I do not own any of the characters or the Hobbit (just the AU storyline and my OC) those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fan fics would not be in existence.
Please review! I love getting them-they keep me encouraged J
Warning- this is a continuation of last chapter, so there will be some graphic descriptions of post-orc violence. Please be forewarned.
Kili roughly shoved the orc's body aside, before dropping down to his knees next to the young woman's prone form, the bloody Oakenshield clattering to the ground beside him. Dark eyes searched her pale, tear streaked face worriedly.
"Cira?" he asked, moving his hand to the side of her head just behind her ear and tilting her face towards him. "Cira, can you hear me?"
She did not respond, and the young dwarf's gaze moved down to her neck, where a thin but steady stream of blood pulsed out of the small cut made by the orc's blade. Kili swallowed heavily.
One finger's width. If that stupid orc had his blade just one finger's width to the left, she would have bled out in a matter of minutes.
Once again, the young prince thanked Mahal that the spindly creature that had held her captive was a poor excuse for a warrior. Reaching down, the archer ripped a small section of the bottom of his tunic off, being careful to not take too much lest it cease to preserve her modesty. Pressing it to the cut on the side of her neck, he carefully reached his arm around the top of her shoulders, before gently lifting her torso off the ground and cradling her head on his shoulder.
"Cira?" he whispered, worry in his gaze as he did not perceive any head wound or other reason for her to still be unconscious. "Cira, please wake up."
A slight breeze ruffled the leaves and branches around them, and the young dwarf immediately reached out, drawing his knife from the neck of the dead orc. Dark eyes scanned their surroundings, listening intently, but the young prince did not hear anything other than a squirrel run overhead. Breathing a slight sigh of relief, the young dwarf set the knife down on the ground next to him, before reaching for the small rag once more, having dropped it in the process.
A slight moan sounded from his arms, and his worried gaze returned to the young woman in his arms. Bringing the bundled bit of cloth back to the cut, he watched her face intently as her damp eyes slowly cracked open, before shutting tightly as a groan sounded from her lips.
"Cira?" he asked gently, brow furrowed with concern. "Are you all right?"
Cirashala's eyes slowly opened again, but instead of focusing on the young prince, her gaze centered on the dead infant, still lying face down on the ground from where the yellow eyed orc had dropped the child's body. Wide blue eyes filled with tears as a sob escaped her, and the young prince could feel her entire body trembling.
Kili's gaze followed hers to the dead infant, the young dwarf swallowing heavily as his experienced eyes fully took in what had happened to the child and its mother. His own eyes filling with tears at the atrocity, the young prince brought a trembling hand up, gently turning her head away from the gruesome sight as he pulled her close.
"Shh," he whispered into her ear, trying his best to keep his shaking voice steady even as she sobbed into his neck. "It's all right." Cirashala shook her head, hand fisting into her tunic even as she hiccupped slightly.
"I-it's not all r-right," she sobbed, shoulders heaving slightly as she gasped for breath. "M-my girls are-are dead. M-my husband's d-dead. M-my family's gone, a-and it's…it's all my fault! I-it's all…my…"
Her voice had dropped to a whisper as she buried her face further into his neck, a new wave of tears rendering her speechless. Kili's eyes grew wide, and he shook his head.
"It's not your fault," he whispered, gently rubbing the back of her head. "You said it was a wagon accident—"
"I w-was driving," she interrupted, cutting the young dwarf off as she pulled away slightly, though she did not meet his gaze. "I-I could have p-prevented it. I-I should have paid m-more attention. I-I didn't s-see that-that drunk driver coming at us, a-and…by the time I s-saw him, i-it was too-too late…" The stunned dwarf stared at her with wide eyes.
She's blaming herself for their death, he realized, the young dwarf rendered speechless even as she rested her forehead on his shoulder, still sniffling and hiccupping. All this time, she's believed their death was her fault, and yet she still helped us. She still saved me and my brother, even when she was in so much pain. The same pain…that drove my grandfather and nearly my mother mad.
Cirashala felt warm arms pull her close, and subconsciously leaned into the touch, yearning for the comfort even though she didn't feel as though she deserved it.
"Oh, Cira," she heard Kili whisper into her hair, her face buried in his chest as he continued to gently rub her hair, his cheek resting on her head. "All this time, you've been hurting….and you-you never said anything."
"I-I didn't w-want to be a burden," she whispered. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't…I swore I wouldn't let it hinder me, and—" Kili cut her off.
"You are not a burden," the young dwarf said firmly, causing the stunned young woman to close her mouth abruptly in astonishment. "Don't let anyone ever say that about you." She pulled away slightly, teardrops still hanging from her eyes.
"B-but I…I killed them," she whispered, "They're gone…because of me." Kili shook his head, before cupping the back of hers, dark eyes meeting blue.
"It wasn't your fault," he whispered, his gaze dead serious. "Don't blame yourself. It was the drunk man driving the other wagon who killed your family, and it is his burden to carry, not yours. You deserve far more than that." She closed her eyes, before nodding slightly.
The young prince glanced toward the dead dwarves, before his gaze returned to her.
"We need to bury them," he said quietly. "So their bodies won't be dishonored any more than they already have been." Cirashala pulled away from the young prince, not missing the concerned look he gave her. Eyes landing once more on the babe's body, she swallowed hard, nodding.
This was not going to be an easy task.
XXX
The young woman stood slowly, blinking back tears as she squared her shoulders. Her back still burned, and her hand throbbed with pain, but she pushed it down as much as she was able, the adrenaline from her near demise at the hand of the orcs aiding greatly in that endeavor.
Kili glanced at the torn clothing of the dead dwarves, and turned toward Cirashala.
"See if you can find their best clothing," he said quietly, and she nodded, heading toward the overturned wagon.
Kili sighed heavily, before his eyes landed on the broken axe. The graves would need to be dug quickly, and from what he could discern there were no shovels about. His ribs throbbed heavily after falling asleep sitting up and then running and fighting the orc, but he pushed it down as best he could, determined to bury the dwarves with as much honor as he could.
Hefting the broken weapon, the young prince began to look for a section of ground soft enough that digging wouldn't cause further injury to his body.
XXX
Spotting a small, dark violet blanket first amidst the wreckage, Cirashala bent down to pick it up, before turning towards the naked infant. Crouching down in front of the babe, she slowly turned the child over, before placing the blanket underneath it.
As the gender of the child was revealed, Cirashala froze, breaths coming quickly even as tears filled her vision.
"No," she whispered, body trembling involuntarily. The blood drained from her face as all else around her faded into the background.
The tiny babe…was a girl.
XXX
The young prince had found a section of ground free from dead orcs and wargs that appeared to be a little softer than the surrounding area, and had just begun to dig with a great deal of difficulty, when a sharp intake of breath made him pause. Turning quickly with a barely disguised wince, his eyes widened at the sight before him.
Cirashala had taken the tiny babe, wrapping it in a violet blanket, and now cradled it near her chest. Her eyes were blank as she stared at the tiny bundle, and Kili recognized the same look on her face that some warriors had when memories of old battles surfaced.
This was a bad idea, the young dwarf thought to himself, sighing heavily. I should have taken care of the bairn first.
Lowering the axe, he made his way towards her, before slowly crouching down in front of the pair.
"Cira?" he said hesitantly, brow furrowed with concern as he reached towards the child. "M-maybe I should take the babe and lay it next to its mother—" Her grip tightened on the child as she looked at him, eyes glistening.
"Her mother," Cirashala whispered, causing Kili's eyes to widen even as his face drained of color. Swallowing thickly as he looked down at the child, he was almost startled at the sight. Aside from the deep purple hue of the child's skin, the babe could have been sleeping.
"No," he whispered, letting out a shuddering sigh even as his eyes glistened. "Not a…"
Female children were fairly rare among dwarves, accounting for only about a third of the whole population. Sons were praised, but daughters were cherished as fine treasures. It was considered very good luck to have a daughter, and the young dwarf could only imagine the overwhelming grief that her mother must have endured to see her daughter killed before her very eyes.
The young prince could barely hold back his tears at the loss of innocent life before him, but as he looked up at Cirashala, he blinked them back.
Two girls, he realized, eyes growing wide as he fully realized the pain of her loss. She had two precious, beautiful daughters and she lost them both.
"She should be with her mother," he whispered, once more reaching for the babe. Cirashala tightened her grip again, looking up at him with eyes slightly wild as she gasped.
"No," she whispered almost inaudibly, "Don't take her away from me."
Kili froze, not sure what to do. He had seen this sort of thing before, but it was always with warriors. He knew to not startle a warrior awake, or, depending on the warrior to not startle him at all. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, Cirashala blinked, her eyes clearing. She glanced up at Kili, then back down to the babe.
"Mizimel," she whispered in Khuzdul, earning a confused look from the young prince.
"Mizimel?" he asked, completely bewildered and wondering if she had gone back into memories again. She stroked the babe's cheek, before looking up at him, blue eyes clear.
"Aye," she whispered. "Her name is Mizimel. She should not be laid to rest without a name." Kili's eyes widened, the stunned dwarf at a loss for words.
"The jewel of all jewels," he whispered after a moment, and she nodded.
"Children are the most precious gift of all," she whispered, holding the child close. "They are the jewel of all jewels, more precious than mithril and more beautiful than diamonds. She is worth more than any treasure in the world."
The young prince looked at her with wide eyes, his respect for her growing tenfold. To give the dwarf child such a beautiful Khuzdul name, to view her as such a treasure, and to give her the honor of not being buried nameless- Kili could not believe it. He nodded.
"Aye," he whispered, laying his hand gently on Cirashala's shoulder as he smiled at her, dark eyes shining. "Little Mizimel shall rest in her mother's arms."
XXX
Kili stood up, gently grasping Cirashala's upper arm as he helped her to her feet. Bringing his hand up to the infant, he looked the young woman in the eye.
"Can you see if you can find her mother's best dress?" he asked, glancing toward the wagon. "And her father's best tunic. They shouldn't be buried in rags." She nodded, before glancing down at the babe.
"Can I have her now?" he whispered hesitantly, knowing that she only had one hand to work with and hoping that the flashbacks of the accident that took her family were over. Cirashala nodded, taking a deep breath before handing Mizimel over to the young prince.
Kili cradled the babe like she were made of glass, almost as though he were afraid of breaking her. If Cirashala weren't so overcome by grief, she might have chuckled at his slightly terrified expression. The young prince held her with a white knuckled grip as he headed towards her parents, and the young woman turned, entering the tipped over wagon.
She picked her way very carefully through the shards of broken pottery and crates, keeping an eye out for any fabric. Spotting a corner of brightly colored fabric sticking out from under an overturned crate, the young woman reached out, turning the wooden box over carefully.
Two dresses, two pair of trousers and three tunics fell out of the open end of the crate, landing in a heap on the ground. Picking what appeared to be the dwarves' best quality clothing, she reached out and lifted them off the ground.
Several mice suddenly scurried out of the pile of fabric, causing Cirashala to jump back with a slight shriek, bumping her shoulder on the edge of the wagon in the process. Outside the wagon she heard Kili's axe still.
"Cira?" he asked, voice concerned. "Are you all right?" She could hear footsteps approaching the wagon even as she shook out the clothing, hoping there weren't more mice in them.
"I'm fine!" she replied quickly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. I told Thorin I wasn't afraid of a bloody dragon, for heaven's sake. And here I am jumping because of a few mice.
Kili peeked into the wagon with a concerned expression, hand on the hilt of his knife.
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking around the wreckage with narrowed eyes.
"There were just a few…residents in the clothing crate," she muttered, avoiding eye contact. She finished shaking out the clothes, before making her way to the opening. Kili moved aside to let her pass, and glanced down at the clothing, nodding his head in approval.
"Hand me the tunic and trousers," he said, holding out his hand. Cirashala nodded, relinquishing the male clothing to the young dwarf. Kili glanced up at her then, before looking back down at the clothing, flushing slightly.
"W-would you dress her first?" he asked, gesturing toward the dwarf woman. "I can't-I have to turn around. It's not proper…" She nodded.
"Aye," she replied, moving toward the dead woman.
Getting the old clothing off wasn't much of a challenge once she asked Kili for his knife, but getting the new dress on was quite another matter entirely. Stiffening had already set in, so it was quite difficult for Cirashala to dress the corpse, especially one handed.
Eventually she managed, though a sheen of sweat graced her forehead afterward. Her back continued to burn, and the young woman gritted her teeth against the pain, hoping that Kili didn't notice.
"I am done," she gasped out, relieved that it was done.
XXX
Kili had turned his back after handing Cirashala his knife, and began to dig at the stubborn ground once again.
His ribs cried out at the movement, but he buried the pain as best as he was able. It was his duty as a prince of his people to ensure that these dwarves were buried with as much dignity and honor as he could afford them, and he would not fail in this task.
He knew that they were Longbeards, that much was evident by the dwarf man's full, thick beard that fell down to his waist. But even if they had been from another clan, Kili would have done the same thing. Growing up, he had seen how Thorin would often be asked to preside over funerals of victims taken by orc raids, mine tunnel collapses, and other such catastrophic events.
He had learned a lot in his lessons about the duty of being a royal amongst his people, though his brother, had undoubtedly learned a great deal more than he, being heir to the throne unless Thorin were to have children of his own. The young prince almost chuckled at the thought of Thorin ever attempting to woo a dwarf maid, and highly doubted he ever would.
The thought of Thorin quickly sobered his thoughts, and he glanced at the Oakenshield tied once again to his belt. A sudden thought made its way to the surface, and the young prince's eyes widened in astonishment even as his face paled.
I used it, he thought to himself, barely able to breathe as the full realization of what he had done hit him. I actually used it to kill an orc. A stupid orc, but an orc nonetheless.
His heart raced, and his inability to breathe became even worse in his shock. Thorin's most prized possession, a testament to his bravery and skill in battle, and he had used it to bash in the skull of an orc. Kili hung his head in shame.
I-I can't believe that I used the Oakenshield like that-as a mere club! Mahalu-me turg, uncle's going to kill me.
His chest continued to tighten, and the young dwarf blinked in bewilderment. His brow furrowed as he stilled his movements, before slowly looking down at his torso, feeling the increasing pressure.
S-something's not right. I-I really can't breathe….
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot up his ribs, and the dwarf fell to his knees with a strangled cry.