Link was roused from his sleep by the tweeting of birds close by. He opened his eyes and saw that day had broken. He didn't know when he had fallen asleep last night. He sat up, realizing that he'd been lying against the sharpening wheel. He must've worked so late last night that he passed out. He shook the sleep from his eyes so they could adjust to the light. He noticed that a blanket from the den had been placed over him. He assumed that one of the others did it for him when he passed out.
The others, he thought to himself. He suddenly stood up and looked about and found the forge empty. There was no trace of the Dwarfs or the Wizard. He climbed back into the house to find them, only to see that the place was empty. Link was admittedly dejected when he thought for a moment that they had left without him. It was a shame, though he couldn't deny that it would free him up to enjoy his vacation.
Link took the blanket off of his shoulders, when he suddenly saw a note pinned to it. He took the note and quietly read it to himself.
Mr. Link,
During all of the excitement last night, each of us had forgotten that you had not signed the contract. As such, you are under no such obligation to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield at this time. We saw how late you worked into the wee hours of the night, and none of us had the heart to wake you from such a well-deserved rest.
We unfortunately have to set-out soon. We thank you for your efforts in enchanting our weapons and giving us our fire-proof tunics; I trust that they will be of great help to us on our quest, and we will find a way to repay you for your efforts in the future.
Please be advised, that we will be making our final arrangements to begin our quest at the Green Dragon Inn, just beyond the river. We shall be disembarking at 11 o'clock in the morning. If by some chance you feel so inclined to sign our contract and join our company, you have until that time to meet us before we set off.
If however you choose not to, then Farewell to you, Mr. Link. We thank you for your hospitality and your expert craftsmanship.
Sincerely, Balin son of Fundin
Link was caught off guard by this. He couldn't believe that he'd forgotten as well; he patted down his tunic looking for the contract. He soon spotted it on the table nearby. He opened up the contract to see on the bottom three lines. They read –
Signed; Thorin son of Thrain
Witnessed by; Balin son of Fundin
Burglar;
The final space where Link was to sign remained empty. He looked over at the clock, and saw that it was just a few minutes to 11 o'clock. He rushed back toward the cellar door that led to the forge and spotted the Master Sword returned to its display hooks. He smiled upon seeing it.
Hamfast Gamgee had just finished his second breakfast and was about to start the day. He often told himself that no respectable, hardworking hobbit rushed to begin his day before 11 o'clock in the morning. The first item on his agenda was to check on his potato-patch. His family had been known for growing the best potatoes in all the Shire, and Harvest-Day was quickly approaching. After that, he would attend to his other duties; for generations his family had been the gardeners to the Baggins-Family; they were the wealthiest landowners in town and were a most agreeable client. The Gamgee family had been well compensated over the years to trim the verge about Bag-End.
Though Hamfast himself had grown worried over these past few months. Mr. Bilbo had become so paranoid of his relatives that he was willing to completely uproot himself and just toss the keys to his family home to some stranger passing through. And the town was very cautious of this young man; he was quite the eccentric fellow, putting up signs written in a funny language that no one could read, digging out the back-end of the house to install a chimney. And then last night, when that group of strangers converged on Bag-End and made such loud noises. The stranger must've been throwing a party of sorts.
It was mostly decided by the community to avoid that fellow when they could. But Hamfast Gamgee found him to be a rather amiable and pleasant sort. After all, he agreed to keep him on as a regular gardener, coming by every single day to attend to his plants. And he paid just as well as Mr. Bilbo had in the past, sometimes even handing over precious jewels in exchange for his services. Yes, you could say that Hamfast was looking forward to starting his day up at Bag-End. He gathered up all of his gardening tools and was about to head out, when suddenly he felt the ground shaking.
There was a rhythm to the tremors; a clip-clop sort of pattern. Hamfast walked out his front door and looked toward the road leading up the hill. He suddenly saw a rider on a red horse come into view and begin racing down the hill towards his house.
"Mr. Gamgee! Mr. Gamgee!" he heard a voice call. Hamfast looked back toward the rider and saw that it was the stranger, Mr. Link riding towards him. He looked to be in a hurry, and had a traveler's pack saddled to the horse.
"Mr. Link, what on Earth is going on?" Hamfast asked as the horse came to a stop just beyond his gate.
"I need you to look after my house for me," Link told him.
"What? Look after your house?" Hamfast asked.
"Yes, every day when you come to do your gardening duties, I would like you to go into the house and take care of the place," Link said suddenly tossing the keys to Bag-End into Hamfast's hands. The hobbit fumbled with the keys before finally grasping them. "Feel free to stay there for as long as you like. Open it to rent, throw parties, do whatever you please, I don't care. Just look after it while I'm gone; I'm expected to be away for several months, maybe a few years. Just make sure you lock the doors when you are finished."
Hamfast listened to Link's instructions as he looked at the keys. Link continued.
"Don't bother trying to take anything from the home; there are many enchantments on the possessions in my home, so you will be made very aware of the immediate consequences should you try to remove them," Link said. "And whatever you do; do not let any of Mr. Bilbo's relatives into the house, no matter what you do."
"I find this most irregular, Mr. Link," Hamfast said. "Why on Earth would you-"
"I'm sorry Hamfast, I've got no time to explain; I'm already late," Link said kicking his horse, sending it racing off.
"Late? Late for what?!" Hamfast called back to him as he vanished into the distance.
"I'm going on an Adventure!"
Gandalf led the company of thirteen dwarfs out of the borders of the Shire. Gandalf rode upon a large brown horse, while the dwarfs followed behind, each on a small pony. Thorin and Gandalf occupied the front-most position in the group, as if competing for the lead.
"Wait! Wait!" they heard a voice call from behind them.
Gandalf pulled the reins on his horse, stopping to turn around. Each of the Dwarfs, save for Thorin had stopped in their tracks. They turned and saw a rider closing in on their ranks.
"Wait!" the rider called. They soon saw that it was Link, riding in on a deep orange colored horse. They saw that he was dressed differently. His usual green tunic was replaced. They could tell he was wearing a layer of chainmail over his underclothes, beneath his red Goron Tunic. And the tunic was covered by a coat and cloak. Link wore a red variant of his hat, but the hat was still covered by a dark colored hood from his cloak. They saw that the sheathed Master Sword was strapped to his back. His satchel wrapped around his side. Link looked ready for combat.
He rode up alongside Gandalf and Balin, Thorin finally stopping to look back at him.
"I signed it," Link said coming in. "Sorry I'm late; but I signed it."
Balin took the contract and smiled at Link. He tilted his head as he revealed his gem monocle. He examined the contract and saw that Link had indeed signed where it marked, 'Burglar.'
"Everything appears to be in order," Balin said folding up the contract, and handing it back to Link. "Welcome, Master Link, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."
Link smiled and looked to Thorin for approval. But Thorin sneered and turned his pony back toward the trail.
"Move out," he called to the others.
Link frowned seeing Thorin turn away. The dwarfs soon began trotting in line, and Link soon joined alongside them.
"That is a beautiful horse, Mister Link," Nori commented. He wasn't wrong. The horse Link rode atop was deep reddish orange and had a beautiful mane of flowing white hair.
"It is like you ride atop living fire itself," Fili commented on.
"Thank you," Link said. "Her name is Epona; she has been my companion for many years now. She was kept by a cruel rancher who attempted to train her for a Dark Lord to be his horse. So she gained a reputation by being a wild one who could not be tamed. That is until I freed her. And she has been one of my most loyal friends ever since."
Link travelled along with the company of Dwarfs for a few minutes before he heard a commotion among them.
"C'mon Nori, pay up!" he heard Oin call. Up ahead, Nori turned and threw a small purse of coins to Oin's waiting hands. Link soon saw that at least half of the dwarfs were soon exchanging purses between the other half.
"What's that about?" Link asked to Gandalf who had taken stride beside him.
"They took wagers," Gandalf said. "-On whether or not you would turn up; most of them bet that you wouldn't."
"And what did you think?" Link asked with a smile.
Gandalf grumbled and didn't say anything. He instead lifted his hand right as Gloin turned around and tossed a coin purse to him, catching it. He laughed and tossed the purse lightly in his hand. "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second."
"Y'know Gandalf," Link said. "I am excited for this quest, but I have to admit I don't know much about why we're undertaking this quest. I know we're going to fight a Dragon at the Lonely Mountain. But what is so important about this mountain? And what is the profit – if any – to be had from this endeavor?"
"Oh all of this was detailed in the song the Dwarfs sang for you last night; weren't you listening?" Gandalf asked. "Though I don't suppose you could have with how diligently you were working. The quest this company is to undertake, seeks to reclaim the Dwarfs homeland. It was taken by the Dragon."
"The Dragon took their homes?" Link asked. "Why? What did they do to incur its wrath?"
"Oh well they...It is a very long story and a sad one at that," Gandalf said, taking out his pipe.
"All the best stories are," Link said. "I enjoy long stories; and if it is such a sensitive issue than we should use that as motivation to succeed. I sense that revenge might be in order here?"
It was at this point that Gandalf had begun smoking. He curiously observed Link and finally readjusted on his saddle.
"I feel it would be best to start at the very beginning," Gandalf said. He took a great drag from his pipe before releasing a large smoke ring. "It began long ago...150 years ago to be precise...in a land far away to the east, the like of which you will not find in the world today..."
As Link listened to Gandalf's story, he began to picture the story unfolding in his mind's eye. He listened intently, not letting his attention fall away for anything else in the world. Gandalf continued...
"There was the city of Dale. Its markets known far and wide, full of the bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful, and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle Earth: Erebor. Stronghold of Thror, King under the Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf lords.
"Thror ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son, Thrain," Gandalf stopped a moment to look ahead at Thorin. Link followed his gaze. "-and grandson, Thorin."
"Thorin is a Dwarf Prince?" Link asked. "Well that explains a lot. And this Kingdom, this –"
"Erebor; built deep within the mountain itself," Gandalf continued. "The beauty of this fortress city was legend. Its wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewed from rock, and in great seams of gold, running like rivers through stone. The skill of the dwarves was unequaled, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby, and sapphire. And the wealth of this mountain kingdom was overflowing. Erebor was the wealthiest kingdom in all of Middle Earth, and Thror was the richest of all Kings; the Lord of Silver Fountains. All in Middle Earth would pay homage to him, even the great Elfen King, Thranduil of the Greenwood Realm."
Link imagined a beautiful fortress city built into the mountain, walls of carved jade. He imagined a Dwarf-Lord, with a beard as long as he was tall – not unlike Thorin – adorned in gold and jewels, wearing a bushy royal robe that flowed behind him. He sat on a golden throne with his Son to his right hand and his Grandson to his left. He imagined a great mine beneath the city where legions of dwarfs tirelessly and without complaint, chiseled away at the rock and earth, hewing gems and precious metals from the walls with each swing. He imagined the Elf King himself to be very similar to his own kin from home, in the land of Hyrule. That he wore a splendid flowing green robe and a crown adorned with emeralds, atop his corn-blonde hair. He imagined that in each other's company, these once stoic kings would be quite the merry sort. Yes, Link could see it all; the Greatest Kingdom in Middle Earth; a land of plenty, where all came to seek a happy time, and bask in the riches of the land.
"But the years of peace and plenty were not to last," Gandalf finally said, bringing Link out of his imagination. And as Gandalf continued, Link saw a shadow creep over his mindscape, corrupting his fantasy. "Slowly, the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. Now as you might have imagined, or perhaps had heard in your time here, Dwarfs are quite fond of precious things; which is why they are so keen to mine for gems and gold in the first place. One might say that Dwarfs are greedy on a typical day. However, not simple Dwarfish Greed could be responsible for what had occurred. Thror's love of gold had grown too fierce; my guess it had something to do with that Magic Ring of his; it increased his lust for precious things, and turned it into a fierce and jealous need. A sickness had begun to grow within him: a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow.
"The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind. The young dwarf prince called out to the alarm and warned the people. He knew what it was that had come...The Dragon...It was a fire drake from the north. Smaug had come.
"The attack began in the city of Dale. Fire rained from the sky as the enormous body moved like a shadow through the air. Such wanton death was dealt that day, for this city of men was nothing to Smaug; His eye was set on another prize. For dragons covet gold, with a dark and fierce desire. Thorin and led the company of Dwarf Guards to the front gates, ready to fight to the last against the beast. But there was nothing they could do to hold off this monster's attack. The Dragon came in, smashing its way through the gate, and killed every dwarf that stood in its way. It was a miracle that Thorin escaped with his life. It was most fortunate that he did, as he was able to help his Father and Grandfather, and any citizens found inside of the kingdom to safety. Smaug, having had his fill of killing that day, claimed his reward. Erebor was lost, for a dragon will guard his plunder as long as he lives."
Link had imagined that Thror's demeanor had changed, to that of a covetous banker, looming over his treasure horde. He imagined the terrible destruction brought about by the dragon, until it had claimed the treasury of the kingdom. He imagined that Thror was almost swallowed up by a tidal wave of gold coins, drowning in a sea of his own greed, had it not been for Thorin pulling him out of it. He imagined the Dwarfs running for their lives, seeking refuge.
"The Dwarfs and the men of Dale sought help from their neighbors in Greenwood. Surely the Elves would give them shelter, or even perhaps reinforcements to retake the mountain; or so they thought," Gandalf said. "But no help came from the elves that day, or any day since."
"What? Why? Why wouldn't Thranduil help them?" Link asked.
"Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon," Gandalf said. "And thus, the fierce rivalry and animosity was born between the Dwarfs and Elves. Dwarfs will often speak ill of Elves purely for these reasons, and will go out of their way to avoid seeking or outright denying help from anyone of the...Elfish kind."
"Is that why you've told me to hide my ears?" Link asked. "Because I look like an Elf?"
Gandalf said nothing; he just grumbled and kept his eyes on Thorin, hoping he had not overheard that. He continued his story. "Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness, a once mighty people brought low. The young dwarf prince took work where he could find it, laboring in the villages of men, but always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright, for he had seen dragon fire in the sky, and his city turned to ash, and never forgave, and he never forgot."
"Thorin was there," Link said. "He wasn't kidding when he said he was over 150 years old."
"He was a young Dwarf then," Gandalf said. "You might consider him to be middle-aged now."
"Dwarfs do live a long time," Link said.
"You never did clarify how old you are, Master Link," Gandalf asked.
"You know, Sir Wizard; I have lived for such a long time and gone on so many adventures, that I have all but forgotten how old I truly am," Link said. He then looked at Gandalf. Gandalf slowly took on a smile and the two began laughing together.
The journey continued long throughout the day. Link would often take a new companion to ride along from the thirteen Dwarfs. He knew to keep his distance from Thorin and Dwalin, though he found Dwalin to be the more pleasant of the two. The rest of the Dwarfs were friendly enough. He had learned much from each one of them, except for perhaps Bifur, whom he could not understand at all.
"You don't seem like much of a fighter, Ori," Link said riding alongside the young Dwarf atop his pony.
"Well you aren't wrong," he said. "I'm actually a scribe; I felt it would be a good opportunity to record the events of our quest."
"So how exactly did you come to join the company of Thorin?" Link asked.
"We were living with Thorin in the Blue Mountains when he began recruiting for this quest," Ori said. "We're distant cousins to him."
"You're related?" Link asked.
"Oh aye," Dori said chiming in. "We are Durin's Folk – Durin being the line of Dwarf Royalty from which Thorin and his family descend. In fact, most everyone here is Durin's Folk; being related by blood or by family." Dori pointed ahead to Dwalin and Balin near the front. "Dwalin and Balin are the cousins of Oin and Gloin by their fathers. They too are Durin's Folk. Fili and Kili are direct descendants of the House of Durin; they are Thorin's nephews, the sons of his sister, Dis."
"Wow," Link said, his voice picking up. "So...You're all family!"
"Well you could say that," Nori said. "Except for Bifur, Bofur and Bombur. They came of their own accord."
"Well still, I like this news," Link said. "This company together; we are on Family Business." Link then raised his voice so that Thorin at the front of the group could hear. "And I am honored to be welcomed amongst your kin; as a part of your company and your family."
Link was merely teasing Thorin. The Dwarf prince simply sneered and continued to ride forward. This strange Hylian had irritated him at every turn. But Thorin knew to bite his tongue; if this boy was as skilled as his boasting, he would be of great help to them all. Might as well use him.
Link then turned back to the three brothers and continued. "Well I'm sure that before this quest is done, you'll have quite the tale to write down," Link said to Ori. "I hope that you'll be able to handle yourself if we get into trouble. I was quite surprised at your choice of weaponry when I enchanted last night; I was expecting you to give the dragon a taste of your Dwarfish Iron right up his jacksey," Link was merely teasing at that. "Your weapon is a sling-shot, is it not?"
"It is," Ori answered. "I'm a very skilled shooter."
"And your ammo consists of rocks and pebbles?" Link asked. "I can do you something better." Link reached into his satchel and produced a deep brown colored bag. He opened it up to reveal tiny yellow seeds inside. "These are Deku Seeds. They might not look it, but they are incredibly hard and can fly through the air with the force of rocks. Here, feel the weight."
Ori took one of the seeds from the bullet bag and weighed it in his hands.
"It's so light, yet it feels solid," Ori said.
"Yes, they are incredibly dense, but their light-weight makes them easy to carry and even easier to fire. This bag contains about fifty. They grow very quickly when planted in soft soil, after just a few days, so we'll have plenty of opportunities to make more, should we need to," Link said. "Take them; I feel they'll serve you well."
"Thank you, Link," Ori said taking the bag of seeds. "I won't let you down."
"Just make sure you work on your aim," Dori said with a laugh. Link looked back to the eldest of the three brother dwarfs. He could sense that he was merely teasing his younger brother; he'd noticed it all throughout last night that Dori held a great deal of concern for the younger Dwarf, making sure he had enough to eat and drink without becoming sick, not standing too close or too far from the fire of the forges, for fear of catching cold. He was a determined and caring older brother indeed. He felt this was a good opportunity to get a good reading on Dori.
"And what about you, Dori?" Link asked. "What is it that you do? Judging by your bearings, I doubt it would be a lie to say that you were perhaps the strongest Dwarf in our company. And by the look of that flail and sword you had me sharpen last night, you must be quite the fighter."
"Oh he may be formidable to a weed or so, but he's hardly much of a fighter," Nori chimed in with a laugh. "My brother is far more of a dandy than a warrior." Nori and Ori began to laugh lightly with this teasing. Dori seemed to grumble slightly.
"They are merely jealous of me, Mister Link," Dori said. "My beard has grown long and silver with experience. And I fancy tying it into beautiful braids, which they find to be most peculiar. But I find fascination in the finer things in life, which is all but lost on these two witless toads. They wouldn't know fine class if it smacked them upside the head; to which, I occasionally do."
"He thinks very highly of himself," Nori chimed in again. "He fancies himself a classy sophisticate, enjoying the nice things in life; a cup of tea, precious works of art, and crafts. Though he wouldn't know what to do with them if he had them himself. Probably fumble them with his clumsy hands."
"Well I'd say he seems a sophisticated sort," Link said. "After all, he was the one who recognized the fine craftsmanship of the Master Sword last night."
"It truly was a sight to behold, Sir," Dori said with a smile.
"Just wait till you see it in combat," Link said. "The blade is incapable of stain; rust and wear have no effect on it, and blood will roll harmlessly off its form." Link looked ahead and saw that Nori had turned away, losing interest in the conversation. "And what about you, Nori? What do you do?"
"For the purposes of this company, I am what you might say a Tracker," Nori said looking back at Link. The Dwarf had an odd tidiness to his beard, that he for a moment would've suspected him making fun of Dori for having; his beard was braided into three long braids off his chin, his hair pulled back and formed into a large triangle on top of his head. Even his incredibly long eyebrows were braided into his hair. Link suggested that this would make the Dwarf blend in, should he be hiding. "I will often be called upon to hunt down food for us to eat during our journey. I'll track down whatever seems good enough to put over an open fire. But back home, I am what you might call, a Scrapper; I often find old, misplaced things, and recycle them for other uses; be it melting them down, or renewing them. It's simple work."
"I'd say it's simple," Dori chimed in with a condemning tone. "Which is probably why he gets into so much trouble back home. He tends to scrounge for things that are not technically abandoned or misplaced, and still of some use to their owners. I should suspect he joined this quest just to get away from the law long enough for the heat to wear off."
Link was taken aback for a moment and sat quietly atop Epona. If what he heard was true, Dori just accused his brother of being a thief. And that he merely joined the company to escape punishment for whatever crimes he'd committed. Nori looked back and sneered at Dori. Link leaned away from the two, expecting a shouting match between them to start at any moment. However, as the two brothers stared each other down, their expressions grew lighter, and soon they both erupted into uproarious laughter. Link soon lightened up and chuckled alongside them. He supposed that while what Dori said was true, he too was merely teasing his brother, just as the others had done him.
"But between the two of you," Link said. "You don't strike me as having a life dedicated to fighting; at least not in the same sense that I get from Dwalin. You both seem to be crafters; good with the hands of sort."
"Aye," Dori said. "I once worked in the Great Forges of Erebor, fashioning many objects of beauty from gold and jewels."
"And your brother, 'recycles' things and makes them into something new," Link said. "That's a sign of his creativity as well. You both seem to have artistic talents; maybe you both share an appreciation for the finer things in life. I saw that you were both quite skilled with playing the flute last night...Maybe you have a passion for it."
"Well all Dwarfs enjoy a good bit of music, Lad," Dori said. "But it's hardly work to be paid for."
"You would be surprised," Link said. "Besides, music is the medicine for the soul. I cannot recall how many times a good bit of music has helped me in my journeys. It might become invaluable before this quest meets its end."
The company had continued, passing over hills of green, beneath the shade of forests, and even down mountainous slopes, along their journey. It was only the first day and it seemed they had come so far. It wasn't until sunset, when they came to a stop on the side of a cliff. It was there they had made camp for the first time on their quest.
Oin and Gloin had got to work making a fire as the other Dwarfs took to unpacking their bed rolls. Bombur took the great pot strapped to his pony and brought it to a nearby stream to fill it. He began to cook a stew from their packaged food for dinner; the first of many meals that the company enjoyed during their travels. It was ready sometime after night had fallen. The thirteen Dwarfs, Gandalf and Link enjoyed the meal, as they all sat around a nearby campfire, telling jokes and exchanging small stories.
It wasn't long before their meal was finished and it would soon be time to rest. It was clear that Bombur was the one most exhausted, and was mere moments before he was laying out on his mat, snoring loudly. His breathing was so powerful that the flock of moths that had flown about his face, sipping up what bits of stew dripped from his bushy beard, were sucked straight into his mouth with a breath, only to be released with the exhale.
"Well it seems that we've lost our cook," Link said with a smile as he brought two of the dishes back toward the pack to be put away. Link then walked over to Epona and began patting the side of her neck and mane. She affectionately rubbed her head against the side of his. He reached over to a small saddle back and pulled out a large orange carrot and presented it to her. "Here you go, Girl. That's for such a good job done today; you deserve it." She began to whinny with excitement, only for Link to calm and shush her, not wanting to wake the Dwarfs who were resting. She began chewing on the end of the carrot.
Suddenly the silence of the camp was disturbed by a violent screech heard off in the distance. Link looked off of the cliff, down into the forest in the distance where the sound came from. Fili and Kili, who were still awake, keeping watch by the fire had looked to the sound as well. Link turned back to the camp to notice that Gandalf – who was lying against a tree, smoking at the time – did not seem worried, whereas the two young Dwarfs were.
"What was that?" Link asked.
"...Orcs," Kili said.
"Orcs?" Link asked returning to the camp. Upon hearing the word 'Orcs' uttered, Thorin, who had been resting against the side of a large boulder, stirred and sat up again, looking off into the distance where the sound came from.
"Throat-Cutters," Fili said. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The Lowlands are crawling with them."
"They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep," Kili said. "Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood."
Link turned back toward the sound, his hand going for the hilt of the Master Sword. He expected them to eventually come across danger on this trip, but this was the first night, and he still assumed it would be quite some time before they had an encounter with a monster or two. And that sound was so close by. If the entire group had been sleeping, they could surely be attacked. Link had begun to worry for the first time on this trip. He was confident in his ability to fight off whatever came at them...but what he was most concerned for was defending the others. Should too many enemies attack at once, he might not be able to guard all of his friends.
Fili and Kili saw Link's sudden attitude change to caution. They looked at each other before their serious faces broke away into grins, and they finally divulged into laughter, thinking that they had frightened him.
"You think that's funny?" they heard a voice call, which caused them to stop laughing and look up. It was Thorin, who was now standing and crossing the campsite before the fire. "You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?"
"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili said, he and his brother giving an apologetic look to their uncle.
"No, you didn't," Thorin hissed and sneered. Thorin walked away from the fire, passing by Gandalf. "You know nothing of the world," he said with contempt. He came to a stop at the edge of the cliff, and looked down at the valley below, toward the source of the sound.
Link kept his eyes on Thorin. For the first time he'd known him, the Dwarf Prince looked genuinely angry, at the mere mention of Orcs. He sensed that the mere joking of his nephews struck him harder and more personally than he was letting on, or else he would not have been so harsh on them. He was about to go and talk with him, when a voice from the side called him back.
"Don't mind him, Laddie," Balin said, coming back from around the wall of rocks, finally illuminated by the fire's glow. Link could not tell if he was referring to either himself, or perhaps to Kili, who looked a bit dejected; though it soon became clear as Thorin kept his eyes on the two young nephews. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs."
Fili and Kili said nothing, but instead looked to their uncle, standing stoically at the edge of the cliff, in silent contemplation, his deep blue coat illuminated by the white moon light. Link sensed that they had already knew Thorin's history. Link however did not.
Link liked Balin; he found him to be probably the most amiable and welcoming of the Dwarfs. He conducted himself in a calm and friendly demeanor, showing the signs of his age and experience. He was a kind old-sort; not unlike a grandfather, or a wise elder who often passed stories down to the younger generations. Link hoped he'd be willing to say more.
"And what was that cause?" Link asked.
"It is an unhappy tale," Balin said turning away from the fire. But moments after, he heard footsteps and scuffling from behind him. He turned back and saw that Link had come to sit down in a spot near the fire, looking up at him, insistently. Balin raised an eyebrow with a smile. "But you want to hear it anyway?"
Link said nothing; he just nodded, rather eagerly. He enjoyed hearing old stories. Balin took a deep breath and leaned against the rock wall. When he finally began speaking the words, Link allowed his imagination to paint the scene for him, much as he had done earlier.
"The hardest part, I assume, would be finding the proper place to begin. Setting the stage with a little bit of history may be in order. It began when the father of our race, Durin, came to found the city of Khazad-dûm, a great mining city, built deep under the Misty Mountains. That is how when, in the First Age of Middle Earth, Durin became King Durin I, the first of the Seven Dwarf Fathers. Throughout the centuries, he became known as Durin the Deathless, not for immortality mind you, but from the belief that in his descendants, he was reincarnated, in an endless cycle, refusing to accept death. And so, the people, believing that Durin wished to live amongst them, yet again, took to naming their future rulers, Durin, after their forebears; and in this fashion, it is as if he never died."
Link was no stranger to such a concept. He continued listening...
"Khazad-dûm was rich and wealthy as more and more dwarfs flocked to it. The Dwarfs there, made allies with all they could in the surrounding areas; even with the Elves that could be found there," Balin said. Link glanced back at Thorin to see if any sort of reaction could be gleaned from him at that comment. None came. Balin continued, "It was so prosperous, that Durin III of the Second Age, was granted a Ring of Power, one of seven, given to the Dwarf Lords.
"But Khazad-dûm did not remain as prosperous as it once was. During the War of the Second Age, the Dwarfs of Khazad-dûm closed the doors and sealed them, hoping to turn the great city into a stronghold, to outlast the enemy. But unfortunately, in their seclusion, the Orcs and Goblins of the Misty Mountains multiplied...and began to close in on their dwellings."
"...Goblins?" Link asked. He had heard at least two similar sounding words from his own homeland, but like much in this strange land of Middle Earth, he knew the concept might be incredibly different.
"Aye, they are the lesser cousins, of the Orcs; smaller, deformed, inbred mutants who dwell in dark caves and holes throughout the mountains. And so it was, that in their halls, completely unbeknownst to them, the Durinsfolk of Khazad-dûm was all but surrounded.
"Throughout the Third Age, the Dwarfs expanded the borders of the great mine, digging deeper into the earth, to amass great wealth from the plentiful supply of Mithril found buried there; silver steel, harder than any material found on this earth. But alas, it did them no good, for the great tragedy soon befell them."
"What happened?" Link asked. Link didn't know what all of this had to do with Thorin, but he was most interested in the history so far, and at how well and concise Balin explained it.
"The rumors say that the Dwarfs delved too deeply and too greedily into the earth under the city for Mithril. And when they reached the lower depths...they awakened something...A nameless horror, whose identity still remains unknown to this day, rose from the depths and attacked the Dwarfs of Khazad-dûm, and even killed Durin the VI; it was then after, that the monster became known as Durin's Bane..."
"And you say that, no one knows what this monster is?" Link said. "What happened to it?"
"Well I'm not sure lad...I personally do not believe there ever was such a monster," Balin said. "No one had certainly ever seen it, or could give an accurate account or description of it. I believe that it was nothing more than a trick done by the Orcs. For you see, after our people fled Khazad-dûm, due to the death of the King, brought about by this so called monster...the Orcs took over the city, and overrun it. And it has forever since been known as Moria, the Black Pit. So you see...if there was such a monster living there, why would the Orcs be able to live so comfortably? The beast would surely overrun them as it had the Dwarfs. No...I'm certain that it must've been nothing more than old stories to chase the people away, and hold a looming threat over them, should they ever return..."
It was at this point that Link noticed that Gandalf was shifting on his seat, and quietly grumbling to himself. Even with his sharp ears covered by his hood, he could still make out the words, "Fool," from the Wizard's lips. He sensed that Gandalf knew more about this affair than even this old Dwarf did.
"So what does all of this have to do with Thorin?" Link asked. "Does he hate them for attempting such underhanded tactics?"
"Well, I trust I have set the scene enough, to finally describe where Thorin and I, as well as Dwalin and others, come in. For you see, after the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first. And thus began the Battle of Azanulbizar; thousands of Dwarfs marched on the gates of Moria, only to find a trap waiting for them.
"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King."
And in that moment, Link's eyes widened as he could see the scene unfolding. A monstrous warrior, more beast than man, locked in mortal combat with the Dwarf King, Thror. Link imagined Azog, having defeated King Thror, held up his beheaded head as he roared; flinging the head, to Thorin's feet. Link turned back to Thorin, trying to imagine what it must've been like, to witness his Grandfather and his King beheaded right in front of him, by a remorseless monster.
"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief," Balin continued. "He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us."
Link imagined the orcs, having overpowered the dwarfs, were now pushing them back from the doors of the city. The Dwarfs were fleeing for their lives.
"That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc." Link's imagination became brighter, as he saw a young Thorin stand alone against the hideous Azog; the monstrous orc wielding an incredible mace. Each powerful swing from Azog, knocked away Thorin's shield, his sword, and his armor. But despite being thrown down and pinned to the ground, Thorin stood defiantly against his nemesis.
"He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent...wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield." And that it when it all became clear to Link; the name Oakenshield...this was the story of how Thorin earned the title. He imagined him taking up an oaken branch lying on the ground, in a last desperate ploy for defense. And despite each of Azog's blows, the branch holds true, and shields Thorin from the Orc's wrath.
"When the final blow came, Thorin picked up a sword lying at his feet nearby. With a brilliant and swift move, Thorin cut off Azog's arm, from below the elbow." Link imagined the pale Orc humbled and brought to terror, as the arm wielding the powerful mace vanished from his body. Azog could only clutch at the useless stump of his arm as he howled in pain.
"Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. And after that fateful encounter, it seemed a miracle had occurred. Our courage and our will to fight on was renewed; there was hope for victory yet again. And Thorin turned back to his kin and called out to them, 'Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!' which in the common-tongue would be, 'To arms! To arms!' And our forces obeyed his command. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated."
Link imagined Thorin leading his army of Dwarfs in on the Orcs of Moria, and finally driving them back into the darkness from whence they came. But Link suspected that this story had no good ending to tell; after all, even in the aftermath of the Dragon, Thorin still lost so much from this endeavor.
"But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived," Balin lowered his head as he took into account those that he had lost. He recalled himself at a young age, as he and his brother Dwalin grieved over the dead upon the battlefield. But then, just as the beginnings of tears formed in Balin's old eyes, he looked up at Link with a smile. "And that...is when I saw him..."
Link knew to whom Balin was referring. He imagined that in the aftermath of the battle, Thorin stood on top of the hill, bathed in the sunlight, holding the oaken branch that had shielded him, and brought him victory. A proud moment, that defined who Thorin was destined to be.
"And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."
Balin's story concluded, and Link was left awestruck. He turned back toward Thorin, with even greater respect than he felt for the Dwarf Prince than before. It was a moment before both Link and Balin realized that they were not alone in the aftermath of this story.
Thorin, who had been overhearing the tale, finally felt the eyes on him. He turned to face them, and found that the entire company of Dwarfs had woken up, and listened to the story. They stare at him in awe and in reverence. Still with his stoicism intact, he came back to the camp, walking between them, to retake his spot near the fire. Link noticed something different about him now. There was a new sort of regal bearing about him. Thorin truly was a dwarf to admire. But still, there was one point of the story that bothered Link...something left unsaid...
"And the Pale Orc?" he asked. "This Azog...What happened to him?"
"He slunk back into the hole whence he came," Thorin answered, which Link had not been expecting. Thorin settled back into his place. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."
From out of the corner of his eye, Link saw that Gandalf had stirred finally bringing his attention to the group at the comment of Azog's fate. Link then noticed that a glance was exchanged between Gandalf and Balin; an indication of doubt...Link began to suspect that perhaps the both of them knew more than they let on...
Now I am going to avoid making a habit of doing this, as I will prefer to stick strictly to the perspectives of Link, except where I could avoid it, where I will perhaps follow Gandalf on his personal endeavors he partakes as part of this affair. But for now, from what I can tell you, is that the screeching of Orcs heard in the distance, was no mere random happenstance. It was much more intentional and deliberate, than any of our company of fifteen had yet to know.
Across from the cliff side where the Company of Thorin Oakenshield made camp, was another mountain. And from the forests on that mountain, a perfect vantage point of their camp was made; their collection of ponies and the orange glow from their campfire was purely visible. And they had been spotted by their enemies...
A pair of large vicious beasts growled in the direction of the Dwarf's camp. You and I might refer to these creatures as 'wolves' in our language, and we would be right to do so; they certainly fit the description. However these creatures were much larger than the typical fare of wolves found in our world; these beasts were comparably the size of bears. These where Wargs, the Wolves of Middle Earth. You will learn more about them as this tale goes on. For what you need to know of them now, is that these beasts, while wild in appearance, are far more intelligent, as far as animals go, than anyone might have suspected. And from their intelligence, comes their likelihood to form alliances with the bad sort.
It was long known in Middle Earth that the Wargs most commonly allied with the Orcs or Goblins; they both shared a common interest to spread and feast upon whatever they could run down. And they hated the pleasant company of the civilized world, with a dark and fierce animosity.
And it was upon these two Wargs, that rode two horrendously ugly looking creatures of dark skin and razor sharp teeth, above piercing eyes. These were two Orcs, the leaders of a hunting party; an entire Orc Pack followed at their command. And the head Orc, wielding a spear, was Yazneg. He was spying on the company of Thorin, and was most pleased to have found them. He turned to his companion and spoke to him. Now Orcs are capable of common-tongue speech, but they are most commonly known to speak the tongue of "Black Speech" the language of Mordor, the Birthplace of the Orc Race, while amongst their own ranks. Black Speech is a language of nightmares and bad omens, so I will not dare utter it or even attempt to repeat it here. Instead, I will simply translate what Yazneg said to his second-in-command, in the common-tongue.
"Send word to the Master: We have found the Dwarf scum."