Born from Stone (A Thorin Oakenshield story)

*Neither will he ever forget

The night passed agonisingly slow, with Fili sitting by Thorin's one side and Balin by his other, hanging perilously between heavy sleep and weary alertness. Lord Dain visited with the intent to inform the Prince of all the arrangements for the protection of the golden city, but everyone knew he truly came to see how Thorin was doing. Fili seemed satisfied enough with Dain's military report and the way he addressed his formidable uncle presented a deep dedication to take over command, despite his youth. Something that made Balin and Dwalin very proud. The large bodyguard of the King didn't leave with Dain no matter how many times Balin insisted that he needed to take a break from this hell. Instead he retreated to a quiet corner by the fire in order to gather his thoughts and Balin soon joined him in painful silence.

When all were half asleep from fatigue, the only one remaining loyally awake was Fili and Oin. The Prince stood above Thorin's head like an angel, checking his temperature every so often and helping Oin to feed the King the medicinal brew. Despite their loving efforts though as time progressed Thorin's condition became rather dire. They were neither able to induce sweat or wake him up. He wasn't even delirious anymore. He was totally immovable, his breaths were quick and strained, his face was deadly pale and his lips gained a terrifying blue hue. His temperature had risen so much that even touching him was painful to their fingers. Oin's desperate tries to open up the wound in several places to allow the puss that was building up inside to seep through made Fili's heart clench in anguish, but he gritted his teeth and tried to help Oin the best he could. Any attempts to make Thorin swallow Oin's concoction were turning out to be a complete failure since in the end he couldn't even swallow anymore and the liquid ended up running down the side of his mouth and onto the mattress. By the first streaks of dawn Fili was looking at Thorin with dread-filled eyes, counting each breath, abandoned at the certainty that his uncle was soon going to stop breathing. His hand was grasping Thorin's tightly and he was not letting go even though his palm was sweaty from the heat his uncle's body was emanating. Balin's exhaustion had pulled him into a sleep full of nightmares next to Thorin's pillow. Young Ori and Bilbo were also sleeping close to the fire. On the contrary Dwalin was pacing up and down the room unable to control his anger.

"Saved him...Gandalf saved him...my ass!" Dwalin roared, not really knowing how to handle the hellish situation of his brother in arms.

"Not again." Balin whispered and he opened up his heavy eyelids with a deep frown.

Bilbo jerked up sharply and his hand grabbed one of the posts from the bed to steady himself. He looked around in confusion as every single morsel of his body seemed to tremble from the rude awakening. "Is he dead?!"

"He is one step from it!" -Dwalin growled- "I told you it was better to die sword at hand than fade away! That damned wizard did nothing more than postpone his death and make him and us suffer. May Mahal curse him for making my brother endure such agony!" He yelled and kicked a chair, scattering wooden fragments as far away as the door.

Ori woke up with a cry of fear and Oin threw his hands in the air exasperated. "I hate Dwalin when he's like that, but he is damned right you know!"

Dwalin looked at him angrily.

Oin picked up his hearing cone and placed it in his ear. "Our King is being racked with pain he doesn't deserve. He should have been resting in peace, with the Arkenstone on his chest under the mountain this very moment, not struggling in this manner." Oin's voice sounded frustrated.

Dwalin's jawline tightened in the face of all this torture. "This is a fate worse than death..."

Balin covered his eyes as these words reduced him to silent tears.