A/N: Here it is, the last installment of what has become a much bigger and longer story than I had imagined I would ever write in The Hobbit fandom. Thanks to the talkative muses, "Heart of the Mountain" begins here and follows directly after the events in "Never trust an Elf" and "Always trust an Elf". Follow the Elves and the Dwarves and find out what new adventures await them!

"Heart of the Mountain" is written from different perspectives, which means we will have more than just Bilbo's point of view to see things from. For example, in this first chapter, we are in Fili's PoV.


1

"I will find you," Fëanor promised one last time. He raised his hand in farewell, his eyes moving from his sons to Thorin. A small smile tugged the Elf's lips as he nodded and then spurred his mount into a run. Caranthir and Curufin and Maglor and Maedhros followed, chasing after their father and the two wizards already some way ahead.

Thorin would not give the signal to depart nor move until the Elves disappeared in a cloud of dust, galloping under the eaves of the forest and hurrying south. Even when the dust settled and the thundering of that cavalcade faded in the shimmering summer air, Thorin said nothing and Fili approached him hesitantly. He had not seen such a look in his uncle's eyes since he had parted from his sister and the handful of people in the Blue Mountains that Thorin held close to his heart. Thorin had beheld Fili's mother with the same kind of desperate intensity almost a lifetime ago... or so Fili felt. To see such emotion brimming under Thorin's carefully composed expression and to know an Elf had put it there still struck the young Dwarf as nothing short of a miracle. But there it was and nobody dared disturb Thorin, although the ponies swished their tails, snorted and paced about, more than ready to be gone.

"We should go, daylight is growing," Celegorm led his horse before Thorin, blocking his view south. "Believe me, my heart breaks to see them go as well, but waiting here won't mend it," the Elf said in a softer voice, riding closer to Thorin and wishing to pat the Dwarf's shoulder.

Thorin gave an irritated growl and tugged on the reins, his pony turning sharply away from Celegorm's chestnut mare. The Elf sighed and shrugged one shoulder when he met Fili's eyes. Fili smiled briefly and made a mental note to tell Celegorm that speaking of Elves and heartbreak to Thorin was not a very good idea.

"Lead the way," Thorin motioned Celegorm to ride to the front of the convoy. The demand itself was a matter of wonder but Celegorm had told them that the Old Forest Road was somewhat familiar to him. He had made the journey through Mirkwood and back some ten years before and when Thorin demanded to know what business the blond had in that part of the world, Celegorm smirked and said "Dorwinion wine, what else?"

Even though he claimed all Elves were shameless lushes, Thorin appointed Celegorm as their guide and inquired after the state of the old road. As they all stood at the edge of the forest, the road opened before them like a funnel, growing narrower as the eye traced it in a straight line. Trees of all kinds - large, gnarled, ominous trees - loomed on both sides of the overgrown track and even as he sat with the summer sun warming his face, Fili shuddered with apprehension. Over two hundred miles of that road, with the ill-will of Mirkwood closing in on them and the creatures Radagast had warned them against on the prowl, made for a very reluctant Dwarf. One look at the others and Fili could see they were not much better off.

But they all had to overcome their apprehension and take the first tentative steps on the next leg of their great journey. It was August the first, the beginning of a new month and as good a start as any. However, nobody could tell for sure how long the company would travel before emerging on the other side of the great forest. At best, a fortnight, taking into consideration the weight each pony bore on its back and the state they found the Men-i-Naugrim in. That estimation did not take into consideration the hidden perils before them and no doubt Mirkwood had a few nasty surprises lying in wait for the travelers.

Fili nudged his pony into a light trot, trying to catch up with Kili and his uncle at the head of the convoy. They had a number of eighteen ponies, fourteen of them carrying a rider and his heavy pack, while the other four bore no less weight in supplies. Celegorm and his brothers rode three of Beorn's horses, the rest of them having gone to their kinsmen and the two wizards.

For four days, both Elves and Dwarves and even little Bilbo had worked from dusk till dawn and well into the night, to get everything ready. It had continued to be a sad affair, but also an imperative to make the most of Beorn's belongings. And so, for days, they had all carved meat, boiled it, fried it, salted it, smoked it and tried to dry it as best as time allowed. Neither the Elves nor the Dwarves had turned up their noses at each other's recipes, working together with an ease that Fili found amazing and very, very welcome. By the eve of their last day in Beorn's household, the company's packs were filled with meats and cheeses and jams and honey pots and cakes and something resembling way bread that Fëanor and his sons had spent a lot of time baking.

The Elves took little with them, saying they would have opportunities to hunt on their way south, whereas in the forest, game would be scarce and dangerous to pursue, much less attempt to eat. For the same reasons, most of the flasks and bottles had been filled with water instead of wine or ale. Several streams crossed the Old Forest Road and others ran beneath the eaves of the wood not far from the road, but both wizards had strongly advised them to pick their water carefully when their mounts needed to drink and take as few chances as possible. But Fili was certain his friends had secretly taken at least one barrel of ale or wine, as Fili himself had cleverly hidden one of both among his belongings. No doubt, the stuffiness of the wood would require something to pick up their spirits from time to time.

Adjusting the straps of his heavy pack, the young Dwarf nudged his brother gently and together, they set foot inside Mirkwood for the first time in their lives.

...

Contrary to their expectations, Thorin's company journeyed along the Men-i-Naugrim with little disturbance. The first day and especially the night that followed were the most difficult, as they felt and heard the hostile woods all around them. They made a tight little camp right in the middle of the road and few of them slept even after a long day's ride. The trees seem to creak and shudder and made all manner of disquieting noises and Fili became convinced that they were somehow talking to each other. No amount of reasoning from Celegorm and the twins could convince him otherwise.

And then... there was the matter of other noises. Chitters and chatters and slithers and scuttles and creaks and groans and hoots and yowls and more besides lead Fili to believe that the darkness among those closed-in trees was alive with creatures he had no wish to see. On both sides of the road, even in daylight, the bushes rustled and the foliage crackled and above their heads, the low hanging branches sometimes swayed, although no wind stirred the stuffy air.

But whatever watched the company let them pass unmolested for days. And if the firelight sometimes flickered in many beady eyes hidden in the undergrowth, nothing came forth to test their vigilance and the sharpness of their weapons.

Sometimes, when restlessness grew and the ill-boding silence threatened to drown their spirits, the Elves sang softly, murmuring words in their own tongue and then, as though by some miracle, the forest withdrew. At other times, Thorin or Balin would tell the others tales about the ancient road. They would say it had crossed the forest since time out of mind, before the dawn of the Second Age even. The Longbeards, Durin's people, had built it as a travel and traffic route between their mansions in the Iron Hills and the Kingdom of Khazad-dum. In those days, the Dwarves had known wealth and power and glory such as had never been seen before or since, when mountains and forests and rivers yielded before their craft. They had built a mighty bridge over the Anduin to mark the halfway point between the eastern gates of Khazad-dum and the sacred Mount Gundabad. Over that bridge, the hosts of Gil-Galad and Elendil had marched to the last of the great battles that ended an age. They had been the Last Alliance of Elves and Men and Dwarves, with countless warriors pouring in from Khazad-dum to help defeat Sauron.

As he listened to his people's histories, Fili felt all-encompassing pride swell in him. He was no stranger to those tales; he had begged his elders to recount them and to give him books of lore, always dreaming he was one of the great heroes, one of the great kings of yore. But as he walked along the Men-i-Naugrim astride his pony, Fili realized he had become one of those heroes. He was part of something much bigger than himself, perhaps the last great stand of Durin's line. His eyes welled up with longing for the ancient glory of his people and the unquenchable desire to see it restored. For the first time since he had embarked on the journey, Fili truly understood his uncle and felt the weight of their shared legacy driving them forward without delay.

The dragon would be slain, Fili vowed to himself. Their home would be won back and brought to even greater beauty than before. Like a polished gem, it would emerge from the mire of that despicable worm and even with just twelve of his people, Thorin would see it done. Fili would see it done.

But his brother soon yanked him out of glorious dreams, drawing closer to him and pointing out giant webs and strands of spider silk hanging between branches and across the road. Where their advance had been blocked only by undergrowth before, as they walked beneath the roots of mountains in the north, it had become barred with cobwebs of unimaginable size. As the Elves and Dwalin and Bifur carved a path for the company, Kili squeezed his brother's arm, looking at him with disbelief in his round eyes.

"We've heard tales of giant spiders, but I never thought they'd be this huge! Can you imagine the size of these things?" Kili whispered.

"No. But I imagine we'll see for ourselves soon enough," Fili said, wishing he'd been able to come up with something more comforting, especially since Bilbo had instinctively drawn closer to him as well.

"This is beginning to remind me of Nan Dungortheb, the Valley of Dreadful Death in Beleriand," Amras told them as he rode back, picking cobwebs off himself. "Only... those spiders were much bigger. Everything was much bigger in the First Age," he said with a crooked grin when he saw the many pale faces of his companions.

But fortune favored Thorin's company and the spiders of Mirkwood did them little harm. In the deeper shadows cast by the mountains, they watched with many eyes, hungry and impatient, but wary of such a large group of travelers and especially of the Elvish blades. The only loss the company endured on their account was an unfortunate pony that got snatched in the dead of night with hardly a whisper in the trees. After that, Thorin divided the group in shifts and one slept while the other stood guard, keeping their animals behind a fence of blades.

The only other incident Fili would always remember - and both laugh and shudder about - involved snakes. He woke earliest one morning and began to rouse the others around him when he caught sight of something that had him nearly tripping on his own feet. Amrod lay on his back at the edge of their camp, his eyes open but vacant, lips parted although no breath seemed to pass through them and, to Fili's horror; he had a dark-colored snake coiled around his neck. On Amrod's chest, there were more snakes, smaller and huddled together.

To Fili, the Elf looked fairly dead and he panicked, shouting for his brothers. But, to the young Dwarf's relief, Amrod stirred at the sound of his voice. Awareness seeped back into his eyes and he raised himself slowly, setting the smaller snakes down on the grass. When the Elf's voice came out in a raspy whisper, the larger snake began to uncoil itself. Celegorm gave Amrod a drink and set the snake free himself, smiling proudly at his little brother.

"It didn't mean any harm," Amrod coughed to clear his throat. "It just wanted some warmth for itself and its babies in this dark place. Although I have to say, that was the tightest collar I've ever worn," he rubbed his neck gingerly.

"Oh, come off it, that snake was too small to choke you," Celegorm patted his brother's shoulder and both Elves laughed at their gaping companions.

"Weird, creepy Elves!" Kili muttered. "Is there anything normal about you?"

The brothers merely laughed some more and brushed the whole incident off like nothing out of the ordinary, but Fili was sure he would never be able to get those images out of his mind.

However, such things did not count as true peril and by the time the thirteenth day on the Old Forest Road dawned, Dwalin chuckled in his beard, scoffing at the wizards' warning. Mirkwood had been unpleasant, but nowhere near as impassable as Radagast had made it out to be. At last, the trees on either side of the road began to thin and they could hear a river flowing in the distance. There, the Men-i-Naugrim crossed a strip of marshland, at the confluence between the river Running and a stream that tumbled down from the Emyn-nu-fuin. They had made it to the eastern borders of Mirkwood in good health and good time and Thorin was pleased.


A/N: For the sake of no longer using those confusing Quenya names for the Fëanorians, I have decided to refer to them by their Sindarin names, even when we are in the perspective of those (like Fili), who do not know the Elves by those names... yet.