Chapter Four

Third Age 2799 The East Gate of Moria

It had been almost twenty years since Erebor fell to the dragon Smaug. That time had not been kind to Durin's folk. They skimped by on the small amount of coin they gathered selling pieces of armor, weapons, and trinkets in various towns. Their hardships as wanderers added to their desperation in searching for a new home. It also added to their fierceness in battle. They longed for a place to call home. In their efforts to find one many had died. The Misty Mountains had become an option and would have been passed over because of the rumors of the evil that still lurked in its depths. They would have traveled on had Thror, their king not been slain there ten years ago by a pale orc.

For the ten years that followed the beheading of their king, the dwarves were led by his son and heir, Thrain. He championed them with determination into the many skirmishes that took place through the caverns of the Misty Mountains in an effort to smoke out the pale orc. Azog they called him. He was the foul beast that organized the battles. Ten years of winning and losing in an effort to bring justice to the one that would kill their king with such cruelty. It had finally culminated in the battle they now fought; the battle that would soon be known as the Battle of Azanulbizar.

Thorin realized, long ago, that the thoughts that ran through his mind during battle were few. All thoughts were based in survival of self and the few kinsmen that fought alongside him. Perhaps there was even an ounce of strategy in the mix. There was also something to be said in using vengeance as fuel through a battle, though it was unwise to do so. The death of his grandfather gave him plenty and when faced with little left to lose it was welcome company. It dulled the pain and weariness. It had taken so long to gather an army large enough to face the forces of Azog directly that Thorin thought his vengeance had faded. Upon seeing a smug Azog reveal himself it was renewed and led him to take up an oaken branch to replace his shattered shield and lead his army with vigor.

Still, they had been too few in number to fight the orcs back. It was not until Nain and his son, Dain, arrived with reinforcements from the Iron Hills that any progress was made. Thorin was there when his cousins arrived, though his father and brother were fighting in the woods, he had no idea if they were witness to Nain falling at the hands of Azog. It was not Thorin then that exacted his vengeance but Dain. Dain beheaded the pale orc with a mighty blow, avenging his father and turning the tide of battle.

Victory had arrived but with heavy losses. The otherwise pristine white of the winter snowfall was muddied and red with the blood of the many that had fallen. As the sounds of battle turned to those of grief, Thorin felt his own strength begin to leave him. So many dwarves had fallen in battle that they could never entomb them all as was their custom. They would have to be burned. His heart was heavy and his mind went numb. Soon all that he could feel were his wounds that appeared to be numerous. Thorin made his way through the battlefield and back to camp. He was not sure if it was his wounds or exhaustion that made him stumble about and collapse, but he readily embraced the blessed darkness that waited there.

How long the darkness lasted he could not be sure. Now he was in a place of dreams. A place he had dreaded being since the night before the dragon attacked his home. Always they were unpleasant, vile places to be. They kept the pains in his life close to the surface in his waking hours and he despised them. This dream was different. There was nothing foul about it. The sun shined brightly in the clearing and filtered through the needles of the pine trees surrounding him. The scent of wildflowers and grass was in the gentle breeze and the faint buzz of a bee could be heard as it went about its work. He waited for it all to catch fire, turning to a place filled with death. When it did not he explored his dreamscape with caution.

A figure approached causing a memory from his youth to flash in his mind; the memory of a woman that saved his life and that of his siblings that fateful day when the dragon came. This figure glided into the clearing. The silver color of the cloak sparking in the sunlight, the hood casting a shadow over a face that Thorin hoped would be one he had longed to see again. The face of one he mourned as dead. Feeling a frown cross his brow, he wondered if this might not be a dream at all. Maybe he had succumb to his wounds and passed into the next life. It was then the hood was pushed back by delicate hands and revealed a face he had never forgotten; one that he could see clearly through the distance of clearing and the fog of dreams.

Time had left her untouched but for a couple of more strands of silver in her hair. Her eyes were just as fascinating as he remembered, sparkling with jewel tones. Her nose was more prominent than he remembered her mouth perhaps a bit larger than it should have been. It was a long time ago when last he saw her face and then he was so young and not as observant.

"I am dead then?" Thorin asked when she was but an arm's length from him. Tension filled his body at the thought and warred with long forgotten feelings that echoed through his heart upon sight of her beautiful face. He was weary with the toil of his life and providing what he could for his people. He could not deny that the afterlife looked hopeful if that was indeed where he was. At the same time regret and dread filled him because he had failed his people.

"Nay. You are feverish though," her voice sounded as musical and soft as he remembered a gentle caress on the breeze. "Do not fret, this is but a dream."

Some of the tension left his body only to be replaced with a familiar sorrow. "This is a pleasant dream but it serves only to renew an old pain in my heart when I wake," he said, anger filled his voice to disguise the old hurt of her loss and that of his home. It was through gritted teeth he said, "You passed long ago." Thorin turned his back to her. He could not bear the sight of her. He hated himself for letting her enter the mountain, only to never come out again like so many others. There was a bit of anger for her as well, for doing something so foolish. To this day he was still unsure as to how his father and grandfather escaped alive.

"No. I yet remain," she assured him. When he turned around and gave her his attention again she continued, "I am just far away. I have been unable to find you until today. So many perished…" Amarien trailed off. It was plain to see she was holding something back, debating it perhaps. Thorin remained silent waiting to see if she would finish. She thought better of it and instead said, "I know where you are now. Will this be your home?"

"No. Dain warns that a Balrog still resided in the depths of Moria." Thorin answered stepping closer to her. "What were you going to say Amarien?" It was a command. She tried to move away from him, but he grabbed her wrist before she could. He would have her answer.

There was a flash of surprise in her eyes, "You have lost all the innocence of your youth and for that I am sorry." Amarien jerked her arm from him, "Do not let bitterness take up residence in you, my lord. You will do better without it." She tried to walk away from him but he would not let her. With speed he knew he would not posses upon waking he moved to block her path.

"My bitterness is none of your concern, nor do I expect you to understand it as you have not been with me," Thorin said as he caught himself grinding his teeth and tried with dismal results to relax his jaw. Taking a deep breath he tried again, "Please tell me."

Amarien gave a rueful laugh, "And add further fuel to your fire then?" she wrapped the folds of her cloak tighter around her and took determined strides away from him, "you will find out upon waking."

"Amarien!" Thorin shouted at her as he trailed behind barely managing to grab her again. This dream was starting to fade and he did not want it to end. "I am sorry." She paused and looked back at him. "If I had a choice I would hear news from you over others I know, no matter how bad," he said with honesty, not realizing how true it was until the words passed his lips. Perhaps things would have been better throughout the years if she was by his side. She made him want to be better than he was.

Her stop was so abrupt Thorin almost ran into her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him down into the grass along with her. There she sat for a few silent moments looking around the clearing. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke, "Your father was gravely wounded. He lost an eye and may lose his leg. He yet lives," she finished looking at him with a reassuring, but watery smile. She looked away and squeezed his hand harder, "Your brother was not so fortunate."

Thorin's body slumped; that all too familiar feeling of his heart being squeezed filled him. Frerin was gone. Somehow even in his dream state, he knew it to be true. She had no reason to lie to him and he was familiar enough with his dreams to know even if Amarien was not a part of it, he would have seen the death of his brother in a nightmare and it would be true.

There was a mournful cry in the clearing but it was sometime later that Thorin recognized it as his own. Never had he allowed himself to breakdown in such a fashion. He had to be strong, a constant rock, so those around him would not despair. He had to be a leader. It was not just the death of his brother in that sound, but the death of his grandfather and other kinsman. The loss of his home and the hardships of his proud people; everything was in that sound. In the back of his mind he was thankful it was all but a dream.

Amarien had pulled his head down into her lap and was absently running her fingers threw his hair in an effort to comfort him. She was humming a soft tune to him, trying to pull him from his sorrow. It was some time later that she stopped and long after his despair was spent that she spoke, "Where will you go?"

"I am not sure, perhaps further west," Thorin said, loath to move from his position and have reality come back with a vengeance.

"You will wake soon," Amarien said, encouraging him to stand up. When he did not move she took care in pulling herself out from underneath him and stood above him with a soft smile. "I will do my best to find you."

"I thought you already had," Thorin asked, confusion knitting his brow. Then her lips moved but he could not hear. A mist rolled through the clearing getting thicker and obscuring her from his view. He tried to call out to her, but could not hear his own voice. All he heard was the voice of Balin calling to him. Soon there was nothing but darkness, the dream over and reality encroaching.

Thorin acknowledged the dream was over when pain snuck up on him causing a moan to escape his lips. "Aye, he is waking!" a voice boomed. It sounded like Dain. "Quick, Balin, get something strong for him to drink." Then a little quieter he said, "He is going to need it."

Opening his eyes, Thorin first saw his father not far from him. A patch over his eyes and he left leg heavily bandaged. He looked as if he was sleeping though lines of pain were etched around his mouth. He closed his eyes again and tried to assess his own injuries. His shield arm was plainly broken that much he could tell. Before he could get further Dain began recounting his injuries,

"Aye, your arm is broken, how you managed to wield even that branch as a shield is beyond me. You have a few gashes, the worst of which on your right thigh, though the infection has cleared." Dain said. Thorin opened his eyes again and looked into the still young if battle worn face above him.

"Your beard has finally grown in," Thorin croaked, his throat dry.

"Aye," Dain said with a quick stroke of said beard. "It is good to see you cousin, though I hoped it would be under better circumstances."

"Frerin?" Thorin questioned, though he knew the answer when there was a heavy silence.

At length Dain replied, "Awaiting you and Thrain to set his pyre ablaze."

It was later that evening that Thrain woke. With the help from Dain they managed to get him outside and to Frerin's pyre. Thorin was numb to his many pains by that point whether it was from the various brews he guzzled or the torment of his own emotions he was not sure. He could not bring himself to say any words on his brothers' behalf. The grief was still too near. He simply grabbed the torch from Balin's hand and approached the pyre. Snow had begun to fall in large flakes, making it difficult to see. "Farewell brother," Thorin said locking his jaw as regret filled him. "I am sorry I was not there." In the next moment the pyre was set ablaze, lighting up the sky and melting the snow before the flakes could hit the ground.

A/N: Please let me know your likes and dislikes, as well as any questions, concerns, or comments as all those things help better the story. There is one more chapter before Amarien and Thorin are finally reunited and their romance can blossom. I hope to have that one up tomorrow.

Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favorites! As to the one review that I could not message by reika88 all I can say is that we will get there as to what Amarien is, but I can say she is not the daughter of Aule but a good guess.