***************...**************
***************...**************
Born from stone
A/N:
-I feel the need to thank this story's angel StephCalvino not only for exchanging ideas and practically being my co-author, but also for beta reading the story for you all. She saves the day. You have all my appreciation and love my friend *.*
- I also wish to thank Julie-I-am for all the work she has done in the past and I wish her quick recovery.
Thorin felt as if he had entered a world where darkness duelled both outside, but also deep inside his soul. The moment he took the first step away from the ruined bridge his life was abandoned on the other side. Here he came abruptly face to face with the dark night of the soul. All the doubts about himself resurfaced like a nightmare in order to consume him. All his seething anger turned quickly into wrath about what happened with Eilin and his remorse became a beast that was showing it's sharp fangs. He gritted his teeth against the vortex of negative emotions that swept over him. Was this what his father had to endure for a century before passing away? How much inner strength did Thrain command in order to sustain this darkness for over a hundred years before perishing to the corruption that ruled this land?
That thought threatened to become his ultimate undoing before he even managed to make a dent into this venomous stronghold. When his fingers secured around the pommels of his swords, he felt their tips touching the edges of the iron walls. He flared them out, needing to create enough noise to alert the filth that occupied this place of his presence. Fragments of rusty metal fell as his swords cut through the ruined walls of these forgotten corridors like butter. As he walked through the dark pathways, heavy sweat caused his thick mane to stick onto his temples, cheeks and neck even though snow was still covering the lands even behind the dark veil. He moved carefully along the narrow corridors and under the destroyed archways which were overwrought with tree roots. The touch of evil that flowed through these ancient elven halls was so tangible, it quickly began saturating his skin. The iron reinforcements around him were full of dried blood and his heavy boots were crushing bones after every deliberate step. Rusty cages were dangling from thick tree branches with human remains still in them and the instruments of torture that were used for the prisoners were spread everywhere around, letting anybody that had the audacity to enter, that this was a foul place of suffering and death.
Thorin ascended one of the several winding staircases that led to the demolished upper floors searching for a sign of his father's remains, or for the filth that camouflaged behind this black shroud, but he found neither. He searched every destroyed room, but saw or heard nothing. There was such thick silence surrounding him that he could only listen to his heavy breathing. After a thorough exploration on the upper floors he decided to return to the lower decks, feeling more discouraged by each passing moment. This place looked, felt and sounded completely deserted. Just as he was getting ready to give up, thinking that maybe Thranduil had been mistaken and this stronghold was indeed empty, he saw the first sign of movement. It was a shadow that passed from the edge of his eyesight so quickly it made his skin break out with goosebumps.
He stopped abruptly and held his breath. When the shadow rushed behind him with a terrifying cackle again, Thorin felt his body then and there becoming battle worthy. His brows clouded and he quickly tread on the heels of the shadow, but when he turned around the corner there was nothing to see. Immediately upon that another shadow swished to his left and he turned sharply only to see emptiness again. His eyes thinned and his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth. "Reveal yourself..." he hissed and struck the walls with his swords letting the deep sound of crumbling metal wake up this place and keep his senses on fire. Feeling cleansed by the noise he created, he fasted his grip around Orcrist and struck the wrecked wall again. The sword got buried between two heavy mason boulders. Thorin pulled it violently and the majority of the wall fell in front of his feet with a rolling sound that echoed into the valley beneath. He followed the debris with his eyes until some rocks stopped under one of the swinging cages. His eyes flared with anger and for some reason he felt drawn closer to it. It's door was closed, but as Thorin pushed it open with the tip of his sword, it creaked ominously inside the oppressive silence. Had his father perchance been imprisoned in this vile instrument of torment?
The shadow rushed once more behind him but this time he caught clear sight of it. This wasn't an orc as he had originally imagined, but threads of frayed clothing that looked almost transparent. His lips parted and his eyes became confused as the apparition vanished into one of the intricate corridors before Thorin had a chance to take a better look at it. He focused on the cage and this time gave it a careful push with his hand. Its rusty creaking made his hair stand on end and woke him up from his stupor. Without warning he lunged at it with uncontrollable anger. He raised Orcrist and slashed the rope that was keeping it aloft. The cage crashed in front of his feet and rolled upon the ruined floor until a rock stopped it from falling over the cliff. Thorin walked up and gave it a stealthy kick that sent it flying off. The sound it made as it tumbled down the stony facade of the stronghold was so immense that now Thorin felt certain that he had alerted not only everyone in Dol Guldur, but the ones that resided in Mirkwood also. "Reveal yourself!" his profound voice boomed across the hills and forests.
Nothing moved.
Thorin heard his breathing loud in his ears and a soft breeze blew his sweaty hair away from his brow, offering him momentarily relief. From the edge of his eyesight he caught the same semi transparent apparition reemerging and charged after it. Radagast had been right, there was only death here. Death for every living being that dared to enter. The words of the brown wizard returned viciously to remind Thorin of how utterly pointless this trip to Dol Guldur had truly been. There was no way he was going to recover his father's remains. He had been consumed by darkness and now Thorin was in danger of having the same thing happen to him. The ones residing behind the black magic didn't need to appear before him and fight. They only needed to keep him there until he slowly diminished like Thrain had. Nobody would be able to find him unless they made the leap of death. Suddenly Thorin was able to understand what had happened to his father and he felt even more heart broken upon that grim realisation. Thorin had acted on the spur of the moment, needing to see his original quest to an honourable end, but the only thing he had managed was to return to the dead. To come back to the void. He was giving up his life for the ghouls of his past, as he had given up his life for them when they had been alive and ruling the Mountain.
Out of nowhere he felt like a fool for wasting his life in this manner.
When he entered this forlorn place he knew he wasn't going to get out alive and yet he still took the leap of death knowing that he was acting upon a virtuous and worthy cause. Now that he was behind the shroud the only thing that was able to brighten up his darkness were his memories of Eilin, but even those ended up in waves of adrenaline filled wrath towards the unjust ending of their relationship. How could he turn back now? Was there a choice for him to leave this empty nefarious stronghold and jump the bridge across towards life this time? Upon that thought he turned and looked at the place he had entered through. He couldn't see the other side of the forest. After the destroyed bridge there was only a pulsating darkness awaiting for him.
His lips turned down as he perceived that he wasn't going to be allowed out so easily. The need to find another way out in order to return back to the only person that meant something to him was dire, but he knew it was probably too late. At that moment with all the dark thoughts strangling his mind and with the bright star of Eilin flickering at the edge of his eyesight, the original need to find the remains of his father began fading away. After a long time of hopeless searching he finally stopped in the middle of an open area and looked around him half dazed. He was trying to sustain against an unholy cloud that he couldn't even begin to fathom, never mind take counter measures against. Something in there was trying to empty him of all thought, of all courage and of all purpose. He stood there in the middle of the opening holding his swords with a lose grip, trying to hold off against the veil that was trying to bring him down to his knees.
What eventually managed that formidable task was a malevolent whisper that filled the air around him and sucked the breath out of his lungs.
"Broshan gazat, Durin'uk"*
He kneeled down heavily and winced in confusion. Right there in front of him was a piece of tattered clothing. He let his swords slide out of his palms and reached out for it. His heart was drumming in his ears as he took off his gloves and picked it up. His fingers felt the familiar material and an overwhelming sense of sadness blew him away. He turned it around and his stomach dropped into icy cold water. His eyes turned heart-broken at the sigil of the Longbeards. His chest welled up so quickly that he had to use all his willpower not to moan out loud the pain that awoke instantly in his heart. This was part of Thrain's trousers.
The forces of darkness knew very well how to break the heir of Durin a few moments before revealing themselves.
"Mirdautas vras" **
The voice that spoke behind him this time was guttural, not darkly etherial. The words that fell out of it sounded like rolling thunder. Thorin's fingers tightened around the last part of Thrain protectively and he looked above his shoulder. Orcs were coming up behind him from every direction. Slowly taking up the gap behind him and standing at the landings of the winding staircases at his flanks with their weapons at the ready. He was surrounded. An impending feeling of doom came over him. He placed the sacred piece of Thrain's clothing behind his thick belt and his hands found his swords again.
"So it's war," Thorin stood up. His azure eyes lost their forlorn gleam and sparkled with renewed determination.
"Snaga nar baj lufut"*** one of the larger Orcs snarled at him, showing it's rotten teeth.
"I see no slaves here. Only death," Thorin spoke with a hushed voice. The hairpin at the side of his mouth curled up as his blood flowed with a fire never forgotten. "This is for my father," he raised his weapons and ran up to his enemies with fierceness incomparable.
He embraced his fate with every strike, counterstrike, parry or attack. With every slash of either of his swords a fresh gash of black blood stained his clothes. With every assault the red film covering his eyes became even more dense until he was unable to see anything else apart from his foes being cut down like grass. Every single agonising thought that had occupied his mind after his separation with Eilin got wiped out under the overbearing need to kill, to take out all his built up frustrations upon his enemies. The demand to avenge his father.
And kill he did...
...everyone that approached him no matter where they were. Not a single sword was able to touch him as he slew his enemies with an ease that he wouldn't have believed possible so close to his recent demise. He left body parts and quivering half dead orcs in his path not even knowing where madness began and reason ended. His hands and clothes got covered by black blood and the only thing that was still bright in this darkness were his eyes that were not beautiful anymore, but wild with fury unmatched.
Not a single axe was able to fall down on him without returning back to it's owner's head, throat or torso with malevolent intentions. No war hammer was able to crash him down without turning against another orc close by and pulverising their body. The more he annihilated the enemies of darkness singlehandedly the more they raged war on him...and the more violent he became towards them, until in the end the whole opening had been cleared up and the forces that were patiently waiting at the flanks started marching towards him. Betting on his inevitable exhaustion as the easiest way to his demise, but the heir of Durin proved to be far more resilient than they had been expecting.
He cleared up those hoards with the same ease and no visible signs of fatigue. So many dead bodies were spread around that neither him nor his enemies were stepping on ground anymore, but his victory was truly for naught. When the attack of the Orcs became too weak for comfort, Khamûl along with two Nazgul materialised from the statues that surrounded the clearing and closed in on Thorin.
Instantly the Orcs retreated with shrieks of terror. Thorin lowered his swords and gazed around him out of breath. When he saw the Fell Riders approaching him with their Morgul blades raised he knew it was the end. He looked straight into the blackness and his skin crawled with the first drop of fear, yet he used the adrenaline that was rushing through his body to steel himself. With renewed courage he raised both swords and got ready to attack. This time though he was not dealing with orcs, but with the lieutenants of the Necromancer, the undead. He wasn't capable of killing them. No man could. Knowing that this was a lost fight before it even began, he gritted his teeth and attacked with the same fierceness only to be parried with an ease he had been half expecting.
The strength of an Orcish hand was a mere nothing compared to the blunt force that fell on him time and time again from the Black Riders. It took so much strength for him to parry all three of them, that soon enough his arms became heavily painful. Morgul blades fell on him from every direction and he kept their poisoned tips clear off his body with more difficulty as time progressed. He lasted way longer than anyone would have ever expected after his courageous fight against the countless Orcs and the fact that he was still not yet fully healed from his mortal wound.
He lasted longer than he would have ever expected from himself and hope was not extinguished in him that he could finally prevail against all odds, until a well orchestrated triple attack ended all hope for him. He parried the two blades that fell at his flanks, but the third poisoned weapon remained free as the Black Easterling stood imposingly in front of him. He had no way to parry that attack, not unless he released the hold he had on the other two. He looked with calm decisiveness as the dark Lieutenant brought his blade down and released the hold he had on one Morgul blade in order to cause some damage on Khamûl before perishing. Orcrist slew off part of Khamûl's hand and sent the Shadow of the East screeching away from Thorin. The Nazgul that had just been released found the opportunity to deliver a direct hit straight into Thorin's old wound, sending him to the ground with a howl of pain.
Thorin wrapped his arms protectively around his bleeding wound and saw through the fog that had captured his mind the two Nazgul standing over him with their blades raised above his head. Inside that absence of any light the image of Eilin came into his mind and every single thought came ablaze for him. His eyes filled up with tears of repentance. He didn't mind dying at that moment but he was filled with remorse that he wouldn't get to see Eilin one last time. Caress her rosy cheeks without caring about her supposed betrayal. He wouldn't be able to run his fingers through the softness of her long hair while longing to believe that she had told him the truth about the baby. He wanted to cry out to the skies his plead for forgiveness for sending her away with his words and actions. He should have stood by her side against the whole world if needed. He was yearning to see her one last time and confess that he never stopped loving her...he loved her down to his last breath. Thorin at that final moment before death, felt as if the very deadlocks of his soul had just erupted. His last wish to see Eilin before he died singlehandedly broke apart every single stone that had been tied around his shins with those invisible chains for centuries. His azure eyes came ablaze with a fire that couldn't be subdued by anyone in Middle Earth, except from one...
His One...
...and wasn't it sad that this blazing fire was about to flicker and die by the emissaries of darkness? He saw the blades falling and got ready to take the inevitable strike when another blade stopped that grim progress. Sparks of hot metal washed over his face and hair. His eyes looked at the sword that stopped both Morgul blades and read the runes on it's shiny body.
Black Blade...
The sword he forged with such skill had now saved his life. His brows wavered in confusion. When the Elven King pushed back the Black Riders Thorin felt at the edge of consciousness as the poison from the blades of darkness was already sipping through his blood quickly. He was unable to tighten his grip around Orcrist. His fingers felt too weak, even though he didn't feel cold. He saw through a haze the elven hoards sweeping through the ruins of black magic. He marvelled at the thin elegant outline of the Elven King as he fought valiantly against the Black Riders, but didn't get to see much of anything else as his eyes closed down without asking for his permission.
"King Thorin?" It was the soft voice of Tauriel that brought him back slowly, but it sounded cloaked...like it was coming from afar. She was chanting elvish words of ancient wisdom and something was burning through his old wound...That image felt so familiar and yet so different. He remembered seeing Gandalf leaning above him as he was chanting ancient words of magic up in Ravenhill, but back then the pain from his wound had been so mind numbing that he remembered nothing else. Now he saw clearly the soot and dirt all around Tauriel's face. He gazed deeply into her beautiful eyes and looked at her gentle lips muttering the elvish words and instantly knew why his boy had fallen in love with her. A small smile of sadness appeared on his lips and tears pooled in his eyes. He felt the burning pain that was lingering above his old wound slowly retreating along with his dizziness. Every muffled sound returned and along with them her voice that now sounded sonorous right over his head.
"Can you hear me?" Tauriel cleared his sweaty hair away from his face.
He groaned. "I can hear you, but this is burning me...take it away..." he tried to push her hand.
"It's Asëa Aranion. It will help you with the poison. Let me use it on you before your wound becomes worse." Tauriel rejoined calmly.
Thorin humphed and then closed his eyes with a pained hiss. "For Mahal's sake Tauriel I am fine. Just pull it away...as if I didn't have enough worries already," he muttered.
"Worries you brought down onto yourself," it was Thranduil's quiet voice that made Thorin reopen his eyes.
Tauriel didn't retreat. She remained above him with her hands on his wound, working quietly.
"Well I didn't intend to survive long enough in order to feel your lieutenant forcing her healing powers on me." Thorin spat and glared at her.
Tauriel smirked and shook her head, obviously not intimidated by him.
"Healing powers you are lucky to have at your disposal so readily," Thranduil raised his brow.
Thorin leaned his head back and covered his eyes with his forearm.
"Now please stay silent until I finish, it won't be long," Tauriel looked up to his face briefly and then resumed.
Thorin hated the fact that he was actually doing what she was commanding him, but he had to admit that the more she worked on his wound, the better he felt. When finally she finished she smiled. "It's done. I think you'd better lay down for a while longer, just to make sure the dizziness is completely gone." She advised.
Thorin ignored her and pushed up with his hand coming to a sitting position. He looked down at the torn royal tunic and saw his old wound. Above it there was a much smaller gash that was pumping blood slowly. It wasn't deep enough to be life threatening, yet there was black residues around it from the poison of the Black Rider's blade. Thorin shuddered and pressed it firmly, needing the pain to keep him there, to make him feel alive.
The pale smooth hand that was extended to him drew his attention. He reached out and grabbed Thranduil's forearm and the Elven King pulled him up easily.
Thorin staggered slightly, but when Tauriel tried to steady him he pushed her away. "I can manage. You've taken enough liberties as it is."
She raised her hands and pulled back. "Forgive me...forgot all about dwarven stubbornness."
Thorin's gave her a silent forewarning, but it was Thranduil that drew the King's attention away from the she-elf.
"Suicide mission?" he said coldly.
Thorin raised his brow. "It was until you ruined it. What are you doing here?"
Thranduil cleared up his sword with a cloth before sheathing it. "I answered your call for help." He looked down at Thorin and raised his brow also.
"I didn't call for your help," Thorin frowned.
"Radagast related things to me differently." Thranduil said unemotionally.
Thorin tilted his head. "Oh, I see..."
Thranduil pursed his lips. "Aiwendil lied?"
Thorin closed his eyes in defeat. "He didn't lie, he just adjusted reality slightly."
A ghostly smile appeared on Thranduil's lips.
Thorin gazed at the Elven King steadily. "Thank you for your timely arrival, even though your interference hadn't been part of my original plans."
"We are allies now Mountain King and allies assist each other." the Elven King rejoined calmly.
Thorin smiled thoughtfully. "That we are."
"So...a suicide mission and your kin is nowhere to be seen. I thought they'd care more about their King. That it wouldn't have been so easy to go undetected by your ferocious guarddogs, especially on such a dangerous quest." Thranduil raised his brow and looked around.
"Oh, don't start now that you've made such a valiant effort to sound nice." Thorin looked down at his wound and pressed it in order to cause more of the poisoned blood to spill out of his body.
"Why didn't they use your crows to find out your location? They are always circling above Mirkwood anyway." Thranduil smiled slightly.
"Crows listen only to Roac or me and we are both away." Thorin raised his brow.
Thranduil looked at the ruins Thorin created and the carpet of dead bodies. "You really laid them to waste. You came here with dark intentions."
"I came here to find my father's remains." Thorin rebuked indifferently.
"Did you find them?" Thranduil looked at him with mild interest.
He shook his head and traced the inside of his belt making sure that the last piece of Thrain's clothing was still there. "Unfortunately no."
"After our joined attack on this stronghold the Necromancer will get informed by the Black Riders that the alliance of the North between Elves and Dwarves is true." Thranduil's eyes thinned.
"I find that thought rather encouraging." Thorin sat down heavily on a broken boulder.
"We have become an even greater menace to him. He will not leave us alone after this." Thranduil resumed.
"He is not going to leave alone anyone in Middle Earth that stands in his way. If you wanted a peaceful hiding place you shouldn't have come here today." Thorin rebuked.
Thranduil's voice held a shade of warning. "That brashness was totally uncalled for. I proved my intentions today, pretty adequately."
Thorin sighed deeply and leaned his forehead on his hand. "Indeed you did, forgive me."
Thranduil inclined his head, but remained silent until Tauriel came over. She kneeled next to Thorin and tried to pull away his hand, but Thorin looked up at her and resisted.
"You need to put these leaves on the wound and keep them there. Let me help you." Tauriel tried.
"I feel very well I assure you. You've done enough, thank you." Thorin rejoined stubbornly and tried to take them from her hands.
"The strike of a Morgul blade is not easy on the body. This will eventually render you useless. You will suffer hallucinations and high fever and I rather doubt you wish for something like that after all that you have in your hands right now King Oakenshield." She said quietly. Nevertheless she pulled back, respectful of his personal space.
Thorin raised his brow at Thranduil. "Are all your commanders so forthcoming?"
"Only their leader," Thranduil raised his brow meaningfully.
A small smile appeared on Thorin's lips and he turned back to Tauriel. "Congratulations young lady. You're worth it."
She pressed her lips and showed him the plants. "Thank you, now can I please assist you with this? I used them on Kili when he got wounded at Esgaroth, remember?"
Thorin's face fell, but he held her thoughtful gaze for several moments before he allowed his eyes to glide down to her neck. Kili's rune stone was hanging there from a silver string that shown bright. He removed his hand and showed her his palm. "Give them to me, I will do it."
She bowed gently and offered him the leaves. He took care to place them upon his wound and then he tore a piece of his tunic in order to keep them in place. "Thank you."
Tauriel offered him a sweet smile he didn't see. "Believe me, it was a pleasure."
Thranduil looked around him. "We didn't have any loses and the stronghold is clear now, but I cannot promise on it remaining like this for long. Unless we demolish it to the ground the Necromancer will find a way to send back his forces of darkness to occupy it, sooner or later."
Thorin rubbed his forehead. "You shall be here to counterstrike those attempts. I worry not."
"Where are you going to be then?" Thranduil crossed his hands calmly behind his back.
"I don't know yet..." Thorin's voice broke and betrayed all the gathered emotional fatigue he felt inside.
Thranduil remained silent, waiting patiently.
"...but the alliance shall sustain. I have given the new Mountain King all the signed orders that open up the roads between our realms for trades, military operations and exchange of services as promised. The Longbeard rule of Erebor shall continue to uphold this alliance, on my word of honour. Fear not."
Thranduil shook his head dismissively. "Unfortunately I have to decline. I became the ally of Thorin the second, otherwise known as Oakenshield. I will not pledge allegiance to any other Dwarven King even though he might belong to your family. Your abdication is not accepted by the Elven realm of Mirkwood."
Thorin looked up at him truly spent. "I really don't know if I have the strength to argue with you right now, but unfortunately my abdication is already in the hands of the Mountain King and I am on my way out of here."
Tauriel looked worriedly from one man to the other.
"Not accepted I am afraid." Thranduil insisted.
Thorin shook his head. "You are much wiser than this. I am mortal. I could die any minute. I cannot live thousands of years like you. You will have to continue this alliance with the Kings that will take over Erebor in the future eventually. You cannot avoid this."
"Until you pass from this world, I deal only with you. It was not Radagast who convinced me to stand by your side today King Oakenshield. It was your conduct towards me personally. You gave me back the only treasure I had left from my beloved wife. You didn't trick me, you didn't try to gain anything more than what you deserved out of the exchange. You were honest and true. That is what convinced me to become your ally. So as long as you live, I only deal with you for whatever concerns this alliance and the intermingling of our races. I trust no one else in your stead." Thranduil rejoined coldly.
Thorin felt his eyes tearing up and he looked away quickly. "You are making this very hard for me. I am not returning to Erebor, no matter that your words are touching me deeply."
Thranduil lifted up his brow calmly. "I cannot stop you from departing, but I can stop any other interaction between our people until you return."
Thorin pushed himself up and girded his swords carefully. "I cannot change your mind, can I?"
Thranduil's answer was a majestic look of denial.
"You are even more stubborn than me," Thorin smiled reflectively.
Thranduil raised his brow.
Thorin felt his body in pain and his soul torn apart, but the decision had already been made in his heart and it was irrevocable. "Don't do this to our people. We have a chance to change history." His eyes burned with an intensity that the Elven King felt. "Today we have accomplished something significant in these ancient lands of Black Sorcery. We have given a message of hope and unity against the dark forces of the East. Don't ruin that just because of me. This is a folly."
"I cannot change what is set in stone. For me the alliance between our races exists only if you are sitting on the throne of Erebor." Thranduil rejoined calmly.
"You are allowing victory to the darkness if you act this unwisely," Thorin warned.
"It is not me that is doing this, but you." Thranduil rebuked hard.
Thorin's eyes thinned upon the Elven King. "How am I doing such a thing?"
"By denying your right to the throne," Thranduil tilted his head. "You think the Necromancer will fear the new Mountain King more than you? He tried to diminish you repeatedly and you prevailed. It is the joined forces of the heir of Durin" -he pointed at Thorin elegantly- "and the Elven realm that he fears. If you place another King on that throne the Necromancer shall rejoice. He will try to strike Erebor again in order to map the weaknesses of it's new King. You wish your kin to perish so soon after accomplishing such greatness in the Lonely Mountain?"
Thorin felt his heart rumbling with anger. "Don't think I cannot see through this manipulation."
"I know you can, but this is not a lie I speak off. You know it is true. Your existence worries the Necromancer, that is why he sought to get rid of you on various occasions. You laid the Gundabad Orc to ruins...twice...you prevailed over all his attacks, you reclaimed the golden mountain and now you attacked singlehandedly one of his most important strongholds from a strategic point of view and wounded Khamûl. If you retreat into the shadows, the shadows will come slowly after your people and consequently after mine." Thranduil continued unfazed.
"The current King is an impeccable commander and one of my bravest soldiers. He can hold his own against the enemies that will fall onto Erebor," Thorin frowned.
"I fear your nephew won't be able to keep up with your legacy." Thranduil's eyes thinned.
Thorin swallowed heavily. "Time will force you to work alongside other Dwarven Kings and they will prove much more resilient against the Necromancer than I ever was." Thorin rebuked angrily.
"Let time prove those words then. Till that happens, I deal only with you." Thranduil tilted his head.
Thorin rubbed his forehead dejected. "I am getting nowhere."
Thranduil looked around at the ruins. "No you are not and I need to recruit my soldiers and count our losses."
Thorin sighed and moved towards the broken bridge. "And I need to depart."
Thranduil nodded silently. "Do you intend to return?"
Thorin shook his head. "I don't know anything yet."
Tauriel brought Thorin's horse that she had led above the gap shortly before the Elven attack, and smiled down at him. "I will wish you an untroubled journey back to her." She offered him the reins.
Thorin's lips cracked a small smile. "Thank you for escorting her up to the Misty Mountains. I shall never forget what you did."
Tauriel crossed her arms and looked at King Thranduil. "I was under orders."
Thorin looked up at the Elven King and a faded smile of gratefulness dawned upon his features that Thranduil recognised and reciprocated with a kind tilt of the head.
"May your travel be unweary. Until your return I will refrain from dealing with your kin. I shall hope you will reconsider your abdication once your heart settles, Mountain King." He gave him the title that currently Thorin didn't wish for.
"May the blessings of Mahal be with you and your kin. I shall not forget what you did for me today." He rejoined solemnly.
Thranduil inclined his head elegantly.
Right at that moment no Elven alliance or Dwarven unity under the King's gem could stop him from reaching Eilin and making sure she was alright. He knew that nothing could stop him from holding her once more in his arms. He wanted to beg her forgiveness and embrace her and the child in her with every single morsel of his poor soul. His mind and heart were ready to believe in her love for him and forget the pain and despair they've given to each other. It was with that thought that he set his horse into a trot.
Thorin decided to take the men-I-naugrim, the old Dwarven Road their ancestors used for their trades instead of the Elven path. He pushed on quickly, not addressing his worries about the lost paths of that road or the fact that in its most dark places it was used by goblins. He didn't intend to let this old dwarven road go to waste now that he had the upper hand with the Elves of Mirkwood and Thranduil's magic was not touching them anymore. He needed this path to the west free and the trading routes of the Northmen open to his kin. When he was out of the western exit he marked several trees intending to offer advice to Fili with a message, on how to use this old road in order to help the trades between Erebor and the west flourish.
After several hours of riding he finally decided to camp for the evening in order to rest himself and his horse amidst a cluster of trees close to Beorn's hut. He used some clean water to wipe away the fresh wound of the Morgul blade under his chest, replaced Tauriel's leaves on it and changed his tunic. He didn't even want to hunt in order to get something to eat. He was too tired to do anything. He simply wanted to clench his thirst and sleep for a while in order to gain the strength he needed to resume his arduous journey. He leaned back onto his satchel and his mind flew back and forth between the battle of Dol Guldur, his dire need to see Eilin again and the need to touch his father's last token.
He reached down and pulled it from his belt. The moment he looked at the sigil of his family his eyes teared up and he run his fingers over it. This wasn't the closure he had wished for his father, but he had nothing else to hold onto. This was the last piece the Necromancer allowed him to have of his family. He placed it into his wide palm and closed his eyes needing to rest his weary head.
He had almost drifted off to sleep when a soft rustling in the bushes behind alerting him. His eyes flew open and he grasped both swords. His fingers tightened upon the pommels and his reaction was so quick and so aggressive that Dwalin was unable to stay Thorin's hand and his war hammer fell onto the ground with a loud thump.
"I surrender you troll's armpit, stop!" Dwalin cried and raised his arms in the air as the Orcrist's tip balanced dangerously close to his throat.
Thorin inhaled sharply and pulled back. "Do you have a death wish you bloody idiot?"
Dwalin pushed Thorin's swords aside and lifted up his hair. "Look at this!" -he pointed at his nape that bore a black bruise the size of a fist- "You almost killed me once already. Calm down for Mahal's holy beard!"
Thorin gritted his teeth and sheathed his swords. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I was looking for you! We went to Dol Guldur and the Elves told us which road you took. Tauriel in particular was certain as to your direction! What was going through your head when you rendered me unconscious in order to storm that stronghold alone, tell me?!" Dwalin snapped.
Thorin shook his head and turned the other way. "Go back home, there is nothing you can do to help me now."
"Apparently there was nothing I could do to help you back in Erebor either! You abdicated and then you rushed off into a suicide mission!" Dwalin's eyes glimmered with fury.
Thorin looked back at him coldly.
Dwalin huffed, trying to calm down. "Why are you out here now? Where are you going?" He finally asked after several moments of tense silence.
"I am going to the only person that matters to me most in the whole of Middle Earth," Thorin's voice was steely.
Dwalin frowned. "Eilin..."
Thorin's jawline flexed. "Nothing matters for me anymore. Only her."
Dwalin pressed his lips. "You came to your senses finally, didn't you?"
"I was a fool. A damned fool who sent his treasure away..." Thorin gritted his teeth, truly mad at himself for failing his beloved.
Dwalin's shoulders slouched. "Oh Mahal...this isn't going to go down well with you."
"What isn't?" Thorin looked up sharply.
"Wait..." Dwalin raised his hands.
Thorin exhaled truly annoyed. "Don't anger me more than I already am...Get on with it..."
Dwalin sighed deeply and shook his head. "I've got news for you."
Thorin's fists tightened. "What news?"
Dwalin reached out and grasped Thorin's forearm. "News that concern the paternity of the child."
Thorin's iron grip came out and clasped him back violently. He pulled Dwalin up to his face. "I don't care about the paternity of that child! You understand? If I am the father then I made my One pay for Siv's lies and deception. If that child is mine then I punished Eilin for my dark past. If it isn't then I will adopt it. I need to go to her. Nothing else matters."
Dwalin wiped away a stray tear that ran down his eyes. "Will you please listen to me, for this is serious."
Thorin's lips turned down and he observed his friend's countenance austerely for several moments before nodding. "Speak."
Dwalin spoke reluctantly. "Do you remember the woman that Lis found in the forest?"
"The old hag?" Thorin frowned.
Dwalin nodded. "She's not old. In fact she's a few years younger than your One."
Thorin's throat suddenly narrowed. "A few years younger?"
Dwalin pressed his lips.
Thorin pulled him closer. "What's her name?" He tilted his head with a feeling of perturbation numbing down his hands.
Dwalin closed his eyes. "Rhiannon..."
The colour drained from Thorin's face, but his fingers became iron pincers around Dwalin's arm making him wince in pain. "Eilin's friend...?"
Dwalin nodded quietly.
"What was she doing in Mirkwood Dwalin?" The lower Thorin's voice fell the more terrifying it sounded.
"She escaped the clutches of Karunn...hoping to reveal everything that happened to the King of Erebor."
Thorin's jawline flexed. "Eilin's baby belt..."
Dwalin shook his head quickly. "It was given to Karunn by Rhiannon back at the Forsaken Inn...Karunn's unexpected journey west had been..."
"Adrâb!"**** Thorin's voice thundered into the valley and Dwalin held his breath.
Suddenly Thorin's fingers opened up to release Dwalin and his heart stopped as the world collapsed around him in a heap of ruins. He didn't need anymore clarifications from Dwalin. He didn't need to find a way to connect Nyrthrasir with Karunn, he knew they were together in this. The sound of his world caving in was so loud that the voice of Dwalin didn't penetrate through. His eyes gazed lost somewhere above Dwalin's shoulder and Beorn's hut, while his extremities became unbearably cold. He didn't feel Dwalin's strong arm reaching out to steady him as his legs turned wobbly.
"Eilin's child..." he whispered with what seemed to be the last breath in his chest.
"Rhiannon's words are proving..." Dwalin didn't have the strength to continue as he was witnessing his friend quickly breaking apart.
"It's mine..." Thorin's breath suddenly returned with unbelievable force and he exhaled violently.
Dwalin came behind him and wrapped his strong arms around Thorin's shoulders. "Seeing you like this I don't want to deliver the most important news."
Thorin felt lost trying to understand what Dwalin had just told him. When he decided to flee from Dol Guldur and go find his One he already had come to the resolution that he believed her, yet the realisation that the child in her could be his, hadn't truly settled in. "More news...?" he asked bewildered.
"I led the brigade to Dol Guldur in order to help you when Radagast notified us of your position. Roac searched for you endlessly, but when he was unable to locate you behind the dark veil he came to Erebor. He spoke with Dis." Dwalin said carefully.
"Roac is away...I've sent him away...how can he be here?" Thorin tried to look above his shoulder at Dwalin, but his friend kept a tight hold at him. "Let me go you fool!" Thorin thundered.
Dwalin's grip didn't relent. "I won't let you go, for you will collapse..." he whispered.
"Why did Roac leave Eilin?!" he said and desperately tried to get rid of Dwalin who didn't budge.
"He returned with bleak news."
Thorin felt his chest contracting in anguish and this time Dwalin was unable to keep his hold on him. Thorin turned around out of breath and pale as a ghost. He felt the pain down his stomach reawakening brutally. The pain he had felt upon waking up from that confusing dream. The pain that told him that something serious had befallen his precious. "What happened to her?" he stammered and searched eagerly Dwalin's face.
Dwalin reached out and grasped his forearm. "She's bleeding."
"What?" Thorin's voice diminished.
"That's the only thing Roac said." Dwalin looked at Thorin's eyes intensely.
It was as if a ferocious fist wrapping tightly around Thorin's stomach and squeezed it so hard that he felt nauseous. A rush of adrenaline numbed his hands and legs and send a wave of goosebumps up to his nape and head. "Oh Mahal help me..." he whispered not knowing which direction to bolt to as he was momentarily rendered paralysed.
"Thorin, please, stop for a moment. Breathe...we don't know what happened exactly. We need to get to her first..." Dwalin's tries to calm him down were useless.
"Oh heavens please help me...the child..." Thorin whispered and leaned over gasping for air. Needing to find somewhere to hold on to as he lost the whole world around him.
Dwalin rushed and wrapped his arms around Thorin's shaking shoulders from the back again, wanting to keep him aloft. "Steady...breathe! For the sake of life open your damned mouth and breathe!" Dwalin bellowed when he heard Thorin's throat wheezing.
Thorin was trying desperately to pull in air, but his body was denying him. This new pain was beyond anything he had ever felt in his life, beyond any fortitude. "My child...my child..." he gasped and tears of agony released from his eyes as he looked lost into the darkness, not knowing where reason lay anymore.
Dwalin gritted his teeth and pressed his arms around Thorin's body who was trembling beyond any control. Trying to stop him from falling apart. "Please breathe, listen to my voice, Thorin listen to me!"
"My child..." -Thorin frowned and felt his body shutting down- "...I...killed...my ...child..."
Dwalin bumped his forehead at Thorin's nape, wishing to bring him back in some manner. "We don't know if the child is dead! Stay with me for heaven's sake!"
Thorin's eyes closed and as he kneeled down an inhuman cry of woe and torment erupted from his mouth which echoed through the forests of Mirkwood. It rolled like thunder above it's enchanted pathways and reached the stonewalls of Erebor, reverberating faintly on the valley of his Kingdom before dying out. The passage of his agonising scream woke up animals and Elves, Dwarves and Men, but not Thorin whose world faded away.
He blew out like a candle and then there was only darkness.
It took Dwalin the whole day to bring back Thorin whose only words as he was coming in and out of reality included Eilin's name and his dead child. No matter how many times Dwalin tried to reassure him that Roac didn't know if Eilin had lost the baby Thorin remained unresponsive. Just when Dwalin was about to put him back on his horse and lead his half unconscious body back to Erebor, Thorin finally opened up his eyes, but that was about it. He meticulously averted them from Dwalin and didn't respond to any question. He took Dwalin's offer for a drink and some food which was pathetic in his bodyguard's opinion and then tried to mount his horse in order to continue his trek, but collapsed from exhaustion, both physical and mental.
"You need to rest before we try to get back to her," Dwalin tried to shake Thorin back to reason.
No response as Thorin attempted to mount again, but his legs gave way under him.
"You can barely stand!" Dwalin pulled his arm, but Thorin broke free.
It was only the next words that stopped Thorin's weak tries to get back on the road. "Please have mercy on me, I need to rest." Dwalin said quietly.
Dwalin's well being was the only thing that convinced Thorin to follow Dwalin to Beorn's house. The weather at this side of Mirkwood was milder, but still the snow was falling thick when Dwalin dismounted and knocked on the chieftain's door to ask for shelter. Thorin remained on his horse wrapped in his heavy coat with the hood drawn down over his eyes. When the door opened the recognition was clear on Beorn's eyes. He pulled back allowing Dwalin to come through and his piercing gaze fell on Thorin's stiff bearing as he entered the house. Beorn offered them ample food by the fire and a place to rest. Dwalin took both, Thorin none. He didn't even take off his coat as Dwalin struggled to convince him with endless patience to take a single bite.
Thorin didn't utter a single word for the whole duration of their repose at that house. He slept little and ate nothing. The only moment he got animated was when he asked with an empty voice for some parchment and a quill. He sat in front of Beorn's large table and wrote a few words. He sighed his name and then gave it to Dwalin with strict orders for the ravens to deliver it to Fili.
After that Thorin fell completely silent and darkly unresponsive for the reminder of their journey.
A/N:
* Welcome, Durin's heir.
** It is a good day to kill.
*** Slaves don't make war.
**** Stop!
***************...**************
***************...**************