Heirs of What
| Part 4 |
-The Shadows Start to Fade-
Chapter (32) 'Winds, Tides, and Fortunes Change'
"And then he fell."
The words had been all too clear.
"And then he fell."
Hadrion had been certain.
"And then he fell."
But he didn't die.
Balin choked on his shock and joy and guilt all at once. There had been no part of him that believed, not the slightest hope, that Kili still lived. From the moment the old man Hadrion had told him the fate he witnessed befall Kili, Balin had slipped into grief. That night, even before the rest of the Company had drawn the sad and sure conclusion of Kili's end in the ashes at Gundabad, Balin had already known. He had no doubt.
But he'd been wrong. Even more than the rest of them. For their lost prince was there, before his teary eyes and the old dwarf could scarcely trust his own mind and sight. Could it truly be? Had a miracle itself at last favored them? His happiness was overwhelming but so then was his guilt. They had left Kili to the orcs. Believing him dead, they had left him to a fate perhaps worse than death. Balin knew none were as guilty as himself. He had accepted the believed truth all too readily, before the rest and perhaps with more conviction. Hadrion's tale had convinced him beyond question that is was Kili who had been cut down. But he didn't die. And now at last, so overdue, they had the chance to save him.
Fili had abandoned all caution and reason the moment his eyes fell upon his brother. He had stepped forward, closer, and dropped to his knees, hid not at all from anyone. The others had filled in around him, their discretion already lost, some understanding more slowly than others what they were seeing. Upon their movement the orcs had gathered and turned to face the dwarves from the valley below. And there they all stood for a time, the length uncertain. Watching. Waiting. Perhaps not for more than a few seconds. But those moments were full, overflowing in fact for nearly all.
Thorin drew his blade, an automatic motion as his thoughts numbed and seared with anticipation at once, so overwhelmed it took him quite a while to really understand. He knew Kili was down there. He could see him. He'd watched Fili's reaction. He knew his dead nephew was alive and right before him. He knew it and yet it took a few moments for his comprehension to catch up to his perception. For him to really understand.
To understand that his grief was over if not forgotten. To understand that all that he hadn't even dared to dream was reality. That a hope he had buried so deep in his soul was realized. That the weight in his chest, the ache, the throbbing in his heart were gone in an instant. That the tears in his eyes were of joy and not sorrow. That the goodbye he had said was now one less he had to live with. That what he felt was happiness overflowing. That the lad, the nephew he'd lost was lost no more.
He stood entirely motionless, daring hardly for a breath at all. It could not be true. Yet it was. Kili. Alive. Thorin drew his eyes from his youngest nephew's face for half a second to glance at his elder one without noticing in the moment how much he'd missed having both to divide his attention.
Fili knelt on the ground, his body tall upon his knees, trembling. Kili had been dead. Lifeless. Silent. Still. Forever. Fili had seen and heard and felt each of those words so often. The heartbeat of his pain. His grief had been a rottenness inside him. For weeks it had eaten away at all that he was. Weakening him. Hollowing him. Piece by piece and day after day he became less of who he was, as if his brother had not been taken all at once but little by little. With each tear. Each breathless sob. Each sleepless night. Each shaking, raging fit of grief that assailed him. Decaying his old life and future together.
But this, this was wholeness again. Utter joy. His relief bottomless, uncontainable. This was his little brother returned, restored. As he took in the sight of his brother, as he looked upon the face he'd been certain he would never get to see again, Fili was sure there was no feeling, no emotion, no moment better. How could there be? Kili was alive.
The youngest prince of Erebor, the lost and found prince, the ghost reborn prince watched his brother and then the rest of the Company emerge on the rise above him as if it were a fever dream, waiting for it to dissolve again into pain and despair. He knew it would not. He knew as surely as he was still alive that they were real and there before him. He knew after all of his dreams and nightmares and delusions that this one was not. Only he didn't know how. Kili didn't know how hope had arrived so suddenly, unexpectedly, unlooked for even, in a single moment and changed everything. He didn't know how to react, how to feel everything at once.
He had known he wouldn't be rescued. He'd known he would never see his family again. Bound and alone in Moria, he had realized the truth. His body was failing and his captivity by the orcs meant there was no hope of recovery. And even if he did, there was Azog. The warmonger might have a purpose for him, or not. But either way Kili knew his end. He would die. He didn't know exactly what moment he had realized it. When he had accepted the reality and finally allowed himself to believe it. Maybe he never had. Not entirely. Perhaps there was a part of him, too naïve, optimistic, foolish even, that refused to give up. Maybe that was why he hadn't already died. But most of him, in his misery and loneliness had despaired and accepted the one truth he had fought so adamantly for so long. He was going to die.
The realization had a haunting familiarity to it. Kili had already faced death once before when Fili's knife in Bolg's hand had buried into his body. When he tasted the blood in the back of his throat and felt the breath rattle in his lungs he'd know he was dying. How he didn't he would never really know. But he had faced the grief of his own death then. Doing it a second time was hardly any easier. A little less afraid maybe. But more sad. He'd had more time to think about his end, to ponder the life that would continue after he was gone. Kili had known he would never get to see his mother's face when she entered Erebor again and they were reunited. He would never get to make amends with Thorin and correct mistakes made. He would never get to see Fili crowned nor see his brother grow old. And it was painful. It hurt a lot.
But then in a moment, there in the face of his brother and uncle, Kili found his second resurrection. His life again pulled back from the darkness. It was more than any deserved, he was certain.
And too in that moment there was a relief, a quiet fear finally denied at the sight of Thorin and the remainder of the Company. Kili had not known for certain that they had survived Smaug in Erebor. From the moment he heard the dragon as the sound alone shook Bard's home, he had been afraid they were consumed. He had decided then, immediately, not to believe it. But the decision made was not so easily lived out, especially when his uncertainty had been stretched out for so long and tried so relentlessly by so much fear and misery. It had crept up many times over the past weeks, always banished to the depths again but forever lurking just beneath the surface. His doubts and worries refused to be entirely denied. Until now. Now at last he knew that his uncle and friends had survived the wrath and desolation of Smaug.
He took in the wonder of his circumstances in merely a few seconds and then felt Bolg's grip on his shoulder shift and a blade press against his throat. He should have been afraid, but there was something in realizing he was not alone in the struggle for his survival anymore that was comforting. The twelve dwarves and wizard looking down at him would not let him die now. For the first time in so long, Kili had real hope.
Fili was the first to move. He staggered to his feet and without another thought drew his blade and descended the slope to the valley floor. The Company had no choice but to follow. As they drew nearer, the orcs drew back and while there was still a distance between them Bolg barked a harsh warning.
"Do you wish to see his blood spill?" he said as he repositioned his grip on the blade at Kili's throat.
Fili's senses returned to him and he stopped. He was much closer than before, but only just too far still to make a rush at Bolg. He was close enough to see his brother much better though. Kili looked entirely different than when last Fil had seen him. He was pale and gaunt and thin. His arrow wound was still visible and dark, his ripped clothes exposing his infected thigh. His knee held his weight in a contorted way. There was so much dried blood surrounding a nasty wound in his abdomen, the glint of crimson in the center still wet. His lip and brow were bruised yellow and blue. His eyes were dark and exhausted, red rimmed and surrounded by purple skin. They looked different, a depth and hurt contained in dull shadows that didn't fit Kili's face at all. And yet, they were his eyes. Kili's eyes. They met Fili's and the elder prince was overwhelmed by love and pity for his sibling. For the joy at seeing him and the sorrow at seeing him so broken. He looked terrible. And wonderful.
Once when they were young Fili and Kili had been playing in the field above the riverbed that wound to the west of their home. The wide plain cut sharply down to the river where swollen waters had eroded it. The brothers were always warned not to go too close to the edge and they were always careful. Almost always. But once Kili, running without looking and laughing to distraction went too far and the ground gave under him. He went tumbling down the ravine, mud and rocks chasing him. Fili had hurried after, making his way down as quickly as safety allowed. He met Kili at the bottom, the younger cut, scraped, and bruised, his face dirty and streaked with tears. A harsh contrast to the glee that had occupied his features as they played in the field above only minutes before. And yet, despite his battered body, Kili's pleading gaze had remained his own, unchanged in spite of his tears, and Fili had been undeniably compelled to rush to his kid brother and gather him in his arms.
Standing before Kili now, seeing his damaged body, that memory actually raced into Fili's mind and he was again overcome by the urge to end the distance between them and take Kili in his arms. He wanted to ease his suffering and offer support, bearing his sibling's pain as fully as he could. But it was the look in Bolg's face, the threat in it that kept Fili still in defiance of his every instinct and impulse. The orc wasn't looking at him though, rather his uncle.
"Oakenshield, the coward beneath the Mountain. At last you come to claim your kin?" Bolg sneered, watching the dwarf king's face carefully. Kili could feel the orc's anticipation as he clutched his shoulder, this meeting the opportunity Bolg had been wishing for. Thorin was finally standing right before him with little chance he would flee now. But the orc did not find the affirmation he expected in Thorin's expression and smiled an ugly grin.
"Or perhaps not," Bolg laughed. "You did not come to save him." Kili quickly sought out his uncle's face. Was it true? Had they not come for him? The thought seemed foolish, but the shadow in Thorin's face looked keenly like shame and made him wonder if it was true. The Company's presence now did not entirely alleviate the hurt in the idea.
Speaking to Kili now, Bolg's words came again. "Your own abandoned you to die."
Abandoned. He knew it wasn't true. There was nothing in his brother's face that spoke of abandonment. Everything about Fili was eager, longing to reach him. The relief in the elder's face betrayed weeks of grief and suffering. His muscles strained in his sibling's direction. There was nothing but love and devotion in his brother's eyes. And yet, the word hurt. It cut somewhere deep, vulnerable, raw. Kili had felt that devastation before. He knew that pain and the way it carved out worth and purpose from one's heart. Fili would never abandon him. Never. But Thorin… the rest of them…it wouldn't be the first time. Perhaps his uncle had never meant to leave him behind to face his death, but to Kili it felt very much like he had. On the shores of Lake Town he'd been abandoned, so it wasn't beyond reason to think that Thorin could do it again.
No. He hadn't. Kili knew better, didn't he? The entire Company save their burglar was there now with every intention of rescuing him. And even if Thorin had left him before when consumed by gold sickness, this was not the same. His uncle would never leave him to the orcs. Kili refused to let Bolg's words cultivate doubt in his weary and clouded mind.
Thorin didn't answer Bolg but instead spoke directly to his youngest nephew. "No Kili, we did not forsake you. You cannot believe we would." The orc was distracting him, Thorin knew. But he could not bring himself to ignore the accusation. He could not allow Kili to believe they had abandoned him to die. Again. But the matter of saving his nephew was his priority, so Thorin did not address the claim further despite the mix of emotions pooled in Kili's eyes.
Lifting his gaze to meet the orc's, the King of Erebor continued in a steady, heated voice. "Release him now and we will spare your life. If you do not, your blood will be upon your own head."
Bolg snarled, "Who do you think you are to make such demands? You who are outnumbered and outmatched. A king? You have no power here so far from your throne. And who are you to claim it? I know you are nothing but the king of a throne bought with blood. That of your people, that of your kin. You are no one to speak to me."
Insults from a warmonger and the embodiment of every vile trait the orcs' race had to offer should not have met any real consideration, let alone reach their desired end. Bolg's slurs should have been easily discarded by Thorin who had always hated the orc and his sire as much as he was sure any could be hated. It was said an opinion had first to be valued before it could offer offence, and yet Bolg's words gave Thorin pause. For only a moment. There was truth in his claims after all, was there not? The throne of Erebor was crimson with the blood of innocence. Perhaps no more than most. Thrones were fought for. Armies rose and fell. Lives were lost. There was never rule without any ruin. But then, few kingdoms could boast of enemies as fearsome as a dragon. What other throne was won at the price of an entire town inflamed by a drake's breath?
Maybe Erebor was in fact more blood soaked than most. Did Thorin have any right, then, to claim it with a price so high? He had paid. Greatly. Oven may years and many losses, the Dwarf King felt he had paid as much as any could. Nearly. But he still had his life while so many did not. He knew there was no real reason in questioning his rightful claim to the throne simply because he was not dead. If it were true, any who deserved it could never rule it. Still, there was something real in the hesitation Thorin felt upon hearing Bolg's insults. Guilt, maybe. There was much he should have done differently, and he was sure his mistakes would remain as long as he did. But here and now, with his nephew's life again before him, was not the time to ponder his failures.
"You would choose your own death then?" he asked, not yet sure how he was supposed to free Kili from under Bolg's blade but certain if he did nothing it would be too late. Thorin spared himself a quick glance at his younger nephew again, some kind of reassurance that he wasn't mad, the lingering shock undoubtedly evoking some irrational notion that he could not really be there and the apparition was some sort of cruel trick.
A mistake. One glance was enough to undo him all over again. Kili's expression was open and vulnerable, his eyes pleading for help. This was not the same self-reliant lad he had left in Lake Town, defiance, pain, and disappointment contorting his face into a grimace. This was dependability. Desperation. Kili knew he could not do this on his own. He would be saved by his kin or die. And thought of the events Kili must have endured to bring him to this conclusion, rather than the conclusion itself, broke Thorin's heart. His nephew's suffering was undeniable in his dark eyes and he was begging to be saved.
Bolg's answer regained Thorin's attention. "You would threaten me even while his life is mine to take?" He knew that Kili was his one point of leverage. Remove that and the orcs' odds were not at all what he alleged. They outnumbered Thorin's Company but Bolg was no fool. Outmatched was a greater claim that he himself could believe. The dwarves had the wizard with them and far more years of combat among them than his own group. Bolg knew he couldn't kill the young prisoner under his knife or he would lose his leverage. But neither would the dwarves dare to move while he had one of theirs at his mercy. And so they all stood, taunt as a drawn bow string, all waiting to be loosed.
"Let us all gather ours heads," Gandalf's voice rose as he looked around. "We must all consider our course with care. One would not wish to act with too much haste."
It was a curious speech to make in the middle of such tension, Gandalf's words were too measured and neutral for such a state of opposition. The wizard looked to be speaking to Bolg mostly, but his eyes flashed more than once at Erebor's youngest prince as if attempting to gain his attention or otherwise tell him something. Kili had spent enough time with Gandalf over the past months to hear something in his voice, a detachment from the words he spoke as if they themselves could not convey what he wished to. He was talking slowly and deliberately, trying to say more than he was. Kili was sure of it. But if he could not understand Gandalf's riddles when they were spoken plainly, how was he supposed to accurately interpret what he wouldn't even say aloud?
"Cease your rambling old fool. You will not distract me," Bolg growl in irritation.
Distract? No, Kili thought. Gandalf was stalling. But why? What could a few moments more change?
Wait. A thought announced itself suddenly. Where was Bilbo? Kili quickly searched for the halfling, counting the members of the Company as he did. Hadn't there been one more figure upon the ridge when he'd first seen them? He'd been sure… the whole Company had been there…
During their Quest Kili had quickly taken a particular liking to the Company's burglar. The curious concerns Bilbo fretted about amused Kili. He had spent many long treks asking Bilbo questions, teasing him, and toying with his worries, though never passing from playful to cruel in nature. The young dwarf was quite certain the hobbit had grown to enjoy his company as much as Kili did. He had also come to recognize traits in Bilbo that went unnoticed by most of the others. While the halfling was skittish, he was rather brave. He never actually ran from danger, only faced it a different way than his dwarf companions. Some might say smarter, but that was for wiser minds to decide.
Bilbo was also quite loyal. It was a perception that developed over time. Despite the hardships, despite the doubts unduly offered him, and despite the dismissal by Thorin that Bilbo had ultimately come to ignore, he refused to leave them and go back to the Shire. At first Kili thought it was stubbornness that kept him. But there was something more to the devotion with which Bilbo came to their aid time and again. Stubbornness and loyalty Kili decided. He should know. It was a combination he was rather familiar with, having an excess of both. It was Bilbo's loyalty that surprised him over and over again throughout the remainder of their Quest. And that same loyalty which convinced Kili that Bilbo should be with them now.
Gandalf's voice drew him back again. "It is the small things that tend to surprise," he continued, ignoring Bolg and staring now at Kili as if he were speaking directly to him. "The unseen things." Unseen. What was he…? Kili's puzzlement suddenly dissolved into a vague understanding and he franticly glanced around him though he already knew he wouldn't see anything. The sense that something was about to happen, though he didn't know just what, caused his strength to surge and the archer revived a bit. He became more steady on his feet, his mind cleared some, and he felt like he could actually move on his own without failing under the pain. It took every bit of his strength and self-control not to flinch a moment later when he felt a small hand gently touch his.
Bilbo had heard Fili's sudden cry of surprise on top of the rise and had, with the rest of the group, turned to identify its cause. It took a moment as he searched the orcs below before understanding announced itself with a blatant display of awe.
Oh. Kili.
Excitement had bubbled up inside Bilbo immediately. He was absolutely shocked and infinitely happy certainly. But it was the excitement that really overwhelmed the small hobbit. Excitement because his young friend was alive and that meant he would get to hug him again. He would get to see Kili smile again and hear him. His laugh. His stories. His jokes. Excited to rekindle the heartfelt contentment the Company had shared during their adventure, truly complete only when all were present. To witness Dis's reaction when the son she never thought to see again stood before her. To see lost love revive into something even more beautiful than before. For the first time in weeks Bilbo was excited for the future and did not have to dread the next day to come. Because he knew, absolutely, that they would finally get to save Kili.
But how? The young prince was literally in Bolg's hands and any attempt at approaching close enough to free him could end the same life they were trying to recover. The hobbit had taken in his circumstances in a matter of seconds, and it had occurred to Bilbo then the value of stealth. Of being able to maneuver without being noticed. Of advancing without being seen.
And it was then that he had buried his hand into his pocket, his mind being made even as he looked around to be sure that none of the orcs were looking directly at him. They weren't of course. So he had slipped the gold ring, which had been sitting quietly in his pocket, onto his figure.
Immediately he was consumed by the sensation of invisibility. It was strange how little one noticed themselves, their own movements, their own limbs, their own eyelashes and hair over their eyes until all those things were gone. The absence of every visible trace affected Bilbo the same way it had the first time he put the ring on in the Goblin Tunnels. It unsettled him, overwhelmed him, and thrilled him all at once. It was both the most amazing and most terrifying thing he had ever experienced. But it was not his life against a grumbling, perplexing creature that delighted too much in riddles this time. Now it was Kili against Bolg and somehow those stakes seemed much higher. So Bilbo spent no more time pondering his state of disappearance and moved.
He had descended with the rest of the Company down the slope towards the orc pack and paused when they all did. But then, after taking several cautious steps to be sure no one noticed the sound of his footfall, Bilbo had continued to approach Kili and Bolg slowly, drawing Sting to his shaking hand as he neared. He didn't know exactly what he should do though when he came within two feet of them. It wasn't until he heard Gandalf's warning and cryptic words to Kili that Bilbo realized the wizard was aware of what he was doing. He didn't know if Gandalf had seen him disappear, or had in some other way figured out what was occurring. Either way it was clear the wizard understood enough to devise a distraction and opportunity for the hobbit to act even as he alerted Kili to ready himself.
Bilbo could see the Company standing tense and on the verge of action. They were straining in Kili's direction and nearly holding their breath in anticipation. They were just waiting for something to happen. The hobbit knew the moment something did they would act. Which meant he had one opportunity to distract Bolg enough to afford his companions the chance to do just that. One opportunity to get Bolg's blade away from Kili's throat so the others could save him.
He inched closer still, until he was not but a foot away. Close enough to strike. He was afraid to stab Bolg in the torso, afraid that such an attack would cause him to convulse, losing control of his muscles and perhaps still slice Kili's throat. A peripheral strike would be better. Painful and diverting. A limb maybe. But Bilbo wasn't tall enough to reach Bolg's arms. So it was the orc's closest foot, his right, that the hobbit chose as his target.
Standing only inches from Kili now, the halfling could see the confusion contorting his features. Bilbo watched his eyes dart about him in search of something he couldn't see. The young dwarf knew something was about to happen, he had deciphered that much from Gandalf's words. He just didn't know what. At the last second Bilbo wanted to give him some sort of idea, a moment of warning before chaos broke out. So he reached up slowly and touched the back of Kili's cold, bruised hand.
Then he raised Sting in both of his own hands and drove it through Bolg's foot.
It was not a fatal wound by any means, but an effective one. The orc roared in pain and surprise, released his hold on Kili and, losing his balance as he drew up his injured, bleeding foot, fell to the side. Kili felt rather then saw his opportunity when Bolg's hands loosened their grip on him and he moved, shoving away from the orc so hard and quickly he stumbled forward.
Fili acted immediately, lunging towards his brother without another hesitation. As the orcs surged to rally around their fallen leader, Thorin and Company had no other choice but to rush in and engage them to protect Fili and Kili. The elder prince reached his brother just as the younger fell into him. He caught Kili, grasping him under his arms as he collapsed forward. Fili was pulled down by the dead weight of his weak sibling and the relief found in that first touch. Propped up on his knees and holding Kili up in a similar position, Fili wrapped his shaking arms around his little brother's body and hugged him to his chest, Kili's head again his shoulder, and tears swelling in his eyes.
He had thought there was no relief greater than the moment he saw his brother alive, but Fili had been wrong. Seeing him was one thing. Touching him, holding him, having him was another. This, this feeling, this moment was the reunion. This was the moment he got his brother back. This was the exact second his grief and fear disappeared. This was the first moment he got to hold Kili again after mourning his death, and feel the familiar form of his sibling cradled in his embrace. This was everything.
Kili was exhausted, and weak, and overcome with emotion. He just stayed there, resting in his brother's hold, and let Fili support his weight as he unraveled, weeks of utter pain and terror being consoled at last by the strength and warmth of loving arms. He cried, silent eager tears. He trembled and felt Fili's hands pressing on his back. Desperate. Unrelenting. There was no space between them, no distance separating them, and no chance of parting them again.
"Kili," he heard his name breathed against his ear, the sound one of pure and raw feeling. He hardly had the strength to answer, but he did. A whisper that was so quiet it would have been missed had Fili not been so very close.
"I'm sorry." He was sorry for all the pain he knew his capture had caused Fili. He was sorry for his mistakes that had instigated it. He was sorry he hadn't been strong enough to escape earlier. He was sorry for the struggles he knew his brother had faced to get there. He was sorry it had happened at all. He was just sorry.
That apology was perhaps the saddest thing Fili had ever heard, breaking his heart in an instant. He shook his head, reaching up to stroke Kili's hair. "No, brother. I am," he choked, his voice unsteady and weak.
The brothers' reunion took place in the middle of chaos with blades spinning and shouts erupting. Bilbo had retracted away from Bolg when the orc fell back, wanting to be clear of the rush of bodies that followed. It wasn't until Gloin's blade came less than two inches from his face that Bilbo realized being unseen no longer benefitted him. He was disguised from the enemy but also his friends. Quickly, and without the chance to think, he pulled the gold ring from his figure and returned it to the depths of his pocket. No one seemed to notice, thankfully. But then the hobbit caught Kili's eyes peering at him over Fili's shoulder, surprise and understanding both present.
Mister Boggins! The touch on his hand. The attack on Bolg. It made sense now. And still…not at all. How had he…? Their burglar's trick was something Kili knew immediately he couldn't figure out at the moment and he hadn't the strength to try. His furrowed brow and Bilbo's gentle shake of his head was all the exchange between them, everything else around them pulling their attention back.
In the opposite direction, over Kili's shoulder, Fili saw something much more alarming. In an instant he saw Bolg recover from his wound, regain his feet, and poise his weapon for an attack. He was positioned to drive his blade through Kili's back and into Fili's heart. Panic washed through Fili's veins in a rushing, pounding fit. He could not bear this threat to the life he had just recovered and his own. He could barely comprehend it. Terror at the thought of it ending like this consumed him. He and Kili both cut down when he finally had his brother gathered in his arms again was unthinkable. He couldn't let it happen.
But there was no one near enough to help them, all the others engaged in their own skirmish. And Fili realized immediately that he couldn't save them both. With Kili's weight in his arms there was no way he could throw Kili out of the way and then dodge the blow himself. There wasn't enough time. Perhaps if he twisted both of them to the side… But there was no guarantee he would get Kili clear of the blade that way.
And he didn't have time to think.
There was only one thing he was certain of. He would not allow harm to befall his hurt sibling. Not again. He could feel his last failure evident in the unfamiliar brokenness of Kili's body.
He couldn't save them both. Only one. But he knew which one.
Fili didn't want to die, especially now that his happiness was returned to him. But he would.
With a grunt of effort and without a second of hesitation Fili shoved Kili away from him to his right. Hard. He caught a brief glimpse of his brother's surprise and confusion in his contorted face, and had a second, half a second, to regret that he wouldn't get to enjoy his life with Kili after all. As expected and despite his effort, Fili's tired body didn't have the strength, the initiative, to fling himself far enough out of the way to avoid the coming attack, and he knew Bolg's blade would reach it's mark.
Then fingers closed around his wrist and jerked him to the right, yanking his chest out of reach of the orc's weapon. He felt his right shoulder ache in response to the sharp tug, as his left erupted with a searing pain that darkened his vision.
It took a moment before he realized Kili had caught ahold of his wrist as he fell, pulling him in the same direction away from Bolg's attack. It had been just enough force to make the difference, just the amount needed to spare his life. Though not quite enough to spare his left shoulder. The strike that had been aimed for his heart instead buried into his upper arm, blinding him with agony and causing him to lose all sense of balance. He'd gone tumbling after Kili, landing half on top of his brother.
The movement was also enough to gain the others' attention and allow time for Gandalf to reach them, swinging his staff and connecting squarely with Bolg's head. The warmonger went stumbling backwards away from them. The remaining orcs rallied once again towards their leader while the Company closed in around their princes. The separation allowed Bolg's pack to gather him from the ground and begin a retreat.
It was Dwalin who first moved to pursue, stopping only at Thorin's demand.
"Let them go. It is not worth a life. We must attend to them," he said, now looking down at his nephews. With gritted teeth Dwalin and the others complied, finding solace in the orc bodies scattered around them and the sight of both their princes alive.
It was remarkable. An astonishment nearly missed in the chaos and distraction. For there, in a blood-soaked valley after believing it impossible ever again, the entire Company, every last member, was there together.
Breathing. Alive.
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