Welcome, everyone, to my story! A tale of thrills and excitement, love and war, friendship and sorrow!
But before I begin, I'd like to note I own NOTHING by J.R.R. Tolkien, despite how amazing The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit and The Silmarillion are! All characters you don't recognize, however, were created and written by myself, The Penned Tekrid, and I would appreciate if you ask my permission before you use them, which I would not mind if you asked to!
I would also love to give a big thank you to all of The Hobbit fanfictions out there that have inspired and shaped my own story! If any of you authors out there are reading this, thank you for your amazing stories.
The following works are amazing, and if you like my story whatsoever, I recommending reading these too!
-"I've Seen Hell" by CeffylGwyn
-"Abad Bovan" by filimeala
-"Love is Patient" by photogirl894
-"Arkenstone Heart" by pirate-princess-loki
-"The Toymaker and the Widow" by cellotlix
I plan on having a strict update plan: One chapter every Sunday! And I will do my best to stick with it! So, plan for chapter two by the fifteenth!
And so now, without further ado, read on!
~The Penned Tekrid
Chapter One; How to Save a Life
It was cold. Though the blood pumped through my veins, I could no longer feel the heat of my flushed skin, nor the adrenaline that swarmed my muscles. Blood was blinked from my eyes, cuts ignored, pain vanquished from all thoughts. All I could feel was the death surrounding me and Orcrist hewing extremities left and right. My mind fuzzed with thoughts of worry, of wonder, of confusion, but despite it all, my body still dodged and parried, kicked and slew. Thorin was no more, but Thorin II? The King? He was alive and well, at the peak of his prime, and where he should be; fighting for his people and kingdom.
I had seen the battle field before- the blood lust was nothing new to my weary mind. Yet while before I fueled myself with rage for the dead, a new light began to flicker within. A light of Hope. A light for my sister and sister-sons, my companions, my people. Myself. With the people of Lake Town and the army of Durin defending my kingdom, I felt my Hope blossom, and could see it bloom anew in the hearts of others, both Dwarf and Man.
The Orcs did not understand the Hope of my people. It tormented them, killed them. Hatred and rage they could modify for their benefit in the thick of war time, but Hope? That feathered being that perched so carefully in the soul to spread its' wings when all seemed lost? Once awoken, it would not be so easily silenced.
Orcs fell before my kin like leaves in autumn. Though many already lay injured or dead, my people fought ferociously. With Smaug slain, Erabor was finally within our reach once more. All that stood between us and our prize was the army led by Azog the Defiler. The accursed creature should have perished long ago in the ruins of Moria, but sweet revenge turned sour when the Goblin King revealed his bounty set upon my head.
I could see the pale Orc straight ahead, hacking Dain's Dwarves down as if they were blades of grass. The mighty creature, though handicapped by his lack of hand and forearm, was unstoppable against many. He was my destination.
Orcrist sliced the neck of a gnarled Orc to my right, beheaded another behind. The pack of Orcs was thinning beneath our weapons, and the ground was littered with their black blood and lifeless bodies.
A low horn stopped me in my tracks, and as I brushed the fraying locks of hair away from my face, my body began to ache with a painful weariness as my battle wounds caught up to me. A pack of Wargs could be seen racing over the mountains, more Goblins and Orcs upon their backs. A fourth reinforcement army, as large as the one that came before it, came full force, crashing into armored Dwarves and Men, beheading some with a simple bite.
My Hope wavered. Our armies were already exhausted from the full force of Azog's army, and this new wave would surely be the death of us.
In the moment before the force of the Wargs descended upon us, I looked around slowly for what felt like an eternity. How many of the Company still resisted the Orcs? How many sat at Mahal's side? How many tombs would be built? How many families destroyed? Would I live to see Erebor come back to life?
"Thorin!"
The warning call stirred me back into reality. In that instant, I ducked to the trampled earth, a blade whizzing through the air where my neck had been only moments before. But it was no ordinary blade. It had notches along it and the blade spiked out ever so larger with each notch until it reached the width of my forearm. The color, though it was made of some metal, seemed like the milky white of bones, and that, along with the notches, strangely reminded me of a mans' spine. It was a rather shocking realization to come to when faced against this monster.
"My father wants your head, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór!" The monster growled in Black Speech, swinging its' blade like an ax down toward my body.
I rolled on my shoulder off to the right, getting a decent look at the creature as he watched me. It was pale like Azog, but a mighty red beard draped down from his chin and trailed along most of his armored chest-whether it was red by natural color or the blood of those he murdered, I could not tell. What little of his face that was not covered by metal was deformed and mangled almost beyond belief. His lower jaw and chin had no skin, but was only streaming flesh, layered with debris and dirt. The metal that I thought to be a helm seemed to be the only thing keeping the flesh attached to his face. Nails had been pushed into place, and it sickened me to think of the procedures necessary to do this to any living being. What ill will kept this creature from death?
I had heard of Azog's son, but only in passing. Bolg was his name, and at the time of his mentioning, he did not seem like a threat to me. Not for the first time in my life, I had been wrong.
A roar erupted from Bolg's scarred lips, his ugly weapon aiming for my neck once more. With my own yell, I raised Orcrist to meet his own. The force of the blow nearly sent me flying, but I held tight to my glowing sword, the skin on my hands protesting from the pain. Yet another roar escaped me and I threw my weight into Orcrist, bringing it around Bolg's blade toward the notches. Orcrist stuck in one of the notches and I began to swing around, pulling Bolg's blade with mine. Despite his best efforts, the hilt was torn from his grasp and the blade was tossed off a ways into the surrounding battle.
Bolg's eyes followed his weapon, and I knew he intended to get it back, but I had other ideas. With a last triumphant growl, I brought Orcrist around on his neck, slicing clean through without any difficulty.
"Thorin! Thorin!" I saw my nephew, Kíli, who had warned me of Bolg's presence only just in time, chanting my name while slicing the leg of a gnarled Orc, a playful smile on his lips. Despite a few cuts, he looked to be in better condition than I.
With a fierceness I had not felt since the battle of Azanulbizar, I grabbed at the thin hair atop Bolg's decapitated head with my other hand, and began my trek toward Azog. The blood covered Orc was still slicing at those around him. I felt my skin crawl as he licked my kins blood from his fingers, a look of satisfaction painted across his scarred face.
"Azog!" I yelled when I had come within Azog's radius, throat already aching from battle cries. When I was sure his cold blue eyes fell upon me, I raised up the head of Bolg and after a moment of holding it, I tossed it toward him, "Take your son back."
A look of slight horror replaced the proud grin that had been there previous. Those piercing eyes followed as the head rolled and then stopped just at his feet. Horror turned to disgust as he kicked the head away from his bare feet, bouncing this way and that as more feet tripped over it.
His disgust soon morphed into rage as he charged me, the tall Orc swinging his weapon my direction. He had bested me once before, and I did not plan on letting him do it again.
I ducked his blow, slicing at his ankle. I did not intend to kill him just yet, but instead, opted to toy with his anger. This monster did not deserve a quick and painless death.
With a shout, he swung again. I dodged once more, Orcrist cutting at his rib cage a bit more savagely than last.
Azog's anger was intensifying by the moment. His blows were getting foolish. He was becoming more sluggish with each slice I landed on his body. Just as I was about finish him for good, a call over the clamor of the battle field distracted me.
"Kíli! No!"
My eyes landed on my youngest nephew, and I realized just why Fíli had called his name; an Orcish arrow was lodged in the flesh just below his shoulder. Had in not been in the heat of the battle, or a real arrow in his shoulder, I might have laughed at the strange expression of surprise on his face.
"Kíli!" I dodged Azog and ran straight for my nephew, catching him under the arm as his knees hit the ground.
"The Elves!" Kíli gasped, a shaking finger pointing off into the distance.
Sure enough, Thranduil could been seen just over the hillock that the Wargs had swarmed what seemed like a lifetime ago. Though the distance was mighty, the Elf caught my gaze a nodded solemnly as his people charged forward, his own son, Legolas, at the head. It was in that moment I forgave Thranduil. Rather reluctantly, but he was forgiven nonetheless.
A mighty kick to my chest shot all thoughts from my mind and air from my lungs. I shoved Kíli in the opposite direction and watched him stumble forward into the battle, shooting his arrows into anyone near by, despite the arrow sticking from his own chest. He hadn't noticed Azog appear beside me.
I laid on the ground, trying to regain my breath and find Orcrist, which had slipped from my hand when I caught Kíli.
Azog's wicked grin had once again appeared as he held my own sword above my body, ready to fulfill his threat of wiping out the line of Durin.
Fíli and Kíli would live. Let Azog take my head if he wanted. With the help of the Elves, Erebor was as good as ours. My job here was done. I would not fight back.
A gargling laugh slipped from the Orcs' throat as he sliced the tip of Orcrist diagonally across my chest.
"Given up so easily, Dwarf-Scum?" He asked raising Orcrist up once more. I grit my teeth, ready to meet my forefathers and Mahal, "Suffer in hell, coward!"
A blond flash suddenly stood between the towering Orc and myself.
"No! Fíli!"
I sat up too fast, my eyes blurring as the blood rushed to my brain. I steadied myself for a few moments, taking in my surroundings as my vision cleared.
My upper body was bare for the most part, aside from the stained bandages over the healing wound Azog had dealt me.
Azog.
I started suddenly, looking up from the bed I was in. Across from me was the most heart breaking scene I have yet to lay my eyes on.
Two beds sat opposite of mine, both with a pale Dwarf partially under the navy and white covers. I recognized them instantly. Kíli was on my right, four half cut arrows protruding from his chest. The bandages around them flooded with blood. Too much blood.
Fíli's face was almost completely covered in scratches and cuts, all of which had been doctored and cleaned. The most terrifying part was the cut that ran horizontal across his neck. Though it was not deep enough to do enough damage, I still gagged, my heart pounding inside my chest. My eyes tricked me and told me they still breathed, but I knew better.
Worse yet, my sister sat between the two beds, both hands clasping the lifeless ones of her sons. I had promised to bring them back to her, and I had failed. I felt tears threaten to spill as I was reminded of my own brothers death, telling me to watch over our little "Díssie" before he passed.
"Dís..." A choked whisper escaped my lips.
Dís' dark locks swung around, tears slipping freely down her red cheeks and disappearing into her black beard.
My sisters tears were nothing new to me. In fact, they had been more common than smiles for a long while. We endured much, my sister and I. First the loss of our mother to Smaug, next our grandfather, brother and father. Her own husband fell next to me in battle, and I did not have the heart to tell her he had fallen until two years latter, much to her anger. It was then I began to care dearly for my nephews, and raise them as best as I could. And now... we only had each other.
"Thorin!" She cried, looking much like the small child she used to be before time took its' toll on her.
She picked her light blue skirts up and raced to my side, a pained smile wrinkling her features slightly. She knelt on the ground close to the short bed I sat in, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap.
I could feel the uneasiness thick in the air between us. We had endured much together, but had argued bitterly more than once in our lives. I could hardly forgive myself for the first time we argued. I was certain Dís hated me, and I would not have blamed her if she told that to my face. It had been on our trip to the Iron Hills just after Smaug's attack. I had blamed our mothers' death on our poor, burned sister, and did not talk to her directly for many years afterward.
But those days had passed, and I needed her comfort now more than anything. With a resolute heart, I reached for my sisters shaking hand and brought it to my cheek, my eyes closing sadly. After a few moments, she brought her other hand to my other cheek, her forehead resting gently with mine. Together we cried until sleep overtook us and we slept nestled in my small bed as we had when we were children.
"...Mahal rest their souls."
"Mahal rest their souls." I muttered quietly with the crowd, my nephews returning to the stone from which Mahal made them.
My company, Dain, Dís and I stood solemnly in the burial chambers. Erebor was being rebuilt, and for the first time since the passing of my grandmother, they were being used. They, of course, were too deep in Erebor to be damaged by the dragon, and my grandmother rested easily in her death-sleep. An empty, ornately designed stone tomb was put next to hers for our grandfather, with their only son and his wife not far from them. My brothers empty tomb was next to mothers, and on the other side of his, Kíli and Fíli took their final slumber for all eternity, and one day, I would lay at their sides.
Looking over the three graves side by side, I thought sadly of how much Frerin would have liked to meet our nephews- he had always had a soft spot for children. I prayed for Mahal to bring my two nephews to rest with their uncle and grandparents.
I was overjoyed to find all of our company intact when I awoke three days after the end of the battle, if not bumped and bruised. Even young Ori boasted of killing a couple of Wargs all his own during the war.
As we began to leave the burial chambers- Dís was staying behind to give her sons a few parting words – I was waylaid by our burglar.
"Thorin... Thorin I'm so sorry." The Hobbit stuttered, unable to bring his worried eyes up to my own, "I never should have-"
I embraced the Hobbit warmly, much to his surprise as he let out a startled grunt, before pulling back once more.
"You need not say anything, friend." I insisted, "You had our best interests in mind."
"That's just it, Thorin." He paused, his eyes searching mine cautiously, "I only had my intentions in mind. I-... I caused this." He motioned into the burial chambers where Dís was whispering to her boys, "I thought that with giving the Arkenstone away would mean no one would... die."
"Bilbo." My eyes narrowed sadly as a seriousness befell my voice, "Whether you had taken the Arkenstone to Laketown or not, someone would have died. I may have died, Bilbo, or Ori, or any of our Company. Death is inevitable in the face of war, dear Hobbit, and my nephews died valiantly for what they believed. I could ask for no more from you. Mahal, if you had not done what you did, we all may have perished."
Bilbo seemed satisfied with that answer, but said no more before he paced off nervously.
Dís emerged from the tombs a moment later, her eyes puffed and red from the crying. She tried to brush them away, however, when she saw my worried eyes fall on her.
"Dís. I owe you an apology. I could not fulfill my promise-" I started, averting my gaze to avoid looking into those blue eyes I thought might turn furious.
"Stop it Thorin." She sighed, stifling a sniff, "They would have followed you even if I had told them not to. They weren't children and they knew what they were doing. They could not bare to see you die, do you know what? They lasted the first two days after the battle.
Fíli was beside himself. He had thrown himself in front of you and slayed Azog, and he thought it all for naught. He thought you were dead, but still guarded you long into the battle, receiving that wound to his neck just before the last of the Orcs fled into the mountains. He wanted-" Dís stopped here, composing herself as her voice became thick with sadness, "-He tried so hard to keep strength. He wanted to make sure you would live, Thorin, even after Kíli had slipped away from us." Her deep blue eyes held tears as she stared into my matching ones, "He died only a few moments before you awoke. He was always so strong... All we can do is pray that they finally meet their father."
With a soft smile, she blinked away the tears and walked around the small group of the Company before disappearing back up the steps to the upper chambers. I had never seen my sister more strong than she had been through this ordeal. It was no surprise where Fíli got his strength.
I clapped my hand on Dwalin's shoulder as I joined the Company all gathered in a circle. Despite the sadness in their hearts, there was still merriment.
"Aye, just wait till the Misses shows up." Bombur was chuckling, his huge gut a rumble, "All nine babes'll enjoy the trip, no doubt."
I felt my brow lift in surprise. Bombur was the last Dwarf I suspected of being father, let alone a father to nine.
A part of my mind began to nag, just in the far reaches of my skull. With Fíli and Kíli gone, I'd need a new heir to the throne. As much as I hated to admit it, I wasn't going to be deathless like Durin.
Well, my friends, that there ends chapter one! I would greatly appreciate some reviews, as I'm not just writing this for myself! If you have any questions, I'll be sure to get back to you!
~The Penned Tekrid
