Alyssae saw his lips move, but no sound was audible. She felt distraught for she could do nothing. She could put a ring around her finger and become invisible, but that wouldn't help her escaping and getting a healer.
She pushed her lips against Thorin's hair, that was soaked in blood. Softly she started to sing. The sounds weren't as clear as they normally were, since her throat was swollen. Now and then it was only uncontrollable sobbing that filled the air.
She could no longer formulate the right words and they often got stuck in her throat, so that she couldn't finish the tale she was telling. A tale that existed of feelings instead of words. She got so emotional her voice died and she stared forward sadly and defeated, trying to accept the situation.
She battled against sleep. The room was so dark it was hard to keep her eyes open, but she was afraid Thorin would no longer be with her when she gave in. That he would be gone forever if she opened her eyes again.
She sat a little upright. Her arms were convulsive because she sat in the same position for such a long time. Carefully she let go of Thorin, although she threw her arms around him quickly again. His body felt cold, as if it absorbed all the coldness around them.
Alyssae clung to the thin hope that Thorin would make it to the next day, although only a very experienced healer would be able to patch him up – if anybody was able to do that at all. She tried to ban the fear that Thranduil would keep everyone away from them until Thorin was dead, but that thought crept into her mind time after time.
Alyssae's thoughts were cut off when something changed. Thorin suddenly breathed rasping. His death-rattle made her feel sick. Even though she had known his end was near, she didn't want to give in, even when he had done himself.
Tears ran down her cheeks again and she gasped for breath too.
"Don't leave me," she whispered.
He did not answer. It must have been hours since his voice had sounded in this cell. She wished she could go with him and leave everything behind, but the fate of Erebor rested on her shoulders now. The key seemed to glow in her brassiere as if it felt its owner was dying.
"I am so sorry you will never enter Erebor. I –"
She couldn't bear the pain. Crying she clung to Thorin. Her howling echoed through the dungeons. It was so unfair. So cruel.
Her arms became powerless and she lost her grip. On herself. On Thorin. On reality.
Without thinking she stood up and walked to the barred fence, shaking it heavily. "Help us!" she screamed. "Anyone who hears me and does nothing, will be cursed forever!"
Her enraged screams seemed to bounce upon an invisible wall, coming back in all intensity. She fell back on the ground and crawled back to Thorin, who coughed weary.
Her bloody fingers stretched to his unrecognizable face and in a mist of tears she bend over him and kissed his lips with fervor. She searched for her uppermost concentration, as if she could share her energy and extend his life by doing that, but his breathing spaces became longer and longer.
"Farewell, my dear Thorin," she whispered with a shaking lower lip, while she crossed his arms over his chest, as was customary to do with the dead.
She felt empty inside, as if her soul had been connected with that of Thorin and they now had flew off together.