Disclaimer: Everything in this story is owned either by JRR Tolkien or Peter Jackson or both. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
Author's Note: Well, here's the promised Battle of Five Armies Kiliel one-shot. And we all know what the Battle of Five Armies means for Kili. This was…..rather depressing, to say the least.
The stench of dead orcs hung over the battlefield like a cloud. The blood-stained ground was littered with bodies, orcs, goblins, men of Laketown, dwarves, even some elves. A lone figure made her way through the grisly remains of battle, her long hair loose in the breeze, her weapons still at her side.
All this death, all this destruction, so much greed. It pained her to think of it; the greed of men, the greed of dwarves, and even the greed of her own people, the elves. Even they, though to some they seemed untouchable, even they were susceptible this terrible evil.
And now there were so many in need of help, so many places she could be. She resolutely walked towards the tents of the wounded, in hopes that she could be of some help there. And maybe, the thought entered her mind, maybe he had been found. He was so young, so inexperienced, it would be just like him to do something reckless in the middle of battle and get himself….well, badly injured. She would not think of the other possibility. She would help…him, and many others, if she could.
"Lady…." Her thoughts were interrupted at hearing a weak voice at her feet. She looked down to see an elf, injured, dying. His eyes slowly closed as she dropped to her knees beside him, and she knew a moment later that his spirit had passed out of the world. She sat there for a moment, then standing up slowly, she walked on. She had seen so much death in these last weeks.
She kept her eyes from the blood stained ground as she walked on in the direction of the tents. She was no stranger to death, but that didn't mean it didn't still hurt.
As her eyes roamed the battlefield, they suddenly rested on a small figure, and she stopped short. Not a moment later, recognition dawned in her mind, and she was running forward, dropping to her knees beside him. His eyes were closed and a jagged cut ran along his cheek. Blood seeped out of his tunic where he had obviously sustained a much greater injury. His bow lay by his side, snapped in half, and his quiver held no arrows. His dark hair was matted and dirty. But still, she recognized him, and as she dropped to her knees, she took his hand in hers.
"Kili," she said softly, hoping against hope he would answer. He was alive; she could sense it. But he was barely alive, and she felt an unbidden tear rise to her eye at the thought that followed. For a moment, she sat there, holding his hand, then whispered his name again. And, then just as she had begun to despair, his eyes fluttered open.
The first thing he felt was her hand holding his. As he faded into consciousness, he could sense a presence near him, and feel her soft hand holding his. His eyes opened slowly, and rested on her face.
"You're here," he managed to whisper. "You came to me."
"I found you." Her voice sounded to him, in his half-conscious state, like the voice of an angel. He tried to sit up, tried take her other hand in his, but she gently stopped him.
"You will only make your injuries worse," she said softly. "Do not try to move."
"S…so many dead…." He whispered. "M…my brother….my uncle…are they…."
"I do not know," she replied gently, but though barely conscious, he sensed a finality in her voice which made him feel as if she did know.
"P…promise me…." He felt himself slipping by the moment, and he had not the energy to fight. "Promise me….if you find them….you will help them."
"I will," she promised, and her clear voice was like a healing balm to his ears. "But first…I must help you."
"I…I do not think…" With the last of his strength, he reached up and took her other hand in his. He had accepted it as he lay on the battlefield, he had accepted the end, if only he could say farewell…to her…to his brother, his uncle…. "You cannot help," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Yes I can!" she cried. "I can, and I will."
"My…brother…my uncle…help them…."
"I will, I promise," she said quietly. "But I must help you."
Gathering the last of his strength, he raised himself ever so slightly on one arm, and looked straight into her eyes. "Just….let me…say…farewell," he whispered.
As she stared into his eyes, she felt the finality of it settle in her mind. She could not save him now. Even as she held both of his hands in hers, she felt his spirit slipping. She felt a tear fall down her cheek, for this would be a parting beyond the world, beyond death. They would be separated forever and there was nothing she could do. She leaned over slowly and pressed her lips to his, one last time. "Farewell," she said softly. "Oh, farewell."
And holding both of her hands in his, he looked for one last time upon her face before his eyes closed and he slipped into a sleep from which he would never wake.
Sometimes I wonder why I do this to myself. I mean, I love Kili (and Fili!) so much, and I hate that they have to die, and then I go and write something like this. And then I get all depressed about it again. Well, I hope you liked it, or didn't, or whatever reaction you usually have to things like this.