Elya was found hobbling slowly and painfully across the battlefield by an elf gathering the dead. He said something in Sindarin, shocked by the state of her, and she could only give him a trembling smile.
"Please, could you take me to the king?" she requested, feeling as though any moment she would collapse. If Kili was going to be anywhere, it would be with his Uncle. "Thorin Oakenshield?" The elf's eyes filled with a pity, one she didn't understand, and he knelt and asked for permission to carry her.
The elf made better time than she ever could, and when she caught sight of a familiar hat, she cried out. "Gandalf!"
He turned to her, and relief passed through his eyes. "Oh, Elya, I'm glad you're alright."
"Elya?" Dwalin stuck his head out the tent flap, eyes red. He looked like he had been crying. Elya's short term relief and happiness burst like a bubble, and when the elf set her gently down on her feet, she was already reaching up to Dwalin's face.
"What's wrong?" she asked, "What has happened?" That bad feeling came back, nearly choking her. He only shook his head.
Dwalin stood aside for her to enter, and immediately Elya could smell death. Thorin lay, pale and sweating on a cot, his wounds only covered by a white sheet rather than being tended to. Bilbo knelt by him, sobbing, both hands holding onto Thorin's one large one. Balin stood, one hand covering his eyes, and Dain wasn't far from him, standing tall and stone faced. Even King Thranduil stood, joined by Gandalf, silent in the corner. He had no visible injuries, but the weight of his aura told of many deep hurts in his heart.
Grief was palpable.
"Thorin?" Elya whispered, unsure of her welcome. Just the sight of the proud king laid low brought tears to her eyes, but she felt she had to control them, for now.
"Elya." Thorin rasped, apparently done with whatever he had passed to Bilbo, who bowed his head and wiped his face as best he could.
Elya tried to smile, though it mostly felt like a twitch of her lips. "I think that's the first time I've heard you say my name." She couldn't stand anymore, sinking onto her knees.
Thorin was in pain, she could see it in his eyes, but he swallowed and looked at her with such softness it sent something sharp shooting through her chest.
"You deserved it, long ago." He shuddered in a breath, and the rattle of his chest shook her. The white space in the back of her mind pulsed, and started to grow. "I can only ask your forgiveness, for my deeds against you, though I cannot offer atonement beyond my words here. I believe I watched the price of my greed being struck down in front of me." The pain in his eyes was twofold, and he heaved in air after such a long sentence.
"Thorin." Balin tried to say, eyes wet and voice shaking. Thorin hushed him with a twitch of his hand, and Elya wondered why she felt so light, as the buzz in her mind extended to fill her head, her ears and eyes and nose, travelling down her neck.
"You mean…" She asked, afraid. "Fili, and Kili? Where are they?" She looked at them all, desperate for something good, something kind in this midst of all this.
"In the tent over." Dwalin said, voice thick, "Worse than he." Worse than Thorin...did that...did that mean?
"No." Elya whispered, agony searing through her heart despite the odd feeling of the light filling her body. It travelled onward, crawling out across her collar bones and working its way into her hands. The pain of her foot was forgotten in the face of her loss, the shine of Kili's eyes, his smile flashing in her mind. The blonde of Fili's hair. The roughness of their calluses, the brightness of their souls.
"Yes." Thorin said, eyes growing misty and far-seeing. He was failing. "It is the end of Durin's line."
Like an arrow to the chest, Elya felt his words deep within her soul. She must have made a noise, because suddenly everyone was looking at her, she could feel the rest of the company slowly gathering outside the two tents. She could feel Fili in the other tent, slowly falling towards the darkness of Mando's halls, tired and accepting. And Kili, struggling to stay afloat like one who knew the value of the air in his lungs, who could feel the crushing emptiness below. He was slowing as well, and her heart burned for her love.
"Elya, my dear?" Gandalf said to her, the wizard a powerful light amid the rest of them. "Are you feeling well?"
Elya didn't feel much of anything, the light had filled her totally and she knew now that this was the moment of her purpose. This was why she had been given life.
"I am, Olorin." Elya said, her voice doubled as though speaking with many. "You were right."
"I was?" He asked, bemused and a little amazed. Elya stood, her foot no longer paining her. The light within amplified, vibrated, filled her to the brim and she absently heard Dwalin startle behind her.
"By my beard!" Dain swore, jumping back and seizing his hammer up in his hands.
"She's glowing like the sun," came an awed voice from the tent flap. Ori, sweet, young Ori, whose voice was filled with something near reverence.
"No, don't touch her." Thranduil broke in, eyes fixed on the glowing girl standing at the foot of Thorin's bed, as though waiting. "She is filled with the Valar's might, do not touch her." Balin retreated from where he had been about to reach for her shoulder.
Thorin stirred from his repose, eyes sharpening just enough to center on her and stare, shocked.
"You are to die today, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Durin." Elya spoke, her voice reverberating with power. It silenced them all, wizard, elf, and dwarf.
"So too, are your heirs to die today. Fili and Kili, sons of Dis." Elya knew she was speaking words, she couldn't understand them, but she knew every word to leave her mouth was truth, even though it hurt her to the bone.
"Your line ends, and Dain son of Nain becomes King under the Mountain." Elya continued, images flickering across her eyes but with no meaning attached to them. "The Dwarves recede into their halls, the elves into their woods, the men into their cities. But when the Great End comes, the rise of the One who sent these Hordes to your gate," Elya swept out a hand, and knew they understood her gesture to mean all of the Orcs, wargs, battle bats, all the evil that lay dead around them, Gandalf straightened, and he suddenly didn't look like an old man anymore. He was something more, a light in his eyes that burned with immortality and power beyond the physical.
"When the end is nigh, it is Men, and Elves, and Hobbits who stand up and fight. It is Hobbits, the Small Folk, which show their true strength." Elya looked, almost without seeing, to where Bilbo stood, small and unnoticed in this tent of giants. She smiled at him, soft and gentle, and it held all the grace and love of the Green Mother herself. Bilbo's mouth dropped open, and he looked singularly awed.
"No dwarf leaves his mountain, they refuse to stand, they become part of their darkness and never again leave their chambers and halls. They die within them, with none outside to know it, and they pass into legend, into history." Her words were a hammer, sending first Balin to his knees, and then Dwalin.
She was unforgiving, eyes fixed on Thorin's to drive in the horrendous truth to her words. "All save one, Gimli, Son of Gloin, who fought beside an elf and called him friend. He sailed to the Undying lands, beside his shield brother Legolas Greenleaf." Behind them all Gloin sucked in a deep, shocked breath, listening desperately. Thranduil didn't make a noise, but the sudden pain on his face was heartfelt.
Elya looked into the Elf King's blue eyes, emotionless in the face of his grief. "He heard the gulls cry, calling him home." Thranduil bent his neck under her gaze, submitting.
Returning to Thorin, Elya's gaze sharpened, almost to the point that he felt her cut into him. "With your end comes the end of your nephews, your family line. Of your race. Tell me, Thorin Oakenshield," she paused, stepping closer so she stood above him, she felt tall in a way she never thought was possible. She felt like she wasn't human, like she was made of air and light and the vibrations of the world. "Do you regret?" Thorin grit his teeth, snarling, pain washing his features.
There was movement around them, an aborted move to stop her, to make her stop, but Thorin and Elya didn't so much as twitch, eyes locked. Finally, Thorin surrendered and his kingly gaze fell, the strength of his character and his core exposed to her, he turned and glanced at the tent wall, towards where Kili and Fili slipped closer and closer to death.
"I do." He rasped, with his final breath, and all knew he wouldn't ever breathe in again.
Dwalin gave a crushed cry, some of the Company were sobbing, Gandalf removed his great wizard's hat.
But Elya, whose glow only strengthened, knelt at his side, and crouched over him. "The King." She breathed.
"Stop her, get her away!" Dain tried to exclaim, but he was halted by Thranduil himself.
Elya leaned over and kissed Thorin, the light filling her to a near painful degree. And then it seemed to diminish, but she knew it was entering Thorin, filling him, and she remained kissing him until his threshold was met.
Drawing back, Elya parted their lips and took a deep breath, followed immediately by Thorin whose chest rose deeply with it. His color was back, he no longer sweat, and the stink of his wounds was gone.
"Bring them to me." Elya rasped, her glow lessened but not gone. Gandalf rushed to do it, since no other seemed able to move. Their eyes were fixed on their king, where he breathed easily, without pain. And on her, where she knelt, glowing with that beautiful golden light.
Thorin opened his eyes when Kili had been set down next to his brother. They lay on cots, still in their battle armor. Both princes were pale and still, Fili it seemed, had already passed.
"The Heir." Elya whispered, standing on shaking feet to take herself to Fili's side, where she knelt over him and kissed him. Fili took longer, as her light was not as powerful and his threshold took longer to meet. But, when she parted their lips they breathed in at the same time, his flush was back and the hair on his head seemed to shine like all the gold in Erebor.
Elya fell sideways, trembling, heaving in air. She felt drained, empty, and bruised. But there was still, there was still…
Elya crawled to Kili, unable to stifle her tears. She felt more like herself now, less like the numbed powerful being she had just been.
"And the Spare," Elya cried shakily, reaching Kili and taking his head in her hands. The familiar feel of his hair was torture on her, as was the stillness of his face. "My only, my heart, I give you all, everything left of me." But as Elya leaned to kiss him, she knew she had none left.
She shared what she had, and it was enough to bring Kili to the surface for just a second. His arm lifted, to rest around her waist, and his head turned so they were kissing more fully, but his eyes did not open.
Behind Elya, Fili rustled and lifted his head, blearily blinking his eyes. "Elya?" He asked, confused, and then, "Kili?"
Elya felt herself slipping, felt Kili slipping, and she was grateful that at least she got to hold him, one last time. Her head fell to the side, the kiss breaking, and both her and Kili stilled into an unnatural sleep. She lay across him, cuddled to him by his own last act, and they died together. Their hearts beat to a stop, and their bodies cooled.
"Kili!" Fili cried, shooting upward only to be pushed back down by Thorin, who had managed to stumble his way over to feel for himself the life in his nephew. The King had tears in his eyes, and he held Fili tightly.
"No, no, Kili! Elya!" Fili cried, trying to wake them, his voice faltering.
"Kili!"
