Darkness. Pain and blood. As Kili laid wounded and trampled in the mud, he knew his end was here. He had some regrets, but if he had to die without making up for them, at least he had fallen honorably defending his uncle. At least with his sacrifice the safety of the newly reclaimed kingdom- and its king- would be ensured. His brother, uncle, and the Company were going to make it through this terrible battle, and the ancient fabled glory of Erebor would return to Middle-earth. He would die a hero, having finally done something great. Kili left the world that day proudly and satisfied.
Passion. Family- and memory. A smile came to Fili from not too long ago, but it felt like eons. Dis, his mother, was waving her last goodbye to her brother and sons. 'Promise you will return safely,' she said with a tear. Back further traveled Fili's weakened mind. There he was, playing warriors with his little brother Kili. Uncle Thorin looked down with a laugh from the chair that seemed so huge and tall. 'You will make fine princes one day,' he said, embracing his nephews. Dis smiled. 'Indeed.' she said. Fili passed returning that smile. They would meet again before the end.
Regret. Mistakes, their consequences. Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, he said bitterly to himself. At least his greed will die with him. So much had been ruined by his selfishness. So many harsh words left his lips that couldn't be undone. And now Thorin was going to leave the world without making up for them. His Company,- no, his family- had been so loyal, so steadfast, even to the point of death. And he had thrown that away in favor of kingship and gold. At the very least he would have liked to apologize to Bilbo his friend before dying...
A huge bear-like shape climbed up Ravenhill, flattening goblins under its feet, making its way to the remnant of Bolg's guard. Beorn lifted up the barely conscious figure of Thorin, killing the remainder of the Orcs in wrath and fury. Giving a shuddering sigh, away into darkness slipped Thorin.
When next he woke, the King was laying in a cot in his enemies' camp. They had not really been foes, but allies searching help that he turned into his foes in madness. Laying helpless in this fashion he learned of his nephews' deaths, and the pain of his wounds grew even sharper. This, this was the end. Just then Gandalf walked in with Bilbo. He said his last words to the Child of the Kindly West.
"If more of us valued food, and cheer, and song," he said putting emphasis on each listed word, "It would be a merrier world... But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell!"
And with that the world dissolved, finally into darkness; and Thorin was reunited with his nephews.
Bilbo wept.
~•~•~•~
Many years later, Bilbo was sitting on his cot in Rivendell, unable to sleep. It was a star-lit night in June, just like the time the Company had been to the valley so many years ago. It was memory, a fading memory of that journey, that kept Bilbo awake. The faces of Thorin, Fili, and Kili seemed to look down on him from the sky as Elvish song was faintly heard from a distance. They need another hero to sing about, thought Bilbo with a grunt. He sleepily hunted for a pen on his cluttered desk and, upon its finding, let the star-lit memory of the Heirs of Durin flow onto his paper, never again to fade.
"Hail journeyers that had traveled far,
Over hill and under tree,
To reclaim their home by the Dragon barred,
Yet undaunted and steadfast they remained!
And the Dragon was slain!
The King came oncemore,
To his halls of golden song!
The Lord of Silver Fountains
Had endured through struggle long!
A fire shone around him,
Glory from the legends of the sun,
But alas! the fire touched him,
And with his pride he was undone.
But when all seemed quite forlorn,
Bleak and hopeless battle raged,
The King under the Mountain
Brought back his courageous way!
His kin, they defended him,
Until the final stroke.
Let us not forget their sacrifice
And the victory their strength awoke!"
~•~•~•~
In a place beyond time, Mr. Baggins hummed that same tune. Even here in the Undying Lands he refused to allow the fading memory to be completely forgotten. There was to be a feast tonight, and a feast in Elvenesse was not something to be missed! Perhaps Bilbo could use this as an opportunity to have the epic tale of the three sung even in Valinor. He abstractly wondered if the voices of the Ainur would be enough to justly portray the courage and loyalty in that story. A tear, likely the only one shed in bliss, rolled down his face.
"You will not be forgotten," he said to the memory.
~•~•~•~