AN: OK, I'm ever so fearfully committing myself to a certain chain of events in this chapter, hoping that I've got the timing right. Thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed and bolstered my confidence on the last chapter! I tend towards snark, fluff, and humor, so writing action/violence is pretty new to me. I don't want to be too rough on my boys, though, so let's get this ball rolling! (Even if it winds up going off track a bit)
Kili's blood ran cold. That had always seemed like an empty expression to him, for how could warm blood simply change its state? But now, as he stopped sharply at the top of the small rise above the boggy brook where Pluck's back trail had led them, an icy chill descended and left him numb and reeling.
There were orc tracks everywhere. The only clear prints at all were Pluck's, which had led him back to this stinking pit where his brother had-
No! Don't think that. Don't you dare think that!
Kili forced himself to move down the muddy slope, leaving Brassy and the deer above. You have to look, he thought, feeling dazed. What if Fili is lying out there, hurt, and waiting for you to find him? What if-
He slammed the door on that thought and leapt the rest of the way down. His heart was hammering in his chest as he neared the water's edge, and he began to pace the bank, searching the reed-choked, peaty shore for any sign of his brother or any set of tracks that might break away from the chaotic mire and lead to him, but there were no separate trails on this side of the creek beside Pluck's. Any answers to his brother's fate would have to be looked for on the opposite bank.
Kili was careful not to let the gluey mud pull his boots from his feet as he waded into the deeper water of the creek. He had seen no sign of blood on the bank, and if there had been any spilled here it would have been lost to the water. He couldn't rely on that for a basis of hope.
Looking farther out, his eye was caught by a fleeting flash. Something glimmered dully beneath the surface. Kili lunged toward it and stretched his arm down until the freezing water was up to his shoulder and soaking his cloak and tunic. He cast about in the muck, wrinkling his nose at the thick, gaseous smells that his questing fingers released from the organic brine, and hissed as his hand ran up against something sharp and solid. He fumbled for the object, ignoring the sting of what was sure to be a decent sized gash across his palm and pulled a straight, meticulously honed blade from its sheath of mud. His heart sank as he recognized the uniquely grooved design that adorned his brother's blade.
If Fili was without his weapons...
He pushed the thought away once more and threw up a wall to keep it out. There was no sign of Fili and so Fili was alive, Fili was waiting, he was just-
Kili's stumbled as his foot caught on something else in the mud. He reached down and dragged Fili's boot up out of the muck. "Fili," he breathed. His eyes stung but he would not allow tears. Not without some proof.
Cradling his precious finds, Kili pushed on to the southern bank and dragged himself onto firmer ground. The tracks here were still too convoluted for him to follow, so he fanned out away from the water's edge in search of the goblin's entrance and exit. He finally struck upon their back trail, which led roughly south. Fili must have met up with them when he went to drive the deer, Kili reasoned, then fled here on Pluck before becoming stuck in the stream. The only thing that he could read for sure in their trail was that the goblins had returned the same way that they had come.
There was only one thing that Kili could think to do, and that was to follow. If he went for help, there was no telling what might happen to his brother in the meantime.
He dashed back to Brassy, who was still watching him from the small ridge. Kili tied Fili's sword and boot onto a side strap and urged the pony downstream a ways until it seemed possible for him to pass without becoming stuck. As Brassy splashed through the stony shallows, Kili saw a dark lump bobbing among the roots of an oak that had stretched itself thirstily into the water.
No no no no no...That's not what you think it is, That's not him, Kili chanted mentally as he pulled Brassy to the side and plunged forward. As he reached the oak, he belted out a laugh that bordered on the edge of hysteria. Goblins! Not his brother, but the bodies of two filthy, stinking goblins! One was sporting a smashed-in nose and the other was without a head, and Kili thought he knew who might have been responsible for their current sorry conditions.
So there had been a fight, that much was obvious. His brother had taken two of the bastards down and was missing, but Pluck had managed to escape. It wasn't very likely that the goblins would bother to haul a dead dwarf back to their camp, so Fili must still be alive! They must have been afraid that his missing horse would alert any others that Fili might have been traveling with to his situation and bring them to search the woods. It was likely that they had taken him back to question, hoping to find his camp before that happened.
With hope renewed, Kili cut back around the shore, leading Brassy, and picked up the orcs' trail. He would find his brother, and to hell with everything else.
The sun was making its final descent in the sky, and beneath the dim cover of swaying oaks it was becoming difficult for the dwarf search party to discern Kili's trail. A confusion of tracks littered the ground, and Thorin was at a loss as to what to make of them.
"Spread out," he commanded tersely, and with the others plunged down the bank to circle around the mess.
While following Kili's trail north, the four dwarves had caught sight of Pluck ambling slowly back toward camp through a break in the trees. Fili was nowhere to be seen, and after ascertaining that the exhausted pony could offer them no further clues, they had allowed Pluck to continue on to the campsite. The worried dwarves had then followed the path back to the rocky scarp where Kili had waited to ambush the deer, and had seen the small pool of blood where it had fallen after he shot it. After that, things had stopped making sense. Instead of heading back to camp with his prize, Kili had taken it and Brassy back into the woods. Why hadn't Fili met up with them there? They should have been headed back to camp together, in the same direction that Pluck had been going.
Thorin led the others into the woods after his nephew once more, this time with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with his growing hunger.
Now they stood on the same rise where Kili had been an hour before, peering down from among the trees in horror at what they saw. The tracks, most definitely those of a band of goblins, were grouped tightly more or less within a circle around the small bog. Thorin and the others traced around the outside, all coming to the same conclusion; The goblins had come and gone by the same route, and nowhere could his nephew's footprints be distinguished from amid their myriad of prints.
What could that mean? Both Pluck and Brassy had clearly been through here; Had the lads been together then, and had they even been there at the same time as the orcs? Thorin shook his head. He was not enough of a woodsman to read the answers he craved in this stinking mess of earth. All he knew was that there were no bodies, and that the orcs would have stripped them of their weapons and left them where they had fallen had Fili and Kili been killed here. Thorin was not optimistic enough to believe that they had simply crossed paths at different times. They must have been involved in the fray; dumb luck and chance were not likely enough to rely on.
His one consolation was this; If the goblins had taken the boys with them, it was because they were still alive. There was no other reason. It was a cold comfort, but the thin scrim of hope that it afforded him was better than none at all.
"Thorin," Bofur called. He was standing with his cousin over to one side of the orc's trail with a timid smile and his mild eyes sparkling hopefully. "I think you should see this." Bifur laughed a little oddly, and Bofur placed a gently restraining hand on his cousin's shoulder.
Thorin joined the pair on a thick carpet of vibrant green moss. Cut sharply into the verdant expanse were hoof-prints, heading to the south. Brassy! Thorin realized incredulously. Something very close to pride flared like a wildfire in his chest. He wouldn't discount his lads yet!
The pony's trail continued, and where it bisected the path of the goblins, Brassy's prints remained clearly on top; Kili had followed this way after the orcs, and he must have been free at the time.
The slim flare of hope that had sparked in Thorin's heart dwindled down to a flicker. What did the fool boy hope to achieve alone against an army of twenty or more goblins? It would be just like Kili to leap from the bushes, brandishing his sword and expecting to take on the lot of them single-handed and instead getting himself killed.
Swallowing this last tiny flame, Thorin hardened his face into a featureless mask. They had to catch up to Kili before he found his way to that camp. Both boys lives very likely depended on it.
"Ride hard!" he called, swinging himself up onto Surly's back and digging in his heels without wasting time on explanations. King and pony surged ahead, and the others hastily scrambled to mount and follow. The quartet thundered down the orc-trampled trail, beards and braids flying like banners over their shoulders. Thorin silently prayed with all of his heart that they wouldn't be too late.
The seconds ticked by and no finishing blow came. Fili wasn't sure how long he waited before deducing that something must have occurred to deflect it. Through the pounding rush of blood in his ears he heard raised goblin voices in the distance and he wrenched his eyes back open.
Goliath was gone, and without him there to block his view Fili could see that total pandemonium had broken out in the camp below.
Goblins were locked together in animated scuffles, shouting and yelling and hurling any object within arm's reach at one another. Some rushed about grabbing up spears and bows, and a few shoving matches had broke out near one of the fires. Nettor stood in their midst, observing the chaos with a coolly appraising eye, and motioning for his second to join him.
Goliath had hastened down the hill path to his leader's side as soon as the fighting had broken out, cutting short Fili's painful 'lesson'.
"The stag!" came a cry. "The dwarf tells the truth, there is a stag near!"
The stag? Fili thought through his pained daze. What the hell was going on? Hadn't Kili managed to shoot that damned thing after all that he had been through? A slightly crazed laugh escaped his ruined lips and his guard sidled nervously away. Truly, this yellow dwarf was mad.
A chorus of plaintive voices broke out below. "We saw it! We needs food! We ain't 'et for days!"
"Quiet!" Goliath roared. "You fools won't get a shred if you don't shut your gobs!"
He grabbed one of the tussling orcs from amid a tangle of flailing scrawny arms and legs and heaved it across the campground. The wailing orc hit the ground with a startled "Whuff!" as the wind was knocked from him and he found himself staring at the black toes of Nettor's boots.
Nettor moved swiftly, whipping his hooked, curved blade from his belt in one smooth motion, and cleanly beheaded the prostrate orc. The unfortunate goblin's head was sent rolling, and flung a trail of black ichor from its severed neck across the trampled ground before fetching up against the side of a stone fire ring with a meaty thud. A thick silence descended over the camp.
"Perhaps one of you has something of sense that they would like to say," said Nettor quietly. His voice carried easily to the edges of the frozen camp despite his dangerously low tone. No one answered.
Finally, from the bottom of the pile of remaining tangled orcs came a pleading voice.
"It went for the wide end of the creek!" cried the only orc foolhardy enough to speak up after Nettor's cruel display. "We can trap it there! It'll bog down or turn back, and either way we can be waiting!"
"So you're hungry," Nettor hissed scathingly, kicking aside the floundering underling. "Do you expect me to feed you? Are you weak little babes that need to be coddled and spoon fed?"
Heads shook violently in denial.
"No? Then do something about it! Get the damned deer!"
There was a combined roar and the flurry of activity renewed, this time with no fights or arguments, and half of the camp organized itself into a wall of armed hunters. They fanned out into the woods and tramped off until Fili could no longer hear their hungry cackles and jeers.
Calm settled over the remaining goblins once their fellows had gone. Most drifted off to the outskirts of the encampment to rest until the hunters could return with fresh meat. A few returned to stoking the fires in the hopes that there would shortly be a roast hanging over them. Nettor and Goliath stood to one side for a long while, discussing Aule knew what. Finally Nettor dismissed his giant and settled down at his own fireside and seemed to go to sleep.
Goliath was returning. Fili swallowed roughly and pushed back at the sudden jolt of nerves that threatened to overrun his sense. Get him mad, Fili coached himself. Get him angry enough to finish the job before the other comes back. Goliath was all fists and no thought, but if their cunning leader were allowed another chance with him then he was sure that, even if he did not break, he would slip up at some point and endanger everyone that he loved.
Fili straightened up, knowing that the easiest way to enrage the giant was a display of unbending pride. He hissed at the pain his movement caused and almost missed the sound of an early evening owl calling from the trees beyond the camp.
A brown owl. There are no brown owls this far north...
His heart rocketed a mile in his chest before the gravity of the situation brought it crashing back down. Kili! he wanted to scream, Get out of here, you damned fool! What the hell was his brother thinking? Had he gone back for the others? Was he here alone?
A sharp clarity was returning, and Fili was able to analyze his many hurts. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs as far as he was able. There was no sharp, splintered feeling in his side, only a heated, dull ache. His ribs were bruised, but not broken. His head pounded, his lips were split and bleeding, and one eye was rapidly beginning to swell shut. Wiggling his hands behind him brought bad news. The biting ropes had cut off all feeling from his wrist down; Even if he were freed, if it came to a fight, he wouldn't be able to hold a weapon.
He very much hoped that Kili wasn't here alone.
