The Long Road to Recovery

In a chamber not far away from the healing halls, in a place he had chosen to set up shop close enough to the healing halls so that he could get news quickly of any changes regarding the status of the king and his nephews, Balin sat down wearily at the makeshift table.

The dwarrow felt old, older and wearier than he had when Thrain disappeared in Mirkwood during their ill-fated expedition to the Lonely Mountain years before. He felt tired, and the last few weeks since the end of the Battle of the Five Armies had not been a cause for celebration for him.

It had been touch and go for the king and his nephews and he'd had to deal with the very real possibility that all three would depart for the Halls of the Maker. He had been torn between hoping that his old friend would survive and making preparations for the possibility that he wouldn't. Dain was willing to lead their people if it came down to it, but the thought put ashes in the old dwarf's mouth. After all they had been through, to not see Thorin take his grandfather's throne seemed cruel.

The first thing he had done when Beorn and Dwalin had brought the broken bodies back to the mountain was pen a letter to the king's sister, informing her of the situation. He knew that she would come as swiftly as she could, but as he rolled the parchment up and sent the raven on his way, he felt that the king and her sons would be long entombed by the time she arrived and that she would never see them alive again. A lump came to his throat then, thinking of the losses that dwarrowdam had suffered already and he dreaded adding to that list. While they still breathed, however, there was hope and he had to content himself with that.

He was about to begin penning a missive regarding the placement of guards at the main entrance to the Mountain, (although an uneasy truce now existed between Erebor and the survivors of Lake-Town, none of the dwarves were convinced that trouble had entirely dissipated from that quarter. The renewed kingdom of Erebor was very fragile and would remain so until more of their people arrived and stability came to the men of Lake-Town.) when he heard an hesitant knock on the door to the chamber.

Balin shot to his feet immediately, the security of the Mountain forgotten for now and strode across the floor like a warg was on his tail. If this was good news or ill, he was anxious to know it. He opened the door to find a dishevelled, exhausted looking dwarrowdam standing there. She addressed him with an uncertain note in her voice.

"Are ye Lord Balin? Ah have a message for ye, if ye are."

Balin gave her a reassuring smile.

"Aye, lassie, I am he. What is the message?" From her demeanour, he expected the worst. It didn't register to him at that moment that she was just over awed in having to deal with high ranking members of the king's family.

"It's the king's nephew, the younger one, sir. He's awake!" she answered, breathlessly.

Relief flooded through the old dwarrow at her news. At least some of the worry was lifted from his shoulders, but whether Kili was in a fit state to assume the throne if it was needed was another matter entirely. There was still no news as to the condition of Thorin, or Fili, but it seemed that Kili was alive! At least when Dis finally arrived in Erebor, there would be some good news for her, at least. The news was like a ray of light at dawn after a long night of turmoil and despair, and some of the weariness left his body to be replaced with a new vigour.

"Lead the way, lass! Lead the way!"

The dwarrowdam prattled on as they made their way to the chamber where Kili resided. Balin noticed now that the dwarrowdam was quite nervous in his company and it that it had taken her awhile to find him. There was a lot of confusion in the Halls of Healing as the dwarves went about the business of caring for the injured. Being a people drawn to mining and working with stone, metals and gems, healing was not something that was a common occupation among their folk, and as such there were few skilled healers among them. They were no-where as near as sophisticated as the elves when it came to the healing arts. Some, like their very Oin who were, could be just as inclined to be influenced by superstition and the supernatural as they were by the methods of science. Some elves from Mirkwood had given their assistance in the early days right after the battle, and that meant more dwarves had survived than they otherwise would have done. The wizard, Radagast, whom was more knowledgeable about nature than his peer Gandalf, had been a boon to them and the Men and elves that had been wounded in the battle. The elves were gone now having disappeared with their king back into Mirkwood Forest and Radagast had returned to his home in Rhosgobel.

Of the Men, most of those who were able had returned to Dale and had begun the long work of rebuilding their home. Lake-Town would eventually be rebuilt, but it would take some years to complete it so the Men were now sheltering in the more stable buildings still standing in Dale. There was still the matter of the Desolation that scarred the land, but that was not Balin's priority for now. Now, it was to see to the needs of Thorin's nephew.

When they arrived at Kili's beside, it was to find the young prince was sat up in bed, looking rather pale and in some considerable pain. Balin dismissed the dwarrowdam and it was only when she was gone that Balin realised that he'd not asked her for her name. The lass needed to be rewarded for eagle-eyedness in noticing that the prince was finally awake.

Balin removed a book that some dwarrow had left on a chair beside the prince's bedside before sitting down on it.

"How are ye feeling lad?" Balin asked. Kili looked terrible, but it was courtesy to ask before they got down to business. The lad needed to know how his uncle and brother were doing.

Kili smiled, grimly. "Like I have been crushed by those giants in the Misty Mountains that we saw fighting, and like a horde of orcs are beating drums inside my head," Kili replied, quietly. His voice was racked with pain, and he sounded quite ill. Yes, he was awake now, but he was far from being alright. That was plain to see even if you had no knowledge of healing.

Balin nodded gravely in acknowledgement of the prince's answer. He couldn't fault the lad for that - he had been through a lot. Now it was Kili's turn to ask the questions.

"Tell me, Balin, what has become of Fili? And what of my uncle? The maid didn't know anything when she tended me - she didn't even know who I am, until I told her. No one around here seems to know anything or if they do, they won't tell me, and I've not seen Oin." The speech was quite an effort for Kili, and he had to cough a few times to clear his throat as he spoke.

Balin sighed heavily in response. Aye, if he had seen one of the company, or Dain, then perhaps they would have told him the seriousness of the situation. The dwarves perhaps thought it best that the bad news came from one of the company, rather than from a stranger. For a moment, he considered just how much he should tell him - when the dwarrowdam had come to him with the news he'd thought that the worst was over, but being awake didn't mean that Kili was recovered and having seen him, he suspected that it would take a long while yet. Would the truth aid his recovery, or worsen it? In the end, Balin decided that Kili should know the truth. He had always been truthful to the lad, and he should know.

Balin's expression was grave as he answered his questions. "Things don't bode well, laddie. Fili was seriously wounded in the fighting on Ravenhill, just as you were, and your uncle, well, he lies in a serious condition also. Ye owe yer lives to Beorn and Dwalin - they got ye out with the aid of the eagles, the elf princeling and the maid whom healed your leg. Neither of them are out of danger yet."