“i don’t mean to— that’s not what i’m———” elyon did not meet thorin’s eyes, diverting her gaze instead towards her shuffling feet. she stood a solid foor taller than him, yet somehow he made her feel small, smaller than even their hobbit companion. “i know that, i know you’ve not— rolled over.”
“our war is to the east, yes. but my war has followed me from skyrim, the one i chose to take up arms for. i cannot stand by silently while the same injustices happen here as they happened in my homeland. what kind of a hypocrite would i be if i did?”
she met his eyes at last, though her lip quivered slightly. she opened her arms, palms turned up in a gesture of surrender. “but i don’t have centuries, or ages. i’m sorry— i’m only human. as much as it offends you, decades are all i have, at best.”
at worst— well, she wasn’t sure she’d make it out of his mountain.
“This war is not Imperial and Stormcloak. This is not a matter of Nords and other races. I understand your sense of justice, but you do not know our ways, our people, our world. If you wish so dearly to help us, listen and heed the help we ask for.” He remained rough and bristling where Elyon was fretful and distressed. He stared at her even as she looked away.
The mention of her humanity, her short life, took the dwarf aback. Just what did she think he was asking of her?
“Elyon, you are your own person with your own life. None of us among the company would ask you to give your life for a cause you’re not involved in. The fact that you are willing to help us in this endeavor is more than we could ask for.” He was quiet as he spoke, brows furrowing slightly with a concern he didn’t know how to voice.
Tentatively, a hand reached out to touch her arm. “You have no obligation to us, nor would we ask it of you. Years, decades, any amount of time. You owe it to no one.”