Epilogue: The long goodbye

The searing smoke stung Thorin's eyes, he blinked several times but could not prevent his eyes from watering, nor did he want to. A dozen pyres were ablaze before the gates of Erebor, the only funeral that could be given for the many fallen in the battle. It went against all in Thorin to do so, they had had burned the dead in Azanulbizar because they had neither had the time nor the strength to bury them properly, but here… he felt they should do better by those who gave their lives protecting the Mountain. He had quickly learned that the dwarves of the Reach had little in terms of burial rituals at all, they did not maintain crypts nor cairns, and Bard had assured him that among men the pyre was the way the Kings of Old had been sent from this world. Only the Woodelves had decided to bury their dead elsewhere and without participating in the rites of others, of Elrohir's riders seven had fallen, their bodies had been placed on a smaller pyre together, their last journey as the comrades they had been in their long lives.

Thorin stood silently, seeing the fires blaze to the skies, his hand closed on the head of his axe. He had chosen to bring the weapon as it allowed him to lean on it, for he could hardly stand on his own two feet. But he had scoffed away any suggestion of sitting during the ceremony, those warriors deserved being honored and he would honor their sacrifice.

With Thorin stood Fili and Kili, both fully healed and strong, while still pale and grieved. With Thorin's throat still not recovered from the cut of an orc blade, it had fallen to Kili to speak when the pyres were lit and Thorin had been ready to take on the task anyway, no matter what the healers said, seeing how much pain Kili already bore. But Kili had not disappointed him, standing before the pyres he had spoken to the armies and people assembled and spoken well, thanking the dwarves of the Reach that had fallen for keeping strength and faith under the dragon's reign, the warriors of Dale for keeping their old friendship no matter what and the Elves for standing with them through the storm, his words had been solemn, heartfelt and somehow they did not convey loss but a vision of what it had all been for.

They pyres finally burned low as the sun began to set. Thorin bowed his head, to the flames giving his goodbye and silent thanks to the many who had departed. The ceremonies over, many of those who had come said their personal goodbyes as well.

Two figures stood silently by one of the pyres, watching the flames die down leaving nothing of their comrades, of the dragon's bloody legacy. Fion wished he had yet the words to express his feelings in a proper dirge, but his soul could not find them, not yet. Maybe it was the miracle of his own surviving that he first had to understand because he could express the sadness for those gone home. He had known what the price giving in to the blood would extract from them, that it was one final fight, one battle to the death. That he should survive them all was something he had yet to fully grasp, or why Russandol's choice had been to save him above any other. He looked up to the tall warrior beside him, Russandol had been as silent as him while the pyre burned. Maybe for him too this was no time for words, maybe they both knew that there were none.

"My Lord?" he asked, softly, respectfully, not sure whether Rú would wish to stay any longer.

The elf turned his head, intense eyes studying Fion. "There will not be a Lord of the Dragon Forge any longer, Fion," Russandol said.

"You wish to leave?" Fion honestly was surprised, maybe because the Lord of the Dragon Forge had been so long in the peak of Erebor that people would say he had been there forever, untrue though that might be. It might seem inappropriate to others that would speak of this, here by the pyre but Fion knew it was right. The spirits of the others were still close; they would hear and know that those who lived were going on.

"Your people were generous, Fion," Russandol said, not quite truly speaking to Fion. "They found me when I felt my fea flee Arda's shores and they permitted me to stay and heal, offered me a home in many long years." He had not considered ever leaving the peak, nor truly considered where his path might lead, for a long time the loneliness and the silence had been what he needed to heal. The world he had left behind had been the world of the waning first age, at the dawn of the second, now that he stood here in the world again; the third age was already seeing the white of time's winter. Arda's people had changed, Arda herself had changed, but there was still darkness in the world and still… still there was the vast wide expanse of this wild free world that had sung to him so long ago. Maybe time had healed the exhaustion of his fea, maybe he had simply forgotten what it had felt like, but he could again look at this world and wonder what may lie beyond the mighty ridge of mountains, or what had become of this vast ancient land. "I had a brother once," he said to the flames, burning down. "We were separated when I fell into the chasm… but my heart tells me he still walks these shores."

"You wish to find him," Fion observed, his eyes lighting up. "You may need someone to have your back, Rú."

Russandol looked at the dwarf by his side, sensing a strange echo from him. Healing Fion had been a decision made in the spur of the moment, but not one he would ever regret. "What of your people?" he asked. "Now, with the new King being your Uncle through marriage you have a chance to go home, to live amongst them once more. If this is about the promise you made to Skar…"

"No, it is about a promise I made to a friend," Fion felt a little daring to claim that openly, but he was stubborn enough not to let it go. "I… I am happy that I met Fili, to know that I have a cousin, but… I could never be quite at home with them." His home had been the Dragon Forge, and he had wished for none other, he'd follow Rú as long as he would permit it.

ADL

The crypt was deep under the Earth, near the heart of the mountain, the dwarves had buried their dead in various parts of the deeps, but this was the place where their kings, their nobles and their heroes rested. And now also Balin. Thorin had passionately opposed to see Balin's body given to the pyres, or that of Bombur and Boromir. He would not see them burned, not after what they had been through with him.

Eventually he had decided for an extra crypt, near the old royal crypts. On the one side all those the dragon had taken would be laid to rest and on the other side those would sleep who had returned to fight the dragon. Thorin felt it fitting that he and the company should find rest in the same place when the time came. He had seen some debate out of Kili on the issue; his son felt that Boromir would not wish to be placed to rest where he could see neither stars nor sky. But Thorin had thought better of that, while he had not known the brave warrior as well as he would have liked, he had seen the amazement in Boromir's eyes when he had first entered Erebor, the fascination for the sprawling fortress city. Born to the surface and wide lands, this warrior of men had had a heart strong and brave enough to see the wonders of the deep.

It was at night when they held the funeral for their three companions, while it was a smaller ceremony, more private, there was still a number of people with them. The company of course, along with some of the Elves, Elrohir and Aelin paying their respects to Thorin's comrades, Bard with some of his people. Thorin had been surprised to see Bard here, but was glad that the son of Dale had come.

Balin's tomb was made of the white stone found on the northern reaches of the Mountain, and starkly unadorned for now, except for the inscription. Cursing his own weakness, Thorin had asked Fili to put the inscription there; he himself would do the ornaments at a later time, to honor the old dwarf, who had been a friend, councilor and loyal comrade, whom he keenly missed.

Balin, Son of Fundin

Councilor, Friend and Comrade

And the wisest of us all

He had no other words in his heart to say, Balin had deserved better than to die on the doorstep of his long lost home. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor. Balin had said to him, and after having fallen so deep under the spell of the gold, Thorin saw the wisdom in the old dwarf's words. He would always remember the wise friend and heed his council in his heart.

Bombur's grave was made from dark mountain stone, a flat cairn in Blacklock tradition, that later would hold the story of Bombur's life written in runes on the sides. Glóin had asked Bofur to be allowed to place the inscription there, a surprisingly gentle gesture from their peppery comrade, and one Bofur had accepted gracefully. Thorin knew the miner more than before felt out of place in this moment. He went to Bofur, to find some more personal words for the grieving brother.

Boromir's grave had presented them with all kinds of questions; none of them had known where Boromir had come from nor his true family, no names of a father or clan, nothing else either. To Thorin's surprise it had been Kili and Dwalin who had made those decisions, in an understanding that suggested they knew more of their human comrade's history. The tomb was made from white stone as well, and there was no doubt that the ornamentation would be Kili's own work. For now there was only the inscription and one ornament.

Boromir

Brother, Friend and Protector

Beneath that Kili had carved the dragonbane seal. Thorin had watched him and watched him now during the ceremony. Kili was pale but there were no tears in his eyes, even as they shone with pain. It worried Thorin to see it, he could understand fierce grief, the grim stormy grief Dwalin had for his brother, or the tears Bofur would shed for Bombur, but Kili's tearless agony was beyond him. He saw Fili gently hug his brother, both finding strength in each other as they had done so often before.

Thorin silently looked at the grave again, now noticing another set of writing, a battle song engraved beside the dragon. He still did not know who Boromir had been, if he had a family somewhere in the world, but the brave warrior had died so Fili and Kili might live, and Thorin would always recognize the blood-debt that this deed put on his line. He did not know if he'd ever find Boromir's people but if he did, he would honor the man's sacrifice.

When the others were leaving Thorin waited. "Dwalin, please stay," he said softly. There was one more thing to do, and one that bore no sharing. The bald warrior understood wordlessly, and followed Thorin as they left this crypt for the old royal crypts. Thorin carried the simple stone urn that held Daroin's ashes, he had contemplated burying Balin and Daroin together, as brothers, but he felt they would disapprove and Daroin deserved to rest where he should have, had he died before King Thrór's reign had come to an end. When he placed the urn in one of the niches in the outer wall of the royal crypt, Thorin felt it was time to speak.

"Dwalin," his voice was still rough, that damn cut to his throat healing too slowly. "'tis is a bad time to speak of this, but it is the only time. I feel your brothers' spirits are still with us here." Ignoring the pain in his rms, he reached up to clasp Dwalin's broad shoulders. "As long as I am King under the Mountain, there will be no Royal Guard to protect me, for there is only one warrior I would entrust my life to like that and I will need you as my warmaster in many years to come." Thorin looked at Dwalin's dark eyes, wondering if his friend would ever heal from the losses he had suffered. "And I do not wish you to follow me into death, like it was done for the Kings of Old. I have seen enough warriors die for me already to add any more. I have seen enough friends die." It was a gross breaching of tradition, of a custom harkening back to Azaghâl of Belegost, but it was a tradition Thorin could hardly bear to see continued. "When my time comes, my friend," he went on. "I want you to live, to go on, to not give up… and maybe keep an eye on Kili."

"Always," Dwalin's voice was rough with emotions, with many things he could not say, his heart was too full. "I promise Thorin, I will be there to protect Kili. But…" a glint, a small spark rose in his eyes. "Until then, I will take great pleasure in denying fate your untimely departure."

ADL

Hagil stood alone inside the silent crypts. He knew he should have left with the others, but there was something he still needed to do. The old mercenary walked slowly, with a limp, his leg still aching from the axe wound. In his hand he held the old leather band with the golden clasp. He had worn this ornament for so many years; it had become part of him. Long years ago, when he had been still young, too young a mercenary, he had agreed to take on a job from a comrade who owed a wizard a favor and did not feel up to the task bidden of him.

It had been a crazy decision, one only a youth could make in full trust of his strength and skill. The adventure had led to pain, trouble, an exasperated wizard and… Kadan. Old, grim Kadan. A dwarf found in a dark place, his mind wracked with madness, hardly remembering who he was. Hagil had rescued him but Kadan had refused to return to his people, too deeply shamed over his own downfall he had never told Hagil his true name or where he had come from. His constant company had gained Hagil the reputation of being that mercenary with the mad dwarf in tow but he had not cared. For those twelve years Kadan had been his friend, comrade and a fierce fighter to have his back. When Kadan had died, at the dawn of spring, he had asked Hagil to keep that clasp and to bury his body in the shadow of the mountain.

Hagil had fulfilled both wishes, burying Kadan where he could see the Mountain from afar, and always keeping the clasp. For more than thirty years he had worn it around his neck, in memory of a long dead friend. Now, he studied the faded markings on the gold, comparing it to the various tombs in the deeps until he finally found the same seal inside a large chamber. It was a magnificent crypt, one that would even put those pretentious cairns in Gondor to shame, because here it was not the splendor but the craftsmanship and sheer beauty of the work that made this place unique. The symbol on the clasp repeated on the tombs before him.

He stepped closer and found that one of the marble figures depicting the dead dwarf in this tomb had just enough of an open hand for the clasp to fit inside. Carefully he rolled the leather band up around it and put the clasp into the stone hand. It was not much, but in a way Kadan would rest with his ancestors.

ADL

"So you truly are set on leaving?" Fili asked, standing beside Fion outside the mountain. A cool grey autumn day had risen in the skies and the wind blew sharply from the north. "It is sad, I just found out I had a cousin…"

Fion turned to him. "Fili, you have a family, a brother and an Uncle who adores you. And if you ever need my help – send one of your Ravens. I will come." It was as much of a promise as he could make. While Fion would have liked to get to know Fili better, he knew it was better they were gone soon. There was already unrest among the woodland elves because of Rú and they might easily start another war over that.

"The gates of the mountain will always be open to you, both of you." Fili said warmly, knowing that Fion's choice was not so dissimilar from the choice Dari had made. The two dwarves clasped hands in goodbye and then Fion turned quickly, briskly walking towards the figure of the lone elf waiting for him a few paces away.

Legolas had not wished to intrude on any proceedings, and thus kept his distance. He had shuddered to see the infamous Noldorin Prince here, but knew better than to speak out. With his father still recuperating from his injuries this was hardly the time for old grudges to be revisited. Maybe it was better this Noldor left quietly, instead of remaining in the proximity of Mirkwood.

"Prince Legolas," Fili approached him, the dwarf's demeanor shifting from friendly to somewhat guarded. "What has brought you here?"

"Prince Fili," Legolas greeted him politely. "I did wish to speak with Lachanar, our army will march before nightfall and…"

Fili's eyes narrowed. "I think King Thorin already told you, you can't have him, not for your perceived oathbreaking and certainly not for execution."

"Many things were said in haste, when we last met," Legolas replied diplomatically. "And I do not wish him handed over but to speak to him."

"Wait here," Fili said, leaving for the Mountain gates. He did not invite the Woodelf into the fortress, and for good reason.

It was not long after that Lachanar came outside, walking in a brisk stride, it was clear he had hurried. "Prince Fili said that you wished to see me." He said, politely but speaking with a clear detachment.

Legolas heard it, the distance in Lachanar's voice. "Many things happened, Lachanar," he said. "And some of them were regretful. My father… my father understands that he put you into an impossible situation when he ordered you to kill Thorin. He is willing to overlook all that happened and invites you to return home with us." He tried to word it well, balancing the grace of forgiving a broken oath with the understanding for the situation it had happened in.

Their eyes met and Legolas perceived barely restrained temper in the eyes of the former Captain-General. "I'd rather he were not to overlook my actions that day," Lachanar said. "If there is anything I would be proud of in the last hundred years it was that I finally found the spine to stand by my friend. I have no wish to go back, in grace or disgrace, I am no longer of Mirkwood and I doubt I will be ever again."

"But where will you go?" Legolas asked. "Live among dwarves? Beg for admission into another Elven Kingdom? Sail west?"

At the last Lachanar laughed. "Most certainly not, I will go back to the undying lands the day an Orc arrow sends me straight to Mandos. The shadow may have fled Dol Guldur but it was not destroyed, we still have a world to defend and battles to fight."

Legolas' eyes went to the two figures he could see heading west, one a blond dwarf and one a red-haired elf. "Among comrades such as this?" he asked.

"With anyone willing to stand and oppose the shadow." Lachanar's stern mien softened a little. "Legolas," he said, for the moment letting go of his temper. "A storm is coming, one like we have not seen in thousands of years. What that Easterling said was true, when he returns it will be with an army, and we have to be ready."

Legolas could not reply to that, he had seen too much in the last weeks to discuss more war and bloodshed anytime soon. He turned and left, to return to his father. It was time for them to go home.

ADL

"We need to send a messenger to the Ered Luin before the winter comes," Thorin was seated in a small hall in the mountain, with his friends. "The sooner they know, the better they can prepare for their journey here."

"I would like to go," Kili said. "I… I need to go. I don't think I could sit still all winter."

Thorin silently agreed, it would be best to send someone from the Royal House to bring the message and Kili was fully healed and able to travel.

"I'll go with you," Dwalin had spoken up. "With all the Orcs running scared it will be a restless winter on this side of the mountains."

"And it would give them someone to organize the venture," Thorin replied, understanding that Dwalin needed the task. And it would do him good to travel with Kili, maybe it would be easier on him.

"Do you think you could take a burglar with you?" Bilbo spoke up.

"You are already planning on leaving?" Thorin asked, he had had the impression Bilbo liked Erebor.

"I would like to stay, Thorin," Bilbo explained. "But… I left in rather a hurry and there are some things I better take care of. Otherwise I may come back and find that the Sackville-Bagginses got out of Hardbottle. There are a few family matters I left unattended as well."

Thorin understood, their arrival with Gandalf in the previous spring had been rather sudden and certainly created chaos in the life of their Hobbit. "I still hope you will be back for the coronation." He rumbled.

"I will do my best, Thorin," Bilbo promised. "Which is why I wanted to travel with Kili and Dwalin right away."

"It would be great to have you with us, Bilbo," Kili said. "We'd be lost without our burglar." He added with a wink.

"Gracious me!" Bilbo laughed. "Prince or no you are incorrigible."

"Then it is decided," Thorin said. "Kili, Dwalin and Bilbo will ride back to the Ered Luin in the morning and bring our people home."

ADL

Nightfall found Kili alone in the crypt by Boromir's tomb. The last time he had been standing here, the pain had been so heavy in his chest; he had hardly been able to breathe. The pain was still there, but more subdued. He knew Boromir had not wanted him to mourn, he had felt his friend's honest elation only moments before the warrior had slipped into the darkness, and he did his best to respect this wish. He bowed his head, dark hair falling forward to hide his face, he would not mourn and he would not cry, he had been surprised he had even been able to joke with Bilbo earlier and he knew it was what Boromir would have wanted. He would honor his memory by living, by not breaking and he'd fight hard to prove he had been worth such sacrifice.

None of us will ever know

What lies around that bend

All the world becomes your home

On the road that never ends.

(Blackmore's Night: Journeyman)

Finis

Author's Notes

Before you all come to hit me, because I said in some PMs that there would be many chapters here still - this journey is far from over, this is simple the end of Raven's Blade II: Durin's Bane, which was Boromir's journey to break the ancient curse. This journey is ended now but the journey of Kili and his friends is far from over, there are Dain, Dale, Elves and Sackville Bagginses down the road still. I will pick up again with Raven's Blade III: The Twilight Years in a few days hopefully, and I want to THANK all of you who encouraged me to go on, who speculated and asked questions. You all are awesome.

When I originally started this story, I was sure I would end it, with a short glimpse on the coming ring war, by now I know there is more to say of what happened between now and the great war… so I will tell that story. I am aware many of you will miss Boromir, who will not be born or around for quite a while. And I can answer you with a quote

"I really don't mind what happens between now and then

As long as you are my friend at the end."

While I too will miss Boromir when writing on, Kili will meet him again… just some odd decades down the road.

Very special thanks to Harrylee94, who keeps working with me and is amazing keeping up with my crazed writing speed. Without her this story would not exist. And she writes amazing stories as well… so check out her profile!

At this point I can only ask you to give me a day or two to get the sequel started and encourage you to share questions, requests and speculations!

A BIG THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU

Valandhir