It was pitch black.
There was nothing to see...
Nothing to feel...
Nothing to hear...
Not even his own voice...
He could not even feel his own body, though he was cold. Very cold, as if he plunged into a lake during winter. Thorin could not gather his thoughts. They raced and clattered, scrambling to make sense. Thoughts of home, of names, sounds, phrases, metals, of sister, and pain. More scattered thoughts grew and entangled the web of Thorin's mind.
Unknowingly screaming, whispering, shouting, and quivering. His body let out an array of sounds for each perplexed thought. The young prince could do nothing to settle himself. He was lost in the dark. Not even knowing his own name, his own race.
But there, slowly, gently, a small light bloomed. Darkened petals spreading as streams of light seeped through the gaps. It was Thorin's hand that first emerged from endless black space. He could feel them again, they warmed and welcomed the brilliant light growing brighter. The petals burst and the light enveloped him. His whole body regaining its heat and strength.
The web of illogical thoughts froze and shattered, leaving a single strand to hang from nothing. Though there was no floor, but he felt he was kneeling, holding himself up by his regained arms. He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving the glimmering white light infront of him. It had a slight hint of blue, a most welcoming brilliance his eyes had ever seen.
There it was again. That beautiful figure standing before the young dwarf prince. It's radiant light filled his body with hope and strength. Thorin pushed himself up to his feet, standing proudly before his beloved deity.
"Aulë..." Thorin gently let the words slip through his peaceful expression. So calm and relaxed, as though he had never known battle or pain. As if he had spent his entire life in the heavens, surrounded by warm figures and the delicate sounds of stringed instruments. The light of his deity was so welcoming, he felt himself being drawn into it.
Thorin did not care to fight against the tug at his body, nor even think of considering it. One foot shifting infront of the other as Thorin walked into the lights embrace. There was no real physical touch from his deity as he leaned into it. More like a thick fog wrapping around him. Slowly he breathed in and closed his eyes, basking in the gentle touch.
Something hit him. It hit his lungs, not an outward blow. It was as though his body had strangled himself from inside. Thorin gasped and gagged finding no air to breath. He fell to his knees, the light fading completely and the darkness returning. His body burned and ached. A piercing feeling in his ribs. He could not breath...
...Could not breath...
"DWALIN!"
A hard pound to the princes back brought him from his slumber. Thorin jolted upright and gripped his chest. He coughed harshly as a burning liquid fizzed and popped in his lungs. Thorin pounded his chest thoroughly, feeling another hand smack his back. He spat out the liquid and eased, still slightly coughing. Finally air returned to him.
Thorin glanced behind him, his eyes refocusing from the lack of breath. There were two dwarves in his room. One kneeling on the bed behind him and the other chuckling near the edge, holding a wooden mug.
"Ye not a doctor! Don't be fillin' me patients with yer fairy tale remedies!"
The old dwarf behind him hollered as he climbed out of the bed toward the other.
"Aye! but he's awake now! Fairy tale indeed I say! Ha Ha Ha!"
It was Dwalin he finally recognized. His headache growing with every bellowed laugh the dwarf let loose. The other dwarf was a familiar face. Master Oin, the doctor of Erebor, had seen many days and heard more or less of them. A large squared horn protruded from his ear, helping his hearing only slightly. His grey beard was braided into curved horns.
Thorin's hand found his forehead quick as he groaned through the throbbing pound growing in his mind. Dwalin proudly stomped over to his prince, holding out a mug. Thorin glanced at its contents and his eyes furrowed, raising his attention back at the brute's smug face.
"You drown me in my own sleep!? What madness has taken you!?"
Thorin regretted his shouting when a thick pinch and stab irked his insides. His hand returned to grasping that pained spot, in hopes of quelling it. Oin ran over, and thrust his body into the brute, forcing him to step back. Dwalin grunted as he gave the doctor space.
"Aye ye broke a rib young master. Ye shouldn't move right now. Ye got other stitches, mind you. Don't be goin' rippin' those out as well!" It sounded more like he blamed Thorin for the startled movement that forced him to wake.
"Watch yer tongue old one." Thorin hissed as Oin half gently guided his body back to the bed. Oin scoffed at his patient.
"Ye ain't goin nowhere and I'll see to it with yer father young master!"
Oin's was voice pitched with a smug victory in Thorin's ear. Thorin glared back but stayed silent. Knowing his father and grandfather would be disappointed with his failure. The prince sighed heavily as he recalled the events of his failed mission.
It was not his first failure, but he had declared never to make another after the first time. It was when he just became old enough to join a hunt. Not for animals, no, this was a hunt for orcs. Often King Thror sent his dwarves out at night to protect their borders from stray packs.
It was Thorin's first time dealing with orcs. He had only seen drawings of the creatures that plagued Middle Earth. His grandfather had kept orcs from nearing the great kingdom quite successfully. It was Thorin's time to return the favor of protection for all those long years. It was his first time without his two guards that night. They had been assigned to other troops, spreading around their border.
The dwarves he traveled with were old and experienced. A few young ones like him in the mix, but nevertheless they were all fighters. The elder dwarves constantly joked and told the young ones not to die tonight or else they would not see any gold in the afterlife.
Dwarves were always a cheerful bunch, even when heading off to battle. The laughed and sang, though it may not have been the best of strategies when sneaking up on Orcs.
They were quickly attacked by a group with only a few wargs in their company.
The dwarves roared as their weapons raged through the air. Thorin was too eager to plunge his weapon into an orc. He charged carelessly, swinging his axe high, leaving a huge opening for the group of orcs to attack. Thorin's body flew threw the air, a heavy weight pounded him aside. There was a heavy yell that overlapped his grunt when he collided against a hard tree.
Thorin quickly stood back to his feet and ran back over. He ran as his eyes gaped as one of the elder dwarves swung his mighty axe single handed. One arm...The other lost...
Still his willpower to protect the heir of Erebor kept him strong. Thorin charged to his side and lunged again at the oncoming enemies.
"HOLD STEADY THORIN!"
The elder hollered at the foolhardy youth. Thorin did not listen and continued to clash his blade against many foes. One orc swung a giant mace to the prince. Thorin held his blade to block the blow but it was too strong. The Orc swung again, swiping his mace towards Thorin's side. Thorin blocked it, but the angle had forced his grip to loosen. The mace carried the blade out of his hands, hurling it away.
It whipped through the air and pierced a creature that cried out silently. The blade firmly slicing between lung and heart. Thorin could not breath, the sight was too much to bear. His kin, one of the young dwarves as old as he, lay dead upon his blade.
The young prince froze in his spot, unable to move. Orcs lunged for his head. Thorin did not take notice, he could not bare any thoughts outside of the sorrow and horror infront of him. The other dwarves ran to his aid, cutting down the damned creatures with great force over their fallen companion.
A pair of hands grabbed the prince's shoulders and hurled him behind a bush. Thorin barely reacted, his eyes were blank as he laid on the grass facing the sky. The sounds of battle did not reach him. Only that sound that claimed his kin's life plagued his ear over and over.
His first battle, and his first wretched mistake. King Thror and his son Thrain did nothing to punish the careless prince. The prince had been doing it for them. He buried himself far within the mines, thrusting his pickaxe deep into the stone. Constantly howling at his memory. Thorin carried on for hours till he collapsed, never eating, nor drinking. Thrain sent Dwalin and Balin to keep watch and keep him alive. They unblocked the heavy boulders their prince had stacked and made their way to the weeping prince, fast asleep.
Each day they brought the prince back to his room and forced him to drink and eat. Soon after Thorin would sneak back and bury himself deeper each time. Hoping they would give up one day. He cursed his soul for killing his kin. It was not the orcs who slain the youth. It was him... and him alone...
Thorin carried his guilt and pushed himself to become a great dwarf like his father and grand father. He would never let another dwarf die...especially from his own carelessness.
What happened this time... He pondered over and over. They had always been successful when dealing with large packs before. He cursed and gripped his sheets tightly.
Oin had long left, but Dwalin remained, staring out the window to the afternoon sun. He could hear his prince struggle over the night's battle. He grunted to himself, also feeling the sting of defeat. They had barely pushed the orcs back, fleeing on their half beaten wargs. When they made it to their prince, they feared he was dead. Blood stained the ground as the large gaps in their princes flesh oozed out.
They quickly cauterized his wounds, with the prince's heart barely keeping him alive. Balin held his mace high waiting for the white beast to show its face again. They retreated quickly and headed for the kingdom of the wood elves. It was the closest place they could take their prince. Going to Erebor would ensure his death, but the magic of elves could spare him. Give him strength to fight away from death's grip.
King Thranduil had seen all as the dwarves rushed to his city. Already dispatching healers to retrieve their wounded. The remaining dwarves bowed in great thanks as their injured companions were rushed off...
-
King Thranduil scolded the impatient dwarves as they demanded the return of the wounded once they were roughly strong enough for the journey. Only a few days later did he finally give up trying to reason with the stubborn creatures. He sent his elves to take the dwarves back to Erebor safely, more so to protect the wounded from the impatient driving skills of the other dwarves.
Thrain ran to his son, who was entering the great halls on a thin cot being lifted by Dwalin and Balin.
"What is this?! Where have you been?! Why is my son injured?!"
Thrain rambled onward and the two guards quickly marched to the young prince's room to lay him on his bed. King Thror followed behind and stood before them demanding answers. When Thorin was settled they lowered their heads in shame.
"We have failed you my lords..." Balin's voice was weak with despair. Thorin had been saved from death but he still feared for his prince's recovery.
"Aye... There were many... We don't know what failed..." Dwalin added behind his brother. The older prince and King before them were fuming.
"You don't know why my son is gashed!? Why he looks so close to death!?"
"What meaning is this?" Thror cut into his son's rant.
"Why had it taken so long to return? Explain yourselves quickly!"
Dwalin and Balin winced and told them every detail they could remember...
-
Balin creaked open the door and stepped into his prince's chamber. He nodded to his brother who turned from the window. Thorin did not glance to him, too busy with his thoughts. Balin took a seat beside Thorin's bed and lit a pipe, taking in a deep puff. The smoke slowly seeped out as he exhaled.
"That was no common orc pack my prince." Thorin growled and blocked his vision with the back of his hand.
"Those one's there had a leader amongst them..." Thorin's ears perked up, withdrawing his hands to give the dark-grey haired dwarf full attention.
"Aye." Balin nodded back to his prince
"We don't know who but ye remember it well? A roaring curse over our battle? It called the white one back to us. How ye survived I do not know. We found ye unguarded, but alive..."
Thorin clenched his teeth at the thought of being so weak infront of his kin. It instantly vanished the moment he remembered the white being that saved him. Now that his thoughts were unclouded by pain and death, he analyzed it carefully. Balin eyed his prince who lost in curious thought. The anger over Thorin's face vanished, replaced with a most peaceful tone.
"My prince?"
Thorin flinched slightly back to his friend. He dared not bring up such a delusion. It was just a dream to aid his suffering. Nothing more.
Though...
He could feel those fingers still on his head...
Was that an illusion? Thorin eyed Balin still staring at him concerned. Dwalin's ever abrupt voice pitched in.
"Aye think he needs more ale. I'll be back." Dwalin without any response from the others left the room quickly. Balin scoffed at his younger brother.
"Balin, I wish to rest in peace now." Thorin notioned with a slight command to his friend.
"Aye, don't worry my prince. He won't be comin' back today. I'll make sure to that." Balin bowed and left his prince alone.
Thorin rested his head back down, enjoying the soft embrace of the bed on his aching body. Every attempt to move to his side was met with deep agony as his bones shifted and speared his innards.
His eyes gazed across the green tinted stone ceiling.
"Aulë..."
"No..."
"Just my imagination..." Thorin closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Weeks passed and he was forced to stay in his bed. His own body kept him still no matter how much he desired to stretch his muscles, or walk around the great halls. Balin kept clear watch of his brother, making sure never to leave him alone when his prince was sleeping. There were times that Dwalin had snuck in to give Thorin a friendly pat, but each time Thorin cursed him endlessly. Dwalin only took it as good will to their friendship. Not to most clever of dwarves.
Each day Balin would bring him news of the city and any important politics he had missed. Dwalin would just go off on pointless stories, though they were more pleasant to listen to than boring politics. At times they amused Thorin to a degree and that had him laughing in pain, to which he cursed Dwalin again.
When Thorin was alone, thats when he was met with his most welcoming dreams. The white being lingured in his mind. He could not shake his overwhelming curiousity. Thorin woke after every dream, dazed and relaxed. He wished to see it again, to find out what it was. Why it had come to him.
His desire grew stronger with every passing day he was trapped to his chambers. Balin brought news that the orcs they failed to slaughter had been moving constantly to avoid the elves hunting them. Though they still stayed in the forest, something kept them there. Thorin was pondered the thought. Orcs weren't inteleligent like other races, only cruel and bloodthirsty. The prince wondered if it were possible for them to truly organize their ranks without their dark lord.
The woods they lingered in where he had seen that which he calls his deity...
He wanted to see it... Just once more...
Thorin hissed at himself, remembering his failures. This would lead his dwarves to death if he pursued it. Scurring through a dangerous forest, now home to an unkown amount of orcs, just searching for one glimpse of light.
His mind argued with himself.
They do not have to come.
I am a Durin, I must not dwell on childish fantasies.
Fantasy?...
If I am to take the throne one day I must not give into temptation!
It was was warm...
Nonsense!
Sharp fingers...
...Sharp...
Thorin did not realize it at first, but his hand creapt its way to his hair and parted his braids. That touch was so real. No. If he were to ignore this presence, it may haunt him forever. It may have been a warning from Aulë himself, calling out to the dwarf prince. Who was he to question the divine will of his god?
Thorin gave in and decided that he would return to Mirkwood and search for the radiant being, hoping it would reveal itself to him once again. While his bones slowly recovered, he plotted how he would escape the eyes of his guards and creap silently through the woods. It was a dangerous mission indeed. The woods were filled with more than just orcs. Terrifying beasts lived deeper in the darker areas of the forest. Who knew what else grew there.
A prepared warrior might be able to handle his own against one, maybe two, but there was no telling what would greet him.
-
Thorin had managed to convince his grandfather to let him go apologize to King Thranduil for failing right after their alliance. Unfortunately, King Thror did not just let his grandson leave with 2 guards. King Thror appointed his own private company to aid Thorin safely to the wood elves. Thorin made no grimace at this news and nodded appreciatively to his grandather.
It wasn't long before they took to their ponies and headed over the vast land once again.
"What are we apoligizin for?" Dwalin barked.
"Aye must agree my prince, what is it we did wrong?" Balin added as their ponies walked on either side of their prince.
"You both need to understand relations between kingdoms. They are our allies now and we made a promise to protect their kingdom during the celebration. We failed and owe them a direct apology, though it would not make up for our failure."
The two brothers glanced anoyingly back at each other. They did not like the idea of apologizing to elves, the new alliance still had much to teach them about accepting other races. Thorin sent them a fierce glare to shut their silent bickering.
-
King Thranduil seemed slightly displeased with their presence. He sat upon his throne and eyed the dwarves marching towards him, making no attempt to stand and greet the dwarf prince. Thorin bowed, noticing the unwelcomed look on the King face. He assumed it was for their failure and lowered his bow further...
"I have come to apologize for failing your kingdom against the orcs..." Thorin kept his head bowed which greatly pleased King Thranduil. In truth the elf king did not care for their failed assault. It was more dealing with pestering dwarves that haunted his steps till he let them take their wounded back home.
King Thranduil stood and walked infront of Thorin, eyeing the dwarf's body. Thorin raised his head and watched the king circle him. It made him uneasy to be looked down upon... The king's eyes wondering over his clothed skin. Thorin was about to clear his throat when the elf king finally stopped infront of him.
"I see your injuries have healed quickly. Though some too deep to tell how well they have responded from our aid." King Thranduil smiled at the prince below.
Thorin gaped as he was not told that it was the elves that had prevented his death. He had awoken in his own chambers and rightfully assumed it was Oin and other healers that mended his body.
Thorin felt a wave of shame flood him. He owed the elves deeply for putting up with such useless warriors. He lowered his head again bowing deeply.
"I thank you for all your hospitality. I hope to repay it one day."
King Thranduil let out a soft chuckle and ushered for his son, Legolas, to come forward.
"We were not so fortunate to join the celebration. My kindom is pleased to have such an ally as your people." Thranduil's statement felt too welcoming. Thorin wasn't sure how sincere his words were but did not argue against them. As prince, it was his duty not to start wars on his own.
Thorin nodded in agreement.
"Yes we have not celebrated yet. As such a wondurous event as it is, it needs to be celebrated with both parties."
King Thranduil smiled. Legolas now stood proudly beside his father. His voice high with excitement.
"Yes! Let us celebrate father!" The young elf waved for music to play and servants to bring food. Thorin looked back to his dwarves and nodded for them to go and enjoy themselves. Though, by dwarf standards, an elf party was not very satisfying. Less fattening food was brought out, full of healthy vegetables and thin traces of meat. They looked as awkward as the elves. who were trying to understand their different customs.
"I must apologize Prince Thorin. I am a little weary from the orc pack that has been running wildly through our forest. I hope you do not mind if I sit and watch." King Thranduil had already returned to his throne as he spoke the last words. Thorin disregarded it, because a king is a king. Thranduil did not even need to ask or say anything for that matter.
Thorin nodded and made his way to the chattering bunch. It was not long before the wine barrels were rolled out. Everyone joined together and drank heavily, slurring through garbled cheers and songs.
Thranduil's eyes followed Thorin. The young prince had peeked his interest. Thorin could feel the kings eyes on him and figured the king wanted to talk. He poured two glasses of wine and walked back to the throne, offering a cup as good will. Thranduil accepted the cup, delicately removing it from the dwarf's hands.
King Thranduil made no motion of speaking, so Thorin took the initiative.
"Your majesty, if you would be so kind to answer. Has your kin seen a white giant in your woods?"
Thranduil stopped just as he was about to tip his glass for a drink of the aged liquid.
"There has been some rumor, quick glances of a white flicker in the distance. My people have been on edge with those Orcs refusing to leave our borders. Their wargs have more stamina and maneuverability than our horses so we cannot easily pursue them. As to why they stay in this forest is a mystery... Even Orcs are slain by the creatures that dwell in these woods."
Thorin stared endlessely into the King's eyes. He had not been dreaming. There was something out there. He must find out what it is.
King Thranduil caught Thorin's excited expression and curiously raised his brow. His voice lurked through the prince with a dangerous warning.
"Why do you ask Prince Thorin?... Does this creature interest you?" Thranduil took a sip of his wine, keeping an eye on Thorin. Thorin realized he reacted too openly. If he were to deny it, the King might be insulted for such a obvious lie.
"I saw the giant during our battle. Only a glimpse. I wish to learn about all beasts. I would not want to be caught off guard and fall into a spider's trap when passing through."
Thranduil let out a light laugh.
"There are many creatures we do not know of, Prince Thorin. We do not carelessly wander too far. It would be unwise to do so."
Thorin felt the King had already known of his plan to run off, but King Thranduil didn't seem like he was going to stop him even if he did know.
The party grew louder and joyous laughs filled the halls. The dwarves attempted to explain the difference between male and female dwarves to they elves. Going on about truthfull stories of beared women, then switching to old wives tales of dwarves growing out of the ground. The elves laughed wholeheartedly and poured the dwarves more wine. Thorin was slowly sipping his wine, trying not to draw attention to the fact it was still his first cup.
King Thranduil had excused himself to sleep. Thorin bowed to him once more and watched as one by one, both elf and dwarf, fell asleep on the floor. Thorin nudged them with his foot, checking each dwarf to make sure they were indeed deep asleep. He didn't bother with the elves, knowing they wouldn't care if he snuck around.
Thorin grabbed his sword and cloak that he had rested before bringing Thranduil his cup. The young prince quietly slipped through the halls and crept back into the woods.
