"His daughter was killed in the battle."

Fíli's breath snagged in his throat and a sound like the dying wind whispered past his lips.

Sigrid, dead.

His beating heart crashed against his chest; pounding, pounding, pounding… His mind was a wasteland but for a ringing silence growing within, obliterated everything except the words.

Sigrid, killed.

His head was an iron weight, his legs but water beneath him and he had to fight the need to collapse onto the ground. He reached blindly for Balin's shoulder.

"Which daughter?"

Fíli's head snapped up at Balin's question.

"His youngest." Replied the guard.

The breath escaped his throat. Intoxicating relief, terrible guilt, and then gut-wrenching sorrow engulfed him. It was Tilda, not Sigrid. Tilda.

He remembered the bright eyed young lass; a youthful reflection of Sigrid and yet another person entirely; just as fierce but seemingly undamaged by the horrors of her world. In her innocent naïveté she had reminded him of Kíli. How could he have rejoiced to hear that Tilda had been the one to die? He remembered hearing her wonder if the dwarves emerging from her toilet would bring her family luck and Fíli was hit with the painful knowledge of how fatally wrong she had been.

But his pain could be nothing compared to Sigrid's.

Coming so close to losing Kíli; the terror, the idea of being separated by insurmountable mortality, the thought of having to say goodbye and then to wake each day and say it again and again... It had almost been too much to bear and he hadn't truly known its toll until those moments by the lake when she had been there to share and sooth his pain. But for Sigrid there would be no relief from the agony; Kíli had lived, Tilda did not.

Balin spoke and Fíli was brought sharply back to earth. "My deepest condolences on behalf of Erebor and my kin. The world has lost one of its sweetest spirits and a great treasure." He patted a hand to Fíli's back. "Come away laddie. There's little we can do here for now." Head bowed Balin turned to inform their company but Fíli stepped forwards.

"Sigrid, how is she?"

The guard looked at the dwarf in confusion. "Who?"

Fíli bristled at his ignorance. "Sigrid. Bard's oldest daughter!"

"I-I don't-." The guard clenched his spear tighter as the dwarf before him seemed to swell with rage.

And before anyone could stop him Fíli was shouting. "Sigrid! She's the daughter of your king, the lady of your people, Tilda was her sister! How can you claim to protect her when you don't even know who she is!" Bofur and Nori had broken rank from the company to hold Fíli back as he made to advance on the guard who looked nervously behind him as two more men stepped to his side, spears at the ready. Passers-by stopped in alarm.

"Why do you want to know about Sigrid?"

Dwarves and men alike looked up in surprise at the sound of the new voice. It belonged to a woman greatly weathered by age who had stopped on her way into the city at the sound of familiar names.

Fíli closed his eyes, calming himself before looking to Bofur and Nori who relinquished him cautiously. "Please," Fíli stepped towards her "I know Sigrid, I know her family. Please tell me how she is?"

The old lady gave him a withering look. "What do you think; they are devastated! But why should you care?"

Fíli wasn't sure how to answer; how much to tell, but when she made to turn away he found the words of his heart already on his tongue and he called out to her retreating back. "I met Sigrid when her family gave us shelter in Laketown. But I knew little of her until after the dragon and after the fires." The woman turned around and he swallowed heavily under the protective scrutiny of her gaze. "The first time I truly spoke to her was when we were by the Lake after the burning and I-I will never forget the look on her face that night; after everything she had seen, all that she had endured she was still so brave and so strong, even when she thought she was breaking." Fíli was so lost in the memory of the look in her eyes that he didn't realise his words had drawn an audience. "I didn't go looking for somebody else that night but when we found each other it was like I had been searching my whole life. And even though we were so different she knew my pain as well as she knew her own and I felt the same. We didn't have to say much, we just sat by the lake and waited for the sun to rise and for the pain to ease, and slowly, with her there, it did. But then I had to leave, and yet in a way Sigrid stayed with me; she was the voice in my head giving me courage, guiding my heart when my head didn't know the way. So I'm asking you to tell me how she is because I need to know, I need to know so that I can find her and offer her some of the comfort she gave me, to be there for her even if there is nothing I can do." There was shocked muttering at the unbridled sentiment of his words from the crowd of dwarves and men but Fíli didn't care, he ignored them and looked imploringly at the old woman and saw her eyes soften.

"I know the strength that you speak of." She murmured, looking away towards the castle walls. "She's been that way all 'er life but I never saw it stronger than when I placed Tilda in 'er arms for the first time after their Mam passed. It was like she found a new purpose and from then on she cared for wee Tilda and Bain better than she did for 'erself." The woman turned back to Fíli, her eyes filling with sadness. "But now..." She sighed. "Bard has locked himself away and Bain has done much like his father, but darling Sigrid is locked away by 'er grief. She doesn't speak to anyone but walks the halls as if she was a ghost. Ay, for the first few days she tried to keep going; she went to the halls of healing and tried to help but I think that every broken body she saw was 'er sister and she just couldn't take it." She wiped a tear from her eyes. "I was there when they laid precious Tilda to rest next to 'er mother. I think that all her life Sigrid had to be the strong, oh they were all strong and perhaps Bard 'as always been the face of that strength but Sigrid; that girl was the backbone and her siblings the lifeblood. I don't think anyone is made to withstand such loss." The woman brushed away at more tears.

Fíli laid a cautiously comforting hand on hers. "They are truly blessed to have one who cares for them so I'm truly sorry for your loss and pain it brings you. Please, can you take me to her?"

The woman nodded but the guard cleared his throat and she rounded on him. "For goodness sakes, let him go to 'er. When did protocol become more important than comforting them that are suffering?"

The guards looked for a moment as if they might protest but quelled under the furious glares of the woman and the company of dwarves behind her.

Balin stepped forwards again. Many might have though the Balin, who had seen much sorrow in the long years of his life, would be used to the tragedies of the world, however those who knew him understood that his generous heart would not allow it to be so. Fíli met his eyes and saw their concern. "Fíli lad, are you sure this is wise?"

"I have to go Balin, I can't do nothing."

Balin nodded, understanding. "And we shall make camp outside the walls until we are needed." He turned to the woman. "Thank you for taking our lad, may I ask your name?"

"Eira. But save your thanks, I do this more for them than for him." She turned to Fíli. "You best cover your face; there are those who still see your kind as an enemy."

Fíli lifted the hood of his blue cloak over his head, tucking the arrow at his throat behind his shirt for good measure and then followed the beckoning woman through the gates of Dale.

There was a sombre misery that seeped into the bones of the city. All was quiet except for the echoing of hammer meeting stone somewhere in the distance. People were few and far between and those they passed did not meet their eyes but kept to their own task.

"Without our king we 'ave had to guide ourselves through much of the repairs." Eira explained as they stepped over debris.

Fíli help out an arm to assist her over. "They do not resent Bard for that?" he asked curiously.

Eira looked at him sharply. "Would you resent a man who shot down a dragon to saved your life lead your people to victory in battle only to lose his beloved daughter?"

"Not at all."

"Our people 'ave lost their homes and their loved ones master dwarf, suffering and grief are not a weakness for us; they are a way of life."

"Perhaps it is your endurance that is a way of life?" Fíli suggested as the crossed beneath a decaying archway.

"Perhaps. But we will stand by our king in his grief and when he is ready we he will be a better king for it."

They didn't speak again until they reached a flight of stairs that lead up to the walkway atop the city wall.

Eira pointed. "You'll find her at the top. It's the only place that you can see the place where we buried Tilda."

Fíli clasped his hand her wizened hands. "Thank you Eira."

The woman smiled sadly. "Just help guide 'er back to us, that's all I ask." Then she turned and moved back along the winding alleyways of Dale.

Fíli saw her as soon as he assailed the last step and he felt his heart crash into his rib cage; she made broken look so heartbreakingly beautiful.

Sigrid sat precariously on the edge of the city wall, her hair hanging limply down her back, legs drawn to her chest while her unseeing eyes looked across the land between Dale and the Long Lake.

He stepped forwards and slowly lowered the blue hood of his cloak, not wanting to make any sudden movements and startle her. But Sigrid did not look up; she was indeed locked in her own world.

"Sigird."

When she turned and her eyes locked onto his Fíli knew what it was to look upon the eyes of the dead set in the face of the living. There was no surprise, no confusion, just the recognition of another presence atop the wall before she turned her head back towards the barren lands.

Fíli took another step forwards. "Sigrid, I'm so sorry about Tilda. If there is anything I can say or anything I can d-"

"I need you to leave and never come back." Sigrid's impassive voice cut through his words.

He faltered. "Sigrid, I-".

"Tilda died because of you." Her voice quivered.

His heart plummeted. Of course she blamed the dwarves and she had every right to; as he had said that night on the lake; they had been the ones to bring the dragon fire upon her family. Now the dwarves had brought war to them again and her sister along with many others had paid the ultimate price. It was too late to say sorry, too late to ask for forgiveness or offer to repent for what was done, it wouldn't change anything.

But Fíli didn't move; he couldn't bring himself to leave her like this and when he didn't leave Sigrid swung her legs over the ledge and dropped onto the ground before him. Her eyes where no longer hollow shells of a soul, this time when she looked at him they were alight with terrible pain and furious anger.

"If it wasn't for you my sister would be alive." She said again, and before he could say anything she was shouting, screaming in rage and pain as she stepped towards him. "Tilda would still be alive if it wasn't for you! If you hadn't come into my life she wouldn't be dead! It's all your fault! All your fault!" she reached him and feeling herself fall apart she made to push him away but his hands captured her wrists and held on tightly, wrestling with her until she simply couldn't push away her heart anymore and she collapsed into his chest, sobbing.

"Why?" she cried. "Why do you always find me when I'm broken?" she pulled back to look into his eyes, tears still streaming down her face, begging him to give her an answer in a world that seemed to have lost all logic and reason.

Fíli pulled her close and pressed his lips to her forehead. He would have given anything he could to take away her pain; if he could cast it aside or claim it as his own he would do it. She closed her eyes, tears leaking from beneath her eyelashes as he whispered to her. "So I can help you put yourself back together again, the same way you showed me."

Sobs racked her body and Fíli held her tighter trying to absorb her trembling. He had never felt more helpless, not even as he watched his uncle descend into madness. Thorin had seemed unreachable then but now Sigrid was there in his arms, utterly broken and yet there was nothing he could do but hold her and listen to the words she said quietly through her sobs.

Sigrid did not say the words to him, in truth she never had. She did not blame him. She whispered them to herself, saying the words that had tormented her mind ever since she had walked into the cave; "It's all your fault. It's all your fault. It's all your fault."

Fíli let the words hit him, each a blow more painful than his fall and he let it and let it and let it…. until he couldn't make her say them again. He stepped away.

"I'll go." He says, watching the tears mark their path down her beautiful face, longing to reach out a finger and brush them away. "If that's what you truly want right now I'll go, but when you need somebody I'll be here. I won't leave you."

In her battered heart Sigrid wanted to tell him to stay, that she didn't want him to go, not really. But all she could see before her was a reminder of the choice she hadn't realised she was making; between Tilda and Fíli. And so she said nothing as he stepped backwards, she said nothing as he turned one last time at the top of the stairs, his blue eyes desperately reaching for what she could not say.

Fíli turned one last time to see her, silently begging her to say something; to tell him there was something he could do, any way he could repent for what they had taken from her. But Sigrid didn't speak and he had to tear his eyes from hers and walk away. He knew that she might never be able to see past her blame and he couldn't hold that against her. And as he descended the stairs he realized that he had lost his heart forever to this girl, this girl whose own heart was too broken to give.

Fíli walked the streets of Dale in a daze, not caring if the people knew he was there, not noticing the looks of animosity on the faces he passed.

He came to one of the city's fallen walls where the men and women toiled together lifting stones and putting them back into place. Without a word he shed his cloak and stepped forwards to catch a stone before it fell out of a young boy's hands.

The boy looked at him and smiled in thanks and Fíli felt a pang in his chest; the boy had the same bright eyed look as Tilda, but then again, he thought, most children had that look before this cruel world stole it away.

Fíli followed the child to where they were passing stones along a line and joined them. These people didn't seem to notice what he was, they were just grateful for another set of hands. Nobody here cared that his kin had brought them so much suffering because one look on his face told them that he suffered as much as they did. And so Fíli worked to silence his mind, and the sound of hammers clashing with stone and metal chased the words around his head;

It's all your fault. It's all your fault. It's all your fault.

While somewhere high above and on the other side of the city, Sigrid sat atop a wall whispering those same words to herself, wishing with all her heart that they weren't true.

AN:

Let me know what you thought, all feedback is welcome! Apologies for any typos that slipped through.