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On the cold hard ground lies the body that used to be yours, and you can only watch as delicate snowflakes find their way into your mane. Strands of hair dance in the wind, but you cannot feel it, not anymore. Never again will you be able to enjoy the spring breeze caressing your skin softly, nor the harsh bite of winter.
With a quiet sigh, you stare at the face that once reflected happiness, life. It is now livid, marked by Death. Your eyes are wide open, clouded with the fear that had struck you as your enemy’s blade had dug its way into your chest.
Covering the still fresh wound, the corpse’s clothes are stained with blood. Silently, you watch as it flows, spreading beneath you to form a crimson halo. And when you step forward, the thick liquid remains unmoving, as if you aren’t there.
Further away, the battle is still raging. Warriors jumping at each other’s throats, fighting for their people. Swords crash against shields, pierce through exposed body parts to touch vital organs. Yet, you cannot hear any of it. The dark chanting of war does not reach your ears. Although, it is not invisible and if only you raised your head, you would be able to see. But you cannot bring yourself to look, your eyes fixated on your lifeless body.
Plunged in deafening silence, the quiet steps coming closer to you from behind don’t go unnoticed. The sound of his feet hitting the ground is engraved in your mind, but it is his own body, discarded further down, that gives him away.
When his arm circles your waist, you do not flinch, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. The brush of his soul against yours is intense, more even than the passionate kisses you had exchanged before meeting your Fate.
“We will not wake.” At your words, his grip tightens slightly, bringing you closer to him. It is not a question, for you both know the answer. Yet, he shakes his head.
You wish to cry, but the tears do not come. They stayed on the other side, a privilege granted only to the living.
“Not this time, Âzyungel.” The prince whispers, keeping his voice low as if he did not want anybody else to hear. It is useless because nobody will ever be able to hear either of you again.
“I do not know if I should grieve our death, or celebrate that I won’t have to live without you.” You admit, pulling back from his embrace to face him. Even now, Fíli looks divine. Despite the situation, you smile. Your heart cannot beat anymore, but your love for him has not faded. It is still deep and true, stronger than when you had met.
“Do not say such things.” He scolds, but his eyes mirror yours and you can see that he loves you as much as you do. How unfortunate are you, for your time together might come to an abrupt end. “Let’s get somewhere else. I can only look at your dead body for so long.”
Again, your eyes fall to your lover’s corpse. He, too, has been abandoned, forgotten. You cannot help but wonder if someone will find the bodies, or if they will remain here until time decides to feast on them.
With a nod, you take his hand in yours, entwining your fingers, your souls. Glancing one last time at who you used to be, you let Fíli drag you away.
Once dead, time seems different. It passes so slowly, yet so fast at the same time. You have no idea how long you and Fíli have been wandering. You have no idea why you are still there. Are you condemned to walk the Earth aimlessly until its end?
As you silently question the Gods and their ways, a desperate call breaks the silence. Perhaps this is why you have not left yet.
With each step you take, the shape of your friend becomes clearer, more detailed. He is not alone. There is the lovely red-haired elf that had saved him, back in Laketown, postponing what could not be avoided. On the other side, she holds him tightly as if he might vanish. Tears run down her soft cheeks, mixing up with the blood. Hers, or his, you do not know.
Stuck here, with you, Kíli calls her name. He calls, louder and louder, in vain. She will not hear him, nor will she even know he is by her side. Poor Kíli. Young lovers, beautifully crafted for one another, cursed to never be together. Fate is cruel, merciless, and not even the purest thing such as love would be able to defeat it.
Next to you, Fíli steps forward. Before he can move any further, you grab his wrist.
“Not yet.” You say softly, answering the unspoken question. “Give him time. It is the last time he sees her. The last time he can be with her.”
Humming approvingly, the ghost of your prince backs off, his eyes lingering on his mourning brother.
As Tauriel gently presses her lips to his, you look away. It is privacy you do not wish to invade, tenderness that is not for your eyes to see. Perhaps you are just selfish and do not want to feel their pain during your last moments.
“I cannot help feeling guilty,” Fíli says. You turn your head and his eyes meet yours. Their color is deeper, enchanting. Why must people die to catch a glimpse of true beauty? “If he had survived, and I still died, he would have had been the new Crown Prince.”
“Wouldn’t have it been a blessing?” It wouldn’t have been, you know it. Bearing the weight of being a future King, Fíli was sparing his brother.
“There is no need to keep discussing the matter.” Getting behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your chin on his shoulder. His younger brother falls to his knees, desperately trying to touch her, to make her notice him. “It is the end.”
Three ghosts, waiting to be freed from their burden. Still stuck in this world, forced to bow to the Gods’ will. Three ghosts, eyes fixated on their dying leader. Three ghosts who soon will be four.
The orcs had sworn to end the line of Durin and kept to his promise. One by one, he had slain them. First, it had been your Fíli. You could still feel the excruciating pain of having to watch your lover falling before crashing onto the ground. Thankfully, you had not had to watch his brother die as well. But seeing him so hurt, so vulnerable, had been almost as painful. And finally, he had gotten to Thorin. He had made him suffer the death of his kin before erasing him from the Earth.
Never had you thought the death bed of your King would be the snow-covered ground.
“Children.” The baritone voice coming from behind makes you all stand up. Finally, you are reunited. It is his nephews who go to him first.
He embraces them tightly. His love for them is great, and his face is contorted with guilt for he is the one who put them to Death. You stay back, watching them from afar. How beautiful they look together. They were one another’s strength, each other’s reason to fight.
“Now, do not stay so far. Come.” The King addresses you, opening his arms. Unsure, you step forward and join them. Thorin welcomes you as his family, and if your heart was still able to beat, if you could still feel everything as you did before, it would probably swell with happiness.
Only now do you realize that you start to feel lighter as if you were floating. It is time. The four of you will leave to never return. People will remember your names, tell tales of your courage and how you battled. Children will think of you as heroes, longing to live the same adventures.
A hand slips gently into yours, barely there but reassuring. There is no certainty that you will find each other again, this could be your last time together. Closing your eyes, you think of all the things you will never see again. Of the sunrise and the sea, of the birds building their homes in the privacy of trees. You think of home, of those you were not able to say goodbye to.
Four ghosts, walking to eternal rest together. If they are scared, they do not show it. It is a cycle no one can escape from. One last time, you look back.