Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. I started college in August and I thought I would have the time to write, but once I got into the semester, I had too much work to really write anything. But it's now the end of classes and I have time! Downside will be that I won't have internet from December 12-January 21st, so there will be no posted updates as far as I know. However, I promise to have a chapter ready when I get back to school!
Thank you for all the reviews in my absence as well as follows/favorites! It means so much to me that you guys are reading this. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was definitely difficult to write with writer's block.
As usual, I do not own anything of the Hobbit universe or the Skyrim universe except for Anais and her story.
"We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us," protested Balin as Anais laid out her bedroll along a smooth wall within the cave. Balin's voice was lowered as to not alarm the others, but her ears picked it up easily. Her ember eyes flashed to Balin and Thorin standing together as Thorin turned his head to Balin.
"Plans change," he replied with a shrug. He moved away, calling over his shoulder for Bofur to take the first watch. Anais watched as Balin stared after Thorin, looking terribly worried. As Balin's eyes turned to her, she dropped her gaze. Since the incident at Rivendell, Thorin had ignored her while the others were merely curious of her. She could see their apprehension and their reluctance to trust her, but they hid it well behind warm jokes and easy gestures. Anais frowned as she smoothed the rough material of her bedroll, the faint scent of smoke and nirnroot floating through the air to tickle at her senses. Almost immediately, she could feel the cold fingers of homesickness pull at her heart and Anais nibbled at the inside of her cheek to keep the tears in check.
She had been in Middle-earth for nearly a year and a half. Skyrim had no less faded from her memory than if she had been gone only a day. Her heart yearned for the familiar plains of Whiterun, the snowy hills of Winterhold and Windhelm, and for the bustling streets of Solitude. But more importantly, she missed the easy way of life in Raven Rock that she had established for herself in the last year she had spent in Skyrim. She missed sassy old Neloth from Tel Mithryn who would come down into Raven Rock once a year or so for one reason or another. She missed shy young Drovas in the Retching Netch who always would listen to her stories. But most of all, she missed that sly mercenary Teldryn Sero who would always try to one-up her with every experience or story.
As the night wore down and the others began to settle down into sleep, Anais' thoughts were filled with nothing but home.
The hours slowly ticked by as the driving rain pounded on the mountainside, resonating within the tiny cave that the company had settled into for the night. Without a dying fire to keep them warm, the dwarves huddled closer together to maintain their warmth. Anais had allowed Bilbo to lean against her for the time being, but at some point in the night, she felt his warmth leave her. As her eyes flickered open slightly, the faint strains of a hushed conversation reached her ears.
"You can't turn back now, eh? You're part of the company. You're one of us," protested a familiar voice, which Anais recognized as Bofur. Her eyelids fluttered as she pretended to sleep. Who was he speaking to?
"I'm not, though, am I?" replied his companion, sounding weary and worn. Bilbo was leaving? "Thorin said I should never have come and he was right." Anais' heart sunk as she heard the hobbit sigh. He really had taken to heart the harsh words Thorin had spewed earlier. Silently she cursed at herself for not standing up for the young hobbit as he continued, "I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins. I don't know what I was thinking… I should never have run out my door."
"You're homesick. I understand," Bofur answered, trying to soothe the silently distraught Bilbo. Anais opened her eyes slightly, catching the blank gaze of Thorin from across the room. Her brow furrowed in irritation as she kept herself from leaping across the small cave at their leader in fear of revealing herself as an eavesdropper.
"No, you don't!" protested Bilbo, his voice raising. "You don't understand. None of you do. You're Dwarves, you're used to this life… to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere!" He hesitated. "Anais doesn't understand either, even if she tries to. You're all the same."
Anais stared at the wall ahead of her just above Thorin's head. She didn't understand yearning for home? Bilbo had been gone from home for only a few months. She had been gone for almost two years now. He had no clue of what homesickness was. She clenched her fists to her sides and turned her head to stare at the ceiling. She could hear Bilbo stumbling through an apology, but Bofur brushed it off.
"No, you're right," he replied. After a pause, his voice echoed through the cave and she could tell he was looking around at them. "We don't belong anywhere." When he spoke again, his voice was soft yet sincere and Anais' heart ached for the hurt that hid behind his words. "I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do."
Anais closed her eyes, slowing her breathing as she heard Bilbo turn to leave. Only when Bofur, alarm in his voice, asked Bilbo a question did her eyes shoot back open. "What's that?"
In the silence that followed, Anais could hear a sound almost like a snake or steam escaping from a boiling pot, only quieter. Following it was the creak of wooden beams, gentle and easy to miss. She sat up, ember eyes searching the ground for the source.
A crack, sand seeping through it to the unknown, was splitting the group in half, opening its maw wide as the company was startled awake. Before any of them could move, the ground swung downward, throwing each member of the company down into the abyss.
She must have hit her head somewhere on the way down, for when Anais opened her eyes, they were piled on top of each other in the midst of a rickety wooden structure built over a deep ravine. Anais had landed last, Bilbo landing just to her right. She looked below her, seeing the rest of the dwarves regaining their senses. She spun over, putting her hands and knees into Gloin. She looked around them at their surroundings, quickly taking it all in.
They were inside the mountain, no doubt in the clutches of some mountain dwelling peoples. Her thoughts went immediately to the draugr and Falmer of Skyrim's deepest reaches and she instinctively shuddered. Hopefully Middle Earth had less atrocious beings dwelling deep beneath her mountain ranges. Around them were torches set up every several feet, making up for the lack of natural light deep down in the earth. Wooden bridges and walkways clung to the walls of the mountain, held up by rickety ropes and beams.
Shrieks and wild calls from behind her alerted her to their visitors. She rolled to the side off of Gloin as Ori shouted, "Look out!" Anais barely had time to reach for her bow as her eyes connected with slimy little ugly creatures mobbing toward them only a few feet away. The creatures bowled the company over, flattening them beneath grabby fingers and disgusting little bodies. Anais used her fists as she punched the nearest one in the stomach, knocking it into the grabbing fray. There seemed to be little order among their captors as they punched, bit, scratched and bullied the dwarves, hobbit, and elf into standing positions and pushed them out of the trap that they had fallen into. Anais stood several heads taller than the little annoying creatures, but their grip was strong. She could feel one scratching at the back of her knee and another pulling at her elbow as she was forced along behind the others, who were proudly fighting back. However, it didn't seem to do much good for they were herded onto a rickety pathway like cattle. At least they were defiant, angry cattle.
They rounded a turn, several dwarves fighting their captors along the way. Anais turned her head to look for Bilbo, only to be met with the sight of the tail end of their troupe. She frantically thrashed at the creatures around her, raising her voice over the shrieks and loud screams of their captors. "Where's Bilbo?"
None answered her, each preoccupied with their own creature, who was keeping them unhappily distracted. Anais glanced behind her again, hoping the young hobbit had not been pushed off of the edge in all the confusion. Behind her, one of the creatures leaped on its companion's shoulders and grunted as he put a slimy fist into the side of her cheek. Anais stumbled, crying out at the surprising force the little creature had in its small fist. She felt a rough shove from behind and she forced herself to stay upright. She quickly reached up for her cowl's face cloth and hooked it back where it had been. Her ember eyes were reduced to only pinpricks, the shadow of Nocturnal shielding her face.
Inside, a soul roared in anger, shouting fire and death upon the creatures. Outside, Anais kept her posture straight, allowing herself to creep into anonymity. There would be time later to react. Right now, she needed to be calm.
They were herded down several bridges and pathways built across the ravine, one such pathway opening up into a larger cavern, crisscrossed with wooden bridges and torch-lit platforms. On one such platform several yards away sat a structure of some sort, one Anais couldn't make out. As the creatures pushed them along, she found herself beside Kili.
"What are these things?" she growled from beneath the cowl.
He spared her a brief glance, answering shortly. "Goblins," he replied under his breath as he beat back one of the goblins as it lunged at his midsection. Anais looked down at some of the creatures shoving against her knees, eyes drifting over the disgusting features. Nothing was that ugly in Skyrim.
They made their way up to the platform where the formation came to a jerking halt before a makeshift wooden throne, upon which sat a heaving, stinking sack of flesh that Anais could only assume was the goblins' leader. Grabbing hands swept her bow from her, feeling along her legs as far as the short creatures could reach and confiscating every dagger and weapon on her person. As she lunged for the one who carried her Nightingale bow toward the front of the crowd, another punched her square in the jaw. Kili caught her by the arm as she stumbled back, her hand going to her throbbing jaw through her cowl.
"They may be small, but damn, do they pack a strong punch," she muttered to the dwarf as he looked up at her, concern reflected in his large brown eyes. "I'll be fine. I have suffered far worse."
Before them, the large goblin heaved himself off of his makeshift throne, stomping several crouched tinier goblins into the woodwork beneath his feet. "Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" he bellowed, stringy spit flying from his mouth as he spoke. "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"
Anais grinned slightly. Two out of three.
"Dwarves, Your Malevolence," barked a goblin from the front.
"Dwarves?" The fat one glanced from dwarf to dwarf, his eyes passing over her easily.
"We found them on the front porch."
"Well, don't just stand there," the fat one said, gesturing to the dwarves widely. "Search them!" The tiny goblins pushed and shoved their way through the tiny pack of dwarves, resuming their rough handling of the thirteen. Anais spotted the one who had punched her in the jaw earlier, and he gave her a sly smirk. She growled deep in her throat, feeling Kili's hand on her arm
"What are you doing in these parts?" she heard the Goblin King ask, his eyes darting around the pack of dwarves again. "Speak!" When his demand was met by silence, he scowled. "Very well. If they will not talk, we'll make them squawk!" he bellowed to the expanse behind him, much to the amusement of the other goblins, who erupted into guttural cheers. "Bring up the mangler! Bring up the bonebreaker!" He turned back the dwarves, pointing his gnarled finger at Ori. "Start with the youngest."
"WAIT!" Thorin's yell silenced the entire cavern, all eyes turning toward the dwarf prince. Anais followed him with her eyes as he stepped toward the Goblin King, determination in each step.
"Well, well, well… look who it is." The Goblin King chuckled. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror… King under the Mountain." He swept low in a mocking bow. "Oh, but I'm forgetting. You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king… which makes you… nobody, really." He snorted as his voice lowered, stepping toward Thorin. His bloodshot, filmy eyes looked the dwarf over as he continued, "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just a head… nothing attached." He laughed. "Perhaps you know of whom I speak - an old enemy of yours. A pale Orc astride a white Warg…"
"Azog the Defiler was destroyed." Thorin's voice sounded as if it came through gritted teeth. The Goblin King's mouth began to crinkle into a knowing smirk. "He was slain in battle long ago."
"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" The King asked as he chuckled again. He turned to a tiny goblin sitting in a wood and cloth swing attached to a long rope strung across the expanse of the cavern. "Send word to the pale Orc," he ordered. "Tell him I have found his prize."
