Of Fire and Stars
by Gecco

Rating: R (for extreme violence and disturbing imagery)

Warning: Major, major Gimli angst. If you got a weak stomach, then read with caution.

Disclaimer: I’m not making any profit from this. With the exception of some original characters, Gimli and all the other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who’s probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: We find out what happened to Gimli during the year while Thorin’s company were away on their Quest. Takes place during “The Hobbit”, don’t like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don’t read this fic.

Notes: This is a AU for the ‘canon’ sticklers since I haven’t read “The Unfinished Tales” yet. This is also Book-version, not Movie-version. And thank you, to those lovely people that reviewed this piece of crap fic ~_^

And another BIG thank you to Miss Amidia, for beta-ing and pointing out some major probs. Thank you!

“Ulfr, are ya all right?” Gimli asked, coming to kneel by Ulfr’s side and putting his axes back in their holsters at his hips.

“No, you fool!” Ulfr snapped irritably, grabbing Gimli’s hand and holding it in a iron-tight grip. He grimaced in pain as Hanar tried to bandage the wound as best he could with some strips of material from Ulfr’s ripped trouser leg.

Gimli said nothing but squeezed the hand grasping his own, offering as much silent support as he could. Svior and Nidi stood near by, keeping watch. Ulfr’s leg didn’t look good; Gimli could tell it was serious by Hanar’s dark look as he worked. Gimli knew that they had to hurry; with their cover blown by the wargs, the goblins where probably on their way.

Ulfr gave a another sharp hiss, his grip nearly crushing Gimli’s hand as Hanar tied the final strip tightly around his leg. Finished, the old Dwarf sat back on his heels and looked gravely at the young Dwarf sitting, panting, on the ground,. He let out a tired sigh; he was not looking forward to what he was about to say. Getting up slowly, Hanar then looked at the four Dwarves now watching him expectantly.

Gimli knew whatever Hanar was going to say wasn’t going to be good, but he steeled himself, and listened.

“It’s bad, lads, the muscles are torn. He can’t walk on his own, and with the goblins coming he’ll only slow us down,” stated Hanar, in his deep gravelly voice.

“We are not leaving him!” shouted Gimli, shooting to his feet, eyes blazing- only to be yanked down again by the hand still clutched in his own. Ulfr gave him a hard look.

“He’s right. You have to leave me behi-”

“Shut up, Ulfr!” snapped Gimli, interrupting him.

“You, shut up!” Ulfr snapped back, irritated at being interrupted.

“No. You, shut up!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up!”

“I’ll tell you to shut up when you being stupid, you witless fool!”

“Who are you calling a fool, you idiot?!”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!!” bellowed Hanar, glaring at the two Dwarves with a mix of anger and exasperation. Both Gimli and Ulfr wisely fell silent. Nidi and Svior watched them, wide-eyed with looks of disbelief, leave it to Gimli and Ulfr to squabble at a time like this.

Gimli rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, the darkness and coal-soot covering up his blush of embarrassment. Ulfr, on the other hand, knew exactly what to say in a situation like this.

“He started it!” he said, pointing a finger at Gimli, trying to look innocent (and failing miserably). This earning him a ‘glare of death’ from the brown-eyed Dwarf he was pointing at. Hanar was now rubbing at both his temples like he had a sudden headache, then after a few moments he let out a big sigh and let his hands drop to his sides. He then looked at all four of them with hard yet compassionate eyes as he looked into each one of their young soot-covered faces, their eyes, each with their own unique color, watching him intently.

“We split up,” he told them. Both Svior and Gimli opened their mouths to say something, but before they could say anything Hanar held up a hand, cutting them off.

“Svior, you Nidi and Gimli will continue on. I will stay with Ulfr, he can’t walk on his own and I…I am old,” he said bitterly, his pride balking to admit it. “I can no longer keep the pace of our flight. We will follow as best we can. Remember to make for Telgor! If we don‘t meet up with you there in three days time, then you‘ll know our fate. Now go!” he ordered.

But none moved, until Gimli’s voice broke the strained silence that had fallen over them.

“I’ll not be leaving Ulfr or you behind,” Gimli said calmly, as if it was a simple statement of fact, before yanking Ulfr’s arm over his shoulder and hauling the protesting Dwarf up, careful of his injured leg. Svior was looking at Nidi- who was looking at the old Dwarf with a strange look in his eyes. Yet still Gimli, Svior, and Nidi didn’t moved.

“I said, go!” shouted Hanar, pointing angrily in the direction of the quarry and the land beyond for emphasis.

“Get out of here, leave me!” demanded Ulfr, leaning heavily against Gimli’s side. He glared right into Gimli’s face, so close their noses were almost touching. But Gimli only glared right back, defiance and determination shinning in his deep-brown eyes, completely ignoring Hanar and the others.

“We’ve come this far, and I’ll not be leaving now. So you’d better just except that I’m not leaving- and there be nothing you can say or do that’s going to make that change! Besides, you’re the closest thing I have to family beside Da and Uncle Oin, and I don’t abandon family, ever.” he said fiercely.

Ulfr looked back at him with wide eyes, Gimli‘s words sinking in. He then gave a defeated sigh, knowing it would be no use trying to change Gimli’s mind when it was made up (besides everyone knew Gimli had a stubborn streak a mile long).

“You idiot!” Ulfr finally shouted, not knowing what else to say, his deep amber eyes shining with emotion. He gave Gimli’s shoulder a light punch, trying to cover up how much he was touched by Gimli’s words. Having been a orphan since he was young, it meant a great deal that someone loved him enough to consider him family and stay by his side in such a dire circumstance.

Hanar let his arm drop; as he watched the two, he knew it was useless. Gloin’s son would stay. Hanar actually would have been surprised if Gimli had listened and continued on. Snorting in defeat, Hanar looked at the other two Dwarves, standing to the right; Gimli and Ulfr too looked over to the others to see what their choice would be.

“Well? Are ya both going to be stupid like Gimli here, or be intelligent and go?” Hanar barked, causing Svior to jump a little and turn his attention away from Nidi to the old Dwarf.

The black-eyed Dwarf looked at the three with an apologetic yet stoic look in his shining obsidian eyes.

“Forgive me, but I will not stay with you…I have my priorities,” He said in a quiet voice, stepping back from the three and pushing Nidi away from them as well. Nidi only turned his blank gaze from the three to look at Svior in question, but Svior was still looking at the three.

“If there is a chance… I- we, we will take it.” Svior said simply, no apology in his voice, just stating a fact. Their friendship was not enough for him to stay; his ultimate loyalty was not to them. The other three said nothing, they did not think him cowardly, understanding and excepting his choice.

“There is nothing to forgive, now go!” Hanar barked, motioning for them to go.

“Good luck to you both! Find that traitor and make him pay!” Gimli told them, holding up a clenched fist for emphasis. “Beat his face in!”

“Make it out of here and live to fight another day. Good luck to you both!” Hanar wished them luck.

“Take good care of Nit now, and Svior?” Ulfr asked, his amber eyes twinkling.

“Aye?”

“When you make it to Telgor, promise me something.”

“Anything”

“Promise you’ll pry that axe handle out of your arse, and relax!” He laughed, Gimli chuckling next to him, Hanar only rolled his eyes and Nidi just looked puzzled.

“Your insane, you know that?” Svior said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, despite the annoyance in his voice .

“After all this, I think we all are,” Hanar said dryly. “Now go!” he demanded.

As if in answer, they heard an angry bellow in the distance, in the direction they had come. Svior gave a sharp nod, then turned and grabbed Nidi’s hand.

“Nidi, we have to go,” he told him quietly. Nidi looked up at Svior with an unreadable look in his honey-brown eyes, just gazing at him. Then Nidi looked at the others for several long moments, studying them each in turn. Closing his eyes, he let out a soft sigh, then opened them again. Only his eyes seemed different now, more aware, older, more mature. It was still Nidi, yet he had changed; his eyes were still disturbingly emotionless.

“We’ll tell others of what happened here and we will find Rowell,” he promised, in a soft voice. Then he turned and looked up at Svior, who was watching him with almost a look of wonder on his face. Nidi gave the thick hand in his own a squeeze.

“We must go, Svior,” he said, barely above a whisper. Svior shook his head as if clearing it from a spell and nodded yes. He turned and gave the three other Dwarves one final look, raising his hand in farewell; the other three did the same.

Then off the two went, side by side, their black forms melting into the darkness.

Nether one looked back at the three they left behind.

~~~

The three made their way as swiftly as they could in the dark over rocky terrain. The stars above were still twinkling happily as the red moon floated lazily across the sky. Gimli and Hanar were on to either side of Ulfr as he limped one legged, as best he could.

It had been an hour since they had split up with Svior and Nidi. Gimli and Hanar scanned the surrounding area for danger as Ulfr concentrated on moving. Every now and then, they’d hear a howl or shout in the distance, each time getting closer. Gimli was actually surprised that the goblins hadn’t over taken them yet. Aside from the first warg’s attack, they hadn’t run into any other obstacles. In his free hand Gimli held one of his axes, just in case.

The vegetation was definitely picking up and they had to dodge the occasional bush or shrub. Trees had also started to appear (actual trees, not the small bent, black and wind-swept trees that lived around Black Hollow), getting consecutively more numerous as the neared the quarry. If they kept their pace, Hanar told them, they’d reach it in about a half hour.

The three talked freely, knowing it made little difference now if they talked out loud or whispered, considering that the orcs knew where they were headed. Ulfr was making full use of this to get some things off his chest.

“I swear, I didn’t know it was raved!” Ulfr said, earnestly.

“How could you not have known?! It was foaming at the mouth! As soon as my Da opened the box, it attacked him!” Gimli said in disbelief, as he ducked a low hanging branch of a tree they were passing. Hanar was flat-out laughing on Ulfr’s other side as he listened.

“Ha, ha, ha, *snort* Gloin almost done in by a raved rabbit! Ha, ha, imagine having to carve that on his tomb. Here lies Gloin, son of Groin. Who fell in battle with the long-eared scourge! *snort*,” he laughed, wiping the tears out of his eyes, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening with his amusement. Ulfr started sniggering, and soon even Gimli couldn’t contain his laughing after that. Perhaps they were going mad, but it felt really good to laugh after so long. They knew that they were probably doomed, but what could they do about it? Better to laugh and accept it, then deny the inevitable.

They had now made it to the lightly wooded area around the quarry. Hanar even pointed out a footprint that could only be Nidi’s, by the size of it, in the lose dirt near a gnarled oak tree.

“Gimli?”

“Aye?”

“Remember when Lady Frior beat the stuffing out of you in front of the Smith’s shop? Then sat on your face until you passed out?” Ulfr asked, a guilty look on his face. As they continued to make their way through the now lightly wooded forest, Ulfr still ‘confessing‘.

“Aye,” Gimli answered slowly. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Ulfr now, picking up his guilty tone.

“Well…I sort of tolled her that you…”

“Ayeeee,” Gimli urged, through clamped teeth. The memory was still fresh in his mind, the confusion of suddenly being attacked by the dark-haired Dwarrow-Dam for no reason, then being smothered as she held him down in a rather painful hold. Hanar just listened quietly, also remembering the incident.

“Well, I was trying to nick a pair of her knickers- on Loini’s dare, remember? Well she caught me, and I sorta’ panicked. I told her…her that…“

“What did you tell her!?”

“I told her that I was stealing them for you.”

“WHAT!?”

“She was going to pound my head in! I panicked! I told her you had this weird knicker fetish. And that you like to wear them or eat them- or something like that. I can‘t really remember,” Ulfr said, looking apologetic.

“WHAT!?! That was a complete lie!!!”

“Aye, but it was the only thing I could come up with at the time!”

Gimli was grinding his teeth, trying to resist the sudden urge to strangle the limping Dwarf. It was taking everything in Hanar’s power not to burst out laughing.

“If it makes you feel any better, she beat me to a pulp anyway. You’re not mad, are ya?” Ulfr asked, looking at the fuming brown-eyed figure next to him, only getting a ’glare of death’ in answer.

“Hanar, come. We must hasten our speed.” Gimli suddenly urged, tighten his grip on Ulfr as he picked up their pace, a new determination flashing in his eyes. Hanar just raised a bushy eyebrow in question.

“What’s going on, Gimli?” Ulfr asked in confusion.

“I have to make sure we live and make it to Telgor. So I can kill you myself!!!” Gimli snapped, glaring at the amber-eyed Dwarf.

For several moments all was quiet then Ulfr very theatrically stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, and looked at Gimli with big beseeching eyes, trying to look deeply wounded -and failing miserably at it.

“I thought you loved me!? *sniff*” he said in a high-pitched falsetto, making his voice waver as if he was going to cry. Gimli just rolled his eyes, not the least bit impressed with Ulfr’s antics. Hanar just laughed; if these two youngsters were anything, it was entertaining, the old Dwarf thought to himself.

~~~

Twenty minutes had past and the three now found themselves making their way through the forest just before the quarry. It was slow going, the trees making it harder to walk abreast, and they jostled Ulfrs’ leg once or twice on the way . They kept looking about in suspicion, jumping at noises that where nothing.

After jumping at the umpteenth shadow and only seeing a tree moving in the wind, Gimli decided he definitely disliked forests. The trees played tricks on them: too many shadows, to many things that could hide in them. He also knew that the goblins should have caught up with them by now, and it set his nerves on end, his instincts buzzed with danger.

The three gave a sigh of relief as they finally broke through the tree line surrounding the quarry. All the vegetation stopped about good kilometer from the quarry’s edge, leaving only the limestone sheet rock until the edge dropped off.

The quarry itself looked like a steep cliff, dropping off into a vast darkness below, stretching along distance to either side of them. They couldn’t see it, but they knew that the bottom of the quarry lay below in that darkness, many feet below. Past the quarry was a forest, then somewhere in that forest was a major traveling road, and beyond that- the small farming town of Telgor.

They knew that the goblins would probably not follow any farther then the road, for the road was frequently patrolled by Rangers. If they could just make it past the road, they might have a chance. But first they must get down to the quarry’s floor.

“Go to the left- there should be a large platform we can winch our selves down with.” Hanar said. The three slowly made their way to the left, looking for the platform. The quarry had been in disuse after all the good limestone had been mined out of it; now only occasionally did people used it. But the system of pulleys they had used to haul up the stones should still be there.

Gimli’s instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong, that they needed to get out of here.

They continued to look for the platform, but after long minutes of searching, they still couldn’t find it. Hanar was at a loss as the three now stood where the platform should have been. But it wasn’t there. The old Dwarf kept muttering under his breath about a torch, for some proper light, as he searched about tugging on his beard.

Gimli didn’t like this one bit, he tightened his grip on the comforting weight of his axe as he continued to scan the tree line around them. Ulfr stood next to him, looking quietly over his shoulder at Hanar behind them. Gimli could feel a minute trembling in Ulfr’s body; even though he hadn’t said anything except for the occasional hiss, Gimli could tell that his friend was in a great deal of pain, not to mention blood loss. They had to get help, and soon.

Gimli continued to scan the darkness around them, jumping every now and then when a dark shadow would move, convinced it was a goblin before he would realize it was just a branch or shrub moving in the wind, or just another trick of the starlight.

“Curse those creatures! Must they destroy everything!?” Hanar yelled angrily from behind them, startling the two, as the old Dwarf looked at something near the edge.

“What is it, Hanar?” Ulfr asked tiredly, still holding on to Gimli for support.

He was just going to walk himself and Ulfr over to the old Dwarf- when he caught movement off to his left. He quickly whipped around, causing Ulfr to hiss in pain at the jarring of his leg, Gimli held his axe at the ready. But once again, all he saw was the black silhouettes of the trees, their branches swaying in the wind. Taking a cue from Gimli, Ulfr remained quiet, scanning the darkness as well, but he also saw nothing. Gimli could have sworn he saw something creeping along in the tree line.

‘Something moved… and it was no tree,’ Gimli thought to himself, as he readjusted his grip on his axe. Ulfr’s warm weight on his other shoulder was oddly comforting as it was heavy.

“Did you see something?” Ulfr asked in a hushed voice, his free hand rested on the handle of his sword at his hip.

“Yes…but I still see nothing, except damned trees,” Gimli whispered back, they both continued to look suspiciously about for several long moments. They could hear Hanar behind them shuffling about, muttering under his breath; finally they both gave up.

Reluctantly he and Ulfr turned their attention back to Hanar, who looked up at their approach.

“The dammed goblins tore it down, look,” he said pointing out the large chipped and crumbling cracks in the rock that they hadn’t noticed before. “Those accursed creatures somehow managed rip out the platforms foundations. Probably threw the it over the edge,” he continued, anger and disgust in his voice as he glared in to the dark abyss over the edge, his scarred hands clenched in fury.

Then suddenly he stiffened, his eyes going wide as a terrible realization struck him. He then backed away from the edge, forcing both Gimli and Ulfr to back up as well. Both Gimli and Ulfr managed to scramble out of the way, avoiding a collision with the old Dwarf; both regarded him with confusion, neither understanding his sudden change of behavior.

Hanar quickly turned and looked around the clearing with greatly troubled eyes, as if searching for someone. But there was only the dark trees that seemed to watch them, the oblivious stars twinkling merrily above, and the two confused, anxious young Dwarves watching him. Hanar could feel his heartbeat speed up in his chest. The platform had been destroyed some time ago, probably a month ago by the dust and moss growing in the broken cracks in the stone. There is no sign of Svior and little Nidi, and no doubt those foul creatures are already slither about the woods. Now we are trapped, I was wrong to pick this way. I have failed us, I failed us all, he thought to himself. Slowly he turned to the two Dwarves behind him; rich brown and amber watched him, anxiously waiting.

“I’m sorry, lads. That was the only way down.”

“But…how did Nidi and Svior get down?” Ulfr asked in a whisper, looking at Hanar’s deathly still face. Gimli watched and waited, his own heartbeat speeding up, his senses crackling with warning. He knew the answer; he could read the dread in the old Dwarf’s eyes.

The unanswered question hung in the air, yet none spoke. They all knew the answer, but none could bring themselves speak it. A cold chill seemed to roll up their spines, as the three black soot-covered figures just stood there, staring at one another, dread in their eyes.

There was no other way down, and their two companions were no wear in sight.

A loud snickering laugh floated from somewhere in the trees behind them.

The three whirled around, weapons drawn, hearts now racing.

Yet they saw nothing, just the dark shapes of the trees, the wind making their branches sway and moan. With baited breath they continued to scan the tree line, each tightening their grip on their weapon, standing stock-still, searching… waiting.

Ulfr stood straighter, ignoring the pain as he put weight on his injured leg, knowing he would have to stand on his own if he wished to fight and not weigh Gimli down. Unwinding is arm from around Gimli’s neck, he carefully stepped away from him and stood on his own. A grimace of pain curled his lips as he stood with his sword at the ready. Hanar had moved up on Ulfr’s other side, so now the three Dwarves stood side by side, Hanar’s battle axe in both his callused and scarred hands as he glared out into the darkness.

Now that he was no longer holding Ulfr up, Gimli took out his other axe, and held them both at the ready, his heart feeling as if it was trying to pump right out of his chest. His deep-brown eyes were narrowed as he scanned the darkness, looking for the danger his instincts were screaming was there. He kept looking, waiting. But still nothing, just trees, shadows, and wind. Then as he was going to look in a different area of the tree line- he saw something.

There, there right beside a tree in the dark, was a pair of green slitted eyes.

They were fairly low to the ground, right next to a tree. As if sensing Gimli’s gaze, the slitted eyes turned and looked directly at him. A sudden line off sharp pointed teeth appeared under the eyes; it was grinning at him. Just a set of bulbous green eyes and a grin, in the darkness.

He heard Ulfr give a curse beside him, that was when he noticed the other eyes that were now appearing in the darkness. To Gimli it suddenly seemed as if hundreds of them were shinning out from the darkness of the trees. All with varying shades of milky yellows and sickly greens, floating in the darkness at varying heights, some small, some big. All of them glaring back at the three soot-covered Dwarves with eager, hungry eyes.

“Looks like some meat escaped the fire after all!” Cackled a hissing voice from the darkness. Followed by hissing cackles, and snickering.

With that, the tree line seemed to seethe and ripple as dark creeping figures poured out of the trees like crawling insects, disturbed from their nest. With shrieks of glee they raced towards the three like a spiny black tide, hunger and hate fueling their horrible frenzy.

As they watched the orcs swarm towards them, adrenalin flooded their systems, a calm seemed to come over them. A prideful smile suddenly split Hanar’s face as he adjusted his grip on his battleaxe.

“I want you lads to know, that I’m proud of ya. And if your fathers where here… they’d be proud of ya too. Now lets make these bastards work for their ‘meal‘. Then, we can join our loved ones at Mahal‘s side!” With that, Hanar took a deep breath and let out a roaring battle-cry, both Ulfr’s and Gimli’s voices joining his deep call.

Each of the three poured their anger, pain, and despair into the cry. Their combined voices nearly downed out the answering shrieks and bellows of the twisted creatures racing towards them. The quarry amplifying and distorted their combined voices, making their voices echo about like one strange single voice, calling out in the night.

Then at some unspoken command, both Gimli and Hanar charged forward to meet the shrieking mass of orc and goblins. Ulfr stayed behind, waiting for the goblins to come to him.

Racing forward, Gimli ran and met the first goblin head on; with ease it was quickly dispatched, soon followed by one of its shrieking brethren. The sound of combat now filled his ears; he knew the others where also engaging the orcs, for he could hear the ringing strikes of Ulfr’s sword and Hanar’s axe clashing against the rusted and poorly made blades of the orcs and goblins around him.

An orc gave a gurgle as it fell, it’s head almost completely severed by one of his crescent blades.

Gimli let himself fall into a rhythm, his blood singing in his veins, his movements quick and graceful, belaying the deadly unforgiving power behind them.

A goblin’s arm went flying, still clutching a broken scimitar.

He flowed, his movements fluid. He threw himself into the rush of it.

A large orc managed to block one of his axes, but was unable to block Gimli’s almost instant counter, which neatly lopped both of the orc‘s clawed hands off.

His began to dance, the primal dance of death. A dance that made his mother so feared, his grandfather revered and his great-grandmother remembered with dread.

A goblin gave a shrill shriek as Gimli blocked it’s sword, and gave a powerful kick directly to its knee, causing the joint to bend backwards with a ‘cracking’ of breaking bones, followed a moment later with a crushing blow to it’s temple with an axe haft.

His twin axes rang out, swinging in intricate and graceful patterns of slashes and blocks.

An orc’s eyes bulged obscenely as an axe sliced through the side of its thick ribcage, the blade plowing through the thick muscle and bone with frightening ease.

All wariness had left Gimli; he was in his element. The occasional hot splash of blood hitting his body was more refreshing to him at that moment then the coolest spring water. The pained shrieks of the orcs and goblins were like sweet music to his ears. If he were not so enwrapped in his ‘dance’ he would have noticed that the heavy ringing strikes of Hanar’s axe were now silent.

More of the Evil Folk fell, most with massive fatal injuries; others where dead before they even hit the ground.

The orc’s and goblins were growing a bit more wary of this ‘meat’ now, giving him a little more space. Gimli could also tell that the orcs and goblins who now attacked were better fighters then the ones before. Some even managing to trade and block one or two of his blows before joining the rest of the bodies now littering the starlit clearing.

He was just dispatching another orc when he heard Ulfr’s voice cry out somewhere to his left. He whipped around and looked in the direction he had heard the cry. There near the edge of the quarry was his friend. Gimli’s heart gave a leerch at what he saw.

Ulfr was on his knees, grimacing in horrible pain; one of his hands was just a bloody stump, his sword nowhere in sight. Towering behind the Dwarf was a large orc who had a cruel grip on Ulfr’s hair, pulling his head sharply back, a large rusty scimitar poised to cut the Dwarf’s throat. Ulfr knew he was defeated, but he still glared his defiance and hate at the grinning orc above him, steeling himself for the bite of the orc’s blade. Gimli recognized the large orc as the orc female they had seen from the barn’s roof; she still wore the same rusted and filthy chain mail shirt from before.

“Ulfr!” Gimli shouted, without a second thought, he took aim for the tall figure above his friend. No goblins or orcs were near enough to be in the way, giving Gimli a clear shot. Bringing back his right arm, he threw his axe with such force it made his arm ache. The axe flew true, spinning with deadly accuracy towards its unsuspecting target.

Just as the orc was going to slice her victim’s throat she paused, hearing a strange whistling sound. She jerked her head up to look -only to see Gimli’s axe flying at her. Her small pale yellow eyes narrowed and she let out a angry hiss, her lips drawing back from her sharp rotting black and yellow teeth. Then, she did something that would haunt Gimli for the rest of his life.

Seeing that there was no time for her to dodge out of the way, she suddenly grabbed and yanked a surprised Ulfr completely off the ground and held the struggling and cursing young Dwarf in front of her like a shield.

Gimli watched in horror unable to do anything as his axe slammed with unforgiving force into his best friend’s body. The force driving the air from his lungs, throwing his head back, thick red blood flying out of his gasping mouth. The shocking splash of red on his other wise black-covered body was startling even in the low light of the stars. The strike of the heavy axe on her living shield caused the orc holding Ulfr to stumble a step back.

Gimli watched wide-eyed, frozen to the spot, as everything seemed to slow down around him, his entire focus on his fiend’s shocked face. Gimli’s despair knew no bounds as Ulfr’s amber eyes somehow found his own deep brown ones across the distance between them. Shock turned to confusion, then to realization. Then the corner of Ulfr’s blood covered mouth twitched as if he was trying to smile, as if he just thought up something funny. Gimli could almost hear Ulfr’s voice in his head, cracking some joke about irony. Those eyes started to lose focus and then the light began to slowly fade from those amber depths, until there was no light in them. Then he was gone, hanging limp in the orc’s grasp.

It was Gimli’s axe, his throw; he had killed his best friend. He had murdered his best friend with his own hand.

With a snort of annoyance, the orc tossed the Dwarf’s body away from her, Ulfr’s body fell boneless to the ground near the edge of the quarry. Just tossed away like a piece of garbage. What had seemed like an eternity was actually only a few seconds.

A goblin taking advantage of Gimli’s frozen distraction, slammed a kick into the Dwarf’s unprotected side, knocking him off his feet, driving the air from his lungs and sending him tumbling several yards. A couple of the orcs and goblins roared their approval, shaking their scimitars and swords in delight.

Gimli limp body came to a skidding stop by a dark motionless body, he lay there stunned, his world spinning around him. A part of him was aware of several orcs running over to finish him off, he knew he should get up, but what was the point? His whole body hurt, Ulfr was dead, killed by his own hand, and he was just so tired. It felt like there was a gaping hole where his heart used to be. It was over, just let them finish it, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. But another part of him could just hear his mother’s voice bellowing ‘Get up! Get up!’. A memory from long years past, suddenly came to him…

“Oouff!”

His eyes snapped open. He couldn’t stay down. His mother wouldn’t allow it; his pride wouldn’t allow it. He had to kill as many of ‘them’ as he could- he had to kill that orc bitch for Ulfr!

He became aware of an orc standing over him, a look of pure malicious glee on its ugly face, preparing to bring its scimitar down to finish him off. Gimli rolled quickly out of the way just as the orc’s scimitar stabbed down where his chest had been just moments before. Getting to his feet, he quickly lopped the surprised orc’s head off before it could raise it’s weapon again. Then he turned and threw his remaining axe at the lanky goblin running up with its sword raised. It gave a howl as the axe sunk into its chest, knocking it back.

Then with a deft move Gimli reached behind him and took out the double-bladed battle axe from his belt, he gripped the haft of the heavy axe with both hands. He felt the familiar thrill that always ran up his spine whenever he held the ancient weapon. The orcs and goblins were still advancing, but after seeing this particular ‘meat’ in action, they were more bit more cautious.

Gimli took a step back to get in a better stance, and stepped on the body behind him. The body was face down, and at first he assumed in was a dead goblin. But a closer look showed it to be the bloody and mutilated body of a Dwarf, a broken battle-axe still clutched in a broad hand. It was Hanar’s battle-axe.

Hanar was gone.

Now he knew he was truly and totally alone. It was just him and the advancing group of orcs and goblins, with their hungry and eager eyes.

His heart beat a pounding tempo within his chest as he watched them get closer. But it did not beat in fear; no, it beat with his hate, his vengeance. His deep brown eyes blazed with a consuming fire, his white teeth bared in a fearsome snarl; blood trickled thickly, and unnoticed from the side of his mouth. He could feel a hot burning ball of all his combined hate, sadness, fear, despair, anger, and hopelessness gather and rise within him.

Rowell’s betrayal, all the beatings and insults they had suffered at the hands of the goblins, the others still down in the burning mine. Shala, all the women and little ones, the terror they must have had to endure. Nidi, Svior, Hanar, and Ulfr, to have come so far only to fail. Images of his lost family forever seared into his mind flashed before him. The terrified look in Nin’s eyes before the horse slammed into him and his twin fell under the pound hooves. Mano’s small fevered face as the toddler slipped away in his crying mother’s arms. The lost and tired look in Minal’s dark sunken eyes as she tottered off to pick the last flowers she would ever see. Daira’s broken and ripped apart body, his limbs scattered about the bloody forest floor. His mother’s horribly pale and pained face, as she fought against the plague eating away at her body. The hopeless sorrow he felt as he watched, unable to help her as the huddled together in that cold rain-soaked alley, listening to his father’s sobs of grief, as he clutched her limp body.

Old pain and new pain merged into one. His vision went red, everything seemed to go quiet, and an electric charge seemed to strum through him. Then that ball of emotions, old and new… burst.

“I’LL KILL YOU ALL!!!” he screamed his rage, as he charged forward.

An armed Dwarf in a full berserker rage is truly something to dread. He fought them like a thing possessed; like a horrible demon he tore into the orcs and goblins, his axe screaming like a wraith, warning of death. Everything seemed to become a blur, black blood flew, the howls of agony filled his ears like a chorus. Nothing seemed to hurt him. He showed no mercy, for his white-hot rage would stand for nothing less. His axe screamed and seemed to demand more blood! More sacrifice! More death! Limbs and heads went flying, intestines spilled from opened bellies, ribs and bones broke like wet twigs under Blood Screamer’s thick crescent blades.

Gimli fought on, not even aware of the injuries he was taking, though they where nothing compared to the massive injuries he was dishing out to the twisted and shrieking creatures around him. He had a goal, and it was to reach the large orc female, who watched with a smirk on her ugly face, simply waited for him to get to her. She had heard that axe’s wail before, on a crowded battle field many, many years ago, and was thrilled at the thought of taking the weapon for her own.

Gimli had just eviscerated another howling orc when the remaining handful of orcs and goblins backed away, unwilling to test their mortality against the dark, snarling, fire-eyed demon now in their mists. Some of the more cowardly ones quickly scuttled back to the darkness of the tree line.

Now nothing stood between him and the orc bitch, who now stood with her scimitar at the ready, a malicious smile on her face.

She couldn’t wait, for surly this Dwarf must be one of the offspring of the feared wielder of the ‘Soul Ripper’ (what the goblins and orcs called Blood Screamer, during the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs). If she took that feared weapon as her own, then not even Illzog would challenge her! She would be leader! She would take the weapon, then feast on the flesh of that long feared warrior’s offspring, and take his power for her own!

“Comez to me little dirt-rat! I lookz forwardz to feasting on your entrailz!!!” she bellowed with glee. With eyes blazing he charged forward to oblige her, they met with an echoing clash of weapons.

They traded rapid and heavy blows, straining against each other’s strength. While having no grace, the orc was skilled and monstrously strong, even for an orc. She was not like the other orcs or goblins that were left to guard the town; she was a warrior and survivor of the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs, second only to the absent Illzog.

But even she was surprised at the young Dwarf’s speed and ferocity.

Gimli swung his axe aiming for her torso, but she managed to sidestep it. He leapt back to barely avoid a downward hack by her scimitar, then deftly danced out of the way of her counterthrust. He tried to catch her in the side but she blocked. He countered with a quick spin, slashing low, trying to catch her legs.

She tried to jump out of the way of the axe’s blades but it caught her left ankle, cutting it clean off. She gave a roar of pain and stumbled back, swinging her sword out in several of wild slashes, mainly in the hope of keeping him at bay. Unfortunately one managed to slash the left side of his face before he could block in time.

“Aargh!” he yelled in searing pain, stumbling back, clutching at his bleeding face. He had been blinded in one eye. The hot flow of blood was alarming, he could feel it cascade down the side of his face, the coopery metallic taste as it seeped into the corner of his mouth, the feeling of it seeping into his beard, staining his face red. He could feel a jagged rip from his eye to his hairline. What irony! A small voice laughed in the back of his mind, that he should get a wound in the exact place as his mother‘s scar. Just then something warned him to duck.

He barely missed the orc’s rusty scimitar just in time to save himself from being decapitated. The orc gave an enraged growl at his escape. She reversed her swing and lunged at him again; he brought his axe to bare and blocked her powerful strike with a grunt.

They broke apart and clashed again, the orc limping around on the bloodied stump of her left leg, her rage dulling the pain for the moment, cursing and screaming obscenities the entire time. Gimli tried to work with his now-limited vision, ignoring the pain, not knowing if his left eye was destroyed or not.

The female’s rage was making her sloppy; her attacks were more erratic, becoming more desperate. Instead of taking Blood Screamer as her own, she was becoming another one of its victims, and she did not like it one bit.

They continued to trade blows, both trying break through the other’s defense, straining against the other’s strength. Gimli had avoided another wild downward swing, when he saw an opening. For the orc had made the grave mistake of over-extending herself with the last downward sing. With a frightening fast move of his axe, he severed her arm, before she could recover from her blunder.

She gave a horrible shriek as it flew off, still clutching her sword, the stump spraying black blood. She fell to her knees in front of him, clutching the stump in pain. For several moments all was quiet. Noticing the calm, she looked up to see Gimli standing in front of her, axe at the ready as he watched her drinking in the sight of her defeat. Her yellow eyes narrowed in hate; realizing that she was defeated, she gave an enraged hiss then spit right in Gimli’s face. One last insult.

With a look of disgust and rage Gimli swung his axe around and brought it down with all his strength. With frightening ease the axe cut through her shoulder, her chain-mail shirt offering no protection against the screaming blade of the axe and the pure power of the Dwarf wielding it. The axe sliced through her thick torso, plowing threw bone, muscles and organs alike until it was finally free, her body severed in two.

Her black blood fountaining almost drenching him as the two parts of her body fell to the ground, a black pool of blood quickly forming under the twitching body. Seeing that she was now finally dead, Gimli quickly turned around, his axe dripping with gore, ready for the next orc or goblin.

But there was none, they were all gone, having all run off after the female orc lost her arm (there was no loyalty among these evil folk).

It was only him and the dead bodies littered about the clearing, with only the moon and stars as witnesses to what had taken place. For long moments he didn’t move, just stood there, panting from his exertions, the adrenalin and battle frenzy draining from him. Leaving him feeling light-headed as minute tremors of exhaustion began to rack his body. He started to become aware of other injuries that just now decided to let themselves be known.

The side he had been kicked in was painful, and he was finding it hard to breath, probably a couple of broken ribs. There were deep bleeding cuts running all along his back and arms, and of coarse, the searing pain on the left side of his face that throbbed with every beat of his heart. But his physical wounds were nothing like the dark well inside him. The anger and hate were gone, leaving him feeling horribly hollow.

Mechanically, without thinking about it, he bent down to wipe Blood Screamer clean of blood and gore, of on his trousers leg before replacing it back in it’s holster on the back of his belt. Then he walked, slowly numbly, over to the body of a lanky goblin, Gimli’s axe still sticking out of it’s chest. He put his foot on the body and grabbed hold of the axe; with a yank he ripped it out of the corpse. Cleaning off the gore, he put axe back in the holster at his side before slowly walking back to the quarry’s edge where Ulfr’s crumpled form lay.

He fell to his knees by the body. It took himself several long moments to work up the courage to touch his friend’s body. Carefully he turned Ulfr’s body over and on to his back. Seeing the extent of the damage his axe had caused, another wave of guilt washed over him. With shaking hands, Gimli began to pry the deeply-imbedded axe from his friend’s chest as gently as he could, whispering nonsense words of comfort that fell on Ulfr‘s deaf ears.

Finally the axe was free and Gimli looked at it like one would look at a poisonous creature. Thick red blood dripping from it’s crescent blade, and he suddenly remember the sense of deja vu from earlier, on the barn’s roof. It had been a sign. He let the axe fell from his shaking fingers- to clattered heavily to the ground, but at the moment Gimli did not care. He gathered Ulfr’s still warm body to himself, and slowly began to rock, not even aware he was doing so.

“Please, forgive me…I did not mean… I got her for you, Ulfr. I killed that bitch. The other…ones ran off. Hanar’s dead…but you knew that. Old bastared… I never got the chance to ask him how he escaped from the troll.

“It’s funny, I…I don’t know what to do. I didn’t think I’d live. Still can’t get down, and I can’t go back.

“I… I don‘t know what to do!“ He said with a laugh that sounded more like a sob. Ulfr said nothing; his dull amber eyes stared unfocused at the stars above them.

“You…if…if only you hadn’t let that damned warg get your leg. You could have easily defeated her, and you…you’d be here with me now. And I wouldn’t be hear alone, talking to your corpse!” He yelled, giving Ulfr’s body a shake, a ring of hysteria in his voice.

“Why…why do I lose everyone?” he asked aloud in a small broken whisper, his pleading, brown eye wide, staring at nothing as he continued to rock. There were no tears; he didn’t have any more to give. The fire was gone from their glassy depths; all that remained was a young Dwarf hurt, frightened, and horribly alone.

For over an hour he stayed like that, just rocking until the rocking slowly cease and he finally put his friend’s body back down and reverently closed his staring eyes. He neatly arranged Ulfr’s limbs as best he could before he got up and dragged Hanar’s heavy body next to Ulfr’s. He numbly went about his task, having to hunt around for Hanar’s right leg and forearm, as well as Ulfr’s missing hand. But he eventually found them and arranged their bodies properly, until the two lay side by side, their the arms holding their weapons over their chests.

A few feet away, Gimli stood quietly near the quarry’s edge, the dark forest at his back, gazing out over the dark abyss and the stars that stretched into infinity above. His axe stained with his friend’s red blood, and now held in an equally bloodied hand, hung limply at his side. As he listened intently to the sounds of the wind and the creek and moan of the trees as the sound was bounced and amplified by the stone walls of the quarry.

He stood there lost in that sea of stars, the red sickle mood still making its lazy journey across the night sky. When his was younger, and the hour was late and their campfire was only smoldering ambers, his mother would sometimes say, “Remember, when even the hottest fires burn out and the night is dark- look up! For the fire in the stars still burn. The stars burn on. The stars burn always.”

Mother…I’m lost. What do I do now? The stars don’t have answers, he thought sorrowfully to himself.

*drip*

As he stood there, staring up- he became slowly aware of a sound behind him.

*drip, scrape*

He froze, listening more closely to the sounds.

*wheeze, scrape, drip, drip*

A heavy something, quietly making its way towards him, the steady sound of dripping liquid hitting the clearing’s limestone floor. Deep labored breathing that gurgled wetly, the kind of thick gurgle that one only gets if there’s blood in the lungs.

*drip, drip, scrape*

Then came a deep menacing growl that raised all the hairs on the back of his neck.

Whipping around, he turned just in time to see a flash dark gray fur and of a single burning red eye, as a gapping, bloody mouth full of gleaming razor teeth came rushing at him- he felt a hot blast of rancid air on his face and neck. He tried to raise his axe for a block, but it was to close- too fast.

He hadn’t even lifted his axe halfway up before it slammed into him. His air was suddenly cut off as an incredible pressure suddenly clamped around his throat.

The alpha warg, came the realization. Should of finished it off when I had the chance.

He felt his booted feet lose contact with the ground as the warg’s heavy body plowed into him and suddenly he was staring up at the stars spinning above. The sensation of falling.

He realized the force of the warg’s attack had thrown them both over the edge of the quarry. Everything seemed to narrow, until there was only the sound of wind rushing past his ears as he fell, the growls of the warg and the strange sensation of those growls vibrating through his neck. The rancid smell of the Warg’s hot breath stung his nose, his axe still clutched tightly in his broad hand, now useless. His lungs screamed for air, mouth open in a silent scream, his one good eye wide staring up at the last thing he knew he would ever see.

Stars.

Not many knew but Gimli loved stars; he had even been named partially after them. They alone seemed to have remained a constant in his life, the one guarantied beautiful thing he could always count on.

The pressure around his neck suddenly increased, and he heard a cracking, followed by a sudden snapping sound.

A quietness seemed to take hold of him then, as he calmly watched the red moon float serenely in a swirling sea of stars. The sensation of the warg’s growls reverberating through his neck faded, the wind rushing past his ears was suddenly silent. The rancid smell of the warg’s foul breath vanished, his lungs no longer burned for air, and the pain from his numerous injuries seemed to slowly float away.

I’m dying,” he thought calmly.

It was over, no more fighting, no more hunger, no more pain...

I’m sorry, Da. I did want to see Erebor. I’m glad uncle Oin is there to keep you company…wait for me Ulfr…I’m coming…

Everything continued to fade until it was nothing, but the stars above.

Just the stars…until they too faded away and he was swallowed by the darkness.

~~~~~~

Yes, I am evil.