The Last of the Guardians Part 2 - A Hobbit Fan Fiction

Chapter 12 - Anasé Dura

The breeze lifted his honey-coloured hair to tickle her face as she leaned over to feel his breath on her cheek. His breathing was shallow and his chest moved but a little. She touched a finger to his neck, searching for a heart beat, but the one she found was irregular and painfully slow.

"Too faint," Nema muttered, sitting back on her heels. Worry began to take root in her mind. He was dying, and the thought of it broke her heart in two. She had to bite her lip to keep it from trembling. Nema could not say why she cared so much. After all, this was the dwarf who had once tried to kill her and now she was on the verge of weeping over his body. This was the dwarf who had made her feel like the scum of the earth with his unchecked glares and his snide comments, the dwarf who had stolen her Taegra and caused her unbelievable pain.

"Yes," a voice whispered in her head, "and if he had not you would have died. He saved you."

Nema nodded slowly, resting her hand on his. "He gave me my wings. He came back for me when I was Azog's hostage, and returned again when I was trapped in the Elf King's halls." She moved her hand to lift the tendrils of soft hair off his face, then cupped his cheek. "He is loyal to his brother, to his uncle and his quest. He is kind and good, and he is not allowed to die."

"Not allowed?" asked the voice.

"No," Nema replied firmly. "They need him. I need him."

She ought to leave him be. After all, she had seen his fate after their fight with the spiders. It was not her place to interfere. Thorin was her focus, not Fili.

The river rushed past them as Nema struggled with her choice. If she left him to die, she would never forgive herself, and most likely Kili and Thorin would not forgive her either. But if she saved him, Síor would never forgive her, for she would have challenged Fate and perhaps even changed the course of their quest.

"He is not here. He need not know," she told herself.

That thought decided the matter. Before she could change her mind, Nema reached for the fastenings holding Fili's cloak around him and loosened them enough for the warm, brown material to slip off. She grabbed the neck of his under tunic and tore it to bare his torso. For what she was to do, Nema needed to be as close to his heart as she could get.

As soon as his skin was visible, Nema stretched out her right wing and turned her head to look at it, searching. White feather after white feather presented itself to her until she glimpsed a streak of silver. Her hand shot after it, diving into the soft white of her wing. When her fingers brushed the silver feather, Nema knew she had what she was looking for, and pulled before she lost her nerve.

The feather came loose in a burst of hot pain but she paid it no mind. After all, she'd had much worse before. She held the feather up to the light, admiring the way the sun glinted off the quill as though it was enwrought with silver.

Anasé Dura was its proper name, but amongst the Guardians it was more commonly known as the Last Chance. It was not powerful enough to bring the dead back to the world of the living, but it could keep the living from the world of the dead. For this reason, she should only use it if Thorin was dying in her arms. She knew she was a fool to use it now, even more a fool because it was not Thorin she was saving, but what else could be done?

Taking a deep breath, Nema touched the tip of the quill to the skin between Fili's collar bones and traced a line down to his naval. She continued to move the feather back and forth across his torso in impeccably straight lines, arched lines and every line in between until finally she stopped and ran a hand through her hair again. There was no mark on his skin, which relieved her, but she could only hope she had done it right.