The Battle of The Five Armies [Hobbit Fanfiction]

The White Light

- 4 -

The White light

Hallucinations. Bodies. And blood.

All painted a midnight black or a faded grey. The moonlight fell over the mountain tops of old and into the hollowed out caverns beneath the earths crust. It was a night fluttered with tiny white stars of the frosted snow at the dead of night. It had been at least ten minutes since I had seen a glimpse of any life forms and I begun to wonder if I'd seen anyone else.

"Balin. Balin!" A voice belted out load, but it was not a shout. It sounded as if it was painful to speak like a bellow coming from deep within. "He is here." An agonised wail as he picked me up and put my hand around his shoulders as he supported my back. I looked up to see Dwalin painted in red. His armour was like mine but made of steel and much larger to fit him. I looked up weary and scared. My eyes a waterfall and my body a waterfall of crimson blood. "You are hurt lad." He said as he placed his other hand on my stomach trying to stop the blood flowing stronger than it already was.

"I'm fine." I smiled softly but I wasn't fine, I was dying inside and in the scattered battlefield of men and dwarves and elves alike. I felt like crying but my body was too weak to bear any tears. With all the pain I have felt today I couldn't imagine anymore. It wasn't the slashes I took to my body, but the bowing heads of my brother and uncle as they fell into my arms. Dwalin picked me up along with two other dwarves with blonde and black braided beards covering their broad shoulders.

"You are heavy my King." He laughed as he pulled me up onto his shoulders. Then it stuck me, Fili was gone and so was Thorin. I didn't care little for kingship for Thorin was first inline, then Fili if Thorin had no sons.

I looked to the young lad, younger than me and full of hope that I once had. His sorrowful face looked up to mine in hope I would say something back to him. "I am not a king, a leader nor a ruler. I am a descendant of Durin, but I am no king. That right belongs to Thorin and his sons. I cannot be King for it is not my desire."

We passed bodies of dwarves, men and elves alike. A tiny red flame lit the halls of Erebor, it was cold and I could see my breath bounce off the walls of green. The men were either being healed or in a deep sleep in their sanguine bed. They lay me down on a white puffed bed with healers surrounded around the edges. The healers begun to undress me starting with my sliver shoulder pads and then down to my clunky iron boots to reach my deep wounds. They left on my blue top I scavenged earlier, blue always did suit me best and they left on my dark brown trousers that I wore when we first entered Erebor. I moved my hand down to my stomach, to see if it was still bleeding and the blood kept flowing just like when it was pricked by Azog's mace. Around the corner came a face and she sat by me as if she hadn't seen me in years. She sat on the left of me and crouched over the bed to mask my height.

"I broke my promise, I'm sorry." I said softly, my autumn leaf eyes looked up to my mothers face to see her smile, with a tear dribbling down the side of her cheek. I hadn't seen her delicate face and her fair smile in a long while. Her hair was a misty beige, a combination of both Thorin's colour and Fili's. She had green eyes that lit up like emeralds in the dark light casted over the room.

She put her hands in mine and bit deeply into her lips. "You didn't break that promise Kili." Her words were soft and gentle like the fur of a newborn lamb dancing in the fine wind on the first day of spring. "You brought us home, back to the ancient halls we once lived and prospered in and we will now once again thanks to you. Your actions, your decisions, your love and your valor have shaped your personality, and I cannot think of anyone more worthy of being my son and king but you and Fili." She pressed her warm lips against my forehead and her clement breath tickled my ensauguned temples above my eyes. "My darling son, I am proud to be with you on this day. And everyday before." The room flickered white to black to white to red but I could still hear her soft voice and her beautiful words that she spoke with wisdom and truth. "Do you remember when you and Fili used to pick roses from the flower patch at Fimaim's garden for me..." Her whole world was falling apart and my life flickered between the feeling of life and death. "and when you gave it to me. You told me that you would never leave me."

I held her had and smiled weakly. "And I'm sorry I did." My voice was inaudible but she could still make out what I said.

I laid my head upon the rim of the pillow. The hands from my mother fell towards my chest and then wrapped around my whole body. Her tears came down and into my face, and her soft hum and song put me to sleep like it did when I was young.

The screams died out after a while and the gentle lullaby from my mothers mouth became soundless like the soft murmur of a summer breeze. It was so peaceful and so quiet nothing stirring with awe and amazement and as you draw your last breath you have stop but everything around it still moving.

It a cloudless night and a yawning sea of dark blue that fell over my eyes. Then the world becomes white and the blood marks and blood stains are no longer visible.

In the distance a comforting welcome of a familiar face I cherished with all my heart. His two braids sat on the rim of his lip and his smile spread so wide that it tickled his laugh lines. A dwarf with black braids that sat on each shoulder and his smile so bright that I didn't recognise him. And I face I have missed ever since he had to leave me many years ago. His face and his blue eyes I had forgot but the memory of him was still deep within my heart.

These were the halls of my fathers they had sung about in songs of legends, and around the fire in the florescent coloured night.

And now I am part of them and the world has swept away. I can surely say that they live up to the legends the men tell us about as children.

And they have become part of my story.

A story that is at it's end.