« Gold... Gold beyond measure... Beyond sorrow and grief... »
Thorin was standing in the great halls of Erebor, surrounded by his ancestor's treasures. Mountains of gold and jewels, and no more dragon. Smaug was dead, forever dead. Nothing stood between the Dwarves and their treasure anymore. Thorin sighed contentedly, and smiled as he watched Thrain's gold at his feet.
This is all ours again, at last !
After a while, he saw from the corner of his eyes that something was moving on the upper levels. He looked up and saw several silhouettes standing above him. Dimly, he recognized Fili and Kili. He looked up at them. It stirred something in him. They're alive. We all thought they had burned alongside with all the other inhabitants of LakeTown, but they are alive, and here they are standing. He should have rejoiced, but then his eyes saw the gold again and suddenly it was all he could
think about.
« Behold, the mighty treasure hoard of Thror » He said, opening his arms to invite them to contemplate what was surrounding them. « Welcome, my sister-sons... to the kingdom of Erebor ! »
He saw them move. He heard voices. He picked up one of the gems at his feet – a big, red ruby – and threw it at Fili His eldest nephew deftly caught it, but he said no word. Thorin had expected to see some enthusiasm coming from them, but they just climbed down a few stairs, with serious faces. Why so grave, young nephews ? Thorin wnated to ask them. Did they not see all the gold ? Dis they not understand that Erebor had been reclaimed ? What had happened to them ?
He saw Fili and Kili exchange worried looks, then Bilbo said something to them. Their mutters echoed between the high walls of stone.
« Come down. » He said in an urgent voice. He wanted them to discover the treasure their ancestors had gathered over centuries.
Yet both young Dwarves and Bilbo just stood there and watcheed him, their faces disapproving. It made Thorin angry. He turned his back on them and walked away, to another room filled with gold and jewels. Let them brood and waste their days with useless worries, while Thorin enjoyed their new wealth and glory. He knelt and plunged his hand into a sea of golden coins they were cold against his skin, but it was a pleasant sensation. Then he closed his eyes and sighed in relief. After so many years craving to be back home, here he was a last.
The wealth of Erebor was his again, and would be his for the rest of his life.
And nothing else mattered.
« You were always my king... » Dwalin said, his eyes glistening with contained emotion. Seeing his friend and king like that was a suffering beyond anything he had endured so far. « You used to know that once. » He paused. Thorin looked down, but there was greed in his eyes as they fall on the heaps of gold all around them. « You cannot see what you have become. » Dwalin added, in a last desperate attempte to reach the Thorin ha had known and loved as a brother all his life. Was he truly dead and lost forever, or was there still a spark of him, lost somewhere in the abyss of the gold sickness ? Could the old Thorin still hear, and see ? Would he ever be able to come back ?
Contradicting emotions fglickered over Thorin's face, and for a while Dwalin thought it was his friend who would answer.
Yet Thorin's words broke his heart instead.
« Go, now. » He said, his voice hoarse with resentment. « Go... Before I kill you. »
Dwalin's hands clenched into fists as anger and despair and frustration washed over him, but he said nothing. He had understood it was useless. He turned around and walked away, his broad shoulders hunched by the weight of his best friend's madness.
Once he was gone, Thorin took a deep breath.
Who does he think he is, to tell me what I can and can't do ? I am his king ! He shouldn't be allowed to talk to me like that !
Thorin closed his eyes, then he opened them and saw the gold. It soothed his troubled mind, and put his worried at ease. No matter how wrong everything will be going, my gold's here. No one will ever take it from me. No one.
He picked up a coin, and pressed it against his heart.
Yet somehow, he couldn't forget about Dwalin's words. They echoed painfully in his head, refusing to let him enjoy his treasures as he wanted to. They triggered something in him – old feelings – and for a fleeting moment The King of Durin's folk was teetering at the verge of utter madness : either he would sink completely, or he would find the strength to extricate himelf of it. Suddenly he saw what Dwalin had seen in him, he saw what he had become, and he was aware of that choice he had to make. Drowning would be easy. Fighting would be harder – and was it truly worth it ? What if he decided to fight ? What good would come out of it ? Grief and pain and blood ? War ? Hordes of Orc outside of his gates, ready to kill him ? He closed his eyes, troubled as he had never been before. Let's forget about everything, a voice in his head suggested. Forget about the world. Forget about grief and sorrow. Forget about everything.
Look at the gold, and rejoice.
He was about to break all ties with the last remnants of his sanity, when suddenly his hand reached for the tiny pendant in his pocket. It was cold and smooth, and as dark as a crown's wings. Polished onyx.
« Laurelin... » He breathed, and suddenly the woman's picture appeared in his head. Her pretty freckled face, and her long brown hair, and her big doe eyes that shone with mirth everytime she laughed. Something Thorin hadn't felt in a very long time came back to life. Something that made him feel warm from the inside. Suddenly the gold arounf him wasn't as shiny and alluring anymore. It was just metal, after all. Cold and lifeless metal. There were other things. Friendship. Kindenss. Human contact. Love.
He closed his eyes and shook his head, and suddenly he felt he could not endure any of this one more second.
He ran, as if his life depended on it – and maybe it did.
He ran till he reached the hall, and saw his own reflection in the gold-covered floor. He remembered Msaug, and how thay had meant to kill him with gold. They had failed, of course, but it didn't matter since the dragon was dead anyways.
He dead, just as dead as you will be if you decide to shut yourself down in these dark halls with your gold.
And he didn't want to die.
And couldn't die.
He had made a promise to the woman he loved. He had promised her to return to her. He couldn't fail her. Not now, not ever.
He had to stay alive to see her again, and to know if she loved him too.
He closed his eyes again and breathed in a long gulp of air.
Suddenly, his thoughts and his mind were clearer as htey had been in a verylong time.
I can't die. I can't drown in gold sickness.I have no other choice but to struggle out of this. It will be hard – but I am Durin's heir and I am afraid of nothing.
A roar struggled to come out of his throat as he stood up straight again.
« I'm not my grand-father... » he said out loud, and suddenly he felt as is he could breathe freely again. He closed his fingers around the small pendant, thinking about Laurelin, longing to see and touch her again.
I am not going to drown.
I am going to win, and to live.
He walked out of the hall, to find his companions. He found them all huddled together among the ruin and wreckage left by the dragon. For the first time, he saw them clearly again. He saw how worried they were. He saw the lines on their faces, the grief and sadness in their eyes. He knew he had caused all this grief and sadness. He knew he had made them all suffer.
But he wouldn't apologize, he decided. His pride wouldn't let him. He would do better than that. He would be a king for them – a king they could be proud of. A king they could love. A king that would make them enter into legend.
Kili was the first to break the ranks. He stood up to Thorin. He had always been a bit reckless, but he had never spoken to Thorin with such anger. But the King couldn't blame him, because of course the lad was right. Thorin smiled at him, overcome by a sudden wave of tenderness and affection for this young Dwarf he had helped to raise. He took his face into his hands, and their foreheads touched for a few moments.
Then he turned to the others. He spotted Fili, standing so tall and proud. A true prince of Erebor. Thorin had never been so proud of him.
« I have no right to ask this of any of you, but... Will you follow me, one last time ? » He watched them all, one after the other, trying to decipher their thoughts and feelings. Slowly, he saw doubt and wariness being replaced by determination and fierceness. Hope shone in their eyes aga in as they grabbed their weapons and donned their armours. Thorin felt a shiver of excitement run back his spine. Durin's folk was back in the game, now.
A few moments later, as they were about to run into battle, Thorin stopped for a few seconds and tried to image what awaited them out there : Orcs and Wargs, Elves and Men, and Mahal knows what other foul creatures brought by Azog. He shivered again, and – for the first time since he was clear-headed again – the idea that he might die very soon hit him like an arrow straight in the heart. Death could be so quick. One moment you breathe, the next you're no more than a corpse on the ground. He felt his blood turn to ice. He could not die, not now, not before seeing Laurelin again. Yet he was not an idiot, either, and he knew it could happen no matter how determined he was to stay alive. He searched his company for Dwalin, and found his old friend standing at the bottom of the wall, on his left.
Thorin took a deep breath to give himself courage, then he walked over to the other Dwarf.
« Dwalin ? » He said, a bit uncertainly. He was not sure how to act around his friend, after what they had said to each other last time they had been in the same room. « We need to talk... if you don't mind ? »
Dwalin watched him intently for a few moments, then a smile broke on his rugged face.
« I will always be there for you... my King. » he said.
« Right now I'm not talking to you as a King, but as a friend. I... » He paused, listening to the screeches and screams of the Orcs outside, in the distance. « Dwalin, we don't know what will happen to us after we've broken out of these walls. We may... »
« I would die rather than letting anybody kill you. » Dwalin replied fiercely loyalty, looking his friend straight into the eyes. Dwalin's battle ax was huge, and the blade was as sharp as the claws od Death itself. It shone in the dim light.
« I do not doubt your loyalty, nor your courage. » Thorin said, looking back at his friend and wondering if they would see each other after the battle. They had shared so many hardships, but also so many good moments. Suddenly Thorin felt his throat tighten. « But you may not be able to stay at my side during the battle. And if... if I don't survive, Dwalin, I want you to do something for me. » Dwalin nodded, and listened raptly. « If I die during this battle, I want you to find Laurelin and tell her how much I... » He hesitated, because he had never said those words aloud. « Tell her how much I loved her. » He said at last, and he realized how easy it was to say this. He smiled, in spite of the dramatic situation. « If I die during the battle, please keep an eye on her. Help her if need be. Don't let her alone, and make sure she had a good life. »
Dwalin nodded slowly, very solemnly.
« I will do whatever I can for her, and so will Balin. He's had a soft spot for her ever since she worked for him. »
« Make sure, also, that no other man ever shares her life, please. » He added in a tormented voice « Make sure she will never belong to anybody else but me. » The mere idea of seeing Laurelin in another man's arms was making him mad with grief and anger. She had to be Thorin's, and only Thorin's – now and forever. Something else was not conceivable. « I... The idea of dying here, so far from her, without ever seeing again... Without her knowing what I truly feel for her... It's unbearable, Dwalin. But if Mahal decides it's time for me to join his halls then I will have no other choice but to answer to his call. »
« If I survive and you don't – and I pray Mahal this won't happen - will see that Laurelin has everything she needs. » Dwalin said, nodding again. Then a fierce smile stretched his lips. « But let's stop talking about death, now. There's a horde of Orcs out there waiting for us to chop off their heads, so let's give them what they deserve ! »
He swung his ax and roared with a fierce laughter. Dwalin the warrior was eager and impatient to spill Orc-blood.
At some time, Thorin would have been just as impatient as his friend. He would have rushed into battle without thinking about anything else – without caring for his own life. But now everything was different. Now there was Laurelin, and suddenly he saw everything in a very different way. He started wondering if it had not been better to saty at her side, in the Blue Mountains, were they could have been safe together. What foolishness had taken him, to go on this quest ? What this gold really worth risking all his dreams, all his hopes ?
No, it isn't. A small voice replied. But it's too late now to change anything, and you have no other choice now but to fight.
« Sorry, Laurelin. » he muttered, before calling his fellow Dwarves at his side for the final attack that would change the fate of their people.
When Bombur blew the horn, Thorin shivered from head to toe – but not out of fear, no. It was eagerness. Now the time had come to met his fate at last. He let the sound fill his ears, fill his head, fill his thoughts till his blood was boiling with adrenaline. Then the huge golden bell swung forwards, and crashed into the high wall they had built several days earlier it exploded into thousands of shards of stone that flew in the air before falling on the ground, making the earth tremble.
And then they ran.
A long roar came out of Thorin's throat as he felt the fresh air on his face and saw the light of the sun for the first time in several days. He felt alive, truly alive, and as fierce as a bear. He would kill them, kill them all – those nasty Orcs who stood between him and the life with Laurelin he desired so badly. His hand would not hesitate. It would cut and slash and kill.
Thorin met Dain with a roar of fierce laughter he had never been so glad to see his cousin, proud and fierce and covered in Orc-blood. His boar had been killed during the battle, but Dain himself was still unhurt, and ready to keep fighting.
« There's too many of them. » Daïn said, looking around at the hundreds of ennemies swarming all around them. « I hope you've got a plan ? »
Thorin looked up at Ravenhil, where Azog was standing tall and fierce against the grey sky.
« I'm going to take off their leader. » He said, more determined than ever.
« Azog. » Daïn saif approvingly.
Thorin grabbed the reins of the closest battle goat, and climbed on its back.
« I'm going to kill that pice of filth. » He spat, and he kicked the goat in the ribs. Behind him, Dwalin was following on a goat of his own, and very soon Fili and Kili joined him as well. Thorin smiled. His most loyal and most trusted warriors. Fighting alongside with them would give him even more strength, even more courage.
They swiflty climbed the steep slope of Ravenhill the goats were agile and sure-footed, and not once did they hooves slip on the sharp-edged rocks. Soon they reached the top of the hill, and found it empty. No sign of Azog or his Orcs. They unsheathed their swords and stared at the bare rocks, at the veil of cold mist that chilled them to their bones. Everything was absolutely silent around them.
« He fled ! » Dwaling grumbled angrily. « Thorin, that filth of Azog fled ! »
« Or maybe he's just biding his time. » Thorin whispered, searching the veil of white fog for something that could betray the presence of enemies.
They all exchanged nervous looks.
When htey heard fottsteps coming from behind them, they all turned around swiftly, just to be faced with... the Hobbit !
« B... Bilbo ? » Thorin muttered, unable to believe what he was seeing. The last time he had faced Bilbo, he had been wallowing deep in his gold sickness he had almost thrown the Hobbit over the walls of Erebor, and he had seen him fell with Bard and Thranduil. A wave of guilt washed over Thorin, but he refused to give in to these negative feelings. There would be plenty of time to apologize or to make amends later, once all this was finished.
« Thorin ! » Bilbo said as reached the King of the Dwarves. He was red and breathless. Obviously, he had been running. « Thorin, there's another army coming from Gundabad. Orcs, and other creatures. They will be here any moment. »
Dwalin cursed somewhere on Thorin's left.
Azog, you cowardly filth – so you want to win this battle by using treachery and foul tricks, now ? Do you think this will be enough to keep you from my wrath ?
Part of Thorin wanted to give in to his deep desire to search for Azog in spite of everything, and to be done with it once and for good – but then he looked at the others. Fili and Kili, standing side by side. Dwalin, still clutching his battle ax. Bilbo, who used to be a shy and awkward creature, but who had been brave as a lion today, when he had faced Azog's armies to come here and warn them about this new danger. They were all looking up at Thorin, iating for him to take the right decision.
I have disappointed them once, when I had allowed the gold sickness to engulf my mind. I can't disappoint them one more time.
« Let's get down to help Daïn and the other Dwarves. » He decided finally. « They must be warned, and they will need every one of us. »
They caught their goats once more, but before they could even jump on their backs they suddenly heard screams coming from downhill they could see nothing because of the fog, but no mistake was possible.
« Orcs ! » Dwalin bellowed. « Orcs are coming ! »
Next moment, the Orcs unleashed their fury upon them. Thorin didn't even have time to count them, all he saw was that there were many of them. They wore armours and barbaric weapons, and they were screaming like a horde of demons from hell.
Thorin swung his sword and hit the first beast he could reach. They were strong and powerful, and each of their blows could have cut a man in two Thorin knew that any mistake, even the smallest, could mean the end of his life. He managed to kill one Orc, but two others replaced him at once. They were like an endless stream of enemies. From the corner of his eyes, he saw his friends nearby : Fili and Kili were fighting side by side, young and relentless and fierce Dwalin was killing one Orc after the other with his blood-stained ax even Bilbo, tiny Bilbo, was doing his best to fight the Orcs. He was no warrior – he had neither the physical built nor the necessary training – yet he didn't hide, and he didn't run. Thorin couldn't have dreamt of better companions.
More Orcs kept coming. Slowly, Thorin and their friends got separated as they fought, each moving into another direction. Thorin didn't like it. He couldn't help worrying for Fili and Kili – his beloved nephews, the little boys had had helped to raise, the young heirs of Durin – what if they were dead alreay ? What if their broken bodies were laying on the hard ground, getting colder with every passing minute ? What if they were all doomed ?
Then he saw Laurelin in his head, once more, and he realized he couldn't die. It was impossible. He had to go back to her.
This thought gave him a surge of energy, and he lunged forwards. He shoved his blade into the small opening between the Orcs breastplate and his backplate, and when he pulled it out again it was dripping with thick, black blood.
After a while, Thorin ended up on a wide, frozen lake that stretched to the horizon in front of him. The ice was thick enough to support their weight, even as they fought so violently, yet it was slippery and treacherous. Even the familiar movements were a challenge, but the good point was that it bothered the Orcs just as much as it bothered Thorin.
When all the Orcs were dead, Thorin heaved a deep sigh. He was exhausted and wounded – a deep gash across his brow was bleeding abundantly. His hands were trembling, and he wasn't even sure he had enough strengths to walk back to the others – but he knew he had to. Fili and Kili. He had to see if his nephews were still alive. He prayed Mahal as he walked, one heavy step after the other. Even lifting his feet was an effort for him.
He had almost reached the shores of the lake – and he was eager to have his feet on solid ground again – when suddenly a gigantic pale silhouette stood in front of him.
Azog.
Oh no, not now, please Mahal not now...
The filth had waited in the shadows on purpose, waited till Thorin was too exhausted and breathless to offer a proper fight.
A curse escaped Thorin's lips, but he would not give up without fighting tooth and nail for his life. He lifted his sword.
« Come here. » He muttered. « Let's do this once and for good. »
And then they fought.
It was a fight like Middle-Earth had not seen in a long time the beast and the King facing each other on the ice, Thorin looking small an d derisory in comparison to the monster standing in front of him. Azog was a mountain of muscle and cruelty, a dark sould who knew neither pity, nor compassion. He fought with utter brutality, and Thorin – tired and hurt as he already was – could do nothing but ward off his powerful blows. He knew he wouldn't be able to continue like that forever. He felt his own strengths declining at an alarming rate. He knew the moment he wouldn't have any strengths left in him, he would be dead – yet there was nothing he could do about,it. His body was spent, almost broken.
And the others – what about the others ? he wondered as he blocked another one of Azog's blows. Fili and Kili and Dwalin... and all the others who were still fighting down there... all these proud Dwarves... all these loyal companions...
All dead ?
And Laurelin ? He suddenly wondered. Will she cry for me when they will tell her my fate ? Will she mourn me ? How many years will she remember me before I will be forgotten ? And what will be left of me, then ? Dust and ashes ? Old faded memories ? Will she still remember what my face looked like, the day she will join Mahal, or will I be no more than a distant, blurry shade in a remote corner of
her memory ?
The idea that he would die before even telling her about his feelings was terrifying.
He saw her in his head, as clearl as if she had been standing in front of him. She smiled at him. Her hair was unbound, and it hung down her back to her hips, as soft as silk. Thorin yearned to touch it, but next moment Azog landed a powerful blow on his back, that sent him sprawling on the icy cold suface of the lake. He heard an audible crack coming from the ice, and he knew it might break soon.
« You promised you would come back to me. » Laurelin's voice whispered into his ears. Thorin didn't know if it was his imagination – maybe he wanted to see her so badly that he started seeing things that weren't real – or if she was truly watching over him like a guardian angel, but her voice galvanised him as if he had been struck by a lightning bolt. Gathering his last strengths, he lifted his sword and hit he knew he would not get a second chance – he is exhausted body would not allow it – so he put all his might, all his determination into this blow. He hit Azog in the legs. The blade cut into the pale flesh, not deeply enough to inflict a severe wound, but the white Orc lost his balance and fell on the ground, so hard the ice cracked under his weight.
It's now or never, now, Thorin realized. He hit the ice with the hilt of his sword, and was rewarded by more threatening cracks – and then he ran away before he would get caught into his own trap. When he was at a safe distance, he turned around to watch his enemy struggle with the ice, but Azog just got up as if nothing had happened.
I didn't hit the ice hard enough. Thorin thoufht frantically. I had once chance, and I missed it. By Mahal's beard, I missed it.
Azog's ugly laughter echoed in the cold air. Thorin shivered.
And then the ice broke at last. It happened so quickly Azog didn't even have time to struggle. One moment he had been standing there, and next moment he was gone, engulfed by the cold water. For a long moment, Thorin expected him to jump out of the water again – it was almost too good to be true – but after several minutes he realized Azog was probably dead for good. He took a few careful steps that brought him closer to the place where the beast had drowned. Chunks of ice were floating on the water, but otherwise everything was silent and motionless.
A feeling of joy rose in Thorin, so powerful it made his already week legs tremble even more.
Azog is dead.
I won.
Several hours later, when they had all regained some strenghts, they clambered down the steep slopes of Ravenhill again. Thorin, Bilbo, Dwalin, Fili and Kili were greeted by the rest of the company Nori had a cut in his left arm, and Bombur was bruised all over the left half of his face, but all of them were alive. Thorin felt tears prickle his eyes. This was too good to be true.
Mahal, I will forever be grateful for your kindness. He prayed silently.
They ended this quest as they had started it : together. The healthy ones were supporting the wounded, and when they entered the high halls of Erebor they were all overcome by a strong flow of emotions. Each of them expressed it in a different way, of course, and even Bilbo – to whom Erebor meant nothing – couldn't help but feel his heart twinge with happiness. He looked at Thorin, and they shared a long look.
Aye, we made it.
They had won, and a new life awaited them now.
A better life.
He couldn't wait till Laurelin would join him here. Then everything would be truly
perfect at last.