WEAVER
He reaches for her, and she obliges, because of course she would oblige. She’d never intended to go anywhere at all, but to stay by his side. There is nothing else she can offer him besides her presence, but sometimes that is enough. Sometimes that is all that matters. She slides into the bed with him, letting him tuck his head against her shoulder. She reaches around him, wrapping him in her arms. How many times had they done this, when he was little? When he’d been scared, or after their parents died. There’d been a few nights after Erebor died too, after she’d come back home. She’d slipped into his room just to be there, just to hold him tight. Maybe her arms around him could keep him safe. Maybe too, it could keep her strong.
So they lay like that now, like they have so many times before but not for a long time. Maybe that’s where they went wrong, when they ceased to curl up together the way only siblings can. When they’d ceased to hold to each other physically, remembering only the emotional pain that serving such a bond can bring. She doesn’t know, and maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it only matters that she is here now, that when everything else breaks, they still have each other.
So they lay like that now, like they have so many times before but not for a long time. Maybe that’s where they went wrong, when they ceased to curl up together the way only siblings can. When they’d ceased to hold to each other physically, remembering only the emotional pain that serving such a bond can bring. She doesn’t know, and maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it only matters that she is here now, that when everything else breaks, they still have each other.
I was made to be wild, wicked, and free
