Chapter 9- Death is upon us

They have finally reached Gundabad. The poor animal beneath them was left a fair distance behind, for no creature with a heart so pure dared venture closer, for the pure evil was seeping from the Mountain crowned with a fortress of stone as red as blood.

Tauriel feared neither death nor evil, for she had seen both and her heart had stayed pure. But the very blood in her veins seemed frozen, and her heart had to double its efforts to pump it through her veins.

Mount Gundabad was quiet. There was no chipper of birds, no whisper of leaves rustled by wind... no sound of the footsteps of the breathing of those who lived. The place was dead and filled with dread, and the dread seemed to fill her with every step she took towards the fortress.

Legolas beside her fell silent. His eyes, usually so bright and full of life, darkened. His shoulders slumped. In all of her years she has not seen her friend look so young and vulnerable.

They approached the smaller hill that stood at fair distance from the fortress. It gave them both cover and a fair sight over the valley before them.

But the silence... The silence was so unnatural. She could hear her own thoughts like silent whispers in her mind that ought to drive her mad. She heard every sound the strands of her hair made against her clothes, the shuffle of fabric against stone. She could feel the heaviness in the air, an unnatural presence of something that by no means should reside amongst the living.

The very bones in her body seemed frozen and for once, she was glad to have been seated and sheltered.

Her friend was lost in thoughts. Better say in memories, memories of nightmares, for his skin paled and his eyes darkened towards deeper shades of grey. The tension of his body was translated onto the air surrounding him, slowly reaching her and making her skin crawl. She had never seen him so... haunted.

She dared not to speak, to disturb his thoughts, for he had so much on his mind... She knew him and she knew him well. When ready, he would speak to her.

This place made her nervous in a way she had not felt ever in her long years. The weight of the runestone in her pocket was overwhelming, dragging her body towards the cold stone beneath. Her mind was as dark as the shadows of the fortress before them, casting darkness over the light, drowning all hope in the fountains of sorrow.

In that dark hour, she could not feel any hope. How could one feel hope when the darkness was spreading its icy fingers towards all light? How could one feel love when death drowned every thought of happiness and future? How could she?

The place itself felt like lair of pure evil. Of deepest darkness that has not been seen in Middle-Earth from the days of old. From the ages when the one they called the Witch King of Angmar ruled these lands and brought nothing but peril and death to those who opposed the rule of the One he served.

Dead he was, but dead he had been long before the fall of Sauron. It was said he fled to the darkness of Mordor after his master fell, to dwell in the shadows and rule over the orcs. None dared to venture and seek out the truth, for the memories of Nazgul were fresh and painful in the minds of men, elves and dwarves.

Ages have passed, ages since the fall of Angmar. Yet still did the fortress carry power unbeknown to a being of a pure heart. Power that sent shivers like icy scratches down the skin of her back. Power of pure evil. For long in the ages that are yet to pass will the lair of the servant of Morgoth carry its taint.

She could not wait to venture into the great distance behind her, towards Erebor, towards Mirkwood. Both places seemed like home now. Mirkwood for all the years she had spent dwelling beneath its trees. Erebor for her heart's greatest joy dwelled somewhere beneath the mountain, hopefully safe and happy, reunited with his kin.

What would be of them, she knew not. But the darkness spreading across the lands before her tainted her mind as well, for she could not have hope in the future. The very view of the lair of evil took all traces of happiness from her soul. She could no longer recall the sweetness of his voice or the depths of his eyes... the roughness of his skin or the soft touch of his hair...

Sinking deeper into despair, she needed to take deep gulps of air that seemed to further intoxicate her soul, for the air around the fortress was heavy.

After hours of silence, what little light had managed to reach the accursed land now hid behind the mountains, leaving them in darkness. Legolas turned to meet her gaze, for she was studying his features closely.

A silent conversation was taking place inside his own head, whether to trust her with what none else knew or to let the little knowledge of his grief fall into depths of his own memory. She bore her heart naked before him and spoke of her love for the dwarf openly, yet still she managed to regain strength and continue on without feeling of lesser worth for someone knew of her weakness.

When he met her eyes, he met the sight of understanding, encouragement and comfort only the truest of friends could offer one another.

"My mother died there." He spoke silently. Tauriel's eyes-widened, for she too never heard of the late Queen's passage. Many of their people remembered not her name. His own father has fallen prisoner to alcohol and isolation far too many times ever since. None now remembered the unconditional love and warmth they held for each-other.

"My father does not speak of it." Oh, how he wished he did. How he wished his father could for once not succumb to the still raw pain eating up his soul and tearing him away. The only reason he had not faded was himself. Legolas needed to be carried for. He could not leave for the Undying lands in pursuit of his bellowed for their son was left to him, no more than an elfling at the time.

Oh, how Legolas wished to remember the sound of her voice. The look of her face. Anything. Anything at all. But she was just a memory that would venture into the back of his mind during slumber and he would so desperately try to grasp it, only to reach it, touch it slightly with the tips of his fingers and watch it fade.

"There is no grave... No memory... Nothing..." It took him another look into Tauriel's eyes to realize he had spoken those words out loud. Tears that would not be spilled welled in her eyes, for she felt the grief of her friend as her own.

After moments of heavy silence that none wished to break, a loud sound was heard from the fortress. Very soon, legions of orcs swarmed the valley, the aim of their swords targeting one place-Erebor.

Coldness spread through her. Something akin to the deepest of fears engulfed her, for she knew what was to follow. The dread that had been eating up her soul and pulling her towards despair has finally shown its face.

Kili...

Legolas met her eyes and could not hold his hand from travelling to her shoulder and giving her a reassuring squeeze. An offer of comfort he knew he could not provide. Not when he had to shatter her hope even further.

"There will be another army coming from the south. Gundabad is not their stronghold. This army is being sent to finish what another one might have already started."

Her eyes widened and her face fell. But none was reflecting the screaming that echoed through her mind.

"They have to be warned." She whispered.

Her friend only nodded. Was he as afraid as her, she did not know. But she feared the days, the hours that were before her. For she knew they would bring nothing but death and ruin.

They mounted the horse and galloped their way back, with dread in their minds and hope in their hearts.

People of Lake-town would have already reclaimed the ruins of Dale. And dwarves were all at the Mountain. Would she live to see them all die?

So many poor souls, so many innocent lives... Many of them might already be lost...

She could not feel sorry for defying her King's orders even before, but at that moment she knew she would have hated herself for all the ages before her if she had not gone. With each victory, the evil in this world grew, and she knew in her heart they had already let it grow far too much.

The orcs had to be stopped. Their foul shields needed to be shattered and their cursed flesh pierced.

Legolas informed her earlier of Thranduil's forces departing for the Mountain, so she felt another weight on her heart for her own people were in danger of the darkness. But they had to fight.

They had to fight the evil surrounding them, for all of the races of Middle-Earth had to be united once and for all against the enemy.

But still, she could not feel selfish for thinking of her one in that hour of darkness. Her heart bled when she felt the weight of the runestone on her chest.

Kili...


When the first light appeared on the horizon, they rose and approached the wall, the barrier dividing them and those who dared to challenge.

Indeed, elves in golden armours filled the valley before Erebor. Their number was great, but an army of any number would have an advantage before a company of thirteen dwarves and one hobbit.

The leader of the force, Thranduil, and Bard the Dragonslayer on his side, were approaching the mountain. A smaller number of humans could be seen on the right flank, for they had also taken to arms in demand of what was rightfully theirs. Everyone wanted a share of treasure.

Kili could understand that, and knew it was somewhat expected, but he hadn't thought war would be fought over it. He would have gladly given Thranduil his blasted gems and people of Lake-town what was promised. There was more than enough and that thought had crossed his mind more times than necessary.

But the decision and the rule of Erebor was not up to him, but their King, Thorin, who stood proudly before them, as if inviting the two leaders to dare and come closer. When they indeed have, an arrow pierced the air and landed between Thranduil and Bard, marking the furthest spot they would claim.

Thorin would not give up. Not even before armies of men and elves. He just stood there, a daring smirk on his lips. Nothing Thranduil or Bard could do to agitate his spirit into reaction.

Until... Until Kili laid his eyes on the King's Jewel for the first time in his life. The Arkenstone. Big and shiny it was, a majestic heirloom of his Line. The one gem which would bestow upon a true son of Durin the right to call on all the Seven tribes of dwarves. Their birthright.

In the hands of Bard the Dragonslayer.

An unexplainable anger flashed through his body, for the sight of betrayal and dishonour flamed his blood. How dared he? Who was he, Bard the Bowman, to take that which was rightfully theirs?

"Thieves!" His angered voice echoed throughout the valley. He felt Bard's eyes on himself, the man probably realized for the first time the one he had harboured in his home was a royal dwarf. "How came you by the heirloom of our House?"

He wanted to strangle the man with his own hands. What a disrespect to the Line of Durin! To their King before them! He wanted to slay each and every one of them...

How did they get the gem, he would have never guessed on his own. Bilbo Baggins. The little hobbit of the Shire would betray them in such manner? It was hardly possible to even think of. His heart bled, for the little one had grown in his heart, and he had held him in the highest of places. He had thought of him as of the closest of friends.

Thorin's reaction was what brought him to his senses, for if his uncle had ever fallen into the darkest depths of golden sickness, it was in that hour. Fili and himself had to join forces to stop him from throwing the poor hobbit from the wall.

What he realized at that moment was the influence the Arkenstone held over him and his brother both. For a moment, their judgements had been clouded, and if it were not for the hobbit, they would not see it.

All Bilbo wanted was to save them all. To lead Thorin into a place where he could no longer endanger their lives. He could feel no anger for the hobbit, for he had, as he always had before, thought of nothing but their wellbeing.

Thorin let him go. The rest of the company sent him silent apologies with nothing but their eyes, for the hobbit grew on them and they counted him as one of their own. Thorin would not see to it. The betrayal hurt him too deep, but all he could see was still the gold.

The question was fairly simple. "Will you have peace or war?"

Thorin did not falter. "I will have war."

The word had reached them moments ago, and at that hour, the arrival of their kin from the Iron Hills was heard. Lord Dain, Thorin's cousin, was bringing a force amongst the fiercest in the Middle-Earth. The Ironfoot has arrived.

Cheers were heard amongst their kin and Kili was happy to see them. Thranduil would not dare to attack Erebor, they would not risk open war against the dwarves.

It was what he thought before both armies called to arms.

A fear as old as life itself seeped into his bones, for he felt death nearing. Surely, he would die. By the hand of an elf, no less. His love appeared before his eyes and he feared he would not see her ever again.

Curious it was, maybe Mahal was sending him a message. Maybe their love and his hope were so wrong the very Forger of life had to intervene and stop it. But he could not care for he would do it a hundred times over.

He could only hope she was as far away as possible, not being dragged into war against him and his kin, for he would dare to raise his sword against any elf, man or even dwarf that would put her in harm's way.

He could only hope she was locked in a cell in Mirkwood. For it would mean she could not be here. Not here, where the very world was ending. Not here, where former allies raised arms against each other, while more evil forces were moving in the shadows towards them.

He met Fili's gaze and saw the same fear that engulfed him completely. But seeing his brother afraid brought a bit of courage to him, for he felt he was not alone.

It was the hour the sons of Durin would stand against all to protect what was theirs. To protect their ancient home and the heart of their Kingdom. He could not feel sorry, even if his heart told him the war with the elves was wrong. He could not feel sorry, for Durin's own blood warmed his veins, and rallied his heart to his kin.

Clouds have hidden the pale winter sun, rather spilling icy snow over the lands. Shadows moved on the south. For a moment, Kili's senses dulled and he could hear no more voices of his kin beside him. He could hear not but for the sound of his heart in his ears.

He felt it. He felt the pull from the hills before them. He felt the shadows moving through stone, conquering it as if it were mere air. His view seemed to sharpen, deluding his senses, and focusing on the stone before him.

The stone darkened and soon enough, it was breached. Swarms of orcs pushed onwards, towards them and the armies before them. An army that seemed to be risen from the depths of hell itself was swarming the land, turning it into blackness of an impending doom that slowly, but steadily sharpened its face.

And he could feel it. The poison still lingered in his blood and a shadow in his mind. He could feel the pull of darkness and death.

Yet all he could still sense was only the rush of his own blood in his veins. There was no sound, no touch, no smell...

His dream from only hours past vividly played before his eyes, even if he tried his best to push it into the shadowy depths of where dreams belonged. But it was not a dream... It was so very real.

Their home, their Kingdom... Reclaimed so recent by the measure of earthly time, yet as far away as when talked of from the distance of the Blue Mountains. For home of so few days still did not feel as home, and enemy was moving as the Durin's Bane itself towards them, fierce and unforgiving.

He could not see his kinsmen from the Iron Hills rallying to Dain, nor the elves joining the fight in a manner that would be sung of in years to come. He could not hear Thranduil command his armies to protect the valley and the city, nor Bard the Dragonslayer leading the men towards Dale.

He was briefly aware of his brother calling their company on arms and Thorin stopping them. He was slightly aware of the twitch his warrior-heart felt in wish of joining the battle himself.

All his eyes saw was the Ravenhill. Mighty and tall it stood before him. Black stone covered in dust and snow.

And all his heart felt was a pull towards it.


AN: Hi, my dear readers! I've finished this chapter a few days ago, but I couldn't upload it, don't know why :/

Anyway, I hope you liked it. I've gotten some really nice reviews since the last chapter and they always inspire me to write more.

I've decided to focus entirely on Kili's perception and reaction to what was happening at that moment. There's so much left unsaid, but... I liked the idea of him somehow feeling the shadows approaching. I believe that Morgul poison cannot be entirely drawn out from the body, there's always a shadow remaining. Frodo's reaction to the Witch King of Angmar in front of Minas Morgul inspired me, the moment he said he could feel his blade... That's why i believe Kili would have also felt something, and of course, I've exaggerated it as much as I could have ;)

As for Legolas and Tauriel, I kinda liked that part of the chapter better, I have a feeling it's somewhat better written. First I wanted to write it all from Tauriel's perspective, but I just HAD to get a bit into his head as well. You've probably realized I love writing about feelings -.-

I hope you'll share your thoughts again! Feel free to tell me what you liked AND what you didn't like! And you can always PM me if you don't want to write in the comment section.

As I've said before, I don't have the time to answer all your beautiful comments in person, so I'll just have to thank you this way.

Thank you for reading!

Cheers!