Chapter Six
Dwalin, son of Durin, Lord of Erebor, had spent his day on the mountain's Western Slope, riding circuit and ending his tour at the Western Outpost. As the sun set, the ravens who had traveled with him settled contentedly, and he joined the outpost commander, Tórthur, a longtime friend, for dinner and ale.
They talked long into the night, mostly about Dwalin's idea to build a new Far West station out near the Pinnacles.
"It would be a help, no doubt," Tórthur said. "That area takes a day to reach and has caused the most trouble lately."
Then Dwalin changed the subject. "Aragorn's visit unsettled the lads a bit," he said, meaning the King and his brother.
Tórthur puffed his pipe and raised his eyebrows. "How so?"
"Wants Kili to return to the Blue Mountains. They've asked for him as King. Aragorn as much as demanded we make it so."
Tórthur smiled. He was close in age to Dwalin, a child of Erebor raised in the Blue Mountains, and he had returned to Erebor with the first group who traveled back. "They could do worse," he said, a twinkle in his eye.
Dwalin understood the jest. An understatement if there ever was. "They could at that," he agreed. Then he leaned forward. "If we send the lad, next spring…would you go along? He'll need the right people with him to help get a sense of things, earn their trust. My job," he said, hand on heart, "Is to stay with Fili."
Tórthur nodded. "You promised his Uncle as much."
"Aye. Can't leave the lad now. But someone who remembers the Blue Mountains under Thorin should go with Kili. He'll need steady hands along."
Tórthur tapped out his pipe and sighed, a big smile on his face. "I thought you'd never ask."
Fili woke and struggled to sit up immediately. Gunz…!
Then stopped, completely baffled. He was sitting on the ground in absolute darkness. Silence. Dank smell…decidedly not Erebor.
And he was wearing nothing but his trousers…not even his boots or a belt.
His hands were tied in front…wrapped with thick rope. Bargesailor's rope…? It was man-made.
He had no memory of coming to this place and his mind was oddly blank…even if his heart was hollow with an undefined fear for his son…for his entire family.
He sat, blinking in the darkness as he tried to clear his head. He absently tested the wiggle room inside the thick rope handcuffs. What had happened?
Slowly he recalled opening a door to chaos in the family quarters. Fighting with his swords.
Easterlings.
The sight of one flinging his young son against a wall.
He suddenly recalled that very clearly: Gunz kicking wildly, held up and used as a shield by an Easterling. The man roars, flinging the lad at the wall…his small body hits the wall with a thud.
Fili saw the horrible image in his mind: his son falling bonelessly to the floor in a still heap.
"Gunz," he said aloud, hearing his husky voice break. Mahal, what happened? How did I get here? And where the hell is here?
He moved, thinking to get to his feet, but he was overcome with a wave of nausea and hunched over, retching. Khakfe.
Sore head…behind his right ear.
Easterlings. His addled brain settled on that detail. Easterlings...and a lone Slaghead.
Easterlings were old enemies of Rohan, and he'd just sent his brother off with a load of gold destined to help greatly strengthen Rohan.
Kili…
Easterlings had defeated Dale back in the final battle. Dale's people only survived because he opened the halls of Erebor to their refugees.
Easterlings had killed King Brand…killed Dain Ironfoot. Had tried to kill him…would have, except for his brother.
Kili!
Allies of Mordor. Mordor was defeated, but there were still roving bands of dark forces around. Oh, yes.
Who would let those bastards into the Mountain? He wanted his brother on somebody's trail...wanted to know if Erebor was over-run.
Kili…!
He retched again, more of a dry heave than anything else.
What was really happening here? If this was supposed to be revenge against him, he'd be dead by now. The fact that he was alive enough to retch on the floor in the dark meant he was a hostage…a bargaining chip.
Against who?
Rohan, Gondor. Maybe both of them. Aragorn had just been here.
Fili decided he didn't actually care about the answer to that question at the moment. The thing that overwhelmed everything else in his mind was the vision of his little son, his innocent young lad, only half-grown. He's just a baby…! Gunz's small body hitting the wall with a thud…falling bonelessly to the floor in a still heap.
Mahal…where's my son? Please let him be alive…
Beka, cadet trainee and daughter of Lord Dwalin, left the last miner lad on a landing about 8,000 steps up.
"About two thousand to go," she said, resting a moment, bent at the waist, hands on her knees, heaving for breath.
Mieth had dropped to the ground and groaned.
The miner lad, Rúni, was in the same shape.
"Stay here, Rúni," she said between breaths. "You'll be our first relay down…Mieth brings you a message, all you have to do is take it down to Alfin and pass it on. We get more trainees, the relays'll be closer together."
Rúni nodded.
"You got your coat? Food? Water?"
Rúni nodded again.
"Let's hope your lads downstairs follow through and send supplies up," she blew her breath out, trying to calm her heartbeat.
"They will," Rúni breathed. "Piece of cake for miners, lass. We relay food and messages in and out of mine shafts all the time."
Beka nodded. "Good to know." She reached down and held out a hand to Mieth. "Let's go."
At sunrise, the flock of ravens who roosted around Ravenhill were perplexed. The nuts and treats which usually appeared on the feeding ledge hadn't been delivered. All they found were the bits and crumbs left from the day before.
And there were no Friends at Ravenhill. No ravenspeakers with arms raised for them to alight and converse.
They put up a hue and cry for a short while, complaining loud enough that any lazy Friend would hear it and come running with an apology.
The idea of it.
But no one came.
Kaia, a seasoned veteran now, decided to vacate when someone (not a dwarf, but a man) threw a stone at her. She laughed at him, easily avoiding the insult, but she flew away west.
There would be food at the Western Terrace. Ravenspeaker Friends would be there. The rest of the Ravenhill flock followed…first just a few, then the entire mob.
But when they arrived at the Terrace, the flock there rose to chase them off. No food, but if it shows up, it's ours!
Kaia landed on a rock, then defended her position with beak open and wings outspread.
Not right! Not right! She called. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Finally Klaak of the Terrace flock landed in front of her, eyeing her first with his left, then his right eye.
"What do you mean, wrong? Speak!"
Kaia conveyed her worry. No Friends at Ravenhill. No Friends on the Terrace. "Where are the Friends?"
"Raven Prince and Hen-hen rode away," Klaak stated.
Kaia bobbed. Yes. That was known. "Corax went with them. But where is King? Nut Head? One eye? King but not King? Club-tail? Beaknose? The others?"
And then a raven from Dale winged in, complaining. "No one speaks in Erebor this morning."
Kaia and Klaak agreed. No one.
"Circle the mountain," Kaia demanded. "Look, look, look. Raise the flock. Tell Dale…no one to speak in Erebor."
The Dale raven flew off, returning to Peas, the ravenspeaker in Dale.
Kaia took to the air, heading for the Ledge higher up the mountain from the Terrace.
Klaak raised his flock, sending them far and wide.
Find a raven friend…search the Mountain.
Edda, lieutenant in the Royal Guard, finally saw a flicker of light at the bottom of the stairs, still far below.
Mahal…
Maybe there was help. She eased the unconscious weight of her queen gently to the floor, resting her against the steps, squeezing the Lady's hand in apology.
If she could hobble down, see who was there…maybe get someone to help.
"I'll come back for you, my Lady," she promised in a whisper. Lady An couldn't hear her, but Edda felt it rude not to say it. Standing awkwardly on one foot, she looked resolutely down the stairs and limped down two more steps.
She used her hands now, bracing against the walls to steady herself in the narrow staircase, ears sharp for sounds.
Think, lass, she told herself, though she was decidedly light-headed. If there were enemies upstairs, there could be enemies down here.
But she heard nothing. She slowed as she approached the opening. The rock transitioned from rough hewn walls to a slick, smooth finish.
What would be so well constructed this far down?
The stairs ended at a 90 degree angle to the room beyond. She reached the final step, shuffled into the tiny foyer, then turned to face the open room beyond.
She stopped in the doorway, eyes adjusting to the dim light in a cavernous hall. Oil lamps, the kind with deep reservoirs. Long-burning…
She spotted three, then five. Seven lamps. Something solid in the center of the space, a mithril inscription shining dully in the flickering light.
Her stomach went hollow. She was in the tombs.
That was Thorin Oakenshield.
Fili had managed to stop retching and get to his feet. He'd even found a wall in the darkness.
No water, no food. No answers. Just a wall.
Barefoot and chilled, he was trying to explore his prison...how big? Was there a door? Wood or iron? Was anyone else here?
All he knew so far was this was not Erebor stone. It didn't speak to him. It didn't feel right.
The floor he'd explored was flat, pressed earth, and the walls were granite-rough, but straight plumb, so it had been carved out by someone. It was not a natural cave. This could have been an old armory or a dorm for troops maybe.
He was working his way to the left, feeling his way cautiously. His hands found a chain, dangling down the wall.
He didn't much like that development. Still, a length of chain could be handy in a fight.
If he could get his hands free, he could climb it, hand over hand. See how high the wall was. But his head still sloshed a bit when he looked up.
Maybe later. He suspected there would be plenty of time to get the rope off his wrists and come back to it.
He finally felt his questing hands bump into a door frame.
Yes. Wood…no hinges…must open out. Likely barred on the other side, but no telling.
Huh. He pressed his ear to the wood. Anyone out there?
He listened for a long time.
He pounded once, just to see if anyone reacted.
Nothing.
He pounded again, raising a ruckus… "Let me out!" he shouted.
No response. No one's there, or no one will answer.
Dejected, he sat, back to the wall. He wanted a raven. How far was he from home? He had no idea. If he could trust his senses—and he usually knew north from south, even underground—his senses told him he was south of the Mountain. How far and whether southeast or southwest, he couldn't guess.
Fili sighed. Someone had certainly known to take his coat, shirt and boots from him. He supposed it was no secret anymore that he kept weapons hidden about his gear.
But thank Mahal they'd left him with his trousers. His pockets were empty…but he had one more trick up his sleeve, so to speak.
In the seam of his left trouser leg, his fingers found a nub. He worked loose the tip of a long thin strip of metal with a serrated edge. After awhile, he had enough of it exposed to draw it from its narrow sheath.
It was something like a wire saw, but more rigid. The trick would be to hold it…but he managed by getting one end in his teeth and bracing the other against a crack in the floor. It took the right touch, but he was able to move the rope around his wrists up and down, the serrations cutting into the thick rope a little bit more with every pass.
It would be slow going…but at least there was no one to stop him.
Khakfe = crap or sh*t. From Thorin's curse directed at Thranduil while in prison, DoS.
**So grateful for everyone's encouragement…I've had a couple questions about Easterlings—who are indeed canon—and in fact are historical enemies of Rohan (having once inhabited the lands now ruled by The Mark) and they were the main force which over-ran Dale and held Erebor under siege during the War of the Ring—just three years prior to this series of AU! stories. See RoTK, appendice B just after the events of March, 3019 as reference, if needed. Huge thanks to all of you who've dropped a note or reviewed…your comments are really good to hear and helpful in keeping me going on this. Drop a note whenever you can—either a quick review or PM. It's all good. Mahal's blessing…Summer.**