Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.
Chapter 4: The Heart of the Mountain
A torch flared to light in Gimli's hand and he held it up, nodding in satisfaction at the litter of corpses on the forest floor. Thorin merely raised an amused eyebrow at this familiar action by the next generation from the one he was used to seeing do it. Gloin had always loved the fight, in many ways even more so then had Dwalin. Legolas was picking his way among the fallen, ensuring that none lived. Thorin snorted with amusement at the distrust of the craftsmanship of his kin this showed, though he somehow doubted it had occurred to the elf. Pain flared through his leg, and he found it necessary to accept Gimli's wordless aid to walk even the half dozen steps it took to return to the sheltered alcove.
Fili was already seated, slumped against the wall, lines around his eyes betraying the agony he was fighting, though his one good hand was planted back on his brother's chest instead of clenched around his own as most would with such injuries. Frodo was watching Gimli, Legolas, and Sam move the dead away from where they were seated with distaste, face white. Sam soon had another small stack of wood ready for a fire, and sat down as Gimli lit it with the torch, Sting unsheathed by his side. At least this hobbit had that much sense.
"How are you feeling, Master Baggins?"
Gimli eyed the young hobbit with concern, earning a small smile in return even as Fili and Thorin both started at the name, though logical for Bilbo's nephew.
"I'm just very tired, Gimli. Sam looked, and even the wound from the morgul blade on my shoulder is gone. For the first time in so very long, I feel…whole."
"A wound from a cursed blade cannot fully heal!" Legolas appeared from the night, the soft objection preceding him. "I believe it is time the full tale of this night is told!"
Sam and Frodo immediately told of the unprecedented arrival of the dwarves, the tangled confrontation, and the discovery of the healing of Frodo and Kili. Frodo hesitated with a look at Thorin, then gave voice to the same conclusion the dwarf king himself had.
"I think it may have something to do with the gem that fell with them, which I presume was the Arkenstone. At least, it looked like the drawing in Bilbo's book. It was in my hand and sandwiched between Kili and I when that light hit, and we're the two fully healed."
"Fili and I both felt wounds knitting that had previously proven mortal, though they were not completely healed," Thorin added. "It does seem to have been the Arkenstone."
Thorin paused, lost in thought, as a scrap of memory from long ago teased at him. It was in Erebor, before Smaug, his grandfather and father were both in his grandfather's study, an old dwarf woman with them.
Curious, and a little frightened of the old woman, who had a reputation as a seer, Thorin had hidden behind the heavy drapes with his younger siblings, Frerin and Dis. Peeking out, he could see the old one bent over a gem lying in his grandfather's hand, the discovery of which had set Erebor abuzz earlier in the day. Long silence stretched as the younger two tried not to fidget and give them away, Thorin's gaze promising swift retribution on the one who did. When the seer finally spoke, all three dwarflings started, then stilled, barely able to make out the scratchy, paper thin words.
"Be wary, King Under the Mountain, for by disturbing this one's slumber, you have bound to it the fate of your House. Should it be lost, so too shall your people suffer until returned by the hand of one found worthy through the blood of the drake. Then shall your blood endure under the mountain until the end of days."
Thorin blinked, drawing his mind back to the present to find all staring at him in mixed awe and apprehension. Gimli swallowed hard, venturing the first question.
"I'd not heard that prophecy before, my King. From whence did it come?"
Surprisingly, the mode of Gimli's address instantly brought his temper boiling up, two innocent words scraping the scab off a newly formed wound.
"I am king of nothing! My name was good enough in your youth, it will serve now."
The other dwarf shrank back from Thorin ever so slightly while his cousin visibly flinched, opening hurting eyes to watch his uncle warily. As quickly as it came, the anger drained, leaving Thorin rueful.
"I am afraid my wounds and the situation have made my temper short, Gimli, I apologize. The prophecy was given to my grandfather and father on the day the Arkenstone was first discovered, though they never paid it much heed until the fire-drake came. I had forgotten it until now." He shook his head. "It is meaningless, as the line of my grandfather ended with Fili, Kili, and I, and Dain, I presume, still sits upon the throne."
He was very careful not to say 'my throne'.
"Well, that's not quite-"
Breaking branches and the sound of multiple bodies coming through the woods cut off whatever the younger dwarf had meant to say. Once more, Thorin forced himself to rise to his feet, wary, though neither Orcrist nor Sting gleamed a warning. A low growl gave them a bare moment to sweep weapons up to the ready before a single warg stalked toward them through the trees, seemingly unalarmed by the torch Gimli quickly brandished. The bow of Legolas twanged, but the arrow was snapped from the air with incredible speed by the beast, breaking into pieces in its jaws. Two more arrows were fired, but incredibly, neither found their intended mark. One fell victim to the same fate as the first arrow fired, while the other hit only a leg, serving to further enrage their foe. Gimli, Thorin, and Sam braced, ax and sword held ready, as Legolas abandoned his bow once more in favor of a long knife, none too pleased with the turn of events. The creature was already too close to draw away, pinning them against the rock wall where the others lay, presenting the danger of further injury to those unable to dodge the coming struggle. They were trapped.