To my dear Guest, and everyone else wondering about an answer to your questions: I hope the following will clarify to a small degree! Thanks again for your patience. You all deserve a treat! My wrist is getting better and I can type a little faster. :) -and the DoS was amazing!
Ruin.
The entire valley had been ruined from war- littered with immobile corpses from every side, a vast sea of crimson humps trailing into the sunset. Balin looked on with saddened eyes.
The battle was officially over but at the cost of many lives. Most men and dwarves scavenged the wide area between the mountain and Dale for any survivors while the elves tended to the wounded. Tents were uprooted near the crumbled stone of the desolate city for shelter from the cold temperatures creeping in, and anyone with injuries were sought out by healers.
They had survived against such insurmountable odds, yet Balin didn't feel it quite a victory. He himself had considered it luck that he had survived with barely a scratch. The old dwarf couldn't say the same for the more unfortunate souls who weren't so propitious. His own brother Dwalin hadn't the fortune of leaving that battle unscathed either, subsequently receiving a broken arm after colliding into a warg's skull. How he managed to do it was a mystery. Although, it didn't appear to hinder the warrior's anger when an elf-healer attempted to treat either member of the company, especially when it concerned the royal family.
No one was allowed to go in their tents unless authorized by Dwalin. Even with one arm out of commission, none dared to test the brute's determination to stand guard over his king. Bypassing him was a challenge. Even Dain's time was limited when allowed, much to the amusement of many.
Balin breathed a sigh of relief in knowing that two would be physically alright. This would take a toll on everyone's mentalities for their recovery. For the other, it was anybody's guess.
The old warrior vacated his perch atop the Front Gate of the Lonely Mountain, and left the tranquility for the deceased. Another hour and they will lose the light of the sun for the ongoing search below. Part of him didn't want to leave the view of the freshly hewed grave but he pressed onward in search of Gandalf amidst the crowded turf.
"Bilbo, you're alright! And in one piece I might add." Balin's eyes lit back to life upon seeing the hobbit nestling within a blanket for warmth by a fire. He rejoined his small friend who sprung to attention ever so slightly, now accompanied by a wizard, bowman, and an amiable Elvenking.
"Good to see another friendly face."
Balin could hear the jagged tone in the hobbit's broken voice. His vision drifted into the distance, past the old dwarf, then slowly returning to gaze into the amber flames. He clutched the worn fabric around his shoulders to shield himself from the increasingly frigid temperature and shadowed beings drifting from place to place. Bilbo had been shaken by the war. For a kind, gentle soul of the West, hobbits were unaccustomed to such horrors and death. Balin held a great deal of respect for Bilbo after enduring such an adventure and trepidation.
"So much blood has been spilled this day." Bard expressed miserably, eyes down-casted towards the burning flames each time men carried stretchers past them. Like the dwarves and even the elves, he too had lost kin – good, strong, abled men who had laid down the lines for a chance of another day.
"More would've been spilled had it not been for Beorn's arrival." Gandalf noted with empathy. "This was bound to happen but we have more pressing matters to deal with: winter is upon us and necessary preparations need to be made."
Bard nodded in agreement. "We'll need food and shelter. The dragon crashed over Esgaroth, nearly the entire town has been decimated."
The bowman turned to the ruins of Dale, unheeded determination and doubt clouding his mind's eye. A chain of ideas slowly manifested together as he idly surveyed the structures closest to camp. Some buildings appeared to be salvageable and of good use if only for a temporary fix.
Balin shifted his own gaze to another small search party of men who had passed in silence. "Any sign of Éla?"
He'd been meaning to ask the leaders earlier, but Bard only shook his head as the Elvenking quietly excused himself as elegant as a light breeze flowing through fallen leaves.
"Nothing yet. Your companion could be anywhere. Do not hold out for luck." Bard knew of whom the dwarf spoke of and pitied them over the inevitable. "Your friend could already be gone."
"I know." Balin's gaze fell to the ground, a thought all too familiar in past battles won. "I know."
"Her death would be honoured along with the rest, but the wizard is right; focus on tending to the wounded and homeless." Dain stepped foot into their little circle, leaving the older dwarf feeling a bit uncomfortable.
The lord of the Iron Hills was a calculating fellow and quite reasonable at that. He never passed immediate judgement like others in his place of power unless required. Balin was concerned for the dwarf's temper if he found out about his cousin's affairs throughout their journey. The last they needed was Falo being called upon if Thorin succumbed to his wounds in the days to follow.
These next few weeks would be trivial.
Éla had awoken, senses alerting her in a state of panic as dark, hollow eyes focused on sprawled, disembodied people lying all around her. There was a strong odour of metal and blood which stung her lungs with each breath as she carefully lifted her upper body from the ground. Her muscles ached in protest to her frail movements and her body limped back on the soiled dirt.
Disoriented, the female dwarf took a moment to rest her forehead to the ground. She couldn't remember how she was knocked out cold. She inhaled a few short breaths as a familiar pain zapped across her mid-section like daggers and her vision blurred out of focus. Everything hurt. Her arms and torso felt like iron, heavy and difficult to move.
A harsh gurgle escaped from under a dead man, notifying her of another presence. Éla narrowed her sight to focus on the area the peculiar sound originated. There shouldn't be any noises coming from someone already dead. Her heart stopped then sped to a beat of panic as something latched onto her right ankle.
Éla let out a yell in agony as she was dragged backwards towards a small mound of deceased. The angle twisted her leg far enough to force her to turn on her back, only to make contact with dull, yellow eyes, and grimy olive fingers.
"You filth." She said under her breath and kicked the goblin in the face with her free boot.
The creature seethed out of anger and lunged its arms for her lower limbs as she desperately scrambled to put distance between them.
Éla kicked off the ground, spraying dirt in the goblin's face and took the opportunity to run. Running was a cowardly escape, but what choice did she have? There were plenty of weapons amidst the bodies lying around and none could be seen. It felt more natural to flee. She made it ten feet maybe less, before her knees caved in and tossing her back on the ground in pain. Her body expelled the contents within her stomach as it flipped and turned.
Every movement, her body forbade relief as muscles began to throb from excessive excursion and she collapsed again with another failed attempt to stand on two feet.
Éla rummaged her surroundings for a weapon of any kind as steps drew nearer. It was of no use as everything blurred into browns and blacks. Voices closed in and the female forced herself on shaky knees.
"Don't," she brought a hand to her temple as her frame began to sway on the spot, "k-keep your distance."
Opening her eyes, everything grew dark and faded. The night swallowed them whole as the voices spoke in fluent tongues unknown to her. A tall, lean figure stepped closer only for Éla to swat its outstretched arm away as if it were a foe.
Friend or foe, she still could not tell.
Éla's world spun as she attempted to flee again. Her concern for the goblin vanished as this new threat surrounded her, preventing an escape. She began to question if it was indeed a threat, for there were no hostile gestures to capture or harm her in that short moment.
A wave of nausea and dizziness took hold and there was an odd sensation of an eternal fall, only she never recalled hitting rock bottom.
Have a safe and happy holiday!
I'll see about getting regular updates again now that I can type in full force. The next update will have more answers, more character interactions, and more insight regarding life and death. It'll certainly make up for such a short chapter here. :)