Flames

3.7

The sounds of a distant fight slowly roused Azalea from her sleep. As the gray returned to fill her vision, she pushed herself up groggily. She crawled around, trying to find her sword. She now regretted leaving her bow and arrows in the tent. She grabbed her sword, or what she hoped was her sword, and stood up. She tried to follow the sounds of the fight.

The sounds seemed to be getting closer. She hid behind what she hoped was a large rock. The fight was behind the rock, that much she knew. Who was fighting, she couldn't say.

Everything went silent. Was it over so soon?

Something cut through something else, maybe ice? Someone cried out in pain. Who's out there?! Azalea thought.

Then, it was quiet. Azalea decided to do the stupid thing and risk it.

"Hello?" she called out.

A moment passed. Azalea thought she was about to be attacked and/or killed.

Then, a weak, all-too-familiar voice called back, "Azalea?"

Azalea closed her eyes and tried to melt into the rock. No. Not him. Why does it have to be him?

Azalea opened her eyes and left her hiding place.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Behind you," he replied.

She turned around. She knew he could see her. In that moment, she wished she could see him.

"How far away are you?" she wondered.

"A few feet," he said.

Azalea couldn't control herself anymore. She ran to him. She ran into him, and he returned her bone-crushing embrace.

"I'm sorry," Thorin whispered. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she replied. "I understand."

"I'm sorry."

Thorin stopped supporting himself. Azalea was the only thing holding him up.

"Thorin?" she asked. Her knees gave out and they both fell. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I'm really glad you can't see right now," he said.

"What's wrong? What happened?" she asked.

"I'm dying."

"No," she muttered. "No, you're not going to die. You can't."

Thorin chuckled. Through the weak laughter, he said, "I didn't...I didn't know you cared so much."

Footsteps pattered across the ice.

"Thorin? Oh no," Bilbo breathed.

"Master Baggins," Thorin muttered. "I'm glad I get to see both of you again."

"No, you're not going to die, Thorin," Bilbo said.

"If more people valued food and merriment over gold, the world would be a much merrier place,"* Thorin said.

Azalea couldn't fight back her emotions anymore. A sob escaped. She couldn't cry. The dragon had taken that ability from her. However, dry sobs still wracked her body. A hand pressed against her face. She pressed her hand against his, holding it there.

"Do not cry for me, Azalea," Thorin requested. "I am not worth your tears."

"I think I decide that for myself," Azalea replied. "You've earned them."

"I shouldn't have said any of those things I said in the mountain," he said. "I still wanted you to stay. I still love you."

"I love you, too," Azalea whispered around the lump in her throat.

"Bilbo, plant your tree. Watch it grow," he said to Bilbo.

"Thorin, look. You're not going to die. Look, see? The eagles are coming," Bilbo pointed out, desperate to keep him awake.

Thorin's hand fell from Azalea's face. Bilbo began sobbing openly.

"No," he and Azalea both whispered. Azalea still held Thorin's hand. Emotion shook through her entire frame.

She heard others walk onto the ice. She heard several cry out "No!" but it all sounded underwater. Azalea's head swam. This didn't feel real. It couldn't be real. He couldn't be dead. This couldn't be real.

But it was.

*Direct quote