A/N

Yay, the chapter you've all ben waiting for. The chapter concerning Thorin's faith. Well, I shall not keep you waiting any longer. You've waited long enough.

Grieve

Várar watches in horror as Thorin pulls back his sword, allowing the pale orc to piece his chest. Even from where she is standing, she can hear him cry out in pain. Next to her, Fíli cries out for his uncle, as he watches him stab the pale orc as well, killing him.

Without hesitating, Várar turns Tálagor around. She will not deny Fíli his last few moments with his uncle. Even if that means the young prince must be in pain for a while. So she spurs her stallion to speed up, moving towards the frozen lake again.

'Thorin!' Várar cries out as she jumps off of Tálagor, running towards the fallen warrior.

She doesn't take notice of Fíli getting off of the stallion as well, nor does she care. Someone else will help him get to his uncle – wasn't it Dwalin she had just passed by? It's not like she can carry the heavy dwarf anyway.

'Thorin,' she says again, this time her voice quietly as she looks at him, while he is gasping in pain. 'No, don't move, you're only going to make it worse.'

Her voice only above a whisper. Tears in her eyes. But she can't help it, as she slows down her pace, walking over to Thorin, the others following closely. She shivers, but not from icy wind. It is her fear for the severity of his wound that frightens her.

'It's-it's nothing,' Thorin says, coughing a little. 'Just a scratch.'

He smiles weakly at her, as he tries to sit up, but she holds him down. Can't he see he is only making it worse? She scans his body, searching to where the sword had pierced his skin. His clothes ripped at the spot the sword had ripped right through. His armour crushed by the impact of the blow.

No, no, no, no! This can not be happening! He can't die! Thorin can't die!

Blood is smeared all over the ice from where the dwarven king has stumbled across its slippery path. A small moan escapes his lips as he moves his leg, when something catches her eye.

'Oh...' Várar almost whispers, her voice brittle as she looks at his chest again, examining his wound. 'Thorin, you're... That's...'

No words can form as she stares at him in shock, as more tears fill her eyes. He slowly reaches out his hand to wipe away her tears, as she tries to find back her voice. And after taking a deep breath, she finds it, though still brittle.

'You're... You're wearing mithril...'

Thorin roars out a laughter, before breaking into a coughing fit, causing the dwarrowdam glare at him, though he can see the worry in her eyes as well. Then Thorin sits up, rubbing his chest. No doubt that will leave a bruise. Something hits him hard in the face, before he is met by a flash of auburn hair as Várar pulls him into an embrace.

'Don't you ever do that again, you stupid, arrogant jerk!'

By now Fíli has arrived as well, with Dwalin supporting him and Bilbo following closely. All three of them a smile of relieve on their face, after realising Thorin is alright. Though Fíli can't help but to feel worried still. His uncle might be alright, but he hasn't seen his little brother. Not when Várar and he had rushes over to the scene. Not when Dwalin helped him move towards his uncle. And even now, there is still no trace of Kíli.

With the threat of orcs gone now and his daughter safe, Thranduil orders his warriors to leave. There is still a battle going on below and they are needed there much more than here. Wiping the blood off his sword, he sheaths it, before turning his attention to the small part of dwarves – Várar mostly.

With her body still pressed up against the dwarf king, he can clearly see her body shocking softly as she cries on Thorin's chest. Her hands clutching the fabric of his tunic. How she has come to care for these dwarves in such a short time is beyond him. Though, he guesses it has to do with her being a dwarf as well.

And as a father, he has noticed something else as well. Something no father is too thrilled too see in their daughter's eyes. The adoring of another male, a dwarf in this case. And the worst part being that he has seen him look at her in the same manner.

'She will not leave us,' he hears his son say as the elf prince walks over to his father. 'You know that, don't you father?'

'Perhaps,' Thranduil agrees, his eyes not leaving the dwarrowdam. 'Perhaps not.'

Legolas turns his gaze from the small female to his father, a mixture of confusion and shock on his face as he realises what his father is hinting at. Then he turns his pale eyes back to Várar. She will not leave them, she cannot leave them! No creature walking this earth is able to keep his sister away from their father. Her whole life she has always been next to him and Legolas knows Várar well enough, to know she will not turn her back to her father just like that.

Besides, Legolas will not even allow these dwarves to take his beloved gwilwileth away from him!

'Come, Legolas.'

The prince is about to nod, but quickly changes his mind. He has yet to find Tauriel and he will not return home without her. So instead of following his father, Legolas turns the other way in his search for the missing she-elf.

Várar watches the Lonely Mountain in despair as the small company moves towards it. Dead bodies lie everywhere. Most of them orcs, but also also elves, dwarves and men that have fallen. Grieve is in the air like a thick mist, suffocating her. The steady footsteps of Tálagor following her, calming her nerves slightly.

Várar glances over at Ravenhill for a moment, hoping, no praying, to see the small form of Kíli following them. But every time she turns her head, she sees nothing. No sign of Kíli. There had been no trace of the young dwarf back at Ravenhill. They've searched everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. The only thing Dwalin had found, had been a small black stone with ruins written in it. But that alone had been no sign of concern. No, it had been the place where Dwalin had found the stone, for it lay close to a pool of blood.

She looks at the mountain again, as they are getting closer and closer. Dain and his men are already waiting at the entrance, waiting for the king to return. Elves are waiting there as well, both races grieving for their loss.

'The elves are eager to take you back to that forrest.'

She ignores the sarcasm in Thorin's voice as he walks up to her. With every step he takes, he is in pain, though he tries to hide it. But he cannot hide the limp in his right leg, as he keeps on walking. He will have plenty of time to rest his leg, but not right now. With Kíli missing, he cannot afford to rest!

'And your people are waiting for their king to reclaim his throne. Are you really up for it? You won't be affected by the sickness anymore?'

The question takes him by surprise and Thorin looks at her in shock. Her blue eyes look straight into his as she waits for an answer. It is a fair question, seeing how he had been affected by the dragon sickness not even a day ago. And Thorin has asked himself the same question as well back at Ravenhill.

'I don't know,' he anders truthfully, his gaze turned to Erebor – his home his kingdom! 'But I will fight against it with all my might.'

Várar nods. That's fair enough. As long as there won't be any wars anymore. She has had her share of dead. Too many have died these passed couple of days and men have lost the most. And now that the battle is over, time has come to grieve.

Tonight she will grieve the loss of the many lives together with her family, and tomorrow she will return to Mirkwood with her father. And there she will stay until the time is right to return to the mountain.

Suddenly she notices her brother leaving of of the tents, his face emotionless as he stares ahead of him.

'Muindor!' she calls out, but he doesn't turn to face her, nor does he response.

She calls again, but still the elf doesn't response. She quickens her pace, wanting to know why her brother is so upset. Legolas keeps on staring ahead of him, standing just outside the tent when Várar reaches him. Only when Várar gently places her hand on his arm, does he react.

His eyes show a hint of sadness, which he quickly tries to hide again. But Várar has seen it and she has also seen the glare Legolas had given her, before noticing who she was. It frightens her a bit. She waits for him to say something. But Legolas remains silent.

As she looks at the tall elf, his eyes slowly show the sadness from before as his eyes travel to the tent they are standing in front of.

Várar follows his gaze. She can hear voices come from inside the tent, speaking elvish. Singing a song of grieve and she finds herself move closer to them. Her hand trembles in fear as it lingers in the air, not yet daring to move the flaps. Afraid of what she will find on the other side.

Swallowing thickly, Várar finally finds the courage to continue. She has prepared herself for what she might find, who she might find. The heartbroken expression on her brother's face when she moved towards the tent had told her enough. But still she has to see it for her own.

Yet instead of seeing the auburn she-elf, Várar sees the dark-haired dwarf that had been missing since Ravenhill. Kíli. The dwarf lies on a white bed, with blood smeared all over it. He doesn't move as she slowly moves over to him. And for a moment she fears the young dwarf has passed away. But then she sees his steady breathing, causing her to release her own breath – she didn't even know she was holding it.

Standing next to him, she watches the dwarf prince. His hair messy and smeared with blood, as is his face. She can already see a bruise form on his cheek and he has a split lip. And together with his black eye, she knows he has had a hard time fighting his enemy. Her eyes travel down his bare torso, scanning over all the bruises. But the worst injury the dwarf has, is a stab-wound in his abdomen. Though how severe the wound it, she can not tell. Stitches are placed skilfully, keeping his skin together.

'Oh Kíli, what happened to you,' Várar asks as she gently strokes his head.

A hand reaches out for hers and she lets out a surprised shriek, pulling away her hand as fast as she can. But the hand has a firm grip on her wrist, preventing her to pull away.

'I'm sorry,' she hears a croaky voice say and she finds a pair of brown eyes looking at her. 'I'm so sorry, Várar.'

Kíli winches in pain as he tries to sit up straight, ignoring her pleas for him to lay down.

'I tried – really I tried! But I just... I just couldn't save her.'

Várar tries to fight back the tears that are trying to come out, as she follows his gaze to a bed on the other side of the bed. She had know it right from the moment she had seen her brother's face. When he had looked heartbroken at the tent, Várar had know. Yet she didn't want to believe it. That is why she had refuses to look further than Kíli's bed.

But now her eyes travel over to the other side of the tent, her vision blurred by her tears. Her fiery hair, that's the first thing Várar sees of her best and most trusted friend. Her always smooth and silky auburn hair Várar had always been jealous of. But now it is smeared with blood, as it lays around her body.

Her fair face pale, the small thin cut across her cheek a contrast against the rest of the skin. Her lips no longer holding the kind smile the she-elf usually wears. Her chest remains motionless, even though Várar prays for even the slightest rising and falling of it.

A sob escapes her throat as the tears finally fall down. Slow at first as the dwarrowdam still fights to hold them back. But then she finally gives up the losing battle, causing the tears to cascade down her cheeks faster.

How can it be? How can Tauriel be gone? The she-elf was suppose to outlive her! She'll always be around to protect her, she had told Várar herself!

She feels rage build in the pit of her stomach as she looks at the lifeless form of Tauriel. Rage for Thorin, who so desperately needed to reclaim that mountain of his. Rage for the dwarves for crossing paths with her!

Her hands start to shake as she stares at the motionless body of Tauriel, as the rage keeps on building. Not only because of the dwarves, but also because of her father. If he only hadn't banished her. If only he could see past their races, to see Tauriel to be in love with Kíli.

If only...

If only...

If only...

She lets a sob escape, wiping away some tears – only to have them replaced by new ones. If only is all that remains now. And nothing will change that. No 'if only' will bring back Tauriel.

Another sob.

And it isn't fair of her to blame the dwarves, nor her father. The fault isn't theirs. Nor is it Várar's. Though it feels like it is her fault. She should have been there with Tauriel, fighting the orcs. But then again, Fíli would have died if she had stayed. The thought of losing the dwarf equally painful.

A heaved breath, a hiccup due to a suppressed sob, then yet another sob. She has to stay strong, she will not break down! She is a dwarf, for Aulë's sake!

She brings her hand to her face, wiping away her tears again. And another. And another. Her vision becomes blurry as she keeps on looking at the body of her best friend. For that is what Tauriel has been to her these past years. Her best friend. And now she is gone.

Forever gone! Never to see another sunrise again.

Várar straightens her back, as her vision clears at last. The beautiful face of Tauriel the first thing she sees clearly. Her eyes closed.

'May there be a beautiful welcome for you in the home you are going to,' Várar whispers the blessing, before gently placing a kiss upon the elf's brow.

As Várar is about to straightens up again, she cannot help herself. Not being able to stay strong, she finally gives in to the deep sorrow she feels within. With a cry of agony, Várar sinks to the ground. Her hands holding her head as she cries out loud. The immense emotion sending shivers down the spine of everyone near enough to hear.

A/N

Are you crying right now? Come on, be honest. Or perhaps you are laughing? Glad to be rid of Tauriel? Honestly, I liked Tauriel, but I felt it she no longer had any purpose for the story. I mean, let's be honest, Thorin would have never allowed an elf to live in his kingdom and Kíli would never leave his family behind.

Anyhow, I'm sorry it's so short. I was going for an emotional chapter, and that emotion would have been lost if I had added more.

Well, I hope you liked it anyway. Just let me know in a review.