My Heart Burns [ThorinxOC]

Chapter 6

~Last chapter~

Thorin felt a deep sob growing in his chest, but he did not let it out. He waited until his tears dried before he let go of Nyrath's hand, which he put around the handle of his blood-black axe, still warm and soft as it was. To his brother, he had not got in time, but he knew that he would have said about the same things that Nyrath had said. It was not goodbye. It was just a temporary break in his heart, which he had their trust to fill with, as well as that of his people.

Thorin got up and raised his eyes over the battlefield, where Dwarves and Orcs lay slaughtered together. Of the Orcs, none were left alive. Of the Dwarves, less than half remained to go back to their families. But of those few, many were looking at him, and even if their eyes were filled with tears, he knew that they were looking at him with something that felt intangible to him, and that was hope. It lay on his shoulders now, all of it, and there was nothing that he could do with his pain other than set it on fire.

"You're bleeding," said Dwalin, at his side.

Startled, Thorin looked at him. Dwalin nodded towards his left arm. Indeed, there was a trail of fresh blood dripping down his forearm. He remembered a growing sting under his breast as well, which Dwalin could not see.

"It is nothing," he said. "It can wait."

Dwalin held his gaze, challenging, but eventually relented, and joined Thorin in his desolate survey of the battlefield. "Our dead are too many to build tombs," said Dwalin.

"Aye," said Thorin.

"We cannot leave them to the beasts that still lurk unseen in these parts."

"No, we cannot," said Thorin and his own words sounded to him like they were made of death. He had never realised so deeply before this moment what power words had to turn immaterial, inoffensive thoughts into heavy reality. His thoughts and his words were heavy with power over the life and death of his people. He'd always known that, but now it was final and so very real. "We will have to burn them," he said, looking at Dwalin. A shroud of grief fell over his heart along with his words. He knew that it was endless and without return, like death itself, but at least Dwalin was there to see his terrible thoughts and remain strong before them. There was something encouraging in the way Dwalin stood at his side, bloody, tired and surely hiding his own wounds, but not quite at the end of his strength, seeing all the way through to the wide, deep darkness that had become of Thorin's heart, and yet meeting it with the light of trust in his eyes. "But first we must strip them of their weapons and mail. We do not want any of it to fall to the hands of the Orcs," said Thorin finally.

Dwalin approved, and Thorin gave in to the impulse of laying a thankful hand on his shoulder. As he did so, he saw Dwalin's brother Balin coming towards them, his face glistening with fresh traces of tears.

"Balin, have you seen my father?" said Thorin, as he came close.

"No, I have not," said Balin.

"I shall look for him myself," said Thorin, then turned again to Nyrath's body, lying peaceful on the ground. "Will you take care of him for me?" he asked, addressing Dwalin. "My brother, too."

Balin looked at both of them confused.

"Dwalin will explain," Thorin told him. "Take some of the stronger ones with you to cut down the trees. Build as many pyres as you need to, but don't light the fire until I say so."

Dwalin and Balin both bowed their heads to him even if only one of them knew fully what he was talking about. Thorin took this as further encouragement and went on to look for his father among the fallen. His heart was a little lighter when he could not find him there, even if he could not find him among the living either. But at least, he could hope that he was still alive, and he did not have to go back to his sister and tell her that they had lost everything. It was also his last sign that his thoughts and words were now all powerful.