierced her Nali's heart. "I buried you."

"Dís, that's not true. I'm not–"

"But you are." She couldn't bear to let him finish. Not when she was already crying, feeling the cruel pain of an old wound tearing open anew. "You left me alone, Nali." She bent down, lifting Kíli into her arms and holding him close as she edged forwards. Towards the door and the spectre both. "We lost this future a long time ago."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she couldn't stand to listen, making a dash for the threshold only to feel his hand snare about her wrist, pulling her to a halt and making her turn to face him.

"Don't go," he pleaded. "We could be happy here, Dís. You and me and the boys. We could be free. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"What I wanted doesn't matter anymore." Gently, she pushed his hand away. "I cannot stay. My children need me." She lifted her head then, looking straight at the ghost of a past that had never been. "Nali would have understood that."

She turned away, the threshold rose to meet her, bright and blinding, and she didn't hesitate as she stepped across the border into the unknown.

Notes: A/N: A sidenote about Valin and his poisons. I've taken all the liberties allowed to me in a fantasy setting with this one, as well as a dribble of what we canonically see Sauron's poisons of being capable of. When Kili was struck down, the mental weapon used against him to try and make him give up was his own crushing fears. This would never work for Dis, who is the type to laugh fear in the face and barrel on through regardless. Therefore the best way to stop her from fighting was to make her think she didn't need to fight at all. Or, at least, that was the logic behind this chapter. Whether or not it is actually logical I'll leave up to you.

As for Fili's escape, the answer to that one is 'because I can and because Durins are idiots'. The end.

[roninreverie]

Quick shout-out to my 3 favorite Firelights in the crowd there!