In Time

Chapter One

If Thorin Oakenshield lived to tell the tale, the first thing he would do is recommend against being run through. There were no words to describe the burning—no, searing pain that came with having a sword blade split your flesh, your muscle. No words to describe the fire that accompanied that blade. There were none. It was agony upon agony, and death was the only welcome respite.

That thought, and that thought alone, propelled him to his feet. He staggered slightly, the burn in his gut almost unbearable. It took every ounce of will he possessed to remain upright as sweat and blood mingled to streak his face, his belly beneath his tunic, in sticky red ooze. He ignored it, his focus on Azog the Defiler, the filth he would gladly wipe from the face of Middle Earth.

The Orcrist glowed brilliant sapphire, as it would whenever in the presence of orcs or goblins and Azog's howl rang out across the frozen sheet of ice upon which he lay as Thorin rammed the Orcrist deep into the orc's belly. His arms burned. His back and gut burned. Every muscle twitched and danced as he used all the strength Mahal bestowed upon him to shove the blade deeper. Deeper still, until suddenly it gave and went through the ice itself.

He watched the light go out in the Defiler's eyes. Watched the massive pale body go limp. Watched as the blood poured from his wounds to stain the ice. Watched as the Orcrist went from sapphire to silver. Watched and yet felt nothing. He was numb inside. Numb but in agony just the same.

He couldn't breathe. At least, not deeply. Sweat rolled off him. Prickled along his back, over his chest. Standing grew so very difficult, as every breath was like breathing fire. Deep breaths were impossible. Shallow ones didn't offer up enough air.

The shouts echoed in Thorin's ears as he staggered back from the orc. Dwalin. Bilbo. Tauriel the she-elf. He did not hear Kili. Nor Fili. His gut kinked and the blood seeping from it had nothing to do with it. Where was his nephew? Had he failed Kili? He'd heard Kili howl with pain, but could not see him. Mahal, please... please let at least one of his nephews survive...

He straightened up. He knew were Fili was. He'd been impaled by the Defiler and tossed from the tower as if no more than a discarded toy. With every blink, he saw Fili fall in slow motion, his arms and legs limp, his entire body limp. With every heartbeat, Thorin heard the muffled yet solid thud of Fili's body hitting the stone. He'd failed to protect him, and because he failed, Fili paid with his life.

He didn't want to see any more, nor hear any more. It was over. He backed away from Azog, ignoring the halfling as he rushed toward him. He offered the hobbit his back as he plodded toward the edge of the floe, overlooking the sea all the way to the ends of Middle Earth.

"Thorin!" The hobbit's voice was faint, as if he stood so very far away and not less than a yard from him.

Thorin's legs betrayed him, his knees going to sponge. They hit the ice with the same dull thud as Fili had, and he couldn't hold back his low moan of pain as everything inside him screamed in agony. He fell back, staring up at leaden sky. A faint, shrill cry of birds rang through his ears. He wanted only to close his eyes. He was cold. His thoughts refused to form coherently.

The halfling was there, kneeling beside him. "Hang on, Thorin. The eagles... the eagles are coming."

"Farewell, Master Burglar," he managed to shake his head, "go back to your books, and your armchair. Plant your trees and watch them grow..."

"No... Please, no..."

Thorin managed a smile. "If more people valued... home above gold... the world... would be a merrier place..."

Then everything went black.