Warning for at least one kind of gruesome death in this chapter. I kinda went over the top…
Chapter 31
"Well, shit." Dwalin sighed, looking as if he wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel.
Fíli slumped in his seat, toying with the headphones in his lap. They'd been driving for hours, trying to find a road east that wasn't blocked off by dead cars or broken bridges. They'd finally found a stretch of highway that was mostly empty, and it had carried them for about half an hour until they ran into a new problem.
There was a train in the middle of the road.
It stretched across the railroad crossing like a sleeping serpent, extending a short distance into the train station nearby.
Sullenly, they all trickled out of the vehicles to discuss what to do next.
"So, are we heading south again?" Óin asked.
"At this rate, we're going to end up in Gondor," Bombur grumbled.
Thorin spread the map of the area across the hood of the van. He looked exhausted, the dark circles hanging heavy under his eyes and his beard gaining a wild, unkempt look. "Either we try the road down here," he pointed to a spot on the map. "Or we go on foot."
"Or we could try and move the train," Nori suggested.
Everyone turned to look at him.
He shrugged. "How hard can it be? Not like there's a lot it can do except stop and go."
Thorin sighed. "Let's look around the train station, then. If we can't clear the road, we'll just have to move on."
They left the cars and started the trek towards the train station. The large building had once been painted green, with a glass-paneled dome in the center. Several of the windows were broken, though, and the paint had peeled off in places to reveal patches of rust.
The inside wasn't in much better condition. The tile floor was cracked beneath their feet, and plant life had sprung up where patches of sunlight hit the dirty floor. The central room was a long, two-story area with the tracks running through the center. The train blocking their path was peering out of the entry to the left, just below a bridge that connected both sides of the track, and directly in front of them was the ticket office.
Nori pointed to the front end of the train. "Lemme see if I can get this thing started."
Thorin nodded. "I'll taking a group to sweep the place. I don't want anything sneaking up on us."
"While you all do that, we're gonna look for supplies," Víli said, pointing to a sign that advertised a cafe on the second floor. "Might be able to find some food."
Thorin took Dwalin, Ori, and Bombur to scout out the station. Nori, Óin, Bifur, and Bilbo made for the train (and Fíli guessed, unhappily, that the latter had chosen to do so since he still hadn't made up with Thorin).
That left him, Víli, Balin, and Bofur to head up the stairs to their right. The metal was flaked with rust, and groaned under their footsteps as they ascended.
"Jesus," Víli said, looking down. "Didn't think the world would start falling apart on us so soon."
"Looks like there was some water damage here," Bofur said, glancing up at the shattered windows above. "Let's be careful."
It was a short walk to the cafe, which seemed to double as a convenience store of sorts. There were shelves scattered with empty wrappers, faded magazines, and crumpled newspapers. The row of fridges along the back wall were clouded with grime.
Fíli found an empty pack of gum buried beneath a pile of torn cardboard and slipped it into his pack. Bofur hopped the counter and began rummaging behind it, humming softly to himself.
Víli picked up one of the newspapers and rustled it, trying to decipher the running ink. "Hey, the Ravens won that game? Huh."
Fíli looked up. "What?"
"Five years ago." He set down the newspaper. "The Ravens won, but I never found out about it. Stopped watching the news after it got all depressing."
They had all gone to a game once, as a family. Kíli had gorged himself on cotton candy and had sticky blue strands of sugar stuck to his face. During a particularly tense moment, Dís had stood up and started cheering for their team, only for another spectator to shout something rude at her. Víli had stood up to confront the man and had earned a black eye for his efforts, but he'd worn it like a trophy for the rest of the day.
When Fíli tried to picture that stadium now, all he could see was the stands slumping and broken, weeds and rough brush populating the field, maybe a few walkers roaming through the twisted metal remains.
Balin was standing by the window, looking out at the trees outside. "You know, there's something almost poetic about it. Mother Nature taking back the land, creeping back over what we took." He looked up as a small, brown bird flitted through the gap in the windows and soared up towards the metal rafters. "Perhaps that's the only thing that's really permanent."
"Well, as long as she doesn't mind us making a place for ourselves." Bofur opened a bag of coffee grounds, sniffed it, and grimaced.
Fíli walked over to an abandoned suitcase sitting a little ways away. It was stuffed with rumpled clothing, and a stream of ants were crawling up and down one corner. He looked up at the metal column nearby and found that someone had carved L+B into the paint.
A low rumble made them all look up.
"Hey, I guess they got the train working," Víli said.
Bofur was frowning. "That…That sounds more like a car engine."
Fíli stood up. "Maybe they—"
The window cracked, sending shards of glass clattering to the floor. A second later, Balin fell too, hitting the tile with a heavy thud.
They stood in horror, watching the halo of red growing around his head, the ring of cracked glass around the bullet hole in the window, and then Víli shouted, "Get down!"
More bullets peppered the glass, and in the next instant, it shattered entirely, raining gleaming shards onto the floor. Fíli hit the ground so fast his knees jarred with the impact. He was breathing hard, but it didn't feel like any air was reaching his lungs. All he could see was Balin's still form, his eyes closed even as blood crept over the crystals of glass on the floor.
Fíli was kneeling next to the metal column, while Víli and Bofur had taken cover behind the counter at the cafe. He exchanged a wide-eyed glance with his father and felt something inside him shrink.
"Fíli, stay where you are," Víli said. He began inching closer to the edge of the counter.
The gunfire stopped suddenly, and Bofur risked a glance over the counter. "Shit. They're heading inside. We gotta get back to the others."
Víli had his gun in his hand. "Fíli, I'm gonna cover you, okay? When I say go, I want you to run over here."
His gaze fell on Balin again, and tears pricked his eyes. For a moment, he could almost feel Dís's grip on his hand.
I need you to be brave, just a little longer.
They weren't going to leave him behind. They couldn't.
Fíli lunged forward and began crawling towards Balin, ignoring the prickle of glass against his palms.
"Fíli! God dammit!"
Even when he felt sticky blood beneath his palms, he didn't stop until he was crouching next to Balin. He looked down, taking in the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest, and gasped.
"He's breathing. He's alive!"
Víli exchanged a glance with Bofur, and the two of them nodded.
"You get ready to cover us, okay? We're gonna get him out of here."
In unison, Víli and Bofur darted out from their cover and knelt on either side of Balin. Fíli rose to his feet, both hands clasping his gun. He could see four trucks parked outside the train station, and a few men running towards the door. A series of gunshots had started at the other end of the train station, and the noise sent a spike of fear through his heart.
He started to turn away, but one more figure stepped out of the truck, a tower of pale muscle. Recognition locked his limbs. He sucked in a breath, feeling as though the insides of his lungs had been coated in ice.
Azog shouldered his rifle, looked right up at him, and grinned.
"Come on." Víli hadn't noticed anything, too busy slinging Balin's arm around his shoulders, while Bofur took the other. "We gotta go."
And rage began to melt his fear. Fíli watched as Azog walked at an almost leisurely pace to the front door and tightened his grip on his gun.
This would not be like the warehouse. He wasn't going to let this bastard take their home, or hurt anyone else.
Not again.
They made their way back to the stairs as fast as they could. Balin was completely still as they half-carried, half-dragged him, blood turning his white hair a sickening scarlet. Fíli looked away as his stomach turned. Maybe the bullet had only grazed him, knocked him out. They only had to get him to Óin, and he would be okay.
The sound of gunfire grew louder as they headed for the other end of the train station. The ticket booth near the tracks obscured their view of the train, and he saw no sign of the rest of their group.
The stairs creaked as they hurried down, and halfway through, gave a sickening lurch. The metal screeched—Víli, and Bofur stumbled forward, Fíli fell backwards. The steps beneath him jolted downwards. Moving with an agility he didn't know he possessed, he switched his gun to his other hand and grabbed the metal railing to his right.
"Fíli!"
The stairs broke in half, and Fíli scrambled backwards as his half began to lurch downwards. The other three had ended up on the lower half, thankfully upright and unharmed. Víli was staring up at him with wide eyes.
Fumbling with sweating palms, Fíli used his grip on the railing to hoist himself upwards until he was back on the upper level. He looked down, breathing hard.
"Stay there!" Víli shouted. "I'm gonna find a way up to you."
Bofur raised his gun to shoot at something Fíli couldn't see. "Take cover!"
Fíli swallowed and pushed himself to his feet. He flexed his fingers, which were stiff from clinging to the railing, and switched his gun back to his right hand. He couldn't just sit and do nothing, not when his family was in danger.
With his pulse pounding in his ears, Fíli sprinted in the other direction, past the cafe and the pool of blood dotted with broken glass. At the other end of the building, he could see another stairway that would lead him down to the main floor.
This set of stairs thankfully held his weight, and he only stumbled a couple times before he reached the bottom. He decided to cut through the closed-off waiting area that lay between him and the others.
The room was filled with rows of plastic seats, and eerily dim despite the grime-fogged glass panels. The gunshots were slightly muffled, too. Fíli rushed across the room, his footsteps and jagged breaths sounding too loud in the empty space.
He was nearly at the door when something moved on the other side of the glass. Fíli barely had time to raise his weapon before the door swung open and the butt of a rifle cracked across his face.
When Thorin heard the gunshots, something in his blood ignited. He slipped his rifle from his shoulder and glanced at the other three in his group. Ori and Bombur were looking towards the sound with wide eyes, but Dwalin had slipped into a focused calm, his own rifle already at the ready.
The four of them ran towards the noise. They'd ended up on the other side of the tracks from where they'd entered, and had been checking out the security office when the first shot had sounded.
When they made it back into the main area, chaos greeted them. At least a dozen men had poured into the building, and were firing at the train, which was still stuck on the tracks.
Thorin cursed, even as fury jolted through his limbs. He turned to Dwalin. "Take these two out the emergency exit, around the building. Kill anyone that tries to escape."
Dwalin narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell would they try to escape?"
He checked the ammo in his handgun, made sure his knife was free of its sheath. "I'm going to drive them out."
"By yourself?"
Thorin looked up at him. "Yeah. By myself."
Whatever Dwalin saw in his eyes seemed to dispell any doubts he had. He nodded once, a silent promise, then turned to Bombur and Ori. "Let's go."
The three of them made for the door, and Thorin hurried to take cover behind one of the metal columns. He lifted his rifle and shot one of the men in the head. Once they realized their targets were firing back, the group scattered, some taking cover behind the ticket station, others behind the train. Worry bubbled up as he thought of Bilbo and Fíli and the others, but he forced it back. He had to focus if he was going to kill as many of these bastards as he could.
Another man appeared from behind his cover as he tried to shoot at the train, and Thorin's bullet tore through his neck.
Movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn. Four men were climbing up to the high bridge that connected both sides of the tracks. Thorin cursed and sprinted for the stairs. He couldn't let them flank him.
Bullets rattled against the metal stairs. Thorin couldn't tell if any of them struck him—adrenaline was flying through his veins, and even if he was injured, he wasn't sure he would have stopped.
The first man was nearly across the bridge by the time Thorin reached the top of the stairs. He shot him in the leg without breaking his stride. Blood spurted from his thigh, and the man fell to the concrete with a scream. Thorin brought his boot down on the man's neck, crushing his windpipe and a few bones.
The second man was coming for him. Thorin raised his rifle, but the other was faster. A jolting impact slammed into his shoulder and sent him stumbling to the ground. He groaned as pain jolted through his arm, but pushed himself up anyway. He tossed aside his rifle and raised his handgun in the same motion. The man choked and bent double as Thorin shot him in the gut, and red bloomed from the wound. He staggered forward and shot him again in the head. The other two he killed before they could set foot on the bridge.
Breathing hard, Thorin made his way towards the other set of stairs. Most of the men were still shooting at the train, but a few were focused on the stairs, where Víli and Bofur were crouched and firing back at them.
A figure appeared in the doorway, bright white against the sunlight spilling through the opening, and Thorin felt fiery anger sear away whatever pain was in his shoulder. He raised his gun at the same time Azog noticed him, and squeezed the trigger.
The bullet cracked against the wall as Azog stepped back. The pale man raised his own rifle, and Thorin was forced to duck against the stairs as a spray of bullets shattered the space where his head had just been.
Son of a bitch. Thorin ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and darted behind another column. When he found a lull in the gunshots, he leaned forward with his gun raised, looking for Azog, but the pale man was nowhere to be found.
With a growl, Thorin shot another man in the head. The remainders of the group were retreating now, scrambling back towards the entrance. Thorin gave chase, shooting another three before his gun clicked, empty.
Cursing, he shoved it back in his pocket and looked around. Sometime during the chaos, the train had rumbled to life, and was making its way across the tracks. Thorin scanned the front as it approached, searching for any signs of the group that had gone inside.
Heavy footsteps from the direction of the ticket station caught his attention, and Thorin dodged the blow easily as a man swung his knife at him. He grabbed the man by the shoulders, ramming his knee into his gut, then shoved him to the side and off the platform. The man landed on the tracks with a groan that quickly turned into a scream as he was crushed beneath the advancing train.
Nori appeared in the frame of the train car's shattered windows and gave him a thumbs up. Thorin nodded to him and turned to the front door, blood still boiling in his veins. He sprinted for the entrance, only dimly realizing that he only had a knife left to defend himself.
The parking lot was empty except for half a dozen red-stained bodies. Dwalin, Ori, and Bombur approached from the side. One of them was saying something, but Thorin's focus was on the horizon.
Azog had escaped, had left them bloody and beaten again. But this time there was no fear—only vengeance, smoldering in his lungs.
Bilbo flinched as another bullet ricocheted off the side of the train. The four of them were crouched inside the front car, praying the metal plating would be enough to keep them all alive.
"Nori, what the hell are you doing?" Bifur growled, his grip tight on his rifle. "We need to get out of here."
"Not before we get this thing going." Nori was the only one of them not seated on the floor, instead choosing to squat in front of the control panel and continue to prod at the different buttons. "We still have to move this train if we want to get out of here. And if these bastards blow it up—"
They all flinched as a bullet tore through the front window, sending small pieces of glass to the floor.
"Dori was right," Óin grumbled. "You watch too many movies."
"We gotta push back," Bifur said. "Can't let them pin us down here." He whacked Bilbo's arm with his free hand. "Let's go shoot at these bastards."
Bilbo gaped at him. "Y-You want me to…"
"We gotta cover each other. I can't do this by myself, and Óin's reflexes are terrible."
"Unless you know how to start a train," Nori said.
"You don't either," Bilbo grumbled, and gestured for Bifur to lead the way.
They crept towards the door out of the car, keeping low. Bilbo's fingers curled around his gun, and he swore he could feel his pulse against the dark plastic.
Bifur pushed open the door and risked a glance outside, then ducked back against the wall. "Angle's no good. If we make it to the ticket office, we'll have better cover."
Bilbo nodded jerkily. "Okay."
"You first. I'll cover you, then you do the same for me."
He swallowed hard and tried to control the trembling in his hands. The memory of the warehouse was pushing at the corners of his mind—scrambling for the safety of the doors, blood running down his shoulder, watching Dori—
They had to make sure everyone else was safe.
Bilbo took a calming breath and straightened. "Tell me when."
Bifur shuffled to the side to give him room, then raised his gun and began firing at the strangers, each gunshot rattling across the space and jarring his nerves. "Now!"
Steeling himself, Bilbo darted through the door, leapt the gap to the platform, and sprinted for the ticket office. A bullet whizzed past his head, so close he could feel it ruffle his hair, and he collapsed behind the wall of the office.
He felt as if he was going to be sick for a moment, but forced it back. Bifur was counting on him.
Pushing himself back up, he crept to the corner and lifted his gun. He wasn't sure how many there were, as most of them were hiding behind columns or benches, but he began firing in their general direction. Distantly, he wondered if these were the same people who had attacked them back at the warehouse, though they seemed to be in greater numbers now.
Soon, Bifur had joined him behind the ticket office, and Bilbo left the shooting up to him. He knew these men were trying to kill them, but he still couldn't bring himself to really aim any of his shots.
A cry at the other end of the room made them turn. Bilbo crept to the other corner and peered around it. Víli and Bofur were crouched by the stairs, which barely provided enough cover for the two of them.
When Víli caught his eye, he shouted something and pointed up at the stairs. It was hard to make out his words over the gunfire, but the broken stairs and the fear in his eyes told him enough.
Bilbo sidled back over to Bifur. "I think something happened to Fíli. He's still upstairs, but the stairway is broken."
Bifur ducked back as another spray of bullets shot past him. "I think I saw another one at the far end of the building. You go get him—I'll draw their fire."
"How the hell am I supposed to make it over there?"
"The tracks. They're low enough that they'll provide some cover."
Bilbo glanced nervously at the trench. He had some deep-rooted instinct to stay far away from the yellow-painted edge, probably since the first time his father had held his hand while they crossed the gap.
He tightened his grip on his gun. Fíli needed his help, and old rules didn't apply anymore.
He nodded at Bifur. "Good luck."
"You too."
Bilbo crawled to the edge of the platform and jumped down. He glanced back at the train, but it seemed Nori still hadn't figured out how to get it working. Keeping his head below the ledge, he ran in an awkward half-crouch towards the other end of the building. Briefly, bizarrely, he imagined himself to be a soldier from times past, crouching in trenches amid cannon fire.
Once he'd reached the far wall, he hoisted himself back onto the ledge and started for the stairs. But as he passed the walled-in waiting area, he paused as a low thump sounded from inside.
Drawing his gun, Bilbo pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The interior showed signs of complete chaos. Several of the chairs had been pushed over and knocked aside as two figures wrestled at the far end of the room.
Fíli gasped as the other figure forced him to the ground. His skin was already patched with bruises and sweat. He was bleeding from a wound on his head, and more of it was streaming from his nose and into his mouth. At first, Bilbo though the other man was Azog, with his pale skin, but he realized this one was younger, probably only a couple years older than Fíli.
The pale figure had the same sadistic grin, though, as he drove a bruising punch into Fíli's ribs. His other hand wrapped around Fíli's throat, the muscles of his arm straining with his grip. Fíli grunted and coughed, trying to push him off, but his movements were weak and sluggish. The attacker cocked back his fist for another swing, but it never connected.
The bullet tore through his side, forcing him sideways and off of Fíli. He pushed himself up and began dragging himself backwards, but he fell back against the wall as another bullet struck the center of his chest. Dark patches of blood were rapidly growing in his shirt. He choked on some of it, eyes wide, as he tried to stand. He didn't look violent or frightening in that moment—he just looked scared.
Bilbo raised his gun and shot him in the head.
Silence rang through the room. It wasn't until Fíli rolled to the side, letting out a muted choking noise, that Bilbo stepped forward.
He didn't remember crossing the room, but the next thing he knew, he was kneeling next to Fíli and helping him sit up.
"Are you alright? Fíli, talk to me."
"'M okay," he said, wiping some blood from his upper lip. He was breathing shallowly. "I just…"
"Come on." Bilbo wrapped his arms around him and lifted him to his feet. "I've got you. Let's get out of here." He guided him towards the door, ignoring the body slumped against the wall.
The gunshots had died out by the time they reentered the main room. The train was also moving, gradually accelerating across the room. Nori and Óin were nearby, the former limping as the pair approached.
"Rolled my ankle jumping off the train," Nori said, and his eyes widened as he got a better look at them. "Holy hell. Fíli!"
"I'm fine," Fíli mumbled. "I—"
But the rest of his sentence was cut off as Víli came sprinting across the room. He said nothing, just wrapping his arms around Fíli, but the haunted look in his eyes was enough.
Bofur joined them a few seconds later, but he turned his attention to Óin. "We need you, quick. Balin…Balin was hit."
The six of them limped in a disjointed knot back towards the stairs. Balin was slumped on the floor, completely still with red painting the side of his head, and the sight made white sparks dance in Bilbo's vision. They gathered around as Óin knelt next to him.
A moment later, Thorin, Dwalin, Bifur, Ori, and Bombur approached. Thorin's clothes and hands were flecked with blood, and a dark patch of it was spreading on his shoulder, but he didn't seem to be gravely hurt.
Dwalin let out a strangled gasp as he saw Balin, and fell to his knees on his other side. "What the hell happened?"
"The first shot got him," Bofur said hollowly. "Surprised all of us."
Óin finished winding bandages around Balin's head and sat back on his heels. "I don't think it pierced the skull, which is good. We'll stop the bleeding and see if he wakes up. There's…There's not much else I can do for him without some real equipment."
Thorin stared at Balin's still form for a moment, his gaze hollow, then looked around at the rest of the group. "Is anyone else hurt?"
"Could use some ice for my ankle," Nori said. "But…" He glanced at Fíli, who was still clinging to his father.
Óin glanced at the pair. "Where are you hurt, lad?"
Fíli didn't answer, and Bilbo realized he was the only other one who knew at least part of what had happened. "One of the men attacked him," he said. "H-He was beating him when I walked in, and I…"
He looked down at the gun in his hand.
He'd killed someone.
The weapon clattered to the floor.
Distantly, he could hear Bofur speaking, reaching out for him as if afraid he was going to fall. Bilbo didn't resist as he was guided over to the mangled remains of the steps. He sat down and looked at his hands.
He'd killed someone.
He'd killed a kid—and yes, that kid had been on the verge of killing Fíli, but—
He'd shot him three times, and hadn't felt a thing.
"Bilbo."
Thorin's hand was on the back of his neck, his touch and his voice slowly drawing Bilbo out of his shock. He was kneeling before him, the steady blue of his gaze grounding him.
"You didn't do anything wrong. You saved Fíli's life. Alright?"
Bilbo took in a trembling breath. Despite everything that had happened, the fracture that had opened up between them, there was a part of him that still wanted to believe Thorin.
"I know," Thorin said softly, as if they were alone in the room. "I know what you're feeling, what you're carrying right now. And I promise it's not as heavy as it seems."
And despite everything—the blood, the guilt that was still fresh enough to feel like a new layer of snow—he leaned in, resting his head on Thorin's shoulder, and pretended for a moment that it was just the two of them.
I hope this scene was ok to visualize? I actually had to draw out a map of the place just to visualize the blocking (now my third map for this story), and I hope things weren't too confusing. The POVs also kind of jump around a little so I hope that wasn't too confusing either. I am never writing another action scene in a goddamn train station.
And that last part with Bilbo and Fili is something I've been planning for a while, and I just…like, as much as I love him being a Good, I also like to sprinkle in a little bit of dark!Bilbo. Also, sometimes I wonder if I'm being too hard on Fili, but then I remember that Carl got shot up twice and bit, and I think I'm doing okay.