Eclipse of Hearts ✔

Chapter 85. [Thorin]

Thorin tried to focus, but his thoughts wandered to Alyssae. He believed he had seen her for a moment, in her shining armor, but an angry elf had demanded his attention and even though he tried to find her since, he hadn't found her. He knew what that meant. She had fallen. And nobody came upright in a battlefield like this. 
He however didn't want to believe it. Alyssae did not die in the blink of an eye. Not without him being aware of it, feeling it deep inside. 
Perhaps the ignorance was worse than the grief would be. Again and again he looked hopefully around, while his attention for his surroundings diminished. His arm was bleeding heavily, but the pain seemed far away and if he hadn't seen the blood, he would have believed it was nothing but a meaningless scratch.
He had to find her without leaving his post. He couldn't fall into the same trap again. He was hard for himself, telling himself that he couldn't do anything for her if she had fallen. But until he had proof, he had to believe she was still alive. All elves looked the same after all, and it was easy to miss her in this crowd.
Thorin couldn't convince himself. He would recognize her shape. The way how she swung her sword. The way she would jump back to dodge an attack. Every movement she had once made, was engraved in his memory. He stepped over the body of a fallen dwarf and let go of the thoughts about Alyssae. If she had died, he had to this.
In the meanwhile Thranduil had stepped off his muse, but since his armor lacked a helmet it didn't take long before he had found the elf king - although he was out of Thorin's reach. He stood a little away from the battle, as if he had already won, while they were actually a minority. Clearly Alyssae had gotten out of his sight as well. 
His fingers became convulsive and Thorin wondered if he could ever release his sword. The weight of his weapon seemed heavier than ever, but rage expelled his weariness within a moment. Kíli would lead this people soon. If Alyssae had died, what reason would he have to stay? The elf king had provoked this fight. All he had wanted was to see how Alyssae fell on her knees, pierced by a sword. 

With large stepped he walked to his archenemy. He was steadfast. He cared about nothing any longer, except his revenge. Somewhere in the back of his head a voice whispered he had made this mistake before, when he had cared for nothing anymore and had ran to Azog on his own. Bilbo and Alyssae had saved him - and now they were both dead. 
An arrow flung back on his shield. Another hid his lower leg, but was defended by the mithril. An elf jumped in front of him and Thorin immediately swung his sword forward, even before his enemy had found his balance, and he collapsed as a pudding. Thorin stepped over the corpse, his eyes aimed at Thranduil. 
He laughed.
Violently Thorin inhaled, full of the desire to freeze that cursed grin on his face. 
Again an elf crossed his path, but this time it wasn't that easy to get rid of it. Two swords swished toward him, and startled he jumped back. Bones splintered beneath his feet, but there were no screams. It was a corpse. One of the many the ground was covered with. 
He bend his knees a little while he held his sword ready. The elf circled around him. His bright blue eyes shone maliciously and the moment their eyes met, Thorin knew who stood before him. 
It was the son of Thranduil. 
"You never should have come here," Thorin grumbled. 
"You never should have came to our city."

That was true, but he never had had a choice. They had Fíli and they had been the only ones who could have saved Alyssae and Dwalin. 
"We never did anything wrong," Thorin insisted. "Your father is just insane."
Legolas laughed scornfully. "I've heard he is not the only one. Your whole bloodline is cursed."
Those words were a true slap in his face. It was not only an insult that correlated to his own behavior, it was also a sneer to the actions of his father and grandfather - and it was even a comment dat went for his daughter.
He swung his sword to the legs of his opponent and as soon as he saw that Legolas wanted to ward off the blow, he smashed his shield against the chin of the elf. Disorientated the elf did some steps back and Thorin burst out in a few forceful strikes, so that Legolas could do nothing but stumbling backwards.
Thorin did not restrain. He stabbed left and right, kicked at Legolas's feet and in the end he chopped in his femur. 
Legolas dropped down as if his muscles gave up and Thorin swung back his sword. Swift as an arrow his blade cleaved the air, until it found resistance in Legolas's neck. 
A rain of blood fell down on Thorin, and the elf prince fell back, staring but seeing nothing. His head was only partly connected to the rest of his body. 
Thorin glanced at Thranduil, who stared at them, not able to move. Thorin didn't believe his son meant nothing to Thranduil, but he didn't seem to comprehend what just had happened. 
Thorin turned around. He rather let Thranduil die of grief than that he would help him pass away quickly. The triumph had disappeared out of his eyes and Thorin knew it wouldn't take long before the wood elves realized they were a minority, and that this crazy undertaking would lead them nowhere. Except to the loss of their prince. And of his princess.