Thorin sighed, reaching for yet another of the missives that had piled up on his cluttered desk. It had been many years since the Fell Winter as folk were calling it, but he felt as if they were still recovering. They had barely made it through the harsh season, and when spring had come at last it was as if the land itself breathed a sigh of relief. Prey had been slow to return, fruit trees had been damaged, and food remained hard to find for quite awhile, but the warmer weather had brought hope.
Continuing to idly scan the parchment as he let his thoughts run off into memory, Thorin was jerked back to the present as certain words glared off the page. 'Thrain...spotted in Dunland...wandering.' His heart skipped a beat, resuming its pace at a faster rate than normal. Could it be true? Could his father still be alive? There was no question what he would do now. He had to go looking. He had to be sure, because if there was even the slightest chance that he could bring his father home...
Slamming the paper down he headed decisively for his room, taking out a travel-stained cloak and serviceable bag. He carefully packed it with anything he might need, clipping his sword onto his belt and slinging the pack over his shoulder. All he needed to do was inform the family of his imminent departure and leave Balin in charge. Dis and Mara would have enough to do in his absence without having to worry about his duties, and he knew his long time friend would have his back in this.
He went to Balin first, the elder dwarf giving him an understanding smile and trying to hide the doubtful sorrow in his eyes that said he believed the trip to be in vain, but he knew why Thorin was going regardless. He next gathered his family in the sitting room, both Dis and Mara eyeing his travel gear with puzzled apprehension. He offered Mara a small smile of reassurance before turning to Dis, nervously anticipating her reaction to his news.
"I've received news," he announced lowly, his tone sending Dis into rising suspicion. She gave him a sharp look, waiting impatiently. "Rumor has it that Thrain, our father, was spotted wandering the wilds in Dunland."
Dis gasped, turning a strange shade of white before glaring at Thorin. "You told me you found his body outside Moria," she accused, tears falling unbidden from her eyes as Mara clasped her shoulders in rising worry. "You said he was so mangled I shouldn't even look, that you knew it was him!"
Thorin's eyes were filled with rising shame. "I told you that to spare you the grief. In truth we did not find him at all. The last I saw was him charging towards the gates. I felt certain that he was dead when he did not return, and it seemed naive to believe otherwise. I am so sorry, I just wanted to spare you the pain of living in fearful hope as I have all these years. I must be sure, if there is even a chance..."
Dis's anger melted into pained understanding. She knew her brother had precious little hope, though he would go still, and shoulder the load like every other he had taken upon himself for so long. She grasped him in a tight embrace. "Go then, and may you find him and bring him home," she whispered.
Mara hugged him next. "Come home safely to me," she ordered him sternly, prompting a smile to cross his rugged face. He nodded, murmuring a farewell for only her ears before turning to the three young men that stood before him. His nephews were full grown, his son nearly so, and all filled him with an intense jolt of pride. His heirs. He could not wait to show them to his father.
"Take care of your mothers," he instructed them, clasping all three by the shoulders firmly one by one.
He left the town behind without fuss, taking as little notice as possible as he headed south and into the wilds. The journey was long and arduous, filled with dead ends and nights spent hand on sword in unfamiliar territory. In the end he found nothing, no proof that there was any merit to the rumors whatsoever. He turned at last to make his way slowly home, arriving at Bree disgusted, tired and hungry. Night had long since fallen, and only the flickering of torch lights skimmed over the shadowed faces of the taller beings that meandered through the town at this late hour. Despite that, many were still out and about, ducking in and out of the tavern and going about their less legal business transactions where none were likely to see them. Thorin kept his hood covering his face and his hand on his sword hilt, discomfort thrumming through his veins.
Making the doorway of the inn, he at last allowed himself a sigh of relief, pushing back the sodden hood of his cloak and removing the heavy fabric before hanging it over a nearby rack to dry. He wound his way through the room, avoiding eye contact with the other patrons and ordering a meal in a low tone from the serving maid that had followed him to his chosen table. She delivered it promptly, leaving him to his food in relative peace, which he felt grateful for. Sometimes the wenches wanted to talk, interested in seeing a dwarf this far south, but he was not in the mood for that and it appeared this one was a perceptive sort.
Taking a large drought of ale, he began idly pulling apart the rich bread, hair prickling on the back of his neck. He felt like he was being watched, and lifted his head cautiously to glance around him. At first nothing seemed amiss. Men were crowded around the many tables littering the room, chatting and laughing with drinks in their hands. A spattering of smaller folk could be seen as well. Hobbits that shared the town with the men. They wove their way through the crowd with expert ease, accepting help only to clamber up on to the tall bar stools.
His cursory observation of the room almost completed, Thorin caught sight of a pair of unsavory looking characters at opposite corners of the room. They were not drinking or chatting, and they appeared in fact to be alone, if they were not with each other. He sensed that they were, and that their purpose was to no good as they rose from their chairs either side of him and began to approach. His hand drifted slowly to the hilt of his sword, placed in such a way that he could easily draw it within seconds. Thorin groaned inwardly, he had no wish to cause bloodshed in this establishment, but he would be damned if he allowed these vagabonds to get the best of him.
He was just about to confront the closer of the two when a tall figure slipped into the seat across from him. The newcomer had the immediate effect of driving off his would-be assailants, the men scowling and retreating from the tavern to find easier prey. Shaking off his startlement, Thorin knew instantly why the men had given up, for the grey-clad man that now eyed him expectantly was easily recognizable. They had only dealt with each other a handful of times in the distant past, when Erebor was still a kingdom instead of a ruin, but he remembered the wizard enough to know he could trust him.
"Gandalf," he sighed. "What brings you here? I feel I can safely assume this is no chance meeting?"
The wizard smiled wryly. "You would be correct," he confirmed agreeably. "I have a proposition for you, the same proposition I once made your father long ago." Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice. "It is high time for the dwarves to take back Erebor," he advised a now gaping Thorin. "Gather your people, set out for the mountain. This I will aid you in doing, for the dragon concerns me greatly. It has sat there for far too long."
Thorin frowned thoughtfully even as he felt a thrill of anticipation from the wizards stirring speech. "The clans will not rally to me, you know this," he reminded the wizard. "Only the one who holds the arkenstone has that power, and it lies half a world away under a fire-breathing dragon."
"What if we could get it?" Gandalf asked mysteriously.
"That would certainly change things," came the immediate reply. "How?"
"We will need a burglar," Gandalf said with a smile. "That also I can get for you."
They spoke for a few minutes more, finalizing details and agreeing on a meeting place, and it was with lighter heart that Thorin retired to his bed for the night. Dreams of his lost kingdom ran through his head, the image of his son and nephews standing in the reclaimed mountain a thought that filled him with new hope.
Author's note: To those that have traveled over from my first segment, welcome back! To any newcomers, I would strongly advise reading the previous story to this one, which is entitled "Healing Hearts - The Beginning" and can be found on my profile. It will provide much needed back story for my characters, and explain quite a few questions that would otherwise go unanswered. I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter, and I'm looking forward to sharing the journey with you! Just a note: the Bilbo in my story will be portrayed as being very OOC when compared with the one from the Hobbit, but it was important to make him this way for the purposes of the tale later. I felt it necessary to mention this, and I hope people like Bilbo as I have decided to write him.