A scream cut through the night, cleaving into the cold air and waking the sleeping adventurers. Thorin woke with a start, and his lifetime of fighting experience served him well as his first instinct was to yank his sword out of its scabbard and slit the throat of the creature about to attack him. He stood, ignoring the corpse as it crumpled beside him in a twisted heap. Another leaped at him, brandishing a knife, and he cut it down just as easily as the first. In an instant, Dwalin was beside him, sword in hand. Together they fought off the last few assailants, who they realized when they tossed one into the dying embers of the fire while it howled in pain, were goblins.

"They must have come from deeper in the cave."

Dwalin suggested, and Thorin grunted in affirmation, slicing an arm off another snarling goblin. They had checked it out the night before, but the caverns led far into the mountain and so the travelers had not investigated the entire structure… It had been a grave mistake. One which was, fortunately, quickly remedied by the dwarves and their slashing blades. Telchar stood at back of the cave, striking down the last few of the coarse, deformed creatures as they scampered off into the darkness. It had been a small party of raiders, but they would no doubt return with greater numbers now that they had found intruders in their domain.

"Th –Thorin.."

The dwarf spun around towards the broken call, his heart stopping in his chest.

"Evie!"

He cried out, falling to her side. She was trembling, her small hands pressed against her abdomen in a frantic attempt to put pressure on her fresh wound. The dying fire cast just enough light on the blonde to make the blood spilling through her fingers shine in the darkness. It took less than an instant to realize what had happened – her sword, the one he had given her, lay discarded at her side. The blade was decorated with goblin blood, and its owner's corpse crumpled beside it – but the attacker had accomplished his task, for the hobbit was badly injured.

"No.."

Thorin whispered desperately, his hands hovering above her wound while he tried to think of what to do. His breath caught in his throat; the dwarf prince wrestled with paralyzing fear which rose within him like a plague. He had never felt anything like it before – not anger, not vengeance, just pure and unadulterated terror for what was to come, muddling his senses and making him panic. Her blood was everywhere, it was already on him, on his fingers – the sight of the thick red substance made him grow cold inside.

"Help…" She fought to speak, moving one of her hands to reach out beside her, "in my bag… A ga –green vial… And one… it's white, but mo –" she rasped, struggling to make each sound, "more milky than the oth –others…"

Her eyes slipped closed, and Thorin had to shake her to keep her awake. Searing pain spread through her belly, shooting up and down the rest of her aching figure and lighting her flesh on fire. A pleasant haziness threatened to steal her consciousness and she resisted with all her strength, trying ineffectively to keep it at bay. Searching frantically through her things, Thorin finally found a set of potions, bound together in a thick leather case. Telchar crouched at his side, ready to assist if he was needed, his face pulled into an expression of horror which made the other dwarf's heart sink in his chest. Dwalin stood back, leaving them space and guarding the group against another attack.

Thorin found what he thought must be the milky vial she had spoken of and held it up to her to see. She nodded, blinking furiously to try to keep her vision clear. Evie battled with a heaviness that consumed her body, making her limbs weigh three times as much as they should and sapping her strength more and more by the minute. The healer knew she did not have long – they would have to move quickly or she would be lost. And even then…

"On the wound…"

She mumbled, fading fast. Thorin opened the vial and tore the cloth of her dress away from the laceration's surface before placing the salve on the gash and spreading it with quivering fingers. The dwarf's hands were always steady – in battle, at the smith… He had never experienced the inadequacy he felt now, leaning over the dying hobbit and hoping upon Durin's life that these balms would save her.

Telchar passed him the other vial, filled with something more liquid than the last and tinted green, and Evie struggled to give them instructions.

"O –Ope…"

He guessed at her meaning and snapped the top off the vial. She extended her hand as if to take it, but he did not trust her strength and feared she might drop the precious potion. He placed it in her hand, following her movements and guiding the bottle to her mouth. Evie drank it and he let the little glass vessel fall to the stone floor with a clatter. She closed her eyes again, swallowing. Although it was clear she was trying to endure, the hobbit began to cough violently, sputtering and choking on each breath. Grim agony lined her face as she writhed, battling her failing body for control and losing.

Thorin's wide blue eyes searched her face for signs of improvement – this must work; it was their only hope… Evangeline's half lidded gaze met his and her lips tugged up at the edges, belittling his concern even as she hissed in pain. Thorin pulled her into his arms, holding her as she tried to talk. His hand went to her face, sweeping her golden hair out of her eyes and raising her head so that it came to rest upon his shoulder. Her trembling fingers moved languidly up to brush his cheek but could not complete the motion, she was waning too quickly. The dwarf took her hand in his, kissing the top of it with anxious tenderness. He could not restrain the artless sob that echoed onto the soft skin of her hand, so clearly betraying him.

"Evangeline.."

He whispered, his throat tight, constricting with inescapable dread.

"Eh –everything will… be all – alright..."

She gasped, trying to reassure him despite her rapidly deteriorating condition. Her breathing grew shallower with each broken inhalation, a pallor falling upon her typically rosy cheeks. A shadow hung around her like a veil, obscuring the light which used to live in her eyes even as it wrestled against death itself to remain.

"I should be the one helping you, not the other way around."

Her dark eyelashes fluttered as she fought to look up at him; their eyes met and she managed a weak smile, feeling the sudden weight of everything that had passed between them since that bewildering moment in Moria. Her eyes were glossy, whether from pain or sadness Thorin could not guess. The grip of her hand in his weakened, and the dwarf's tightened in response. He was not ready to let go of her, he refused to let her die… There was something shining in Evie's tired gaze that broke his heart, made him sharply regret the personal fortitude and strict sense of duty which had kept them apart. If only he had expressed his feelings to her, explained himself… He had never been stirred by a female before, and meeting Evangeline had changed his entire world – the stinging loss he had experienced in his life had only been countered by the precious hope he kept hidden, secreted away in his heart, for a future free of that loss. She was the only person who had made him believe that such a future could ever come to pass, and he knew he could share it only with her.

"Thor –in, I –"

She began, but these were words which would never be spoken. Evangeline shuddered, choking on one final unfinished breath before her body went limp in his arms.

"No… No, Evangeline –"

He could not complete his own thought as his hand released hers, moving to her face and tilting it to try and wake her up. He moved her shoulder, shifting her body in his arms as he shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest so hard that it rang in his ears. The blood roaring through his veins and the haziness clouding his vision offered the tantalizing prospect that this was all a dream, that it wasn't real. It couldn't be real… His fingers moved to her neck, checking her heartbeat… There was nothing – no movement, no response to the wild thumping of his own heart, nothing to suggest there was any chance – Thorin cried out, completely losing himself as terrible, excruciating loss consumed all conscious thought. He pressed his lips to the golden crown of her head, closing his eyes as grief overwhelmed him like an oppressive, unmediated deluge.

"I am so sorry…"

He whispered pitifully into her silky blonde hair, his voice cracking in his throat. He had not protected her; he had been right beside her when she was injured, asleep and completely oblivious. This was all his fault – her death was on his hands and he would never wash the blood off them. She was his greatest hope and his greatest fear, and now she was gone.

How long the dwarf prince knelt there, wretchedly cradling Evie's lifeless body, he had no sense of. Nothing seemed to matter for that moment, especially not the slow inevitability of time. Time would come as it would, just like fate, and if this was his, the dwarf was not sure he could bear it.

.

"Telchar."

Thorin's voice was deep in his throat, and the other dwarf jumped at the sound which broke the long silence that had hung in the cave with funereal stillness.

"Yes?"

He asked meekly, preparing for the worst. He knew exactly what Thorin's next words would be, and he only hoped the prince would not attach the punishment he had incontestably merited.

"Why were you not on watch? You should have seen the approach of the goblins and warned us of their coming… If you had been on watch as you were bound to, she would not have…"

There was something far more painful in the way the dwarf lord's words trailed off rather than admit to her death than there would have been in a physical blow. Telchar's brow knit together, feeling acutely the agony of his companion and lacking the proper words to defend himself, if there were any. His eyes shone with shame and his own sense of loss – Evie was a friend, a companion…

"No apology could possibly – I… I fell asleep.."

He stuttered, watching as Thorin's hand clenched into a fist, rage quaking in every muscle despite the weariness of his anguished mourning. His sharp blue eyes were still trained on the hobbit, however, and his fist broke in defeat as he set her down where she had been previously sleeping, realizing as he did that the stone floor of the cave was stained with her blood. She was already covered in it, as was he, so little harm could be done now. The dwarf found it hard to stand, his legs unwilling to support him and the blood rushing to his head. He held onto the cavern wall, steadying himself and closing his eyes.

"They will return in greater numbers. We must leave this place."

Dwalin spoke for the first time. Thorin Oakenshield took a deep, troubled breath, nodding and then moving to collect his things and load the ponies. They had been lucky – the goblins had only managed to steal one of the ponies in their raid – the dwarves had dispersed them before any great damage could be done. It was obvious that they could still continue as planned with only three, now that they had one less member of their company, but no one dared suggest such a thing.

Thorin collected Evie's stationary figure and laid her over the front of his pony, carefully draping her heavy limbs over the top of the saddle so that he could support her limp form once they were riding. Telchar opened his mouth to speak, but Dwalin silenced him before the mistake could be made. There was no use – Thorin was grieving and he could not be convinced to act any differently than he would.

"We will take her to the next town."

The prince said softly, his words barely audible. The other two nodded, saddling up their ponies and leading them to safety. Thorin took one last look back at the empty cave, the lump in his throat growing as his eyes focused on the pool of blood where Evie had been sleeping peacefully only an hour before. Dead goblins littered the cave floor, their bodies twisted around each other and hacked to pieces. He only wished he had killed more of them, or that he could take vengeance on their clan… But revenge would lead to nothing, and Evie would not have desired such a thing. Goblins were petty, foul creatures, and no amount of reprisal could change their habits. The dwarves had been fools to sleep in the cave, despite its seclusion. They had not checked the entire structure; they had thoughtlessly lit a fire… Thorin cursed himself for his senselessness, his mental self –flagellation only beginning. He climbed onto his pony, biting back emotion as he held onto Evangeline's unresponsive body and urged the company forward into the night.

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The darkness went on for miles with no light brimming on the horizon line. For Thorin it was an endless night, absent any light from the stars, which were obscured by a thick layer of cloud, or the moon, which was only a pale silver sliver of its whole self. He empathized with its loss – he felt like only a splinter of himself. He felt Dwalin's eyes on him as they rode forward but ignored his friend's inquisitive gaze. The future king knew he had given his companion cause for surprise, but he could not muster the vigor to attend to his questions. And if he did, what answers could he give? How could he explain his relationship with Evangeline, how could he make sense of his feelings for her? She was like no other he had ever known. How could he reconcile his duties and his desires to his friend if he could not do such a thing even to himself? Yet these reservations held little significance, now. Evie would live on only in memory, and the hope the dwarf had nurtured of a future free of the terrible bondage of his guilt seemed now only like a distant fantasy.

They followed the main road, and each steady clomp of the ponies' hooves striking the earth felt heavier than the last. The very air was somber around them, and no creature could be heard for miles around. Or perhaps he simply did not notice them. Thorin was inconsolable; the devastation of her loss pressing in on him from all sides as though he was trapped, screaming, underwater, and without any way to reach the surface. In appearance he seemed only stoic, his face drawn with heavy lines of grief, but to one who knew the dwarf, it was clear that he was irretrievably lost.

Dwalin did not know what to do – he had seen his friend distraught, oppressed by the weight of his anguish, only once before – in the aftermath of the Battle of Azanulbizar every dwarf was united in misery, and none felt it more than the grandson of Thrór. He had not worn his distress as many of the others had deigned to do, as even Dwalin and his brother Balin had… For Thorin there were no tears, no clear spectacles of sorrow. His life as a king had begun with the quiet incensement of debilitating grief, and Evangeline's death now became only the most recent wound upon a body already marred by tragedy. Dwalin wished there was something to be done for his companion, but the dwarf did not know any remedy for such a deep injury. There was nothing he could do – and their healer was dead.

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Author's Note: I know every time I post on here I say thank you for your comments and share how important they are to me, but I really can't stress it enough. You are all such wonderful, supportive people, and you inspire me to keep writing and to take the time to make this story what I want it to be. It's hard for me to find time for myself and my writing since I'm really busy with school and work, and your comments and support encourage me to do it- I can't thank you enough for that. Anndddd… I hope this chapter doesn't upset anyone too much. I wanted to spice things up a little (I've been planning on doing this for some time now…). But before you get too concerned, I ask that you give me a day or two to get the next chapter up… I think it might assuage some of your worries. ;) Much love to you all!