As promised, this chapter is about Ori.

21: Almost alright

Ori woke from a dreamless sleep. Whatever Óin had given him to keep the pain at bay must have been some strong medicine. He was grateful for it, because he was scared of what he would see in his dreams. He remembered little of what had happened between his leaving the tent to search for his brothers, and experiencing the excruciating pain of having his leg ripped open. He faintly recalled clinging on to Dwalin, all the while feeling his own blood run down his leg, but the things he'd witnessed on the battlefield were merely a blur. Not that this wasn't awful enough. He could hear the screaming in his head and he thought he could still smell the stench of death that had lingered above the field.

He wondered what time it was. As he glanced sideways he saw Nori sleeping in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Leaning against Ori's bed, with his legs propped up on a turned bucket, Ori had a clear view on his brother's scalp. A bit of dried blood was visible even in the dim light, which made Ori frown. Carefully he reached out his hand to touch Nori's injury and find out if he ought to call Óin. Nori flinched and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, before he quickly turned around.

"Ori, you're awake!" he shouted happily.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," said Ori contritely. "You're injured, Nori," he added, motioning at his brother's head.

"Ah, don't worry. Just a blow to the head, nothing life-threatening. Might actually do me some good, Dori said."

He spoke light-heartedly, which Ori deeply appreciated. Nori's humorous take on things was what he needed, because it allowed him to keep his mind from wandering to unwanted places.

"Where's Dori?" he asked suddenly, only then noticing his oldest brother's absence.

"He left earlier," replied Nori, stretching and yawning widely. "He wanted to see Balin, as far as I know. He might have stopped to check on Bofur, Bombur and Bifur."

"Are they alright?" Ori asked immediately, cursing inwardly that he hadn't bothered to ask how his friends had fared in battle. Maybe it was because he was scared of the answer.

They are dead, Ori. Kíli, Fíli, and Thorin.

Nori's words echoed in his ears, and he knew he hadn't quite realised what they meant. His childhood friends were dead. His king was dead. It was so surreal, an almost ridiculous idea, that the young dwarves who had always been the centre of attention in Ered Luin, who had been loved by everyone, and who had never laughed at him for being so useless with a sword, but had instead always welcomed him in their games, should be gone just like that.

Lost in his thoughts he didn't hear Nori immediately.

"They are fine, Ori," said Nori, eyeing him worriedly. "A few cuts and bruises, nothing more. As are Glóin and Balin, by the way – although Balin's beard looks a little worse for wear. They will ride for Ered Luin soon. Dwalin has a cracked rib and his head must have been on the receiving end of a club, but you know him, he's a rock. What doesn't kill him makes him stronger."

He winked at Ori, but the young scribe didn't feel much like smiling back at him. Of course there was some truth in Nori's words. He faintly remembered Dwalin picking him up on the field, carrying him single-handed while wielding his axe with the other hand. But he had also seen him later, when he'd first left the dark world of blissful unconsciousness. The bald warrior had been there, and when he'd looked up he had seemed different.

He had been quiet, with his usual larger-than-life attitude hidden under a mask of pain that had nothing to do with his visible battle wounds. Of course Dwalin had already known, at that time, what Ori had still had to learn from Nori.

His eyes started to burn, and he hoped Nori wouldn't notice. If he did, he certainly didn't let it show.

"Can I get you anything?" asked his brother cautiously. "Water? Something to eat?"

Ori only nodded, fearing that his voice would betray him. He could feel the familiar lump in his throat, and somehow he knew that trying to speak would most probably not end well in that moment.

"I'll see what I can get you," said Nori and patted his shoulder. Normally Ori would have reminded him to ask first, take food later, since his brother had always been known to nick food from the kitchen, even when he'd been just a child. But he could only force himself to a lopsided smile before Nori left for the tent door.

Ori's gaze lingered on the spot where Nori had vanished, before he turned his head and tried to close his eyes. It was to no avail, though. Immediately his head was filled with noises of terror, with faint cries, screaming, terrifying grunts from orcs and desperate calls from unknown dwarves. He shook his head furiously, as if he could thus get rid of the images haunting him. He tried to focus on something else, and allowed himself to scan the tent for familiar faces. On various beds Ori saw numerous dwarves, and also some men here and there. He couldn't spot any elves, and he guessed that they were tended to by their own healers. At some beds he could see someone sitting or standing, talking to a wounded friend, and the constant noise of murmuring voices filled the air that was thick from the smell of disinfectants, blood and death.

He felt bile rising up in his stomach and wished that Nori would return quicker, hopefully with a mug of water. Even something stronger than water would be nice, he thought, anything to numb his mind a little.

All of a sudden his eyes caught a movement in the far away corner. A dwarf appeared from behind what must be a curtain, and despite the rather dark interior Ori recognised him even from the distance. His breath caught in his throat as he watched Dwalin approaching. Instinctively he propped himself up against his pillow.

Dwalin slowed down as he got nearer and stopped a few feet from the bed. There was a strange expression in his eyes, one that Ori had never seen before. If it wasn't absolutely ridiculous, he would say that the older warrior was scared.

"How are you feeling, laddie?" asked Dwalin quietly with an unusually tremulous voice. As Ori looked a little closer he could see dark shadows underneath his eyes, which in addition to his impressive beard and black tattoos should have made him look even more frightening that normal. Oddly enough, though, to Ori he seemed less intimidating. More human, somehow.

It was simple question, but Ori couldn't find an easy answer. How was he feeling, really? He was tired, his body was comfortably numb from Óin's medicine, and his throat was incredibly dry, as if he hadn't had a drink in weeks.

But more than anything he felt different, and he didn't like it one bit. Maybe this was what the older warriors had meant when they'd talked about comrades who had changed in battle. He wondered if experienced warriors felt just as empty inside as he did. Because that was the most accurate answer to Dwalin's question – there was no happiness about their victory, but somehow there wasn't sadness, either. It was probably a matter of time, he thought, until the consequences of the battle would fully sink in.

"I'm alright."

The words came out as a raspy whisper, barely loud enough to carry over the murmuring voices around him, but Dwalin must have heard it nonetheless. He could feel the older one's scrutinising look even though he kept his gaze down. He couldn't bear looking at him, for suddenly there was a voice in his head that he was unable to shut out.

He could have saved them.

But instead Dwalin had brought him back, had run in the opposite direction on the battlefield against his very instinct, and with a sinking feeling Ori realised that the creepy voice might be right. His chest tightened and made it almost impossible to breathe, and to his horror he felt his eyes filling up way too rapidly for him to handle. He couldn't cry, not in front of Dwalin, of all people! He clenched his fists angrily, curling his fingers round the white blanket covering is body, and stared furiously at the wall, just so that he wouldn't have to face Dwalin.

He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder for the briefest of moments.

"That's good to hear," Dwalin said. "I'm glad you are alright."

Ori was pretty sure that Dwalin knew that, in fact, he was far from alright. None of the company was, and the young dwarf wondered if they'd ever be truly alright again. But he had the notion that Dwalin wasn't referring to his actual answer. How he could be so sure about it he didn't know, though. There was something in the way the older dwarf spoke that was reassuring, which quieted the noise in his head if only a little.

"Thank you," he whispered, and it was all he could say before his throat restricted completely and made it impossible to speak further.

Thank you for saving me. Thank you for not wishing you hadn't. Thank you for not blaming me for your friends' deaths.

Dwalin just nodded, for a moment remaining standing at Ori's bedside. Whatever else he wanted to say was cut short by Nori's return.

"I got water, and managed to get a bowl of porridge for you, but – oh. Hello, Dwalin."

Nori and Dwalin eyed each other, the latter obviously trying to find out where exactly Nori had gotten the porridge from. He raised his eyebrows, and indeed the former thief looked a little uneasy under the warrior's stern gaze. To Ori's utter surprise, though, Dwalin didn't say anything. He only gave Nori a warning look before he turned around.

"I'll see if I can find my brother," he said gruffly and headed for the tent door.

Gratefully Ori took the leather skin filled with water from his brother, all the time being fully aware of Nori watching him worriedly. When he'd finished drinking, he continued with the porridge, which was surprisingly good – or maybe he just appreciated the fact that he was eating anything at all. He lowered the spoon when the bowl was empty, and only then his eyes met Nori's.

"How are feeling, brother?" asked Nori tentatively.

"Tired," answered Ori truthfully. When he noticed his brother's sceptical look, he sighed quietly. "I'm not alright. None of us are. The things I've seen... all this death and pain, it's not something I can just push to the back of my head. I try so hard to think of this as our new home, but every time I do that voice inside my head keeps telling me that a home paid for with blood is no home for me."

"Do you mean to day that you don't want to stay? Do you want to go back to Ered Luin?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to figure that out another day."

I just want to live somewhere safe.

Ori could feel his eyelids dropping closed and failed to stifle a yawn.

"Get some sleep, Ori," said Nori warmly. "I'll send Dori here when I find him."

"Just wake me up when Balin and Glóin leave, will you? I want to see them off."

"Are you sure you –"

"I need to say goodbye."

It wasn't anything he could explain logically. He just knew that it was important to him to be present at his friends' departure. To his great surprise Nori didn't ask further, but instead only nodded. He smiled a little as Ori blinked several times to keep his eyes from closing.

"Sleep, brother. I'll see you later."

He said something else, but whatever it was went unnoticed by Ori as he drifted off into sleep. That time, he did dream. Not of orcs and wargs and death, but of wide halls made of stone, of pillars reaching into the sky, of a new life under the mountain. It didn't look much like Erebor, he would later remember, but then again his mind might well be playing tricks on him. Mahal only knew how Óin's medicine would addle his brain.

My dreams are not unlike yours
They long for the safety
And break like a glass chandelier
But there's laughter and oh there is love
Just past the edge of our fears

(Rise Against, "People live here")

A/N 1: I always thought - well, after seeing The Hobbit - that there had to be a reason for Ori to join Balin to reclaim Moria. Why should he leave his brothers behind, leave his home? In my headcanon, he simply never felt truly at home in Erebor, just as he says it here. I really wish we knew more about the dwarves' fates after the battle!

A/N 2: As much as it saddens me to say this - tomorrow I will post the last chapter (plus a short epilogue) of this story. It will be from Bofur's point of view and I really hope I found a good way to end this.

A/N 3: Can I just say how freaking much I love Rise Against? If you're into rock music and don't know them yet, check them out!