Oki just to let you know about this chapter. This chapter got so long that I needed to cut it into two, so think of next weeks installment like part 2.
hope you have a box of tissues ready for both.
Old friends
And that was the story of how Bow the Traveller died. The bloodlust and the savagery and the chilling inward fear that plagued her dreams, shrivelled and the blood oath that had carried her through the nights had disappeared.
It was Branwen who now lay in the shelter of Dwalin's arms, safe in the knowledge that she had stood and fought for what was right, even if she no longer had a place in Thorin's heart as his daughter, her mother would have been proud.
She shook snow from her hair and tried to clear her thoughts, thinking practically for a moment. The battle was won but the war was far from over. Branwen tapped Dwalin's forearm and drew reluctantly away from his warmth. Her battered bones ached with cold, blood dried down the side of her face from her temple, and her knuckles were raw and bloody.
Dwalin cupped her cheek and tilted her head to the dawn that had risen on the horizon. "Its stopped bleeding but it's terrible deep; you should go to Oin as soon as you can," Dwalin said in a hoarse voice, his throat raw from smoke and his loud battle cries. Branwen smiled weakly as she pulled his hand gently away from her face.
"No Dwala, Oin will have to deal with much worse than this. Many hundreds will be injured and he will have enough to deal with," Branwen said regretfully giving Dwalin's hand a reassuring squeeze before turning and casting a solemn eye over the chaos of the battle field. Smoke rose lazily from fire arrows and the cries of the dying diminished with every passing second.
"What did you call me?" Dwalin asked from behind her in a hushed voice. Branwen half turned to him, her hands on her hips, unable to keep the broad smile off her face.
"I called you Dwala. When I was a Dwarrow I couldn't pronounce your name properly but I didn't want anyone to know,"- Branwen began but Dwalin wiped his dirty hand over his tired face and his eyes twinkled as he smiled.
"- And you made me promise not to tell anyone. You were stubborn that I wasn't to tell even Thorin or Lif." Dwalin chuckled at the memory, his eyes growing wet and he rubbed at them with the back of his hand.
"Especially not mother or father, we swore an oath," Branwen finished, a satisfied warmth growing in her chest at the memory that had remained hidden for so long.
"But how did you... I thought you knew nothing of your old life," Dwalin asked astounded. Branwen regarded her old friend for a moment. The truth was so unbelievable, so completely outlandish that if she hadn't have witnessed it with her own eyes she would never believe. Struggling to find the right words, Branwen thought of the best way to skirt round her dealings with Aüle.
"Something broke in me when I ran from the mountain. A wall that had been forged in the bloody war I waged to survive, broke, and shattered in to a thousand tiny pieces. But it showed me what was behind the wall and released what had been caged for far too long," Branwen explained as best she could, knowing that she would never tell the true story of the Water of Memory or having her mind crammed into her Dwarrow's body.
They stood for a moment and stared at each other before Branwen stretched on to her tip toes and pressed her forehead against Dwalin's, breathing in his scent of leather and pine and musk of battle - it was beautiful in its familiarity. Then reluctantly, she pulled herself back and descended the bloodied steps of Erebor.
"Now enough of this sentimental talk, there is much to be done and the longer we take to do it the more lives it will cost us," Branwen said clearing her throat. Dwalin and Branwen picked their way down the steps and began to zigzag between the bodies of Azog's guard. Snow was falling in thick flurries now, seeming to cover the corpse in a death shroud of white lace.
"First we must round up Bard, Dain and Thrandruil and get them to claim their dead. The longer we leave them, the more it will attract scavengers and dieses," Branwen said practically, ticking a mental list off in her head but Dwalin took her elbow and turned her, "Then we-"
"You should go to Thorin first," Dwalin declared plainly, not bothering to sugar coat his words.
Branwen's heart missed a beat. It was absurd, she had done battle, defeated the enemy, treated with gods and dragons, yet she still feared her father's wrath.
"No, he will... The people need more care at this moment in time. I'm sure Beorn is nursing him as we speak. The King is nothing without his people and now the people are the most in danger." It was a weak excuse, and Branwen knew Dwalin saw through her words, but he didn't press her. Branwen hid behind her own words. She longed more than anything to see her Father but what if? What if he would caste her out into the wilderness, forever alone once again...
She awoke from her dark ponderings to find Dwalin regarding her with a smile. "That was spoken like ..." he floundered for words for a moment.
"Like what? Like a princess?" Branwen retorted sarcastically.
"No, like your mother." Dwalin's voice was so level and sure that it was almost disconcerting, Branwen didn't know how to respond. Her mouth opened and she gaped at Dwalin before swallowing a dry lump in her throat. The she marched away, stepping over bodies with the sound of Dwalin's footsteps following.
"Smuag needs to be informed. In the meantime, would you be so kind as to find the Company. I would like to know they are all safe before I try to sort out the rest of this mess. Then to Bard, Dain and Thrandruil, say to them that Thorin asks politely collect their dead," Branwen commented practically before stooping to check the pulse of an elf.
"But you have every right-" Dwalin began to argue but was silenced as Branwen snapped to her feet.
"I am nobody Dwalin, Thorin never mentioned me outside the Company and I would not usurp his authority by pretending it is my right to take his power from him. I am only thinking logically what needs to be done. Now if you prefer you can go inform Smuag and I'll find Thrandruil, it's your choice," Branwen said matter-of-factly, watching with amusement as Dwalin glanced warily up at the mountain, then without so much as a word turned and marched towards a group of elves milling near the ruins of Dale.
Branwen wiped her hands over her exhausted face and began the long hard climb up to the secret door. The Great Doors had been sealed more than a century ago, but before midday dawned they would be opened for the first time in over a hundred years.
Warnings
"You have the stink of the Valaaaarrrr on youuuu. Tell me, why does a dwarf entreat with the goddddsss?" Smuag sneeringly echoed around the great chamber, as Branwen slowly descended the great staircase. She was exhausted and too overwhelmed by the nights events to rise to his challenge.
"And there I thought I smelt like blood and sweat," Branwen retorted mildly, scaling the great pile of treasure chests he used as a pillow. Smuag blew a great cloud of smoke at her, making her have to wave her hands in front of her eyes to see. "We have carried a great victory but it was hard fought," Branwen began.
"I care not for blood and battles, I have seen too much for one for one to taaaaake," Smuag lowered his massive head to his golden and closed his eyes as if in sleep. "But I see othersssss trouble you, Branwennnnnn daughter of Thorin Oakenshieeeld."
Branwen bristled at the idea of him knowing all along and not mentioning but refused to argue with the great beast, Smuag flicked his forked tongue out in amusement.
"A great many have lost their homes and come to the mountain seeking winter refuge. I humbly request that we may open the gates and allow; men of Laketown, Ironfoots and the Elves of Mirkwood safe housing,"-
"You ask, when you have every right to taaaake," asked Smuag quizzically, only bothering to open one eye.
"I could take but I would not dishonour or disrespect your council Old one," Branwen defended herself with indignation. He may be a dragon, but he was intelligent and wise; this was his home as much as theirs. He'd allowed them to make peace and he'd signed an official contract.
Smaug's snout curled a little but Branwen couldn't discern his expression, closing his eye, the dragon tucked his head down into his nest of coins. "The lower mead hall and the council chambers are inhabitable and I think suiteeeed. It will keep them in the Western side of the mountain until arrangements can be maaaade."
Branwen nodded her thanks and decided to leave the dragon to his slumber, as she turned to go Smuag raised his massive head suddenly and stared down at her with horrifying intensity. "The Thief is lost amid the wandering spirits, but their souls are already gone and cannot be stoleeennnnn."
Deep and rumbling, his word were heavy with warning, Branwen knew little about souls but understood enough of his riddle: Find Bilbo.
Tactics
"Has anyone seen a Halfling?! He has curly hair, shoulder height, tattered waistcoat, massive feet?" Branwen asked a group of Dain's soldiers urgently. Dotted outside the ruins of Dale were tiny camps and rows upon rows of soldiers tents, hastily put up and with little organisation. They shook their heads and returned their empty gazes to the camp fire.
Branwen moved on, scurrying fire to fire, searching though exhausted weighed down her limbs. "A what?" a Laketown man snapped as he had his head wrapped in a thick white bandage.
"A hobbit. About four feet tall, curly hair, massive feet," Branwen told the man, nervous energy making her stomach roll with nausea.
"Can't say that I have. You, Fleans?" the injured man asked his Healer.
"Not that I can recall but if you're looking for someone tall dark and handsome, I can do for..." Branwen punched the Healer in the gut before stalking away.
She had seen him! She was certain, Bilbo had hamstringed Azog and stared at her before disappearing. Surely he had not left for the Shire. But everywhere she looked the Hobbits fate seemed to get poorer and poorer.
Though the elves had rallied and set up a medical bay, the walking wounded and dying laid were everywhere Branwen looked. It was chaos: Children screamed for their mothers and mothers screamed for their husbands they would never see again.
This was one thing Bow had never experienced, the aftermath, the repercussions that echoed through the family down to the bare bones. She had never stuck around to see what her actions caused, but Branwen was learning quickly that all consequences were bitter.
Branwen's head snapped around as she heard her name being shouted. Dwalin emerged from the crowd, flanked by a very bedraggled looking Company with the exception of Oin. She let out a long breath that she hadn't realised she had been holding.
They were a sight for sore eyes. Nori was limping badly with a bloody bandage wrapped round his thigh, Dori was fussing Ori whose right arm was wrapped in a sling with a crutch tucked under his other arm, Bofur had a bad cut down his cheek and Bifur was slumped to one side, Branwen guessed with broken ribs. But all things considered, they seemed well .
"My friends... it is good to see you are alive." She smiled at them individually, struggling to form words as a warm burning feeling spread through her chest. The Company chuckled, breaking the uncomfortable silence when Balin stepped forward and knelt at her feet.
"My Princess, we are at your service," his voice was fierce and determined, the others made to do the same but Branwen waved her hands in panic.
"No, no, do not kneel. There is no need," Branwen protested with embarrassment
"But you are the line of Durin, royal blood..." Balin said peevishly as Branwen put her hands on Balin shoulders and helped the old dwarf to his feet.
"You befriended a wilding who happened to know a quick way to the mountain and I would like to keep it that way. Besides there is too much to be done, ceremony makes things much longer," Branwen reassured him mildly, smirking as the old bureaucrat hummed loudly. The rest of the Company seemed thankful, Dwalin was a warm comforting presence at her side as they turned and began to make their way down the main street of the Dale ruins, keeping the pace slow as exhaustion set into all of them.
"I have sent for Bard, Dain and Thrandruil as you requested, they will meet outside Thorin's tent," Dwalin told her stiffly.
"Right then, when Thorin's better he'll no doubt appoint his own council but to stop Dain trying to take over as he no doubt will, I suggest that Company as a whole takes charge." Branwen declared loudly, the Company began to murmur at her words. They paused for a moment as a group of elves carrying a tent blocked their path.
"Balin, we need to find out what resources and stores we have and how long they will last. Winter is fast approaching and we need to know what kind of numbers we need to provide for. Nori, I believe you have network contacts, can you see what supplies you can dig up," Balin nodded grimly and stroked his white beard in deep thought, Nori puffed out his chest proudly .
"Gloin and Bifur, we need perimeter defences and scouts in case of a counter attack. Beorn will help and I'll see Dain and Thrandruil do too," Branwen paused to take a breath and caught an approving look off Dwalin. The elves finally moved and they continued on their way.
"Bofur, take as many dwarves as you can find and prepare the lower mead hall and the council chambers –"
"Whatever for?" Bofur exclaimed, pushing himself to Branwen's side.
"We need to put all these people somewhere. Smuag believes that the halls are stable enough. We can't have the injured out here in the snow for long," she snapped matter-of-factly, stepping over a large boulder that lay in the middle of the path.
"But the doors are locked and we can't get them through Rook," Bofur said in exasperation, wiping blood out of his eye with the back of his grimy sleeve.
"From my understanding, the doors are only locked from the outside,..." Branwen said slowly, waiting for the penny to drop.
"Ah..." was the only thing Bofur said before the dwarf fell back in line with the others.
"Bombur, once Balin has numbers, look at the food supply. For the time being, salvage what you can. Get some Laketowners to help. I'm sure once Thorin is up he'll send for supplies from some of the other clans..." Branwen's words trailed off when she heard the shaky intakes of breath and choked sobs, turning she saw the grey looks on their faces. "What in Durin's name is the matter, you wouldn't think we'd just won a battle or anything?" she snapped, putting her hands on her hips but sobered quickly as Nori limped forward, his head bowed and his starfish hair flattened.
"Thorin's...you say he'll get better lass, but 'e'..." His voice was thick and husky, he swallowed loudly.
"But it was just a flesh wound, he's one of the strongest dwarves I know," she tried to convince herself. Dwalin put his hand on her shoulder and Branwen instinctively squeezed it for reassurance. Gloin stepped forward, looking pale under his flaming hair.
"Oin fears..." the warrior swallowed and brushed impatiently at his eyes. "Oin fears he will not live out the morning,"
Branwen felt the earth tilt dangerously under her feet and a great weight pressed down on her ribs. A dry ache formed in the back of her neck and her gut turned into lead. "Have you seen him?" she heard herself asked. The Company nodded slowly but refused to meet her eyes.
"He is fading fast lass, he's not really seeing us," Gloin mumbled softly, shaking his head and studying the ground.
"Did he ask for me?" Branwen asked, dread and pain welling in her heart.
"It is not a sight for children," Gloin said mournfully, giving her a sympathetic look.
"I am not a child!" Branwen retorted dangerously in no mood to be mollycoddled.
"No, you are not but I would not want my Gimli to see his Father's broken body as he died. That should not be his last memory and it should not be yours." Gloin stepped forward and looked down at her earnestly, resting his hands onto of his bloodied axe.
Branwen took a deep breath and tried to drag her fingers through her hair, but it was mattered with thick dried blood. After staring at the ground for a moment, she turned to Balin. She knew she would get a answer out of him whether she wanted to or not.
"How at risk is he?" she asked, keeping her voice void of emotion.
"It's not looking hopeful. He's lost his will to fight with the youngun's...with Kili and Fili..." His voice choked and Balin pressed his face into Dori's shoulder.
Branwen considered her words very carefully, "Thorin and me did not part on the best of terms." She paused and gathered strength, steadying herself. "I know I abandoned you and I know I have no right to ask it but, I would ask that you come with me, for company and advice and I don't know the way..." Nerves got the better of her and she rambled until Ori jumped in.
"You may ask anything of us, we are your Company as much as Thorin's," Ori assured fervently, his beady black eyes shining like fireflies in a darkened sky.
A lump in her throat prevented her from speaking so she inclined her head in thanks and followed behind them at a distance. Dwalin remained at her side, like a warm thick blanket and Branwen was beginning to understand the comfort having those strong arms at her back felt like. Strong and capable and constant, like when she would leap into his arms and would always be there to catch her. It was a new experience for Branwen but it was a pleasant one.
Crowds of refugees parted and seemed to cower back as the Company made their way through the ruins of Dale to the very center of the old town. Thorin's tent was made of white Elvin cloth with gold stitching, Branwen smiled to think what Thorin would say when he found out.
But they stopped abruptly by a large group of Ironfoots, who were milling outside the tent. Branwen tensed as the Ironfoots lumbered to their feet and took hold of their weapons, drawing herself to her full height she pushed through the Company and stood before the superior officer.
"What is the meaning of this?" Branwen demanded as the officer blocked her path by shoving his spear across her chest.
"King Dain of the Ironhills is in conference with Thorin Oakenshield," the guard barked in a soldiers clipped tone.
"Thorin is in no fit state to be in council with anyone at the moment, let alone with Dain," Balin declared pushing his way after Branwen. Just then a dwarf dressed in rich purples robes pushed the flaps of the tent aside and stuck his head out, eying them reproachfully.
"King Dain need contracts signed and deeds completed if he's to take control of proceedings while King Thorin is indisposed. And we do not wished to be disturbed," the dwarf snapped haughtily. Just as he went into the tent Branwen shoved passed the guard and grabbed the pompous dwarf by the beard, pulling his squirming face under her eyes and pulling her lips back in distain.
"How dare you try and steal his kingdom from under him! Laying with injuries from battle, you should be ashamed of yourself," Branwen growled, seething with deadly anger.
"What is the meaning of all this shouting, and who dares call Dain a Thief?" a great booming voice called from inside the tent. The curtains were thrown back and a large shaggy haired dwarf with shocking streaks of grey running through his beard appeared.
Branwen straightened her back and stared defiantly at Dain. "I do! You dare try and manipulate the king when he lays half dead."
"I am not trying to manipulate anyone! I am doing what is right and taking control before this situation gets worse than it already is!" Dain bellowed and his men grew tenser, resting their hands on their weapons.
"This is why you should let us do our job. The Company have managed so far without your help and conspiracies. Now let me in. I demand to see Thorin!" Branwen barked, seething with anger, her fists clenched tight at her side. Dain took a step toward her and glowering down at her. She felt the Company stiffen and Dwalin visibly tense.
"And why should I? By all accounts the great Bow Traveller abandoned Thorin when his need was greatest," Dain growled darkly, jutting his ratty face towards her face.
"So sayeth Dain, the king and kin who didn't lift a finger when all odds were against the Company it was our task and ours alone you said, but when all the spoils are being shared, you come cap in hand. Least I asked for no gold. Now let me pass!" Branwen snarled back, Dain's guards stepped towards them only to be blocked by Gloin and Dwalin.
"Not a chance," Dain spat through his teeth.
"As daughter of Thorin Oakenshield, I command you," Khuzdul rolled seamlessly off her tongue as easily as water drops off a leaf. Her words were met with a stunned silence, Dain's men stood awestruck and the Company tried to stifle their smiles of pride.
But Dain's shock broke into manic laughter. "You! You are no more than an urchin! Thorin had no children or heir. That is why he named Fili but when he fell the honour descends to me,"
"I will swear it in any language I know and spill my blood in oath, but whatever I do I doubt you would ever believe me. I have the declaration from his own lips and my own memories, more over from the mouth of the great Smith himself. You want me proof, speak with Dwalin son of Fundin, he is after all my godfather."
She took this opportunity to duck under Dain's outstretched arm, turning back just as she was about to close the curtains. "Bombur make sure I am no disturbed, if you please."
The fat dwarf nodded with determination and sat down in front of the flap, crossing his thick arms over his chest in determination. He was a dwarf who would not be moved.
Blood and Fear
As the curtains closed the noises of the world outside were blocked off. Nothing else mattered,there was nothing else, save the sound of Branwen's boots brushing against the stone floor and the brittle rasp of Thorin's breathing.
The inside of the tent seemed like a barren wasteland. It was cold and sparse, the chill in the air made Branwen's breath rise like smoke from her mouth but the cold ran deeper, flowing down into her bones: it was the chill of death. There were few furnishings save a chair in the corner, a nightstand with a jug of water and simple goblet. And there in a small bed, draped with white sheets lay Thorin.
Branwen had fought and ran to Thorin's side but now that the moment was here she couldn't move. She was frozen to the spot. Her muscles rejected every command and her feet rooted themselves to the earth.
There was a hitched intake of breath and a pained cough, Branwen closed her eyes as the breathing grew weaker and hoarser, until it seemed to boom in her ears like thunder. With a pounding heart and a numb feeling spreading through her fingers Branwen dared to inch closer to the bed.
Thorin's eyes were closed and his cheeks hallow. The rosy complexion of his face had drained away like the falling petals of a blossom, leaving his skin like pale marble. Branwen would have thought him a corpse if his breathing hadn't have sounded like nails against sandpaper. He looked so small, so fragile. The king was broken, his spirit shattered, leaving the weak husk of his damaged body behind.
His mail and under shirt had been removed. His torso and chest lay bare, save the bandages that laced his body like thick strands of a spiders web. Thorin's left shoulder was decimated, the arm was hanging on by tattered muscle, the bone shattered and his left bicep ripped to shreds by Azog's merciless mace. Branwen covered her mouth to stop from retching as bitter vomit violated her throat. Scarlet patches had began to seep though the starch whiteness of the bandages matching the parlour of his skin and his bloodless lips. His dark hair wreathed his face like a black halo streaked with silver.
Branwen's palm hovered over Thorin's chest for a moment before drawing it away and sinking to her knees, as if she were some puppet with its strings cut. Digging her nails into the mattress, she stared at the ground, refusing to register the pain of her breaking heart.
"I am so sorry. I am so so sorry. I wasn't there, I wasn't there by your side like I should have been. But I tried, I tried so hard to get to you, I couldn't...I couldn't..." Her angry words faltered, thick sobs clogged her throat and tears started to bead in her eyes. She tried to rub them away but they fell anyway.
The anger and pain and loneliness that had been building for so long spilled out raw and empty. Waves of unchecked emotions struck her, swallowed her up and drained her of all the barriers that she'd fought to protect. So she closed her eyes with bitter resignation and prayed.
"Aüle, if you are listening and by Durin's name I hope you are, I've done all you asked of me. I tried, I swear, I tried as hard as I could. But I still couldn't save Thorin, even after everything you did, I didn't save... But without him I can't save the mountain, I can't do this on my own. Not anymore. I can't be alone anymore. Just make him better and I'll do what you ask and more. Please, please I'm praying to you just this once. What more could I have done?!" she looked up to the sky and looked for answers in the pale fabric of the tents roof but none came. "What would you have had me do? Tell me?!"
Underneath her hands she felt the mattress shift slightly.
"Bow?" It was the barest of whispers but Branwen would have heard it hundreds of miles away, she stood as quickly as she could and cradled Thorin's hand, watching his blank face intently.
"Thorin ..." The name came out thick and shaky, catching painfully at the back of her throat.
"Bow..." Her old name was whispered through cracked bleeding lips and Thorin's fingers gave her hand the smallest of squeezes.
"Thorin, it's me, it's Branwen," she said pleadingly, half in dread that he wouldn't remember or reject or not see she was a changed person; a different person. What if he didn't know her?
"Branwen..." Thorin rasped, then a racking cough erupting from his chest so blood splattered his lips.
"I know you exiled me but, I... I remember, I remember all of it. The Rook and Mother and sneaking her apple biscuits with Dwalin and wrestling with you, just all of it. And I am so so sorry; I am so for everything." Her voice broke and she felt her lips tremble, Branwen covered her eyes for a moment trying to compose herself. She could have prevented so much death, so much hurt and suffering, if only she had seen!
Thorin's eyes flickered, dark thick lashes fluttering on his ashen cheeks, half lidded they opened; the brilliant blue of his eyes were dimed with pain and sorrow.
"Water," he said weakly, barely able to turn his head towards her. Branwen moved to the table and filled a goblet half full, then steadying the cup of water being careful not to brush his wound, she gently dribbled the cool liquid into his mouth. Thorin coughed and Branwen watched silently as blood trickled down the side of his mouth, mixing with the water from the goblet, then smoothed it away with her sleeve. Thorin tentatively licked his lips, watched her for a moment before speaking.
"Branwen, I found you at last but I fear too late. I can hear the calls of my forefathers," he said weakly, his voice barely a whisper. Branwen's throat convulsed and her eyes stung as tears fell down her cheeks, she grasped Thorin's hand like it was her lifeline.
"Don't you dare. I need you, more than ever,-" Branwen's voice broke and she struggled to take a calming breath, "Don't leave me on my own." Branwen raised his hand and pressed it to her cheek, kissing the inside of his coarse palm.
A ghost of a smile crossed Thorin's lips, "Branwen I am done, I cannot go on. Take the mountain and the gold. What need to I have for it now? What do I have to live for?" he sighed painfully, his rough fingers stroking faintly against her hair. Branwen withdrew from his touch and eyed him fiercely.
"What do you mean?! Thorin, your people need their king as much as I need my Father," Branwen whispered fiercely, the pain of his words mixing with the dread coiling painfully in her throat.
"I have waited decades for you to say that," Thorin remarked in the barest of whispers. His body heaved and his back arched in pain and his fist gripped the bed sheets, but Branwen took his hand and leant him what little strength she had left.
Panting, he settled down and Branwen watched in numb horror as long lines of blood began to stream from under the bandages at his chest. "I have seen too much blood for one person to take. I have seen my people brought to its knees in a morning, my Grandfather murdered in front of my eyes, and my Soulmate savaged by Orc's. My Father wanders lost to the wind and my Brother was cut down by slavers. You were all but a memory, Fili and Kili were my guiding stars and now..."His voice fell away into a painful intake of breath, his fingers contracted around hers and cold sweat shone of his dirt streaked brow. "I have no strength left to fight the world, I am done," his fevered skin and fiery temperature suddenly gave his eyes a brilliance that was like a star burning its last until disappearing into the darkness of space.
Even without Sight even Branwen knew that Thorin had lost his reason for living, if she didn't do something Thorin would...
"Thorin, listen to me!" she declared boldly, leaping to her feet and placing bother hands on either side of his pale face, she captured his eyes and didn't dare look away. "I am going to tell you something and I don't want you to overreact. But when I do I'm going to demand you stay alive," she said stubbornly.
"I think that's up to the Gods," Thorin said weakly, his breathing becoming a painful wheeze as Branwen soothed her thumbs over his temples.
"Your will is as powerful as theirs and you wouldn't dare die after what I've got to tell you," Branwen vowed, feeling his racing heart beat under her fingers.
"I swear," Thorin said without feeling, his brow crinkling in pain.
"Not good enough, swear on Mother's soul," Branwen ordered unyieldingly. Thorin's eyes widened in shock at this and he arched his brow, but even in his agonised state he swore in the ancient language of their forefathers. Satisfied , Branwen steadied her breathing and leant close to Thorin's ear, whispering five little words that would change the history of Erebor forever.
Thorin's eyes snapped open and his breathing hitched as the words resonated around his skull.
"Kili and Fili are alive..."
"What?!" Thorin bellowed trying to sit up but Branwen gently but firmly pressed his body back to the bed and pulled the covers over him, internally beaming that some of the colour had returned to his cheeks. Could she dare hope? Thorin was remarkably stubborn and stronger than anyone she'd ever known, he would not die.
"I will tell you more when you accept healers and start fighting again. We had a deal, remember?" Branwen said resting her hands on her hips.
"Why did you have to be so stubborn?" Thorin grumbled ruefully, closing his eyes and settling back down into the pillow.
"Well, with parents like you two, no wonder I got a double helping of stubborn rather than common sense." Branwen smiled and brushed away a lock of hair that stuck to Thorin's sweaty brow. Thorin smiled a little and he would have fallen asleep if not for Bombor poking his ginger head through the tent flap.
"Beggin' ya pardon but Bard and Thrandruil as you requested," the fat dwarf said, retreating quickly as Branwen cursed loudly in frustration at their timing, Thorin growled in half annoyance and half in pain.
"If he dare lay a hand on you again, I will sever each of his limbs on by one," Thorin seethed with venom, growing pale again.
"Well, at the moment, Thorin you're in no fit state to be severing anything but there is the sticky matter of rule. Dain was in here earlier trying to get you to sign over the mountain," Branwen began.
"I know, I was ignoring him," Thorin stated plainly, resting the back of his hand over his brow.
"Be that as it may, I raised the Company as council for the time being to stop Dain from monopolising," Branwen said matter-of-factly, preparing herself to be shouted out for being presumptuous. But instead Thorin let his hand fall from his eyes.
"Did you now?" Thorin looked at her squarely for a moment before patted her hand gently but reassuringly. "Send them in."
Branwen was taken aback and arched her eyebrow, thinking he was hallucinating, "Are you sure you're up to it?"
"If it leaves me in peace then let it be done," Thorin said sombrely, closing his eyes and nodding. Silently, Branwen parted the flap and tapped Bombur on the shoulder, beckoning the three lords forward: then returned to Thorin's side, studying each lord as they entered the tent.
Bard was first, looking bedraggled and weary but strong, giving Branwen a reassuring smile and nodding as he did so. Next came Dain, shooting her a cold glare, he went to Thorin's side and muttered something about "vengeance" and "usurpers", then took his place next to Bard, his eyes always watching Branwen.
All the hairs on her body stood on end and her back stiffened as Thrandruil ducked under the tent flap. Straightening to his full imposing height, he tilted his head slightly to Thorin and stared blankly at Branwen, letting his arctic blue eyes bore into her skull uncomfortably.
All was still, all waited on Thorin, Branwen could see he was remaining strong but lines of strain creased his face. His fingers dug into the sheets as he sucked in a wheezing breath.
"I will be as plain as my time on this earth is short. As such, I need someone to rule in my stead," Thorin began steadily, Dain's chest puffed out and he all but beamed mockingly at Branwen. "As my blood and rightful heir, I hand over my claim to the throne of Erebor and Ered Luin and all my worldly possessions to my daughter Branwen."
Dain made a choking noise and Branwen struggled to find words over a sudden whooshing sound in her ears.
"Thorin, you know I would gladly take charge while you recover but I could never take your crown," Branwen protested as she felt the world tilting away from her. Thorin turned his head and little and took her hand gently.
"It is in your blood, what you were born for," Thorin said quietly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"The hell she is! Who the hell is she anyway!?" Dain thundered wildly, making Bard shuffle his feet uncomfortably. Thrandruil was watching them all down the end of his noise.
"She is my daughter. I kept her a secret from those who would use my family against me, or does your memory play tricks on you Dain. Do you not recall the Raven at the Durin's Ball all those years ago?" Thorin snapped derisively, closing his eyes to Dain's dumbstruck face.
Thorin's words meant nothing to Branwen but Dain visibly paled under his dark beard. She couldn't think about this as racking coughs hit Thorin. Branwen braced her hand against the bandages on his chest and let him squeeze out the pain in her fingers. She waited until it subsided and his breathes calmed into a low wheeze. Branwen let out a long steadying sigh and reluctantly looked away from her father's prone figure.
"Gentlemen, let us continue this conversation outside," Branwen said in a tone that didn't invite argument. The two lords nodded grimly and Bard and Dain left the tent silently. Thrandruil stood stock still as a statue and as cold as ice, his face betrayed nothing but Branwen could guess that his mind was in turmoil. Then as quickly as he had come, he left and Branwen turned back to Thorin's side.
Pale as a corpse. His body had begun to shiver with fever and his eyes had rolled back into his head.
"Thorin, just hold on! I am going to make you well again. Remember you promised you would fight this." Branwen growled in determination.
Thorin swallowed and his hand clenched and unclenched around hers. "The halfing, he needs to know..." Thorin gasped for air.
"We're looking for him, he can't hide forever," Branwen explained as she stood, looking down at the King and memorising every line and wrinkle of his face.
Her father was dying and even though she had all the power of the mountain, she felt hopeless.
Smoothing her hand over his cheek, she pressed her lips to his brow, fear pooling in her chest as she felt the fever rage over Thorin's skin. "If you die, I will kill you," she stated forthright before turning on her heel and walking out the tent without looking back.
Right, so that was that. Hope your all still with me. And if you thought that was sad wait till next weeks chapter, which incidently will be called "The death of a king"
Also let me know what you want included in the epilogue.