Chapter 25

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its inhabitants belong to the great JRR Tolkien, not me!

Melkor's eyes dimmed, and Ryn felt the Stone scorch her palm as it flashed blinding white. On instinct, she wrenched Kíli's arm from his sword, knocking him to the ground as the black mist exploded in a concussive shockwave around them. It rippled outward with a deafening growl, mowing down all four of the Dark Vala's warlocks, who screamed and did not rise. The orcs and goblins seemed to realize their leader was gone and all semblance of a battle plan dissolved completely. The War Beasts and mewlips looked confused and turned to run away from the sharp arrows and axes that cut into their flesh.

Within minutes, the allied forces of Mirkwood, Dale, and Erebor were happily engaged in a rout. The rapidly-diminishing numbers of Melkor's thugs broke entirely then, trying to flee to the North.

But neither Ryn nor Kíli were even aware of any of it. Ryn, frankly, was struggling to even remain conscious, blackness bleeding into the edges of her vision as she clung tightly to Kíli where he lay, flat on his back in the dirt.

"Rye?" a familiar voice croaked, but it wasn't Kíli—he seemed to be as devastatingly exhausted as she, and hadn't moved or spoken since stabbing Melkor. Ryn would've been worried, except that her Senses—so attuned it was nearly painful—told her he would be fine. A hand shook her shoulder, jerkily, and the voice came again. "Rye, wake up!"

She pried her eyes open with no small amount of difficulty, to see a head of frazzled brown hair tickling her nose and cheeks. Startled, she gasped a little and jerked, and the head pulled back with a murmured exclamation of relief. "Oh thank the Valar, Rye!"

Blinking, her eyes met hazel ones. "Talos?"

Mahal, her voice was wrecked.

"Is it over? Is he gone? Are you all right?" The rapid-fire questions made her dizzy, and she had to shut her eyes again to ward off the wave of nausea that accompanied it. Talos shook her shoulder and she moaned. "Rye, talk to me! Namad?"

"He's gone," she managed, wanting nothing more than to just embrace the blessed darkness of sleep. But it was not to be, for Kíli began then to stir and Talos was pulling her upright and against his chest roughly. She could feel him trembling, hear his heart racing, and she patted his arm in a vague sort of way, hoping to assure him of her well-being.

"I's over, nadadith. Kíli's…healed 'n…Melkor 's gone."

"Prince Kíli! Lady Ryn?" another new voice. Ryn burrowed deeper into her brother's chest, not wanting to face anyone just yet.

She was so tired.

But then there were people all around the three exhausted dwarves; men and elves and other dwarves, asking questions, demanding answers, calling her name and Kíli's, trying to pluck her from Talos' arms—that particular dwarf earned a vicious growl from her brother—and it was all just too much, too fast.

Darkness descended.

She came to what must've been a moment later; she was still on the field, there were still too many people around, though some blessed soul had backed the crowd up. Kíli was calling her name from somewhere nearby, his voice hoarse and ragged.

"Ryn? Ryn!"

She fumbled for his hand and squeezed it. "Here…right here," she whispered.

"Ryn!" a feminine voice this time, one she recognized. She forced her eyes open again, shuddering at the early-morning light that blinded her. "'Nora?" she mumbled, judging by the voice alone, since she couldn't see a thing.

"Yes," her friend sighed in relief. "Yes, I am here. Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, leaning heavily on Talos, his arms still around her.

"Good," Anora breathed. "We need you."

For healing, Ryn realized. They need me to Heal. That's who I am, right? The Healer—yes. That's my job. Healing.

"Can't," she nearly whimpered. She was so tired.

"Please," Anora was begging, tears in her voice, and a vague part of Ryn realized it had to be serious for that—Sêla, perhaps. Or maybe their father. She struggled upright at the idea, fighting dizziness the whole way despite Talos' help.

"Who?" she asked, hooking an arm around her brother's neck and searching for Kíli with streaming eyes. He lay next to her, clutching her fingers as Gandalf helped him into a sitting position.

"Fíli."

Kíli's gray face paled further, eyes widening as he found her gaze. Ryn felt like she'd been punched in the gut—losing Fíli would be a blow neither she nor Kíli were ready to handle. She looked around sluggishly for the Stone before realizing it was still in her aching hand, her fingers clenched tight around its unyielding surface. Her skin stung where it had seared her palm, but she didn't dare let go now.

She was going to need it to help Fíli, she had a feeling.

"Ready?" Talos murmured in her ear, and she realized slowly that he meant to carry her. Tears sparked in her eyes at the kindness of it—she didn't have extra energy to spend on walking—and she nodded. Talos stood, cradling her close, steady despite his own fatigue.

"Take us to him."

Anora prayed constantly, a litany of pleas cycling through her mind with every step back toward the Mountain.

Please let him hold on.

Don't let him have slipped away while I was gone.

Give Ryn strength to help.

Please let Kíli be all right.

Please.

Talos was barely half a step behind her, holding his sister in his arms—a position of both assistance and protectiveness, Anora recognized. It was clear the lass was too weak to so much as hold her head up for long; Anora tried not to think about how much energy healing Kíli and then defeating a Vala had taken, and how much Ryn had left to spare.

Because if she did, she just might lose her head entirely.

So she kept walking, quickly, carefully storing her terror and helplessness away for later—she could deal with it once everyone was back on their feet. Or at the very least, not in imminent danger of dying.

"How…bad?" Ryn was mumbling from beside her, where Talos had caught up.

Mahal, there is no way she can manage this right now…

"Bad," she answered tightly. "He will not wake. His legs were crushed by a boulder, he has several broken ribs; but the most worrying is the massive contusion to his skull." She looked over at Ryn. "The healers are near panic."

Ryn shifted in Talos' arms. "Yes—'s bad."

Anora nodded and walked a bit faster.

They reached the Healing Ward minutes later, and Anora led them into the largest of the private rooms. Two healers hovered near the King, who lay pale and still on a thick cot, Lady Dis holding his hand. The Princess looked up at their entrance and her eyes widened.

"Anora, is that—?"

Ryn smiled weakly as Talos placed her gently on the edge of the bed. "M'lady," she slurred only a little, then turned her complete attention to the King.

Anora stepped back, going to Dis and standing beside her to watch. Ryn ran light fingers over the bruising on the side of Fíli's head. It had swelled even worse since Anora left to find help, though the lad was just as unresponsive as he'd been all along.

"Anora?" she looked up to see her sister dash through the door. "They said you were in…" Sêla froze, taking in Ryn, Talos, taking in Fíli's state; both Dis and Anora rushed forward as she paled.

"Sêla, namadith, stay calm," she soothed. "Ryn will fix him."

"Fix him?" Sêla hissed. "She looks like she needs to be in a bed next to him!"

Anora huffed a surprised chuckle at that. "Just wait, sister."

And wait they did. Ryn's face was twisted into a grimace, and the large white gem in her right hand was glowing brightly; a magic that matched that which flowed from the fingers of her left hand into Fíli's skull.

For several long minutes, nothing noteworthy happened. A sweat broke out on Ryn's forehead and her face went even paler, her hand shaking visibly; Anora worried she might have to stop the girl. She knew the tale of how Ryn had given of her own life force to save Kíli a year prior, how they'd nearly lost her, how haunted Kíli had looked at the very idea. She hoped to Mahal that it wouldn't come to that now, because Kíli would never forgive her if she didn't stop the lass from doing something so foolish again.

Just as Anora stepped forward to pull Ryn away, both she and Fíli gasped deeply in tandem, the magic flashing before it dimmed. Ryn slumped forward into Talos' waiting arms, and Fíli yelped in pain. The healers surged forward, examining him as he looked about wildly; absorbing the sight of his mother, his beloved, his guard, his brother's bandinh and her brother…

"Where is Kíli?" was the first thing he said, and Anora choked on her heart.

Thank you.

Kíli was, in fact, working his torturously slow way to his brother at that very moment, assisted by Gandalf, who had yet to let him out of his sight even though Melkor was definitely defeated. The Prince was grateful, however; because stubborn as he was, he couldn't deny he wouldn't have made it ten feet without the wizard's help.

Apparently using a Valar-bestowed Gift to destroy a Dark Lord was strenuous work.

But his fear for his brother and his bandinh kept him moving forward. Ryn would help, he knew, if she was at all physically able; and probably even if she wasn't. He shuddered at the thought—losing either one of them was out of the question—and forced himself to stumble forward a bit faster. The journey was not made easier by the fact they were on a still-fresh battlefield: bodies, weapons, and debris littered the ground, which was slippery and soft with the spilt blood of his brothers and enemies alike.

Stripped bare by exhaustion, Kíli blinked back tears.

Those who hadn't chased their attackers north were beginning to pick through the carnage, looking for wounded and sorting through the dead. They stopped as he walked past, straightening to stare at the Heir of Durin who had so recently been standing with their enemies.

Kíli felt a cold sweat break out on his face that had nothing whatsoever to do with his own injuries.

He swallowed, painfully: his people were going to deserve an explanation for the last hour's…incident. It made him sick to think he had joined Melkor's forces, no matter what kind of hold the Vala had had on him—and the Dwarves of Erebor were unlikely to forget it. Neither they, nor the Elves of Mirkwood or the Men of Dale…even the mercenaries had seen what he'd done.

How long until word spread that Erebor's Prince was a traitor?

Kíli faltered to a halt and twisted away from Gandalf as he retched at the thought. He spat mostly bile, but his stomach didn't seem to care as it attempted to turn itself inside out, the wizard's hand firm between his shoulder blades.

"My Prince?" someone asked, and he looked up to see a grizzled old warrior standing over him, concern etched on his wrinkled face. "Are you well?"

Lacking the strength to pretend otherwise, Kíli shook his head. "Sorry," he croaked, gasping. Breathing was suddenly impossibly difficult, and tendrils of black seeped into his vision, blocking out the horrifying specter of battle. "'M so sorry…"

"For what?" the warrior growled. "For what that rat bastard of a Vala forced you into? Lad, there's no shame in that."

Kíli shook his head, hearing but disbelieving. He was a betrayer, had stood against his own people, and the guilt was crippling.

"You fought hard, and you fought well," the dwarf continued, thumping a heavy hand on Kíli's shoulder and drawing him upright to face the small crowd of bloody, worn out allies that had gathered behind him. "And you beat him. Oakenshield would be proud."

The mention of his lost uncle garnered a hard stare from Kíli as his stomach knotted painfully, but the eyes of every person that ringed him now confirmed the old warrior's words. Completely missing was the accusation and fear he'd expected; instead, they wore smiles of relief and expressions of worry.

"Now, go get yourself fixed up," the warrior said, cuffing him on the side of the head gently. "And go find that lass of yours."

Kíli nodded, swallowed, allowed Gandalf to lead him forward. Inspired by the dwarf's words, it seemed, every person they passed stopped to smile and incline their head in a gesture of respect. Touched, Kíli took a deep shuddering breath as he and Gandalf finally crossed the threshold into the Mountain. The wizard's fingers tightened on his shoulder.

"Hold your head high, Prince of Durin," the wizard murmured. "You have no cause for shame."

It was a matter of moments until they found themselves at the door to Fíli's room. The Healers had pounced the moment Kíli entered the Ward, but he steadfastly refused to be seen to until he had confirmed the state of his brother and his beloved. Grudgingly, the Master Healer had led him to Fíli's room and sternly promised to be back in five minutes.

Kíli pushed the door open and stepped in of his own volition.

Fíli was lying on a thick cot, covered in blankets, eyes closed. His face was pale, and dark circles ringed his eyes. Normally golden hair lay limp and dark with sweat and dirt against the white pillow. Even beneath the wool blankets, Kíli could see the bulk of bandages that covered his brother's torso and legs.

So Ryn had not been successful, then.

It was her he sought the next moment, and he felt the blood drain from his face when he saw her on a cot near his brother, Talos sitting vigil next to her. She looked worse than even Fíli, small and shrunken beneath the covers, her face completely colorless and breathing shallow.

"What happened?" he croaked, and everyone else looked up. He registered the presence of his mother, Sêla, and Anora before they reached him and wrapped him up in warm embraces.

"Kíli!"

"Oh Mahal, we were so worried—"

"We thought for sure, when we saw Ryn, that you had—"

"I am all right," he assured, wiping a tear from his mother's cheek with a dirty thumb. "It is over, Melkor is gone. What of Fíli?"

"Ryn saved him!" Sêla spoke up. "He was dying, and she brought him back. He's only sleeping now. She must have been very weak, she couldn't heal him all the way."

"Just enough to save his life," Anora added, and Kíli felt relief swamp him. His legs felt weak with it, and he managed a jerky nod.

Extracting himself from his mother and friends, he staggered over to Ryn's cot, dark eyes begging Talos for an update. The younger dwarf gave him a despairing smile that was the very picture of weariness.

"Sleeping," he simply said.

Kíli sat heavily on the edge of the cot, stretching his fingers to touch her cheek, now properly comprehending that she was actually here.

She had made it to Fjallstadr.

She had found and acquired the Umräd, had fulfilled her quest, and had saved him.

When she stirred beneath his hand with a little moan and pried open dull green eyes, he broke. Kíli leaned down and pressed their foreheads together.

"Ryn," he choked, and heard her take a shaky breath.

"Kíli," she murmured. "Missed you."

He kissed her bloodless lips softly. "Missed you too."

FIN

A/N: Well, there ya have it! Melkor is defeated, Fili saved, and our lover-birds are reunited! There'll be an Epilogue coming next week, but this is the official END of the Erebor Reclaimed Series! Thank you ALL so much for sticking with me on this; it's been a wild, crazy journey, and I've loved sharing it with you guys!

Special thanks to summerald for her beta work and for being THE most rockin' friend a girl could ask for! Don't forget to check out her work on this site; she's got serious skills!

In case any of you are wondering, I am NOT done with Ryn. My Camp NaNo project this April is to start the process of converting this series into an original work that I hope to get published someday! *crosses fingers* I will certainly keep you all apprised of any developments on THAT end, should you wish.

Just as many fan fic writers, though, I've got more than one fandom I'm involved in, and numerous stories chasing themselves around my skull; so my next fan fiction is going to be a Supernatural story. If you're part of that fandom, feel free to come on over and join me for another big adventure! The story will be called Livin' On A Prayer, and should be up in the next day or two.

Thanks again, everyone! Stay tuned for the Epilogue!