Tobi is a good boy

I do not own Lord of the Rings

Thanks to Veilfire Runes for prompt.

ONE: OBSTINATE CREATURES AND STUBBORN DWARVES

The donkey would not move.

A young dwarf tugged at the weathered rope with large hands that betrayed their small stature. The length of the rope was tethered to the obstinate donkey, who would not be forced to move despite the dwarf's best efforts. The donkey was shouldered with carefully wrapped parcels and a travelling pack. Like most of their race, the dwarf was the height of a child just before they reached manhood, broad shouldered and heavily muscled arms.

There seemed to be no distinction within dwarves between those who were male and those who were female, though the females seemed to be rarer than the males according to the stories that he had read in what seemed a lifetime ago. Regardless, both genders were known to be fierce fighters and proficient with both axe and mace.

He would have to be careful if he was the succeed.

A well-made hunting axe was strung off the dwarf's intricate woven leather belt. Although it was a hunting axe, it would still provide some protection outside the more heavily guarded cities, towns, and villages. One, even a trained warrior like himself, had to be careful in the wild places, where foul creatures of darkness roamed unchecked and bandits or thieves preyed on the unsuspecting or unwary traveller. The world was slowly darkening as each year passed, a world with little hope and a life that was equally harsh.

Although, he could not name himself a thief or bandit, just someone that simply took advantages where they could be taken. It was what was necessary to survive.

Strider lowered himself further onto on the ground, avoiding the thick, spiny branches of gorse until he reached the forested edge which overlooked both donkey and dwarf. His well-worn travel cloak and skills taught to him many years ago in the art of disguise and concealment allowed him to completely disappear within the dense undergrowth. He shook the thought of his past out from his mind, returning his focus back towards the dwarf and donkey.

Not that it would have mattered much, for the dwarf was so engrossed with attempting to drag the donkey down the steep path that clung to the hillside. On the other side of the path was a deep ravine that led, eventually, to the valley floor. The ravine was covered by plants that somehow, managed to cling to the side. A river traced its slow path through the valley and disappeared beyond Strider's sight. Below Strider, the donkey flared and gritted its yellowing teeth, digging its hooves into the steep gravel path.

"Come on," the dwarf muttered loudly, wiping the thin sheen of sweat that had gathered off their brow and onto their sleeve. Like Strider, the dwarf wore simple leather armour that covered a blue tunic and soft brown leggings tucked into boots. The leather shoulder pauldron declared them to belong to the so called 'Lonely Mountain,' the heart of the dwarven kingdom. His simple clothing declared him to be a tradesman, or perhaps a smith, not a princeling.

But that was not what interested Strider so much in this one dwarf. Despite their short, reddish beard that clung to their chin, he could tell that this dwarf was not yet a true warrior, for they had not yet earned the testament of their prowess by way of a warrior's braid. Strider had one that curved around his ear, braided long ago by his mother after his first skirmish with a roaming orc band. It had, of course, grown since then, but he could still remember his mother's soft touch as she twisted his hair into a braid fit for a warrior. So not only did his target have the transport Strider desired, but it would not require as much skill to steal the donkey and continue, unheeded down the hillside path.

Above, the afternoon sun shone hotly down, directly onto his back.

Strider did not move, despite the heat, the perspiration running slowly down his neck. Even the soft breeze did not reach the undergrowth, the rustle of the leaves would cover his movements.

This hunt required patience.

Eventually, the dwarf gave up on their futile attempts to physically drag the donkey further down the hillside. They sighed in clear frustration, kneeling in front of the donkey, as if in prayer.

Strider recognised his chance, knocking an arrow expertly to the small, compact bow that he had used since leaving his childhood home. The bow had served him well, but had worn with the use that he had put it through in recent months. He had used the feathers that he had found upon the floor of the forest to string his arrows, lest he anger the wizard who was known to bring his wrath down on those who harmed any creature within. To this effect, he had only hunted creatures who were close to death or ones that had been caught in the cruel metal traps left by hunters.

Below, the donkey turned its head towards him, a white star upon the creature's dark forehead, as if to accuse Strider.

"I'm talking to a donkey." The dwarf lent their head against the donkey's flank, "Gimli, son of Gloin, talking to a donkey."

With practised ease, Strider let the arrow fly. It sung in the air, landing a few centimetres shy of the donkey's hoof and the kneeling, prone dwarf.

Like he expected, the appearance of an arrow caused the donkey to panic, pushing the dwarf out of its path as Gimli tried to stand, reaching for the axe on his belt. However, the dwarf would prove to slow for Strider's sudden attack.

Strider leapt down, timing the moment so that he landed on the terrified donkey's back, gripping the creature tightly with his powerful muscles. The carefully packaged parcels and travel pack fell off the donkey as it ran wildly.

He turned, waving a hand to the red-faced dwarf. "Thanks for the ride!" He called aloud, allowing the feeling of exhilaration to fill his veins once more. A wide grin formed on his face, as the wind whipped in his hair.

Behind Strider, the dwarf's face grew a deep shade of red, matching the fiery colour of his hair. He shouted dwarfish curse that if Strider knew the meaning it would be sure to turn his own mother blue in her grave. With a heft of the dwarf's muscled arms, Gimli threw the axe towards both man and beast.

Strider watched the axe in horrified fascination as it arched in the blue sky and landed on the remnant of the dangling rope trailing behind the donkey. With a shuddering, painful jolt, the creature came to an eventual halt as the rope tightened suddenly on its thick neck, it nostrils flaring in anger as it attempted to pull away from the grip of the axe. The dwarf's aim had been true, and rather impressively accurate. The momentum, however, had caused Strider to fly forwards and sprawl undignifiedly upon the stony path.

The crunch of gravel signalled the slow but steady approach of the dwarf.

"You!" Strider heard the low growl within the dwarf's deep voice. "Thief!"

Despite the ache within his muscles from the sudden jolt, Strider forced himself to roll upwards. His body protested the movement, but his will took over, allowing him to move. The handle of the axe gleamed in the bright sunlight. The runes etched onto the handle seemed to glow in the light. Planted beside it was the dwarf, Gimli, his blue eyes directed in obvious fury towards Strider.

The dwarf's short legs would never be able to make this distance quick enough.

A few metres away was the donkey, its eyes rolling, digging its hooves into the path to free itself, only to be choked on the rope still tethered around its neck.

Quickly, Strider rolled forwards until he could almost touch the donkey and the rope around its neck. He had to avoid the missiles of pebbles flying from the donkey's hooves to reach the rope and donkey.

The donkey turned its head, locking its dark eyes with Strider momentarily. Strider grinned slowly, moving the rope one inch at a time with nimble finger. The creature did not look pleased in the least, staring down with its unfathomable eyes.

The dwarf was closing in.

He had to act quickly.

At that precise moment, the donkey snapped at Strider's unprotected wrist, wrapping its jaw around.

"Let go!" He groaned towards the donkey, "Don't you see I'm trying to help!"

Behind him, the dwarf laughed shortly. It echoed within the quiet landscape, down the hill into the ravine and the valley below. It seemed too quiet, but Strider's mind did not register it as his attention was drawn to the furious, approaching dwarf.

"She's not too fond of others, thief."

Turning his head, Strider glared openly. He could not free himself from the donkey's jaws, so he was trapped at the dwarf's mercy. At this level, they were roughly of the same height, so their eyes met in a furious clash of anger.

"So, why is a man trying to steal my donkey?"

"I was not stealing your donkey…. just borrowing," He protested rather weakly, his concise attempting to make him feel guilty for all his wrongdoings.

Get a hold of yourself!

"Silence!" Demanded the dwarf, breaking Strider's chain of thought, "I will not listen to someone who is clearly both a thief and a liar. I will take you to Dale and there you will see what judgement lies for you."

Strider stared at the dwarf, who intent and truth of his words were clear from his steadfast eyes. He was about to speak when a rumble came from above.

A war horn sounded in the distance.

The sound of it rumbled throughout the land, sending both bird and beast flying. Above, ravens flew, squealing and squawking warnings to any animal left below. The forest trembled at the sound.

He knew that war horn. It had sounded across his childhood and through his manhood.

There was no forgetting that war horn, or the horrors that it signalled: destruction to all life. Strider could almost taste the fire and smell the stink of orc flesh.

Gimli's eyes scanned the surroundings, a gleam lighting within them. He had heard the ravens' warnings, but he stood his ground upon the hillside path.

"Gimli!" Strider panted, his wrist still caught, "Free me! You cannot fight that alone!"

Gimli replied with a shout above the din of noise: "If you think I could trust you, thief, I will not!"

"That's madness!"

The war horn sounded once more, causing the path to shake beneath their feet. The forest rumbled ominously and a cascade of pebbles fell onto the path. There was a sharp crack which made a jagged line within the rock, racing towards man, beast, and dwarf. The rock shifted and cracked before the trio could react, casting them into the depths of the ravine and towards certain death.