Bard of Laketown

Part Forty-Eight

I fight on without feeling anything. The muscles in my arms ache, but I continue stabbing and slashing. And still the monsters keep coming. I've moved farther to the left now, closer to the doors of the kingdom, which are still closed.

Legolas is still at Tauriel's side, back at Kili's body, but Bard has followed me. I begin to wake up after what feels like days, but is actually a few hours. My senses are more alive, the adrenaline rushing through my veins.

This is what real fighting feels like, I think to myself, not hacking away at giant spiders in Mirkwood. I catch Bard's eye. Sweat is dripping from his brow, and he pauses to wipe it off with the back of his hand. I smile at him widely, and he looks concerned.

I fire an arrow at a goblin who is aiming to stab Bard's back. The goblin drops with a squeal and I laugh out loud. "Are you alright?" Bard shouts over the clang of metal and screams of the injured.

"I have never felt better." Strange, but true. I've never felt stronger, more powerful, faster before. This is a change, and I like it. I slip on a patch of slick blood, which is coating the rocks and staining them a rusty red.

I hear a familiar scream, and I snap out of my high. Turning around, my breath coming in quick pants, my eyes fall upon another newly killed body. I scream in anger and pain, and run back, back to Legolas' side.

He is kneeling beside a red-haired elf, an arrow embedded in her throat. She lies beside her love, her unseeing eyes fixed on Kili of Durin.

Legolas chokes out three words. "I love you..." But she is already dead.

I wrap my arms around Legolas' shoulders. His eyes don't seem to see me; it's like they're looking at someone else.

He's shaking all over. I stroke his hair and kneel down. He sits down with me, moving like a wooden doll. But he doesn't cry. He just stares at her, at the way she's looking at Kili and not him. "I always knew..." He trails off, his voice breaking. "I knew she would never love me. I just kept hoping that maybe- maybe someday she would."

"Hush, Legolas. It will be alright." I can't convince myself of this. Why did she have to go? She was so full of light, and laughter. She was the sun. "Tauriel, my dear, dear friend." I lean over and kiss her brow. Reaching over, I gently close her eyes, and then Kili's.

"So she is dead." Thranduil.

I look up, to find him staring at her body, his eyes impassive. He kneels beside us, then looks at his son. "Cry, Legolas. I would not wish you to carry such a burden." And so, he cries. Tears pouring down his face, gasping and choking. "Gi melin, , Tauriel, gi melin. I love you. I love you."

His eyes have darkened to grey. No more of the beautiful, piercing blue.

I rock him back and forth, my heart aching for my dead friends, and also for the one slowly dying next to me.

I feel Thranduil's strong arms come around us two, and he holds us close. Two tears drop from my eyes, but I force myself to stay strong. I have to, I can't let myself go again.

"I will never stop loving you." When I look up, Thranduil is watching me, his own eyes slightly damp. "It is like my son and Tauriel. He will not forget her. Such is the way of the elves."

I draw in a shaky breath. "I am sorry," I whisper. "So sorry."

He gestures behind me. "But he is the one you love. Go and be with him, if that is truly what you want. I wish all the best for you." He smiles, his face lifting, and the magic covering his scar slips away for just a moment, and then it's gone again.

I stand up, my legs shaking. The sounds of battle are not so loud now. Almost everyone is dead. Where is Fili? I look to Bard, my eyes frantic. He nods in understanding, and we run, looking at the corpses littering the grounds.

A gasping sound, almost like breathing, comes from a body a few feet away. It is Fili, his face stained with blood, an Elvish arrow protruding from his ribs. I drop beside him, and begin to pull out the arrow, but he stops me. "No, Areya. Let me die. With Kili dead, I do not have anyone I love enough to keep on living. Except Thorin, and maybe you." He smiles, blood staining his teeth.

"I killed your brother," I say. "I stabbed him. With my own knife."

Fili closes his eyes. I fear he is dead, but they open again. "I tried to stop, to pull back, but it was too late. It went in, and he fell. He died protecting Thorin."

"An honourable death, then. He would have liked that. Tell my uncle, if you happen to find him, that I loved him."

"That you still love him," I protest.

"I know I'm dying. At least I could have died fighting alongside my people, my family. There is nothing I want now. Erebor has been returned to us. We are home."

"Please, try and stay!" I touch his cheek. "I'm going home, too. I'm almost there. I can see my brother. He is smiling again, as he always did."

"Goodbye, Fili. Thank you for everything. I could not wish for a better friend than you. Lionheart."

He smiles, before the light goes out in his bright eyes and he falls limp beside me.

Bard picks me up and carries me to the doors of Erebor. "It's alright Areya. I'm here with you."

"So much death..." I mumble numbly. "All dead, and just hours ago they were alive and healthy."

"Not all are dead. Legolas and his father are still alive, as are the rest of Thorin's company." He kisses my forehead. We sit against the heavy doors, arms around each other. Not speaking, just full of hurt.

***

I wake up to find that every inch of me stiff and sore. We are surrounded by towering stone walls, and stone floors, and gold, everywhere. It is silent. I stand up slowly. Bard grabs my hand, and I jump back. "I thought you were sleeping!"

"No. But I'm glad you woke up. Silence frightens me." I help him up and we walk down long walkways. "We're going to get lost," Bard informs me.

"No." I continue walking.

We come to a large arched doorway. I walk through it, and find bodies of injured dwarves and elves laid out across the ground. I look over them for familiar faces, but other than a few Mirkwood guards, I find none.

In the corner, Thorin Oakenshield is lying on his back. The halfling sits beside him, eyes worried. "How strange, Master Baggins, that we reclaim Erebor, yet all of its heirs are dead."

"You are not dead, Thorin." Bilbo says severely.

Thorin looks at him. "I'm not, am I? But I very soon will be. I'm sorry I doubted you. The entire journey, to tell you the truth. But you had your moments of courage, and strength, and I respect you for that. And you're the only one who's here now. Where are my cousins, my friends?"

I turn away. I don't want to interrupt this scene. The great dwarven king, dying at the side of a mere halfling. It is touching, and sweet.

"Let's go home." I take Bard's hand and we walk, out of the silent doors of the kingdom, down the steep side of the mountain, and back to Laketown.