I see fire.
As he heard another cry, he felt a heart-wrenching tug and fell to his knees, still fighting to protect his uncle and brother.
Looking down, he glimpsed the hilt of an orcs sword buried deep within his stomach.
He saw blood, red and fire, Kili, his baby brother he promised to protect, had stopped moving, bless his heart Kili who had kept his brother alive, was now dead, their uncle dying beside him, Kili had died with honor, to protect Thorin.
He decided then and there, that he would live for Kili, be the one to tell his mother that her son and brother died honorably in battle, anger fueling him to stand and wield his sword at any orc or goblin who had dared come near his uncle's dying body, and his dearest brother.
He felt searing pain in his left side and looked down for a moment, pausing at the sight of three arrows, fanning out from his side, deep into it, piercing a lung, all three of them.
As Fili struggled to breathe, he swung at the last orc before collapsing into the mud, blood and grime of the ground beneath him.
"I'm sorry uncle, brother, I failed you." He whispered, tears falling from his eyes, diluting his already blood tainted beard as he spat blood.
On his knees, he felt his breath grow weak, rasping and wheezing, chest rocking with sobs escaping his lips.
Reaching out for Kili's hand, he murmured under his remaining breath, ignoring the pain in his chest.
"And if the night is burning,
I will cover my eyes,
For if the dark returns then,
My brothers will die,
And as the sky's falling down,
It crashed into this lonely town,
And with that shadow upon the ground,
I hear my people screaming out."
And with that, Fili Durinson, the last heir to the throne of Erebor, lay there dying, next to his brother and uncle, beard stained red, glassy eyed, looking up at the sky, the dark, stormy clouds gathering above the battlefield, and took his final breath.