Night befell the scorched land. The moon hung high in the sky, providing plenty, though unneeded light across the land. What people of Erebor and Dale that had survived the desolation of the foul beast, Smaug, had taken to fleeing the land. Though even after their departure from the mountain, Smaug had continued to hunt them down until nightfall. Though his pursuit had ceased, no one wished dared hope he wouldn't return. Weary, grief stricken, and wounded, the people made camp some distance from their home. Many suffered great wounds, wailing in pain. Others cried for their lost loved ones. Some were in a state of shock and therefore did nothing but watch their home continue to burn in the darkness.

The very sight would be forever burned in Thorin's memories, haunting him for years to come. He stood at the far edge of their company, taking first watch of the sky, as sleep wound never come to him that night. His sword was grasped in his hand. His clothes were scorched, worn, covered in soot and ash, and smelled of smoke with every wisp of the wind. He sighed heavily, drawing his hand to the pendant. Many had perished in the attack, and many had escaped. But the lives lost, their homes, nothing could improve their situation. Many were wounded, crying out for aid that was little, including his father. Thorin held tight to the pendant, praying she had survived. He had seen no sign of Vali during the attack, nor whilst the people fled. Still, he dare not dwell on the thoughts of her perishing.

Footsteps from behind caught Thorin's attention. He turned, glancing over his shoulder to find his former mentor coming up along side him. Datray had been one of few front guardsman that had survived the attack. His armor remained covered in soot, as did the others. His axe and shield remained in his firm grasp. His once long beard was scorched, burned to a shorter length. He nodded to Thorin briefly. "My lord."

Thorin retuned the nod. "Lord Datray."

"I hope you do not mind the company of an old warrior this evening." Datray said.

"I'd rather have the company of an old friend." Thorin replied with a faint smirk.

Datray nodded slowly. The two warriors stood side by side silently for a moment, watching the burning remains of their home.

"Is there no sign of your family?" Thorin asked.

Datray shook his head. "No. Alyna and Vali were in the healers chamber when Smaug attacked."

"Anyone near the chamber would have been easily overtaken in the attack." Thorin muttered, lowering his head in defeat.

"That it would, my lord." Datray agreed. "However, I will not condemn them to whatever fate befell them."

"You have more faith than I." Thorin said. He felt the firm hand of Datray on his shoulder.

"Perhaps I am just an old fool not willing to give up hope?" he replied.

Thorin shook his head slowly, still watching the embers of the fires in the distance. "Daring to hope is not foolish, my friend."

They stood in silence, watching the smoke continue to rise in the sky. Centuries the Dwarves had dwelled within the safety of the mountain, created a majestic city that rivaled the city of men. Become a great and mighty people. Yet in a single day, all had been taken from them. The homes of their fathers, the lives of companions and friends, lost in a battle of steel and fire. Families forever separated, faces to be forgotten. They had fought as best as they could, most of their strongest warriors had perished in the attack. They could return and attempt to retake the city but it would be futile. Nothing could draw the dragon out, and should it happen any force would easily be overtaken by the dragon's rage.

"Excuse me, Datray." Thorin spoke quickly. He turned from his friend and wandered the region. His boots crushed the grass, long ago trampled by numerous boots. Thorin cared not for where he wandered, his mind was too overcome to remain in his friends company. What was to become of his people? Where were they to go now that they had lost their home? They had nothing, no food, water, money to barter with. Only the smoke and ash ridden clothes upon their backs and swords and axes in their hands. His hands trembled as his thoughts became too jumbled to control. His chest heaved, whether from exhaustion, affliction, or defeat, he knew not. Thorin managed only a few steps more before collapsing to his knees. He clutched the pendant tightly, praying for the strength to at least see through the end of this horrid night.

Through the wind and fainting roar of the fires, a soft voice reached his ears, catching Thorin's full attention. He opened his eyes and lifted his head. The voice was soft, a short distance from him, but it was there. Not cries or wails of anguish, but words. Hushed and unknown from where he knelt. Thorin rose to his feet and headed toward the voice. If one of the survivors had ventured too far from the company, they were in danger of losing their way or risking the wrath of whatever was out in the land. Far too many lives had been lost today for another one to be lost in the evening.

His feet carried him across the grassy plane, following the voice through the darkness. As Thorin followed the voice, it became clearer to him. It was a woman's voice, a saddened voice. Not crying like many other's he'd heard in the evenings pursuit. It sounded, like a prayer. A few more paces revealed that it was not dwarfish or the tongue of man that caught his hears, but Elfish! Thorin dared himself to hope for who waited for him. His pace quickened in apprehension.

It was not long before the voice was nearly in front of him and the darkness was broken by a shape just a few yards from him. Though the sun had passed and the moon was hidden behind the smoke filled sky, Thorin could see a kneeling shape upon the hill. Wisps of hair blew behind the angelic face, caught in the breeze. Bearing the symbol of shambles and ash upon her clothes, Thorin stopped. He watched her for a few moments, ensuring whether she was a dream or truly there. Her golden hair was loosely held by a ribbon. Her dress was all but cut away, revealing her dark brown trousers. Her scarlet top was scorched and covered in ash. Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, yet he'd heard it clear as day. Thorin recognized it as a lament to the fallen.

"You live." he spoke, unable to say anything further.

Vali's head turned quickly, her eyes instantly finding him in the darkness. She rose to her feet slowly, slower than what he'd expect from her. Her steps were slow and hesitant. She too, thought he was not real. Vali walked toward him until she was within arms reach. She lifted her right arm, her finger tips blackened in ash. Vali reached to him, gently touching his cheek. Her fingertips were cold, but her touch was the most treasured gestured Thorin could have ever received. With complete confirmation, Vali's cautious demeanor faded away. A staggering gasp escaped her lips as Vali all but threw herself into his arms. Arms wrapped around her trembling body, Thorin noticed how small she felt in his grasp. Had she always felt so small to him, or had the tragic events of the day altered his perception of her. Whatever it was, it mattered not. She was alive.

"I feared I'd lost you." he whispered.

Vali clung to Thorin. Her fingers trembled against his back where she held. "As did I." She released him slowly, still maintaining a shaky grasp. "Your father, sister, are they-"

"Well." he replied with a nod. "They managed to flee. As did your father." Relief flooded Vali's smoldered features as he caught an elfish prayer of thanks. He could not resist the sudden flash of anger rising within himself at her words. He pushed it aside for the moment. "Your mother?"

Her prayer ended unfinished at Thorin's question. He watched the relief in Vali's face quickly melt into sorrow. Vali lowered her gaze to the ground and slowly shook her head. "No."

Thorin drew her against him once more. "I am sorry."

So much had been lost, so much was to be renewed. But such pains could not be overcome overnight. No, these pains would take much time to heal, and even then, the scars would still remain. The Dwarves of Erebor would never be the same.

sorry it took me so long. writers block.