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I use to think that these kind of things happen to bad people. But I was wrong, oh was I ever so wrong. You see, Thorin, I know you did some bad things. I know you regret some of those things. But what can you do now? Laying in the halls of your fathers, with your sister's-sons. Leaving me behind, in scorched fields, and stone hearts. I should have been there, beside you, helping you. I'm not the Hobbit I was when Gandalf marked my door- I no longer long for my armchair and gardens, but for you face and your rare, raucous laughter.
I do hope Fíli and Kíli are fairing well, along side you and their forefathers. I bet they're still causing trouble, stepping on plates and tossing about dishes- blunting knives perhaps. Perhaps one day I will see you all three again, that is, if a crazy Hobbit such as myself would be allowed into your great halls.
You're sister's come to take the throne. She's so much like you, it's almost funny. The Arkenstone doesn't seem to effect her, and she doesn't set it atop the throne. She's gifted the Elves their stones, and the Men their gold. However I could not seem to take my 14th of the gold- I don't need it anyways. Dwalin told me I'm to be an honored guest until I find my time to part. Which I may never find.
I've been thinking about what will happen when I decide I want to settle down. I don't think I can make a home with anyone but you, Thorin. I believe, though it might be a little too late to say, I'm in love with you.
It's pretty chilly, down here in the crypts, sitting at your feet. I only do so wish you would come about and wrap your coat around me. I forgot it in my chambers, on my bed. It still smells like you at times. I think you'll be happy to know Kíli and Fíli were laid to rest on either side of you, looking handsome and devious, like they were in life.
This mountain has drunk too much blood, Thorin, that I fear your next harvested crop will be tainted. But, on a better note, your war-rams are being bred and thriving again. And there are flowers coming up here and there. Marigolds, petunias, tulips, lilies, and even roses. Yes, roses! Red and yellow and pink. They are oh so pretty.
Oh! Dís had another child, a little girl, and sometimes the little ones like to make flower crowns. I do enjoy it too, but it seems that everything makes me feel down in some way, though I try my best not to show it. I know that's not what you would have wanted. Your sister, she's also talking about getting married again- and I think to someone in the company. She seems to be ogling at Dwalin a bunch. But who am I to say who she loves. Haha...
Dear me, it seems I've started crying again. You'll have to forgive me, my King. I do believe I've gotten some tears on your stone. Which is beautifully craved, I must sy. Ori helped out a lot, his hands seem very steady and skillful. I would have never been able to do it, I fear I haven't stopped shaking since you've... Since you've gone.
Well, my dear friend, I believe it is supper time. I won't be eating. Again. I know, how odd. A Hobbit missing a single meal? That's outrageous. Do not fear, oh King-under-the-mountain. My appetite has fled for the while, but should soon be returning. I do hope so, my stomach has gone flat and it makes me look rather ungainly.
I'll be back tomorrow, the same time. Savor your sleep, my King, you look rather peaceful.
Goodnight, Thorin, son of Thrain.
Goodnight my King.