Story The Long Road [The Hobbit, LOTR] [AU]

This one is set in an AU to the films and books (and for the Dear Diary Challenge). It is a scenario I wanted to role-play but finding interested parties is tough, so I decided to turn it into fan fiction instead. It takes place after the Battle of the Five Armies, which you'll see in a moment. I hope people like it! (I would have started posting it sooner, but I was writing the backgrounds of the characters in this, which has delayed my posting of it.)

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In the Halls of Healing​

It seemed to Kili that he had been drifting through the cosmos for an eternity and he had seen, no imagined many strange wonders beyond his comprehension. Slowly, he began to become aware of his physical surroundings again. First, the bed beneath his back and then pain, much pain throughout his body. The worst was centered around his abdomen, but he cannot recall for the life of him what had happened to him. The last thing he remembered was charging towards Ravenhill astride a battle goat, with his uncle, Fili and Dwalin with him. His mind shoots off random thoughts. Where was that battle goat? Was it dead? A sudden feeling of dread over came him, one which he couldn't shake. What had happened to Fili and his uncle? He heard voices around him, none of which were familiar to him, but one. That voice belonged to Oin. Oin. So Oin was here, where-ever here was. There were two possibilities that sprung to his muggled mind...

The first, and to him the most likely because the sleeping draughts he had been given to help him heal were affecting his thinking, was that he was in the Halls of Mahal. It would explain the strange, drifting sensation he had experienced in his draught induced sleep. A small smile spread across his face. If Mahal's Halls was indeed the place he was located, then the others of the company must still be living, and only in and Oin were....

But if that were so, then why did he feel pain? He was sure that if he was in the Maker's Halls, then there would be no pain in his body at all, and that knee of his was almost as bad as the pain shooting through his abdomen. He uttered a groan, not because of the pain he was in, but because one of those strange, random thoughts popped into his head as he lie there. If he was in somewhere in Erebor, then apart from Oin's company, he was alone, for he recognized none of the other voices and that meant his uncle and the others of the company were gone, and they were the ones residing in Mahal's Halls.

He felt strong hands lift him into a sitting position and a mug pressed against his lips. He is told to drink, and he does so, drinking too quickly. He chokes and coughs, because it has been some time since he last drank and his mouth and throat are parched. Ever patient, Oin waits until he recovers himself and he tells him to try again, but this time drinking more slowly. He does so, and he loses his hold on reality, and that drifting sensation soon returns as the sleeping draught takes effect. He dreams.

***​

He regained consciousness some time later. He had no idea how much time had passed since the battle, or since he was last aware of his surroundings. He remembered, or thought he remembered being awake, but his mind was full of fog and confusion. How long ago had it been? The pain was less now, but was that because he had begun to heal, or was it because the sleeping draught Oin had given him still was still in effect? The one pain that didn't hurt less was that in his leg where the Morgul arrow had struck him. He could hear voices, but none of them were the ones he longed to hear, those of his brother and his uncle. Where was Dwalin? Had he been injured too? For the moment, that was a mystery. He was thirsty, his throat dry enough to cause him to cough. His cough was loud enough to catch the attention of a passing dwarrowdam who rushed off to fetch a tankard of water. She placed it into his hands, and as he brought it to his lips, he spilled half of it because the sleeping draught was effecting his movements. He was just glad when the cool water touched his lips and he was able to rid his throat of the dryness. Taking note that he had spilled it, the dwarrowdam took the empty tankard off him and went away to refill it. When she returned, he was able to get a good look at her for the first time. She seemed tired, and sorrowful. He tried to speak to her, but his voice came out hoarse and he had to take another drink before he could make himself understood.

"Thank you, my lady. Tell me, is there any word at all of my Uncle, and my brother? I fear they may have gone to the Halls of the Maker."

She looks at him, blankly, as she clearly didn't know who he was - to her, he was just another dwarven solider who had been hurt in the battle who needed care to recover. "I am sorry, but I don't know. If you tell me who you are, I shall see about inquiring for you." He lifts up his hand to show her the ring that was on his finger, and gives her an amused smile.

"You don't recognize one of your princes when you see him? I am Kili. King Thorin is my uncle. I've heard no word of his fate, or that of my brother, Fili."

She looks at him in shock for a moment before bowing her head in respect. "Of course! I shall see to it right away, my lord." She rushes off to make inquiries.

 

Oh what a fine beginning. Kili's understandable concern and muddle of thoughts comes through clearly & I hope he gets welcome news!

 

Yes, an update, at last. I've not had a great deal of time to write fan fic because I had some personal stuff to deal with, and we lost our dog last summer, so I took a break out of doing fandom stuff in general. I now, at last, finally have office on the computer, so I can access my One Note files again, so there might be some updates for the Kili/Hilda story soon.
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In a chamber not far away from the healing halls, in a place he had chosen to set up shop close enough to the healing halls so that he could get news quickly of any changes regarding the status of the king and his nephews, Balin sat down wearily at the makeshift table.

The dwarrow felt old, older and wearier than he had when Thrain disappeared in Mirkwood during their ill-fated expedition to the Lonely Mountain years before. He felt tired, and the last few weeks since the end of the Battle of the Five Armies had not been a cause for celebration for him.

It had been touch and go for the king and his nephews and he'd had to deal with the very real possibility that all three would depart for the Halls of the Maker. He had been torn between hoping that his old friend would survive and making preparations for the possibility that he wouldn't. Dain was willing to lead their people if it came down to it, but the thought put ashes in the old dwarf's mouth. After all they had been through, to not see Thorin take his grandfather's throne seemed cruel.

The first thing he had done when Beorn and Dwalin had brought the broken bodies back to the mountain was pen a letter to the king's sister, informing her of the situation. He knew that she would come as swiftly as she could, but as he rolled the parchment up and sent the raven on his way, he felt that the king and her sons would be long entombed by the time she arrived and that she would never see them alive again. A lump came to his throat then, thinking of the losses that dwarrowdam had suffered already and he dreaded adding to that list. While they still breathed, however, there was hope and he had to content himself with that.

He was about to begin penning a missive regarding the placement of guards at the main entrance to the Mountain, (although an uneasy truce now existed between Erebor and the survivors of Lake-Town, none of the dwarves were convinced that trouble had entirely dissipated from that quarter. The renewed kingdom of Erebor was very fragile and would remain so until more of their people arrived and stability came to the men of Lake-Town.) when he heard an hesitant knock on the door to the chamber.

Balin shot to his feet immediately, the security of the Mountain forgotten for now and strode across the floor like a warg was on his tail. If this was good news or ill, he was anxious to know it. He opened the door to find a dishevelled, exhausted looking dwarrowdam standing there. She addressed him with an uncertain note in her voice.

"Are ye Lord Balin? Ah have a message for ye, if ye are."

Balin gave her a reassuring smile.

"Aye, lassie, I am he. What is the message?" From her demeanour, he expected the worst. It didn't register to him at that moment that she was just over awed in having to deal with high ranking members of the king's family.

"It's the king's nephew, the younger one, sir. He's awake!" she answered, breathlessly.

Relief flooded through the old dwarrow at her news. At least some of the worry was lifted from his shoulders, but whether Kili was in a fit state to assume the throne if it was needed was another matter entirely. There was still no news as to the condition of Thorin, or Fili, but it seemed that Kili was alive! At least when Dis finally arrived in Erebor, there would be some good news for her, at least. The news was like a ray of light at dawn after a long night of turmoil and despair, and some of the weariness left his body to be replaced with a new vigour.

"Lead the way, lass! Lead the way!"

The dwarrowdam prattled on as they made their way to the chamber where Kili resided. Balin noticed now that the dwarrowdam was quite nervous in his company and it that it had taken her awhile to find him. There was a lot of confusion in the Halls of Healing as the dwarves went about the business of caring for the injured. Being a people drawn to mining and working with stone, metals and gems, healing was not something that was a common occupation among their folk, and as such there were few skilled healers among them. They were no-where as near as sophisticated as the elves when it came to the healing arts. Some, like their very Oin who were, could be just as inclined to be influenced by superstition and the supernatural as they were by the methods of science. Some elves from Mirkwood had given their assistance in the early days right after the battle, and that meant more dwarves had survived than they otherwise would have done. The wizard, Radagast, whom was more knowledgeable about nature than his peer Gandalf, had been a boon to them and the Men and elves that had been wounded in the battle. The elves were gone now having disappeared with their king back into Mirkwood Forest and Radagast had returned to his home in Rhosgobel.

Of the Men, most of those who were able had returned to Dale and had begun the long work of rebuilding their home. Lake-Town would eventually be rebuilt, but it would take some years to complete it so the Men were now sheltering in the more stable buildings still standing in Dale. There was still the matter of the Desolation that scarred the land, but that was not Balin's priority for now. Now, it was to see to the needs of Thorin's nephew.

When they arrived at Kili's beside, it was to find the young prince was sat up in bed, looking rather pale and in some considerable pain. Balin dismissed the dwarrowdam and it was only when she was gone that Balin realised that he'd not asked her for her name. The lass needed to be rewarded for eagle-eyedness in noticing that the prince was finally awake.

Balin removed a book that some dwarrow had left on a chair beside the prince's bedside before sitting down on it.

"How are ye feeling lad?" Balin asked. Kili looked terrible, but it was courtesy to ask before they got down to business. The lad needed to know how his uncle and brother were doing.

Kili smiled, grimly. "Like I have been crushed by those giants in the Misty Mountains that we saw fighting, and like a horde of orcs are beating drums inside my head," Kili replied, quietly. His voice was racked with pain, and he sounded quite ill. Yes, he was awake now, but he was far from being alright. That was plain to see even if you had no knowledge of healing.

Balin nodded gravely in acknowledgement of the prince's answer. He couldn't fault the lad for that - he had been through a lot. Now it was Kili's turn to ask the questions.

"Tell me, Balin, what has become of Fili? And what of my uncle? The maid didn't know anything when she tended me - she didn't even know who I am, until I told her. No one around here seems to know anything or if they do, they won't tell me, and I've not seen Oin." The speech was quite an effort for Kili, and he had to cough a few times to clear his throat as he spoke.

Balin sighed heavily in response. Aye, if he had seen one of the company, or Dain, then perhaps they would have told him the seriousness of the situation. The dwarves perhaps thought it best that the bad news came from one of the company, rather than from a stranger. For a moment, he considered just how much he should tell him - when the dwarrowdam had come to him with the news he'd thought that the worst was over, but being awake didn't mean that Kili was recovered and having seen him, he suspected that it would take a long while yet. Would the truth aid his recovery, or worsen it? In the end, Balin decided that Kili should know the truth. He had always been truthful to the lad, and he should know.

Balin's expression was grave as he answered his questions. "Things don't bode well, laddie. Fili was seriously wounded in the fighting on Ravenhill, just as you were, and your uncle, well, he lies in a serious condition also. Ye owe yer lives to Beorn and Dwalin - they got ye out with the aid of the eagles, the elf princeling and the maid whom healed your leg. Neither of them are out of danger yet."

 

Fantastic to read an update! You can tell Balin is relieved about Kili and there is an upsurge of hope about other survivors.