THE LINDEN TREE

Chapter 2

All day the Dwarves had toiled through the undergrowth. Spring had brought floods, and the well-trodden path that led eastwards was drowned. They had tried cutting through the wooded hills, hoping to join the road again further on; but now night was falling, and they had not found the road, and there was not a village in sight.

"It's useless, lads," said Thorin. "There's nothing for it but to camp here tonight."

"Again," said Balin. "Is it just an impression, or are we lost?"

"The roads are flooded. Of course we're bloody lost," answered Thorin irritably. He would not be questioned, although he knew deep down that his orienteering skills weren't quite what he would wish. Not that he was worried; even striking through the woodlands, they were bound to come across other dwellings of Men sooner or later. But he was already weary of the damp, and of cram; and they had only set out a couple of weeks ago.

The Dwarves put down their packs and their tool-boxes, and set about gathering wood and getting a fire started. They huddled close to the blaze, and shared their cheerless meal; and Thorin saw poor Dwalin eyeing his cram balefully. Dwalin caught Thorin's eye. "Say, Thorin, how much longer d'you reckon we'll have to do this?"

Thorin shrugged. He would have liked to know that himself. "Until more of us turn up. Until we find a seam of something interesting. Until someone thinks up a way of turning sandstone into gold."

The Dwarves laughed mirthlessly. They knew well enough what could and could not be done with metal.

"S'funny," said Dwalin. "I always assumed that, you know, we'd move in, and that would be that. Nice cosy home. No more wandering."

"Half a year on the road beats the whole year on the road, if you ask me," said Snorri, and sneezed.

"You know how it is, brother," said Balin. "If we want food, we need cash. The mines are simply not yielding enough for the moment."

"Mahal knows we waste enough time down there. We should be getting on with building some proper halls," said Hogni, whose ambitious plans for the Great Hall of Ered Luin had been frustrated for years.

"We can build, or we can delve, Hogni; but a fine hall won't feed you," said Andvari. Regin rolled his eyes, but did not contradict his brother.

"You would say that, wouldn't you," grumbled Hogni. Andvari was a miner, and therefore biased.

"Come on, boys," said Thorin, in an attempt at lifting his companions' morale. "We're going to be fine. Things aren't easy, but they're a lot less hard than they were. We'll just have to grit our teeth for a few more years. Helgi, how are you getting on with your experiments?"

"Well, I think," answered Helgi the glassblower. "I got some rather pretty effects. Iridescent, like."

"That sounds promising," said Balin. "We might be able to sell that to the bloody Elves!"

The Dwarves laughed again, more heartily this time.

"Aye, that would be nice, to lighten the ponces' purses a bit," said Helgi. "But I do wish I had more time in my workshop, and less time spent on the road or down the mineshaft."

"Soon, my friend," said Thorin, "soon."


It began to rain again, and the Dwarves sheltered under the trees as well as they could. Thorin lit his pipe, and wrapped his cloak closer about his shoulders, and gazed mournfully into the fire. If he had tried to cheer his men, he felt very little cheer himself.

Not that he ever had much reason to be cheerful. He shouldered the weight of hardship as much as his fellows; but more than them, he smarted from the shame of destitution and exile, though he bore himself ever proudly, for their sake as much as for the sake of his house. But these things had become second nature to him, and they were not what troubled him now. Thorin had become increasingly uneasy about leaving the Ered Luin for long periods of time, as he worried about what Thráin might do.

Thráin had survived the Battle of Azanulbizar, but he had been grievously wounded; and though he had lost an eye, it was feared the greater hurt had been to his mind. Thráin had become restless, and impatient, and distracted; sometimes, he sat despondent for days and spoke barely a word, or worked himself up into a towering rage over trifles.

The worst was when someone was addressing him, but he looked away, and did not reply, and gazed unseeing into the middle distance, and though he had gone somewhere far away in his mind. His erratic behaviour was perhaps not yet apparent to most; but those who were close to him, and knew him well, saw that this was not merely dwarven ill-humour, but something worse. They shook their heads sadly, and said nothing to the King, but turned instead to his son in matters of state.

But every spring, Thorin set out on the road; and when he came back, he found Thráin had deteriorated further, and grieved that he was no longer the strong, commanding lord he remembered from the days of his youth. Thorin feared it would not be long before his father ran off half-crazed after some dream of glory, like Thrór had done in his folly. And so Thorin squared his jaw and took on this new burden; but he wished now more than ever that his brother had not been slain. How he would have needed his help in looking after their people, and their father, and their sister.

The fire hissed, and smoked, and went out, and Thorin steeled himself for another comfortless night in the wild.


The dawn came, pale and damp; and the Dwarves shook the droplets of moisture from their cloaks as best they could, and set off again, heading downhill. They found the eastern road again, and saw with relief that they had skirted the flood. The clouds had cleared a little, and the Dwarves struck out eastwards in rather better spirits.

They had been walking at a good pace for an hour or two, when they heard the sound of hooves in the distance. As the sound drew nearer, the Dwarves perceived that this must be a great company of riders, and they were approaching fast now, for the noise they made was like thunder. The Dwarves looked around them, seeking a place to shelter in the trees, for they were wary of robbers, and had no wish to come across a large party of Men; but the road ran now between hills that rose steeply on either side, and were but sparsely wooded, and offered no refuge.

"Looks like we're going to have to stand our ground, boys," said Thorin, and hefted his axe.

Around a bend in the road there came the host of riders; and the Dwarves saw that they were very tall, and wore bright hauberks such as were never seen in these parts. Spears they carried, and round shields emblazoned with the sun, and their tall helms were crested with horses' tails.

When the riders saw them, their leader raised a hand and ordered them to stop; and the horsemen cantered to a halt, spreading out as they could on the narrow road. The Dwarves, surrounded and outnumbered, gathered into a close circle, and drew their weapons. But the leader of the horsemen spurred his steed a few steps closer, and greeted them in the Common Tongue.

"Hail and well met, Masters, if you be indeed Dwarves, as my eyes would have me believe."

"Your eyes are sharp indeed if you can tell us from Elves at a glance," sneered Thorin. "But who might you be, riding thus armed through Eriador? If there be a war between Men, we want no part in it."

"We do not hail from Eriador," answered the rider, "and neither is war our purpose here. We are looking for Dwarves. But we came seeking craftsmen, not warriors; and it seems that you yourselves are ready for war."

"We are craftsmen and warriors," said Thorin.

"Men are sometimes under the mistaken impression that we Dwarves carry sacks of gold and jewels around with us," said Balin helpfully.

"Wouldn't it be nice if that were true, eh lads?" called Dwalin, casually swinging his hammer. The Dwarves laughed grimly.

"We find it necessary to show them what we are really carrying around," resumed Balin, and his face was not at all kindly.

"Peace, Masters, I pray you," said the rider. "If we wished to rob you, would we not have done so already? But such is not our errand. Will you not hear me?"

"Very well, state your business!" growled Thorin, but he did not take his hand from his axe.

The rider took off his helm as a gesture of goodwill. "Well met, Masters, I say to you again. I am Amleth, captain of the Riddermark."

There was a silence among the Dwarves.

"Never heard of it," said Thorin.


Amleth took a deep breath. This was not going at all well. It was fortunate that the lady had sent him, and not some of the younger hotheads of the guard, otherwise there might have been bloodshed by now.

She had been most particular in her instructions to him. "Be sure to address them with the greatest courtesy", she had said, trying not to forget anything that Gandalf had told her, "for Dwarves are suspicious of Men, and very proud; and though they may look like humble craftsmen to you, they may be great warriors and lords among their people. For even high-born Dwarves learn to smith or delve, even as we in the Mark learn to ride, and there is no dishonour in it, but pride." Amleth had bowed, and promised. "We need them, Amleth," she had said at last, "do not fail us." She had looked at him gravely; and though he thought she was clutching at straws, he did not wish to disappoint her. "I will not fail you, my lady," he had said.

Remembering the lady's words, Amleth summoned all the courtesy he was capable of, in the face of the openly hostile Dwarves.

"You may not have heard it called the Riddermark," he said, "but perhaps you know it by another name; for it is called Rohan in the Elvish tongue, and thus the men of Gondor name it."

"Aye, that does ring a bell," said Thorin. "I heard the name, back when we were in Dunland. I gather you people aren't very popular in those parts." To be fair, after a few years of their war against the Orcs, the Dwarves had been none too popular there either, and removed to Ered Luin soon after. "So what do you want with us?"

"Dwarves, they say, are great craftsmen and skilled with stone."

"Is that what they say?" Thorin did not like being looked down upon, especially by a tall fellow on horseback.

"So famed indeed is the skill of your people, that we have ridden many miles in search of you. Everyone in these parts knew of the Dwarves, but none could tell us where you could be found, only that you walked the land every spring; and we wandered long looking for you."

The Dwarves made no reply, but gave him a stony look.

Amleth tried again. "It is said that you will hire out your skills to Men; and we indeed have great need of you. For Orcs have come down from the Misty Mountains, and the Mark is under threat; and only the craft of the Dwarves can now help us strengthen our ancient defences."

"That is as may be," answered Thorin. "But what will you offer us?"

"That you will need to discuss with the King," said the Rider. "I have not the authority to decide your reward. This only can I tell you: the Mark is rich in two things, grassland and horses; but I daresay we can offer you more than the villagers in these parts ever could."

The Dwarves considered this. "What do you think, lads?" Thorin said to his companions in the dwarvish tongue. "I think the captain has a point. Look at the armour these riders are wearing. These are a rich people, or richer at any rate than the folk around here."

"I rather like the sound of it," said Balin. "A job like this might keep us off the road next summer."

"But Thorin," objected Helgi, "none of us are proper stonemasons, except Hogni!"

"We all of us know how to hold a chisel," said Thorin. "I daresay that whatever we can do shall be good enough for them."

"They won't be pleased when they find out that those Orcs are troubling them because of us," said Dwalin.

"Then let's make sure they don't find out," said Thorin with a grin. "So. Are we all agreed?"

There were mumbles and nods of assent. Aside from Helgi's misgivings, all thought that they would take their chances with these Riders.

"Very well," Thorin called to Amleth. "We will come with you; but on one condition. We must be back in the Blue Mountains before the winter."

"If you must be back, then you shall be back," said Amleth, relieved. "Moreover, I can promise you shall have mounts to speed your homeward journey."

"That is well," said Thorin, "but how do you propose that we journey now? For we will not be flung over your saddlebags like luggage!"

"We have a few spare horses," said the rider, "and I daresay you yourself, and your fierce-looking companion there, will be tall enough to ride them. The rest of your company shall each be carried by one of us, if it please you."

The Dwarves grumbled, but there was no better solution, and they did not propose to walk all the way to Rohan.

Helgi they sent back to the Blue Mountains with a message informing Thráin of their whereabouts; and Thorin knew that Helgi was relieved to be back in his workshop sooner that expected. And so the Dwarves bid farewell to their companion, and departed with the horsemen.