ten

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take note that bilbo is thorin in this :)))))))))

farewell my love

Both of the eagles carrying both Anne and Thorin arrived in Dale at the same times, the Elf and the Dwarf fatally wounded. Fili and Kili were riding on Anne's eagle, while Bilbo was riding on Thorin's eagle. They were both brought to the healing tents and unconscious, the Elves trying their hardest to revive the both of them. Yet out of the two of them and the limited amount of Kingsfoil, only one of them could really be saved.

Much to his own dismay, it was Thorin.

His eyes fluttered open and he inhaled sharply. The first thing he felt was pain, and then the sting of his eyes as they adjusted. He groaned and rubbed his temple, blinking repeatedly. He was in a bright yellow tent in a healing bed, his bare chest wrapped and clean. There were a few patches above his eye and on his torso, yet they still hurt when he moved around. He groaned again and sat up with a wince, rubbing his eyes.

The last thing he ever remembered was dying, Bilbo right next to him before he was being lifted into the air. He remembered seeing another eagle soar over his head right before he died, his nephews on that eagle and a small figure in the bird's talons. Then nothing.

What happened?

"You're alive!" chimed Bilbo Baggins as he emerged into the tent. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Thorin grumbled, wincing as he stood and grabbed a shirt. He put it over his head, sighing in relief when he finally got it on. He exhaled deeply, looking around. "Where are my nephews?"

"Alive," Bilbo said. "Anne managed to save them from Bolg."

As soon as he heard her name, Thorin's eyes widened. He started to march out of the tent, but Bilbo rushed in front of him to stop him. "Thorin, I don't think that's a very good idea."

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "Why? What's happened? Is she alright?" He spoke fast, his voice rushed and worried.

"She is, but..." Bilbo sighed and trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

"But what?" Thorin's voice was low, and he tilted his head to the side. "Bilbo, what's wrong with her?"

"She's dying," Bilbo explained softly. "I'm so sorry."

Thorin blinked, chuckling in frustration and shaking his head. "You should know that lying to me won't cut it anymore," he said, brushing past him.

Bilbo sighed and hung his head. "I'm not," he said, and Thorin stopped at the tent entrance. Bibo turned around, as did Thorin. "There was only a limited amount of Kingsfoil left to save the two of you. Anne forced us to use it on you instead of herself." Bilbo sniffed, exhaling shakily. "She chose her own life over yours."

Thorin shook his head and looked to the sky, inhaling in attempt to keep his emotions in check.

He needed to see her... now.

He left the tent, Bilbo chasing after him in attempt to dissuade him from going. "You really should be resting. Thorin? Thor--"

Thorin ignored Bilbo, stepping out of the tent and looking around. There were bodies everywhere, and tents, too. The snow was watered in red and black blood and ash, the Dwarf grimacing when he saw dead bodies of Orcs thrown in corners of the city. He weaved in and out past people, Bilbo right behind him. They stopped at an intersection, looking around and trying to figure out where to go.

"Thorin, look," Bilbo pointed, shifting to the right.

They seemed to be at a slope in the square, where cart tracks were embedded in the snow and there was a destroyed cart next to a dead troll of some sort with a sword--Bard's sword--sticking out of its chest. Thorin gasped quietly when two Dwarves stepped out of the tent, both of them somewhat bandaged up, but he blond had a bandage on his forehead and his right arm was wrapped while brunette having a lot less than him, yet he still had his fair share.

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