You guys are amazing! There has been 11 new followers in about 3 days! That's crazy. *gives you all cookies* Thank you!

And thank you to: Savage Kill and Warg Rider (guest) for reviewing the last chapter.

This chapter was harder for me to write, at least the part with Thorin. I was struggling with how I wanted it to go, but here it is!

Enjoy!


Chapter 7: Onward to Dunland


The Long Road Home – vol. 2 October: 10 years ago

Exciting news! Mother has requested that we return to the Iron Hills for the winter and following spring. I can honestly say that I am excited to go on another trip across the Wilds, but this time we will be leaving with the other Outpost Dwarves. We will be traveling in a group of twenty or so, with all of our baggage, ponies, rams, and dogs. Father is wary; he says groups like ours become targets for bandits and other unsavory characters. Orcs tend to attack trekkers like us.

It does not worry me. I have my brother and my father and many other eligible dwarves who can fight. We are the ventures of our people, a different breed among Durin's Folk. Our skin is tough and our bodies able to face the hardships of the road. We are quick sighted and not afraid to try new things, since staying stubborn will get you killed. We are valuable assets in a time of lessening strong holds, regardless if it breaks tradition.

And besides, the past year has been good, and hopefully we will make it swiftly to Dain's strong hold with little problem. Mahal will be on our side.


In the days that followed, the Ironfoot siblings made good time on their travels. They had already crossed several rivers and past numerous farms while on the road, and the miles steadily disappeared under their feet. They set a fast pace, paying little attention to those who sent them strange looks, for their deep hoods were pulled forward to disguise their faces and they only spoke in short, rough voices to any traveler that bade them questions.

One evening they were staying outside in a field next to a small village. Omul didn't want to pay the fee for staying indoors, so they settled staying outside with their ponies tied to a fence and the soft grass serving as a comfortable bed. The sun was setting, casting an orange twilight over the field. Omul was next to the small fire pit they had built for their roasted chicken, he was sharpening Kili's sword and examining the blade with a craftsman's eye. Rhul lay in the grass, her thick scarf up to her chin as she twiddled a blade of grass between her fingers, her mind back in the Blue Mountains.

A certain golden haired prince was on her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about him, ever since that brief moment she had with him. Kili had told her his brother was one of the most selfless, loyal, and brave people he knew. And besides the numerous stories she had heard from his brother about the trouble they got into, she did not know much about him. He was a mystery to her, but there was a lingering feeling from him that would not disappear. Her heart continued to long for the Blue Mountains begging her to return and seek him out.

"You seem awfully quiet today." her brother stated, not even looking at her.

"And why would you think that?" she stopped twiddling the grass and tilted her head back to look at her brother. "I'm always saying something."

"Not today," he scoffed, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "I've asked you probably ten questions and you only replied in one-worded answers the most of the time."

Rhul rolled over and raised herself up on one elbow. "That's not true."

"It is and you know it," he pointed the blade at her before resting it back on his lap. "Your mind has been wondering about Fili, hasn't it?" He asked softly like a big, caring brother would.

She was quiet with a slightly puzzled expression on her face. "What makes you say that?"

"I see it in your eyes. And your endless questioning about him the first day we left only proves my point," he sniggered rubbing the whet stone along the blade. "I never thought I'd see it, but here it is, my sister struck with love."

"You think I've found my One?" she asked disbelievingly, nose crinkled in denial. "That's not possible, I only knew him for minutes."

"Mum says it is. She says it only takes one look and you know. It's like a bolt of lightning zapping through you and you have this connection," he replied, thinking back on his lovely mother. "I've asked her how she knew it was Da and she said she couldn't stop thinking about him. That how I know Fili may be your One. The question is if he returns your feelings. But what does it matter, my sister is falling for the dwarf I'll be saving in the future."

"You mean… you've found what you've been looking for this whole time?" she got to her feet and sat on the rock next to her brother. "You mean Fili and Kili are the Durin's your supposed to save?"

He shrugged at his sister's questioning. It was not a light question for Omul, not one he could easily reply to. He was still grappling with the aspect of the idea of finding the dwarves he had been looking for all his life.

"And Thorin I believe. I've had dreams about them," he began, looking far off into the sunset. The orange light casted a sharp hurtful orange glow on his face, as if he was pained but revealed all at the same time. "Dreams confirming my suspicions about who I must protect. When I'm around them, the Heirs of Durin, I feel like I'm supposed to be there. Standing by and cautious of what may happen. I feel like I belong, and don't, and I feel like I'm going on the right path but I'm entirely lost."

"Are you sure it's them?" she asked, eyes intently searching her brother's face.

"As positive as I can be," He nodded solemnly as a great weight passed onto his shoulders. "I've never felt this sure in my life, Rhul and it scares me. They are prime targets to dark forces, being nobility, and I am only one Dwarf who can only do so much."

A soft breeze picked up, ruffling the grass blades around them and stirring her brother's short braids and sending a tendril of hair across her face. It was comforting to Omul, with a hint of sea salt on the breeze and it reminded him of that day he was told what he could change.

"What are you going to do about it?"

He leaned back and sheathed Kili's sword, letting the solid scabbard fall on his lap. "Take it one day at a time," he exhaled heavily. "Keep my eyes open and see what I can do."

Rhul really looked at her brother, and she admired his courage when facing the unknown. He was a strong dwarf, a leader and a true warrior at the center of his being. Their ancestors would be proud of him. "I've made the promise before," she said, hand gripping his arm tightly. "And I'll make that promise again. I will go with you every step of the way, Omul."

Omul smiled softly at his sister's surety and he gripped his sister's hand. She was his foundation which he would stand on and he was glad he had been given a second chance to spend many years with her. He knew she had his back and in turn he would protect her.

"Aren't we going the wrong way then?" she inquired, breaking the touching mood in a light teasing voice. "Are we, I mean you, supposed to stay back in the Blue Mountains? Because… I would gladly go back in a flash."

He chuckled at her eager voice. "That's not where we are supposed to be, Rhul. I have a feeling we are going in the right direction."

Suddenly, the soft twilight atmosphere was broken with the sound of a raven cawing. Rhul looked up, recognizing the call and searching for the renowned black bird. From the sky he descended, looking more haggard for wear and flapping tiredly.

"Sorc!" shouted Rhul at the sight of the raven. She bounced to her feet and held up her arm. The raven landed on it smoothly, talons gripping the leather to slow its momentum.

"You blasted bird!" she laughed, revealed to see him. "It took you nearly three weeks!"

Sorc shot her a glare with his beady black eyes and he huffed and snapped his beak. He was a large raven with blue-green-black feathers and a strong beak and talons. He had two dark silver feathers on the tips of his wings which made him distinguishable amongst most ravens. When compared to Rhul's body ratio, he was a very large bird, almost larger as some eagles, but she held him up easily on her arm.

In the second week of their stay in the Blue Mountains, Sorc had returned to Rhul while she was in the forest. She had written a letter to her father telling him of their predicament and that they would be staying for a while. She informed Osk that they had successful delivered the news of Thrain and that the Erebor-refugees here were doing well. He would be glad to know his people were flourishing, so she sent the letter off with Sorc.

Sorc was one of the few ravens that had taken refuge in other places of Middle-earth while the Mountain was occupied with a fire-breathing worm. With no King on the throne and Ravenhill in ruin the Ravens had no need to linger. So they flew about, searching for dwarves they could be of service to until the true Mountain King returned.

Rhul had the extraordinary gift of understanding Bird Speech; she was one of the only living Dwarves that could. But Omul could not understand Sorc, he was not gifted that way. She'd rescued Sorc from a trap set by a mischievous human boy about twenty years ago on one of her solo adventures and he pledged his loyalty to her. Sorc said he would always return to her with letters and news while she was away, until the day the Mountain was reclaimed or he passed on.

He crowed and chittered at her in Bird Speech, telling her that he became caught in several storms that disoriented him while flying near the pass of Moria. Rhul took his explanation for his lateness and he pulled at a cord on his leg with his beak and the letter from Osk dropped to her open palm.

"Take your rest Sorc," she said, glad her friend had returned safely. "You've done enough for now."

The raven bobbed his head and he took off to take a rest in a pine tree. He stayed close in case Rhul needed anything else at the moment. She opened the letter and read its contents.

Good, you have arrived to the Blue Mountains swiftly. I knew my confidence was well placed when I sent you and your brother off. I must inform you that I will be gone for the next five weeks, an unexpected problem has arisen in Rohan and I have been called away to deal with it. I will hopefully be home in time, unpleasant creatures have been seen as of late and the Horse-Lords blame us for their problems. I fear our enemies are re-gathering and have only begun their attacks.

Send Sorc back as soon as you can, I wish to know where you are on your travels. Be careful as you come into Dunland, the Wilds have not been the same for some time.

Your father,

Osk

Rhul read the contents again and handed it to her brother. "Read this," she said, knowing he would make more sense of it than her.

Omul read it over. He stood up and walked around their small camp, letter in hand. Pinenut watched him carefully as she munched on grass and Sorc's eyes tracked the short-haired dwarf. He stopped and turned to face his sister, a concerned look on his face. "This troubles me, there can only be one group the Rohan villages would bother to call upon father for."

"You don't think it's Orcs?" she asked, voice tight with worry.

"It can be the only explanation. The Orcs never left Moria and they have been known to stage attacks on villages and supply lines," he stopped, remembering a fact he heard before he left. "Wait a minute. When you were off gathering Kili's gift the day we left, I remember him saying that his uncle had left a day sooner for 'business' south of the Blue Mountains. I may be wrong but there can only be one sort of business that would require him to leave alone."

Rhul's eyes widened, understanding what her brother was getting at. "Sorc!" she called and the raven flew over. "Did you see any dwarves ahead of us, about a day's travel ahead?"

He chittered again, replying that he had in fact seen a hooded dwarf with profound bearing. He recognized him as Thorin Oakenshield, the legendary Exiled-King his people often spoke of.

Rhul translated it to Omul and his face tightened with worry. "This worries me. Thorin has gone searching for his father in Dunland. If the Orcs from Moria are seen wandering about than I fear for his safety."

"He's traveling alone. Much has changed in the Wilds in the last few years, he does not know of the newest dangers."

Omul huffed and walked faster around the camp, his hand planted firmly on his sword as he thought. He stopped and turned to his sister, a decision finally made. "We will catch up with him. It will be better for us and for him. Then when we arrive in Dunland we can direct him to the Outpost where he will be safer than alone as he searches for his father."

"Will we help him with his search?" she walked over to join him.

"If the need arises," he nodded.

"How will we convince him to allow us to go with him? I don't know much about Thorin, but he holds more authority than anyone else we know and he may not want us to come along."

"We'll simply catch up with him, convince him we are traveling the same way and join him on his journey until we reach Dunland," he explained. "No dwarf in their right mind would turn us away. There's safety in numbers and we know the road better than him."

"This explains why leaving now would be for the best," Rhul said with a smile and a raised eyebrow. She knew Omul always had a wicked sixth-sense for things like this. "If we hadn't who knows what would have happened."

"Or what may happen," he said gravely.


Thorin Oakenshield relished in the joy of being back on the road, to be active and not remain idle and grow fat. He was on his own personal journey looking for his father. He felt that no one else should join him, not his good colleagues Balin or Dwalin. This was his own task and since he was unsure what the outcome would bring, he felt that he should face it alone.

He currently was traveling through a forest south of the land called The Shire. Beneath the tall pines in the early afternoon shade all was serene when suddenly a large black-green raven landed on a branch in front of his path. It was not your ordinary raven and Thorin pulled on his pony's reins to look at it with squinted eyes. He could not believe what he was seeing: an Erebor Raven, a figure and a ghost of his past.

The raven croaked at him and tilted its head back and forth with intelligent eyes. It leapt from the branch swooped so low over his head Thorin had to duck to miss its talons. He turned in the saddle and watched the raven bank and turned away, harsh voice ringing in between the trees.

It had been nearly a century since he had seen one of the Ravens of old from Erebor. Thorin did not know which way to take the meaning of seeing such a bird, since the ravens return had many omens tied to them. Dwarves naturally tended to be superstitious and the sight of the old Ravens would only raise those feelings. Thorin had to steel his thoughts, doubt would not waver him now. He sent a swift kick to his pony's flanks and took off again without another look.

He'd settled in for the night when there was a commotion in the underbrush. Thorin had barely lit his pipe and lay against his bedroll when he heard the noise. He was always aware of his surroundings when he was alone and he grabbed his sword Deathless and his Oakenshield before hiding behind a tree.

Thorin slowed his breathing and listened. There were three sets of hooves, and they were the heavy treads of mountain ponies, not the normal trotting of Men's horses. Dwarves were most likely following him. He raised his sword and steeled his hand before jumping out from behind the tree with a growl. He expected bandits or thieves, even Balin and Dwalin finally tracking him down but he was not prepared for two brown and red deep hoods with Iron Hill crests staring him down. It was the Ironfoots: Omul and Rhul he had met weeks ago.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, stance dropping and facing the Ironfoots with a commanding air.

Omul dropped from his pony smoothly and grabbed the reins. "We're traveling home to the Dunland and then onward past the Gap of Rohan. This is the quickest way to accomplish that. We are the ones who did not expect to come across Thorin Oakenshield on the road."

"That is because you were not meant to," he replied moodily and stormed back to his camp. Thorin's pony looked up from where it was tethered to a tree and it greeted the three other ponies warmly as their owners followed him.

"That does not stop us from going the same way," called Omul. Thorin shot him a look and the young dwarf retorted calmly. "We know where you are going Thorin. We brought the news to you in the first place."

That stopped him short. He sighed deeply, they were right. It would be useless to send them away. They knew of his destination and they could only help him from here on out. He sheathed his sword and turned to face the young Ironfoot, resigning to what would come. "I can only assume you will be accompanying me to Dunland."

"There is strength in numbers," the lad said. "We have traveled this road many times and we know it well."

Rhul descended from her pony and she held up her arm and Sorc, the raven Thorin had seen earlier, landed on her bracer.

Thorin's eyes jumped back form the raven to the lass in front of him, his brow crinkled in question. She must have the gift of speaking Bird Speech, a rare quality for Durin's Folk. He had to shake his head at them, these Ironfoots were a mystery and they were unlike any dwarves he had met before. From what he had heard about them they were much like his nephews Fili and Kili. He knew it would not hurt to have them come along, they were well rounded dwarves who knew the on-the-road lifestyle well.

"You may join me. Up until Dunland then we will depart to our own business," he agreed.

Omul was revealed to know Thorin would not send them away. "We will not be a hindrance, I promise." After that they unsaddled their ponies for the night and set up camp on the opposite of the older dwarf.

For the next few weeks, Thorin Oakenshield allowed the Ironfoots to accompany him. They quickly proved their worth to be skillful and not naive to the dangers of the world. Omul was exceptionally sharp in his surroundings and Rhul was a magnificent navigator, together they were able to set an efficient routine.

Being young, Omul and Rhul would spar together to keep their skills up and talk together about the many things that fascinated them but their constant chatting sometimes bothered Thorin. At times he could hear them chat even when he was ahead by a couple yards and had kindly told them to shut it. Thorin could only grumble at the youth's spirits, at times he wished for a moment of quiet, obedient peace.

"Do you always travel alone?" Thorin asked one day. Earlier he had briefly told them what it was like to wonder with their people after the Lonely Mountain was sacked by Smaug.

"No. Generally we travel in groups of ten to eight, sometimes even a company of fourteen," replied the brother. "I actually prefer a group over going solo."

"It is dangerous to go alone. Especially for dwarves your age," chastised Thorin from his pony.

Omul smirked from behind the older dwarf. He had been waiting for the chastising to come from the warrior. "A fact we are fully aware of Thorin, but we have been able to hold our own before." A grunt came from Thorin in response; he wasn't entirely impressed by their skills with the blade. He doubted they would be able to hold their own against three bloodthirsty orcs.

They were nearing Bree when a massive rainstorm rolled into the area. No matter the time of year Bree rarely saw a sunny day. In the mud and muck it was miserable to travel through and Thorin wished to steer away from it.

But Omul and Rhul knew of a few dwarf traders in Bree who sold quality throwing knives. In the goblin attack Rhul lost her own knives in the skirmish and she was looking for replacements. Bree would also give them the opportunity to reshoe their pack horse. The poor animal had lost a horse shoe in a creek crossing three days before.

Thorin watched from a distance, his hood pulled tightly over his head as he observed their dealings from the doorway of the stables. In the mud, with their hoods pulled closely over their faces and Rhul's femininity disguised with her beard-scarf, they were made good progress on their bartering. From Thorin's point of view the sellers appeared to be far too shady for his liking. He preferred to distance his dealings with obscure sellers, even if they were his own people. Thorin had found that dwarves who spent time in the dealings of the world of men were more prone to greed and corruption and the sketchy black markets.

Thorin learned that the siblings were open and helpful around his people, but what he saw next surprised him greatly. The shaggy bearded dwarf seller was not settling on a fair trade, even as Omul persistently asked for a better deal. The seller wanted more than what Omul was willing to pay for the high quality knives. Thorin watched Omul's stance stiffen and become guarded and unmoving, he no longer looked like the openly trusting dwarf he had heard of.

Omul retorted in his thick Iron Hills accent with harsh words in Khuzdul, and then they finally agreed on a deal. The seller gave in when he saw the fire enter Omul's face, it actually made him laugh to see the young lad so riled up. It turned out to be a higher price than Omul originally wanted, but the deal was better than anything else they could find.

Thorin watched the hardened look on the lads face when he passed the bag of coins to the seller. His blue eyes were sharp and pinched with agitation as he pocketed the knives in his bag. The seller smiled triumphantly and he counted the coins in his fat hand, waving Omul off rudely.

There were scars in their past, Thorin realized. That would explain their dislike to trading with greedy traders and the fiery look in Omul's eyes. Thorin had also been burned by those who failed to provide help when his people needed, he knew that look of distrust well.

Soon the Misty Mountains rose into view and they were now only a few days away from the Iron Hill Outpost. The weather had cleared up and Omul was encouraged by his sister to have a knife throwing contest. To say the least, Rhul could have beaten her brother by a mile with her eyes blindfolded.

She tossed the knife hilt in her hand, a triumphant look on her face. "I've always been better with throwing and hitting things, brother. It takes skill to hit your mark and not strike it." She threw the knife at the old tree and the force from the throw sent a giant crack through the bark.

Omul gave in and he handed the rest of his throwing knives to Rhul. "It's a good thing your arm has gotten better with the sword though. Maybe soon we will be able to have a real spar."

She rolled her eyes at her brother. For the past few days they had spent their evenings training hard with their weapons, knowing Dunland would somehow require them to fight. Omul was a good teacher for Rhul, but she had evened out on her progress until Thorin stepped in and gave both of them strong tips with the sword. The raven-haired warrior even went as far as to show them new stances and let the two of them fight against him for training. They weren't able to overpower him, but Thorin was impressed with their drive to progress.

"What do you think of him?" asked Omul.

"Who?" Rhul looked over her shoulder to her brother.

"Thorin," he replied exasperatedly. He nodded towards the warrior who was a ways away smoking on his pipe. "What's your take on Thorin, Rhul? You can read people exceptionally well."

She threw another knife and went to retrieve them out of the wood. "Well, I can gather he is not a talkative dwarf. He prefers others to listen and be left alone to his own faults. He is a powerful warrior and a burdened dwarf with a heavy past. As you know, since Da has told us the stories of his oaken shield from his point of view."

She came to where Omul was lying against his saddle and she picked the wood chips out of her blades next to him. "I appreciate his calmness, battle-readiness and natural ability to lead. Though, I do believe he could lighten up a bit on his stubbornness."

"I'm with you there sister," he took a swig from his water skin and handed it to her.

"If anything, I hope he will find closure while looking for his father. I can't imagine what it would be like to suddenly know he may be alive or not, even after all this time."

Her brother hummed in response and rested his head back on the saddle. "Hopefully Da will be able to help him. And aren't you supposed to be cooking dinner?" he asked teasingly.

She hit him on the arm and Omul flinched in response. "I swear you need to pull your own weight around here Omul."

"I do, I swear it. I skinned the rabbits this time."

She scoffed and left her brother to prepare dinner.


The Long Road Home – vol. 2 December: 10 years ago

We have arrived safely to Dain's strong hold with more than we first estimated. Surprisingly this time we did not lose too many of our big horns on this journey. Mother is excited; she knows how Dain likes her rams for the breeding seasons. The more that survived the stronger the war rams will be.

I don't believe I have written about my family's relationship with Dain the dwarf-lord of the East. Lain knew Dain before he became a dwarf-lord and they were good friends in their younger years. When she came across wanders from Erebor who had survived the Battle of Azanulbizar and had become separated from Thorin Oakenshild (Dain's Cousin) she asked Dain if they would be able to allow them refugee in the Iron Hills.

Dain had provided what he could for Erebor's people when they were first chased from the Mountain, but he could not house the remaining thousand in his strong hold. He listened to Lain and allowed them to come and stay. That is how mother met our father Osk, he was one of the survivors from the battle. He was on Thrain's royal guard before he disappeared and helped with the Burned Dwarf services on the battlefield. Lain was drawn to our father, how I still am not sure.

Time has passed and we have kept a healthy relationship with Dain. Osk loves the Iron Hills and he gladly orchestrates much trade for them. Lain is a master breeder of war rams and for a time she even kept a few war boars for Dain, and he gladly bought up the whole herd to use in battle.

In time, the Iron Hills saw what Dain saw in Lain's family and they accepted us in. The Ironfoots are strict about staying in one place and raising a family in a strong hold, which is why they never liked the fact that my family lived in the Misty Mountains. I grew up among the cliffs, peaks, and rivers and not the halls of stone or behind iron gates. Now we are seen as equals and a great asset to the economy in the Iron Hills.

I am looking forward to meeting Dain in person. I hear he is a blood thirsty Dwarf with some of the best battle stories to be told. Mother says even with his fiery personality, he has a caring and loyal heart.


I really liked writing about Sorc. He's my own OC and he is a relative to Roac from the book. Omul and Rhul are really growing on me too, I love writing about their relationship and it will only continue to go deeper into their pasts. So, Omul is worried about the orcs nearing Dunland and what dangers they will prove to Thorin. He has good reason to be worried because Azog is on the prowl and he will soon be asking for Thorin's head.

Read on! And Review, my sister and I work hard on this and would love to hear your thoughts.