The Investment
Disclaimer: I own none of Tolkien's works. And certainly not a dialogue I used here.
AN: The last chapter, people Thanks everyone who have been so lovely and patient and supportive. You guys are AMAZING!
Chapter 25
Thorin turned towards the direction where the sound came. For a while, he stood still wondering whether it was a figment of his imagination that he heard what he wanted to hear. He knew he couldn't tarry much. The battle was fierce, the strengths of his men were diminishing, the orcs were relentless in their attacks and even Thranduil— who had not shown a streak of exhaustion up till that point— was slowly appearing to be struggling.
He shook his head and whirled back, once again resuming a fighting stance, but his concentration broke when once more came the sound of horns.
Suddenly, he was filled with an immeasurable amount of relief. The web of pessimism was tearing itself apart. Thorin could see hope for this time, Thorin knew it was not his imagination. Because of its lack of harshness, he knew that it was no orc horn either. No, it was something that he desperately craved for. A much needed help.
He dodged the swing of an orc's sword and thrust his blade into the creature in a swift motion before rushing off to the edge of the walls. What he saw made his eyes grow big with an unbelievable joy.
Just over the edge of the horizon, he could see flags waving against the wind amidst the cloud of dust that enveloped around them. Slowly, the posts got bigger and before long, Thorin could properly see the emblem of gold on the forest green fabric.
"Aid has come! Mirkwood has come!" Cried someone from the back, delight evident in his voice. His declaration was quickly followed by a cheer from the dwarven army. Suddenly, gone was their fatigue. Gone was their pain from wounds and every single one of them took on their stance as if they had not been tired at all.
The horn was blown again and this time, even the orcs stilled at how close the sound came. Before they knew it, a cry of vigour filled the atmosphere. Within moments, orcs fell one by one at the onslaught of sharp arrows. Those who managed to get away could only sigh in relief for a moment before they were suddenly hurled by strong, tall armoured beings slashing their swords and spears into the enemy and taking them out with ease.
Thorin's heart skipped with a new found energy. He too gripped his weapon tightly and with a beat of his heart, leapt towards the herd of orcs, swinging his sword, dodging thers' blades, blocking attacks and taking out his enemies within the blink of an eye.
A flash of gold caught his eyes and with a grin on his face, he addressed, "The timing of elves still surprises me!"
He heard a scoff coming from the other who too grinned and replied, "The stubbornness of dwarves still do not fail to surprise me!"
"Nevertheless," Thorin said, covering the other's back as he took aim, "I am grateful to see your arrogant head, elfling."
Legolas laughed. "As I am to see your proud self, Thorin Oakenshield. I can never forgive myself if I let anything happen to the husband of my father whom he has grown quite fond of. As have I."
Thorin smiled and said, "As have I."
The battle waged on for hours. Orcs clashing against dwarves, elves blocking swords with orcs, arrows flying, screams of orcs filling the air, metals clanking restlessly in the background...all around there was massive carnage.
However, the battle ended. The orcs lost. Sauron lost. Those who were lucky to survive fled into the darkness, followed by elf scouts who hunted them down and were done with them. Those who still managed to dodge attacks scurried off to Mount Doom.
"This is not the end," said Thranduil tending to Legolas' wounds, glaring at his son who still hissed like a child when his wounds stung. Thorin had been bandaged before and was now resting on a rock opposite to the others.
"No and it will never be," replied Thorin, sweeping his eyes all around. They had suffered great damages. The loss of partial architecture of Erebor was a heavy toll however the loss of lives were many. He closed his eyes and offered silent prayers for the fallen ones. When he opened them, a simmering flame of anger was burning in those orbs, resolve hardening in them as he spoke, "Not until we vanquish Sauron completely."
"It will not be easy," reminded Thranduil, "for he possesses the One Ring. And we have seen its wrath. Once Sauron gathers his strength, he will come with his full power and he will not cease till all lies in ruin."
"Though we are aware and we shall have time to make necessary arrangements of our own," Legolas finally spoke up, drawing the attention of the other two, "And we shall soon have one who has seen the ring closely. This creature...Gollum , as Lord Elrond said, has been corrupted by its power. We shall have an insight as to what we are dealing with."
Thranduil nodded firmly and asked for confirmation, "Have you any word of how long before the Man brings him to our cellars?"
"Soon enough, Ada. He has already started making his way."
"Then we shall wait. In time all evil comes forth(1). We wait."
Years had passed and within that long span, Thorin and Thranduil's all but lessened. Those who still had doubts of the relationship between elves and dwarves had no rumour to spread. They accepted Thranduil heartily as the elves had done for Thorin.
Erebor was rebuilt. Its architecture was further strengthened and the elves of Mirkwood had helped with food, medicines and other basic necessities during the dire times.
Legolas refused to take the place of his father. He acted as interim and under his young and capable hands with occasional advice from his father, the King, Mirkwood saw good days.
One day mortality caught up Thorin. He grew older and weaker and despite the unaltered love from his husband, Thorin could not withhold his oldage any longer.
He would close his eyes for hours on days and dream about the time he had spent with people in his life—the fights with Thranduil, the love he had with the elvenking, his subjects, friends, nephews...till one day, he closed his eyes and never opened them again.
Thranduil would be left heartbroken but he would mend it swiftly. He would not recollect Thorin's death but the glorious time he spent with him. He would weep but not for long. For he had promised to his love on his deathbed.
And it was one promise Thranduil never intended to break.
Erebor in capable hands of Thorin's elder nephew Fíli, he eventually would move back to Mirkwood and resume his post as the king of the Woodland Realm. He would see a glimpse of what was yet to come in form of Gollum. The rest is well known in history.
In spite of everything, Thorin would always be in his heart and whenever he would close his eyes, he could see one face: handsome jaws, soulful eyes with a warm smile. He could listen to the recurring words which the face would whisper just as he did before his demise, "Do not succumb to grief. For within you shall I live."
And Thranduil did not. Within him, Thorin lived and their love was a tale that would span thousands of years.
AN: (1) Yeah you know where you heard that line. ;)
So...The End for this story. Till next time~