The Revenge of a Huntress

the one with a home

Hi readers! Thanks for checking this story out! I've been busy dealing with two dogs in a small apartment for the past few days, so writing has been a necessity if I want to keep my sanity when dealing with Thing 1 and Thing 2. Thank you to those who have voted, commented, saved this story, and messaged me. It makes a world of a difference!

Special thanks to scorlilymouse333 for the comment 😊

Cheers!

Ally.

Where we love is home-

Home that our feet may leave,

But not our hearts.

-Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

"Thelle, you need to go!"

This can't be happening.

"I cannot leave you!"

An arrow had gone through his gut. A slow and painful death.

"You must! Aragorn is our hope, sister, and Aranelle is the light to guide the way. They need you, so please, get them to safety!"

"They need you, you are their father!"

Her brother looked at her, his grey eyes gleaming with tears. "I am done for, you know that. I love you, sister. Now, I order you—go!"

Lines of liquid salt cascaded down her face. "I love you."

A small smile came upon his lips. "More than all the stars in the sky."

She wept, a sob catching in her throat. "Farwell, brother."

Before she could turn, an arrow whistled past her shoulder and found itself in his eye. He was dead before his body even hit the ground.

She screamed.

The white orc had shot him. The white orc killed Arathorn.

"What do you mean, this is just a place you own?" A voice from behind her asked.

"I meant what I said." Huntress didn't bother turning to face Thorin, who had walked through the door. "It is not my home, not anymore. However, this place is safe to stay, so don't worry."

She kept her eyes on the picture that Bilbo had handed her—the one of her and Arathorn. It seemed like a lifetime ago, when they were together and happy. It had seemed like it was them against the world, and they were going to be the ones to bring their family back home.

But they didn't.

Arathorn didn't.

Their eyes were the same. Both grey, not a dark grey, like an evening storm, but silver. His hair was dark, wavy, and out of control. Huntress remembered that he could never find a way to neatly do it, much to his wife's, Gilraen's, undoing. Her hair was not curly like his and could neatly be held back. The Valar must have had pity on her, she guessed.

"Who is that?" The Dwarf King asked.

Bilbo answered for her. "It is her brother, apparently."

She felt the power radiating off Gandalf before she saw him in her peripheral as he glanced down at the drawing in her hands. "Whoever drew this caught the likeness of your brother perfectly," he commented.

Huntress nodded breathlessly. "I almost forgot what he looked like."

Gandalf's eyes were soft as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "He was a great man."