Author's Note: I've been taking a writing class and I'm learning so much. I'm also a bit dazzled with the sheer amount of things I've done wrong when writing this story! I honestly could have edited this chapter quite a bit more. :P

Chapter 39-Come Back to Me

The few lamps that burned throughout the tent cast flickering shadows on the ceiling. Karra sat beside Fili's cot, her hand resting in his. Only one woman remained here. The candle in her hand cast yellow light on Fili's face. There was life there—Karra could see it.

They were burying Thorin now—they were laying him in a tomb of stone deep in the heart of the mountain. Karra's mind felt heavy, but her eyes wouldn't close. Far away, she fancied she could hear the mournful sounds of a funeral procession—but surely it was only an echo. She stared at the side of the tent, watching the shadows in their play.

Karra blinked. Had his lips moved? She clutched his hand and leaned forward, her eyes intent on his face. His eyes fluttered open and stared unseeing at the ceiling of the tent.

"Fili," she said.

"Kili," he said, his voice cracking. "Is he alive?"

Karra leaned forward, clutching Fili's hand. "Yes," she said, breathless. "He's alive. He's fine. He's alive."

"Karra. Is she well?"

Karra felt a catch in her throat. "I'm here," she said. "I'm fine."

He turned his head, and she felt his hand tighten just a bit around hers. "Karra." He struggled with the words. "Remember me…If I don't…"

Karra's face was nearly on top of his. His words were weak, barely audible. "Of course! I'll never forget you. But Fili…you're going to make it…you're…" But his eyes were closed again, and his grip on her hand failed. She slumped back. Seconds passed like hours, but he didn't move again. She felt her head slump forward, and pillowed it weakly in her arm, feeling any energy she had left drain out of her body like a sieve.

It must have been morning when she woke, for light filled the tent and the candles had gone out. She heard the voices of several women, and the soft padding of footsteps as they moved from cot to cot. She saw Fili's face sitting close to hers. She raised her head and ran her fingers through her hair, which stuck out like a bird's nest. She yawned, and forced herself to stand. She remembered her promise of the day before. Tearing her eyes from Fili's face, she gave his hand a last squeeze, and turned, reluctant to leave, yet longing to get out of this tent of suffering.

Men moved here and there on the battlefield, searching, lifting bodies on litters, piling orcs in a huge, gruesome hill. She tore her eyes from the sight and headed towards the city of Dale. She had made a promise—to find Tauriel. And she would keep it.

The pain in her side had lessened to a sharp ache, and the bandage on her face seemed to have disappeared. She touched the wound, and felt a hard scab. You'll likely have a scar from this one. And right in the middle of her cheek, too.

Near the walls of the city, she spotted a figure, armed with bow and arrow, red hair blowing gently in the breeze. A grin spread across her face, and she ran forward. "Tauriel! I've been looking for you!"

The figure turned. "Karra?" Tauriel seemed wan and pale, and she looked as if a wisp of wind could blow her away. "You're here?"

"Yes, I'm here!" Karra forced herself to smile, though she felt a deep stab of worry for her elven friend. "I came to give you this." She drew the object from her pocket and opened her hand to reveal a small, black stone, engraved with dwarven letters. "Kili told me to give it to you."

Karra thought she heard Tauriel catch her breath, and her voice wavered slightly as she replied. "Thank you," she said, slipping the stone from Karra's hand and clasping her own thin hand around it. "You saw him, then."

"Well, yes. He spoke to me yesterday."

Tauriel stepped backwards as if she'd been hit. Her face went pale, and then flushed, and then pale again. For a moment, Karra was worried she would faint. "He lives?" she said.

Karra blinked. "You…you didn't know that?"

"I saw him die. I saw the orc press its terrible blade through his chest." She closed her eyes. "I…I pressed this into his hands as he lay on the battlefield."

"He…he seemed pretty badly wounded, I guess I can see how you thought that?" Karra stuttered, trying to find the words. "I mean…I get it. I thought…I thought Fili…" Her voice trailed off to nothing, and she just stood there awkwardly. Suddenly, she threw her arms around Tauriel's waist. Tauriel stepped back, surprised for a moment, then smiled. She set her thin hand on Karra's head, and they just stood there, Tauriel staring unseeing at the walls of Dale, Karra's arms clasped firmly around her. Finally, she spoke.

"I must leave," she said. "My people are leaving. I must go with them."

"But…but…" Karra stepped back, clutching Tauriel's hand. "You can't see Kili one more time before you go?"

"I know of many who would not approve."

"Oh come on." Karra gave a tug on her hand. "We can get there and back again in a few minutes. You have to!"

"Give him my…" Tauriel paused, hesitating on the word. "Give him my love, and tell him that I will never forget him. I must go." She slipped her hand from Karra's and was gone, disappearing beyond the walls of the city of Dale.

Karra started for a moment at the place where she had stood, then turned, and ran as fast as she could back to the tents, not even stopping for the pain in her side.

The yellow light of candles flickered on his face once more as Karra dropped to her knees by his side. He was flushed, and she could feel the heat as she touched his hand.

He's burning with fever.

She laid her head beside his and ran a finger through his dirty, tangled hair.

"I need you." The words were so soft they barely escaped her lips. "Fili, I need you. Come back to me. Come back to me."

A week passed from the night of the funeral. Karra healed, and pain in her side faded to a dull ache. She was kept busy carrying bandages, sorting supplies, and helping with some of the less seriously wounded. Britta was everywhere at once, often dragging Karra behind her, and they were 'errand girls together' as the girl had said.

Treasure was hauled from the halls of Erebor and divided among the three peoples. Karra tried to stay out of the way of that mess—she had had enough of sorting treasure, and she would only get in the way. She developed a skill in winding large rolls of bandages that she never thought she had. The battlefield was cleared, and many dead warriors were buried in mounds outside of Dale. The reek of battle still hung over the plain, and would hang there for months—even years later, one could catch a whiff of orc breath, or see a blotch of blood on the muddy ground.

Karra and Britta walked from Dale one bright morning, each carrying large piles of supplies. "I noticed you slept in the heavily wounded tent last night," Britta said, in a rare moment of solemnity. "I do hope nothing's wrong."

"Well…" Karra looked away. "I'm fine. It's…it's Fili." A light flush crept into her cheeks. "My…" She searched for a word. "My betrothed," she finally said.

"You're…you're engaged?" Britta's face lit up and her eyes twinkled again.

Karra ducked her head and smiled. "Yes," she said. "He's…a dwarf. I mean, of course he's a dwarf. He's Thorin's nephew."

Britta stopped so quickly the large pile of supplies nearly fell from her arms. "Thorin—King Thorin?"

Karra shrugged. "Yes?"

"You're to be a princess, then!"

Karra giggled. "You think I haven't thought of that? Where I come from, every girl dreams of finding her prince."

Britta grabbed Karra by the hand and started to run forward.

"Careful!" Karra bent over, taking a deep breath and putting her hand to her side.

"Oh my! I'm sorry." Britta giggled, her brown curls bouncing. "But come with me! I must tell my mother she's giving errands to a princess."

"A future princess," Karra said, and laughed. Even as she laughed, the smile faded from her face, and she stared at the large tent, filled with heavily wounded.

The flush had faded from his face now, and his cheek felt cold as she brushed a hand over it, as if his life was slipping away, heartbeat by heartbeat, moment by moment. It had been a week now. Every day, she sat by him, holding his hand, and yet he had opened his eyes only once. Every day, his fever-flushed cheeks grew paler. Was the fever fading, or was he slowly dying?

She stroked his hair, remembering that day months before when she had sat by the giant pinnacle rock and braided it.

With a soft smile, she unfastened the clasp that held his braid in place. Battlefield grime streaked his hair. As she worked her fingers through one braid after another, she found herself examining his face. There was a sort of unrest in it that she couldn't quite indentify, as if the forces of death and life were battling for supremacy within him. He looked drawn, and tired. She felt her heart stirred with a strange feeling of pity. Even as he laid here unconscious, did he remember her in his deepest of dreams?

She clasped his last braid. There. He looks like a prince again. Looking at his face, pale, cast with flickering shadows of candlelight, she thought of a funeral procession. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.

Please don't die.

"Karra."

Karra opened her eyes and raised her head with a yawn. Bilbo stood at the entrance to the tent, a cloak draped around his shoulders, a chest of treasure in his arms.

"What is it?"

"Karra, I'm leaving."

"Oh. Okay. Bye." She laid her head back down and closed her eyes. She heard the gentle padding footsteps of the hobbit's feet as he left the tent. Her eyes popped open. "Wait! Bilbo!" She jumped to her feet, giving her hair and dress a hasty swipe, and flew past the aisles of cots and out of the tent. "Bilbo!"

He cast one last look back at the tent door where she stood. "Bilbo!" she cried. "Wait!"

He turned, smiling sadly. "Karra. I wanted to bid you a final farewell."

"You're really leaving then? For good?"

Bilbo looked at his feet. "Yes," he said. "I am."

"Well…" Karra struggled with the words. "Goodbye, I guess. I mean…Bilbo…" She swallowed hard. "I don't have anything to give you, but I wish I did. You're been…well…you've been the only one who really understood…understood what it was like to be torn away from your home and dragged on an adventure…" Her words failed, and she threw her arms around his neck. "This is all I have for you." Her voice wavered. "I'll miss you, Bilbo—more than anything."

Bilbo gave her an awkward pat on the back. "It's fine, really. I don't need gifts."

Karra drew back, trying to smile. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should be the one comforting you. You were the one who lost…your…your friend." She gave a small smile, and bit her lip. "I wish you the best of everything!" she blurted out. "I hope you…have a wonderful life."

"Well…I suppose you'll be much too busy with your duties as queen to visit my humble little home on the borders of the world." He smiled now. "I'll miss you, Karra, and I wish you the best of happiness life can bring you." He turned, and waved one last time. Karra stood, twisting a piece of hair around her finger, watching as the small figure, a cloak thrown recklessly over its shoulders, a chest under is arms, dwindled to a speck on the road, and disappeared.

Many dwarves sat in the great council hall of Erebor. At their head sat Dain, the great, blustering, red-haired leader of the northern dwarves. Balin's voice echoed off the high stone ceiling as Karra entered at the back, and stood in the shadows.

"We do not yet know if the lad will choose to take his place as king," the old dwarf was saying. "He may choose to abdicate. If so, who will become king?"

"If Fili abdicates, then the kingship falls to his younger brother," spoke another dwarf, a stranger who Karra supposed must have come with Dain's army.

"Aye. And if he abdicates…"

"Then, I believe, the responsibility will be placed on the shoulders of our leader, Dain of the Iron Hills."

"The position might fall to him anyway," said another unknown dwarf. "At least until Fili is mature enough to rule. Why, he has barely reached marriageable age!"

But…but…he's marrying me!

"He is old enough to make his own decisions," Balin said. "Why, he has chosen a wife for himself already!"

Dain harrumphed. "Quite young," he said. "Quite young indeed."

And I'm like nineteen. Karra played with the edge of her sleeve and scanned the room. All eyes were turned to the others at the council, and no one had yet noticed her. She sighed. Maybe she should just leave. She really had no place here.

"A week now, and no news." Oin looked at the floor, his face dour.

"No news." Dwalin's face was expressionless, but Karra thought she heard a slight waver in his voice. "We cannot lose another."

"We will not. When last I saw him, it seemed to me that life was returning to him," Balin said.

"A week of councils, and still there is no decision! Will Dain be regent, or will he not?" Gloin struck the floor with the handle of his axe, and the impact sent lingering echoes around the chamber.

"We are waiting for word from the boy himself!" Dain cried. "What's taking him so long? That's what I want to know!"

"I suggest you visit him yourself," Balin said, his eyes twinkling. "Your presence alone would serve to call anyone back from the brink of death, I judge."

Dain spluttered, and looked as if he couldn't decide if Balin's words were a complement or not. Karra suppressed a giggle. Balin's eyes swept across the room and met hers, and he smiled. Karra ducked her head.

At least an hour must have passed as she stood there in the corner, listening to the councils as they dragged on, and on, and on. They moved from kingship to treasure to the rebuilding and cleaning of Erebor to treaties with the city of Dale and the elves. Karra didn't understand most of it, and what she did understand was largely uninteresting. She stood in the corner, listening, not daring to add her voice to these grand councils, though, as she would someday be queen of Erebor, she supposed she must accustom herself to such talk.

Finally, she turned, and tiptoed from the room. There were better things to than to stand uselessly and listen to indecisive dwarves debate over every issue they could think of. She found herself on the battlefield and walking towards the heavily wounded tent before she knew what she was doing, the discussion of kingship still echoing in her mind. Fili had to wake soon, or his decision would be made for him, it seemed!

If he woke.

She shoved the thought to the back of her mind as she lifted the flap of the tent and entered. Her steps directed themselves to the familiar corner where she had spent so many hours this last week. She dropped to her knees beside Fili's cot. He looked different, somehow. His face was pale as before, but there some unidentifiable quality to it that made Karra look deeper.

He was smiling.

"Fili," she said, taking his hand. "I'm here." His eyes opened, and met hers.

She jumped backward. "Fili!"

His hand tightened on hers. "Karra," he said. "I'm back."

Before she could stop herself, she had thrown her arms around him so hard she nearly knocked him off the cot. She was laughing, pressing a kiss to his lips, to his cheek, hugging him. If she could have, she would have pulled him up and danced around the room with him. "Careful!" He laughed. "You'll knock me back into the palaces of Mahal!"

Karra didn't know what he meant by that, and she didn't care. She drew back, perching on the side of the bed, giggling. "I've waited a week!"

"A week. So it's been a week, then." He looked around the tent, but he didn't seem to see it. "It seemed like months that I wandered the halls of death. Longing to let go—but held back by my promise."

"Your promise?"

"To come back to you."

I'll come back—I promise. "You mean…"

"To dwarves, a vow is sacred, unbreakable." He stroked her hand. "And I felt you calling me back, even as I felt my spirit departing. Sometimes I fancied I heard your voice, or felt you touching my hand…"

Karra leaned closer and stroked his cheek. "I was here every night," she said. "Sometimes I slept here. You opened your eyes once, and spoke to me, the night of Thorin's…" She stopped. "I…I'm sorry…"

Fili held up a hand. "No. You don't need to tell me. I already know."

Karra looked at her feet. "So you know…about everything. That you're supposed to decide…"

Fili's face was grim now. "Yes. And I know what my decision must be."

"And I'll be queen." The reality of what she had said settled on her like a weight. "Fili, I'm not ready for this!"

Fili's face lit up with a smile again, and he laughed. "Being queen is hardly any work, Karra!" he said. "I will be the one with the responsibility. All you will have to do is…well…be my wife! And I'll make that an easy job." He raised himself with painful effort to a sitting position, and slipped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. "Don't worry, Karra. You're worthy of the kingdom's respect."

Karra giggled nervously. "I'm…I'm glad you think that."

"Of course I do." His eyes met hers, and he smiled. "Never forget it, Karra."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, and the sat together in the tents of the wounded, their future looking both bright and dim before them.

Aaaaand…here we go again. The story is going on hiatus until I finish writing it. I have four chapters left—four chapters! But my fanfiction muse isn't working right now—at least not for this fanfiction. How many times do I have to promise I'll finish this thing? I will finish it!