Kili

Trying to assist my brother back down the cliff was harder than I had imagined. It was slow, but we made it back down towards the battle. It had dimmed some. Most of the dwarves, elves and humans had beat down the orcs and other beasts. As long as we did not turn on ourselves, we will win this war.

Fili was breathing a little heavily next to me, but he would be okay. He had only hurt his knee from what I could tell, nothing fatal had befell on him. Instead of trying to go back to the mountain, I directed us towards Dale where we could get shelter faster than trying to get back to the mountain. "I am shocked you left her there," Fili whispered out. "I am shocked you came with me and left her there."

In honesty, it shocked me as well. The look in her green eyes that shouted that she could handle herself is what drove me away with my brother. Laurel was no normal halfling, she was a fierce warrior even if she had never trained a day in her life. Thorin was right, she had the spirit of a dwarf without any trace of it in her blood. Maybe it was another reason why I was so drawn to her.

"Laurel is tough," I sighed out harshly, "she will be okay. As long as she does not do anything rash and stupid—she will be fine."

"What do you think she has to do," he asked quietly as we drew closer to the tents near the edge of Dale, where there was no battle.

She could be right. Maybe she was brought back here to do something, but I would have thought it was to defeat Smaug. That task had long been completed, she did well—so what else would she have had to do still yet?

"I am not sure," I whispered back, "let us hope it is simple and she returns quickly."

Only about ten minutes had passed until the battle finally died out. With the combined efforts of the dwarves, elves and humans we had defeated the orcs and beasts. The tents I had taken Fili to soon filled with injured. I tried to stay by my brother's side, but I could not help but look at every face as it came close, hoping to see Laurel or even a member of the company. During my own battles and coming back down the cliff I worried about everyone.

Just as Oin was helping an elf into one of the tents—I felt a hot deep aching pain in my chest. It happened so strongly and deeply it brought me to my knees. All the sound and noises around me drowned out to nothing, the only thing I could hear was my blood pumping in my ears and my heart pounding in my chest. It hurt how hard it was thumping. "Kili," Fili's voice sounded concerned as he called out to me.

My hand rose, searching blindly for him as I tried to gasp for air. "Kili!"

Something was not right. Pressing my hands to my chest, I found that nothing had pierced me. There was no blood. What could have happened? Fili helped me up to my feet, the feeling of being drunk taking over me. "Breathe Kili," he hissed, limping and dragging me to the entrance of the tent, "I need you to breathe and tell me what is wrong!"

Outside was blinding white. The sun reflecting the snow and making it hard to see much. The air though was crisp and cold, easing the heat in my chest as I took one long staggering breath. "I do not know what happened," I gasped. "My chest hurts and is hot."

We sank to the snow together, one of his hands and both of mine on my chest. Everything slowed a fraction, the heat and ache still there but manageable. Together we sat for a while, watching my chest rise and fall, breath evening out.

After a few more deep breaths I looked up, taking in the people milling through the grounds. A small figure came rushing forward, dressed in regular clothing and barefoot.

Bilbo's normally curly brown hair was drenched, he looked panicked as he raced around asking questions. "Thranduil," he gasped collapsing in front of us moments later. "Have you seen Thranduil? Gandalf says we need—"

His eyes finally met mine, pausing his words. Dark circles covered the skin under his eyes. Tears lined his cheeks while the redness around his eyes stood out more than anything. Had he been crying? This was not the first time I had looked directly into Bilbo's eyes, but for some reason it was staggering. His face was oddly familiar to Laurel's, though not entirely. Just the roundness and his cheek bones resembled hers in a way. Shockingly his eyes were almost the same shape as hers, but a different color.

His fingers were shaking as he tried to scramble to get back up.

"The elf king," Fili asked, "What does Gandalf need him for?"

The hobbit's eyes would not leave my own as he stumbled backwards, muttering to himself and taking off again, yelling for Thranduil.

My own eyes stared to roam around, wondering if I could spot Thranduil myself. Instead they caught onto something else that took my breath away in the worst way possible.

In the distance I could make out a tall man in a grey cloak, walking quickly beside a much smaller figure. The smaller figure was walking swiftly as well, but it was carrying something—someone.

The moment my eyes locked onto the red hair flowing with the strides, my stomach heaved, and I turned to the side and felt it empty out of my mouth. My body understood what I saw faster than my head did. Still, I trembled as I tried to get up off the ground. Fili was questioning me, but every muscle in my body turned to fire as I finally found my footing and ran.

The closer I got, I started to see more. Gandalf's grey cloak was stained with dark red blood. Thorin was also covered in blood, his hair was drying the dark red substance in clumps. What brought me to a stop just a few yards from them was the pale white arm hanging limply from his grasp.

She was coated in blood. A long thick sword was protruding from her middle, making it awkward for Thorin to carry her. Green eyes that were darker than I had ever seen them, almost if they were black, were open, staring blankly—unblinking.

A deep agonizing sob left me as I dropped to the cold wet ground. Soon he was standing before me, and I was face to face with her.

Pale. She was so pale. Dirt covered part of her bruised face. Specks of blood covered her lips and chin. I could not breathe. There was no room to breathe with the blackness that filled my chest. Despair. The coldness from the ground left me in a hurry to be replaced with numbness.

"No," my throat was raw and burnt. It felt as if I had swallowed shards of glass and then poured spirts down along with it. "No, no no no no."

Thorin paused, but I still did not look up to him. Instead my shaking hand rose to touch her face. Another sob wrecked my body at the feeling of her cold skin. Soon everything became blurry through my tears, her beautiful face distorted as I sobbed.

In my mind I could picture every moment she had come into my life. It all happened so quickly. Remembering when she was little, dancing around in flowered dresses and giggling while her red curly locks spun. Growing up into each of her stages of life, watching all her heart breaks and each happy moment she experienced. I remember the last dream we shared, where we kissed, and I was amused with her actions. Even then it didn't feel real. It felt like a pleasant dream.

My arms ached when I thought back on how she fell from the sky into them. My chest ached when I remembered how I tore myself out of the rope by the troll fire pit and approached her—seeing her in front of me in real life for the first time. She had been as gorgeous as my dreams, even more so. So small but fierce, carrying my bow that she had used to kill the trolls. At the time it was enough to make me yearn for her hands on my flesh.

The first time we kissed left me breathless and wanting to consume her. Hands clenching, I sobbed again remembering the night at Beorn's, remembering the few times in the mountain I cornered her with kisses and my hands, finally getting to place a courting braid.

The night at Bard's came quickly in a panic. When I had been poisoned by the tip of the orc arrow everything became hazy as I neared death. I remember vividly her red thick hair shaking over me as her white scared face and eyes roamed my body. She chanted words I did not know but could feel. The love she had for me was clear as water to me then. Even with the edges of my vision going dark and blurry, she was the crisp in my eyes. The joy that filled me when I woke to find she had braided her hair into mine while I slept was almost erotic.

Right now, though, as she was laying limply in Thorin's arms I could see the new courting braid I had placed in her hair shortly after she had slain Smaug. The bead I had worn since before I could remember was glistening in the light, specks of red blood covered my family sigil.

Laurel. My One. The loss at a chance of love we never truly got to experience tore an agonizing cry out of my throat.

"Give h-her to me," I mourned, nose burning and running with the tears that had swept my face. Starring at her, I knew she was gone, but I still wanted to hold her body close to mine, if only for one more time.

"Kili—" Thorin's voice was equally raw. Not speaking again, he stepped beside me and started forward again.

A rage like no other filled me to the brim. It was a rage I had not even felt in battle. It was a rage that urged me to attack. "No," I snarled, turning to follow him. "Give. Her. To. Me"

Thorin did not even turn to face me, instead he strode forward faster, almost at a run with her in his arms.

Who did he think he was? Laurel was mine and she was gone now. All I wanted was to mourn for her properly before preparing her farewell. Was it something he did? Did he get her killed? A new fury filled me at the thought of my own flesh and blood doing something to cause the death of my beloved.

With hatred I started to follow, reaching for a sword I thought was at my waist and found nothing. Instead my hands worked into fists as I ran after him.

Just as I reached an arm out to grasp his shoulder to stop him, the world went sideways and I fell to the ground with weight on top of me, knocking the breath out of me. Tears were still streaming down my face as I turned to fight off whoever tackled me. Fili was grunting, trying to grasp my hands and hold them at my sides as he sat on my middle.

"Stop," he shouted urgently, "she is not dead yet! Gandalf and Thranduil are trying to save her!"

Panting I turned to see if he was lying to me.

Thorin was kneeling on the ground with Laurel limply in his arms. Thranduil and Tauriel stood with Gandalf above him.

"We have to work with Thranduil," Gandalf muttered. "I was able to freeze her body to prevent her from losing any more blood or take breath, but the moment I reverse the spell she is going to start bleeding out again."

Thranduil just glared down at Thorin, not saying anything or moving.

"After I reverse the spell, we will need to remove the sword and then—"

"Why should I save her," Thranduil asked coldly.

At his words the blood in my veins began to boil with that murderous rage again. Something in me screamed for his blood, to rip out his throat with my teeth as savage as a wolf. I grunted and growled underneath Fili, trying my best to get free as I cursed and shouted.

Gandalf scoffed, turning to the elf king and tapping his wooden travel stick on the ground. "You will save her because she has saved Middle Earth. You will save her because the Valar expect it of you," he shouted at the elf.

Thranduil did not flinch, he stared dully down at Thorin still.

Thorin did not raise his voice. Instead he gripped Laurel tighter and looked up at the king in despair. "I will do whatever you want, if you will save her. The starlight jewels are yours. The heart of the mountain. If you want to rule Erebor as your own, you can have it. If it would make you happy to take my life to save hers, you can slice my throat after she takes breath," he urged slowly.

Taken back I froze, no longer fighting my brother who tried to restrain me. Thorin offered the mountain and his life in place of hers? Everything we had worked for, I would gladly give up for her without hesitation, but Thorin? He had only just pushed aside the Dragon Sickness before we took battle, and now he was offering it all and his life for her? For my Laurel? The woman who is my One?

This statement not only surprised me, but it surprised Thranduil. His golden eyes widened as he started to crouch down to the ground with Thorin. "What is this halfling to you Thorin Oakenshield? I thought she was a mere chattel to you and yours," he questioned curiously. "Is it possible that Thorin Oakenshield has found love in something other than gold and power?"

Thorin lowered his head and nodded, "Yes. She was no chattel. I found love in this child and love her as if she were my own."

"For the price of the starlight jewels and this admission," Thranduil said as he rose his hands, "I will save her."

It happened quickly. Oin brought out supplies, aiding Gandalf and the elves. It was gut wrenching to watch Oin rip the sword from Laurel's body, coated in her blood. Quickly Thranduil and Tauriel pressed down on her wound with herbs and began to chant quickly in Elven. The air around them began to blur quickly. Their words were raising the hair on my arms and neck, my skin tingling with the magic that started to fill the air.

After another moment it suddenly stopped.

Laurel jerked forward suddenly and took a gasping breath. My body sagged in relief at the sight, laying limply in the snow. She fell back into Thorin's arms and breathing evenly, eyes closed.

The ache in my chest eased and I laughed, smiling and relaxing down into the ground beneath me even more. Tears were coming quickly down my cheeks, but they were tears of joy this time instead of heartache. She was alive.

Fili finally eased off me, helping me to my feet and over to Thorin and the others. Without question I knelt on the ground next to him, and he passed her body to me quietly. My lips descended onto her cheek, loving the feel of warmth beneath my chapped rough lips. "Thank you," I whispered hoarsely. "Thank you."

Her weight was nothing in my lap, she had always been so much smaller than me. My fingers wrapped into her hair, feeling the soft bulky locks of her braid press into my flesh. Blood still coated her. I grimaced as I pushed some of her blood caked hair aside to run my fingers over her face and lips. In a trance I watched her chest rise and fall with breath.

Laurel was alive.