The screams and clashes of the battle had grown dim in Thorin's ears – the constant thudding of his own heart was now all he heard. He faced enemy after enemy, cutting down goblins swiftly and with ease. Fili and Kili, fighting alongside him, were equally successful with the butchery.

The journey had been taxing and had taken nearly six months – Aurvang would be furious and Thorin smiled at the memory of her ferocious face. But now there was a light at the end – soon the battle would be won, and the dwarfs could return to their mountain and live in peace in their birthright once more.

Suddenly there was an agonizing pain in his shoulder that spread across the rest of his body. An involuntary scream left his lungs, and Fili turned to him, horror extending across his own features. Thorin wanted to say he was fine, that he would recover, but the loss of feeling in his legs as he tumbled to the ground, still striking at foul goblins, told him otherwise. He stood again with difficulty and fought on.

The battle was won near sunset – it had gone on for hours, much longer than expected with many more participants. Thorin was immediately transferred to a sick tent succeeding the victory, his grievous wound alerting the wizard Gandalf and panicking the faithful men who had followed him on his quest.

The night was pure torment, and in Thorin's mind, useless. Couldn't he die already? Were the hours of pain truly necessary? He sent his friends away, fatigued, ill-tempered, and completely miserable. He had failed. The only consoling thought that entered his mind was that his son was safe, that Farin would not meet the same fate he himself had. Aurvang - sweet, stubborn Aurvang would never allow it, especially now. Perhaps he should have listened to her more. His thoughts rested on his soon to be widow and son as the sun filtered through the doors of the tent, bringing him comfort. White light spread across his vision and he felt like he was floating as the agony in his body and heart diminished. If this was dying, he could perhaps handle it better – at least there was no pain.

…

The bustling crowds that moved in and out of Erebor, carrying goods and supplies, did not notice me. Strangers were no longer uncommon under the mountain, due to the rebuilding and renovating. I took the most direct route to the lower halls, where Thorin had once taken me, before the dragon came, to see the mausoleums of his fathers.

I knew, from the freshly cut stone, exactly where Thorin had been laid to rest. An elegant Elven blade was mounted on the carved grave. I had known of my husband's death for months already, but within my aching heart I had still harbored hope that the message had been mistaken. The reality of the end of Thorin's life, and the beginning of lonely years for me, was overwhelming and I fell to my knees in front of the grave and wept. How was I to raise a son alone? He needed his father, and I needed my husband - my companion, my lover. Despair weighed on my shoulders.

I do not know how much time passed, and I did not come to my senses until a hand was placed on my shoulder. "My lady," a voice said. I turned and looked up, glad for the veil to hide my red, swollen eyes, and saw the dwarf Balin, who had accompanied Thorin on his desperate quest. "He regretted leaving you and Farin," Balin said gently. "More than anything."

"I hope that his success was worth the sacrifice," I said, nasally from all the crying I had done.

"I am not sure if it was. From the way he was speaking in his final moments, I am prone to think that he wished he had known that his happiness with you was worth more than all the gold in Erebor."

"All that is gold does not glitter," I said wistfully, quoting a well-known verse from east Middle-Earth. I rested my hand on Thorin's grave. "And the crownless shall again be King."

"Aye," Balin said solemnly. "Although Thorin was never crowned, he will always been known as one of the bravest and noblest of his kin."

I composed myself, taking a deep breath, and stood. "I will return to Norgod," I said. "Thorin insisted that if he died, that our son would take the throne there."

"Be well, my lady," Balin said. "I am sure that Farin will make an honorable king; his parentage could hardly allow else."

"What will you do now?" I asked.

"Myself and other dwarfs have been thinking that with the success of this quest we might attempt to take Moria once more."

"I wish you luck," I said, and we parted. I did not look back at my husband's grave.

…

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