I'm back! Thanks very much to Faron Oakenshield, McKenna079, purple-pygmy-puff16, BrySt1, Miss J Nori, Beatrice3 and Erikawaskiki for your reviews on the last chapter! I'm really sorry about the sad times (they continue), but I'm glad you still thought it was a good chapter! Let me know your thoughts on this one, as always.


They were making their way across the plain, stepping carefully and slowly across and in between the many that had fallen. Amongst the bodies of orcs and goblins, Fili could see the faces of Men, Dwarves and Elves alike, feeling his heart weigh heavy in his chest as he looked at them. They had won the battle with their combined forces, and with the help of the eagles, but so many had lost their lives.

The blond prince had regained consciousness only a few hours ago, toward the very end of the battle. He had seen the eagles swooping in above him, and had helped fight the remaining orcs until the very last of them had fallen. And then they had gathered together, a small group of Dwarves, Men and Elves, to look for survivors while the others were preparing their camp for the treatment of the injured. Fili had refused treatment of his own injuries until he had found his friends and family. Instead, he had gone up to Raven Hill at once, where he knew they had been headed when he lost them. That was where he found Dwalin kneeling over his uncle's body.

Thorin was alive, but barely, and he had been carried down to the healing tents immediately. Fili had watched them carry his uncle away, not enough time to process the pain he was feeling, before he turned to Dwalin, who knew what he was going to ask before he even said anything.

The warrior had pointed in the direction where he had seen Kili disappear and was now leading the way there, the blond dwarf slowly following after him. Fili's gaze was on the ground, careful not to lose his footing on the muddy surface. He only looked up when Dwalin came to a sudden halt in front of him, and he slowly stepped around the burly dwarf to see what it was that had stopped him.

A dead orc lay in the middle of the rocky outcrop before them, its body severed from its head. And a few feet away from it was Arinna, sat motionlessly beside his brother's lifeless form.

Fili felt as though the very ground had been pulled from beneath his feet. His breath left him as he saw the pool of blood that surrounded Kili's body and he moved without knowing, without thinking, stumbling mindlessly forward until he fell to his knees right beside his little brother.

"No!" he sobbed, his hand reaching out to touch Kili's pale face and pulling it back sharply when his fingers connected with his cold skin. He stared for a long moment, disbelieving. Kili's eyes were closed, his body cold. His little brother was dead.

A devastated cry escaped his lips, his eyes filling with sudden, desperate, hot tears as he reached for his brother once more, pulling Kili into his lap as he shook his head, again and again. "No, no, no! Kili! KILI!"

Fili did not notice Dwalin coming to stand by his side, did not see the devastation on the older dwarf's face. He did not notice the group of people that had now gathered somewhere behind them, though they had been searching for survivors with him only minutes before. He only reacted once he felt a hand on his shoulder and saw another reaching for Kili.

"NO, DON'T TOUCH HIM!"

His broken voice echoed over the cliffside, stopping Dwalin in his tracks. He withdrew his hand slowly, giving Fili a sad look.

"He is gone, Fili," he muttered thickly, fighting his own tears. This victory had cost too much. Fili did not look at him, shaking his head as he lightly rocked his little brother's body back and forth as though to comfort him, before his gaze flew up toward the druid, who was still sat completely still opposite him. It was as though he was only now seeing her, and he called her name, his voice raspy and quivering.

"Heal him! HEAL HIM!"

Dwalin watched as the druid blinked at the sound of Fili's desperate shouting, and her eyes slowly turned to him, as though he had ripped her out of some kind of trance. She did not move, however, did not seem to have the strength to do anything at all. Her eyes were dull and red from the tears she had spilled. There were streaks of dried blood and dirt on her face, and the warrior looked down at her hands that were held limply in her lap, stained dark with blood. It took her a long time to reply, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked at Fili with such sadness that it tore Dwalin's heart apart.

"I cannot heal the dead."

Fili stared at her for a long moment, breathing quickly, before he pressed his eyelids shut, silent tears spilling from behind them and down his cheeks. He hugged Kili closer without another word, dropping his head as he cried loudly over his lost brother.


Bilbo was sat outside Thorin's tent on a small bench that had been put there by one of the Elves. He had missed most of the battle. After he had put on his magic ring, he had followed unseen with the soldiers to the battleground. He had brandished his sword and had run with the second charge, though after that he didn't remember much. He had been hit by something from the side, had stumbled, and then hit his head hard on a rock on the ground. His head had still been bleeding slightly when he woke up, though the battle had been over by then.

It was Balin who had found him after he had taken off his ring, wandering over the battlefield by himself. It was Balin who had escorted him to the healing tents and had made sure that his head was tended to, and it was him who had told the hobbit that Thorin was badly injured and that the dwarf-king was asking after him. He had gone with the old dwarf reluctantly, afraid of facing Thorin after his betrayal.

He had stood awkwardly by the entrance of the tent at first, though he had soon realised how grave Thorin's injuries were when he caught sight of the majestic dwarf lying almost motionlessly on a makeshift bed. He had made his way over to him slowly then, while Balin had stepped outside discreetly. Thorin took several moments to notice him, his blue eyes distant, as though he was looking at something far away that Bilbo could not see. And then Thorin's gaze had fallen on the small hobbit – and he had smiled.

"I am glad you are here," Thorin had muttered, his voice unusually quiet as he talked. "I wish to part from you in friendship."

Bilbo had shaken his head, had felt the tears forming in his eyes as he looked at Thorin. It had been hard to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"I would take back my words," Thorin continued softly. "And my deeds at the gate. You did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me… I was too blind to see it. I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril, Bilbo."

"No," Bilbo said, when he finally found his voice, shaking his head again as he had grabbed the dwarf-king's hand. "I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them. It is far more than any Baggins deserves."

Another smile spread over Thorin's tired features and he looked away for a moment, a heavy cough rattling through him, before he brought his gaze back to Bilbo. The hobbit felt him give his hand a small squeeze.

"Farewell, Master Burglar," Thorin muttered kindly. "Go back to your books, and your armchair. Plant your trees and watch them grow… If more people valued cheer and home above hoarded gold, this world would be a merrier place."

And now Bilbo was sat out here in the cold, with Thorin's last words still ringing in his ears. He didn't know how long he had been out here by himself, though his tears had by now run out, his sobs subsided, and there was only an awful emptiness left. He hadn't even noticed that someone had come to sit beside him, though when he finally looked up, he was met with Gandalf's tired but friendly face. The old wizard was stuffing his pipe and Bilbo watched as he lit it and took a few drafts, before Gandalf gave him a sad smile. The wizard was about to say something, when his gaze was caught by something else, and his eyes suddenly grew sadder still.

Bilbo followed his gaze, seeing a small group of people making their way through the camp. It was the party of Elves, Men and Dwarves that had gone out to search for survivors, Bilbo realised. They were carrying someone, and Bilbo recognised Fili among them, lifting one end of the makeshift stretcher they were using. Their faces were solemn, and Bilbo's heart stopped for a moment when he suddenly realised whom it was that they were carrying into camp. He watched with horror as the group brought Kili's lifeless body closer and as they carried him past the healing tents, realising that there was no hope for him, that he was already dead.

He then saw Dwalin following a good distance behind the group, entering the camp with Arinna's hand held firmly in his. She was stumbling after him, her eyes distant as Dwalin gently pulled her along, almost as though she had no will to walk by herself. Bilbo felt another wave of sorrow hit him as the burly dwarf came to a halt right in front of the bench that he and Gandalf were sat on. Dwalin gave them both a small, solemn nod, his gaze drifting toward the entrance of Thorin's tent.

"He has gone," Gandalf informed him quietly, anticipating Dwalin's question. The dwarf inclined his head, his eyes pressing shut for a few moments as he tried to gather his feelings. He had known that Thorin was not going to make it, and so had Thorin. And they had said their goodbyes already, when they had been together on the battlefield. But the pain that clenched Dwalin's heart was still more than the dwarf could handle at the moment. He reached out, gently pulling Arinna – who had not spoken another word since Fili had asked her to heal his brother – toward him. He put one hand on her back, directing her in Gandalf's direction. The old wizard just shot him an understanding look, putting one hand kindly on the druid's shoulders as Dwalin nodded and followed after the others to where they had brought Kili. Gandalf watched him leave, before he directed his concerned gaze toward the dark-haired woman before him.

Arinna stood stiffly, her face and body smeared with blood and dirt. Her gaze was dull and distant, and she did not look at either Gandalf or Bilbo as they stared at her in concern.

"Arinna," Bilbo uttered quietly, his voice sounding croaky after all the crying he had done earlier. "Are you alright?"

The druid didn't answer, didn't even look up at the sound of her friend's voice. Bilbo shot Gandalf a worried look, which the wizard took note of with a small sigh before he got up from his seat, putting out his pipe and stuffing it back into his pocket. He gave Arinna's shoulder a small squeeze, which only made her twitch slightly in reply.

"Come now, dear," the wizard said kindly, glancing down at her injured right arm. "We will get you looked after. Come with me."

He steered her gently and the druid complied without a word as she had done with Dwalin, following mindlessly as he led her to one of the healing tents. Bilbo hesitated for a moment, before he got off the bench and followed after them, unwilling to leave his friend alone in such a state.


Arinna hardly registered anything that was happening to or around her. There had been a strange whirring sound in her ears from the moment that she had watched the sword go through Kili, an image that kept haunting her, returning vividly before her eyes as though she was still there, reliving the same moment over and over again. And then she remembered Fili's face, contorted with sorrow as he cried, hugging his dead baby brother as close as possible. She remembered him asking her, shouting at her, to heal him.

"She seems to be in shock," someone said close by, though Arinna did not recognise the voice. Her gaze was set on her feet, which were dangling from the edge of the pallet that she had been placed on. Or perhaps, someone had asked her to sit down, the druid couldn't remember. Her boots were covered in a mixture of mud and blood, and she studied the dark texture closely.

The Elven healer exchanged a short look over the druid's head with the old wizard who had brought her here, though he merely gave her a nod. There was very little the Elf could do to treat her patient's mind, so instead she turned to the injury on her right arm.

"Some privacy, please," the Elf uttered softly, nodding for the wizard and the hobbit to wait outside. They did as they were told and only once the tent's entrance had closed again behind them, did the She-Elf slowly reach out and began to remove the first layer of armour that covered the druid's body. It was only once the woman's arm was laid bare and the healer began to clean out the wound, that some life suddenly seemed to return to her.

Arinna flinched at the first contact the Elf made with her injury, ripped out of her thoughts by the sudden, sharp bolt of fresh pain. She pulled her arm back harshly and scrambled out of reach as quickly as she could, acting more out of instinct than actual thought.

"It's alright," the tall Elf said, her face kind and reassuring as she looked at the druid's troubled expression. She seemed like some kind of frightened, feral animal, the healer thought, as she put her hands up slightly to show that she had no malicious intent. "I only mean to help."

Arinna was breathing heavily, staring at the stranger before her with wide eyes. Her mind was whirling and she tried to concentrate on the Elf's face, finding some kind of solace in the calm energy she seemed to emanate. The druid looked around the tent, taking a few deep breaths. It was only now that she truly realised where she was, though she wasn't sure who had taken her here. But it hardly mattered. Nothing really mattered now, she thought.

"Please," the Elf spoke again, giving her a reassuring nod as the druid looked up at her once more. She motioned toward her arm. "Let me help you."

Slowly, Arinna shuffled closer again, realising that she did not have the energy to speak, or argue, or to resist. Her arm was injured, she needed healing. That much she knew, that much made sense. So, she decided to go with what little she knew to make sense and remained silent as the Elf got back to work with a small but kind smile.

She flinched a few times as her wound was cleaned out, her hand automatically reaching for her father's necklace to occupy her fingers and her thoughts with something else. Though as she reached for it, her fingers closed around thin air. Her gaze dropped down sharply, her hand suddenly clasping at her neck as she realised that it was no longer there. The healer pulled back upon her frantic movements, worry filling her gaze, when a sudden sob rattled through the druid's whole body, as the realisation settled in her heart. It was gone, she had lost it. So many years she had kept it safe, treasured it. And now the last thing that remained of her father was gone, had been taken from her along with everything else in this war.

"Are you alright?" The Elven healer asked in concern and Arinna shook her head, only now noticing that she was crying loudly. A soft hand came to rest on her shoulder and the druid looked up, still crying when the healer reached out her other arm and pulled her into a gentle hug. The kind gesture was enough to draw even more sobs from the druid, and she inclined her head, crying without saying anything. The Elven woman held her until her tears finally subsided, and only then did she slowly pull back and continue to treat and bandage the injury on her arm.

Arinna wasn't sure how long she had been in that tent when the healer finished up, giving her a soft smile as she looked up at her.

"Thank you," Arinna muttered quietly, her throat feeling croaky and rough, as though she hadn't used her voice in years.