Standard disclaimers apply.

My longest chapter is now followed by my shortest chapter.

Enjoy!

/Now I See Fire, Inside the Mountain/

It was the morning after the Battle of the Five Armies, the combined might of the armies of the Iron Hills, Esgaroth, and Mirkwood crushing the army of goblins, wargs, and orcs, with only a few, Bolg being among them, escaping back to the holes from whence they came.

There were minimal casualties among the men, elves, and dwarves, among them Authast and Asgaranwar, who were considered forgiven by their king for their sacrifice, but there were plenty of people who were injured, so the healers of the three peoples were more than busy taking care of their injured comrades.

There were some people, however, who had yet to be found dead or alive, Sam among them.

But that did not stop the leaders of the different peoples from arguing with each other in a meeting that had originally been meant to be the beginnings of a series of trade and peace meetings to help ensure the prosperity of their region.

Which had led to the massive argument going on between Thranduil, Bard, Thorin, Balin, and Dain about who was owed what and how much, the dwarves outright rejecting the claims of the elves and men on any treasure from within the mountain, Gandalf and Bilbo trying to mediate the dispute with little success.

Balin and Thorin were all but completely free of the dragon sickness at this point, the battle and death of Azog having given them back their sense and awareness, while it had not quelled the greed the sickness brought on, they were themselves as they argued, for the most part, because it would take something quite dire and shocking to bring them out of the sickness completely.

So they all kept arguing about the terms of the peace treaties and trade agreements, all of them getting progressively angrier and louder as it became obvious that they were not all on the same page.

And then Tauriel came in.

The she-elf entered in the midst of their argument and, with nary a word and a sorrowful look on her face, she placed a set of hole ridden and bloody elven armor on the table, reverently, as if it was some relic of someone or sometime long past.

Gandalf and Bilbo went silent as soon as they saw the armor, knowing exactly what it meant if it had been found without it's wearer, Bilbo's face becoming stricken, producing an anguished sound before burying his face in Gandalf's robes, clinging to him. The old wizard could only stare down at the armor, holding the now grieving hobbit to him, feeling older than he had in an age, because of what had obviously been lost, unable to do anything besides think: It was not supposed to be this way. This is wrong, so, so wrong, in so many ways.

Thranduil and Legolas were the next to notice the armor, but before they could ask Tauriel why she had left it on the table, both of them realized the significance of the armor, recognizing how it had been altered to fit someone much shorter than an elf, but much narrower than a dwarf. The realization left Thranduil and Legolas in shock as their eyes widened, their faces quickly morphing from shock and disbelief to sadness and sorrow, and they fell silent, their grief for who had been lost and how much they still owed them weighing upon both royal elves, both bowing their heads to the armor in respect to the one who had fallen helping to protect them all, who had only wanted to see a peace grow between the dwarves, elves, and men, before staring at the armor with grief filled eyes.

Bard and Dain were the next to go silent, as they realized just whose armor what sitting on the table, destroyed as it was, as they had seen it being fitted and worn before they were all separated into their assigned groups. Bard grieved for the girl who was barely older than his own daughter, for all of the life, love, and laughter she should have had the chance to enjoy, but now would never get the chance to experience. Dain had not wanted her to pay the price she had so adamantly said she would, and he knew that his cousin and his Company would never be the same again, the loss of someone so precious would weigh heavily on them for the rest of their lives, because they would no doubt blame themselves, even if it was not their fault. So Dain grieved for her, for them, for all of those whose lives she had touched and would never touch again, and he grieved for himself, because he would never get the chance to truly know the young woman or how she had wormed herself into the heart of his perpetually icy cousin, Erebor and her dwarves had lost a great ally and friend indeed.

Thorin and Balin were the last ones to go quiet, though neither understood why the others in the tent had done so, though they were slightly dismayed by the sound Bilbo had produced and the way he now cried into the stricken wizard's robes, Thorin and Balin were still angry with Bilbo for giving away the Arkenstone, but they were now able to realize the reasoning behind the actions, and so he was forgiven, both dwarves now worried for their hobbit and why he was crying, and old Gandalf, because they had never seen the wizard look so old, and haunted.

However, Thorin and Balin looked at the destroyed set of elven armor quizzically and with no small amount of annoyance on their faces, as they did not understand it's significance and why it had drawn such reactions from the others in the tent, nor did they understand why Tauriel thought it was alright to so interrupt their meeting with it.

Thorin looked up at Tauriel from his place almost directly across from her at the table, knowing she had been out looking for those yet found among the bodies of the slain, with aide from Beorn, who had come at the end of the battle with the eagles and helped to kill the last of the creatures of darkness.

The bear man able to sniff out those who did not belong among the bodies of the wargs, goblins, and orcs, making Tauriel's job easier, if only in the realm of discovery, not in dealing with what she found, which the set of armor appeared to be.

Tauriel remembered the anguished roar the shape-shifter had sent up to the sky at the discovery of the armor, the familiar scent on it telling him exactly who it belonged to, he had sniffed around it, as far around it as he feasibly could, for some minutes, looking for some trace of evidence that his discovery did not mean what he thought it meant, did not mean that one so kind, accepting, and full of life was gone, but Beorn found no scent leading away from the armor, he found nothing to tell him the blood was not hers, that she yet may live and had only lost it, he smelled nothing but a fait whiff on the wind from the armor itself, so, with a heavy heart, he returned to where Tauriel kneeled beside it, her head bowed and mumbling prayers.

Beorn picked up the armor and cradled it in his arms for a few moments, bowing his head as tears, something he had not shed in a long time, so numb to the world around him in his solitude as he had become, rolled down his face, as he grieved and sent up his own prayers. Beorn had then taken a deep breath and sighed a sigh that only one who had seen too much death and loss in his life could, had looked out into the distance for a few moments, and then had carefully handed the armor to Tauriel, bidding her," Be kind to the dwarves, despite their faults and their mistakes, they loved her deeply, I saw just how much so in my own home, not but a few months ago, and they will all mourn her passing, and be affected by it, more than the rest of us will ever know, so be kind. The blame and guilt they will bear for the rest of their lives is more than any the rest of us could possibly place on their shoulders."

Tauriel had then set out for the tent she knew the leaders were meeting in, to deliver the news, unwilling to go to the rest of the Company and tell them before their king, for he should be the one to deliver such dire news to them, not someone they did not even consider a friend, who could offer them no comfort in their grief.

This was how she now found herself in the tent, the armor lain on the table, all but those who would be hurt most understanding what it meant.

Tauriel saw how Thorin looked confused and, before he got the chance to ask the question on his lips, even though it broke her heart to say the words, to know what it would do to the proud king and his Company, what it would do to them all, mean for them all, she spoke," It is Sam's armor, armor that I altered for her myself, and it was all I found."

Now Balin and Thorin were staring at Tauriel, their faces horror stricken, their blood running cold and all the color draining from their faces as they realized what it meant, what the armor sitting on the table meant for their lass.

Thorin and Balin suddenly understood why Bilbo was crying, why Gandalf looked stricken, why Bard looked grieved, but they thad no idea why the elves and Dain seemed to be upset by this news, but they didn't care, they didn't care because that armor, covered in blood, Sam's blood they realized as their eyes widened in horror, feeling sick to their stomachs, and holes as it was, meant that their lass was dead, their Sam was dead, and it was all their fault.

It was all their fault.

Balin and the others had been so taken by the dragon sickness that they did not see the sense in trying to force a peace between the elves, men, and dwarves, they did not understand why Bilbo and Sam had done such a thing as give the Arkenstone to their enemies, the people they shouldn't have even seen as enemies, and they had still been too wrapped up in their greed and anger and selfishness that they hadn't gone to Sam or Bilbo's aide on the battlements. They had done absolutely nothing to protect them when Thorin had nearly killed them both in his madness, when he had banished them from Erebor, from their very lives, something that none of them would have ever wished, that they knew, they knew, Sam and Bilbo didn't deserve, but they had let it happen anyway, and Sam's death was the end result.

In not protecting Sam and Bilbo on the battlements the Company had abandoned them, abandoned Sam, abandoned her to fight without them at her side, without them to protect their dear lass, they had abandoned her to fight alone in a sea of strangers and enemies, and, without them to watch her back, as they had from the very beginning, as she had them, she had fallen, and the orcs had taken her body for food, leaving only her armor behind.

They had betrayed Sam, and their betrayal had killed her, and they would live with the guilt of that crime for the rest of their lives.

Thorin could only blame himself, because he was the one who had nearly killed her, had banished her when she had only been trying to do right by them all. It was Thorin who had doomed Sam to fight without her friends, her family, at her side, and she had payed the price, they had all payed the price, a price that none of them ever would have been willing to pay, had they known, had Thorin known, and now that girl who had told them stories by the fire, who had sung for them, cooked for them, cared for them, who had loved them with all her heart, who had been willing to die for them, to protect them all, was dead.

If Thorin hadn't allowed himself to be taken by the dragon sickness, if he hadn't succumbed to the same madness that had destroyed his father and grandfather, she would be here now, she would be safe and alive and happy with the Company, but Thorin had banished her, and now Sam was gone, gone, gone, and it was all his fault.

Thorin reached out his hand, his eyes wide with disbelief and a bone deep sorrow, as Balin just continued to stare, though they old dwarf looked ready to collapse from the grief and the shock as tears dripped down his face, a hand pressed to his mouth, and Thorin ran his fingers over the armor, gently, reverently, and tears began to drip from his eyes as the fact Sam was really, truly dead hit him like a ton of bricks, the dwarf retracting his hand as if burnt before he leaned against the table, needing the support, bowed his head, and wept.

What had he done?

The elves, Bard, and Dain, though none quite kew how much Sam had meant to the Company, how much they had loved her, were moved, and decidedly unsurprised, by the emotion overtaking Thorin and Balin, and they all knew the meeting was over for the day, for none of them were any longer in any emotional state to be discussing treaties, so they made to leave.

That was when they head Bilbo's voice, weak and wet though it was," Wait!"

They all turned to regard the hobbit, unsure what he could possibly want them to wait for, Thorin and Balin now sitting on crates in the corner of the tent, their foreheads pressed together as they cried, Thorin's pride no longer caring that the elves and Bard were watching them cry, as it seemed so trivial in light of what had been lost," Sam," Bilbo hiccuped and wiped away some of his tears, a slightly determined look in his eyes, despite his grief, despite the pain brought on by the name of the wonderful young woman he would never see alive again," Sam left letters for all of you, just...just in case..."

Bilbo couldn't finish his sentence, his grief too great, so he simply brought out the bundle of letters Sam had left with him, and began to hand them out to whom they belonged, though they all did so with heavy hearts, none knowing what Sam's last words to them would be, but having a feeling that they would only make them grieve her passing all the more.

After Balin and Thorin had taken their letters from their hobbit with shaking hands, the two dwarves, hobbit, and wizard knew what they would next need to do, and they were not looking forward to it.

/I See Fire, Burning the Trees!/

The Company's tent, because none of them would be separated from the others, no matter the grumbling from some of the dwarves of the Iron Hills about the princes and king bunking with commoners, was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The Company was just staring at Thorin, Balin, Bilbo, and Gandalf, not quite believing what they had just been told, that Sam was dead.

Kili, with his left arm in a sling, had collapsed on the side of Fili's cot, where the elder prince had propped himself up, as his right knee was badly injured, both of them staring at their uncle, who they could see was truly free of the sickness now, in utter shock and disbelief. Kili began to shake his head, tears coming to his eyes as he chanted 'No' under his breath, before burying his face in his brother's neck, beginning to weep, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

Fili looking utterly lost as he held his brother, tears beginning to roll down his own face as he continued to stare, his head shaking from side to side almost imperceptibly.

The last time either Kili or Fili had seen Sam she had been in tears and terrified, but alive, atop the battlements, before they were forced to leave her, neither quite willing to believe that Sam was dead, that the woman who had grinned with them, laughed with them, trained with them, that had seen them all butt naked and laughed it off, was dead, that the girl who had appreciated them for them and told them to never change because the world needed people like them, was dead.

Bofur was glad, in the very back of his mind, because he was currently in shock and about to break down in tears, that he had been laying down when his king had delivered the news of Sam's apparent death, despite the fact that it was because of a gaping slash in his thigh, because he was sure he would have collapsed.

Bifur, his right arm in a sling, actually had collapsed on the side of Bofur's cot and Bombur, some bandages on his chest, had fallen to his knees beside his brother and cousin, because none of them could believe it, none of them could believe that the life of their dear lass had been snuffed out far too soon because of a battle, a battle they should have fought by her side in. The last completely clear memory any of the Broadbeams had of Sam before they were taken by the dragon sickness was of the night of Smaug's demise, when they were all laughing and singing and happy, so happy, and Sam was happy, she was safe and healthy and alive, so very, very alive, and now she was dead.

The Broadbeams couldn't believe that the girl they had taught to carve was dead, who had made a language so she could speak with Bifur was dead, that had cooked with Bombur and Bilbo was dead, and it was just wrong, so, so wrong, on so many levels that she was dead. They could all feel it in their souls that this was not how it was meant to be, they were all meant to remain the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, not lose the one of them that never should have even been there in the first place, the girl who had only come along with them out of the kindness of her heart, not out of greed or a desire for adventure or fame, but because she had just wanted to help them get their home back.

Sam shouldn't have died, if any of the Company should have died it should have been one of the dwarves, because it had never been her quest, her home to retake, her battle to fight, and she never should have had to face her final battle alone, and it was all because she wanted to help them, to protect them, even from themselves, because she loved them.

Bofur turned his head away from his king as he began to weep, mourning the loss of the girl they had met in Bag End, of the girl who had called him Bofur of the Floppy Hat, who had given Bifur a chance that few would, who could see Bombur as the kind dwarf he was, and they all wept, Bifur doubling over as Bombur pressed his face into his big brother's pillow, the fabric quickly soaking wet with tears.

The brothers Ri all stood in stunned silence, before Ori collapsed back on his cot, his face in his hands, despite the fact that his left arm was in a sling, and he began to cry, because he could see the armor that Tauriel had brought to Thorin and Balin, could see the holes and the blood, and he knew Sam was dead, because there was no way she could have survived such wounds, not without immediate medical aide. Ori was in shock and he didn't know what to think, he only knew he grieved, he mourned Sam, because she had been like a sister to him, one he had looked forward to spending the years with in Erebor, and now she was gone.

Dori and Nori leaned against each other, both covered in an assortment of bandages, arms around one another, as Dori began to cry and Nori just looked stricken, his eyes wide, a few tears trickling out as he stared at the armor. They had failed her, failed her in so many ways, they had failed to save Sam as she had saved Dori and Ori, failed to take care of her like they had said they would at the base of the Carrock. They had failed to take care of the girl who had become so dear to them, they all had, but, in Nori's mind, he had failed her the most, because he hadn't taught her how to fight well enough, he hadn't had enough time to train her so she would be ready for a battle like this, and, because he hadn't been a good enough teacher, Sam had died, killed by multiple stab wounds, alone on the battlefield, suffering and in pain, while they had all been under the influence of the dragon sickness, acting like idiots and unaware of the world at large, she had slipped away, to a place they could not follow, somewhere they could not save her from. It was the thought that he would never see Sam, that girl who had proved his suspicions wrong at every turn, who had earned his trust and his friendship and his loyalty and his love, ever again that broke Nori, and he and Dori collapsed to their knees, their foreheads pressed together and wept, Ori soon joining them, needing the comfort their presences provided.

Dwalin's thoughts were much the same as Nori's as he stumbled towards his brother and pressed their foreheads together, because he was sure that Sam's death could have been prevented, if only they had not fallen to the dragon sickness, if only they had remembered what was really important, what they had wanted the mountain back for, but they hadn't, and Sam had paid the price, a price none of them would have been willing to pay, if only they'd known, if only they hadn't been so lost to the madness. So Balin and Dwalin simply held onto each other, standing there near the entrance to the tent, and grieved, and both of them came to the conclusion they had grieved far too much in their lives, lost too many, lost too much, and they were both so tired, so tired of watching those too young, who had not deserved to die, pass before two old warriors, and their souls felt heavy with their grief, with their loss, but all they could do now was grieve, because Sam, was gone, and you couldn't bring back the dead.

Oin and Gloin simply sat on a cot, side by side, their heads pressed together and cried, they grieved for the lost and the living, because their lives would never be the same, none of their lives would be, and this was not the kind of change either of them had hoped would result from their quest, because it was not for the better, because a young woman who could only be described as a treasure was lost because of a treasure, a treasure that could never hope to be as precious as she had been.

And they all blamed themselves for her death, because they all knew, in their heart of hearts, it was not supposed to be this way, and that it was their fault, all their fault, because Sam should not have died for their sakes, should not have suffered for them as she had, even if she was willing.

If they had not let the treasure take hold of them, the treasure of the Company would still be alive.

Bilbo watched his friends grieve the lost of Sam, their dear, dear lass, and thought of what Sam had said to him, barely a day ago, about wanting their last memories of her to be good, not bad and filled with grief, so, with a heavy sigh and heavy heart, he began to pass out the letters, the last pieces of Sam they had.

/And I See Fire, Hollowing Souls!/

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf the Grey, Bard, King of Dale, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills, Beorn, Tauriel, and Legolas all stood solemnly in front of the funeral pyre that had been built for Sam, all of their tears cried, but still bearing expressions of incredible grief upon their pale, tired, and pained faces.

They had decided to burn Sam's armor in place of her body, as there was none to put to rest anyway.

As the Company watched the armor burn, they all remembered the girl they had met at Bag End and who she had become to them, and they thought about the letters she had left behind for them, about all she had said, the last words of hers they would ever read.

Sam had told them all how much she loved them, what she loved about them, like the merry twinkle in Bofur's eye or Kili and Fili's laughter or Nori's deviousness, and she had told them not to change and go on with their lives and be happy, and they would try, they would try to honor their lass's last wishes. They would all try to take care of each other and preserve that which made them all so unique and dear to Sam, like Ori's curiosity or Balin's kindness or Gloin's passion, and live happy lives without her, but they had so many regrets, so many things they wished they had been able to tell her, they wished they had been able to do.

Sam had thought to write down what she wanted them to know, what she had wanted to tell them, if she died, and they all wished they had thought to do the same.

But what truly broke their hearts was the fact that she did not blame them, that she forgave them for their mistakes, that she did not hold them responsible for her fate, and that she didn't want them to destroy themselves with guilt over what had happened.

Sam had told them that she loved them all dearly, that she prayed for prosperity for Erebor and happiness for the Company, and she told them they would all see each other again someday, and she would gladly wait for them all so the Company could be reunited in death as it had not been in life, and that, that hurt more than anything else, because she forgave them and she loved them, she loved them so much and they had betrayed her, and they knew, they knew, that, even though Sam had forgiven them, they would never be able to forgive themselves, because this was so wrong, so, so, so wrong.

The world had become so dark, so dark now with Sam dead, and it would never come to light again.

But, as they all stood there watching the last vestiges of Sam burn, mourning and grief stricken, tears cried and still so many yet to cry, numb to the world in the aftermath of the Battle, of the success of their quest, of everything they had experienced and done, and of everything they had lost, the one that never should have been lost, Kili couldn't help but feel he had lost something much more than just a friend, something much more precious.

Kili couldn't help but feel that in losing Sam he had lost the One who would have been his everything, who would have held his heart and loved him until the end of his days, and Kili grieved, he grieved for what they both had lost and what now could never be.

/I See Fire, Blood in the Breeze!/

Hm, no body? No body and only some armor to indicate Sam's dead? Well, that does sound like the makings of another story, now doesn't it? ;)

So be on the look out for the sequel and continuance of this story: A Changing World, A Changing Life