Sorry this has been so long! My husband and I have purchased our first house, so things have been crazy busy. After this chapter there will be a short epilogue. Enjoy!

xxx

Fili's heart felt as though it might burst in his chest. Fear gripped him in its cold fist as he turned to investigate the source of the sound. There was a figure laying sprawled on the snowy ground, but it was not Kili as he originally feared.

'Vanora!' he hurried to her side, hesitating when he saw crimson slowly seeping into the crisp, white snow. Unsure of what to do, he placed his arm around her shoulders and then reached down to press his hand to the wound. Her breath was coming in horrible gasps and there were tears shining in her eyes.

'F…Fili…' she croaked. 'They found me'.

'It's okay, it's okay,' he nodded desperately to reassure her, though he had never seen anyone survive losing so much blood. 'I'll put pressure on it, yes? Then we can get to Gandalf. Gandalf will make it all better. Okay, Vanora? You are going to be just fine'.

Vanora smiled then, or at least it seemed like she was trying. Her eyes were unfocused as she looked up at his face.

'You…you called me Vanora,' a horrifying gurgling sound came from her mouth, and she coughed, blood dribbling out of the corner of her lips.

'Yes,' he laughed softly. 'And I'll call you that every day if you wish. You just have to make it through this'.

He pressed his hand a little more firmly to her abdomen, causing her to groan and splutter as more blood trickled from her mouth. Her brows furrowed into an angry frown and she pushed weakly at his hand. She gave up after a moment, raising her hand to the beads hanging loosely in her hair. She tugged at them, wincing as a few strands of her long, brown tresses came with them.

'You…' she coughed again, expelling more blood onto her chin and neck. 'You will make a great king one day'.

Fili was speechless as she took his hand and thrust the string of beads into it. The smooth stones pressed uncomfortably into the skin of his palm. He looked back up into her eyes and let out a shaky breath. Her eyes were on him, but there was a glassiness to them that told him that she wasn't seeing him anymore. Hot tears welled up in his eyes and spilled out onto Vanora's coat and he gently removed his arm from around her shoulders.

The hand in his was limp. He tried to understand what had just happened, but there was just something so wrong about the paleness of her skin and the lack of a smile on her youthful face. A wave of unexpected emotion hit him like a tidal wave and threatened to drown him. Vanora was dead. Sweet, caring Vanora who felt guilty crushing a bug underfoot was gone. She was a beacon of kindness and love. He sniffed, angrily wiping the tears from his eyes.

Looking up above where she had fallen from, he growled. They would pay. He would find them all and he would slay every last—

'Kili!'

Fili heard the feminine cry and leapt to his feet. 'Kili?!'

He stuffed the beads into his coat, giving Vanora one last pained smile before hurrying off in the direction that he hoped his brother would be.

Xxx

When Aranel awoke, she felt as though her body had been pulled apart and then sewn back together again. Everything ached. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the white snow outside of the room, she realised where she was. She gingerly ran her fingers along the wound and was amazed to find that it was not nearly as painful as she had expected it to be. She sat up slowly, easing herself up to rest against the cold stone wall. She panted a little from the strain on her abdomen, but she quickly regained her breath.

Looking round the small room, she saw her bow and quiver of arrows leaning against the far wall, but not her sword. A glass bottle sat nearby, and she seized it, downing the contents immediately. It had been a long time since she had honey ale, but it was just as wonderfully warming and smooth as she remembered it.

'Vanora?' she called out, craning her neck to see further outside.

She knew that she couldn't be too far away. Whilst she had been suffering from blood loss, Aranel could remember some of the journey that had brought her to Dale. Vanora had rescued her and Aranel would not soon forget her courage. Pride swelled in her chest as she thought of all that Vanora had risked. Of course she would have to reprimand her for taking such a risk, but she was infinitely grateful.

'Aranel?' she turned to see Gandalf standing in the doorway, sword out and flecks of dark blood staining his robes. 'You are awake. If you are able, we must leave'.

'And go where?' she asked. 'Where is Vanora?'

'Vanora went to warn Thorin and the others. They rode to Ravenhill but were riding to an ambush'.

'What?!' Aranel leapt to her feet, only to double over in agony.

'Calm yourself,' Gandalf scolded, 'Bilbo has also gone to ensure the message was delivered. He insisted. I am sure that between the two of them they were successful'.

'How could you let her do that?' Aranel hissed, raising herself back up to full height and grabbing the bow and quiver from beside the door. 'She's not'—

'She was more than capable of getting you here,' Gandalf cut her off sharply. 'You doubt her far too often'.

'I do not!' Aranel growled at him and then winced as another sharp burst of pain radiated through her abdomen. 'I just want her to be safe'.

'And what is she supposed to do when you're not there?' Gandalf asked.

'I do not have time for this,' Aranel huffed, brushing past him on her way out of the room.

'Aranel?' he called after her. 'Where are you going?'

'Ravenhill,' she replied calmly.

'You are in no state'—

'Gandalf,' she cut across him, 'she is my family; he is my king. I will go to them'.

She left him there without another word. Her body protested as she picked up pace, but she gritted her teeth and continued. She could hear the echoes of fighting far above, but the fog obscured her vision. Readying her bow, she prepared to fight her way to her loved ones, hoping that she could avoid a swordfight.

Xxx

When Aranel reached the top of Ravenhill there were orcs bodies littering the snowy ground. Her eyes scanned the ground desperately for any sign of her sister or friends. Climbing over another outcrop, she caught sight of a small figure laying still on hard stone.

'Bilbo!' she rushed to his side and took his small frame into her arms. Relief washed over her as he blinked, looking blearily around him at the carnage.

'Aranel?'

'Yes,' she nodded. 'Where is Vanora?'

'Van…' he trailed off, frowning, and scrubbing a hand down his face. 'She's…she's gone'.

'Gandalf told me that she would be here. Where is she?' she demanded, looking about for any sign of her sister.

'She's gone,' Bilbo repeated weakly, tears filling his warm, brown eyes.

'Where?' Aranel asked even though deep down she knew what he had meant.

'Aranel…' he began, reaching out as if to comfort her.

'You're lying,' she brushed his hand away and shook her head, unwilling or unable to accept what he was trying to tell her. That was impossible. That had never even entered the realm of possibility.

'Azog, he…' Bilbo trailed off, choking on a sob. 'I don't know about the others…'

He continued to speak, but Aranel heard none of it. Clouds drifted across her mind and when she blinked everything blurred together. The pain was unlike anything she had ever expected to feel in her long life. The wound that Thorin had given her was nothing in comparison to the pain in her chest. It felt as though her heart was being compressed, like some horrible tentacled beast was constricting it. Breathing suddenly became a near impossible task.

She knew that Bilbo was beginning to panic at her lack of responsiveness, but she could not speak. Her voice was gone in the wake of her pain. Then a moment later the pain gave way to a white-hot rage. Her blood felt as though it were boiling and might bubble out of her skin at any moment. The internal heat made her skin tingle in the cold breeze, and she felt strangely invigorated by her newfound need for vengeance.

The screeches of more foes approaching alerted her to the frozen river and the tower beyond. She had seen the signals from that spot when the battle had first started. Azog had been there. He was quite possibly still there. Would he have Thorin's head as he had proclaimed, he would? The thought only fuelled the inferno inside her.

Bilbo was long forgotten as she charged her way down the rocky bank to search for the Pale Orc. There were several orcs approaching from along the river, though their eyes were not on her. She gladly ended their miserable existences one shot after another. All the while her face stung from the silent tears that continued to fall. She wanted to scream. She wanted to summon the Pale Orc to her side so that she could rid the world of his cruelty.

Then, as though her wish had been granted, she heard a great crash from further down the river and a familiar voice cry out in pain. Her heart leapt in her chest and she forgot about the rest of the orcs approaching.

The sight that met her eyes nearly made her freeze in her tracks. Azog was looming above Thorin, blade thrust towards his heart. Thorin was holding him back with his sword, but barely. Aranel leered at the smirking face of the Pale Orc and loosed an arrow straight into his forehead.

Xxx

Thorin rolled to the side as Azog stumbled back. The shot was deadly and Thorin turned in confusion to see Aranel approaching. She looked terrible. Not at all the same confident elf he had come to know. Her pale skin was somehow even more so and there were dark circles around her bloodshot eyes. The blue coat she wore was stained with dark blood, most of which he realised with dismay was her own. The thought pained him greatly.

'Aranel…'

The elf did not acknowledge him, instead letting out an unearthly scream as she sprinted at their fallen foe. Thorin could do little but look horrified as she seized the arrow from Azog's head and wrenched it free, only to plunge it into his head once more. She cried and screamed in a language he knew to be hers but did not understand.

She punctuated each word with another stab, raining dark blood all over herself and the ice below. Once he saw her begin to slow, he approached, gently taking her by the hands and pulling her away from the body. She sank to the ground in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest.

He whispered soft words in Khuzdul, stroking her back and placing soft kisses to her wind-tossed hair. Somehow despite what was to come, he felt calm. It dawned on him that it was because of her. So much was because of her, including his still drawing breath. He would have let go. He accepted that. If Aranel had not intervened, he would have let himself die to end Azog. There was no denying the love he felt, but there would be time for that.

xxx

Some time later when the valleys had grown quiet and the search for survivors began, the company of Thorin Oakenshield brought out the bodies of their fallen prince Kili and their friend Vanora to pay their respects. The moment Aranel saw the dwarves carrying Vanora, she scrambled out of Thorin's arms.

'Give her to me!' she cried desperately.

The dwarves were silent and respectful as the older elf took her sister into her arms and cradled her head. Thorin stood back, not wishing to intrude on such a private moment. He also had his own loss to grieve. Fili was standing off to the side of the group, clearly trying to maintain a brave face. Thorin strode over to him and they embraced. No words were spoken, but the gesture conveyed all that needed to be said. Thorin pulled back and gave Fili's shoulder a light squeeze. Fili sniffed and nodded his head, fiddling with something in his hand.

'Why would you do this?' Thorin heard Aranel ask. Her voice was a little muffled as she spoke into Vanora's shoulder. 'Why would you think you could fight?'

'She told Gandalf that she had to protect Thorin,' Bilbo's voice startled a few of the company, who then gave him nods of acknowledgement.

Aranel's only response was a watery laugh. Thorin noticed Aranel's shoulders begin to quake once again and knew that the harsh reality was settling for her as it was for him. His young nephew was such a boisterous and lively child. A wave of grief threatened to overwhelm him as Thorin considered the conversation that he would have to have with Dis. She loved both of her sons equally, but Kili was her baby. Just a lad with his whole life ahead of him.

Thorin turned away from his nephew's body, unable to gaze upon his pale face any longer. His eyes trailed over to Vanora, cradled in her sister's arms. It was unnatural to see her so still, when she had always seemed to be fidgeting with something every time he had laid eyes on her. Guilt mingled with grief as he considered his treatment of the young elf. She had showed them all nothing but kindness and an almost smothering amount of warmth at times. She cared about everyone, regardless of what they thought about her. Even orcs and goblins, the scourge of the world, received her pity.

He caught Aranel's eyes and saw in them a silent plea. He strode back to her and knelt beside her, powerless in the face of her grief. It didn't matter to him that they were not alone as he pulled her back into his arms, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. He knew that he had to apologise. Had to grovel. But not comforting her would only add another offence to the long list he already had to apologise for. His body had begun to ache a little from the exertion of battle, but Aranel's warmth was wonderfully soothing. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a few tears for Kili, for Vanora, for what he'd done to Aranel, and for the losses of his people.

xxx

So... I hope you're not too upset. I've had this planned from the beginning, I just hope I did her justice. Please let me know what you thought.