Baranthor flew. By the Maker, his heart nearly burst. He rallied what help he could but didn't stick around to wait for the reinforcements to organize. He was out of time. Fíli needed him now. And in his heart, he feared that he might already be too late.
Nothing happened.
Well, that's not exactly true. If anything the silence intensified after Thorin's challenge, raising the hair on the dwarves' arms. Several heartbeats later, torchlight pushed back the darkness in the recesses of the tower. Screeching and hissing echoed through the ruins. Bolg prowled out of the tower, appearing on a ledge above them.
Fíli found the sight oddly comforting. At least one of his nightmares about today wouldn't be coming true. Thorin waited on the edge of the crumbling bridge, a statue in the midst of all the ice and debris of the watchtower. Bolg chuckled - if the harsh sound issuing from his throat could be called that.
"Come, spawn of Durin," grated the horrid beast. Fíli cringed over the Westron words as they clawed their way out of Bolg's mouth. Each syllable ground and crunched between his teeth like rocks being pulverized into dust. "My blade thirsts for your blood."
"That's disgusting," Kíli muttered.
"Keep moving," Dwalin hissed.
They circled around, the attention of Bolg and his minions focused on Thorin.
"Your blade will starve," Thorin replied calmly. Fíli could hear the smile in his voice and couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corner of his own mouth. Dwalin reached back, resting his fist against Fíli's chest.
Two flights of steps blocked their path. One marched up while the other curled down. A third path lead into the tower through a splintered archway. Dwalin's head tipped back as he craned to see where the flight up lead. The flight down disappeared from sight after only a few steps, and the path straight into the tower made an abrupt left turn only three feet in. Dwalin shot Fíli a look, expression grim. He brought his fists together and abruptly broke them apart. Fíli shook his head. Dwalin pressed his lips together and signed the motion again more vigorously. Fíli breathed heavily through his nose, but Kíli gripped his sleeve as the clang of metal on metal signaled the beginning of Thorin's duel. Dwalin grabbed Fíli's chin, bringing his attention back.
No time, he signed.
Fíli gritted his teeth. Fine! he replied in frustration.
Dwalin pointed at Kíli and nodded toward the steps leading down. Kíli frowned and after a brief squeeze of Fíli's arm, slipped to the lower levels. Dwalin thumbed at his own chest and pointed at the cracked archway, leaving Fíli to the steps leading up. As he ducked inside, Fíli took a deep breath, staring at the upper levels of the tower. It was Thorin's grunt of pain below that finally got him moving. He shoved his fear aside, allowing his mind to clear. If he didn't keep a level head, he was as good as dead anyway.
Dwalin never really liked the stealthy approach. He was more the 'charge in and bust heads' type. That didn't mean he wasn't capable of stealth, however. Orc number ten was already dead on the ground before the others on his level noticed something amiss. But when they did, all hell broke loose.
"That's right, you stinking vermin! Bring your pretty faces to my axes!"
Kíli crept through the eerily silence punctuated by Thorin and Bolg's duel. He met no one, heard no one. Eventually, he found himself at the ground level entrance to the tower, the oak door having decayed long ago. The doorway opened right onto the frozen river hugging the base of the watchtower, and not twenty feet away battled Thorin and Bolg. Kíli's uncle struggled, the exhaustion of the past week taking its toll. The pale orc hammered away at him relentlessly, driving Thorin to the ice over and over again. Somehow, Thorin would rise every time, though from whence he summoned the strength Kíli could not say. Regardless, Thorin was losing. And Bolg knew it.
Kíli prayed that his mother would forgive him and proceeded to do the most reckless thing he could think of. He charged.
Fíli scrambled across the upper floor of the tower, chasing his blade as it skittered away. Five orcs were a bit many to take on alone, but it's not like he meant to fight them all at once. His intention had been to take out one or two before being spotted. Unfortunately, as with most things in life, it didn't exactly go according to plan. The wind must have shifted or something because the blasted archers on the top floor knew he was coming. Having lost the element of surprise, he did his best with the hand he was dealt. Admittedly, that wasn't going so well just now. He briefly lamented the loss of his throwing knives before snatching up a discarded arrow shaft and plunging it into one archer's foot. The creature yowled. Fíli grabbed its ankles and yanked them out from under it, sending the orc toppling from the tower. Hearing the satisfying crunch as it hit the bottom, Fíli managed to get a hold of his sword and bring it up in time to block another attack. One of the archers gained some sense and stood back from the others, training his bow on Fíli who grunted and hauled another orc into the arrow's path. He squealed and fell dead, giving Fíli time to roll to his feet. He made quick work of the remaining orcs and stood for a moment, catching his breath.
From his vantage point the whole world unfolded. He had full command of the battlefield, and he admitted that Bolg chose an excellent base. The view from above was even less encouraging than the one from the field itself, though a glimpse of an enormous bear tearing through the goblin ranks brought a smile to Fíli's face. He should have known that an army of goblins could not pass through Beorn's lands unnoticed. Movement on the cliff face below the tower sent Fíli sprinting for the stairs. Goblins. Dozens of them.
"THERE'S MORE COMING!"
Dwalin decapitated the last orc as Fíli's warning reverberated off the walls.
"Damn."
Thorin slipped, his foot shooting out from beneath him. The air rushed from his lungs as his back connected with the ice. Bolg howled in victory, bringing his blade over head for the killing blow.
"RRAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
A flying object of golden mail and dark hair connected with the giant Gundabad orc, bringing him crashing to the ice. He rolled, casting Kíli off his back with a snarl. Thorin fought to move, but the lack of air crippled him. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as Bolg hauled his nephew up by the hair. Kíli screamed, slashing wildly with his sword. The orc snorted derisively before hurling him across the ice.
"Kíli," Thorin rasped. Bolg glanced between uncle and nephew, realizing a connection. Sneering at Thorin, he turned to where Kíli landed in a heap, his intent clear.
"NO!" howled Thorin. Up. Running. He dropped to his knees, slashing across Bolg's calves as he slid between them. Driving Orcrist's hilt into the ice and bringing himself to an abrupt halt, Thorin crawled to his feet as Bolg dropped to one knee, hissing in irritation.
"Kíli, get up!"
Fíli raced out of the tower, Dwalin on his heels. In front of them, Thorin stood over Kíli who lay sprawled on the ice. He moaned and gasped, clutching at his ribs. Fíli's heart pounded painfully.
"Kíli!"
"I'm fine!" his brother grunted and stood, hefting his sword as Bolg charged.
"Fíli, come on!" Dwalin said, gesturing to the first goblins breaching the cliff face. "They can handle it!"
Fíli grimaced and tore his eyes away, forcing himself to follow Dwalin. Not a moment too soon. Goblins swarmed up and over, screeching in delight when they spotted two dwarves running toward them. Fíli smiled grimly. They wouldn't be so happy in a few moments. These vermin had no idea who they were tangling with. Dwalin roared and decapitated two goblins in one sweeping movement, driving his shoulder into the abdomen of a third. Fíli slowed a several paces behind, putting himself in the path of any stragglers who managed to escape Dwalin's ax blades.
Thorin grunted as Bolg's blade slamming against his own sent shock waves of pain from hand to shoulder. The orc drove him to his knees. A disgusting leer twisted his features, making him more hideous, if that was even possible. Thorin gagged as Bolg's foul breath washed over him, clouding his vision. A cracking blow sent him crashing to the ice as the orc headbutted him. Dazed and unable to block the blow, Thorin's head lolled. Bolg's blade scythed down.
Sparks flew and the black metal glanced away from Thorin's chest.
Kíli.
Kíli was losing. A poorly deflected blow. A tortured hiss. Blood. Too much blood soaking Kíli's leg. A punch to the face. A meaty hand wrapped iron fingers around Kíli's throat. Gasping.
Thorin launched to his feet, teetering on the thick surface of the river. He roared and leapt as Bolg raised his blade for the fatal blow, landing awkwardly on the monsters back and grappled for a hold. Bolg snarled in irritation. In his surprise he released Kíli who crumpled wheezing to the ice. Bolg struggled to snatch Thorin from his back, but the dwarf ducked his attempts and drove Orcrist deep into the orc's chest. Howling in rage, Bolg had enough presence of mind for one last dirty trick.
He fell forwards.
A guttural gasp ripped from Thorin's throat as the tip of Orcrist exited Bolg's back and embedded in Thorin's abdomen.
"Fíli, watch your flank!"
The boy dove, using his momentum to drive his sword through the goblin's heart. After several minutes of savage combat, Dwalin and Fíli were surrounded by corpses.
"Well, now," Dwalin said heavily. "That wasn't so bad."
Fíli brushed at a cut across his cheek. His fingers were smeared with blood. Dwalin grasped his chin and turned his face to the side, inspecting the wound.
"Ach, 'tis not bad."
"DWALIN!"
Kíli's tormented scream had them sprinting before they even knew what happened.
"Thorin," Dwalin whispered brokenly.
Thorin lay beside Bolg. Kíli knelt over him, hands pressed firmly to a seeping wound in Thorin's torso. Blood soaked everything - their clothes, the ice.
"It's not all his," Kíli murmured in agitation. He shook. Fíli dropped to his side while Dwalin examined Thorin's wound as best he could. A deep gash on Kíli's left thigh was the cause of most of the blood. Fíli immediately shed his mail, tearing strips from the tunic beneath. After firmly bandaging the wound, earning more than one hiss from his brother, he turned to Thorin.
"How is he?"
Dwalin's face seemed carved from stone. He shook his head slowly.
"His heart still beats, but he's stopped breathing."
Something shifted in Fíli. All the fear and worry receded into some other place in his mind, and instinct took over. He adjusted his position, scooting closer to Thorin's chest. He put his ear to his uncle's mouth, but no breath warmed his skin. No sound.
"Oh no, you don't," he growled.
Folding his hands together, he leaned over Thorin and began pumping at the pace of his heart beat. After several seconds, he paused and Dwalin checked for any breath. A shake of the head, and Fíli was at it again.
"Keep applying pressure," he shot at Kíli. The next words out of his mouth were insults.
"Come on, you bastard. You led us all the way here. You beat the gold sickness. You beat it. You killed Bolg. You're not going to die now. Not after everything you've been through. You hear me? Don't you do it, Thorin!"
A cough, a shudder. Then, weakly, "Kindly stop beating on my chest."
Dwalin laughed and clapped Fíli on the shoulder. "Well done, lad!"
Kíli sighed shakily. "That was too close."
Fíli couldn't agree more. "Alright," he said smartly and stripped off more pieces of his tunic. Gently lifting Kíli's hands, he began packing the wound.
"We need to get out of here," Dwalin murmured. "That wound needs better attention than we can give it."
"We can't move him," Fíli said. "Not without making it worse."
"What do we do?" croaked Kíli, who by now was looking quite pale. Fíli inspected the bruises forming on his neck and winced in sympathy.
"I don't know."
Having reached his friends at the front only to find that Thorin and the others were making for Ravenhill, Bilbo's heart dropped to his curly-haired toes. He could already see hordes of goblins scaling the cliff and a group of orcs and wargs circling around the long way. To make matters worse, the situation on the battlefield was steadily growing worse. Elves, men and dwarfs fell left and right, and screams rose from Dale with thick columns of smoke.
He had to get to Ravenhill. Well, more importantly he had to get help to Ravenhill. A bellowing roar made his hair stand on end as a giant bear tore through the goblin ranks toward the dwarves. Dain's warriors cried out and leveled their pikes at it, but Thorin's company protested. Eventually, Dain called for his soldiers to stand down since the bear seemed to be more intent on helping them than hurting them.
"Never in all my years," he grumbled.
"Beorn!" cried Bilbo trying to flag the bear down. The skinchanger leveled one big eye on him, and he pointed frantically to Ravenhill. "Fíli and the others are up there! They need help!"
Beorn grunted and spun on his heel, barreling through the goblin ranks as he made a beeline for Ravenhill.
"FÍLI!"
Fíli's jaw dropped as Beorn charged through the debris of Ravenhill.
"Durin's beard," murmured Dwalin. "Someone's looking out for us today."
"The halfling said you were in trouble," grated Beorn.
"We were," Fíli said quickly, "and we still are. Thorin's wounded, but we have no means to move him. He needs to see a physician."
Beorn ambled over and gingerly gathered him up. "I will take him to safety."
"Hurry, please," Fíli begged. "We'll be right behind you."
Thorin weakly reached out, his fingers ghosting over Fíli's cheek. "Be careful."
Fíli nodded. The bear turned, bounding away while managing not to jostle Thorin even a little.
"Let's get going," Dwalin urged. Kíli lurched to his feet, leaning heavily on his right leg.
"Can you walk?" Fíli asked.
Kíli gritted his teeth and nodded once. "I can manage."
A howl pierced the stillness of Ravenhill, rooting the dwarves in place.
"That's far too close," Dwalin said edgily.
"Let's get this over with," grunted Kíli.
Fíli sighed and spun his sword.
Stinking wargs. If Kíli never again saw another of those beasts, it'd be too soon. The attack was sudden and brutal, driving the dwarves apart instantly. Kíli wished he had his bow, but he admitted that it probably wouldn't have helped much. His reflexes already slowing from blood loss, he took several hits that should have been easily parried and missed more than one blow that ought to have hit its mark. He managed to bring one warg down out of sheer luck, really. Unfortunately, the killing blow left him open to a charging orc rider.
The warg dodged at the last moment, grazing Kíli's shoulder as the orc drove his foot into Kíli's chest, sending him sprawling down the river toward the cliff. He scrabbled for purchase on the slick surface and found none. Desperate, he drove his sword into the ice, wrenching his shoulder and halting his careening progress toward a terrifying two hundred foot drop. His feet dangled over the edge.
"That was close."
Growling froze him in place. He struggled to stand, but his sword arm was useless. Probably dislocated, he thought deliriously. Somehow he got his feet under him, taking up his sword in his left hand. He wished he was ambidextrous like Fíli. Not that wishing does me any good now.
The warg rider smirked as his beast stalked closer, as if he had all the time in the world. Kíli clenched his teeth and sneered at the orc filth.
"COME ON, YOU BASTARD!"
Multiple things about his brother's challenge caught Fíli's attention immediately. First, the distance his voice carried. Too far away. Second, pain scratched at his throat, making his voice raw. Kíli could handle quite a bit of pain with no outward evidence of the fact. This was serious. Third, his challenge didn't carry the tone of merely goading an enemy to attack. Kíli was resigned, accepting of his fate. He was giving up.
"KÍLI!"
Sounds faded to the steady pound of blood in his ears.
Purple spots clouded his peripherals.
Unsure and uncaring of how he accomplished it, he broke free of the three warg riders surrounding him. With a yell, he launched himself at the nearest warg's side and slew the rider, casting him to the ground. The warg snarled and bucked, but Fíli drove his sword down into the beasts skull and hauled the hilt sideways toward Kíli. The beast stumbled a few steps before gaining speed, and Fíli howled fiercely. It had the desired effect.
The warg advancing on Kíli whirled, surprising its rider. Fíli freed his sword and catapulted from his warg's back as it slammed face first into the ice, the momentum causing it to collide with the other beast's legs. Fíli barreled into the orc as the wargs skidded over the cliff. A swift twist of his blade and the orc was finished, eyes lolling back into its head. Fíli spat in disgust.
"HELP!"
Heart in his throat, Fíli realized that his brother was nowhere to be seen. He scrambled to the edge of the cliff where Kíli stood only moments before. His brother clung to his sword, driven into the ice like a pick, a foot down the frozen waterfall.
"Take my hand!"
Kíli winced and groaned, "I can't!"
Reaching down, Fíli gripped his brother's wrist with both hands. "I've got you, Kíli. Let go of the sword."
Kíli did so, and Fíli grunted at the extra weight. When did he get so heavy?
"You need to lay off seconds, brother."
"Ha," Kíli said mirthlessly. "Pull me up!"
Fíli's body scooted forward an inch. Kíli's weight was pulling him over. "You've got to give me your other hand, Kíli."
Kíli tried, Mahal save him. His shoulder muscles screamed. Sweat drenched his brow. "It hurts too much," he panted.
Fíli slipped further. "I know it does, Kíli. Hey! Look at me."
Kíli groggily complied.
"FÍLI, HURRY!" Dwalin bellowed somewhere above. Fíli shot a look over his shoulder and paled. He looked back at Kíli, frantic. Then, for reasons unexplained, his face relaxed completely.
"Do you trust me, brother?"
Kíli swallowed. That didn't bode well. But of course he did.
"With my life," he rasped.
"Good," Fíli grunted. Then he let go.
Kíli's stomach crowded into his chest as he fell, his mind having no room for a single thing other than internal screaming. He fell several yards before a great shadow snatched him out of the air.
"We really must stop meeting this way, Friend Kíli!"
Fíli shoved himself back from the edge as the great eagle soared up and over him.
"Get him to Oín!" he barked.
Baranthor screeched and tucked his wings, diving for the Mountain.
"I saved a few for you, Fíli!" shouted Dwalin.
"You shouldn't have," Fíli retorted. Dwalin laughed.
Luck has a terrible habit of running out. Fíli's body wound down, energy reserves spent after the recent surge of adrenaline. When fighting wargs, it is best to keep distance between them and oneself. The remaining orcs and wargs tightened the noose, cutting off any escape. Attacking at once, they made it exceedingly difficult to keep one's guard up. Consequently, a paw cuffed Fíli, raking claws across his face and leaving him dazed. Half rising, he barely made it to his knees before vertigo and gravity conspired against him. Dwalin's voice pounded in his skull.
"GET UP! FÍLI!"
Which way is up?
Blood ran in his left eye. The vision in his right doubled and tripled. A small part of his subconscious reminded him that being blind wasn't conducive to surviving a fight.
Focus, Dwalin reminded himself as an orc's blade whistled past his nose. Two wargs and three orcs left. The orcs he dispatched quickly, but while he dealt with the first warg, the second seized Fíli in its maw and shook him violently.
"DROP HIM!" Dwalin raged. The warg growled and locked its jaw, forcing a strangled whimper from its victim. Dwalin's vision blazed red, sending him into the depths of blind fury. When he returned to himself, he stood over a decapitated corpse. Silence settled heavily over Ravenhill, save for his own heavy panting and Fíli's ragged, whistling breaths.
The world turned upside down.
Dwalin dropped his weapons and vaulted the dead warg, sprinting to the spot Fíli fell. Too bright blood against a skin far more pale than it had any right to be, the boy was motionless aside from the erratic rise and fall of his chest. Dwalin reached for him, but his hands halted inches away, unsure if he should touch. He didn't want to do more harm than had already been done, and he remembered belatedly that Fíli shed his armor to save Thorin.
"Damn you and your bleeding heart," Dwalin muttered brokenly. "So quick to help others that you pay no mind for yourself."
Fíli stirred, his right eye fluttering open. Dwalin cringed at the sight. Three deep gashes were responsible for the blood obscuring most of his face, the left eye failing to open as a result.
"Did we win?" Fíli croaked.
Dwalin choked something part sob, part chuckle. "Aye, that we did."
Eagle cries split the air above them as the great creatures soared over them and descended on the battle field below.
"Will you look at that," Dwalin said in awe. "Looks like the cavalry's here. Perhaps this day will turn out in our favor after all."
Racking coughs shook Fíli, and Dwalin scooted closer, drawing the boy's head in his lap. "Shh, now. Easy, lad."
Fíli inhaled shakily after the fit subsided. "They're...safe now."
Dwalin smiled, tears filling his eyes. "You made sure of that, didn't you?"
The boy sighed, his good eye drifting shut, body going still.
Dwalin's heart galloped erratically. "Fíli?"
No response.
"FÍLI!"
Fíli's eye flew open, brows drawing in confusion. "Dwalin?"
"Here, lad."
"Did we win?"
Dwalin stifled a whimper. "Aye..."
Fíli smiled crookedly, his eye already rolling back.
"Oh, no you don't! Don't you dare give up now, Fíli. You hear me? Don't you dare give up now!"
Fíli's eye wandered, seeing nothing.
"You've come too far. You didn't give up on Thorin. So you damn well better not give up on yourself. Don't you see-"
Dwalin broke off, his voice catching. "You're just as important, you idjit. Stay with me, Fíli. Don't give up."
A/N: To the wonderful guest Dojoson41: My apologies for not responding to you sooner! I wish there was a better way for me to respond to guest reviews. Thank you for the welcome back after the previous chapter was posted! I really appreciated that, and it warmed my heart. Have no fear! I won't be abandoning this story and will see it through to its end. I have a couple other fics in the oven right now, and though I'll be taking a couple months to get those sorted after I finish this one, rest assured that they will make an appearance in due time. Thank you so much for reading, and for letting me know that you'll stick around for the rest of the story. I appreciate it! :D
Also, I do want to mention that I've created several illustrations for this story. If you pop over to tumblr, my username is ofahattersmind. At the top of my blog is a link to all the Fate Be Changed illustrations. I hope you enjoy them!