Hello!

I had not originally planned to publish another story right now, but with the second trailer of The Battle of the Five Armies being released (it's incredible!) and the extended edition of Desolation of Smaug arriving in my mailbox yesterday, I just couldn't resist to get this story up sooner than planned!

This will be a slight AU of what happens the days after the Battle of the Five Armies. Any mentions of the Quest will be like the events of the book, while the characters are more like those in the movies or only there in the movies. It will cover the perspective of five different persons; Thorin, Thranduil, Bard, Gandalf and Tauriel, though not necessarily in that order. There will be SOME SPOILERS if you have not read the book (or googled the original story's events), but still a bit AUish, so read at your own risk.

I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Day 1 – Thorin

Thorin felt as if he was on fire.

The pain was unimaginable, like fire burning its way through his veins, making his blood boil. His throat was dry and tasted of blood and iron. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him and made him utter a weak, raspy sound like that of a rock being dragged across an uneven surface. Moving hurt and he did not have the strength to open his eyes. It was as if stones had been put before his eyes and prevented him from seeing. He was not in command over his own body and that scared him.

The Dwarf King was surrounded by darkness without any signs of light, though he could feel heat and fire upon his body. He thought he could hear voices – though every sound was slurred and appeared to be coming from far away – but he did not register anyone that sounded familiar. They could have been shouting, whispering or conversing in ordinary tones and he would not have noticed the difference.

His breathing came heavy and with a pain to his chest, though the burning eased and he felt almost numb. It was like floating and sinking, falling and not knowing if you would ever stop. Pain seared through him as he let out a ragged breath that shook him and left him shivering.

He could barely remember what had happened, why he had come to be in this state. He thought he could recall a battle and gold, a lust for gold that had not completely died out, that was lying and brewing in the back of his mind.

Thorin coughed and his eyelids fluttered, making him see a blurry picture of colors that blended together. He tried to focus, to keep his eyes open. Stubborn he had always been and though it hurt, he forced his eyes open and blinked a couple of times.

Everything became clearer and his whole body ached.

"Thorin!"

Óin was at his side immediately, starting to prod at him with experienced fingers, gently, but firmly. The healer's eyes were bloodshot and he looked as terrible as Thorin felt.

"What….?" he tried to speak, but it came out weak and he felt humiliated at his lack of power.

"Water!" yelled Óin and turned around to glare at something. "Water for the King!"

Thorin flinched at the loud shout. He noticed other Dwarves moving in the corner of his eye and before he knew it, Óin was pouring water down his throat and he greedily drank, not knowing how thirsty he had been until now.

When the jug was empty, Thorin felt colder as if the fire that had previously burned inside him had distinguished. Instead, every vein in his body seemed to throb.

Óin had shouted for some of his colleagues to spread the word that the King had awoken, that the line of Durin was not yet broken. The flaps of the tent made a swishing sound as they were thrown open and a cold gust of wind filled the tent as a couple of dwarves rushed out into the autumn to tell the news. Soon, Thorin was only able to see that Óin was left. He tried to sit up, for his sheets were clammy and felt disgusting, and his thick hair was plastered to his neck, face and pillow in a way that made him warm and feel unclean. Óin was there in an instant, placing a hand on his shoulder – the one that wasn't bandaged – and kept him down.

"I wouldn't do that", said the healer warningly, shaking his head and looked down at Thorin from behind his long nose. "You need to lie down. Your injuries are grave."

"What happened?" Thorin asked and his voice sounded rough. A feverish spark appeared in his blue eyes. "The battle, what of it? Did we win?"

"Aye", nodded Óin, but he did not look overjoyed. "We did, though not without losses."

That sounded ominous to Thorin's ears. He fixed the healer with an intense stare, desperation making cracks in a façade that usually was calm and unreadable. Óin didn't look at him, but mixed some herbs together in a bowl and inspected Thorin's bandages. To Thorin, it appeared as if Óin avoided his gaze on purpose.

"What of Fíli and Kíli?" he asked urgently. "And our Company?"

"The members of our Company lives", Óin admitted. "A bit wounded and not without pain, but they live."

Thorin let out a sigh of relief and noticed for the first time that Óin had a bandaged wrapped around his left leg. When he commented on it, the old healer waved the question away as if it was nothing.

"I live", he said gruffly. "Can't let a petty wound like this stop me now. The healers are needed too much for letting me lie down. I've had worse injuries than this, but I don't know if I have seen worse injuries than I have now…." He trailed off and then fixed Thorin with a tired stare and Thorin could see that he chose his next words carefully. "Fíli and Kíli…. They fought valiantly, Thorin, but they gained very serious injuries."

Thorin felt as if a cold hand squeezed his heart in an iron-grip. Óin continued and while his words were harsh and caused Thorin more pain then his wounds, the other dwarf's eyes were soft and compassionate:

"Both of them live for now, but it is difficult to say if they will survive. Fíli took a blow to his head and has not yet woken up. We can treat his other wounds as much as we like, but if he does not wake up soon, he will die. We cannot keep an unconscious man alive for long, not when it's uncertain how he responds to his treatment. Kíli woke up before, but he is in pain. I personally diagnosed him to take a sleeping draught. His right arm is a mess, scarred and broken. Many of his wounds have affected his inner organs, but we are doing all we can."

"They protected me", whispered Thorin, more to himself than to Óin.

Memories came flooding back, a bit vague and disoriented, but Thorin knew he remembered it correctly. Fíli and Kíli had rushed to help him as he fought off goblin after goblin. It was noble of them and Thorin had not expected any less of them, but he could remember that even through his fury, his mad desire for gold and the Arkenstone, he had felt a shiver of fear running through him as he had watched his nephews cut their way through the Goblins' ranks to get to him.

Thinking about the battle, another thought entered his mind, unconsciously. It was poisonous.

"The Arkenstone", Thorin begun slowly. "Who has it now?"

Óin gave him a sharp look, eyes flashing, and though Thorin was wounded and not thinking all too clearly, he was certain that the healer looked disappointed. The King didn't hang his head in shame, but steadily met Óin's gaze, blinking and fighting to keep his eyes open as his eyelids suddenly felt heavy again.

"Bard the Dragonslayer still had it the last I heard of it", answered Óin in a clipped tone and crushed a couple of acorns in a bowl with a bit of too much force than necessary. The sound was horrible.

Thorin nodded and did not exactly know what to feel about that information. The gold was no longer on his mind, the longing for it having vanished, but there was still a tiny part of his mind that would not completely let go of the bright, shimmering jewel, the Arkenstone. However, that part was put to the side with thoughts of his nephews, friends and subjects. Thorin drew a rattling breath and felt pain stretch across his chest, a chest that was bandaged. He closed his eyes briefly, but snapped them open as the images of Fíli and Kíli lying lifeless and pale, of the battle with its horrors and of the wrongness of his behavior before became too much to bare. But the thoughts of his young nephews had gotten him to remember something else, someone small and seemingly defenseless.

"What of the burglar?"

Óin put down the bowl with the brownish sludge he had been experimenting with and shrugged, looking very grim.

"No one knows. He has not been seen since the battle, but we are not done with counting our dead."

When the grey-haired Dwarf was finished speaking, the flaps of the tent was once more pushed aside and two Dwarves Thorin did not know came inside. Both of them bowed as they saw that he was awake and Thorin managed to nod back, though after that he paid them little attention as they started to talk to Óin about different medicines and different wounds that they had come across. He couldn't prevent a small pang of remorse as he recalled what he did and said to the Hobbit. He had been prepared to throw the hobbit down the mountain, insulting him as he did so. Their burglar's eyes had been wide and frightened; a different fear than the one that had been there when they faced dangers during their journey. Fear and determination had reflected in those doe-like eyes and Thorin frowned, wondering what curse had been placed upon the line of Durin for it all to have fallen apart for them.

"Your Majesty? Thorin?"

Thorin blinked and focused on Óin's face that had started to become a bit blurred again. The other two Dwarves flanked him on both sides and they were looking grim and worriedly at him. Thorin blinked again.

"Yes?"

"King Daín wishes to speak with you, as does Balin", explained Óin and eyed the King critically. "Do you think that you have the strength to give them an audience? I would much prefer if you would rest, but they claimed that it's important that they speak with you."

Feeling as if the world weighed him down, Thorin nodded. He felt tired and hurt, pain running through his veins. He thought of asking Óin for something that could ease the pain, but instead, the words that came out of his mouth were words of a strength he felt he did not possess at the moment:

"Aye, send them in."

So, that was the first chapter! Any thoughts? Constructive criticism's welcomed if needed!

Next chapter should be up in a couple of days/next week.

Thanks for reading! :)