Chapter Twenty-Five – …Where I Cannot Follow

Title: Dragon Heart
Pairing: Fili/Bella
Summary: Not all dragons were bad, not all were simply just dragons either and those who held a dragon’s heart was a blessed indeed.

BTW I should mention Italics are the Elves speaking in their native tongue Sindarin.

Bold Italics is when they are speaking in Khuzdul. All words translated at the bottom.

}}…{{ anything starting with that is Dovahzul – Dragon Language or regular bold in usual sentences.

))…(( anything between them is the black speech.
]]…[[ Will be hobbitish or green speech, language of hobbits.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the plot! No matter how much I wish it to be so.

Author Note: *angry mutters*

Third POV

The sky was clear and Fíli found himself standing in a field of gold, not metals or gems but of near chest height grass or was it wheat? His eyes roamed over the unfamiliar flatlands and hills seeing nothing until his eyes locked onto a long figure facing towards the setting sun.


His heart raced, he knew that figure, he would know his wife anywhere! A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed off into a run, ignoring the fact that he had no weapons and in a simple tunic and pants, he didn’t even care he was barefoot.

“Isa. Ghivashel!” He called before coming to a complete stop a few steps away from his wife, his heart thundering and then nearly coming to a stop as she turned to face him.

She was dressed in clothing that he had never seen before, very form fitting but her hair was loose and shined as the sun haloed her… He was so delighted at seeing her Fíli did not notice she wore no braid and the gold was no longer in her hair. The beauty took his breath away and he could never understand what she ever saw in him, he was ordinary for a dwarf, below that and odd because of his colouring and station.

Do not be ashamed of your father-colour, you should take pride in the fact. It is a gift, treasure it as such… The words she spoke what felt so long ago rung in his mind, the way her eyes darkened at what he told her. The words stuck to him on their journey when he noticed looks in Bree and in Rivendell.

A sudden sense of wrong began to lodge in his throat as he finally, finally registered that she did not move or greet him and she did not wear the smile always for him but a sense of agony Fíli had never seen on her face before. A sob tore from his wife’s throat and he moved forward to comfort her, only to watch in horror as his hand went through her.

No, no, no, no! He screamed mentally his chest heaving trying to get air. He stumbled away as he watched his wife cry, the tears burning into the ground.

“I don’t want to be here anymore, I want to go home.” She choked out collapsing to her knees. “I just want to go home, there’s no love on this world. I want to go home; I want to go home, I WANT TO GO HOME!”

Thorin jerked awake as a scream tore through the tent, his eyes going to Fíli in panic. The King got to his feet in an instant, rushing to his nephew’s side just as another scream more painful than the last filled the night air and calling for the others.

“Fíli, Fíli WAKE UP!” Thorin yelled, jerking back as his nephew struck out. Nearly every night he had a nightmare and after a few bruised cheeks or a broken nose for Dwalin did they learn that they need to duck back fast. At least it wasn’t a dagger, they made sure to take them before he went to sleep.

“Thorin?” Fíli choked out, blinking away the tears as reality slammed back into him. “I was dreaming over her again, she was still alive.”

“Oh Mim razdith, I wish it were so. I too dream of her and Kíli as well, you know it is the hearts that do it.” Thorin explained, shooting the others in the tent a look for them to leave as he pulled Fíli into his arms.

Kíli went to join his brother and uncle, practically throwing himself over his brother in comfort. No one knew how with Isa’s death and everything after it that he held strong. Only at night when Fíli slept did he show how broke he was inside. Kíli cast his uncle a look over his brother’s head and raised his hand.

Balin has sent a raven for Amad.’ He signed watching as Thorin’s eyes raised and then closed.

“Go back to sleep Mim razdith, we are here now, go to sleep.” Thorin whispered to Fíli like he did when Fíli was but a dwarfling and got comfortable the best he could without disturbing the shroud behind him and prepared for another long night.


It had been a month when the first signs of something had stirred Fíli from his Wife’s side. There were of course the sounds of the camps and the sounds of the preparations of burying and burning the dead still. They had started with Lake Town and the fields before making their way to Dale and now finally Erebor, there was more dead in Erebor than what anyone had imagined and it was then that Thranduil had broken from his stoic mask as he saw just how many women and children died in the dragons original attack.

But that never bothered Fíli, he did not help nor was he expected to when his One was the Hero and… no, he didn’t want to think about what everyone was calling her he just couldn’t face it. It hurt him every day to hear the whispers of what they said and wants to see her when they didn’t even know her.

A few had decided at one point to curse and praise that she had died for the fact she was a Dragon, even going so far as to try and destroy her shroud, that was till one of them found himself with Fíli’s dagger in his side. The other two had suffered a shaving and banishment, which was taken out by the company and the King, Dain proceeding over it with his support for his kin. It was also decreed that Isa was and has always been named Dwarrow-Friend, one that Ori could back up as they had found a book written by Durin himself in the Library.

No one had tried to attack Isabella again but the praise went up when they found out how old she was and who she was exactly, the house of Durin was blessed to receive such a blessing of her in their line. That always angered Fíli, for if it wasn’t because of him or this accursed war she would be alive and he would be dead.

“What is going on?” He asked Kíli as he stepped out of the tent that was now situated in the middle of the camp to keep Kisenth protection.

“Elves were spotted, not the Mirkwood ones. Thorin has gone with Bard and Thranduil to see who it is.” Kíli replied, his eyes flickering back to the tent and then to his brother. “There has also been ravens and missives about Namad sent from all the Kingdoms in Arda. Gondor, Rohan, Dol Amroth, Lothlórien, Lindon…”

With each name Fíli’s shoulders tensed and his heart grew heavy, many Kingdoms knew his One and he never realised how many till now. But he knew who could be coming; he had sent a raven to Rivendell not long ago summoning Glorfindel when they didn’t hear back from them after Gandalf’s.

“It is Glorfindel.” Fíli breathed softly to his brother. “Go tell Uncle I summoned him.”

Kíli frowned and watched as Fíli slumped forward once more as he made his way back into the tent, before he turned and made his way towards where the commotion was. His heart-hearts stammered painfully in his chest as he remembers Glorfindel, and the fact that he was her brother, her Kíli as she had claimed.

“Uncle.” Kíli called, stilling the arguments in the camp, before him stood: Dain, Thranduil, Bard and of course his uncle, along with another army of Elves—no not an army, a company of Elves.

“Kíli? Is it Fíli?” Thorin asked worried, the frown melting into concern.

Kíli shook his head. “He summoned Glorfindel; he has the right to be here and to know. Fíli is waiting for him in—in the tent.”

Glorfindel took the time to scan the faces and felt his heart drop as now the anger had faded away into deep grief. Dread pooled in his chest as he eyed the camp once more, heart hammering heavily and finally he turned towards the Dwarven King. “Why is my sister not here to greet me? Where is Enth? Where is she?”

“Glorfindel, you need to follow me… and your Chosen as well.” Kíli explained gesturing for the two Elves to follow.

“We were unable to make it to the battle in time. Glorfindel and I were making sure the Pass was safe. We were able to cull the Goblins that decided to venture forth from the battle and then we tracked down the fleeing armies.” Erestor explained as he gripped the back of his Chosen’s tunic to keep him from collapsing. “How bad is she?”

The look that the young prince gave him was one that Erestor had seen many times in his life, one that his Chosen had done as well. It was a look of someone who was about to give grave news and didn’t know how to explain it. His shoulders slumped but not enough to alert his near catatonic Chosen.

“I uh… My brother…” Kíli stammered. “He’s not well, he’s hardly spoken and… they wed…”

Erestor’s eyes shot up in surprise and he felt a smile twitch at his lips before he was able to mask it. The sense of grief that flooded from the tent had Erestor grasping Glorfindel tighter while casting a look over his shoulder to see the original Company behind them with solemn looks, the Dwarrow, Elves and Men around them paused in action with sad eyes.

“I know what you are going to say Órenya, please do not.” Glorfindel replied sharply, almost tired before steeling himself for whatever lay beyond the tent flap. He could see the sadness, the grief and suffering of those around him and he hoped beyond hope that she was just badly wounded.

His hands shook as he opened the tent flap, his eyes going to his sister that was situated in the middle of the King’s tent, atop a pile of furs. He did not recall moving from the opening to her side, or when his eyes moved from her pale face to the gaping wound in her chest. But he does recall the cry that left his lips, a scream he had not released since Ecthelion had perished and his kin along with it.

The others watched, even Fíli, as the mighty Balrog Slayer collapsed and seemed to lose the shine about him. They watched him break, his face masked into disbelief until the agony flickered across his face like a flashfire. They watched with various degrees of emotion as he cried, tears spilling down his pale cheeks as he grasped the tunic of their fallen Kin before becoming alert as he grew silent.

Anarinya?” Erestor asked warily, taking a step back from his Heart-Chosen. “Stand back, now.”

The second the company bar Fíli moved back, Glorfindel shot to his feet and screamed, the power that rippled out of him was a true testament of his age as it seemed to wind everyone within the vicinity at the extent of the pain and rage in that one scream.

Glorfindel snapped his jaw shut with a click as he gasped, his lungs burning with the need for air. “Has my sister not suffered enough?” He whispered, drawing all eyes towards the Elf, jerking out of the way as he stormed outside to view the mountain and trees together.

HAS SHE NOT SUFFERED ENOUGH FOR YOU?” He roared, stilling the camps once more. Many looked to one another for any hint and worry that the Elf was yelling at him, that Glorfindel was furious at them.

Four ages she has suffered through grief for you! FOUR! She has stood upon the battle field of Melkor; she has suffered the breaking of her kin’s life for the battle you waged and then every death after that! She has been beaten and broken! SHE TORE THE HEARTS OF HER BROTHER AND SISTER FROM THEIR BREAST AND NOW WHEN SHE FINDS AN OUNCE OF JOY, YOU TAKE IT FROM HER!” He screamed to the sky once more.

Glorfindel, Anarinya!” Erestor warned as he watched his enraged Heart-Chosen scream to the Valar.

No Erestor! I will not be silent no more! Eru, Aulë and Yavanna have caused her enough grief! Look at her mate, he is a shadow of himself and you must agree!” He gritted out before screaming. “I CURSE YOU! BRING HER BACK, YOU GAVE ME THIS THRICE CURSED SECOND LIFE AND I DID NOT DESERVE IT!”

Glorfindel, enough.” The words echoed across the plain and all eyes snapped to the weary voice of the flaxen-haired prince.

}}She would not want you to do this, to tear yourself apart. Here is where I feel her.{{ Fíli explained, his hand over her heart. }}And here is where I can see her grief and love for you, no, let it be my brother.{{

No one but Thorin, Kíli, Glorfindel and Erestor understood the prince’s words, words they have heard on some occasions and explained that they were the dragon-shifters chosen tongue. But they could see that whatever was spoken between the Elf and prince had an effect and again the Elf fell to his knees.

She gave you her heart then.” Glorfindel replied. “A dragon gives only once their heart and freely, be it half to share a lifetime or a whole to bring back the dead. Once given it cannot be returned.” Glorfindel explained with a rasp, his legs shaking and own heart breaking

We should have come Erestor, we should have and then this may not have happened!” Glorfindel whispered as Erestor led him back into the tent with the others.

“This is not your fault Glorfindel, this is no one’s but the Orcs fault.” Erestor comforted, his brows furrowed. “This is not your fault.”

Fíli turned away from the scene and burrowed his head into his wife’s hip, her cold hand upon his cheek. He was thankful that before Gandalf left that he had placed a spell over her to keep her well enough to see to the burial, that he didn’t have to watch her decay.

His heart was heavy though, his body empty of warmth and Fíli just felt numb. He knew that this was what it was like to Fade but he could not let go, he could still feel his One and it was because of her that he stayed with the living. His hand that was not grasping her arm rested upon her stomach, dreams no longer able to be reached, with the loss of Kisenth came the loss of his future of their future.

Days or months seemed to pass before Fíli’s eyes but he could not recall the time between Glorfindel arriving to now, he knew he ate, he could recall Kíli pleading with him but he couldn’t recall much else. His body screamed at him to let go, to just let go and release the grief but he could not…

“Fíli.” The soft voice had his head jerking up and there before him at the door of his tent was his amad.


Amad?” He asked in disbelief, standing slowly and reluctantly letting go of his wife.

Dís stared at her son with sadness; she had arrived with the help of Beorn sooner than possible, leaving the care of her people in the hands of Glóin’s wife. She had come the second her son’s name fell from the shifters lips and explained that he needed her, that his One had perished.

‘I don’t know what to do Namad; he has yet to let it all go…’ Thorin’s words echoed in her head and now she understood, her Mizim was a shell of what he used to be and she can recall the memories in vivid colour of her own loss.

“Come Mizim, let it go.” She crooned as he fell into her arms and shook. “Let it all go ‘Kidzulmudtel.”

At the sound of his inner name falling from his Amad’s lips had whatever wall was holding his grief at bay crumbling down. He screamed and cried till his throat turned hoarse, he let all ounce of grief he had go and the relief lasted for only a second until the numbness returned. He felt hollow once more; even here in the arms of his amad, he could not feel. Fíli was cold and alone, the deep gaping chasm where he knew his heart should be was ever present.

Dís held her son until he stopped crying, her eyes glued to the woman’s face before her. She knew nothing about the woman who had claimed her eldest son’s One. She had only been told that it was because of Isabella that the war was one, risking her life for those she loved. Dís couldn’t help but admire and hate her for it.

“I love her so much.” Fíli whispered into his mother’s dress. “We had plans to be wed the Dwarven way when this was all over.”

“The Dwarven way?” Dís asked softly, her eyes narrowing on the woman but she could not see from this side if there was a marriage braid or not.

Fíli nodded. “I asked her to marry me in Laketown; we were wed that night by Lord Oromë in her tradition. She wanted to have a proper Dwarven wedding under the mountain for you to be there.”

Dís felt her eyes close and tightened her hold onto her son, the feeling of rage and crushing disappointment had faded slightly at that but not all, no, now she will never see her little sun wed… never to grow old and hopefully have a child of his own.

“I miss her amad.” Fíli choked out once more. “I miss her so much, it hurts. Why did she go where I cannot follow?”

“I know ‘Kidzulmudtel, but I am here now, let it all out.” She crooned softly, her eyes snapping to her youngest as he stepped into the tent and her heart clenched even more as she saw that the spark of innocence was no longer there, her boys had grown. She pulled Kíli into her arms as well, he too letting out a choked sob.


Author Note: A shorter chapter but the next chapter will be the burial.

To the anon reviewer who thinks I’m bored of the story because I did a massive time jump… Do you not see my other Twi/LOTR crossovers? I Am literally writing the movie over and over again, I got tired of writing the same scenes so I skipped them to continue the story along. So you all can blame whoever the guest reviewer that thoroughly pissed me off, I was going to finish the Angst on this chapter, decided to drag it out for another.

Fíli’s inner name I mashed together – ‘Kidzulmudtel – Golden heart of all hearts

Amad – Mother
Namad – Sister
Mim razdith – Little Sun = little sun (Oroc.)* that is young/new/fresh (*blaze).
Ghivashel – Treasure of all treasure




7 thoughts on “Chapter Twenty-Five – …Where I Cannot Follow

  1. dude why? pls tell me your gonna bring her back. seriously i can’t take anymore of this angst. its making me cry. it sucks that their future isn’t coming to pass. i want her back, she deserves it..

  2. Really really hoping for a miracle for FIli’s sake here 😦 Don’t want my favorite brother to be sad anymore. He really deserves to be happy, they all do really. And I think Dis really deserves the chance to meet Bella and get to know her to see why everyone loves her so much. Hope you update soon.

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