In a small room in the mountain the dying king lay struggling for breath, surrounded by his loved ones. The company had gathered together, drawing comfort from each other and awaiting the inevitable end. Their grief made them all the more aware of the one who wasn't there, hoping she was not alone with her pain and wishing they could have offered her the comfort she needed. They stayed together now, knowing they would not move until Thorin had breathed his last. They owed him that much for the sacrifice he had given them.
A slight commotion from outside the door brought some of their heads up, a few pausing to wonder who was so disrespectfully making noise. They heard the protests of Dain from just outside where he had promised to bar the room to unwanted visitors. "You can't go in there!" the dwarf shouted angrily, his voice cut off with a thump as he was shoved out of the way. The door swung open, revealing the surprisingly solemn form of Thranduil, another elf gliding behind him.
"What do you want now!" Oin cried in exasperation. "Couldn't you let him be at peace? Leave us to our grieving!"
The elven king's eyes flickered with emotion, his mouth a hard line. "If you get out of my way, you may not have to." Pain turned to a sliver of desperate hope, Fili and Kili staring up at the two. Oin was mouthing the king's response wordlessly, processing the lifeline that had been handed them. He finally cast aside his worry and suspicion, nodding sharply in acceptance and moving to create a space at Thorin's bedside. The king waved his companion forward, explaining his presence. "This is my chief healer, he has more experience than any elf I have met before, save for Lord Elrond perhaps." The healer offered no greeting, already busy examining the deadly wound, the spear haft still protruding from Thorin's chest. Tense seconds passed, feeling like hours as his small audience waited in hushed anticipation.
"He will live," the elf said at last, startling when Thorin's nephews surged forward to hug him in appreciation, sobs of relief choking off their words. He patted them awkwardly on the shoulders before turning to Oin. "You are his healer?" he asked. Oin nodded, awaiting his instructions. "Good, I will require your aid." He then rattled off a list of herbs and supplies he would need, sending not only Oin but many of the others scurrying to procure the necessary items.
Once he had what he needed he sent all but Oin from the room with a stern warning to keep quiet so he could focus. Thranduil had stayed also, positioning himself out of the way to ensure everything went well. A basin of steaming water was placed within reach, clean cloths and herbs beside it. Oin was frantically crushing up those the elven healer called for, of which athelas was the most prominent. Once the salves were prepared they readied themselves for the hardest part. With Oin carefully restraining the semi-conscious Thorin, the elf gently drew the spear out, effectively waking the king with a pained scream. It was testament to his great skill that he did not panic when the dwarf began weakly thrashing around, spilling more of his blood. He waited until his mouth was open and quickly administered a small potion, ensuring it was swallowed. Only moments later the king slumped back, knocked out for a time. Grabbing up needle and thread, he deftly stitched up the gaping tear in the lung before smoothing on the athelas and fixing the skin in the same fashion.
Up until this point Oin had begun to feel a little foolish, wondering if he had done this himself if Thorin might not be on the mend already. Then the healer began to chant in the flowing language of his people, drawing on a power and a light of such astounding beauty that the dwarf was instantly humbled. Though nothing seemed to change physically at first, the pain that lingered on the dwarven king's face gave way, sending him into a peaceful natural sleep. Slowly the wound in his lung must surely have been closing, for his breathing steadied, the rattling dying out with a soft sigh. Silence returned to the room and the brilliant light faded away.
The healer turned to Oin with a sigh. "He will rest now. You can expect him to awaken when that potion wears off, though I must insist that he remain in bed for at least a month to speed his recovery."
"Twill be difficult but I will make it happen. Thank you," Oin offered, a heartfelt smile on his face for the first time in days.
"With your permission, I will stay until he awakens," Thranduil announced, gracefully sinking into a nearby chair despite the fact it was far too short for him.
"That is fine. I will go tell the others the good news so they need not worry any longer." Leaving the elven king with Thorin, Oin stepped out into the hall, exchanging a final bow with the elven healer before they parted ways, the elf to return to the healing tents outside. Oin met with the anxious company, gathered in a nearby room. Many were pacing, but all leaped to their feet to face the healer when he entered the chamber. "He is sleeping now, you can all see him when he wakes," Oin said softly, careful to make sure sound would not travel back to his resting patient.
"Thank Mahal," Balin murmured, his brow smoothing.
Fili and Kili wept openly, smiles on their faces. "Oh I can't wait until auntie gets back, she will be so happy," they cried. "When do you think she will get here?" they wondered aloud.
"Doubtless within a year," Balin replied absently. "She did say she would be taking Bilbo home and then returning straight here with our people. Now that the road is safer it will not take nearly as long as it took us, even though she is going both ways."
"Do you think we should send word?" Ori piped up thoughtfully.
"We don't know where she is right now laddie," Balin reminded him. "Besides, it will not speed her journey. I do not think she will tarry on the road with women and children in tow. No, we will wait until she gets here, it will be a wonderful surprise."
When Thorin next opened his eyes it was to a sight he had not expected to see. Instead of the faces of his ancestors he was greeted by the contemplative visage of King Thranduil. He jerked back reflexively, hissing a curse when the stitches in his chest pulled and his lungs began to ache.
"What, how?" he muttered, pained confusion taking over.
"Relax," Thranduil admonished him gently, a wry smile crossing his face. "I'm not here to attack you."
"What are you doing here then?" the dwarf replied sardonically, one brow raised in question.
Oin bustled into the room in that moment, beaming at the sight of his patient annoyed and confused, but very much alive. "Thorin! Welcome back! Thranduil here had his chief healer pull you back from death itself. Were it not for him you would be in a very different place right now."
Thorin was now gaping at him quizzically, trying to figure out what motive the elf could be hiding. "Why?" "Not that I'm ungrateful," he hastened to add when Thranduil rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"I did not do it for you," he retorted insolently, pulling a pained laugh from the dwarf. "With this mountain reclaimed, it will need a strong leader on the throne. A job I am certain your nephews are not ready for. I do not wish to deal with the problems that would arise from a child risen too quickly to power."
Ignoring the veiled insult against his family he conceded the truth of Thranduil's admission. If he had died it was likely Dain would have had to take over until Fili was ready. It was too soon for his nephew to be placed in such a position. Mahal, he wasn't sure if even he was ready. "Thank you all the same," Thorin grunted, the closest he would get to properly showing his gratitude.
Thranduil shook his head wearily. "We fought together. It is my hope that our temporary allegiance may become a more permanent thing in future. It will save us both a lot of grief." Though the words had been forced out, there was genuine feeling behind them, however reluctant. In truth, Thranduil was tired. Tired of war, tired of hate, tired of the shadows that had fallen on his land. He could see that Thorin felt similarly. Luck had brought both of them a second chance in the form of a female elf from another world, and he was going to take that chance with the hope that the madness of Durin's line was gone. Leaving Thorin to contemplate the most civil discussion they had had in decades, he swept out of the room.
At his exit Oin invited the others in, cautioning them in a loud voice to be gentle with the recovering dwarf king. Fili and Kili bounced inside, settling themselves on the edges of the bed, careful not to jostle Thorin overmuch. Thorin looked around at them all, smiling as much as he was able while still processing the events since he had awoken. It took him a minute to register the distinct lack of a certain elven maiden, and he immediately sought answers.
"Where is Alanta?"
The group exchanged glances, looking worried. None of them wanted to break the news, though it was only temporary. It was Kili who finally spoke up.
"She left uncle. She wanted to see Bilbo home like she promised, and bring mum and the others back here."
Thorin relaxed at once, placated by the entirely logical response. He was a little sad that she hadn't at least waited to say goodbye before running out the door, but with winter blowing in he supposed speed was to be expected. He recalled a very faint memory of her voice, tinged with pain as she spilled out words of love and apology. It left him confused again. What was she sorry about, he was fine. "Why was she sorry?" he blurted out, voicing his thoughts aloud. He noticed the sad glances this time and grew more concerned. "What is it? Spit it out already."
"Lad, she thinks you died." Balin gently informed him. Instantly he felt his heart stop cold. The others were saying something more but their words fizzed at the edge of his consciousness, no more than irritating noise. She was wandering about, possibly alone, with no knowledge that he lived. If it had been her... he cried out in denial, heaving his legs towards the edge of the bed and almost knocking Fili to the floor.
"Whoa uncle, steady there. You're not to leave that bed for a month," the young dwarf said sternly. "She'll be back, she promised to bring our people home. Just think how happy she will be to return only to discover you here alive and well."
"You are certain?" he demanded.
"She has never broken a promise yet," Kili was quick to remind him. "Don't worry uncle, we'll see her again soon and then everything will be alright."
Thorin allowed himself to be settled back against the pillows, feeling exhausted by the small amount of effort he had put into trying to get up. Closing his eyes, he fell back asleep with his family around him, yearning for the day when his beloved would return.
Thorin thought he might go mad with boredom. Three weeks he had been stuck in a bed, unable to do anything but eat and sleep. He had been so anxious for something productive to dedicate his time towards that he had insisted Balin move his paperwork in so they could look over things together. The elder dwarf had complied happily, glad to find a way to keep his king distracted. The amount of work to do was astounding. Trade agreements were already being drawn up between Erebor, Mirkwood, and the newly established Dale. The dwarves of the Iron Hills had elected to stay the winter, adding considerable man power towards the physical labor jobs that were cropping up everywhere. Stone had to be shifted, rooms made habitable, treasure organized and doled out as needed. Thorin was determined to keep ahead of it all and not shirk his duties, no matter that he was still in sick bed.
The rest of the company was kept equally busy, each with their own jobs specially assigned by the king. Dori and Ori were working together in restoring the library. Dwalin and Nori had been recruited to take charge of the military side of things, including the beginnings of a royal guard. Thorin wasn't especially worried about this part, but there was always the risk of someone getting too big headed and thinking they knew better than he how to run the kingdom. He did not claw his way back from death just to become complacent. Balin was of course his personal adviser, assisting with all the paper work and diplomatic situations. Bombur had been put in charge of the kitchens and food stock, much to his delight, and he was doing excellently. Bifur and Bofur had crews working round the clock to open up mines and make the infrastructure safe. Gloin took over running the treasury organization, while Oin was made chief healer of Erebor. The old dwarf already had several new recruits among the iron hills dwarves who had indicated they would stay at least until the Ered Luin caravan arrived.
Fili and Kili had not been expressly given jobs, but they were constantly at their uncle's side, learning all they could from him and Balin about the many requirements to running a kingdom. They had been given some lessons back home, but they now found their education expanding at a frightening pace. First hand experience being the best teacher, as Balin constantly liked to remind them whenever they showed signs of boredom.
Months slowly passed, and Thorin rejoiced to be out and about on his own two legs. He was still forced to take things easy, but he had gradually begun to train again, working his muscles back into prime shape. He strode through the mountain halls, proud to see all that his people had accomplished in the short time they had been here. Debris had been cleared out of much of the halls, entire section of homes had been refurbished, and the royal wing once again echoed with life. He had been worried about taking care of the many bodies he knew were still entombed throughout the mountain, but thankfully Balin had seen fit to take that job off his shoulders. His people had been granted a proper burial while he was still abed, and he had visited the site as soon as he was on his feet, determined to pay his respects.
He was just headed to check progress in the mines when a horn sounded at the gates, announcing the arrival of visitors. Eager to greet them himself, he hurried to be one of the first out. Fili and Kili joined up with him on the way, each speculating who it could be.
They got to the gates and stopped short, awed and joyful at the sight of the veritable crowd of their people marching towards them. Most especially the raven haired dwarf at the head of the procession.
"Mum!" Fili and Kili shrieked, launching themselves towards her in a most un-princely fashion. She laughed heartily, grabbing them into her arms and squeezing until they were gasping for breath and trying to wriggle out of her grasp. Looking up from her ministrations, she stilled, turning the most odd shade of white. Thorin stared back, smiling uncertainly. He waited as his sister approached, wondering at her marked hesitation, forgetting that she didn't know the truth. Dis stared up at him, tears in her eyes, her face working through a myriad of emotions. It was to everyone's shock when she settled on righteous anger, giving the dwarf king a ringing smack. He staggered back, startled at her outburst.
"Dis, what..!?"
He got no further as the dwarrowdam began screeching indignantly at him, causing all those nearby to cringe. "Thorin Oakenshield how could you?!"
"What did I do?" he stammered, completely floored by the unexpected assault.
"I spend all winter thinking you are dead, and here you are prancing around in your kingdom without a care in the world! No word, all winter! You knew we were coming, you could have sent a message! Instead I come prepared to visit your tomb and all you can say is what did I do?!"
"I'm sorry," he replied softly. "I thought it would be a nice surprise?" he suggested, earning a mirthless laugh and another punch to the shoulder.
"I can understand if you had waited merely to tell me, but to keep your betrothed in the dark? That is unnecessarily cruel Thorin," she chided him, furious for the unneeded pain of her adopted sister. "And now you just may be too late," she added sadly.
"What do you mean?" Thorin pressed, suddenly afraid.
"She did not come with us. Said something about needing to heal the forest, but we both know why she really stayed away. How could you expect her to return when she thinks you dead?"
Thorin stared at her, pain stealing his breath away. Not here? That couldn't be right. He threw his gaze over the assembled dwarves, heartbroken when he could not see the one who would have stood head and shoulders above the rest. Striding back towards the mountain, his whirling thoughts all settled into one determined plan.
"Where are you going?" Dis cried, her protest echoed by many around her.
"I'm going to find her," he called over his shoulder. He took only a few minutes to throw together a pack, his weapons, and slung himself in the saddle of one of the ponies they still had, galloping down the path towards Mirkwood. Behind him Dis shook her head, stopping any from following after.
"Leave him be," she said softly. "He needs to fix this mess on his own."
Author's note: Yay for a Thorin chapter! Yay for Thorin not being dead, though I suppose you sharp folks probably guessed I couldn't kill him off. I'm not that mean and this was always meant to be a survival story. Now comes the unknown. I am still undecided as to where and when they are going to meet again, though rest assured it will happen within the next chapter or two, as I'm too impatient to wait longer. Also, Bilbo may make a small reappearance later, since he also doesn't know about Thorin and I cannot leave the poor thing in the dark. I know the chapters have been shorter, but I hope you enjoyed them all the same and thanks for reading! I do not know when the next chapter will be up, I will try and get my brain working again and we will see what happens. Until next time...