Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the characters, but I'm pretty sure that he killed Thorin off, so I own his survival via First Age elven healing magic LOL
Pairings: none
Characters: Thorin, Fíli and Kíli (sort of), Maglor (mentions of Thorin's Company, Maedhros, Eöl and Celegorm)
Warning: extremely AU, random First Age elves, some canon character death (Thorin lives), depression, suicidal thoughts, precognition, angst in general
Song: Farewell Symphony
Words: 1,226
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fatality (noun): something established by fate; death resulting from a disaster; one that experiences a fatal outcome
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fatality
Later, Thorin would discover that it was only through the skills of his elven allies that he had even survived what was now called the Battle of Five Armies. His people called it a miracle, but Thorin thought it anything but.
If anything, it was divine punishment. And looking into the eyes of his saviors, he could see that they knew this all too well, that there was a greater motive behind their healing.
It was in their ancient, unforgiving eyes and their cold, stern voices. It was in their sorrow and their wary faces. Thorin had never understood any of them before, but he thought that now he knew why they were so somber, as if part of them had died and left their empty bodies behind.
That was certainly how he felt.
Losing Fíli and Kíli was like no other pain Thorin had ever felt. He now only had the upper half of his right leg, but the pain of such an injury paled in comparison to the ache that burrowed its way into his chest and refused to leave. Whatever it was, it squeezed around his lungs until it was hard to breathe and choked out any joy he might have felt at the reclamation of his home, the prosperity of his people and all the riches of Erebor, which now felt like an empty shadow of what he recalled in the golden glory of his youth.
Was this really what he had fought for?
Empty halls covered in dust. Mountains of gold that stared back at him with a dull glimmer. A bright white stone shining like a star, but so cold and distant, its beauty tarnished. There was the Company, of course, but none of them could replace the mischief or the laughter, could give back what his arms seemed to physically ache to hold. And none of them could look him in the eye.
Now, sitting stiffly in his study with nothing but a stack of requests and piles of paperwork waiting for his signature, Thorin felt completely hollow. Had this really been what he desired?
The dwarrow sighed heavily and lowered his face into his hands, stubbornly ignoring the sting at the corners of his eyes. If he had looked in the mirror, he knew that he would see nothing even remotely resembling his proud self--the proud and stubborn Thorin Oakenshield who had set out upon this journey less than a year past--but would have only a phantom, pale-faced and strained, thinner and haggard, staring back like a faded relic.
If he was honest with himself, this life was killing him slowly. All the people tiptoeing around him as though he might at any moment break and go berserk like a rabid animal. The whispers behind his back, barely within earshot, and the cold glances.
But worse still were the elves. Where once Celegorm had favored him with cool fondness, there was now only blame and fury lingering beneath his icy facade. Eöl did not even pretend to hide his anger and disgust, and were it not for the fact that Thorin had been severely injured and on death's door after the Battle, he imagined the dark-haired smith would have beaten him within an inch of his life and then some. Even Lord Maedhros was hard to look in the eyes; he knew that he had thrown away something the elf lord would have given anything to possess.
And then there was the memory of Himring. Seventy-seven years, he had ignored it, but now he could not wash away the experience of walking on the shores, of hearing the mysterious being singing, lamenting to the sea.
Could not erase the memory of his nephew's still, dead faces. Could not erase the glowing, despairing eyes of the stranger.
"What did you see, Master Dwarf?"
"Emptiness. Loneliness."
Why had he not listened? Why had he not understood?
"I would give anything to have back what is rightfully mine..."
"I hope the cold light of the Heart of the Mountain and the golden glow of lifeless treasure please your soul."
"You know nothing of it!"
"I do wonder, though, if you know the meaning of anything."
"There is nothing I possess that I value enough that I would not sacrifice it for my home and my people, my birthright!"
"I do believe your determination with win you your mountain back one day, Master Dwarf. Maybe then you will understand that such oaths should not be spoken lightly in the heat of passion."
He understood. Oh, how he understood!
The price that fate had asked in exchange for his home had not been a price he was willing to pay. But he had paid nonetheless for his foolish pride, for the gold sickness, for losing sight of what truly mattered, the treasure he had already possessed.
His sweet boys, little Fíli who had aged before his time but remained happy and joyous in the care of his baby brother, and Kíli who had never even known his parents, who looked to Thorin as the only father he could remember having. The pair of them had been full to the brim with life, so excited for this journey, aching to see the halls with which their uncle spoke so fondly, to finally be home and not living off meager work in the towns of men, not saving every bit of coin in order to feed themselves in the winter. More so, they had believed in him, followed him to the very end, and thrown themselves between him and death in a show of love more powerful than Thorin could bear to think upon.
And now he was alone. And he just wanted it to end. To end...
He should not even have been here, should have passed with his nephews and joined them in the Halls of the Waiting. At this moment, Thorin did not know if he could stand another second of his existence, for he dare not call it life. His life had ended on the bloody battlefield that had won him back the ancient halls and countless riches.
And if he was sobbing, no one was there to see his despair.
No one was there to stop his hand as it touched the elven blade that had served him so faithfully.
No one was there to stay his hand when he held it to his throat. And even when he came to his senses and dropped it to the floor with a resounding ring, echoing through the room like broken glass, no one came running.
No one was there when he steeled his heart and bit his lip til it bled, rubbed salt in his hidden wound and pulled his paperwork close. If there was one thing Thorin knew more acutely than ever, it was that he hadn't the right to run away from the punishment for his greed and pride and blindness to what was truly important.
No one was there to witness the final breaking of his spirit or the empty shell left behind, atoning for his sins.
No one was there to witness the Battle claim its final fatality.
He was alone.
And he knew he deserved his fate.
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Angstfest much. For some reason, today just was not a happy day at all, and this isn't exactly a happy topic either LOL. I did get to take a nap in the afternoon, though, and that helped a bit, but I still have a horrid headache.
On the other hand, I don't know how this ended up fitting so well with the "Experience". I'd actually originally intended to write this one about Dís's death, but it just sort of went on its own way again. Happens to me a lot *sigh*. The music, of course, didn't help, ne. I actually have a couple of songs that I've been thinking about for Dís's death-scene or burial, but Farewell Symphony (by BrunuhVille) was not one of them.
And, as a side tangent, I totally think Thorin deserves it. I don't hate him or anything, but his nephews died for him, and I have always thought that if anything it should have been the other way around, royalty be damned. Who cares about the freaking mountain anyway. So yeah, that's why only Thorin survives.
In case this is too depressing, have a virtual cookie and cute artwork: Thorin and little nephews by *Kadeart0 and Gettin Tall by ~sey-kurohashi on dA. There's tons of cute fanart out there <3.
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