Kaia: thank you so much for suggesting that song, it really fit with what I was feeling when I wrote for her; and just in general the situation between her and Thorin. Though I have to admit when I first looked it up on youtube I got distracted by the music video and didn't listen to the words, so I had to watch it again :) but thank you again for the suggestion, I love when songs relate to what I'm writing because it almost makes it a little deeper. Or in this case it made it hurt a little more.

So this is the end and my story is complete. Thank you all so much for reading, it really does mean a lot to me that you did.

The days passed slowly and wearily, the dwarves spending their time in the treasure room piling and sorting the great hoard – finding many treasures for themselves, such as glorious armor and weapons. Though one piece of the treasure, one small stone among thousands upon thousands of other equally small pieces, as greatly as it had been searched for it was never found. Bilbo, who had found the stone when running from Smaug and had managed to snatch it up and stow it in his pocket, worried constantly that it would be found wrapped in an old bundle of tattered oddments that he used as a pillow.

He knew if Eliniel had been herself he would have been found out, for she seemed to have a strange way of knowing things – at least then he may have had someone to tell him he was truly doing the right thing by keeping the Arkenstone out of Thorin's reach, or at least to come up with a plan. But no matter the number of times he went to her side, held her hand, called her name softly or loud, she did little more than turn to him and smile gently – her lips barely curling for a few moments before her face smoothed and she turned away from him again. Though there were times when he found her sitting with her eyes closed, and if not for the faint rise and fall of her chest he'd have thought her dead for how pale her skin was, the circles beneath her eyes growing darker each day.

Thorin hardly looked at her, and Bilbo thought perhaps if he sat at his wife's side and saw she was dying he might become himself once more. But he would not leave the hoard, sometimes shifting through it searching for the Arkenstone, other times running his fingers along it longing for more than it could give, yet most of the time he simply stood gazing at it allowing it to darken his heart further. And so his heart withered as her life faded, holding on in the hope he might return.

"Eliniel," Balin said one day, standing beside where she continued to sit having not moved for days. "We are taking you to a bed where you may rest," he told her gently, not knowing when the men and elves would return to parley, but after the raven's news that Dain was two days from arriving with his army, Balin did not wish for her to see her husband when they came – he knew it would be her end to witness just how gone he truly was, and he was still praying she might return to them.

When she gave no answer, not a shake of her head or the batting of an eye, he turned to Fili and Kili and nodded. "Milday," Kili said kneeling beside her, taking her arm and placing it around his shoulders as he pulled her to her feet. With Fili on her other side the brothers half carried her down the first hall before settling her on the bed.

"Her skin is ice," Fili told him quietly.

Kili stared down at her wondering what she thought as she looked up at him, her freezing hand on his cheek. "Milady?"

She smiled softly as she breathed deeply. "I thought you were Thorin, when he was young," she said, her voice so soft he needed to stoop closer to hear. "He had been so sweet, his eyes so kind."

"He will come back to you," Kili assured her, hearing the finality in her voice.

But she shook her head as she swallowed thickly. "No, he is gone from me," she breathed, nearly wheezing as he pulled the blanket over her.

With little more to do for her he stepped back, sharing a worried glance with his brother before stepping out of the room. "We should not leave her," he said to Balin, who had stood in the hall unable to bear the sight of her so broken.

"I fear what will become of her should she see how far he has fallen," was his answer. "I will stay with her for now, I suppose."

"Might I?" they heard a small voice ask from behind them, and upon turning they saw Bilbo as he peeked into the room. Balin nodded almost relieved before taking his leave, Kili and Fili following behind him leaving Bilbo alone with her. He moved to the bed, looking at the doorway to ensure no one heard him. "I have the Arkenstone," he whispered in her ear. "I have a plan though I'm not sure if it is a good one." And so he told her his plan to give the stone to Bard and the Elvenking that night, hoping to force Thorin into agreeing to their terms; and he stood waiting for her to say something, and sighing when she did not.

"He will turn on you," she said so softly he almost missed it.

He looked at her shocked that she had spoken to him, that she had gathered the strength to do so. But her words spoke of what he feared. "I do not believe there is another way," he told her.

Though her mind had gone and she looked at him sadly. "I wish I could have visited your home," she said.

A burning settled behind his eyes as he drew to mind her lovely face so warm and alive when he had described to her his hobbit-hole months before. "You would have loved it," he said next. It was a few moments, after she had already turned away and closed her eyes that he realized he had spoken as though she were already dead – and he stood too upset to stay with her any longer. "I'm sorry, I couldn't," he said to Balin when he found him in the main hall.

"It is alright lad," Balin told him. "Let her rest."

Balin had been right to have kept her from Thorin, for on the next dawn when Bard came to the Mountain asking once more for a small share of the gold – in return for the Arkenstone. She was not witness to Thorin's blind rage as Bilbo stepped forward admitting he had given it to them, and if the king had had a weapon Bilbo would have been dead; as it were, after nearly throwing him from the stone wall they had laid, he had paced darkly pondering whether by the help of Dain he could recapture the Arkenstone without sparing even the smallest of jewels from the treasure.

Later that evening Balin had gone to see her, hoping against hope to coax her into eating – but she was fast asleep breathing strangely when he found her. She had done no more than blink a spare few times when he had smoothed the hair from her face before her eyes closed once more. With a heavy heart and a troubled mind he left his dying queen, no longer knowing whether Thorin in his black state would care enough to go to her – or if Thorin would only cause more harm by showing her he truly had gone from her side. And so he left it for the night, not seeing how the rising of the second dawn would bring good tidings when Dain and his army of five hundred dwarves would arrive – Thorin already wished to bring a war upon the men and the elves.

"Where is she?" Thorin had asked the next day, the first in many days he had even spared her a thought – though Dain had arrived and the end would now be upon them.

Balin sighed before answering: "she is resting."

Thorin turned on his oldest friend with half crazed eyes. "If we are to battle I will see my wife beforehand," he said harshly, offering no refusal.

"She is in the first room down the hall," Balin answered quietly, not knowing what Thorin wanted from her but knowing she was in no state to give it.

Thorin turned from him the moment he finished speaking, his pace quick and unrelenting until he found himself in the room she had been laid. And for the first time in many a day he saw what had become of her; all color gone from her skin, her hand hanging limp off the bed, her eyes sealed shut, and not a breath did she breathe. "Eliniel?" he said softly as he stepped closer, his fingers brushing against her hand to find her cold as the stone around her.

The dwarves leapt to their feet and turned startled at the sound of Thorin's loud cry, and they ran as quickly as their legs could carry them to the room she was in; the sight they were met with was of their king on his knees weeping as he cradled their queen in his arms. The moment they saw her lifeless body, her head fallen back and her chest utterly still, they knew the life had gone from her.

They stood silently not uttering a sound as they mourned her, listening as Thorin's tears dried and still he staid clutching her to his chest as all darkness left him. Without a word he stood, moving past his kin with his wife in his arms as he carried her to the main hall kissing her gently for the last time after he laid her down before going to the wall.

"Did she want to die?" Ori asked when Thorin had gone, his face marked by the tracks of tears.

"No," Balin answered, clutching Dwalin's hand on his shoulder. "But she did not want to live any longer," he said before turning toward the main hall.

"What will we do?" he asked, standing at Thorin's side as they looked out to see the battle that had just begun; hundreds upon hundreds of goblins and orcs swarming the men and elves and dwarves.

Hearing the sound of war, seeing it before his very eyes, he could not erase her face from his mind or the feel of her cold body in his arms; he had done this, he had allowed the dragon sickness to overcome him and she had suffered the cost. It left him unable to breathe as tears once more welled in his eyes, the ache in his chest where his heart once had been drowning him in the pain of her absence. "We will join them in battle," he said thickly. "And when we have won a share of the treasure will be given to the man Bard, and more if needed."

"You would willingly offer them more?" Balin asked unable to believe he had heard Thorin correct.

He turned to Balin violently, forcing his old friend to step back. "Does she not deserve that much?" he demanded. "After all I have done to her, does she not deserve the best that I can be?" He flinched when Balin placed a hand on his shoulder, gritting his teeth to stop the tears that would never cease. "I cannot do this without her."

Balin looked upon his king's broken face to see all of the world's guilt in his eyes. "You will give her the best you can be," he assured him, squeezing his shoulder before stepping away from him.

With more strength than he had in him he squared his shoulders and turned to the others, finding them all adorned in armor bearing weapons. His kin would stand by him, would give him the strength to right the wrong he had done to her. Together they charged from the Mountain, weapons raised and cries loud enough to shake the spines in many of the goblins as a new fervor was raised in the men and elves and dwarves.

…

At the sight of her body Legolas had fallen to his knees and wept, having felt the moment she faded as though a part of him had gone with her. Thranduil too had felt it, a part of his spirit he had given to bring her into this world, and an ache he had not known would be so great had been left in her place. Balin stood a ways back as he allowed father and son to grieve for a few moments more, though time was running short. He cleared his throat and stepped forward. "He wishes to see you," he told Legolas.

With a nod he touched her face briefly and stood, turning to follow as the dwarf led him to where Thorin now lay dying. "If he asks you of his nephews, please tell him they are healing from their wounds and awaiting to see him," Balin told him as they went.

A single look at the dwarf's weathered face and Legolas knew it was a lie, his nephews had fallen – as had Tauriel, who had fought to save the youngest. It was a day of great sorrow, and it did not appear an end would ever be in sight.

The smell of blood was pungent in the air, so strong he could almost see red as he stepped into the tent. Even in death Azog was claiming his vengeance on Thorin, the dwarf lay broken and bleeding on the bed wheezing heavily as he fought for breath. "I should not have taken her from you," Legolas said when the two were alone, admitting his fault in Eliniel's end.

"No," Thorin said with a slight shake of his head, "you should not have let her return." Elf and dwarf stood together, one living and one dying, bound by their guilt in her death, and their love for her – and by her love for them. "Please," Thorin coughed, the taste of blood on his tongue. "I wish to have her by my side." He was surprised by the feel of the elf's hand on his, his eyes red and somber.

"She would not have wanted it any other way," Legolas told him, setting aside all bitter malice that came with their two races for the sake of his sister, and the dwarf she had loved.

So it was, when Thorin too gave up his hold on life he was laid in a tomb made to fit both king and queen. And together they lay in quiet rest til the Mountain crumbled.