Chapter 45:

I felt a scream rip free of my throat as I saw, as if in slow-motion, my horrible dream come true. My worst nightmare. Thorin was lying, bleeding against the mountain, and my feet felt frozen.

The brothers were fighting with all their souls - until Fili got speared in the stomach. Kili fell to his knees next to his brother, and suddenly a knife was protruding from his chest.

"Kili!" I shouted, and before I knew my feet were moving, I was sliding on my knees to a stop right next to my dying prince.

The knife was sticking out of his chest, which was heaving as he fought for breath. I choked back tears that threatened to drown all rational thought.

"Freya," he croaked, his hand rising to stroke my hair back from my cheek.

"Kili, stop, wait - I can fix you, I can make you better," I all but sobbed, ripping open his shirt around his heavily bleeding wound.

"Freya, I love you," he groaned, his voice tight with pain, his dark eyes fixed on my blue. I desperately scrabbled around the knife hilt, searching for the actual wound.

"Kili, hold still, I love you too, but you'll never live if you don't stop moving!" I breathed, swallowing back my tears as I gently yanked the weapon out of his skin, wincing as he hissed and gasped in pain.

I allowed myself one, deep breath and I placed one hand over Kili's bare, bleeding chest, and the other on my necklace. Every fibre of my being was utterly, completely focused on the word heal. I watched as his skin knit back together, felt his heart heal beneath his muscles. His back arched in discomfort, and he moaned, but I pressed harder against his breastbone, forcing him still.

Only a moment later, he relaxed and fixed me with his gaze. I leaned down and pressed one swift, desperate kiss against his lips, then pulled back, my hair tickling his face, and whispered, "Stay here."

I straightened up, and saw that there was a sparkling dome over an area that only included me, Kili, Fili, Thorin, and the dead bodies of all the three had slain. Wargs and Orcs threw themselves against it, but it sparked and didn't even give a little.

The things you could do with magic, without even knowing.

I sprinted over to Thorin, knowing he had the least time. "Thorin," I gasped, ripping his coat open, his shirt, exposing his skin just as I had done with Kili.

Then his hand came up and stayed mine. "Save them." It wasn't an order, more of a plea. His eyes were fixed on my face, in desperation, his hair a knotted mess around his face.

I suppressed another sob. "Kili's safe," I whispered.

A humourless smile twisted his lips. "Of course he is," he croaked hoarsely. "The one you love most comes first, do they not?"

Despite everything, a small wave of defensiveness rose in me. "He had the least time," I whispered fiercely. "And now that's you. Do you want me to save your life or not?"

He stared straight at my face, as if cataloguing all of it, committing it to memory. "Fili," he replied at last. "You are wasting time. Save him, Freya."

"But, Thorin -"

"I am old, Freya." A spasm racked his frame, and I curled my fingers around his wound, about to release healing into him. His expression stopped me. "Save my nephew first. Only then, come back."

I sighed, releasing him. I ran over to Fili. He was choking, dying fast. "Fili, relax," I whispered. I pulled away his clothing from the wound, methodically slid the spear out. He groaned and shifted against my hands, but I shoved his back against the ground. "Hold still," I hissed. One blood-covered hand over his wound and another at my necklace, I released healing into his body.

His cut healed, his guts healed, everything healed beneath my fingers. And then I was flying, back to Thorin's side, ready to heal - but even then, I knew it was too late. I curled myself into a ball, pressing my forearms to my stomach, and at last, began to cry.

My body racked with sobs as I felt the tears slide down my face, filled with grief and horror and the awful, pressing guilt. If only I had been a little quicker, the tiniest bit faster, hadn't lingered to talk to Thorin, hadn't waited to see what he wanted, just healed him quickly and moved on to Fili - then all three would be alive and well now.

"I'm sorry, Thorin," I gasped. "It's all my fault, if only I was faster, if only I could have been a better healer, a better person -"

I felt a presence at my back, and suddenly Kili was there, holding me as I cried. I curled like a little girl in his arms, feeling awful as hell and wondering how people coped with such guilt. Fili came up and knelt beside his uncle. Kili did the same, me still wrapped in his arms.

"Freya," whispered Thorin softly. "Do not feel so guilty. If it is anyone's fault, it is mine, for talking to you, slowing you down. Do not blame yourself, Freya. If anything, feel proud. It is not every day that one can snatch two people from the jaws of death, and bring peace to a third."

I swallowed, slowing the flow of tears enough to speak around ragged breaths. "I could have healed three, I could have saved three, I could have saved all of you, instead I just waited and ruined everything, h-how can the three of you stand to look at me?"

Then suddenly both Gandalf and Bilbo were there. The wizard took in all the information with one glance. "Oh, Thorin," he said quietly. "I never wanted it to end this way, old friend."

A sad smile changed Thorin's face. "Neither did I, Gandalf, but it is preferable to know that my nephews live than to see them die with me."

He turned to Bilbo. "Again, my dear hobbit, I find myself apologising for earlier, rash words. Their inaccuracy was extensive. Do forgive me, Bilbo."

Bilbo looked like words were stuck in his throat. "Of course, Thorin. May all the stars in the heavens dim for the sadness that taints this day - and may a thousand honours come to you when you pass into the hands of your forefathers."

Thorin smiled at the hobbit, and then spoke to his nephews. "Do not mourn me too badly, boys," he said quietly. "I do not know what would have happened without the girl you hold, Kili, so cherish her. Never, ever let her go. She is the reason this quest went as well as it did, she and Bilbo." He gave a nod to the hobbit. "Take care of our people, Fili. Take care of my mountain. And most of all, take care of yourselves."

He turned his head to look at me again, his breathing becoming ragged. "Freya. Do not blame yourself. If you must, then at least allow the man who holds you now to help you. He will always stay by your side, and you must do the same for him." I made an ugly noise of self-loathing and he cracked a tiny smile. "Freya, you killed Smaug. You saved my nephew's lives, Kili's twice. You have given hope and life to so many people - and now you give me peace. Do not be guilty. Please."

Suddenly, he went rigid, and cried out. "Goodbye, my friends," he murmured, and all five of us watched as the King Under the Mountain went still, watched as the light left his eyes, watched as he died.

I turned away as Gandalf gently closed his eyes, burying my face in Kili's shirt as I poured all of my guilt, my pain, my fear, and my grief into my tears. For awhile, we stayed like that, waiting for something that none of us could name.

Slowly, though, the sobs stopped, and I became aware of my hands clenched in his coat, the smell of him as he held me, the rubbing of his hand up and down my back and his other hands stroking my hair gently, his voice murmuring softly to me, hushing me. When he realised that my sobs had slowed to ragged breaths, he gently stood up and let me down so my feet touched the ground. His hands remained.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hi," I said softly. "I'm sorry I got your shirt all wet."

He chuckled, then quickly sobered up. "You saved my life, Freya."

I shrugged. "You've saved mine enough times on this quest."

"I saved you from getting hurt. What you did - no one else can do that. And you saved Fili." He jerked his chin at his brother. "I don't - how could I -"

He was stumbling over his words now, unable to express his thanks. I could see the grief fresh in his eyes, but he was holding it back, for me, to keep me from crumbling again. So finally, I curled my hands in the collar of his coat and pulled his lips down to meet mine.

It was a soft, gentle, hesitant kiss, not one that lacked passion, exactly, but one that did not serve to arouse or stir up any feeling. It was one that was simply meant to show love, to explain without words to the other person that no matter what, we would be there for each other.

It was kiss that was meant to heal.

But the battle would not wait for us, and in my distracted moments, the barrier-shield had come down. Gandalf was fighting to raise it again, but there wasn't anything he could do.

I ripped myself away from Kili and threw myself at the Orcs and Wargs that rushed in. Despite what I had told Kili, despite the stopping of my tears, despite even the fact that I knew that I had saved two lives out of three, I couldn't help the unimaginable guilt that I could not have saved Thorin. There were ways, spinning through my head, how if I could go back in time I could have saved him this way, that way, the other way.

And I couldn't cope, I couldn't deal with it, the emotions - like Vulcans, I couldn't help it, I had to forget. So I threw myself at the enemy, bashing them with my swords, doing as many complicated moves as possible and twisting and diving and throwing myself straight at opponents that I would have steered very clear of were I not emotionally compromised.

I could hear Fili and Kili, Bilbo and Gandalf, all of them behind me, fighting valiantly - but not quite as insanely as me.

Then I saw Azog and his son, Bolg. Both of them were astride white Wargs, giant, perverted puppy-dogs. They were laughing at my little band of misfits, and at Thorin's body over against the mountain.

I couldn't help it.

I sprinted over in front of them and screamed, "I am Freya Macintosh, Slayer of Smaug the Terrible! Who dares to laugh at the body of the rightful King Under the Mountain?"

The two ugly Orcs stared at me for a second, and I could practically see the wheels turning: Little girl. Unimportant. Overconfident. Easy to defeat.

As if.

And so Azog made a grunting noise at his son that seemed to say, "Stay here. I'll deal with it."

He spurred his gigantic wolf over towards me, swinging his mace as he went. I dove under it and came up swinging my swords, opening a long gash in the Warg's side with Glitterthorn.

And the rest of it became lightning-fast flashes of parrying that damn mace, slashing, dodging, whirling and stabbing. At long last, Ripplescale found sank into the Warg's flank all the way, piercing his heart. The over-sized dog made a choking noise and keeled over, almost squashing his rider. For a second, I hoped it had.

But Azog came up snarling, swinging that stupid mace and clearly swearing in whatever nasty language he spoke.

"Come and get me, Orc-Boy," I sneered, and dove at the ground, sliding baseball style as he roared in fury and sprinted at where I had been standing moments before. I went under his mace, came up behind him, and both my swords sunk into his back - Ripplescale had found that one place on a creature's back that severed the spine and pierced the heart, killing instantly.

Azog went rigid, and with a horrible cough, slid forward off of my blades with a nasty squelch. I raised the blood-covered swords above the body-strewn field, placing my boot on his scarred and blood-streaked back with a savage, throaty yell.

An answering roar behind me caught my attention, and I dropped my swords point first into the ground, scrabbling for my bow, loosing an arrow as I spun. The projectile flew and stuck fast in Bolg's mount, killing it.

I slid my bow back into my quiver, picking up my swords again, and my eyes scanned for Bolg himself. That arrow had been meant for him, but it was a trick that could only be used once.

Another noise, like a little clatter of metal when someone stepped on a sword. I spun, reacting instinctively, bringing up my swords to parry a down-swinging axe as I finally located Bolg.

"You - can't - defeat - me!" I growled through gritted teeth as he bore down on me, trying to use his greater size to his advantage. I yelled wordlessly, and I felt the energy in my sapphires transfer to my jade to refill the power I was using as my swords suddenly bore upward and the axe shattered.

"Fool," spat the Orc in front of me, spreading his hands as my sword laid against his exposed throat. "You can't kill me."

"Watch me, ugly, 'cause I don't give a damn about destiny, fate, prophecies - nope. I'll kill who I want, thank you much. And it's not like it's hard to kill you - I killed a bloody dragon." And with that, I pulled my sword across his vein with a definitive air, slitting his throat. I watched coldly as he bled out at my feet. And just as I had done with his father, when he was finally dead, I placed my booted foot on his back, raising my swords slick with Orc blood above my head, and loosed another throaty, hoarse cry.

Then a loud, sharp shout flew across the battlefield, and I knew instinctively - Kili.

"Oh, no, not again, you bastard," I hissed, and I broke into a run across the battlefield. As I ran, Orcs fell before me as I jabbed them, slashed them, murdered them - and then I felt a tug on Glitterthorn, stuck fast in the spine of a particularly large Warg. I let it go, unable to stop in my quest to save Kili.

Then, only a few steps later, I lost Ripplescale to the rather botched (but effective) beheading of an Orc, and was forced to pull out my dagger to fend off the uglies.

I landed in a slide next to my (again) dying prince. This time, Fili was hovering nearby, fending off Orcs. "Freya!" he gasped. "Quick, he's dying -"

"I know," I snapped. "I can fix him, just -" But I stammered a stop, my hand probing at my throat to find a necklace empty of energy - I had used it all on killing Bolg. I scrabbled for my swords, but I had lost them. Even the dagger was empty of magic.

"What's wrong?" asked Fili.

"I - my gems - they're empty -"

"Can you still fix him?"

I stiffened my resolve. "Of course I can. I just -"

Gandalf's words, from what seemed like years ago, outside Bilbo's house, came back to me: No doubt you would be able to work a spell without your stones, but only one, and it would be very large – for to lose both of your sources, the situation would be rather dire – and it would knock you out for days.

I straightened my back and growled, "Keep fighting. I'll fix him."

Fili turned back to the Orcs with great difficulty, and I reached down the pull the knife out of Kili's gut.

"Freya," groaned Kili, and once again I was biting back a sob. He was looking at me with those big brown eyes, trying to tell me not to do it.

"I've got to do this, I've got to fix you," I whispered. "If I don't - survivor's guilt, eh? I already got that for Thorin -"

"I can't let you do this," he grunted, his chest fluttering as he fought for breath.

"And I can't let you die!" I snapped. "Kili, it's not -"

"If you do this, you'll die," he gasped.

I almost laughed out loud. He had totally misunderstood - he thought that if I cast magic without gems... "I'm not going to die, Kili, it'll just knock me out for awhile -"

But from the look in his eyes, that wasn't what he was thinking of. "What if it goes wrong?" he whispered.

I stared at him for a second, and then suddenly got it. "You think I'm going to be sent back to Earth again."

He nodded mutely.

I smiled softly at him. "Well, if I do, know this - I promise I'll come back. Three months maximum, here. Don't forget me."

"Never," he whispered.

I relaxed and kissed him once, hard - possibly my last kiss with him. Then I carefully wrenched the knife out of his stomach and threw it aside. "I love you, Kili," I whispered, placing my hands over his wound.

"I love you, too," he replied with a little moan.

I curled my fingers around his knife-wound and yelled aloud, sending a jolt of healing into the dwarf while simultaneously making sure that if this spell sent me home, when I came back, I would remember everything about what had happened here - not just the quest, but the time when I had been Tralique, as well.

And then darkness rushed in, and I didn't even have time to say goodbye.

And that is that. Now would be an interesting time to tell you that my computer is having issues and for those of you who haven't read this yet, I'll be putting more up in a few months -

no, sorry, haha. S'all good. That ^ is my sorry attempt at humor. See you next chapter!