Hello friends! Here am I with a new fanfic. But at this time, this is not one o'mine. This
fanfiction called The Last One Alive was written by the user kilidoescartwheels (also known as Toni Bourlon) in The One Ring Forum, she also posted it in her blog: original link
The Last One Alive
If fate had a character, it would be cruelty. That was all Kili, son of Dis, could think as he watched the stone carvers working on tombs for his uncle and brother. Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor for a short time, had fallen twice within the week. Once to dragon sickness, which he overcame, and the second time to Azog the Defiler, although not before taking the life of the beast who mortally wounded him. The same Orc also slew Fili, older brother to Kili and rightful heir to the throne. Now all the dwarves were looking to him, as well as Bard of Esgaroth and Thranduil of Murkwood. And why would they look to him, the younger, inexperienced brother, except for the fact that he cheated death. There could be no other reason, since he was never meant to be King Under the Mountain.
And he did cheat death, receiving a wound from Bolg that would have, perhaps should have been fatal. He could barely remember what happened. Tauriel was there, he remembered that much. He also remembered being pinned by Bolg, who raised his spear to strike. Tauriel jumped on the Orc’s back trying to stop him, but Bolg tossed her aside like a rag doll before driving the tip of his weapon in the center of Kili’s chest. By some miracle the strike just missed his lungs. Still, the wound was severe, and the pain was intense. He fell rapidly in and out of consciousness, but managed to see Tauriel rise and throw herself at Bolg, spin around and push off the side of the cliff, sending them both tumbling over the edge. And what became of her? Not knowing her fate was worse than the pain he felt. He had crawled over to the edge, looked down on her broken body, and watched as Bolg stalked towards her, but also the blonde elf – Legolas? He was racing to her aid. After that he could remember nothing.
“My Lord?” Balin cleared his throat. “Kili?”
Kili turned toward Balin. “I’m sorry, I was distracted.”
“That’s perfectly understandable.” Balin stood next to his brother Dwalin, who had found the young dwarf on the cliff’s edge. Dwalin was following Thorin’s last order to get Kili to safety. He packed Kili’s wounds with snow to slow the blood loss, and then carried the lad to Oin for surgery. Dwalin was called Hero for saving Kili’s life, but he couldn’t forgive himself for abandoning Thorin. He stood silently next to his brother, looking as dejected as Kili felt.
“Dwalin,” Kili said, “I – I am glad to see you.” Kili had spent the last four days in bed recovering from his injury. Only now was Oin allowing him to get up, cautioning him to walk slowly and not move his shoulders. His chest was bound so tightly that he could barely breathe, and his arms were also bound just above the elbow, restricting his movements. All he could do was raise his hands and grasp the warrior’s forearms. Dwalin grasped his forearms just as fiercely, struggling not to let a tear fall down his face.
Balin smiled, giving his new Lord a few minutes before getting back to business. “We’ve sent Ravens to the Blue Mountains.” Kili released his grip reluctantly, nodding silently as the meaning sank in. His mother will receive news of her brother and older son’s deaths. Kili could not bear to write the words, so Balin had done it for him. What a coward I am, he said to himself. But there was no time for self-recrimination, as Balin had more to report. “Bard and Thranduil are waiting outside.”
Kili sighed. Yes, debts had to be settled, and as the surviving heir to the throne it was his duty to make settlement. “Did you find the jewels?”
“Yes, we have them. And the gold you requested for Bard, it’s all ready.” Kili followed Balin to another room, where the surviving members of the Company waited. As he walked in they all knelt, including the Hobbit. Even Balin turned and dropped to one knee.
“My friends, please!” Kili exclaimed, “Stand up. You need not kneel before me. I – I don’t think I can do this without you all. I will need your wisdom, and your strength, and especially your friendship. You will always be dear to me.” They stood back up, smiling, some crying a little. Kili could do no more than shake their hands, but he shook all of them. Finally he said, “Well, it seems we have some business to take care of.”
A few minutes later, eleven dwarves and a hobbit walked outside Erebor across a makeshift bridge, carrying ten bags of gold and a box full of diamonds. Thranduil stood next to Bard on the other side – Kili would speak to him first. He stood before the Elven King, hoping he looked at least somewhat regal. “You came to our aid,” he said, “therefore I give you these diamonds, which we owe you and which you deserve.” Thranduil smiled slightly. An awkward and somewhat incorrect speech, but still he would accept it.
Bilbo stepped forward and opened the box. The diamonds gleamed like fire in the sunlight. Thranduil ran a finger through the loose gems, before pulling out the necklace he had coveted for so long.
“My Lord,” Kili said quietly, “what became of Tauriel? Did she survive?”
Thranduil looked down forlornly. “I did all that I could, but it wasn’t enough. Regretfully, she is one of the fallen.”
Kili felt sick. His first impulse was to punch Thranduil, to curse the Elven King for his failure to save Tauriel. But he also felt almost overwhelming sorrow, and he realized that if he gave away any emotion it would come with tears. He took several deep breaths and clenched his fists before speaking. “I – I would like to see, see – do you bury your dead?”
“Yes,” Thranduil responded, understanding Kili’s distress. “When you have buried your own, you may come if you wish.” He looked off in the distance. “My son has left me. He said he cannot come back. Legolas shares your grief, as do I.” Thranduil put the necklace back in the box before taking it from Bilbo. Looking down at the diamonds he said, “I thank you for these, though at this time they no longer seem so important.” He closed the box and handed it to one of his Elven Guards. Turning back to Kili he added, “She had this token. I thought you might want it back.”
Kili held out his hand for the token, mumbling “Thank you” as he took it.
“I offer a word of advice for the new King Under the Mountain. Vanity can destroy a Kingdom just as surely as greed.” Thranduil saluted Kili with his hand over his heart, turned, and walked away.
Kili wanted to run away before the tears came, but there was still Bard to settle with. The newly-chosen Master of the survivors of Esgaroth stood waiting patiently. He was still wearing his beaten brown coat, but stood with a bearing of regal authority. Kili approached him with a more relaxed manner. “Your children,” he asked, “are they well?”
“Yes, they are. Thank you for asking.”
Kili sighed with relief. “You are a very lucky man.”
“This I know,” Bard replied. “And I am sorry for your loss, but I hope that our relations will go better.”
“They will.” Kili glanced back at the other dwarves, who stepped forward with their large bags of gold. They were stacked in front of the Bargeman, except for the last sack, which was opened to reveal its contents. “Promises were made, and they will be honored. It was never our intention for the dragon to leave the mountain. These dwarves, and Bilbo” he added, “tried to trap Smaug and kill him, but he escaped, and for that I am truly sorry.” Bard nodded, but couldn’t help marveling at the gold coins – more than he’d ever seen in his lifetime. Kili continued, “We must do a thorough accounting of the treasure, and both Dain and these loyal Dwarves deserve a share as well. But consider this a downpayment of our debt to you.”
“Downpayment?”
“We owe you a great deal. And I personally owe you as well, for helping me when I was…” Kili struggled with the word, “dying.” He paused to collect himself before continuing. “Master Bard, you must know that my uncle fell sick. He was not in his right mind when he spoke to you at the gate. But fortunately, he did recover from his sickness. And I believe that, had he survived, he would have settled with you fairly. I intend to do the same.”
“I am glad of it.” Bard smiled warmly. “This downpayment should see us through the winter. We both need time to bury our dead and rebuild our homes. And now, let me keep my word.” He pulled the Arkenstone from his pocket and held it out for Kili. The new King hesitated for a moment, then motioned for Balin to take the Arkenstone. “Well, it’s settled,” Bard acknowledged. “I will wait for this accounting until spring, agreed?”
“Yes, agreed.” Kili stepped back, relieved that his first official duty as King Under the Mountain was over. “Until then, Master Bard.” He turned and walked away as quickly as possible.
Once inside the safety of Erebor he ran away from his confused companions, up a flight of stairs to the highest peak he could find. The other dwarves called out and started to follow him, until Bilbo cut them off. “This is a very difficult time for him, for us all in fact. I think he just needs to be alone for a time. He’ll be back when he’s – ready.”
Kili didn’t hear Bilbo’s words. All he could hear was the echoing of his own footsteps in the empty hall. He finally collapsed against a window, unable to hold his grief in any longer. “Tauriel,” he sobbed, “why? Why did it have to be you – why couldn’t it have been me instead?”
A voice asked, “Do you think she would want to live with that grief?”
Kili looked around, nearly in a panic. “Who said that? Show yourself!” The grey pilgrim stepped out of the shadow. “Gandalf! How did you get in here?”
Galdalf shrugged. “Well, I am a wizard, you know.”
Kili struggled for breath. “I didn’t know this place had windows. I have never been here before.”
“No, you haven’t. And you have much to learn before you can truly rule your people, starting with the vast halls of Erebor.”
“I am not in the mood for a lesson right now.”
“No, I don’t suppose you are. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Thorin, and Fili. I knew this would be dangerous, but I had hoped we would all survive.”
“Thorin should be on the throne,” Kili replied, “or my brother – anyone but me.” He stood and paced the floor. “I am not ready for this! I am….”
“You are chosen. Sometimes fate chooses the path we must walk, and this path is now yours.”
“Well I don’t want it,” he complained. “I would leave this place, as Thranduil’s son left, and as you and Bilbo will surely do.”
“And yet you remain,” Gandalf said gently. “You know in your heart that you must, just as I must see Bilbo safely back to the Shire. He is as grief-stricken over Thorin as you, perhaps moreso, as his attempt to stop the fighting was for naugt.”
“I wish to speak with him about that before he goes. He has been avoiding me.” Kili questioned the wizard. “Does he fear me?”
“Oh, no,” Gandalf replied less than honestly.
“Do you fear me?” Kili searched Gandalf’s eyes for the truth. “You do, don’t you?” Gandalf began to deny this, but Kili stopped him. “I think you do, and in truth, I fear for myself. What if I become sick, like my uncle did?”
Gandalf felt some relief that Kili was even asking the question. “When you look at the gold, what do you see?”
Kili thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I see gold – more treasure than I thought could exist.”
“And what do you feel when you touch it?”
Kili uttered a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “I have not touched it.”
Gandalf nodded. “Well then, let us find out.” When Kili balked Gandalf added, “Do not fear, I will be right beside you.”
They walked down the stairs, past the entrance and down to the mid-level that was filled with so much gold as defied imagination. Gloin was working with several dwarves, attempting to separate coin from jewels and other treasures. They stopped and stood at attention when he came up. “We are making some wee progress,” Gloin reported, “but this task will take weeks.”
“Take all the time you need,” Kili said before walking past with Gandalf. He stood nervously before an unsorted pile, took a deep breath and scooped up a handful of gold coins. He felt their weight noticed and how cold they were before letting them spill through his fingers. Turning to Gandalf he said, “Nothing. I feel nothing for this gold.” He then reached inside his shirt for the token, holding it carefully. “This means more to me, far more.”
Gandalf sighed in relief. “Well, that’s good. Very good. I think you have nothing to fear.” He bent down to examine the token. “Keep that with you always. You will be a very fine King, and I believe you will make your family proud!” Kili clutched the token tightly, then slipped it back inside his shirt, over his heart.
One week later both a funeral and coronation were held inside Erebor. The funeral was attended by a few thousand dwarves from the Iron Hills, a few hundred new citizens of Dale, a wizard and a Hobbit. Eleven dwarves from the Blue Mountains carried the bodies of Fili, son of Dis, and Thorin, son of Thrain, down to the crypt, lowering them carefully into their stone tombs. Both wore death masks of such careful detail that, to all observers they appeared to be merely sleeping. Fili was laid to rest in a new suit of dwarven chainmail, a royal blue robe wrapped around his shoulders and a silver belt tied at the waist. Thorin was resplendent in the royal blue robe of his grandfather, the gold crown atop his head. Kili had insisted on this, as Thorin had been King Under the Mountain, even if only for a few days. But in truth, Kili would never wear them himself, for they reminded him too much of his uncle’s dragon-sickness.
He first approached his brother, placing Fili’s two swords in each hand, and laying the throwing axes at his feet. He then took one last look at his brother, breaking down into quiet sobs. “Fili,” he whispered, “I always thought you’d be with me forever. I miss you so much.” Ten other dwarves cried silently with him. After a few minutes he regained his composure before stepping over to his uncle. He placed Orcrist across Thorin’s chest. “Thorin, my uncle, my King. You accomplished that which you set out to do, but at a great cost. You taught me so much. I pray that I can live up to your legacy. Farewell, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.” He then stood with the rest of his Company – for they were His Company now – while the long procession began, led by the Hobbit. After each person in attendance walked past the tombs, the heavy stone lids were pushed into place. Kili then led the procession out.
The funeral took all morning, the coronation would take all afternoon. The throne had been repaired, although the Arkenstone would not be housed in it. Kili would have buried it with Thorin, but he had to keep it as a symbol of his right to rule. “My right,” he scoffed quietly – what right did he really have? He wondered if he could even go through with this.
Fortunately Balin had arranged for the entire ceremony, and was explaining to him what would happen. “You will walk up to the throne, and then turn to face the dwarves. I will put the Arkenstone in your hands and give a speech asserting your kinship to Thorin, and your succession to the Throne. You will then kneel and make the pledge, receive your crown, and then stand and be presented as King Under the Mountain.” Patting Kili’s arm he added, “Don’t worry, lad, it will all be over with soon enough. And we will all be there by your side, where we will always be.”
“Thank you,” Kili said gratefully. He wore a new suit of clothing and polished gold chainmail for the event. Hoping he looked kingly enough, he said “Let us begin.”
Bifur, Bofur and Bombur took their place in a balcony and blew horns announcing the coronation. All in attendance stood as Dori, Nori and Ori came in first, carrying an exquisite banner. They were followed by Oin and Gloin, then Balin and Dwalin, and finally Kili. All wore the same gold chainmail over black clothing. Balin carried the Arkenstone, while Dwalin carried the new robe and crown. After they climbed the steps to the new throne, Ori, Dori and Nori moved to the left, while Oin, Gloin, Balin and Dwalin moved to Kili’s right. Balin held the Arkestone over his head. “Behold, the heirloom of the House of Durin, passed from King Thror to Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, and King Under the Mountain. By right of succession it now passes to Kili, son of Dis, sister to Thorin Oakenshield and daughter of Thrain. As a son of Durin and heir to the throne, I present this to you.” Kili extended both hands, shaking a bit, and took the stone from Balin. Balin motioned for Kili to kneel. “As King, you are charged with the welfare of your people, and defense of this mountain home, to rule with justice and fairness, never forsaking or dishonoring the throne. Do you accept this charge?”
Kili looked up at his friend, the wisest dwarf he knew. Balin smiled and nodded, reassuring his young King. “I do. As King, I will guard the welfare of my people, defend this mountain home, rule with justice and fairness, never forsaking or dishonoring the throne.” Balin took the new crown from his brother – made of gold, it was similar in design to Thorin’s, but the points were shorter and wider – and placed it on the young Dwarf’s head. He motioned for Kili to stand. Dwalin then draped the robe around Kili’s shoulders – a deep, royal blue trimmed in silver, with silver fox fur adorning the collar. He turned to face the audience while Balin declared, “Our new King, Kili, heir of Thorin Oakenshield! Here we pledge our loyalty to thee!” All the dwarves in the procession knelt, and every dwarf in the audience did the same. Bilbo and Gandalf were in a seat of honor in another balcony, but they also knelt in honor of their friend. Kili saw them, smiled and nodded in favor of their gesture. After a minute he motioned for all to rise. At that point Dwalin stepped forward. “All hail Kili, Son of Durin, King Under the Mountain — long may he reign!” All the dwarves cheered, stamped and rattled their weapons. The commotion could be heard all the way to the highest points of Dale, across the river to Ravenhill, and nearly all the way to Murkwood. It continued for several minutes, even drowning out the horns no matter how hard Bombur blew into his! Finally the procession lined up and walked out of the hall, which slowed some of the dwarven cheering as the assembly began to disperse. Bilbo and Gandalf had to clap their hands over their ears as they hurried out, wanting to catch up with Kili and the Company before they started the long journey home.
“Do not be afraid,” Gandalf reassured the Hobbit, “he wants to see you, and he bears you no ill will.”
They found Kili waiting for them outside, still wearing the robe and crown. He handed the Arkenstone to Balin. “Find a safe place for this,” he said, “and keep it under lock and key.”
Balin nodded. “I know just the place for it.” He turned and walked away, smiling at Bilbo before he left.
“Bilbo, it is good to see you again.” Kili motioned for Bilbo to come closer. “You are looking well.”
“Thank you,” he replied, “and you are looking – very regal.”
Kili chuckled a bit. “I truly hope so. I must get used to this crown, it feels so heavy. My friend, Balin tells me you have refused to take any of the treasure.”
“Well, after what I did I didn’t think I deserved it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Bilbo, I understand why you did what you did.”
“I stole from you. I took your family heirloom and gave it to Bard.”
“Yes you did, and if I hadn’t heard you say so I would never have believed it.” Kili looked away, grimacing. “You said it yourself, at that moment he trusted you more than his own kin. And you were right, he was changed. I did not like what he had become.” He turned back sharply. “But I said nothing. None of us would have challenged him the way you did. We would have followed him into death and disgrace. I think what you said to him helped bring him back. If he had lived, I know he would have forgiven you, as I forgive you now. So please, take some of the treasure. I cannot give you all that was promised originally, but you will still leave a wealthy hobbit.”
“How could I possibly carry it all?” Bilbo laughed. “It’s inconceivable. All I really need is a good pony.”
“Then a pony you shall have,” Kili declared, “and a fine saddle, with food and some traveling money. I can’t have my hobbit going hungry, now can I? You must also keep the Mithreal shirt. Thorin would have wanted you to have it, I am sure of it. Wear it on your way home, it will keep you safe.” He sighed. “I will miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too. But I will always remember you, all of you. Let me show you something.” Bilbo pulled the acorn from his pocket. “I picked this up in Beorn’s garden, and I’ll plant it in my own. When I showed this to Thorin, he called it a poor prize, but, well….”
“I understand.” Kili pulled the runestone from his shirt and showed it to Bilbo. “My mother gave this to me – it means more to me than the Arkenstone ever could.”
“I can understand that,” Bilbo nodded. “That is the true heirloom of your family.”
“That is kind of you to say.” Kili slipped the runestone back into his shirt. “I’d like to think Thorin would agree. Bilbo, I know you want to go back to your home, but you are welcome to stay as long as you would like.”
“Thank you, but I think I’ve been away from home far too long.” Bilbo paused for a moment. “Kili, I want to tell you something. Thorin spoke to me before he died. He told me he wanted to part in friendship. He asked ME for forgiveness – which of course I’d already given. He said if more people valued home over gold, the world would be a merrier place.”
“Value home over gold,” Kili repeated. “One final lesson from Thorin.” Kili looked at Erebor as Gandalf came out guiding a saddled pony. “It’s going to take me a year just to learn this place.”
“Well then, you best get started.” Bilbo smiled warmly at the new King. Kili pulled the Hobbit into a strong embrace and held him for nearly a minute. When he released his grip, Bilbo couldn’t help but exclaim, “You are so much like him.”
Kili smiled. “I hope so. Farewell, Master Burglar.”
“Farewell, King Under the Mountain.” Bilbo bowed slightly, smiled again, then mounted the pony and rode away.
Kili stood watching until the Hobbit and the Wizard disappeared around the bend. While he stood there, Balin and Dwalin came out to him. “We received a message from your mother,” Balin reported. “She is leaving Erid Luin immediately. She is most anxious to see you again.”
“I am most anxious to see her as well.” Kili thought for a moment. “Does she say how she plans to travel?”
Balin reported, “She will travel east to Bree, then south on the Greenway to Dunland, through the Gap of Rohan to the Anduin. It will be a long journey, but that is the safest route.”
Kili nodded in agreement. “Dwalin, can you gather a few guards and meet her in Dunland?”
“Aye, I’ll leave immediately. We will bring your mother home, safe and sound,” he added as he bowed, then he quickly turned and walked away.
“Home,” Kili repeated. He touched the runestone, still over his heart. “Balin, show me around my new home.”
“My pleasure,” Balin said as he led the way. Kili squared his shoulders and followed Balin back inside Erebor.
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