Hey everyone! I've wanted to write about the river incident for ages. You know how in the book Fíli and Kíli almost drown trying to save a pony, shortly before the scene with the trolls? It was changed in the movie, obviously, and on the one hand I'm glad (I hate to see horses suffering) but on the other hand it would have been a chance for some character development and Durin feels. So yeah… this is my version. It was supposed to be shorter but then Thorin had something to say, and Dwalin decided he'd make an appearance, and in the end it was too long for a one-shot so you'll get another chapter this weekend. I also decided to give the dwarves one peaceful night between the river accident and the trolls, so here my story deviates from the book.
Story title based on Frank Sinatra's "Moon River". (But no, this is most certainly NOT a slash-fic.)
Anyway, enjoy, reviews are very much appreciated, and Gisela, I hope this doesn't make you afraid of future kayak tours. ;)
Waiting round the river bend
There's such a lot of world to see
We're after the same rainbow's end
Waiting round the bend
("Moon River", Frank Sinatra)
1. White water rapids
If this is an omen for the rest of our journey, then we are all doomed, Kíli thought gloomily as he pulled his hood over his head. The rain had started as a soft drizzle, but within minutes had turned into a downpour. The road became slippery and his heavy dwarven boots fought against the mud with every step he took. Thorin had ordered to get off the ponies to make it easier for them, since they had to carry the heavy baggage as well as the dwarves with their gear, and so the dwarves walked with their mounts in rein. Thistle, Kíli's chestnut mare, looked just as fed up as Kíli felt.
The river next to the path, usually shallow and calm, grew wilder and deeper as they walked beside it. The current had intensified and now it resembled a horizontal waterfall, Kíli thought to himself. A tree log passed by in the water with enormous speed, before it crashed against a rock and shattered into pieces that immediately got lost in the water.
"Nothin' like a day in the open, eh?" Bofur's voice could be heard from somewhere at the back of the convoy. Kíli grinned wryly as he tried to see through the curtain of raindrops.
"Always the optimist, isn't he?" Fíli said. He was walking on Kíli's left, pulling his pony's reins as the sturdy mare trotted less than willingly behind him. Despite his hood Fíli's face was wet from the rain, and his moustache was dripping and plastered to his chin. It was a sorry sight to behold, and Kíli couldn't help but chuckle as he looked at his brother.
"If Ma could see you now," he mused. "Your beard hasn't looked that awful ever since you fell into the river trying to impress that lassie with your jumping skills."
"At least I have a beard," Fíli replied promptly and stuck his tongue out at the younger in a manner certainly not fitting for a grown-up and future king.
Kíli wanted to say something smart in return, but in that moment Thorin's voice could be heard through the rain.
"Stop!" he called. "We should rest here for the night. The ponies are weary, there's no use forcing them to go on."
"Forget the horses, I'm so starved I could eat one of them and still be hungry," someone muttered behind the two brothers. Instinctively, Kíli grabbed Thistle's reins a bit tighter. Of course Dwalin would never make true of his words, but still…
"Oh, for Durin's sake, brother, it could be worse!" Balin retorted indignantly as he hurried past the young dwarves. He tied his pony to a tree and immediately engaged Thorin in a conversation. Dwalin followed, grumbling into his beard, and positioned himself next to them with his arms crossed before his large chest.
Fíli shook his head lightly and led his pony to another tree.
"Stay here, and behave," he told her and the mare snorted as if she wanted to tell him that she didn't need that sort of advice from such a young dwarf. Fíli smiled and patted her neck before taking the water filled leather skin from the saddle bag. Kíli tied Thistle next to his brother's pony and slumped down with his back against the nearest tree, closing his eyes for a moment. The ground was almost dry, shielded from the rain by the foliage above and also by its slight slope that made water flow towards the river nearby.
"Something to drink, brother?"
Fíli had sat down next to him. Kíli took the water gratefully. As he drank, he watched his brother wring his hair and re-braid his moustache. He rolled his eyes, but suppressed the urge to comment on it. He loved his brother with all his heart, but he could be a bit vain sometimes, though he usually tried to hide it. Absent-mindedly Kíli ran his hand down his own chin.
"Maybe that beard'll have grown by the time we reach Erebor," Fíli jested, then moaned as Kíli punched him lightly in the chest. "Ouch!"
"Shut it, Fee."
For a moment the brothers sat in silence, listening to the heavy fall of rain and the bickering of Dori and Nori. In another corner Óin and Glóin tried to light a fire, but the heavy rain made it seemingly impossible. Secretly, Kíli doubted that the rain would stop anytime soon. It had increased – if that was even possible – ever since he'd first thought that the day couldn't get worse. He could barely hear the voices of the others, and in addition to the rain a storm had now come up and rustled the branches above them.
For the first time he wondered whether it was true that dwarves were made of stone. He had the distinct notion that the bulky branch that shook dangerously above him might cleave his head clean in two if it hit him now.
"I think we should –"
But he never got to finish the sentence. A loud crack, followed by a flash of white light, made them jump to their feet. The air suddenly smelled like burnt wood, and the ponies whinnied in fear.
"Damnit, no!" someone shouted, Kíli couldn't tell who it was. It didn't matter though, for in that moment his eyes were caught by the swift movement to his right as his pony reared. The reins gave way; the pony bolted, turned on its hind legs, and ran.
"Thistle, no!" Kíli yelled, running after the mare, knowing Fíli was closely behind. "Thistle!"
In that instant the slippery, muddy ground proved fatal. Before Kíli could reach her, the pony slipped and, with a loud splash, fell into the river.
Kíli cursed under his breath as he made a beeline for the river bank.
"Kíli, no!"
Faintly he heard Thorin and Fíli shouting in unison, before the cold water embraced him and drove the air from his lungs.
-.-.-.-.-
Dwalin let out a string of words that would make an orc blush as he watched the youngest Durin leap into the wild river. Of course it was a typical Kíli-thing to do, acting without thinking first. The brunette did surprisingly well, though. The river wasn't too deep; he could still stand, although the strong current made it tough to keep his footing as he pulled on the mare's reins. The pony fought against the water, but she was out of her mind with fright which made her forget all animal instinct.
"Kíli!" Thorin roared as the pony reared and stumbled in the water, her hooves missing Kíli's head by mere inches. "Kíli, leave her!"
They all stood at the bank, holding out their hands to the young dwarf, but Dwalin knew how stubborn Kíli could be. It was his pony, after all, and he cared for her more than he would ever admit.
Fíli launched forward, only to be pulled back by his uncle.
"Oh no, Fíli, you won't! Stay here!" he yelled, desperately watching his youngest nephew while keeping a firm grip on the blonde's forearm. "Kíli, get out!"
"But –"
"You stay here!"
The pony whinnied, and Dwalin's eyes widened in horror as he noticed the thick tree branch approaching the dwarf and the mare. Thorin must have seen it, too, for he opened his mouth for a warning that was immediately drowned out by the sound of rain and rushing water.
Fíli seized that distraction to wriggle free from his uncle's grasp. Before Dwalin could so much as shout the young dwarf jumped into the river, fighting against the current to get to his brother and the pony. He was a good swimmer, for a dwarf at least, but Dwalin was well aware that this didn't say much. Dwarves weren't too fond of water and only practised swimming for emergencies.
Well, this was an emergency if he'd ever seen one.
"Fíli! Kíli!" Thorin yelled, beside himself with rage and fear, the latter only recognisable to Dwalin himself. He grabbed him by the shoulder and held him back as his friend made to follow his kin. Durin knew he wouldn't lose all three Durins to this forsaken river.
"They'll be fine!"
Fíli had reached his brother, and together they tried to make the pony move. Fíli pulled at the halter while Kíli hit the pony's rear again and again, shouting at her to budge, but the poor animal was crazy with fear. Even through the rain Dwalin could see the white in its eyes as it screeched, a sound he had never heard a pony make and that sent shivers down his spine.
The branch crashed against the pony's side. On a normal day it shouldn't have been enough to pull the beast off its feet, but in the wild water it was the final blow to make the mare lose her footing as she reared one last time. She fell to the side, thrashing out as she tried to regain her balance; the water splashed high and Dwalin couldn't see the two dwarves anymore.
Dwalin cursed as he tried desperately to make out the young heirs of Durin in the foam. From the corner of his eye he saw Dori, Glóin and Bombur approach, carrying a long, almost straight branch.
"Kíli!" Thorin screamed with a hoarse voice. He stood so close to the edge of the riverbank that Dwalin feared he might fall – or jump in himself. Part of him wanted to hold him back, the other part was already analysing the river.
"There!" Ori suddenly exclaimed. "He's there!"
And indeed in that moment a raven-haired head popped out of the water, spitting water and gasping for air. The water had pulled the pony down, and even as Kíli brought himself out of the vicinity of its hooves the current became too strong.
"Kíli, hold on!" Dori cried out. The three dwarves held the branch out to him. Two more of the company came to their aid. But Kíli seemed frozen in place as he held on tightly to a jagged piece of rock, his eyes fixed on the pony that, losing the fight against the current, was pulled down the stream. It took Dwalin a second to register what terrified Kíli so.
A flash of blonde hair, barely visible against the white foam of the water.
"Fíli! Fíli, no!"
"Hold on, Kíli!"
"Give us a hand!"
Many voices erupted simultaneously, but Dwalin paid them no attention. He ran parallel to the river, frantically searching the water for the light spot again. He didn't waste precious breath on screaming. All of a sudden the pony seemed to get stuck. A group of rocks, some small, some rather large boulders, were blocking the way partly. The mare struggled, flaring her nostrils and rolling her eyes, but it was useless.
The current was too strong, and with one last fearful shriek the pony vanished in the water and was soon out of sight.
Dwalin's cry died on his lips.
Stuck between two rocks was the frighteningly limp form of the eldest prince.
"Mahal, no!" Thorin cried as he rushed past Dwalin, nearly knocking him over. The seasoned warrior closed his eyes for a split second. The last time he had heard such fear and despair in his friend's voice had been Azanulbizar, when Thorin had spotted his brother amongst the dead.
"Durin forbid…" he mumbled as he hastened to Thorin's side. The company leader was already kneeling on the nearest rock that was close to the bank, carefully crawling forwards until he could reach his nephew. Somewhere in the distance Dwalin could hear Kíli shouting his brother's name almost hysterically. He turned his head courtly and saw that the other dwarves had gotten him to grab the branch at least. Now they slowly pulled him out.
Dwalin focused on the exiled king and his heir.
"Need a hand?" he asked, but Thorin only shook his head as he was finally close enough to lay a hand on Fíli's shoulder, then a finger to his neck.
"He's alive," he whispered first, his words almost inaudible against the sound of rushing water. Then he repeated, louder, "He's alive!"
Relief flooded Dwalin as he watched Thorin pulling Fíli away. He stepped as close to the riverbank as possible and immediately supported Thorin when he was in reach. Together they hauled Fíli onto dry land. The young dwarf was deathly pale and sported a gash on his forehead that was bleeding lightly. Gently, Thorin slapped his cheek.
"Come on, lad, wake up. Open your eyes."
"Fee!" Kíli crashed to his knees beside the still form of his brother, staring at him with wide eyes and laying a shaky hand onto his chest. "He's alive," he stammered, "oh Mahal be blessed, he's alive."
"Aye, he is," Thorin said, and Dwalin alone knew how hard he was fighting to keep his composure before his youngest nephew.
"Let me see to him," Óin, the healer, said, pushing Nori and Ori aside.
"Will he be alright?" Kíli asked fearfully. In that moment Fíli curled in on himself and spat enough water to fill the Anduin.
-.-.-.-.-
Fíli didn't know what exactly had happened, but one moment he'd been sleeping in blissful oblivion, and the next moment his stomach felt as if it was trying to claw its way out of his skin. He doubled over, pressing his fingers into the cold earth, and retched and retched. It felt as if there was water everywhere, he couldn't breathe as it came out of both his nose and mouth, and the cramp in his stomach brought tears to his eyes as he tried desperately to draw breath.
A huge hand was suddenly on his back, rubbing in circles that miraculously eased the spasm.
"That's it, lad, you'll be fine."
Once more his stomach protested, but there was nothing left but bile. One more time he retched, then he rolled onto his back again, taking shuddering breaths, completely spent. His whole body was shivering; the slight movement made his ribs ache, and his head was throbbing.
"Kee?"
His voice had never sounded so raspy before. He squinted carefully and let the world resolve itself to clear forms before he dared to look at Kíli first, then to the side where the remains of his scarce breakfast were already being washed away by the rain.
"Well, that was unpleasant," he croaked.
"Gross," Dwalin commented as he followed Fíli's gaze. He patted the blonde's shoulder. "Good to see you alive, laddie."
"How do you feel, Fíli?" Thorin asked, while Kíli was squatting next to him. Fíli sought his brother's gaze and smiled when he recognised the fear in the brown orbs. He knew that feeling too well. He had lost count on how often he'd found his little brother in danger.
Thorin and Óin were both looking at him quizzically, and Fíli furrowed his brows to assess his physical state.
"My head hurts," he admitted, and as he tried to sit up he added, "and my ribs. And I'm c-c-cold."
Now that the first shock had worn off, he was acutely aware of his shivering.
"Oh dear, sorry lads, how could I forget?" Óin shook his head. "Quickly, Bofur, Nori, get the bags and get them some dry clothes. Kíli, out of these clothes, now. Fíli, you too."
The rain had eased to a soft drizzle again. The brothers exchanged a fleeting glance. Fíli realised that Kíli wouldn't leave his side unless he assured him he was alright, so he nodded at him and carefully propped himself up on his elbows. His ribs made themselves known immediately. He gritted his teeth, but they clattered as the cold seeped deeper into his bones.
"Wait, let me help."
He suppressed the urge to groan when his body protested against the movement that came with getting him out of the soaked clothes. When he bent forward to undo his belt the world started to spin again for a moment and his stomach fluttered in the most unpleasant way.
"Not goin' ter throw up again, laddie, eh?" Bofur asked, pulling at his trouser legs. Immediately Kíli, who was leaning on Nori for support as he took off his boots, looked alarmed. His worried gaze met Fíli's.
"Nah, I'm fine," Fíli replied nonchalantly. "I just much rather watch a bonnie lass undress me than see your ugly face."
Bofur chortled and threw the muddy boot at him, which Fíli dodged less gracefully than he normally would. Kíli rolled his eyes, but grinned, and even the corners of Dwalin's mouth twitched.
"Hurry up," Thorin said gruffly, "before you get a cold in this forsaken weather."
There was something unnerving in his voice, yet Fíli couldn't quite determine what it was. He quickly put on a dry pair of pants, before at last he took off his undershirt. Bofur hissed and, before Fíli could hold him back, waved for Óin.
"It's just a bruise," Fíli tried to protest.
"I can see the shape of that beast's hoof as if it was a bloody tattoo," Dwalin grumbled. "Kicked you hard, that one."
Fíli winced when Óin prodded his ribs. He remembered the moment Thistle's hoof had connected with his torso, driving the wind right out of his lungs, and it was certainly an unpleasant memory. Everything between that incident and his throwing up a barrelful of river water was a mystery. He wasn't too keen to find out, though.
"Cracked a rib or two," Óin said. "It'll be bruised and hurt for a while, so take it easy."
Fíli nodded solemnly. He winked at Kíli and expected him to grin, for they both knew that none of them would take it easy once they travelled on. Kíli didn't smile, though. His lips were pressed to a thin line, his hands curled to fists, and Fíli understood that the recent events had taken their toll on his younger brother. He had cared for the lost pony and surely the loss had hit him harder than a physical blow ever could.
He quickly gathered a dry shirt and tunic and put them on. When he tried to stand up, Kíli suddenly appeared at his side and reached out his hand. Fíli suppressed a groan when Kíli pulled him up. His head spun for a few seconds, but to his utter relief his stomach remained calm. He stood on unsteady legs, leaning on Kíli for a moment.
"Thanks," he muttered, just when Thorin approached the two dwarves. He looked angry, and Fíli almost ducked. There was something about his uncle that sometimes had this effect on him. Ever since he'd been a dwarfling his resolute uncle had had the uncanny ability to intimidate him. He was an adult now and Thorin surely treated him like one most of the time, but that didn't mean he ever went easy on him. Fíli usually didn't mind. He was the future king and he knew what was expected of him. But now Thorin looked at him with an expression on his face that Fíli couldn't quite determine.
"You defied a direct order," he said. It would have been easier if he had shouted.
Fíli sensed that his brother wanted to say something, but he quickly squeezed his arm and shot him a warning look. He was aware of Dwalin and Balin standing close to them, while the rest of the group were extremely busy taking care of the ponies.
"You defied my order and almost got yourself killed," Thorin repeated. "Next time that happens, I send you straight back to your mother."
Fíli stared at him in disbelief. He felt his left hand – that wasn't curled around Kíli's forearm – starting to shake, and this time it wasn't due to the cold.
"I tried to save my brother," he replied, fighting to keep his emotions under control. "I would always do it again."
"It wasn't your task to do that! You should have let me or Dwalin handle the situation."
It wasn't fair. Fíli inhaled deeply, trying to reason with himself. Thorin was right, he had defied his order. His king's order.
He nodded and kept his gaze set on the ground. Beside him Kíli stiffened and the older dwarf knew that he wanted to speak on his behalf. He stepped onto Kíli's foot and shook his head lightly. This was not the time.
Fíli picked his wet clothes off the ground and hung them up on some lower branches. Only then he realised that Thistle had been the pony carrying most of their provisions. He walked towards his own pony and found a tiny rest of bread in one of his saddle bags. With a sigh he returned to Kíli and wordlessly handed him one half of the meagre meal. It was going to be a long night.