A/N: It's the sad chapter! Oh, dear! Be prepared to be dissapointed 'cause I suck at sad parts...

Enjoy the rest of the chapter! Sorry it's short...

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PART THIRTY-FOUR ~

Arien urged her feet onward, straining with effort as she struggled to climb the final hill. The battle was already waging a few meters ahead; the hiss and clash of swords as they embraced the other forged weapons wielded by the deadly Uruk-hai rang across the plains in a fierce clamour. The screams and cries of the wounded brought about a sense of dread and foreboding, but there was still a sense of hope clutched in Arien's sinking heart. Her mind was cast with worry for her friends; Thoros and Fili. Both dwarves who meant so much to her, yet were thrashing in a pool of deep danger.

Arien followed Kili's actions and immediately drew her sword, feeling a shiver run down her spine as she governed the ardent spirit of battle. Slicing down the first Uruk-hai she reached, she uttered a grunt of satisfaction. The other dwarves bore expressions of obvious hope, and continued their fighting with a renewed vigor. The tough, leathery skin of the beasts plaguing the plains bore little resistance to the strength behind the blades, wielded by the finest warriors in Erebor.

The plain was an assortment of swinging swords, bashing shields, grotesquely formed beasts and bearded warriors, and of course Arien; the only human and female to be present on the battlefield. She impaled a Uruk-hai and sliced the head off another as she swept through the hordes of bodies, each one locked in combat.

The dwarves were slowly pushing the Uruk-hai back down into the bowels of the Earth, from whence they were born, loosening their numbers relentlessly. Arien kicked her mithril boots forcefully into the skull of a collapsed Uruk-hai, sending it plundering down the slope in befuddlement, thrashing out it's muscular arms to halt it's tumble. To no avail, of course, as a heavily-built dwarf hacked off it's head with a blood-caked battle axe after it unintentionally nipped his exposed ankles.

As Arien cut a path towards a mass of Uruk-hai, she caught a sight that made her heart freeze and the grip on her sword falter. She stood rooted to the ground, her eyes growing wider with each second, as she glimpsed Thoros being struck down by a broad-shouldered Uruk-hai, a few paces away. The sword clattered from his limp hand as his knees buckled underneath him and he collapsed to the ground, grasping at his chest, from which a rusty-looking blade was protruding. But the victorious beast did not stop there; as Thoros gritted his teeth and reached weakly for his blade, an armoured foot descended heavily on his skull, kicking forcefully at his temples. He was thrown forward with the impact, thrust into the blood sodden ground.

Arien's heart stopped in her chest, though her shoulders began to heave. Heeding the fact that Thoros was still breathing, scarcely, she sprinted over to his body, as fast as her armoured limbs would allow her. She instantly thrust her blade into the oblivious beast who had sent her friend to the darkness, taking pleasure in watching his blood pool about him as he sprawled along the floor. She spat in his repulsive face and dashed over to Thoros.

Arien laid one hand on Thoros' blood drenched hair, and the other on his plated shoulder. She could feel the warm wetness of the blood seeping through her tunic. She was in some sort of shock; she felt empty inside. Like a black void had opened up in her chest; sucking her body dry of all hope and happiness, joy and laughter. The world faded into a dull, monotonous pit. A pit in which no light could penetrate darkness. A pit that knew only of sadness, anger, fear, desperation.

She felt something take her shoulder in a tight grip, jerking her back to awareness.

Her lip trembled as she screamed in the Orc's face, thrusting her sword into it's skull. Her shoulder heaved with anger, rage, regret. She collapsed beside Thoros, still wheezing as his breaths became shallower. Her body began shaking with silent sobs as she took his bruised face in her hands. His eyes moved slowly to meet hers, their green light diminishing along with her hope.

"A-arien," he rasped, his voice cracking as he spluttered blood. The crimson droplets coated his cheeks as he feebly reached up a trembling hand and pressed his fingers against her damp face.

"Thoros," she whispered, tears rolling silently down her cheek and splashing onto Thoros' quivering lips. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay..."

He shook his head, a brief movement as he winced in pain, his face contorted in agony. "No... I..."

He took one, last, shuddering gasp before falling motionless. His lips parted, his eyes falling dead. His body fell limp onto Arien's lap.

"No," She whispered, helplessly. "No, no, no!" Her voice rose in pitch and intensity with every mumble, until she was screaming into Thoros' tunic. She held his body to hers, pressing her head into his pale neck. "No, no, please. Thoros, please..." She pleaded, her voice muffled against the thick material. "Don't leave me."