Price of Battle ➝ The Hobbit ✓

Part Thirty-One

PART THIRTY-ONE ~

Fili was in a trance; everything was silent, apart from a strange, ripple sound, like a faint humming. It was as though he had been thrust under water, where all sound and light was suspended somewhere above the darkness that shrouded his mind. His vision was fuzzy and muddled, only vague shapes and figures darted around him in the real world, where he didn't belong. He was lingering on the edge of death. Like on the edge of a cliff; if he tilted a little more one way, he would be sent plummeting to his end. Tilt a little the other way, and he would be saved from a certain fate.

Then, quite abruptly, he teetered towards the right side and everything returned back to normal, each sense coming back one at a time. The somewhat distant ring of metal clashing against metal, the hiss of blades slicing through the air, the hisses and snarls and roars of the battle outside. The mumbling and murmuring and bustling of dwarves inside the tent, the whispering and moaning and cries of pain. And then he became aware of soft material strapped around his waist, and something damp and cool pressing against his forehead, and the clammy hand desperately gripping his own, brushing their fingers against his. And then he became aware of the figure sitting beside him, bearing a look of hopelessness, but then happiness as his eyes fluttered fully open and the world outside rushed to greet him.

Arien, her hands clutching his, her face leaning forward, her cheeks smeared with blood and dirt, her forehead beaded with sweat. She still looked beautiful, her glittering eyes, glazed over with unshod tears.

But then the pain hit; hit him hard in the abdomen. Searing pain coursed through his body, burning fiercely round his waist. He tried to gasp, but instead spat blood, sending Arien into a panicked state, where she screamed for the healer to come and gripped his hand even tighter. The edges of his vision blurred and faded, he was slipping back into that pit, on the edge of the cliff. He was losing conciousness. But he fell into the dark abyss of his mind with the image of Arien's face imprinted in his thoughts.

~

Arien. Where was she? All Fili could see what darkness. The world was shrouded with gloom.

Fear.

Pain.

Death.

Those were the only things he felt. Suspended on the cliff once more, swaying towards a world of despair, a world of darkness, a world of death. A world where no living thing could pass, a place where only the dead could walk unhindered.

But he was not ready to pass into that world. Not yet.

~

Fili awoke instantly. Something cold and damp was being pressed against his waist, sending lances of pain wracking through his body like an icy dagger. He mumbled something inaudible and tried to restrain himself from kicking out.

"Hey, it's okay. Calm down," Soothed a voice. "Just relax."

Fili nodded, biting back another cry of protest. His breathing came in sharp, shallow rasps, his chest barely moving.

His body suddenly writhed in pain as more pressure was applied to wound and icy water pierced his skin. His vision was still clouded and fuzzy, but he recognized the soothing voice that drifted through his thoughts, whispering words of comfort.

"Arien?" He mumbled, his eyes flickering from side to side as he tried to glimpse her face. Her hand squeezed his and he was able to discern her figure through the veil that shrouded his vision. Hot tears rolled down her cheek, but her lips were tugged into a smile. A smile for him.

"Yes. It's me, Fili."

The dwarf let his head droop, jerking his cramped fingers so they stroked her hand. She was safe. She was okay. And so was he.

The pain had receded; it was now a dull throb, pulsating through his abdomen like the poison through his vein. The poison that was now being killed off with the aid of medicinal herbs.

Arien leaned closer to his face, so her warm breath ticked his cheek. Her hand tentatively reached out and brushed the hair from his face, now regaining some colour in the flickering light of the candle by his bed.

"We've won the battle," she whispered, pulling her hand away, but her face remained close to his. She hesitantly leaned closer and gently planted a kiss on his cheek, just before he slipped out of consciousness, whispering her name.