Kings and Masters

Chapter 2

Thorin fought Azog with everything he had. For everything this vile orc had done to him and his family, for everything it had planned to do, Thorin swung his sword for everything he had suffered. The pale orc had killed his grandfather in front of him long ago, and now, he had robbed Thorin of his heir, his eldest nephew.

The massive orc's strength was overpowering as Thorin met his blade with his own. The two clashed for a moment, and each impact drove Thorin backward before he finally toppled over, landing hard on the icy stone. Azog moved to bring his sword down on Thorin, but the dwarf rolled out of the way just in time. Azog struck again, and Thorin turned again. Back and forth as the orc tried to impale the dwarf, and the dwarf remained one step away from death. Finally, Thorin kicked out, throwing his whole weight against the back of Azog's knee. The orc lost his balance, and Thorin scrambled to his feet before Azog crashed down on top of him.

Thorin charged the orc and landed a blow, digging his sword deep into the flesh of Azog's thigh. Then, the orc grabbed him by the arm, yanking the blade out and roaring in pain as he stood up, the dwarf now dangling from his grasp. Thorin twirled around, Azog's vise-like grip on his arm causing him to grunt in discomfort as he tried to swing at the orc with his sword while he dangled. He suddenly felt white-hot pain in his side as Azog dug his clawed hook hand deep into the dwarf's body. Thorin gasped in pain as his blood mixed with Azog's blood on the ground beneath them.

Azog withdrew his hook and threw the dwarf against the massive stone pillars. Thorin groaned in pain as his back absorbed much of the impact. He crumpled into a heap as the orc advanced towards him. The pale orc picked up his sword and charged Thorin, ready to run him through and end him.

As the orc ran at him full speed, Thorin pulled his own sword out and got to his feet. The two impaled each other simultaneously on one another's sword. Thorin felt the blade enter his torso just under his ribcage while his own blade struck Azog right through his massive chest. The pale orc let out a defeated roar and slid off Thorin's sword, toppling over backward, lying lifeless at the dwarf king's feet.

Thorin sighed in relief. The pale orc was finally defeated. He gasped out a few times as he pulled Azog's blade out of his body. He staggered away, the pain slowly replacing adrenaline now that the fight was over. The wounds in his torso both poured with blood and his back screamed in agony. He left a trail of blood as he staggered along, holding his injury.

"KILI!!!" he cried at the top of his lungs as he slowly lurched towards the complex where his nephews had been. The pain of Fili's death stung him even more now that the fight was over and he desperately needed to see that Kili had survived this.

"Thorin..." Thorin whirled at the sound of his own name and found Dwalin and Bilbo approaching him from the direction he was headed. Dwalin was quickly at his king's side, hurrying to help him walk.

"My sister-son... My Kili..." Thorin muttered as he leaned on Dwalin, eyes searching desperately for any sign of his youngest, and now, the only nephew.

"They're over here," Bilbo said, a grim look on his face. "This way." With Dwalin's help, Thorin followed the hobbit to the complex and down into the ravine where when he rounded the corner, he gasped in despair.

Fili lay where he had been thrown, unmoving. And draped across him was Kili, his head resting on his brother's chest. Both appeared lifeless, and blood stained the snow around them. "No... no..." Thorin pulled away from Dwalin and fell to his knees, raw emotion enveloping him at the sight. He crawled the distance to his fallen sister-sons.

The king didn't hide his tears that flowed from his face, and he choked a few sobs as he gently rolled Kili off of his brother and into his arms. He then pulled Fili into his arms as well. Their bodies were cold as he cradled them tightly in his arms. His strength left him just as his own blood and tears did and he slumped backwards against a pillar, buried his face in the mess of blonde and brown hair, and wept.

As Dwalin looked on with sympathy, it was Bilbo who refused to accept this. He knelt in front of the three durins and studied Fili and Kili carefully. His brow furrowed as he glanced over the stab wounds in Kili's stomach and Fili's side, both leaked with blood though it was beginning to dry. Blood dripped from both of their mouths. They both appeared to have passed on from this life, but only the hobbit's sharp eyes saw the ever so slight twitch of Fili's hand and only the hobbit heard the very faint whimper from Kili.

Bilbo's breath hitched in hope as he reached forward and pressed his finger to Fili's neck. The blonde dwarf's body trembled with the movements of his uncle's body as Thorin continued to weep, oblivious of the world around him. At first, Bilbo felt nothing, and he began to think that what he had seen was only his imagination. But then, he felt the very faint pulse, almost too weak to be felt. His eyes went wide in surprise, "He's alive!" he shouted loudly. "He's alive!"

Thorin glanced up at him, his face wet with tears. He blinked as if he hadn't quite registered what the hobbit said. Dwalin hurried over to verify what Bilbo had said, feeling for a pulse himself. "It's true..." he said incredulously. "Fili's alive. But barely, Lad. Let's lay him down and get him warm." Thorin said nothing, only gasped in surprise and hope as he relinquished hold of his oldest nephew as Dwalin pulled Fili gently from his grasp and laid the young dwarf out on the snowy ground in front of his uncle. Bilbo tore off a piece of his jerkin and dabbed at Fili's stab wound while Dwalin pulled off his own cloak and draped it over him.

Bilbo hurried back to Thorin and turned his attention to Kili, hoping against hope as he pressed his finger to Kili's neck as the youth lay in his uncle's arms. Kili's pulse was slightly stronger than his brothers, but they were both still in the land of the living. Bilbo gave Thorin a reassuring smile, "You haven't lost them," he said, though he knew that Fili and Kili's injuries were severe and their newly found hope could quickly return to despair and grief.

"Keep him warm too," Bilbo said, taking his own jerkin off and draping it over Kili. He noted that Thorin had begun to turn pale himself, he noted the blood seeping through his armor. Thorin was unconcerned, ignoring his own wounds, as he only had eyes for his sister-sons. But his body was beginning to weaken, and in this freezing weather, they were all in danger. Bilbo glanced to Dwalin. It was up to the two of them to care for the king and his princes.

"Can we carry them?" Bilbo asked, glancing around them. He knew full well that he didn't have the strength to carry a full-grown dwarf, much less three. Dwalin shook his head, "The trip to Erebor would take too long," he said, "They'd never make the journey."

Bilbo tried to think. He refused to let go of this newfound hope, but as the evening began to descend and the temperature dropped even further, he worried they were only delaying the inevitable. He shivered and then, his sharp ears picked up on the best noise he could have heard. "Eagles!" he gasped. He glanced to Dwalin who was diligently caring for Fili, then turned to Thorin and gasped. The king's strength had finally given out, and his grip on Kili loosened as he succumbed to darkness. The last thing Thorin heard before passing out was the cries of eagles on the wind.