CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - THE LAST GOODBYE

"Many places I have been, many sorrows I have seen. But I don't regret, nor will I forget, all who took that road with me."
Billy Boyd

2995 TA

A soft knock echoing from her bedroom door shook Hayden from her thoughts. She lowered the book she had been reading and frowned curiously at the door.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened slowly to reveal a young girl, with long raven hair. She stepped inside the room, barefooted and cautious, her grey eyes locked on Hayden.

"Hello, dear," Hayden said, smiling warmly. Her frown however stayed etched upon her brow and her eyes slightly glazed.

"Good morning, mu… hi," the girl stuttered, standing nervously by the door.

"Can I help you with anything?" Hayden encouraged.

"I- I came to see how you were feeling," she said, taking slow steps forward.

"Oh… well I am quite well, thank you," Hayden smiled politely.

She gestured to the seat beside her own and the girl took it with a small smile. The seat had been placed there for guests, which Hayden seemed to be getting a lot of lately… though she couldn't think why.

"I have a letter that came for you early this morning," the girl said. She shuffled through the pockets of her midnight blue coat to retrieve a small envelope with Hayden's name on it.

"A letter? Oh, I can't remember the last time I had a letter," Hayden laughed, taking the envelope excitedly.

The girl watched on with an almost sad glint in her eye, as Hayden opened and read the letter.

"Well… that is odd," Hayden said, frowning, "Perhaps they have addressed it to the wrong person. I shall have to talk to one of the guards about it later."

She folded it neatly on her lap and turned to the girl sitting before her.

"Well, thank you for delivering that…?" She trailed off, waiting expectantly.

The girl swallowed hard, "A-Aría… my name is Aría."

"A lovely name for a lovely girl," Hayden said warmly, "Your parents must be so proud to have such a beautiful daughter."

"I like to think so," Aría muttered, biting hard into her bottom lip.

She stood abruptly and bid Hayden a quiet goodbye, before leaving the room without another glance.

Hayden stared after her and frowned when the door snapped shut. Aría… it was a lovely name… and so very familiar…

Thorin swore under his breath and halted halfway up the stairs that led to the west wing. He couldn't ever remember climbing stairs to be such a feat than in the last few years. It was as if he were hiking up the mountain itself.

He braved the rest of the journey only just, his breathing coming in heavy gasps.

"Mahal curse this age," he muttered.

Thodin had suggested at some point that Thorin stay in the west wing. His meals could be brought to him and his family would gladly make the journey to see him. But if he were to be cooped up in that wing for the remainder of his life he knew he would go mad.

And besides, it wasn't a good idea to spend a lot of time in the west wing these days.

Some were good days, he admitted silently. There would be days when she recognised him or could recall a random memory from their life together. She could even go so far as to remember stories from her childhood.

But more often than not now they were bad days. That's how it had all begun, no less than one year ago.

He had woken one morning to a horrified shrieking, as though someone were being murdered. No one was being murdered of course. His wife had only woken in bed with a man she claimed not to know.

She did know him. She had known him for fifty-five years. Only she didn't remember she had known him for fifty-five years. Nor did she remember the four children they had made together. Or the friends and family they had grown old with.

Even if it was a good day now, Thorin refused to call it that. Because all it took was a single blink and all the memories and faces would disappear, and that one good day would turn.

How do you look into someone's eyes and see so much history, so much love and pain… so many memories, only to know that they don't see the same when they look at you?

Thorin sighed heavily as he stopped in front of the familiar grand door that led into the west wing. He prepared himself for what was waiting for him inside, when the door flew open and a sobbing mass of raven black hair crashed into him.

"Aría?" he started, arms spread looking down at the girl whose face was now buried into his chest.

"I- I went t-to see her," she sobbed, her voice muffled against his cloak. "I-I'm s-sorry. I know I-I shouldn't h-have."

Thorin sighed and wrapped his arms around his daughter's shaking form. "Oh, darling… do not be sorry."

After another moment of silence, which was only interrupted by Aría's broken sobs, she lifted her head from Thorin's chest. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks soaking wet from tears.

"It-it's getting worse," she sniffed, "She didn't even know my n-name."

Thorin raised his hands and gently brushed away the strands of hair stuck to her wet cheeks. He cupped her face in both his hands, drying the tears as they fell.

"Why did you want to see her, kurduh?" he asked softly.

"I-I just did," Aría sighed, "And… she got a letter."

"A letter?" Thorin repeated.

"From… Bilbo."

Thorin's eyes widened for a moment, before he restrained himself and turned his full attention back to his daughter.

"Kili and Drú are in the training grounds," he said, "Why don't you go to them?"

Aría nodded and cuddled into him once more. His grey hair, once the same shade of black as hers, fell over her shoulders.

"Men lananubukhs menu," he whispered into her hair. He could feel her smile against his chest.

When she finally retreated, letting her arms fall back to her sides, he kissed her forehead and both her cheeks, earning him a small smile from his princess.

"Be safe, love," he called after her as she left.

It wasn't until she was completely out of sight that Thorin let out his frustration in a low groan.

The dwarves in charge of the mailing room knew fully well of Hayden's condition and that any mail to her was to be delivered directly to him. It wasn't Aría's fault, no. Those damned dwarves should have known better.

He strode – significantly slower than he would have done in his younger years – purposely through the door into the main hallway. It shut with a click behind him that echoed eerily through the empty wing that was once bustling full of life.

He passed his old study, unused for some ten years now. That table with the crooked edges Hayden was always nagging him to remove, lest one of the children injure themselves on it. The spot on the wall where Frerin had decided to draw a ghastly picture of an orc being slaughtered by an oliphaunt, which they could never quite rub off completely. And there… yes, there was where Drúdin had been ill with food poisoning and heaved all over the rug that had once belonged to Thrór.

He forced back another heavy sigh when he finally reached the door to their chambers. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, thinking… hesitating. Without bothering to knock, he swung open the door, and his heartbeat began to race beneath his thick layers of clothing.

"Hayden?"

His call was met with a soft, choked sob from across the dimly lit room. His eyes took a short amount of time to adjust to the lighting, before he could make out her figure, sitting in her usual chair by the blazing fire. Her face was buried in her hands, her thin grey hair falling over them. On her lap lay a small letter, the envelope lying abandoned close by.

At the sound of her weeping, he strode forwards against his better judgment. He pulled the spare seat and placed it directly in front of hers and settled himself on the edge of it. His hands were about to place themselves on her knees, before he finally stopped himself. His heart skipped painfully.

For a moment, for one moment, he had quite forgotten their predicament. He had seen his wife and life companion in need and had raced to her, forgetting she might not even know who he was.

His hands faltered and he reluctantly placed them at his sides instead.

"Hayden?" he asked, more tentatively this time.

It was a few moments before Hayden reacted to his presence at all. Her hands slowly removed themselves from her face, to reveal her tear stained red cheeks. Thorin was instantly reminded of his daughter, to whom he had just comforted not five minutes ago.

"I'm forgetting," she said, her voice soft and croaky from her weeping. "I'm forgetting everything."

Thorin's breath hitched and he sat back slightly in his seat, observing her carefully. It had been such a long time since her last good day; he had doubted she might ever have one again.

"I doubt if my own daughter were sitting in front of me I would know who she was," she said, oblivious to the fact that that fear had just occurred.

She sniffled and wiped away her tears, before finally raising her head to look Thorin in the eyes, and he returned her gaze.

He could have cried out with joy, for he saw the recognition in her eyes that he had been so longing to see. Recognition of who he was and the life they had lived together. But he dare not trigger her disease, so instead he remained silent, only his eyes showing the true joy he felt.

"I had a letter from Bilbo," she said, fingering the letter in her lap, "I think that's the reason I… everything came back to me."

Thorin raised an eyebrow in surprise, but continued to stay silent. It had never occurred to him that that of all things might trigger her memory.

She lent against the arm of the chair, her palm cupping her chin. Her gaze flittered away from Thorin to stare dazedly into the fire.

"I remember- I remember thinking how on earth is Bilbo Baggins writing to me? Is he not a fictional character?" she mused, "That's when it must have clicked… oh, of course, I am married to one of those fictional characters, am I not?"

A small smile flickered her features and she looked to Thorin, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The look was so familiar, that Thorin could not help but smile back.

Her smile turned to a grin, and soon enough she was laughing. And he was too. And then they were laughing together, for the first time in a long time.

Hayden had tears in her eyes by the time they had begun to calm down, and her stomach ached pleasantly. She looked to Thorin and saw he was watching her, still smiling.

Slowly, she rose from her seat and stretched out her stiff limbs. Then, ignoring Thorin's brief look of confusion, she crossed the distance between their two seats and seated herself comfortably on his lap, much to his surprise and immense delight.

She groaned slightly as she lifted her legs up and over the chair's arm. His arms came to wrap firmly around her waist and hold her to him, relishing in their closeness that he had so ached for.

"When did we get so old?" she asked, resting her head against his shoulder.

Thorin let out a grunt of amusement and tightened his grip on her.

"I'm sorry, Thorin," Hayden whispered, "I'm sorry for everything."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said firmly, "We cannot change what Mahal has planned for us."

He lifted his head from the back of the chair to press his forehead gently against hers.

"I am grateful for the time I had with you, Hayden Parker," he said, "You saved me."

She smiled softly and lent forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "And you gave me a family."

He returned her smile and sighed contentedly, soaking up the feel of her against him again and what was left of the time he had with her and her memory.

"So, my darling husband… what now?"

Thorin looked off for a moment, pondering her question. When he looked back suddenly, his expression was almost unreadable, even to her.

He gestured for her to stand up and she did, with him following her. He moved past her into the clear space of their room, just before their bed. He held out a single hand to her and bowed slightly, his eyes locked on her.

"Thorin?" she questioned, torn between confusion and amusement.

He gestured to her with his outstretched hand and smiled lovingly.

"Dance with me, my Queen… one last time."

Hayden passed away three months after this, surrounded by her family. In the short amount of time since her last good day, her health deteriorated rapidly, and by the end, she struggled to remember even herself.

Overcome by grief, Thorin succumbed to his pain not a month after Hayden's death.

They were buried side-by-side, deep within the Mountain that they had ruled over during their life together.

Though they had time to prepare for the grief of losing their mother, the shock of their father's death hit the four Durin heirs harder than ever. They spent the months after comforting and caring for one another and battling their way through the storm of grief, as the entire Kingdom mourned the loss of their great monarchs.

But they were their parent's children after all, and they knew very well that Thorin and Hayden had not died wishing their children to live in misery. Eventually, it was time to move on from their grief.

Thodin went on to become as prosperous a King Under the Mountain as his father had been before him. He married eventually, and he knew his mother would be proud when he said he wed out of love. Together they had three children, two Princesses and eventually a Prince – Thorin IV.

Neither Drúdin nor Frerin married, though there were plenty of eager women in line for their hearts. They dedicated their lives to aiding Thodin during his rule, protecting the Mountain and organizing trades between other kingdoms.

Aría was the only other beside Thodin to wed. Like her brothers, she would not have married at all had she not have fallen head over heels.

Ronan, son of Drogan, was a miner – a hard working yet low class by dwarven standards. They had met in their early childhood years, but Aría, being Thorin and Hayden's daughter, was stubborn enough to push it off as a mere crush. It was only after the shock of her parent's deaths that she realised just how short life was, and accepted how much she loved him.

Of course there were some in the Mountain who despised the marriage. A mere miner marrying a direct descendent of Durin – how preposterous!

But Aría neither cared nor concerned herself with these whispers, for Ronan had won her heart and the favour of her brother's too – which was a feat in itself. They had only one child, a girl they named Hayden.

And so life Under the Mountain went on, much as it had for the last fifty odd years.

As for the heirs of Durin… well, they could only hope that their parents found peace, as they made their final journey together into the west.

*Distant muffled sobbing* Here it is, the last chapter!

You all don't know how appreciative I am of your support. Your reviews may not seem like much but they're what keeps me going. Looking back on it, I honestly don't even know how I came up with this story or Hayden... but I'm so glad I did. Sometimes it's the little things in life that keep you going, and Hayden was my only little thing for a long time.

So I hope you're all satisfied with this last chapter. It's hard when you're writing something you know will completely tie off a story, so I really do hope you all love this ending as much as I do.

Lots of thanks and love readers... I bid you all a very fond farewell :)