15/01/19: Hi again. Longer break this time between updates, but I got it done in the end. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I only own Ira :( (but I would be very willing to take the rest from Tolkien if he wants me to ;) )
A/N: Apologies for the shortness of this chapter. It was originally going to be a whole chapter with the next one, but I decided that was too long, so cut it in half. On the plus side, it means to chapters at once.
Big thanks to: kitsun91, Death's Inevitable Kiss, Catdragon513 and SmilingDragonDino for following/favouriting this fic.
Review response(s):
MichaelMarxxMann: I figured keeping Odahviing in Middle Earth would make things far more interesting. I'm glad you agree. Thanks :)
'Nobody': (Lovely name by the way). If I do decide to add some Daedric Prince(s) it probably won't be until the end. I can imagine Alduin's response to a Daedric Prince will be 'I'm the first-born of Akatosh, I am superior to you' or something like that. Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of Madness... That would be a little cruel, don't you think? Don't get me wrong, he's an awesome guy, but I think there's enough madness and strangeness in the company as it is. Glad you're enjoying it!
Chapter 7:
Ira was unsurprised by the fact that she was largely ignored upon returning to the camp. Those who were still awake seemed more interested in keeping themselves entertained in other ways, or keeping a look-out for Kili. Fili gave her a short nod when she returned – about the only acknowledgement she got from anyone – before he returned his eyes to where they'd been staring into the trees. No doubt that was the spot Kili disappeared into when he'd gone on his hair-brained chase after Ira.
Ira said nothing to him as she trudged back to her bedroll, unbuckling her sword from her waist, and then lying down on the rough material. She stared up at the unfamiliar stars until she fell asleep.
Morning came upon with a pale but warm sun, casting hues of gold and orange across the sky. They were up with the dawn, eating a quick breakfast and then packing away their camp when Thorin barked out the order that they were to leave.
As they travelled through the Shire, dark storm clouds began to gather up ahead. Ira watched their steady progress towards them, and was not surprised that a torrential downpour was dumped on top of them as midday loomed nearer.
Tilting her head skyward, Ira revelled in the feeling of the cool water on her skin. It reminded her of Skyrim – or, at the very least, the southern half of it. The trees, the wind, the rain… It all culminated together to create a sensory experience that Ira was all too familiar with, and found she had missed in the past days.
The dwarves, however, seemed less than enthusiastic about this change of weather, grumbling and complaining even as they dug through their packs to find their coats. All of them were soaked through by lunchtime, some notably more than others.
They ate on their ponies' backs, huddling over their bread in an attempt to shield it from the rain. There was very little chatter amongst the group, most of them disappearing into their cloaks and hoods as much as possible, hiding from the downpour. Even that would only do so much for them.
Poor Bilbo looked halfway drained – he had no water-resistant clothing, and his coat had long since become saturated with rainwater. His hair was stuck to the sides of his face, and he wore a permanent scowl as he fixed the road ahead with an irritated glower.
Dori, too, was looking particularly miserable, and presently he called up the line, "Here, Mister Gandalf! Can't you do anything about this deluge?"
Gandalf tilted his head back towards the dwarf, ignoring the torrent of water that slid off the wide brim of his hat, and gave a pleasant smile. He, besides Ira (and perhaps Bofur), seemed least upset with the rain. "It is raining, Master Dwarf," the wizard stated calmly. "And it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you must find yourself another wizard."
"Are there any?" Bilbo piped up from where he was riding alongside the man in grey.
"Any what?"
"Other wizards."
Gandalf let out a hum. "There are five," he said, turning his gaze forwards again. "The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. Then there are two blue wizards…" He paused, bushy eyebrows. "Do you know, I've quite forgotten their names."
"And the fifth?" Bilbo questioned.
"Ah, well, that would be Radagast. The Brown."
Bilbo cocked an eyebrow. "And is he a great wizard, or is he… more like you?"
Ira had to bite her lip to stop a snort of laughter escaping, though her eyes still shone with amusement, and when she met Bofur's as he glanced back, the two shared a grin with one another.
Gandalf released a loud huff, looking rather put-out. "I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way." Which, Ira had come to learn, often meant the guy was borderline insane. "He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals over human beings. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the east, and a good thing too, for evil will always look to find a foothold in the world."
There was something about the tone in Gandalf's voice – a strange mix of warning and dread – that had warning bells ringing in Ira's head. Before she had the chance to ask him about it, however, a Shout rent the air and shook the ground beneath their feet.
"Lok Vah Koor!"
Alduin had fallen to the back of the line some time ago, shortly after the rain had started. It was from him that the Shout came, his deep voice adding a sense of great power to it; one which had a shiver racing down Ira's spine, and something deep inside her, a presence she recognised only too easily, shifted.
She glanced back at him as the rain stopped and the clouds cleared under the power of his Shout, pondering her body's reaction. Perhaps that wasn't quite right. Perhaps it was simply that her inner dragon soul had recognised the Voice of its overlord – because, human form or no, that's exactly what Alduin was.
Either way, she wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it. The fact that Alduin could still Shout was probably a good thing – it was a tie to his old life, and a Shout was always useful in battle. Still, her reaction to it worried her. She hadn't felt her dragon soul stir like this in hundreds of years.
From behind her, Alduin noticed she was eyeing him, and met her gaze. His own eyes narrowed, though he didn't seem overtly hostile. Ira cocked her head to the side, but when her dragon soul gave no further acknowledgement of the World Eater, she gave a mental shrug and turned to face the front again.
Alduin's Shout successfully cleared the storm for the rest of the day, giving the group plenty of time to dry and shake off their dour moods. Well, most of them. Thorin seemed shorter than usual, his brows set more heavily over his eyes. No one risked going too near to him.
The sun was setting over the western horizon when they made camp that day. They'd spotted a deserted farmhouse just off the path from where they'd been riding, and Thorin directed his pony towards it. In their usual fashion, the others had followed behind without a word.
Ira could feel unease building in her stomach as she jumped out of the saddle, her hands holding Shadowmere's reins with a tighter grip than normal. Her eyes scanned the ruin before her.
The building itself was barely more than a cracked shell, its timber beams showing and half of its walls in pieces. With her mind only half present, she let go of Shadowmere and wandered up to the farmhouse. A corner of her mind registered that Gandalf and Thorin were arguing about something, but she was too focused on the house to really acknowledge what it was she was hearing.
The stone of the house was strong – a type of granite, she thought. A building like this could survive millennia in the elements and not go into such disrepair. She briefly considered that a fire could have destroyed this farmer's house, but a glance up at the beams immediately told her otherwise. The timber was old and almost as strong as the walls themselves, but there was no sign of fire damage or charring on the surface. Not mention there was very little chance a fire would cause the walls to collapse.
All this led her to one conclusion: something had broken these walls. Something large. Something powerful. An army would not waste using a battering ram on a simple home like this, and there was no city within view, so it was not likely to have been part of some age-old skirmish. Whatever it was that had caused this damage was itself a living creature. A creature… roughly the size of a giant, or a mammoth.
Ira's eyes flicked up when Gandalf disappeared out of the ruin in a flourish of grey robes and righteous anger, Thorin's glare following him out.
"Where are you going?" Bilbo asked, visibly alarmed by the wizard's swift movements.
"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," Gandalf snapped in response.
Bilbo blinked. "Who's that?"
"Myself, Master Baggins!"
As Gandalf left the camp, a dark cloud over his heard, he muttered something under his breath. Ira was too far away from him to hear what it was he said, though by his mood, she could imagine it wasn't all that complimentary.
Her attention was stolen when Oin and Gloin called to her. The two brothers were trying to get a fire going, but considering all the firewood that had been gathered was still wet from the earlier rain, they couldn't get it to catch.
"You're part dragon, right?" Gloin asked, his voice brusque and his general demeanour slightly unfriendly. "Anything you could do to help?" He waved a hand at the pile of soggy sticks in front of him.
Ira raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged. "Sure," she said, "though you might want to stand back." They did so, a few of the other dwarves nearby watching in interest. Ira knelt in front of the fire, and let a Shout build up in her chest.
"Yol!"
A jet of flames formed from the air in front of her lips, though it was considerably smaller than if she'd used the full strength of the Shout. The fire engulfed the sticks in front of her, and was hot enough to burn away the external moisture in them, allowing them to light. Ira pulled her head away from the smoke that erupted from them, before standing. She barely acknowledged the brothers' quiet thanks as she walked away, a dark figure's retreating form taking her attention.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Alduin froze in his step, his shoulders tense and arms taut even as they hung at his sides. "To think," he told her gruffly.
Ira hesitated a moment, then said, "Be careful. Whatever it was that destroyed that farmhouse may still be out there, and whatever it was, it was not insignificant. Call if you have need of aid."
Alduin glanced back at her over his shoulder, amber eyes burning in the light of the campfire. He seemed resentful at first, no doubt not liking her insinuation that he may not be able to handle a fight on his own, before his expression cleared of all emotion. Without saying a word, he gave a single, sharp nod, and then stepped out of the reach of the firelight.
Night had set in by the time their food was ready, the meat stew wafting a pleasant scent through the air and causing a fair few stomachs to rumble in eager anticipation. Ira thanked the rotund chef for her portion, grinning when he beamed up at her. Bombur seemed like a cheerful fellow, and didn't seem as bothered by her as some of the others did. He and his brother had that in common.
She ate her meal alone, though she wasn't bothered by this. She amused herself by watching the antics of the Company, the laughter and jokes that sprung up between them. Even Thorin seemed to be in a better mood by the time they finished eating, having a quiet conversation with Dwalin and Balin, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Ira smiled at Ori as he appeared to take her bowl from her, offering a quiet thanks, before she began to make preparations to sleep. It wasn't especially late in the evening, but the sky was dark and with a comfortably full belly, she was feeling a little drowsy.
She was just lying down to rest when Fili and Kili burst into the camp, looking frantic. Thorin was on his feet in an instant, frown adorning his face.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Trolls," Fili answered quickly. "Three of them, we think. They stole our ponies-"
"-And Bilbo went after them."
"And you let him go alone?" Ira snarled, interrupting whatever it was that Thorin was about to say. "Hi hefhah! He has no means to defend himself! He will get slaughtered!"
Kili was shaking his head. "No, no, he'll be fine. Bilbo's small and sneaky-"
"Against three, he stands no chance," Thorin stated firmly, taking Ira's side. "The chances of him remaining unseen are slim to none." Nodding, Ira drew her sword and started heading into the trees to get him, but Thorin's voice held her back. "We cannot go there without a plan."
Ira scoffed. "I've survived over half a millennium without making plans. Besides, we can't simply leave Bilbo out there alone. So, whether you come with me or not is your choice. But I'm going, and I'm going now."
As soon as she was in the cover of the trees Ira ducked into a crouch, darting from shadow to shadow swiftly but silently, the enchantments of her boots allowing her to walk silently even in the thick undergrowth.
Following a sixth sense she'd possessed for most of her life, Ira eventually made it to the trolls' camp, just in time to see one reach back, grab a grubby piece of scrap material (and Bilbo at the same time), and sneeze into it. A grimace flashed across her face as he drew his hand back, the startled halfling covered in slimy troll snot.
Ira couldn't help but tilt her head to the side as her eyes scanned the beasts in front of her. They were nothing like the trolls she was familiar with – they were taller and more humanoid, and distinctly less hairy.
While Ira internally debated the best way to kill these behemoths, she became aware of the Company appearing beside her, keeping impressively quiet considering they were naturally heavy-footed and large in number.
"Kili," Thorin hissed to his nephew, who was on Ira's other side, "we need to get Bilbo away from the trolls before he attack them. Can you distract them, draw him away?"
Kili swallowed, grasped his sword, and then launched himself from within the trees. He ran at the trolls, slicing the leg of one of them, before stopping and giving a wild grin when they whirled on him. He gave his sword a cocky twirl.
"Drop him!"
The trolls blinked stupidly. "You what?"
Kili's expression darkened. "I said… drop him!"
After a glance at the wide-eyed halfling in his hand, the troll hurled Bilbo straight towards Kili. Kili, with reflexes that impressed her inwardly, dropping his sword and held his arms out to catch him, though in the end they both went tumbling to the ground in a mess of tangled limbs.
It was then that the rest of the Company charged out from the trees, catching Ira by surprise, many shouting out battle cries.
With the trolls distracted, Ira took the opportunity to climb a tree, not having to worry about the moving branches catching the trolls' attention. She climbed until she was high enough to be roughly level with the trolls' heads, and as soon as one got close enough, she leapt forward.
The landing wasn't clean by any means, but she wasn't instantly knocked off the troll's shoulders and so was able to jam her sword into the soft flesh above the beast's collar bone. Another troll, who responded to the first's wails, gave an indignant squawk and tried to bat her off. Ira leapt towards the ground and rolled to wear off her momentum, giving an internal laugh when she heard the troll's fist make contact with its friend's head.
Ira was on her feet again in moments, weaving in and out of the dwarves and slashing at any skin she could reach. The enchantment of her sword had a curious effect on the creatures – the frost would travel a few inches up their legs, leaving icy tendrils, before melting and fading away. If the trolls felt the cold, they didn't show it.
"Stop!" Ira whirled around, teeth bared, but halted when she saw Bilbo had been caught and was being held by two of the trolls with his arms and legs splayed. "Lay down your arms, or we'll rip his off."
The Dragonborn knew she had more power here than the others – there were other ways she could fight that didn't involve a sword. But her wolf had gone quiet after being let out so recently, and Ira wouldn't dare risk a Shout as there was too great a chance it would hit Bilbo.
Thorin was the first to move, slamming the point of his sword into the ground. The other's threw down their weapons as well, following their leader bravely despite it playing into the hands of the trolls.
Ira held onto Chillrend a moment longer, trying desperately to find a way to get them out of this. But she could think of nothing. Calling Odahviing was too dangerous; the Shout could well startle the trolls into accidentally tugging too hard on Bilbo's extremities and pulling them off. Or maybe they would assume the loud noise was a threat and do it anyway. Having Alduin nearby would have been a great help, but she had no idea where he was and had no way all calling him, either. At this point, it was safer for him to stay away than it was to come after them.
Ira felt the breath leave her lungs with a great huff as a troll grabbed her around the waist, shoving her feet-first into a sack without ceremony. It then hauled her towards the rest of the group, dumping her on the ground with little care that it hurt her. Her head smacked against the solid stone, and she let out a string of curses in the dragon tongue.
Her head pounding, Ira released a long groan as the rest of the Company were sacked and either thrown on the pile with her or tied to a roasting spit over the campfire. Though her hands and legs were free, the sack was too tight for her to be able to reach the daggers tucked into her armour in various places. She was powerless, defenceless, and, most annoyingly, completely out of ideas.
"You know," she said to the air, though she was sure a few of the dwarves were listening, "I think we might be in a little bit of trouble."