It was Kili whom she found first.

The younger one of the Durin brothers was alive, as Ella noticed with relief as she rode closer, and seemingly unhurt despite the two orcs he was fighting off with both his sword and his axe.

But then, he wasn't alone.

Next to him, with her back pressed against the same rock wall, stood Tauriel and backed him up with her daggers. The two of them worked together in silent yet perfect harmony, and had successfully done that for a while now as the half dozen slain enemies at their feet confirmed.

"Attack!"

Ella leaned down and whispered the command into her mount's ear.

The warg turned her head, looked from her to the combatants and back again, confused. She bared her fangs and growled lowly, but made no move to otherwise interfere in the fight as long as her Mistress was not affected directly.

But she didn't need to.

At the sound of her threatening snarl the two orcs spun around, presumably in hopes of friendly reinforcements, and the brief moment they turned their backs on their opponents was enough for Tauriel and Kili to finish them off before they even had the time to realise their mistake.

"Ella!" Kili gasped wide-eyed once he had pulled his axe out of the dead orc's back. "What in Durin's name are you doing here?"

"A good question, indeed," echoed Tauriel in a cooler tone and wiped her daggers clean on her leather boots. "I'm quite sure I told you to stay in Dale when last time we met."

Ella twisted her lips into a lopsided grin. "And I'm quite sure your- king- told you not to meddle in dwarves' business. Seems like we girls nowadays don't always do as we're told. Not when our friends are in danger, that is."

"Well-" Kili shook his head with a short laugh. "I for one am grateful for such disobedience, to be sure. Even though it isn't exactly uplifting for a grown man to have his life saved all over again by the woman he loves."

Tauriel snorted, but then her eyes grew wide. "Say that again, dwarf," she whispered. "The last part."

Kili looked away and blushed down to the roots of the dark-brown tangles on his head. "Do not worry," he mumbled, embarassed. "I tend to say a lot of silly things when I'm nervous. Blame it on the battle. I'm quite aware now is hardly the right time, let alone the right place for-" he cleared his throat. " that-"

He looked up at Ella who still sat on her warg and squinted. "Is this the little bugger I caught for you after we escaped Goblin-Town?" he asked. "Guess I would end up with more than a few scratches if I tried that now."

Tauriel raised an eyebrow. "A warg carrying a hobbit," she said. "Who would have thought? These are indeed strange times."

"And strange times call for unorthodox matters," Ella agreed and looked around. "Are you two alone? I'm still looking for Thorin. I was hoping that he-" she bit her lip. "He's not here with you?"

Kili shook his head. "I haven't seen him since we reached the watchtower and he had me and Fili search the area." he replied in a sad tone. "Nor my brother-"

"Fili lives," Ella hurried to reassure him. " He's injured, but Balin and Dwalin stayed behind to protect him. Thorin was fighting Azog when they last saw him, but he drove him farther and farther away from them and now we have no idea where he could be- or even if he's still alive-"

Her voice cracked.

Tauriel nodded grimly. "The same goes for Legolas. When the orcs attacked us, he lured Bolg, Azog's evil spawn, away from us and I haven't seen him ever since."

She sheathed her daggers and drew her bow instead. "They will need our help. I'll go west, towards the old bridge, that's where Legolas was heading to."

"Then I'll go east."Ella nodded.

She looked to Kili whose gaze flew from one woman to the other, undecided. "Go with Tauriel," she encouraged him. "I have Precious, so I won't be alone." She saw him clench his jaw, visibly torn between his feelings for the elleth and the obligation towards his uncle.

"Good," he sighed at last. "May Mahal be with you, Ella."

"And with you." Ella replied solemnly.

She still didn't believe in Mahal- nor in any other gods for that matter- but if there ever was a time when they could use the support of a higher power, it was now. And if the god of the dwarves helped them today, that she swore silently to both him and herself, this hobbit would be his most devoted worshipper from this day forward.

The mountain pass eastwards led her downhill until at last she reached a large plateau covered all over with ice.

It was a frozen lake, Ella realised, and the breath caught in her throat when she detected the dark outline of a body in the distance on the glass-like ground.

No, not one body, she corrected herself as she came closer. Two.

A large one lying upon a much smaller one, none of them moving. And there was no mistaking who they were.

Ella's heart raced.

Was she too late? Had Thorin somehow managed to strike the mighty orc down and lay now helplessly buried beneath his weight? Or worse even- had Azog killed him in melee combat and was now enjoying a last embrace with his nemesis before he got up again and slayed her next?

Would Precious try to defend her if he attacked or would she turn tail and run?

Not that she could blame her if it were so. The pale orc scared the hell out of her, and he would probably make quick work of a warg gone rogue-

And what difference would it make? was the bitter thought that followed. If Thorin was dead, what sense was there in a life without him?

But then, suddenly, the two intertwined bodies on the ice started to move, and the one at the bottom pushed the bigger one off him and rose to his legs, slowly and cumbersomely.

Thorin! Ella's heart leapt with joy. Azog was dead but Thorin lived!

He stood with his back to her, so he didn't notice her at first, but when she spurred Precious and rode towards him, he looked over his shoulder back at her. His face, as she couldn't help noticing even from a distance, was very pale where it wasn't covered in blood.

He frowned at the sight of the warg but then his electric blue eyes widened and he turned and limped towards her, one step, two. At the third step he stumbled, his hands flew to his stomach and he fell down into the snow, head first, and didn't get up any more.

"Oh no," Ella whispered, aghast. "Nonononono."

She jumped off the warg's back and ran towards him, her bare feet sliding over the ice almost causing her to fall in her frenzied attempt to reach him as fast as she could.

She fell on her knees next to him, turned him over and bedded his head into her lap. His breath came laboriously and when she let her gaze roam from his beloved face down, she noticed in horror the blood streaming from a deep stab wound in his belly.

So much blood!

Panicking, Ella tore one of her shirt's sleeves off, rolled the fabric up and pressed it on the wound, but the blood kept pouring forth and soaked her pathetic, makeshift bandage in no time.

Thorin's eyes fluttered open and fixated on her face. Slowly, he moved his arm and laid his large hand over hers to halt her attempts to doctor him. His eyes found hers and he twisted his pale lips into a pained smile.

"It's no use," he rasped. "The cut is too deep. His blade ran all the way through me, and I let him do it so I could draw my own and stab him in turn when he least expected it. He's dead, Ella. Azog is dead. I killed him. It's over."

Ella looked to the big, unmoving body a few paces away, then back at her lover's face.

Though now bloodied and ghastly, it was beautiful as ever and strangely peaceful. All anger and resentment had left his chiseled, regal features and no sign of madness clouded his deep-blue eyes any longer.

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled with a sob.

What was Azog's death worth to her if it meant Thorin's as well? And what bitter irony that he should die now that he was apparently healthy again, had finally conquered the dragon sickness?

"I'm glad you're here, Ella," Thorin continued quietly and squeezed her hand. "I did you a great wrong. You never intended to steal from me, I know that now. When you took the Arkenstone, it wasn't to give it to my enemies but to protect me from myself and the darkness that was threatening to consume me. I couldn't see it then, but I do now. And I want to apologize, from the bottom of my heart. Can you forgive me?"

Tears welled up in Ella's eyes and she turned away from his pleading look.

She knew what this was. The confession before the last rites. The desire to ease his soul and unburden his heart because he felt the end was near.

And what an end it would be, worthy of stories and songs.

He had slain his greatest foe and hence ended the war and saved his people, and was now ready to die a hero's death in the arms of a woman who loved him.

But where did that leave her?

She had won his trust and his heart, and lost it again, and now that he had forgiven her she should lose him once more? After all that they'd been through together, all the dangers and hardships of their journey, the dragon and the gold sickness? Should all this have been for nothing?

And was this how the rest of her life was supposed to be from now on? A slow wasting away in constant grief and pointless musing about what could have been?

No, she wasn't ready for this. Not at all. And she wouldn't let him die.

With an angry jerk she tore off her other sleeve and replaced the blood-soaked bundle of cloth on Thorin's belly with a fresh bandage.

"No, I won't forgive you," she said, her voice choked with tears, and shook her head like a petulant child refusing to go to bed. "You wronged me, yes. And you will live to make good."

Despite his protests, she kept pressing the ball of cloth to his wound, as if she was able to stop the steady bloodstream through sheer willpower.

"And since you have a lot to make up for, I'm afraid you'll have to live for a very, very long time."

"And I wish I could do that." Thorin said softly.

A sad smile flickered across his face. "Believe me when I say there's nothing in the world I'd want more. I think, I always knew you were my One, right from the start when you made me look like a fool in front of my company. You were such a little thing, but you had the courage of a lioness. No fear or respect at all. Stood your ground."

He drew in a rattled breath and coughed out blood.

Ella bit her lip so hard she tasted her own blood.

She knew he'd better stop talking so he wouldn't exhaust himself even faster, but then- as long as he was talking, it meant he couldn't sink into the drowsiness that preceded death, right?

If only help would arrive already!

"But even then I thought my feelings foolish and selfish," the dwarf king continued, his voice barely more than a faint whisper.

"What would a pretty, fun-loving lass such as you want with a grumpy old dwarf like me? I had nothing to offer to you, no riches, no crown, no kingdom. Nothing but an ardous journey with uncertain outcome. You deserved better than that."

"I never cared for your oh-so-great kingdom in that bloody mountain or your bloody crown, you dumb ox of a dwarf," Ella snorted through her tears. "I've never wanted anything but you right from the start. It was just that stupid pride of yours that kept you from seeing it."

"You're right," Thorin replied with a weak smile. "I guess it is hard to let go off your pride, when it has for a long time been the only thing you had. All my life I have known that I would one day be king under the mountain, and I have never desired it more than in exile. It was the only thought on my mind, the only thing that kept me going in all those years. But the truth is- when the time came- when I finally put the crown on my head and took the throne of my ancestors in the Erebor, it did not feel at all like I thought it would. It did not make me happy at all. And I've done everything wrong."

He turned his head away. " It may have been my destiny to reclaim the Erebor for my people, but I was never meant to be king."

A single tear rolled down his pale cheek.

"But you- you were the ray of light in my darkness. Loyalty, honor, a willing heart, all the traits I have always hoped to find in others, I have found in you. And love. Love, above all. The ability to love another despite all their flaws and mistakes. That- not any kingdom, or riches, or titles, is the highest treasure. I just wish I had understood it sooner."

His voice trailed off and his eyes fell close.

The cloth on his stab wound was once more soaked with fresh blood, as Ella noticed in helpless despair, and with it the life flowed out of her beloved.

"Thorin, wake up," she sobbed.

She took his head in her hands and smothered his face in kisses and her tears. "I'm sorry. I forgive you, you hear me? Of course I do. I forgive you everything. Just- just don't die. Please. Don't. Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me. I love you, too. I love you so much."

But he did not reply any more.

His skin under her hands felt dreadfully cold and his breathing, shallow enough as it had been before, seemed to have stopped for good.

"No," Ella whispered incredulously, unwilling to accept the painful truth.

She threw her head back. "NO!" she cried out and her desperate wailing echoed from the moutain ranges around them.

And then she saw them.

A half dozen big, majestic birds floated in the winter sky, cutting the cold air with their mighty wings as they moved.

Eagles, she realised. Gandalf's eagles had finally come.

But too late! Too late!

They drove circles above them for a moment, then five of them turned and headed towards the battlefield while the sixth landed next to them on the ice.

He threw Ella a look from his ancient, wise eyes, then he gripped the lifeless body of the king under the mountain in his claws and carried him back home.

For a long while, Ella just sat there frozen in place. Her eyes followed the birds of prey's receding outlines in the sky until she could no longer see them, and the tears on her cheeks slowly froze to ice.

Precious came trotting towards her and nudged her side, and she raised her hand and absently petted the animal's head.

At last she rose and walked to the edge of the icy lake, from where she could look down at the battlefield beneath.

She saw Gandalf's eagles come down again and again on the orc army, cutting a bloody swath of destruction through their rows. And there was also a giant bear who ripped the attackers apart in dozens with his mighty, razor-sharp claws. Beorn, she realised.

With the help of such mighty allies the defenders of the Erebor found new courage as well. They drove their enemies back inch by inch, and soon it looked as if the battle would be won against all odds.

It was a great victory, but Ella had nothing left in her to be delighted about it. She seemed to have lost her emotions, as if they had frozen to ice along with her tears. She was no longer able to feel happiness or sadness. She only felt numb, and completely hollow.

Ella turned, walked back to the spot where Thorin had slain Azog and looked down at the pale orc's corpse. His pale blue, reptilian eyes were open and looked vicious even in death.

Even then, she felt nothing, neither triumph nor satisfaction.

Slowly she bent down and slid her hand into his loincloth to retrieve her ring. Then she trudged back to her warg and sat down cross-legged on the frozen ground, and that was where she still was when Gandalf finally found her.