Fili sighed and stopped in his tracks, digging the heel of one hand into his left eye as if he could physically push the headache currently residing there out.
I don't think that's how it works, Syrath's voice informed him, and Fili scowled.
"I'm a Crown Prince," he muttered, "it should do as I say."
"What was that, your Highness?" One of his guards straightened from where he'd been crouched a few feet away.
I think Bilba has been a bad influence on you, Syrath broke in, and Fili snorted.
You're one to talk, he sent back before turning to the guard to say, "Nothing."
They were all exhausted, but he hadn't heard a single person complain and certainly wasn't going to be the one to start.
The guard nodded and turned back to the corpse he'd been in the process of lifting, not that removing it would make much difference in the massive pile of bodies littering the slopes and valley of Mordor.
From where he stood on the slope, just under the wreckage of the ledge where Gothmog had met his end, all he could see were the dead. The battle had been brutal, and hadn't ended when Morgoth died.
It had become easier, though.
The orcs must have been able to sense the death somehow because, at the moment it happened, discord and chaos had erupted in the ranks. The organization the orcs had shown to that moment had collapsed and many had simply fled, or tried to. The rest had tried to fight, but hadn't gotten far.
The orcs hadn't been the only ones to receive word of Morgoth's death. With communication restored, word had been passed back from Erebor. The news had given the forces of Middle Earth the second wind they needed, while the tapering off of the rainstorm had given the dragons back their fire.
The orcs, exhausted and demoralized, had stood no chance and the fight had soon turned into a rout.
After that, all that was left was the cleanup.
A rush of air swooped by overhead and Fili looked up to see a dragon carrying another load of orc corpses to dump down the ruined crown of the mountain. The stone had long since stopped shaking, and the molten rock had stopped flowing, but a veritable lake of it still ran deep within and was more than adequate to handle the mass of dead orcs and the vermin they called dragons.
The others who had died were being burned on pyres. There was no possible way to transport them back to Erebor before decay set in, especially not when a second mountain of dead already waited there. Instead they were laid out respectfully and burned, a grim activity that had already been going on for the better part of a week now. The pyres lined the valley below, smoke giving an acrid sting to the air that caused his eyes to sting and his throat to burn.
Fili didn't know what was worse, the stench of burning flesh or the smell of the dead they hadn't yet reached, but he did know that both would be haunting his sleep for a very long time.
Shaking off his torpor, he trudged on toward another mound of bodies, to begin the long process of sorting, and identifying if possible, before they were consigned to the pyres. Rings, necklaces, weapons and other potentially sentimental items were removed first in the hopes they could be returned to loved ones.
Fili knelt stiffy, grimacing as his sore knees sank into the thick mud and glop still covering the area. The rain had been heavy, and the ground unwilling to soak it up leaving most of the battlefield covered in a thick layer of mud mixed with blood. Bits of broken armor and other debris littered it, forcing them to wear full armor in order to search. It was an added burden on an already exhausted army, but one they were shouldering in silence.
It was unnerving, in fact, just how quiet it was in comparison to how many were there, shifting through the wreckage left over from the battle to save Middle Earth. They were working in shifts, trying to give people time to rest, but he'd seen more than one person working multiple shifts without comment, haggard and worn but moving, unwilling to leave their comrades to rot on the field a moment longer than necessary.
Fili shifted the orc corpse beneath his feet, and immediately jerked his head away as the wave of flies covering it rose up in a cloud around him. He shut his eyes, and put a hand to the cloth tied around his mouth, trying not to gag against the stench, and sight, from the corpse.
I could just burn them for you, Syrath said quietly in his head. The dragon had insisted on coming to join him, and was curled up several meters away in a relatively cleared patch of ground. Xalanth was curled up near him, sound asleep. There were still pockets of orcs roaming about and Syrath, young and still weak, would be a prime target for them. Fili had refused to let the younger dragon come without another dragon and Syrath had needled his father into accompanying him.
Fili knew why the younger dragon had insisted on Xalanth. The larger dragon had been near catatonic once he'd gotten back to Erebor, refusing to eat, and barely reacting to anyone other than Balin. He'd responded to Syrath's request of course, but even here he wasn't much better. Balin had been worried enough he'd actually left organizing relief among the various races back at Erebor, and negotiating for aid between the kingdoms to come with Xalanth. He was out there somewhere, slogging through the same mess the rest of them were.
No, he sent back to Syrath, looking in distaste at the orc corpses he was knee deep in. They don't deserve the honor. He ran an arm across his forehead, accomplishing little more than smearing the muck coating what felt like his entire body.
Syrath didn't respond, and Fili glanced toward him with a frown. The smaller dragon was still sprawled out next to Xalanth but his focus, Fili noted, was on a large fire burning just at the base of the mountain.
I know it probably doesn't help, he sent to Syrath, but Barahir didn't suffer.
Syrath didn't answer. Beside him, Xalanth stirred and shuffled closer. Syrath curled against him and rested his head on his father's forearm, the rest of his body nearly vanishing as Xalanth, still mostly asleep, put a wing around him.
Fili gave a nod and went back to work. He knew the platitude didn't particularly help, any more than it had helped Aragorn. To be honest, he wasn't sure the man had even heard anything said to him. The last Fili had seen of him, he'd been in a near trance, eyes fixed on nothing, and face pale. Arwen had taken him back to Gondor, steel in her voice and fire in her eyes as she insisted he'd be all right. Fili had no doubt he would be, eventually, but he'd never be completely back to normal. He'd live, but the man he had been before Barahir had died was gone, and wouldn't be returning.
There were many who wouldn't be returning, in one form or another.
He pulled on another orc, shoving it to the side with fingers stiffened and sore from having clenched a sword for hours, and paused at the sight of the young, dwobbit female at the bottom of the pile.
Fili let out a breath of relief, and knelt next to her. "Finally."
You found her?
Yeah, Fili responded.
He'd been searching for days. A few had advised him to let it go, citing how unlikely it was he'd find her before the ravages of decay had made her unrecognizable. He'd refused.
He'd made a promise, and he damn well intended to keep it.
He knelt carefully next to the young woman's body, eyes noting the rents in her armor and the arrow shaft protruding from her right shoulder. She was surrounded by dead orcs, many with wounds that looked as if they'd come from the sword still clasped in her hand.
She hadn't gone down easy and, when she had, she'd made damn sure to take as many of the enemy with her as possible.
"Well done, Opal," Fili said softly. He straightened and gestured toward one of the guards. "Get a litter. I want her put with the rest of Vanguard."
He'd ordered them kept aside, those few from Vanguard who'd survived Erebor just to come and die at Mordor, waiting to send them off as the team they'd been in life. He'd promised Bilba, and was relieved to see it done.
There was little else he could do for his One, as much as he wished there were.
The guard nodded and left. When he returned, they carefully transferred the body onto the litter and took her down to the pyres, Fili holding the front and leading the way himself.
The pyre for Vanguard had already built and it took only moments to place Opal gently alongside her comrades, and light it.
As Fili stood back, fatigue dragging at his body, he heard a shout from somewhere nearby. A glance in that direction showed a full wing of dragons heading their way from the direction of the gate.
They landed a few yards away and Fili went to meet his father and Kili as the two dismounted. Kili's left arm was in a sling from a barely dodged sword blow, and his right fingers were bandaged as, even with a finger tab, he'd ended up firing arrows until his fingers bled.
"I thought you were staying behind," Fili said, weariness making him more irritable than usual. "You won't be much use with only one arm."
"I'll find something to do," Kili said sharply, his own agitation coming through. He'd been back in Erebor, but, knowing him, he hadn't spent any time resting. He moved off, heading toward a knot of Ereborean dwarves working on removing what was left of a comrade from near where a molten stream had flowed. Those who had ended up within the stream were gone entirely, but those who had simply been burned, or who had already been dead and in the way of part of the stream, were still at least partly recoverable.
"Go easy on him," Vili said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "He had it rough back home."
Fili frowned. "Cassie?"
He knew the young woman had survived the destruction of Lake-town, but had been injured, and deeply traumatized.
"She's decided to go to Rivendell to be with her family," Vili said, voice quiet.
Fili frowned in confusion. "He can always go visit her."
"She was rather distant when he suggested it," Vili said simply. "I think she'd rather not think of Erebor, or Lake-town, ever again."
Fili hid a flinch. On the one hand, he could understand. Cassie was young, and had been through a lot in her life. Not everyone handled trauma in the same way, and he couldn't blame her for struggling with having lived through death and destruction for the second time.
On the other hand, he couldn't help the burst of resentment. His brother had been growing to care deeply for the young woman, and her leaving would hurt.
His father's hand tightened on his shoulder, and he nodded toward Xalanth. "It's time for you to get back, don't you think?"
Fili frowned. He wanted to go back, of course he did, but it galled him to leave when there was so much work left to be done.
"Don't worry about it," his father said, as if reading his mind. "I can assure you, there's just as much work in Erebor."
Fili nodded, spirits flagging. "Yeah." He'd seen it when he'd been back a few days earlier, and doubted it had improved much since then. He waved a hand absently at an empty tent set up a few yards up the slope. "I think Galadriel and Celeborn are in there, and Gandalf and that other wizard are around somewhere."
The four of them were officially in charge of things in Mordor. Arathorn was needed in Gondor, and Aragorn wasn't capable of leading anyone at the moment. Thorin had returned to Dis and Erebor, which was desperately in need of her king, and Thranduil...
No one had seen much of him. He'd spent every minute under Morgoth's control fighting him and it had taken its toll. He'd looked faded, washed out as if being seen through a thick mist. Legolas had taken him back to Mirkwood where, reportedly, he was recovering, while his son ruled in his place.
Fili started toward Syrath and Xalanth, Vili in step beside him. "How's Lyth?"
"Frustrated," Vili said with amusement. "You know how she is."
"Angry to be out of the thick of things," Fili said dryly. Her agitation was probably another part of what was making Kili so upset. He wouldn't be surprised if Lyth showed up on her own in the next few days, silently daring anyone to scold her.
He got ahold of Balin through his mind link, and was informed the older dwarf wished to stay behind.
Xalanth will be happier in Erebor anyway. Balin said, worry coloring his tone. I'm still needed here a few days, and then I'll follow.
All right. Fili returned.
Ahead of him, Xalanth woke up and lifted his head at their approach. Fili hugged his father and then easily clambered up onto the dragon's back, strapping in as Xalanth lumbered to his feet, Syrath beside him. It'd be a slow trip back, especially with Syrath injured, but they'd get there.
"Come on," Fili said, reaching forward to pat Xalanth's hide. "Let's go home."
The journey was relatively pleasant, a time to pretend nothing was wrong down below and he wasn't going from one scene of devastation to another.
Too soon it was past, and they were dropping through the clouds to see the peak of Erebor. As with Mordor, she was currently surrounded by pyres, smoke rising overhead as the mountain burned her dead. There were simply too many, and not nearly enough time, to bury them all, not to mention the crypts at the root of the mountain were damaged thanks to Gothmog and his oversized worm.
Xalanth dropped him off on one of the, relatively, undamaged ledges on the upper levels and left to join Syrath who'd already headed into Mirkwood. The smaller dragon had begun to lag during the final leg of the journey, becoming quieter and more stoic as he struggled to reach a place he could land and rest. The dragon levels inside Erebor were still damaged, and the landscape was as covered with the dead as it was in Mordor. That left Mirkwood as the only place for the dragons to rest in relative comfort.
In the back of his mind, he felt the young dragon settle down near Lyth who was in the same place she'd been in when they'd left, curled up next to Sardin. He was being hailed as a hero, not that he was aware of it at the moment with the number of drugs the healers had pumped into him. His hide would heal, but would be heavily scarred, a fact he would probably be proud of and would wear as the badges of honor that they were.
Fili let his uncle and mother know via link that he was back, and received vague acknowledgements in return. After that he headed to his rooms, which were undamaged, and proceeded straight into the bath.
He bathed quickly, changed into a tunic and trousers and headed down to the lower levels. He was so tired he could barely see straight, but he couldn't relax yet. It was important the people see their leaders, especially when most were currently in Mordor, recovering in Mirkwood or away in Gondor. It was vital the people not feel abandoned, and that they see someone in charge doing something to help them. Fili knew Lord Bard was helping the refugees from Lake-town so it was up to him and his family to keep the presence back at Erebor.
The ruins of the marketplace on the lower level had been turned into a makeshift home for those displaced by the attacks. Nori was leading teams into the other levels, verifying which areas were safe to move people into, and which would need reinforcement or repair to be made safe again. The last Fili had seen of him, he'd had Dori and Ori with him, insisting there was no need for them to be out of his sight ever again.
Fili visited the lowest levels, stopping to talk to and reassure people as best he could before heading to the infirmary to do the same. Kaia was in there, griping about being forced to recover from a nasty gash she'd gotten on her leg when Morgoth had decided to resurrect a Mahal damned dragon.
He was slightly ashamed to admit he wasn't entirely aware of what he said to anyone, or what was said to him by that point. He hadn't been able to sleep much on the way home, his nerves still too on edge to relax. Now that he was back, his body was doing its best to send him to sleep on his feet. Every word someone said to him seemed to be coming from a long way off and his own responses were sluggish.
Someone finally pushed him out into the hall with a firm order to go get some sleep. Having nothing better to do, Fili headed for the royal level. He was vaguely impressed he made it and didn't fall asleep on the way, simply collapsing against a wall or in a doorway somewhere.
He made it, however, and walked with heavy steps down the corridor to the rooms at the far end. Silence greeted him as he entered, quietly shutting the door behind him. His head was pounding, and he had the vague feeling of illness one got when pushed several leagues past their limit.
The door to one of the bedrooms was closed and he paused in front of it for a brief second, before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.
Dwalin lay in the bed in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed and face pale. The only movement was the slow rise and fall of his chest, the only sign of life any of them had seen since Sardin had dragged him out of the lake days earlier.
He hadn't been breathing when he'd been pulled out. It had been one of the survivors from Lake-town who'd somehow managed to get him breathing again, but she hadn't been able to wake him.
No one had been able to wake him since.
Doctors came in to check on him regularly, but there was nothing they, or anyone else, could do for him.
He would either wake up, or he wouldn't.
Fili moved forward as silently as he could, carefully walking around the end of the bed to where a long, cushioned lounge chair had been dragged up to sit alongside the bed.
I will stab you in the throat, a tired, half-asleep voice informed him, and he smiled in spite of himself.
I'd appreciate it if you didn't, it's just me.
From her position, stretched out on the lounge chair, Bilba made a non-committal sound and relaxed, having never fully awakened to begin with. She slept on her side, one hand under her head, the other under a pillow and no doubt clutching a very sharp knife. Her rest had been uneasy until Fili had handed her one of his boot knives. She'd clutched it, still sound asleep, shoved it under her pillow and immediately dropped into a deep sleep.
She certainly needed it.
Syrath had been the one to catch her as she'd fallen, and then had been supported in turn by the host of other dragons who'd flown after.
All of them soaring upwards to catch their rider. It was unprecedented, and insane, and absolutely the sort of reckless, insane thing he'd come to expect from Bilba. She was every bit as bad as his uncle Frerin who, after having an emotional reunion with his brother and sister, had refused all but the most basic aid before throwing himself into the relief efforts.
It was also, apparently, headache inducing to a degree that made Fili's current headache look like a papercut. All those soul bonds, all at once, trying to settle into place in her mind had created a pain so intense she'd been left nearly paralyzed with it. Fili and Syrath had taken on as much as they could and, as the others had slowly settled, they too had taken some until she'd finally been able to relax enough uncurl from the ball of misery she'd been locked into.
Fili approached and gently coaxed her up enough to allow him to sit down. She grumbled, but complied, settling again with her head on his thigh and her hand curled under his leg.
Did you find her? she asked sleepily.
I did, Fili answered simply. They're all taken care of now.
Thank you, she managed, and then was gone again, sleep pulling her back under.
As he settled back, Fili could hear the faint squabble of multiple dragon voices bleeding over from her soul bond into his. The dragons had sorted themselves into some sort of strange hierarchy that only they understood, with two or three self-naming themselves the leaders and keeping the others from overwhelming Bilba, which would make it hard for her to think and probably cause yet another headache.
Syrath wasn't thrilled with having to share his rider with every other dragon in Middle Earth, but was happy to know there was no nowhere she could go without having someone there ready, willing and able to protect her.
Not that she'd be able to get in trouble any time soon. The bondings had taken just about everything out of her, and that was before the injuries she'd taken, the worst being her shoulder which was heavily bandaged. She'd been dead on her feet for days, barely able to muster the strength to sit up, much less stand.
Not that there was anywhere she'd have gone, not with her father in the state he was in.
He sighed, and ran a hand over his eyes, before frowning at Dwalin. It was such a strange thing, to see him so still when he was used to the Captain of Erebor's guard being anything but that.
He'll wake up soon, Bilba's voice muttered in his head and Fili frowned.
I'm sure you're right.
I am right, she returned, voice slightly stronger. He promised if I needed him, he'd come.
Fili didn't respond. There was nothing to be served by pointing the fact that not even Dwalin could overcome the limitations of his own body.
She already knew.
Instead, he settled his arm on the armrest, put his other lightly on her waist and relaxed against the back of the chair.
You'd better wake up, he managed to think in Dwalin's direction just before sleep forcibly claimed. If you disappoint her, I swear I'll kick your ass myself.
