An Even Fifteen (Fili x reader)

(21) Spare Her

Fili's POV

I should have stayed with her.

It was all I could think as I carried her away from Ravenhill and Azog's corpse, her breathing labored and uneven, rasping in her swollen throat.

I should have stayed with her.

Her blood was everywhere. In her hair, spreading on her shirt, dripping from her mangled leg. On my hands-- it was on my hands.

I should have stayed with her.

She was on the line that separates life and death, teetering between the two. Which would she choose? Would she have a choice at all?

It was my fault. I shouldn't have let her leave the safety of Erebor. I shouldn't have left her with Thorin when we went to scout. I should have acted sooner, stopped the orcs before they had the chance to hurt her. I should have known it was a trap. I should have protected her. Did no one care for her safety but me? Did no one else care whether she lived or died?

"Gandalf!" I cried, my voice breaking on the wizard's name. "Help! She needs help!"

When Kili and I neared the wizard, his pale face grew as ashen as his disgracefully unkempt beard. He whispered her name reverently, reaching out to steady her head as I lowered her to the ground. In the background Thorin, Dwalin, and Bilbo dealt with a pack of goblins. Kili took a guarding position in front of Gandalf and I as the wizard assessed her injuries. He murmured words I did not understand, poking and prodding her. I resisted the urge to yell at him to stop, that he would only hurt her more, the effort of silence making my muscles tremble.

"She has lost much of her blood, and her injuries are grave." Gandalf looked up at me, his ageless eyes watery with concern. "I cannot heal her here. We must get her back to the valley, to the elves. Quickly. I shall carry her, you keep the foul creatures at bay."

I nodded in understanding, pulling my two swords from their sheaths at my back, still bloody from Azog, and held them at the ready. As we left, Legolas and Tauriel arrived, informing Thorin of the second orc army on its way. Kili sent me a solemn nod as he followed the elves, Bilbo, Dwalin, and Thorin to deal with the issue.

I felt the barest twinge of guilt walking away from them, but I couldn't leave her. Not now, not after leaving her so many times before. Not after feeling my heart clench in unbearable pain when Azog held my One out over the precipice by her lovely neck. I led the way down the mountain, calling to Roäc as I ran. When he appeared over my head, I asked him to find the Rhosgobels and take them to safety. He flew away with a deft swoop of his wings, cawing that he would find them for Wizard-friend.

As I cleared the path for Gandalf, I found myself realizing how swiftly Y/N had become dear to us. The company adored her. Roäc, who rarely associated with anyone outside of the royal family, was constantly by her side. What would we do if she was gone?

What would I do?

The question froze the blood in my veins, and I swung my swords with new ferocity. I refused to lose her. Not after I'd finally found my One.

We made quick work of the distance between us and the elven healers' tent in Dale. Gandalf shouted orders in Sindarin, and placed Y/N on a table. A blond elven healer rushed to the wizard's side and peeled her pants away from her injured leg. I approached the table and clung to her limp hand. It was clammy in my grasp, but it fit. It fit so well in mine.

Gandalf began a similar sort of healing on her leg as Tauriel had performed on my brother in Laketown. The elf healer approached me with a scowl, prying my hand from hers, sneering, "This is work for elves, dwarf. Your presence here impedes the healing." I shoved him hard, away from me and away from my One.

"I will not leave her," I snarled, ready to wipe the elf's smug look away with a swift swing of my fist.

As he moved to push me out of the tent, Gandalf shouted, "Her heart has stopped! Help, quickly!"

The healer hurried back to Y/N, placing his hands over her heart and pumping up and down. "Oh, Mahal. Spare her." The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. I drew back to her side and took her hand in mine again, bringing it to my lips as I pleaded for her life.

Breath came back to her with a coughing start. I sagged in relief as her eyes shot open and fixed on me. I murmured her name and smoothed back the hair from her face.

Suddenly, she spoke, in a voice quiet and mangled by Azog's brutality. "Fili, the heir of Durin with the heart of a lion," she rasped. "Stay with me?"

"I am here," I reassured her, leaning close as her eyes, still fixed on me, drifted shut. "I will not leave you, ghivashel."

"My Lionheart," she breathed as she went unconscious again.

Gandalf studied her with an odd expression. "Interesting," he muttered before continuing his healing.

The elven healer watched me with chagrin as I held her hand close. I glared, daring him to try and remove me again. He just sighed and turned to help Gandalf, saying, "Her light..." The elf's gaze went unfocused, as if studying something just out of sight. "It reaches out to yours." The surprise in his face might have been comical if Y/N was not lying half-dead on the table before us. "I suppose you must stay."

"Well thank you very much," I muttered snidely. I was sure the elf caught it with his keen hearing, but he ignored it, and I set to watching Y/N as they fought to keep her alive.

It felt like days, or eons, passed before Gandalf stumbled back from the table and another healer took his place. I hardly know. The second healer bent his head over her, and together the pale-haired elves repaired what they could of her injuries before stabilizing her. I spent the time watching her eyes moving beneath her eyelids, her fluttering lashes long and dark on her bruised skin. Even on the brink of death, covered in blood and dirt and bruises, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on. Better than any jewel in Erebor's treasure hoard. Fairer than any sunrise Arda had seen.

Finally, the healers stepped back and wiped their hands free of blood--her blood. "She is stable," the first healer said, "but she will need time. Her leg was badly injured, but we managed to save it. We cannot offer her much comfort here," he gestured to the tent now crowded with wounded elves, the copper smell of blood filling the air, "so if you can provide lodging in your mountain, you may move her tomorrow morning."

I nodded. "You have my thanks, khulum." I bowed with my free hand across my breast. He nodded in return, with something like respect in his eyes as he turned away to help his wounded kin.

A/N: Another Fili chapter for you! For some reason, his perspective takes me a lot more time to write. Well, I hope it came out all right. Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this chapter please give it a vote!
--RA

Khuzdul Translations:
ghivashel: "treasure of treasures"
khulum: "elf"