When Fili died he had expected to see his Mother's face. At least he had wondered if it would be her face as he had no beloved waiting to come to him once the Mountain had been retaken. Still his Mother was the sweet woman who had raised him and his brother as best as she could bereft of home, male folk and most of her own kin as she had been. Maybe even the Blue Mountains, the place he had called home for all his short life, with the sound of the forges calling him home. Perhaps even his uncle's stern face, a face that had soothed him and his cares when he was younger after his father had died. Even if most knew him as a hard stern leader, Fili remembered a time when he was slightly more carefree who took time to spend with his nephews. Most likely he had expected it to be his brother. Fierce, loyal, joyous, reckless Kili who looked so like their Mother and Uncle. Instead as the blade pierced his skin, the face he saw in his mind had blonde hair, pale skin and blue eyes. That he would never have expected. A daughter of man who he had barely had time to know yet he wished now to have done so. Sensible, solid, caring Sigrid.
