Chapter 7, everyone!

I have finally seen the movie and Battle of the Five Armies surely was a fitting title. I still can't really grasp that it's over, but with the extended edition being released sometime next year, it's not really over yet after all. Yay!

Thanks to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! :)

I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do.

Enjoy!

Chapter 7: Day 2 – Thorin

"Thorin, are you listening to me?"

Thorin nodded, snapping his eyes wide open again. He felt numb and tired, his body still aching. He wet his lips and sent his cousin a half-apologetic look. Daín smiled crookedly.

"Am I that boring?" he said jokingly and Thorin let out a sigh.

"No... do continue."

"Very well." The other Dwarf turned businesslike again. "The Elves arrived this morning with food, fabrics and tools, which are given to the Men to work with. King Bard is still persistent with that his people need their promised gold. He will not part from the Arkenstone until then."

The Arkenstone. His legacy. Thorin let out a pained sigh and clutched his chest as the motion caused him pain. They would make an arrangement when he was more stable; he did not focus now as much as he would've liked to. He let out a strangled sound as he cleared his throat. Daín was patiently waiting.

"What about the Goblin attack?"

Daín looked grim.

"Took us by surprise", he reluctantly admitted and his eyes reflected anger and shame. "We had not expected them to strike when morning arrived. Lost a couple of my men and three of the Lake-Men. Slayed some Goblins as well, but the rest disappeared, though it can't be many of them left now."

Thorin closed his eyes forcefully.

"Gandalf warned us", he murmured tiredly.

"He did, but the Elven scouts yesterday failed to locate the Goblins. By Mahal, the Eagles missed them too."

Daín sounded aggravated and Thorin looked at him. He had not seen his cousin in years, but he looked the same; a wild, black beard, perhaps a little more grey than before; sharp eyes with laughing lines around them even though the hour was grim. His famous axe – the one he had slayed Azog the Defiler with many years ago in a different battle – hung proudly over his back, gleamed sharp and dangerous in the dim light of the very small fire in the middle of the tent. Daín continued and Thorin watched him silently:

"I offered some of my men to aid in the pursuing and I believe Dwalin went with them. The Elf Prince led the group…."

"The King", interrupted Balin as he entered the tent, shaking some snowflakes out of his equally white hair and beard. He bowed to the other two Dwarves. "King Thranduil's in charge of the search party now. Ori just told me. Apparently, he was not pleased with the lack of outposts standing guard around camp."

"Blaming us, no doubt", said Thorin bitterly and adjusted his position on the provisional bed. "I suppose he suggested that he would handle everything better by himself?"

Balin shook his head and gave Thorin a reprimanding look. He seemed tired of it all. Daín's lips twitched, but he did neither agree nor disagree. Thorin leaned back against the pillows, running a hand carefully over his face.

"Anything else?" He peered at the other two with brilliant blue eyes that showed concern. "What about my nephews?"

Balin shook his head sadly and Daín looked uncomfortable.

"Fíli's still the same", Balin informed him in a rueful voice accompanied by a heavy sigh. "Still unconscious. Kíli has been awake for some time now, though he is still in pain. Óin's tending to him now." Balin smiled sadly. "When he's not trying to show his pain, he's constantly asking for Fíli's or your condition. Stubborn lad he is."

"Runs in the family", said Daín and the three of them shared smiles of memories, both bitter and sweet ones.

Thorin remembered another young lad – younger than Kíli – who had determinedly put on a silver helmet over auburn hair. He had grabbed a sword that looked too big for him and had marched right out into battle. Frerin had been stubborn as well. Even with his armor smashed into his chest, puncturing his lungs, Thorin's little brother had been reluctant to die. But in the end he did. Death was inevitable, which made Thorin wonder when his time would come.

The smiled had vanished from Daín and Balin's faces. Thorin himself was frowning, breathing heavily.

"What will we do about the guarding?" he asked. "Do we have enough men to spare to guard the camp?"

"It's a large camp", mused Balin and stroke his long, white beard. "Many are wounded or needed to do other things."

"I say we can manage", was Daín's opinion. His dark eyes were hard. "I can spare some of my remaining warriors and if the Elvenking can do so as well, it should not be a too difficult task."

"What of Lord Bard's people then?"

"They can continue with what they are doing; healing and mending and such. The skills of Men are mediocre in a fight as it is and their senses not as sharp as ours or the Elves."

"I suggest you don't say that to him when you speak to him", said Balin diplomatically and Daín rolled his eyes.

"Do not worry, I won't."

"And what does Thranduil want from us?" continued Thorin and spoke the name with a grimace.

Daín shrugged and Balin looked serious.

"He has been very tight-lipped about it all", admitted Balin and he did not look happy by the fact.

"I have been sitting in various meetings with him", said Daín, "but I cannot get a true impression of him. Cold and polite, I would say, but there just is something quite unsettling about him." The King of the Iron Hills trailed off, only to blink and say in a cheerier voice: "'Course, he is an Elf so there was never much to be expected in the first place."

Thorin smiled weakly at that, but Balin didn't.

"We need to come to some sort of agreement with the two of them, both Bard and Thranduil", he said. "And that quick. We cannot risk this opportunity of a long-lasting alliance to slip through our fingers."

Thorin knew that. He was in an enough state of mind to know when things might fall apart. He felt as if he might do so himself. But with his limited knowledge of the camp and its current inhabitants, he felt at loss at what to do. He hated that.

"What do you suggest we do?" he asked and coughed when his throat felt dry and itchy. It made tears form in his eyes and he stubbornly blinked them away. "If we don't know what the Elf wants, what can we offer him?"

"I would not say that he is the one we need to worry about. What about the gold to Bard?" asked Daín once more. "He is getting impatient. The temper of Men has always been short."

"It needs to be sorted and valued before sharing", Thorin managed to say before he broke out into a new coughing fit. His lungs felt as if they might burst.

"I'll set Glóin and Nori on it immediately, eh?" suggested Balin and watched Thorin worriedly, looking as if he wanted to reach out a reassuring arm, but was unsure if it would be good.

Thorin nodded. Glóin had helped financing the Quest to begin with and there was no other Thorin would trust more than his hot-tempered cousin to start set things right with his grandfather's old treasure. Nori had gone from thief to a highly respected Dwarf, whose loyalty Thorin greatly valued. While Glóin was had the experience of dealing with numbers, a head filled with numbers, Nori had the knowledge of different gems from his shady business around every other Dwarven settlement.

"I could arrange so a couple of my most trusted Dwarrows could accompany them", offered Daín and his eyes gleamed for a moment. "There must be many riches to attend to."

A dark feeling crept up on Thorin's painfully pounding heart. In the back of his mind a voice was screaming 'mine, mine!' and it wouldn't go away even when he tried to ignore it. He squinted at Daín, wondering why he made that offer. Could the thought of gold and riches beyond imagination also be on his mind? Did Daín want it all to himself? As he started to cough again, he tried to get rid of all such thoughts and suspicion.

"Fine", he said through gritted teeth and bent forwards, a firm grip around his midriff.

"Thorin?"

Balin sounded frightened and Thorin realized that there were stains of blood on his sheets and he could taste iron in his mouth. He coughed again and drops of red flew out of his mouth.

"Thorin!"

Balin was at his side in an instant. Thorin coughed again, shivering as the air seemed to have gotten colder. He was dimly aware of Daín leaving the tent calling for a healer. Balin muttered soothing words of nonsense and Thorin felt badly for causing his old friend more wrinkles, more worries. The Dwarf King tried to speak, but his words choked on blood.

Thorin wondered if he was going to die.

So, that was Thorin. Any thoughts?

Next chapter should be up in a week or so.

Thanks for reading!