The wind moaned as it rose and fell on the silent battlefield. Thorin stood motionless, staring at the bodies that littered the rock, the blood that had already congealed. His kin. They were all dead. He would not see or talk to them again.

He swallowed, blinking as for a second he was staring at the main gate of Erebor, the bodies of his soldiers scattered throughout the hallway. Pain and grief speared his heart, his very soul. He knew he would never forget this. Any of it. Knew it would haunt him for as long as he lived. He wished there was a way to honour them, the dwarves who had given their lives for this useless battle. Wished there was a way to honour his beloved dead, the mother and grandfather and perhaps father that he had lost.

"Thorin."

His breath pushed from his body as he heard that voice, gentle and understanding and full of pity and her own grief. As he knew that when he turned he would see his queen, the one person he could not live without, who would always be there for him.

"Arien," he murmured, his voice slightly choked as he faced her, scanning her body for injury. There were scratches and grazes all over her, but apart from that... nothing.

She was alive. Alive. She was safe.

He had not lost her.

Relief threatened to buckle his knees. She was alive.

She reached for him, burying her head in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, breathing her in.

"Are you all right?" she murmured.

On a physical level –– yes, he was fine. But he was grief-stricken, and filled with anger at his grandfather for letting this happen. But he rested his chin on her head and replied

"I'm fine. What about you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm..." She pushed away from him, looking up, searching his face. "Thorin, I... Someone came to me, toward the end of the battle. He warned me not to enter Moria. That Durin's Bane still dwells within its walls. He said if we entered those mines, we would be destroyed."

Thorin stared at her in slight shock. "Who? Who was he, Arien?"

"I don't know," she replied. "But... Thorin, I think he's right. If Durin's Bane really is still there, then we will be destroyed."

She was right, Thorin thought. But if Durin's Bane was not there...

He took a deep breath.

"I will go," he told her. "I will check myself."

"You can't do that," she objected. "You could be killed. I can't lose you now."

He smiled gently. "I love you, Arien," he murmured.

"Thorin," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on tip-toe to kiss him. He closed his eyes as he put his arms around her, pulling her against him, deepening the kiss.

After what seemed like a long time, she drew back, running her fingers over his face. For a second he let himself savour her touch, the knowledge that she was alive. That she was his. Would always be.

She brushed her thumb over his cheek and smiled. His eyes drifted shut.

"I should..." He gritted his teeth as her fingers slid into his hair. "I should go check if there is... anything there."

She nodded, but brushed a kiss to his lips.

"Please be careful," she murmured.

He smiled, squeezing her hand. "I will, Arien. I'm not going to die."

"I love you," she whispered. "Come back to me."

"I will," Thorin promised.

***

Arien stood by the gates seconds after Thorin had entered Moria, already afraid for his life. She swallowed, unable to stop thinking about him, his eyes, his face, his lips... She could not lose him now, not when she had only just found him again. When she had only just reassured herself that he was alive.

She looked up suddenly as she caught a red glow from within the gates, heard a cry of fear.

"No," she whispered, taking a step toward the entrance.

Only to find Thorin there, gripping her in his arms and pulling her away from the mouth. She looked up at him to find his face ashen-grey, his eyes haunted. He panted, arms still around her.

"What is it," she asked, slipping her own arms around him. "What did you see?"

He swallowed. "A beast of shadow and flame. You were right, Arien. Whoever warned you was right. We cannot enter Moria whilst that creature lives."

"Could we kill it?"

He shook his head. "Swords would be of no use against it. It would destroy us all. We must tend to our dead, and make our way back to Ered Luin."

He sounded defeated, like a great weight of responsibility had been shoved onto his shoulders. Suddenly she realised that it had. With the death of his grandfather and his father, Thorin was now king. He had all the responsibility of rebuilding his people, of giving them hope and a reason to live. It was his duty now to care for them, protect them, guide them, whatever the cost to himself. She knew he would, but also knew that he would sacrifice so much, would give up his own happiness for theirs, would die for them if he had to. She stared up at him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"What are you sorry for?"

"For the responsibility you have, for the loss you have suffered, for... everything. I want to help you, Thorin. I can't watch you suffer."

He looked away from her. "I don't want you to suffer for me."

"Thorin, I suffer when you do. It hurts me when you are hurt. Please, let me help you. At least let me be there for you, as you have always been there for me."

"It is my greatest comfort to know that you are there, Arien. Without you, I could not do this. Any of it. I need you by my side."

"I am," she murmured. "I always will be."

He drew her to him, leaning down to kiss her.

"I am glad of it," he murmured onto her lips.

Thorin drew back, staring at the battlefield, the land that ran with blood and death. His throat bobbed as he gripped her hand and began to pick his way through the bodies. Arien tried not to look at them, not wanting to find a once well-known face unrecognisable from blood and wounds. They neared two dwarves that knelt beside the body of another, their voices raised in the silent stillness that was the absence of cries of pain and clashes of steel.

"Thrain is gone," one said. Arien felt Thorin tense beside her, felt him stop and half-turn towards them.

"They are saying Thrain is dead, along with Thror."

Thorin let go of her hand and stepped towards the dwarves.

"How do you know this?" he demanded. "Did you see him killed?"

Arien laid a hand on his arm in silent support, because she knew he was pumped up from the battle and filled with fear for his father, and knew he needed someone there.

"I saw him go down, Prince, although I suppose you're king now," said the first dwarf.

Thorin ignored the remark about kingship and pressed

"But did you see him killed? Did you see him die?"

"I told you, I saw him knocked to the ground by the Pale Orc."

Thorin lunged forward and grabbed the dwarf's jacket.

"Did you see him die?" he growled, his face mere inches from the soldier's. "Did he stop breathing?"

"Thorin," Arien murmured. He ignored her.

"No, I... I didn't," the dwarf got out.

Thorin stepped back, releasing him.

"Then how can you be sure he is dead?" he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Thorin," Arien said gently. "He is dead. He has to be." She gripped his arm. "Where else could he be?"

Thorin shook her off. "He could be very badly wounded," he snarled. "He could be captured."

She swallowed, looking at him, the grief on his face and in his eyes. "Even so," she said quietly. "How can you prove he is not dead? You can't search every body for his."

Thorin turned to look at her. "Why can't I? It is the only thing I can do."

Arien could only stare at him.

***

The young dwarf prince strode between the bodies, searching each one, each face for his father. The oaken-shield that had saved his life was in one hand, his sword in the other. The wind blew back his dark hair, the fabric of his clothes flapping in it. He did not pause; he did not rest.

The dwarves watched him with awe, respect. Loyalty.

Their king and leader, their beacon. He had fought beside them, protected them, loved them. Would do again.

And as they watched him search in vain for his father, they realised that there, on that battlefield, bleeding as they were, grieving and hurting as they were... There was their King.