Author's Note: If you have not yet read the books, be warned there are spoilers in this segment of the story. Major spoilers. I don't know yet how this will measure up to the film version as I am really skeptical about how it will turn out based on some of the rumors that have been flying the past few months, including some ominous postings by Richard Armitage regarding Thorin's fate. You've been warned!
Suggested listening for this chapter (in this approximate order): "Boadicea," "Pax Deorum," and "Athair Ar Nearmh" by Enya, "Village Lanterne" by Blackmore's Night
Date: TA 2941
Thorin: 195 years old
Lina: 192 years old
"Inter spem curamque, timores inter et iras
omnen crede diem tibi diluxisse supremem:
grata superveniet quae non sperabitur hora."
Translation:
"Amid the hope and worry, the fear and anger
believe that each day which breaks is your last:
the unhoped for hour will be a welcome surprise."
~ Horace's Epistles, Book I, Epistle IV, lines 12-14
Lina surveyed the battle from her relatively safe perch on the cliffs opposite the gates of Erebor. A screen of rough, scrubby brush kept them mostly out of sight. Across the valley, she could see the continuous stream of Elvish forces pouring down from the heights on which Thranduil once refused the dwarves aid. Their glittering armor caught in the sun as they danced gracefully through the black hordes around them.
The survivors of Smaug's attack on Laketown fought with grim determination beside the Elves. Their armor was rough and ill-fitting, weapons fashioned from farm and fishing tools. Should the battle go in their favor, they stood to regain the city of Dale, the only option left to them after the destruction of Laketown. What they did not have in battle training that the Elves and Dwarves had, they more than made up for it in tenacity.
Farther away, Lina could just make out the armies of Dain and Kira struggling to unite. Dain's heavily armored warriors made the ground shake when they marched together. Their heavy armor made them slow in battle, but sturdy. The arrows of the enemy bounced almost harmlessly from his army. Gaps in the armor were fortified by leather and chainmail, an attempt to minimize the casualties that brought so many down at Azanulbizar.
For the moment, Lina's tiny band stayed out of the fray. Her berserkers worked to keep their battle rage at bay for the moment as they fended off any orcs who happened upon them. The line breaker and heavy skirmishers aided their comrades while their commander worked to maximize her group's effectiveness. Kes darted in and out of the fray, pulling their wounded allies to safety, mostly Men and sometimes an Elf. Lina's healer worked feverishly to deal with what he could. The beast handler and one of the skirmishers worked at the healer's assistants. Nes stood quietly near Lina, her eyes searching for any threat to the pregnant commander.
Lina, however, searched for ways to utilize her mage. A set of landslides from the sides of the Lonely Mountain crushed those orcs who made an early attempt at battering down Erebor's gates. At least four trolls met their end buried alive by the earth mage's manipulations. The sudden openings in the earth kept the orcs from charging any opponent effectively.
Still, in the heat of the battle, there was no sign of Bolg. His misshapen warriors hacked away at the loosely united armies of Dwarves, Men, and Elves.
The lines were faltering. While the initial strategy to lure in the orc and goblin armies into a trap had worked, the Men and Elves soon discovered just how outnumbered they were. Too many were falling beneath the swords, clubs, and stones of the black horde.
As Lina's mage prepared to collapse another section of earth, horns began to sound on the ridge behind the Elvish lines. The already trembling earth fell into a steady rhythm. Lina felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Fear gripped her heart as the all too familiar horn sounded again.
"It's not possible," she breathed. Her eyes shot to Nes. The assassin's face drained of blood as she realized what was happening. Even the twins had not been able to discover this part of Bolg's plan.
"Get your brother," Lina barked, "I want to know if we are in immediate danger in this position."
Nes sprang into action diving into the fray and returning with her brother. They vanished into the rocky maze created by the mage's attacks.
"Find a way to collapse the ridge before the two forces can be joined," the warrior commanded her mage. The first line of the enemy appeared as the Elvish archers on the ridge fell. Wargs danced at the forefront, their first taste of blood fueling their desire to kill. The banner beneath which the goblins rode bore the device of the Great Goblin, slain by Gandalf and Thorin in the tunnels beneath the Misty Mountains. Besides them rode orcs under Bolg's banner. At their front, Bolg himself appeared.
"There are no scouts, no enemy behind us, Lady Firehammer," Kes spouted as the siblings reappeared before her. She just nodded.
The second army of the orcs and goblins swept down on the faltering army of Free Peoples. The lines shuddered and broke as the two black armies converged to crush the allies between them. Gasps went up from the wounded who could still see as their friends and family were swept away in the black flood.
Dain and Kira's armies were the least impacted by the new additions to the melee. Yet, as they saw the Men and Elves being decimated, they too faltered. The battle was quickly becoming a rout. The Men of Laketown began to flee. They were not trained for war. Indeed, in their lifetimes, they had never seen more than the briefest of skirmishes with the dark horrors of Mirkwood. The Elves attempted to regroup as their ancient enemies slaughtered them.
"My lady! Look!" The mage pointed west. Silhouetted against the sky were large, dark shapes, soaring toward the battle.
"The Eagles," Nes breathed in relief. She remembered the rescue in the Misty Mountains far better than her commander. The hatred between the Eagles and Goblins was plain.
Some spirit returned to the Men as the first boulder crashed down upon the black horde from above. They rallied around a line of bowmen whose courage had not faltered with the turning tide of battle. Though the battle lines were once more evening out, the Free Allies had not the spirit for victory. Men and Elves fought for the fear and hatred of the enemy presented to them. The Dwarves fought, ostensibly, for Erebor. Yet even their determination waned.
Both Dwarven armies had homes far from the Lonely Mountain, and halls in which their family and friends dwelt in comfort. The dream of Erebor, for many, was just that: a dream. Dreams of the treasure halls and the vast mines were created from the stories passed down by the old ones. Even in Dain's army of warriors seasoned in the Battle of Azanulbizar, it was likely none had ever seen Erebor in its glory. Even their commander had never seen the vast city as it once was, bustling with trades of every kind and brimming with wealth.
Lina's warriors shifted restlessly behind their makeshift wall of bushes, concealing them from view. To attack as small as they were would be suicide. Simply guarding their commander from harm while their distant kin and allies fought and died for them was a bitter pill to swallow. They looked to their leader for guidance.
As the veteran warrior regarded the battle, a second rumbling shook the earth. Stones began to tumble from the face of the mountain, breaking apart the wall which had served to protect Thorin's small band since his arrival. At Lina's sharp look, the mage shook his head. He was not to blame.
Fear pierced Lina's heart. Thorin would not be so foolish, not when he knew the odds. She struggled to send her spirit out to him, to warn him, to stop him if she could. The sight inside the mountain made her throat close with emotion. Arrayed in armor he had been born to wear, yet never worn, stood Thorin. Gone was the armor Lina had so lovingly tended back in the Blue Mountains. In its place was heavy metal plate, trimmed in gold. The heavy crown of Erebor which once rested on the brow of Thror now rested upon Thorin's. After nearly two hundred years, her husband's face did not seem to fit beneath it. Not the Thorin she remembered. What struck her most was the disappearance of his belt buckle. The buckle he'd worn every day since his twenty-four birthday was missing. Her token of protection to him was gone.
Standing beside their uncle, Fili and Kili wore armor similar to their uncle's. While Thorin once trained in such armor, the boys had never had cause to. Lina's plated leathers were all they had ever used. They would not know that the armor they now wore was far heavier than what they trained in. Their speed, their agility, their normal fighting styles, all would be useless as the heavy metal plates wore them down. Only Dwalin, of all Thorin's companions, was truly accustomed to such armor.
"Thorin! Do not do this," Lina pleaded as her husband turned to face his companions. The wall defending the gates of Erebor had crumbled, and he prepared to charge into battle.
"The people will fight for the rightful King of Erebor!" he declared. Whether he spoke to her or his small band, he gave no indication.
The shuddering of the earth as the great gates opened sent Lina's spirit flying back into her body. All eyes on the field turned toward the Mountain. The King emerged to defend his claim, his warriors arrayed in the finest armor Dwarven smiths had ever produced. His banner flew from a spear Bifur bore. A dwarven horn sounded as the small band pierced deeply into the melee, driving toward Bolg and his massive defenders.
Memory superimposed itself over Lina's vision. In Kili's place stood Frerin, his proud visage contorted with rage. Fili with Ona's brother. Tears of fear and anger bit at the corners of her eyes.
Shaking her head to clear her vision, Lina turned to her warriors. Her gaze fell upon Nes, who, guessing her leader's intention, shook her head vehemently. The commander ignored her.
"Berserkers," she called out over the din, "prepare yourselves for battle. We go to aid our King!"
"You two," she pointed out a pair of skirmishers, a husband and wife team, "stay with the healer and mage. Guard them as best you can while they continue their work."
"Nes, my armor needs tightening."
The assassin dared not argue with her, not now. She began tightening the straps.
"You will lose the babe if you do this," she hissed, not wanting the others to know their leader's state. "The likelihood that it will survive this is slim to none."
"The Dwarves need to be rallied. They are not rallying behind their King as Thorin believed they would. They do not know their King. Had he appeared as Thorin Oakenshield, hero of Azanulbizar, they would remember and follow. But he has chosen an image they have never seen before. They must be brought to his aid," Lina answered calmly. Her heart still beat wildly within her chest, but her thoughts were orderly. The dwarves of Dain's army, and many of Kira's, remembered Azanulbizar. They would remember her flaming hammer, and, she hoped, they would fight for her as they might once have for Thorin Oakenshield.
"If Thorin does not survive, I may not and all this will have been for naught. If he does survive, we may yet conceive again," she pointed out quietly.
Nes said nothing further, but handed Lina her war hammer. The head was doused in pitch.
"Light it on my command," she told her beast handler, "then release your dogs." The pair of vicious looking hounds snapped and snarled in the direction of battle as if to convey their readiness.
The assassins flanked Lina and her fellow line breaker. The berserkers stood just below her on the slopes, their battle lust reaching fever pitch as they awaited the final signal to attack. The remaining warriors closed behind Lina, to make the most of the openings left for them. At a nod, Lina's hammer was set alight and her horn sounded above the clamor.
Thrusting her hammer to the sky, she uttered a feral shriek and the battle cry of Azanulbizar.
"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!"
The lines of goblins and orcs shivered and shifted as they recognized the sight of a burning war hammer. Their wargs reared and began retreating as their great fear, fire, approached the battle lines. The curses of the black army echoed foully in Lina's ears as her hammer connected with what would be the first of many heads.
The Eagles seemed to catch on, recalling the way the wargs fled as the pines burned in the Misty Mountains. Flaming debris rained from the sky, sending the massive beasts into a panic. The fear caused by something so simple as a flame caused more damage to Bolg's army than all the swords and arrows before had done. Trolls were felled as the wargs bit and slashed at all who blocked their escape from the heat. A wide swath towards Bolg was cut by his own army in flight.
The Dwarves drove deep into the enemy, reaching Bolg's outer defenses with only two casualties. As the first guard fell beneath Kes's sword, Lina stumbled back. Her hammer swing faltered and the head smashed into the blood soaked earth. A terrible pain stole her breath, as if a spear had been plunged through her heart.
"No!" The line breaker sprang forward, her hammer once more shattering the bones of her enemies. Pain lanced through her shoulder, caused by an invisible arrow.
"I felt her die."
"No," Lina whispered fiercely, trying to ignore Tion's words in her mind.
The line of orc guards shattered before her. Bolg swung his mace. The massive head crashed into Thorin's battered and broken armor, sending the King flying. Tears blurred Lina's vision as, once more, Azanulbizar played out before her. Kili dove in front of his uncle, shouting in defiance. As one of Bolg's guard moved to dispatch the young dwarf, Fili intervened, pushing his brother out of the way. The spear head found the place at the joint of his neck and shoulder where the armor did not cover, the gorget having been torn loose in the fighting. The chain mail remaining split apart as the spear plunged into her nephew's body.
At Fili's dying cry, Kili battled forward once again. His rage and agony at his brother's death blinded him to the dangers all around him. An archer's arrow found the gap at the back of his left knee, sending the youngling staggering. Lina tried, as did her companions, to reach her wounded nephew. The orcs seemed to laugh at her anguish as they blocked her path, but not her view. A second arrow, this time to his other leg, sent the dwarf to his knees. Lina must have screamed, for Bolg merely smiled in her direction as he drove a spear through Kili's chest, shattering the metal plates with the force of his blow.
A great bear appeared as the large orc turned his attention to the wounded Thorin, lying, unable to move, against the boulder where he had fallen. A single swipe of his claws completely dismembered Bolg, while a second dispatched his nearest guards. Through the blood and arrows protruding from the massive beast, Lina could see Beorn. Though she had never seen his full bear form, she could only guess that it was him.
Beorn scooped up the unconscious Dwarven King and bore him away from the battle. With the death of Bolg, the black army began to crumble. Lina's band united with what remained of Thorin's company, driving back the enemy. The twins were forced to remain close to their leader as she refused to abandon her nephew's bodies. Any attempt to dislodge her from her vigil was met with violent resistance. The pile of orc and goblin bodies surrounding her grew to nearly a wall. Finally there were no more enemies to fight. No more to kill.
Familiar hands wrested Lina's hammer from her grasp. Her vision faded in and out as she dropped to her knees beside the still bodies of her nephews. Her hands trembled as she wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of Fili's mouth. Kili's dark eyes stared lifelessly up at the sky. Lina closed them, tears rolling down her cheeks. Nes lift her to her feet, tugging her away gently as Dwalin and Dori stepped forward to tend the bodies. Dwalin's eyes were bright with the tears he refused to shed. Balin did not bother to hide his sorrow as he embraced Lina. Dwalin lifted Fili into his arms, cradling the youngling as he would an infant. Dori followed with Kili. Lina and Nes trailed after them.
Gandalf awaited them at the gates of Erebor. His grey robes were torn and dirty, soaked with blood belonging to both enemies and allies. It did not appear he'd slept for many days. Yet it was the look in his eyes which frightened Lina most.
"Thorin?" she whispered, staring up at him. His own eyes filled with tears as he shook his head. Gesturing to a tent erected at the entrance to the citadel, he turned away.
Lina steeled herself for what she knew awaited her beyond the curtain. She could feel the emptiness in the corner of her mind Thorin's consciousness had always occupied. The mark upon her finger signifying her marriage to Thorin, once golden and alive with light, had gone black.
Pushing aside the flap of the door she found Bilbo sitting quietly beside Thorin's still body. Her husband's eyes were closed, a tiny smile graced his face as he rested peacefully. The Hobbit appeared to have cleaned away the worst of the blood and dirt on Thorin's face. The broken and battered armor had been removed, his body covered with a sheet to hide his wounds from Lina. She did not need to see them for she felt them with every breath she took. The arrow that had pierced his chest stabbed brutally at her heart. The club blow that crushed his ribs made it hard to breath.
"Lady Firehammer."
The whispered title brought her to the attention of the others in the tent. One of the Men of Laketown looked up from his brooding. Lina recognized his features as those of his forefathers, the Lords of Dale. Beside him, resplendent in his silvered armor, stood Thranduil. His sliver-blue eyes followed her closely as she approached her husband's lifeless body.
Bilbo stepped away from the body, bowing his head in respect. The others in the tent did the same before withdrawing. Lina stood alone before her husband's body. Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she struggled to draw breath. One last time, Lina sent out her spirit, searching for her husband.
"Just one last time," she whispered into the familiar darkness.
"You should not be here," a deep voice admonished from behind her. Relief washed over her even as tears filled her eyes. Lina turned to face Thorin. He stood before her just as she remembered him best. His dark hair hung loosely over his shoulders. A loose shirt covered the battle scarred chest. A dark leather belt hung about his waist, the buckle she made for him resting proudly in its proper place. A simple coat rested over his shoulders. He appeared just as he had the night they'd been joined before their friends and the Valar.
"I had to see you, one more time," she choked out. Tears streamed down her cheeks anew. Lina couldn't remember the last time she'd cried this much, or hurt this much. Thorin's arms folded tightly about her, just as they had in her dreams.
"I know," he murmured, kissing her forehead tenderly. "I know."
Lina held him tightly, remembering how he smelled, the sound of his heart, the feel of his beard against her skin.
"I'm pregnant," she revealed, looking up at him suddenly. His face brightened for one moment before the sadness returned. The familiar war of emotions played out across his face. The pride of finally having a child, any child to carry on his name, was clear. Yet there was sadness that he would not be there to raise it.
"You have to go back," he told her quietly. "Your time is not yet done. Our child must have a mother."
"Come back with me," Lina pleaded brokenly.
"I can't, you know that," he brushed the tears from her cheeks before kissing her tenderly.
"I will always be with you. I will never leave you, no matter what happens to me," Thorin promised, placing a gentle hand over her heart.
"I love you, Lina."
"I love you, Thorin." With those words, Thorin faded from sight.
Lina found herself once more in the tent beside her husband's body. There her companions found her several hours later, asleep from exhaustion, her fingers entwined in Thorin's.
Author's Note: This was the hardest chapter I think I've ever had to write. I hope what I felt as I wrote it comes across to you as the reader. There will be at least an epilogue, so please keep an eye out for that!
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read my work over the years. Thank you to the lovely reader who began the process of translating this story into German. And a special thank you to everyone who left me feedback! It means so much to me.