Amathel could hear the sounds of battle up ahead and pushed herself to run harder, sword and shield pulled close to her body as it would allow. She'd already seen to it that her father and brother remain safe; now she would fight for the King Under the Mountain. She arrived in time to see Thorin facing off against Azog himself, and she leapt forward into the fray. With a cry, she slashed at Azog, who had turned just in time to dodge her blow. Thorin seemed frozen in shock, watching as she easily drove back the intruder. Azog seemed angry, eyes constantly darting back to Thorin with a fury in them. Amathel kept him back, bringing her shield up and glaring over the edge. Azog gave a battle cry, charging forward to knock her over. She felt the wind leave her as they hit the ground, and it took her a few moments to realize each of them had been stabbed. He'd caught in her in the side, if the burning sensation could be believed; she had stabbed his heart. It seemed forever before the large mass was rolled off of her and she could gasp in a proper breath, looking up to see Thorin.
"Are you alright, my lady?" He reached to pull her up and she waved him away, unsure of the wound in her side. She chanced a glance and groaned, noting the blood beginning to pool next to her. Thorin's gaze followed her own, and his jaw clenched. "Come on. Let's get you looked at." He gathered her in his arms as best he could, carrying her back towards the main battery. The pain nearly had her passing out and she did everything she could to stay conscious. It wasn't until they passed a few tents that she realized he wasn't taking her to the Lonely Mountain, but to her father's encampment. Once she determined in was safe, she allowed the blackness to swallow her up, the pain fading almost immediately.
"Amathel." She could hear a familiar voice calling her name, and she shifted on the bed she'd been laid. "Amathel, it is time." Slowly, her eyes opened, burning slightly at the light that filtered into the tent above her.
"What?" Her throat was dry and her voice cracked, and she wondered how long they had stayed to await her recovery. There was a throbbing in her side and she couldn't help the pride she felt at slaying Azog.
"We must return to Mirkwood." Thranduil sat next to her, looking over her form with concern she hadn't seen from him in some time. With a grunt, she sat up, with her father's hands helping her as much as he dared.
"Alright. Hopefully, I shall see you again, father." His gaze hardened as she pulled her boots closer, struggling only slightly to pull them on.
"Amathel, you should return with us." He stood aside as she stood, tottering only slightly before quickly regaining her balance. She moved to gather her bag and weapons, not surprised that it pulled at her would to lift the items. "You are not yet healed."
"You made it clear that I was not to return." Her voice was harsher than she intended and she watched him flinch slightly. Taking a deep breath, she worked to calm her voice. "You are the one who said never to return home. I've simply been doing as you've asked."
"I was wrong." She blinked, shocked to hear such words come from her father. The King of the Mirkwood Elves never admitted to being wrong; his pride simply wouldn't allow that. "I should never have sent you away." Amathel remained silent and it was clear Thranduil was uncomfortable with the position they were in. "Please...come home." If her father had changed so much since she'd left, then perhaps things in Mirkwood were better than she'd anticipated. Nodding, she allowed him to take her weapons and bag and hand them off to a servant. "Thank you, daughter of mine."