The Sons of Durin

A Hope of Restoration

Kíli searched all over Ravenhill for the Elvenking, and all around the Lonely Mountain. He searched the valley, where the dead lay piled in heaps on the battlefield: the scene was reminiscent of the stories he had heard of the Battle of Moria, and though Kíli had always thought himself brave, it made him sick to look upon the sight. So much destruction, so many lives lost! The heavy scent of blood was on the air, so thick the young Dwarf could almost taste it, and the ground was littered with corpses of friend and foe alike: Men, Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Wargs, and Goblins, all tossed carelessly together and trodden underfoot.

Tears stung Kíli's eyes, and a lump came into his throat; but he tried not to look at the battle aftermath that lay about him. That is, he at least tried to not look yet, for at the present time he was on a mission which he could not afford to interrupt. He knew that he must find the Elvenking, and get back the runestone that Thranduil had apparently kept for himself, so that he might use its magical healing abilities to bring his uncle back to life. And his brother, too, if he was indeed dead as Dwalin had reported. For his part, though, Kíli still refused to believe that Fíli really was dead: and the destruction he saw all around him only made him cling more resolutely to this denial.

"It is too horrible to believe... and I won't believe it, not until I've got some proof. And even then, I won't have to accept it-not if I get that stone," he muttered stubbornly to himself, as he picked his way through the battlefield, stumbling over bodies and discarded weapons.

It was about this time that he heard a call behind him: "Kíli? Where are you going?"

The voice was Tauriel's, but Kíli did not stop and wait for her; his mission was of greatest importance, and he knew that if she really wanted to speak with him, her legs were swift enough to overtake him. "As I said, I'm lookin' for that elf-king!" he called back over his shoulder.

Tauriel sprang lightly up next to him, and then was forced to shorten her steps, tailoring her long strides to his shorter ones so that she did not pass him by. About this time, Kíli realized that there were others also following behind him: probably Balin and Dwalin. They had been joined by someone else, for it was three dwarf-voices that Kíli heard in his wake. He could not make out to whom the third one belonged, though he guessed it might be Bofur or Bifur.

"Hold up, lad!" called Dwalin, as he broke into a run, joining Kíli and Tauriel within a few moments. "Where do ye think ye might be goin'?"

Balin also managed to reach Kíli, though he was a little out of breath as he reached the younger Dwarf's side."You're our king now, Kíli. You cannot just go running off! It isn't save; there still may be a few enemies straggling about, and now that they know they've lost they'll be more vengeful than ever, an' more crafty."

"He is right," said Tauriel. "The Orc-armies are driven away, but it may be that they have not all gone yet. Some may yet linger, though futile it may be."

"I don't fear any Orc stragglers," Kíli said shortly.

"I still don't quite understand what is going on," commented Bofur, who had finally caught up with the other four. "We thought you were dead, Kíli. You look alive enough to me!"

"There isn't time to explain it all now!" exclaimed Kíli, becoming more frustrated by the second. "Only, I've got to get that runestone. The one Mother gave me."

"By the beard of Durin!" snorted Dwalin in disgust. "All this is about a silly runestone? Ye dropped a trinket during the heat of the battle, and now will not rest until ye've examined every inch of the battlefield searchin' for it?"