One Shots » LotR

Snow After Fire

*set based on the Hobbit movies*

Thorin saw the eagles.

He saw his entire kingdom spread below his feet, the battlefield on fire and the bodies turning the earth black and grey.

Thorin saw it all. His heart felt every death.

The wound in his chest though, he did not feel. The warm blood staining his armor was but a faint tingling. The life trickling from the open wound was nothing more than a fading sting.

He couldn't quite breathe. Every gasp was a struggle, his throat slowly closing. And below his feet, every fading body slowly stilled.

He was dying.

The horizon had turned white with the number of souls traveling beyond the lands of Middle Earth. Thorin gasped for another pained and antagonistic breath.

How long would it take for his soul to join his kin?

Once more, he felt the shock as Azog's blade sunk into his chest. He saw the victory in the orc's eyes, mouth twisting into a triumphant snarl.

Slowly, Thorin grasped at his chest. Hot blood stained his fingers and he choked back sudden tears, gazing down upon the battlefield.

The sharp cry of the eagles filled the air.

"Fili and Kili, at your service."

There would be no one to fill his place, to take the throne. No more sons of Durin to lead or reclaimed kingdom.

For he had failed.

Suddenly the world spun and Thorin stumbled back, the pain striking him with a sudden angered viciousness and wrath. He felt it all then-- the despair and agony.

"Do you smell it, the scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it."

Thorin didn't quite feel the impact of the ground, even as the world spun. He gasped again, feeling his heart fluttered painfully slow.

In the sky above, the sun faded. The snow fell like white ashes and the cries of the armies quieted to nothing. 

Not a living soul moved.

He was going to die alone... Thorin gasped. There was no one there beside him, no chance that he would survive this.

In the end, he had failed in his quest.

He had failed his grandfather, his father. He had let down his people and his brothers, the kin of his blood and all those who had relied upon him the most.

He had failed Bilbo.

"Will you follow me... one last time?"

Thorin had not realized at that moment, how true his words were. He had never foreseen his own death... it was not like the stories.

For those who fought for good did not always survive.

But was he a hero? Struggling for breath, blood staining the cold ice. Thorin wouldn't help but wonder if he was truly the king that he had fought so hard to be.

"I am not my grandfather."

Yet here he was, alone and dying. He had given into the greed and lust, he had allowed the gold of his blood and the cursed Arkenstone to claim his mind. To turn him against those he cared for the most.

For he had led them to their deaths. He had hidden away as his own blood fell on the battlefield, he had cast aside all those who saw through his pain.