Author's Note: I'm not in a creative author's note mood.

Chapter 38-The Tents of the Wounded

A warm, yellow glow.

The sound of hushed voices.

The faint smell of oil and wax.

Karra opened her eyes and saw faded brown fabric above her. She turned her head, and her face felt oddly stiff. Forcing herself to raise her hand and touch her cheek, she felt—was it fabric? A bandage? She tried to roll onto her side, and felt a stab of pain. The tent came slowly into focus, and she saw hundreds of others laying on cots like her own, some unconscious, some in pain, some laying peacefully, their eyes closed. Among the rows of cots, women moved softly, tending to wounds and changing bandages.

She heard a light footstep, and saw a girl, just a bit younger than her, approaching. She wore a white apron and carried a bottle in one hand, and a roll of bandages in the other. Karra struggled to sit up.

"Lie still," the girl said, with an encouraging smile. "You don't need to stand in the presence of your nurse."

Karra slumped back onto her pillow. She felt the side of her dress being lifted, and a slight pressure on her side as the girl ran her fingers over the bandage that covered the deep wound. "Lie still," the girl said again. "I'm going to have a look at this." Karra felt an odd sensation, and then pain shot through her side again. She let out a small cry.

"This will only take a few moments," the girl said, her voice soft and low, and Karra squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to cry out again as the girl rubbed something cold and wet into the wound. A cool sensation spread over her side, and the pain lessened. She sighed, her tensed muscles relaxed. She heard the girl's voice as if in a haze beside her, saying something about checking something else…

As she felt the bandage on the side of her face being peeled away, she tensed, but this time she felt no pain, only a slight tingle.

"You'll likely have a scar from this," the girl was saying. "You say it doesn't hurt to talk?"

Did I say that? "Well…no, it doesn't. It's just a little stiff." Karra turned, and saw the girl's face next to her own. "What day is it?"

The girl laughed. "It's today," she said. "You'll have to ask someone else how long you've slept, because I'm sure I don't know."

"How soon can I leave?" She almost dreaded the answer; the thought of being confined here, in this tent full of suffering, for who knows how long, made her shudder.

The girl leaned closer and gave Karra little secret smile. "Don't tell my mother," she whispered, "you're not supposed to get up yet. But as you seem to have walked all the way across the battlefield on your own, you can try if you want." Karra rolled over with a groan and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. The sharp pain in her side had lessened to a dull ache. "I know how you feel," the girl said. "I couldn't bear being confined in my bed for days."

Karra gulped. "Days?" she said. "Is that even a possibility?"

"For anyone else, I'm sure it would be. But the way you seem to be healing, you could be out tomorrow if it pleases you! Are you a dwarf?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Dwarves are hearty and known to heal quickly," the girl said. Her eyes twinkling, she fluffed Karra's hair. "You certainly have enough hair."

Karra found herself smiling. "You don't know how many times people have commented on my hair," she said. "Yeah, I'm a dwarf. Well…" She bit her lip. "I'm…" There was something about this girl she felt she could trust, so she lowered her voice and said, "I'm only half dwarf."

"You're—what?"

"My mother was of the race of men."

"A half-dwarf!" the girl exclaimed. "I didn't know they exist!"

"They don't." Karra shifted her weight to her feet. "At least, they didn't before I—" Her legs collapsed beneath her, and she found herself sitting back on the bed, the girl's arms supporting her, breathing hard.

"That was unsuccessful." The girl's laugh held something contagious about it, and Karra found herself laughing with her. "Please, I beg you, do not tell my mother." She stood. "You obviously need rest, so," she snapped her fingers, "lay down and sleep, young lady."

Karra wormed herself under the covers. "I'd say you're the young lady," she said. And with a laugh, the girl was gone. Karra closed her eyes and tried to obey orders. She rolled over stiffly. Her eyes opened again and she stared at the ceiling, trying to form a coherent memory of the last few days. Everything was so muddled still—maybe it would always be muddled, maybe she would never quite remember this time as she should.

She heard the sound of a soft footstep, and turned to see a small figure padding through the tent, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. He turned, and his eyes met hers.

"Bilbo!"

"Karra! You're alive." Though clearly happy, his voice held no excitement. She slid her feet over the edge of the bed, and patted the empty spot beside her.

"Come here. I need to know what's going on."

Bilbo sat silently for a moment, his head bowed. "Fili is alive," he said. "And so is Kili."

Karra felt a little smile creeping up on her. "I know."

"We were victorious," he said. "We won, the orcs are gone now." His voice was flat and held no triumph. Karra saw a vague emptiness in the hobbit's eyes. She patted him on the shoulder.

If you can call this victory.

"He died on the battlefield—I saw him." Bilbo finally spoke, his voice low, almost imperceptible. "I sat by him in his last moments. I saw him die."

Karra had to bite her lip to keep from asking who? She sat still, playing with the side of her dress, desperate worry and curiosity nearly overwhelming her. She gave him another awkward pat on the shoulder and looked away. Moment to moment seemed an eternity. Finally, she spoke.

"Bilbo?"

Bilbo jumped. "What! Oh—I'm sorry." He looked at her, and she saw grief etched on his face as he spoke. "Thorin," he said. "Thorin is dead."

Karra curled the fabric of her dress into a tight ball. Thorin? Thorin couldn't die! Not the Thorin who led them so bravely through miles of wilderness, not the Thorin who had faced down a dragon with a triumphant smile! Not Thorin! "Bilbo, I…" she began. "I…I don't know what to say." She slipped her arm around his shoulders, and sat there for a moment, her mind reeling. What would happen now? Who would be king? The last thing she remembered of him was his fist in her face. She felt a twinge of remorse. He wouldn't have wanted that. And now—he was dead.

Bilbo's voice cut into her thoughts. "Karra…he…he wanted everyone to know that he was sorry. That he…had done wrong."

"Yeah. Th…thank you." Thank you? What kind of reply was that? Karra winced, and looked away.

After a moment, the hobbit spoke again. "Well, I'll see you…tomorrow. He's to be buried then, you know."

"So soon?"

"They can't wait too long."

"Oh." Right. They can't preserve bodies like they can on Earth. It was such a heartless thought—but it was true, and they both knew it.

Bilbo stood, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly. "Well…I hope you heal quickly," he said. "Really…I do. And I…I wish you all the happiness in Middle-Earth."

Karra smiled. "Thank you. And…I'm so sorry, Bilbo. I know you loved him like a brother."

Bilbo smiled, a smile touched with sadness, and turned, disappearing out the flap of the tent. Karra sat for a while, her feet dangling off the cot, staring unseeing at the hundreds of wounded.

The bright morning sun shone through the loosely woven tent fabric. Karra opened her eyes and looked around—was it morning now? She had laid awake long into the night watching the women move softly among the many wounded warriors, wishing she could help.

Thorin was dead—their leader was dead. She had feared him, and, at times, looked up to him. And now he was just—dead. Just like that. She should be mourning for him, and yet—she wasn't.

Her eyes were drawn to a commotion at the flap of the tent. Two men bearing a litter entered. Karra thought she heard the words 'no more room' and 'too many'. The men maneuvered the litter through the rows of cots and set it to rest near her own. She looked at the pale face of the warrior it bore. His eyes were closed, and he seemed almost deathly.

Wait.

Kili?

She threw off her covers and was on her feet before she knew it. She dropped to her knees beside his cot. "Kili…Kili," she said softly. His eyes opened.

"Karra! Where am I?"

"You're in the tents of the wounded."

"What happened?"

"What happened?"

"I mean…" He took a deep breath, and let himself relax. "I mean…did we win?"

"Win? Of course! You're here, aren't you?"

"Yes…I suppose you're right. No one's told me anything."

"Really?" Why had—oh. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "I think they want you to recover, before…" She stopped. Kili was looking at her, nervous and expectant.

Kili raised himself on one elbow, barely concealing a grimace of pain. "What is it?" he cried. "Karra, what is it? Tell me!" Karra took a deep breath, and looked at him. What had she done? "Tell me, please! I can bear it! Is it Fili?"

"No, Fili is alive," she said.

"Tauriel?"

"Tauriel?" What about Tauriel? Was she still here? Was she alive? "I don't know…"

"Will you find her for me?" His hand moved under the covers, and he drew a small object from his tunic. "Give her this, and tell her…tell her to keep it as a memory of me." He pressed it into her hand. It felt cool, and smooth. She slipped it into the pocket of her skirt.

"I will," she promised. "I'll find her." She got to her feet. "Now…"

"Karra. You never told me."

"What?! Oh…I…uh…" Karra wanted to run away now. She didn't know how to say this! "It's…Kili, it's…"

Kili winced. "What is it?"

"Kili, it's…it's your uncle."

His eyes flew open. "What about my uncle?"

Karra twisted a piece of hair around her finger, her mind running desperately through everything she could say. He's dead. He died on the battlefield. No, I can't say that. Help!

"He fell a hero," she said.

Kili stared at her, unbelieving. "He's dead? My uncle is dead?"

Karra swallowed, not wanting to see the loss in his eyes. "Yes. They're going to bury him tomorrow." No, that's not right! I can't say that!

"No…no…it can't be true." Kili slumped back onto the pillow, his eyes closed, confusion and fear playing across his face. "Please…you must be mistaken!"

"I'm afraid I'm not." Karra's voice shook. She took Kili's hand and pressed it. "I'm so sorry, Kili," she said. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I had to tell you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." What could she say? "I'm sorry, Kili. I…I have to go." She pressed his hand one last time, and fled, tripping over her own feet.

The minute the tent flap dropped behind her, she leaned against the fabric wall and berated herself for leaving. She had dropped the worst news of his life on him, and then just…turned around and left! She looked back at the closed tent flap. She couldn't go back. She couldn't go back in, and face Kili's grief. She would only make things worse.

A man walked by, and she ran forward, tapping him on the arm.

"Yes?" He seemed surprised to see a very short young woman looking up at him with determination on her face. "What is it?"

"Have you seen an elf, a female elf, with long red hair?" Her words tumbled out all in a rush, tripping over each other. "I need to find her."

"Well, I've seen a good amount of elves around here, miss, but I don't seem to remember having seen the one you speak of." His voice had a confused lilt. "I'm sorry…"

"No, that's fine…that's perfectly fine…bye!" Karra gave him a large smile, curtsied, and fled, somehow managing both to laugh and to cringe at her own awkwardness. Another man walked by and she ran forward, trying not to limp.

By the time evening had come, she had canvassed the tent, and the area around it. "Sir, I'm looking for a red-haired elf maiden, I think she's a warrior." "Ma'am, have you seen an elf maid around here anywhere?" "Her hair's about the same color as mine. I'm sure she's here." If she had to be the bearer of bad news, the least she could do was to keep her promise!

Her flurry of searching turned up nothing, and she found herself standing at the edge of another tent, tired, the wound in her side calling for her attention, her head throbbing.

And yet—she had been up the whole day without collapsing or needing help. She couldn't just go back and let the other women wait on her when they were in obvious need of more help. So, with a deep breath, she walked up to the woman who seemed to be in charge of the tent, pulled herself up to her full height, and said, "Excuse me, ma'am? I've come to help."

"Do you have experience caring for wounds?" The woman seemed not even to see her.

Karra gulped. "Um…no."

"Fine. You can aid in the bringing of supplies. She gestured to the far side of the tent, where a brown-haired young woman stood, a heap of bandages in her arms. "My daughter Britta will show you where to go."

"Th…thank you, ma'am." Karra gave her best curtsy, and approached the girl. She stood by a man, his eyes closed and his face pale, a deep cut piercing his arm. Karra winced and looked away, but forced herself to go forward and tap the girl on the arm. She turned.

"Now, now," she said, with a twinkle in her eye. "What are you doing up? I thought I told you to rest!"

"Oh…hi!" Karra found herself smiling against her will as she recognized her young nurse from yesterday. "I…I was told you would show me where to go."

"Oh yes! Supplies are being gathered in the tent just opposite this one. This is for the heavily wounded. As you can see, my mother has turned me into an errand-girl." She grinned, tossing a curl over her shoulder. "Come with me. We can be errand girls together."

Karra took a step, and swayed as a burst of pain shot through her side. She heard a voice near her, faraway and hazy. She felt arms around her waist, and she opened her eyes again to see Britta above her. "Sit for a moment," she said. "You need rest."

Karra sat with her head in her hands at the edge of the tent. Women's voices floated through wavering haze. "He's burning with fever," said one.

Who was burning with fever? She opened her eyes and raised her head. Two women leaned over a figure at the far edge of the tent. As they stood, she caught her breath. Fighting another wave of dizziness, she stood, and took a few uneven steps towards the figure. She dropped to her knees at the side of his cot. He lay still, his face flushed, and his chest barely moving.

"Fili," she said, slipping her hand under the covers and touching his hand. It felt warm. "It's me. Karra. I'm here."

There was no response.

"Fili," she said again, softer still, unwilling to disturb the others around her. "Fili, wake up. Your brother needs you to wake up. Your—" She stopped. Your uncle needs you to wake up.

Your uncle.

Karra swallowed back a catch in her throat. She couldn't tell Fili. Pain throbbed in her side again, and a sob wrenched itself from her throat. Not now…she couldn't cry now. She swallowed again, and tried to sit up.

She slumped forward, another sob forcing itself from her. She clutched Fili's hand, her shoulders shaking.

And she cried.

She cried for Thorin Oakenshield, the leader who would have been king. She cried for the sight of the orcs swarming over the plain. She cried for Kili, and the grief she had seen. She cried for the emptiness and death of war. She cried for Bilbo, who had lost a friend.

She cried for the hours she had lain on the battlefield, thinking her Fili was dead.

She pressed a kiss to his hand, still weeping pitiful little sobs. She lay her head on his chest. "I thought you were dead." The words caught in her throat. "I thought you were dead."

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned. Her eyes stung. Bilbo stood there, looking uncomfortable and sympathetic at the same time. "Are you coming?" he asked.

Karra swallowed. "Coming?"

"To the…memorial for Thorin."

"No!" The word came out like as shot from a gun, and she jumped. "I mean…no. I'm staying here."

Bilbo stood, playing with the edges of his tunic. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." The words caught in her throat. "I can't leave him."

I have no schedule anymore. :/