Price of Battle ➝ The Hobbit ✓

Part Thirty-Five

PART THIRTY-FIVE ~

It was not long after Thoros' death when the victory horns wailed through the plains, drowning out the cheers and yells of the victorious Dwarven army. Weapons were discarded, bodies were embraced, songs were sung. But the whole while, Arien remained clutching her friend's limp body in her arms. She brushed his hair out of his face with numb fingers, silent tears still dripping into his closed eyes. She hadn't looked up once. She was only vaguely aware of what was happening around her; fallen orcs were slowly being mounded up beside her as dwarves dragged them across the field. The bodies of dwarves were also being collected, but Arien wouldn't let them take Thoros away.

'Not yet," she kept muttering. 'Not yet." Her gaze remained glued to his sunken eyes and pale cheeks, speckled with blood and dirt.

She finally glanced up when Kili approached, bearing a look of grief.

"I am sorry for your loss, Arien. I truly am, but we need to bury him. It is only what he deserves."

It took a moment for her to accept what he was saying, and she slowly picked herself from the ground, gathering him up in her arms. He wasn't very heavy, but she found it hard to walk on cramped and bruised legs, and eventually had to hand him to Kili. She trailed behind, her movements slow and burdened, her mood sullen.

As Thoros was laid beside other fallen comrades and friends, each one loved by another, Arien felt a new wave of tears build up, and she did nothing to stop them flowing.

"Why do so many people have to suffer?" She whispered through sobs. "Why do so many people have to get killed? They don't deserve it. They really don't."

Kili caught her muffled words and slowly embraced her, caressing her dirt-ridden hair in silence.

She wished Fili was with her. She missed him dearly. She had to go back for him. As soon as Kili allowed, she'd go back to the tent and they'd both return to Erebor with each other. She couldn't bear loosing another friend.

Not Fili.

Never Fili.

~

"Don't you want to ride back to Erebor with the rest of the army?"

Arien shook her head defiantly. "Don't you want to see if your brother's okay?" She retorted sharply, annoyance overpowering her sadness.

Kili sighed and stared at her thoughtfully. She recoiled slightly under his gaze. "Of course I do," he mumbled, turning away. "Fine. We'll both head out tomorrow back to the healers tent. Let's just hope he's still there." He muttered the latter sentence under his breath, not wanting to worry Arien. She'd have missed his comment anyhow, for she was too exhausted.

For the remainder of the evening, she assisted with the burials and clearing of the field, before settling down in the open, aside the trees bordering the plains. She had made sure she was furthest away from the bloodied grass as possible, not wanting her dreams to be plagued with thoughts of death and the stench of blood. But she knew, deep in her heart, that the sight of Thoros' dying body would be glued in her mind forever, no matter what she did to erase it.

That night, she merely stared up at the sky. The clutches of sleep never came to claim her, no matter how compelling it usually seemed. She breathed heavily in the cool air as it washed over her like a wave. The stars peeped out from the clouds like specks of grey dust on a sooty tile, and she found herself wishing on them. Wishing for her family's safety; the family who were most probably worried sick. They hadn't a clue whether she was alive or not.

It saddened her to think of Thoros' family's reaction when she told them the news. She decided, right there, laying under the moon, that she would be the one to tell them. It would be the only way to lift the burden weighing heavily on her heart; the burden of his death. The guilt. The guilt that plagued her as she closed her eyes and fell into a troubled dream.

~

"Arien!" Fili cried, his features imbued with obvious joy and relief. Joy he could only express with a kiss. For that is exactly what he did as she rode to his tent and threw herself at him. He cupped her cheeks with calloused hands and pulled her into a tight embrace, gently kissing her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.

She nestled her head into his neck, forgetting all the sadness and grief and guilt plaguing her through the entire journey back. She focused on the present, whom she was with and what she was doing. But then it flooded back to her in a tempest of emotions and she began sobbing, held tight in Fili's arms. He slowly stroked her hair, still unaware of his friend's death, but didn't question her grief until she took one, last shuddering breath and lapsed into silence.

Once he learned of Thoros' fate, he led her back to the tent and allowed her to lay on his cot while he collected a flask of water for her. She cooled her parched throat and eventually settled down, staring at Fili as he fell asleep in the chair beside her.

His head was jerked in an awkward position and his arm kept twitching under the pressure of chair rest, where his hand was trapped beneath that and his side. She gently shook him awake and insisted they shared the bed. Too exhausted to protest, he allowed himself to be pulled into the soft covers and instantly fell back asleep. Arien watched his chest rise and fall slowly as her mind relaxed.

Perhaps everything would be okay now. Once they returned to Erebor, she would face the guilt and relay the news to Thoros' family, and perhaps she could settle into a happy life. A life as it used to be, when she and Fili knew no sadness nor grief, when they were not as wizened or toughened by the challenges they had faced. When they enjoyed each other's company, and duelled until the sun died down, and the moon came up. When everything was as it should be.

Perhaps.