“Bilba.

His memory called forth an image, not of how he'd last seen her but of how he normally saw her. Wearing the armor Fili had made her, tall and strong, her sword clutched firmly in hand as she charged forth to battle the dark.

Mahal, but she was beautiful.

She was fire and ice, strength and stubbornness, grace and finesse. She was unwaveringly loyal, kind and compassionate to a fault and braver than anyone he'd ever known.

If someone had asked him to describe the perfect child the resulting image he would have come up with wouldn't have held a candle to the person Bilba actually was.

There was no comparison.

She was as beautiful as Bella had been, inside and out.

And he'd left her in Moria.

Both of them.


(DWALIN)”