Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters
Chapter Nine
The day dawned with a bright grey sky overhead, and a swift breeze which chilled the skin. Miluiel had woken before most of the company had stirred from their dreams, and had managed to pack away the last of her things, before beginning with their fire. She quickly dismantled the cooking pot, laying down the components quietly, before scooping the ashes into a well-ordered pile and neatly collecting together the dry wood they had not used. She absently brushed her fingers to her forehead as she looked over the sleeping Dwarves, smiling as her eyes skipped over the hunched forms of Fili and Kili, before she locked eyes with a thunderous Thorin.
He was sitting atop his bedroll, fists clenched around the mouth of his pack as he angrily stuffed his belongings inside. His eyes had been drawn to the fluttering movements of her pale hands; his interest had been piqued as he watched her, which in turn caused his annoyance to rise at his own awareness of her. What was she to him? A simple inconvenience and nothing more, yet why was he watching her? Why did he find secret enjoyment in seeing the way the dappled light melted over her slim fingers, and how she cocked her head when she smiled? What was so intriguing about the way her hair moved in an autumnal curtain about her shoulders? And why was he so enamoured with her, even with a dirty streak of ash dust upon her brow?
He watched her as she finished tidying their dead fire and looked about herself, catching sight of a small smile when she encountered his nephews' sleeping forms. It was then that her grey eyes had bobbed up to meet his own, and inwardly he sucked in a breath. The dark lashes that ringed her eyes made the pale grey irises stand out in her bleak little face, her expression morphing from contentment, to faint horror, and settling into mild disinterest in a matter of seconds. She was the first of them to avert her gaze, deciding instead to reach out one of her slim hands and connect with the nearest sleeping Dwarf, prodding them awake.
Thorin turned to the form lying next to him and jostled the muscular shoulder quickly, bringing Dwalin forth from the land of dreams with a loud snort.
"Eh?" he said, brushing spittle from his lower lip and sitting up quickly. "Oh, still with the blasted tree-huggers, are we?"
Thorin's lips quivered, before his expression diverted back to annoyance, "Wake the others. We should be on our way soon."
Miluiel had been prodding the Dwarves during this exchange, so half of the company were already surfacing. They flexed their stiff joints and rubbed their sleep-filled eyes, before sitting up and collecting their belongings together.
The night before, Bombur had had the presence of mind to prepare their breakfasts, and began distributing bread and cheese, along with a few cold sausages, into eagerly awaiting hands. Miluiel gratefully took her ration and sank her white teeth into the sausages, before wrapping her bread and cheese in a handkerchief and putting it in her pack for later. She felt sure that there would be a time when she would find need of the extra food, if not for herself then certainly for one of the hungry company surrounding her.
Her brow had furrowed as she heard the Elves described so delicately as 'tree-huggers', but she felt no desire to comment on the disrespectful terminology, especially as their leader seemed to be in foul spirits that morning. As with every other morning, she supposed quietly to herself.
Having eaten their fill, the Dwarves began to stand, heaving heavy packs on their backs and moving about together. Thorin had been on his feet for a while, conversing in low tones with his two resident advisors, before he turned to the group en masse.
"We leave now. Be swift and as silent as you can, there is no need for our hosts to know of our departure," his voice dripped with ill-concealed disdain, and his eyes fell on Miluiel, as if she would be the one to crash about loudly and shout their intentions to all the Elves of Middle-Earth without a second thought. She rolled her eyes and offered her hand down to Bilbo, heaving him to his feet before falling into step behind Bofur. The aforementioned Dwarf turned to her and grinned, his eyes twinkling.
"Now, I wonder what has gotten our dear Thorin into such a black mood today?" he grinned again, patting her shoulder gently and pushing her ahead of himself, "Off you go lass, must be swift!"
She laughed quietly, stifling it with the back of her hand, before smiling widely at Bofur. He in turn bobbed his head at her, a blush creeping up his neck and under his beard to reach his cheeks. The flaps of his hat leapt about as he moved, pushing her forward again until she met with a wall of shoulder belonging to Fili. He swung around and held out an arm, motioning for her to walk between himself and his brother. She ducked under and smiled, patting her braids nervously. "Thank you again, for these," she said, her voice soft as down, "It is definitely more convenient."
"And so stylish!" Kili threw over his shoulder as he marched ahead of her. She grinned again and continued on with their hike, watching alternately her own feet and the feet of the Dwarf ahead of her.
The company continued their journey in companionable silence for the most part, with occasional interruptions from the younger Dwarves and Bilbo, usually asking where they were, and how long they would be walking until they stopped for a meal. All questions were silenced by a cold glare from Thorin as he led them up the rocky mountain trails. There had been a moment when Kili had muttered a comment about the renowned bad temper of Dwarves, supposing that it had originated from his own dear uncle, which had made Miluiel laugh. The gurgle of deliciously innocent sound had surprised even the woman, and she had clapped her tiny hands to her mouth in surprise, before shaking with silent giggles at her own bravery. However, all jollity had been quickly extinguished as Thorin had swung around, his eyes hard as he glared at her. In that single moment, he had conveyed every negative thought and emotion he had felt about her into that glare, and pierced her soul with his irritation, before turning slowly back to the head of the group and continuing over the uneven ground in silence.
It was much later in the day, as they had climbed up and up over the mountains of the High Pass, when the bright grey clouds that clung to the sky began to heave with rain. The weather soaked the company instantly, falling in hard droplets onto their skin and almost searing with the cold. It left them miserable, devoid of even a flicker of jollity; not even Fili or Kili could muster a smirk when one of the group slipped or slid along the roughly hewn path. Miluiel had stayed between the two brothers, her dainty feet picking their way cautiously over the jagged rocks in her boots, and ahead of her trekked the Dwarf prince, Dwalin and Balin. Bilbo had fallen behind, bringing up the rear with a heavily puffing Bombur and a despondent Óin.
The rain fell in an ever-increasing sheet of icy water, and the sky began to part with crackles of lightning. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble with thunder, and it caused Miluiel to stumble, her grey eyes wide as she steadied herself against Kili's shoulder. She tilted her face up to the sky, watching the dancing light flash over the clouds, illuminating the travelling company as they moved closer to the rocky face of the mountain.
"Thorin, the storm! We should stop!" Dwalin's voice called over the rolls of thunder, echoing around and bouncing back to the trudging group. Thorin stared out at darkened sky and shook his head, droplets falling from his dark mane of hair.
"No, we continue on! Durin's Day draws ever closer," his voice boomed over the crackling sounds.
"This thunderstorm, it's the worst I've seen!" Balin cried, his beard dripping as he glanced about. He sent a pleading look at Thorin, and then glanced towards Miluiel who was grasping at the mountainside with a tiny hand, her other clawing at the air as she almost toppled over. The Dwarf prince followed his friend's gaze and his heart constricted at the sight of her pale face lashed pink with stinging rain, and her tiny body buffeted by the harsh wind. She looked exhausted with the effort of remaining upright, and her mouth was open as she tried to drag gasps of breath into her lungs against the debilitating cold. It irritated him that she was so fragile in comparison to the hardiness of the Dwarves, but a tiny worm of sympathy wriggled in the pit of his stomach as he watched her fighting to keep up without so much as a murmur of discontent. His irritation quickly rode over this emotion, squashing it as if under a giant, booted foot. Why was he thinking of her in any way? Why did she draw compassion from him, as a child draws joy from those around? What business of his was it if the wretched Elf woman could not keep up with the group?
But she is not merely an Elf, his conscience seemed to whisper. He shook his head angrily, sending droplets of rain in high arcs from his dark mane. She has a part of your kin inside of her. She holds part of the great Aulë inside her, as you do inside yourself. At this, he snorted aloud, his indignation causing him to forget himself and his surroundings. Balin looked at him curiously, his eyebrows knitted together in his fatherly way, and then he glanced over his shoulder towards the cause of most of his King's irritation of late. She was still clinging to the rock face, her tiny hands cracked and bleeding from the harsh stone, and the old Dwarf felt a great pity wash over him, as he too noted her resolve not to complain.
"We should find shelter," Thorin called, nodding at Dwalin, and turned to push on. He was halted as a boulder slammed into the mountain side, shattering into jagged pieces that rained down over the company.
"This is no thunderstorm! This is a thunder battle!" Balin yelled as another rock smashed into the hills above their heads.
"Take cover, you fools!" Thorin's voice boomed around them as Bofur stood leaning away from the path, craning his neck to watch the disaster unfold.
"Bless me! Stone Giants! The legends are true! Stone Giants!" he grinned madly into the lashing rain, before being pulled backwards by Bifur and pushed against the wall of stone.
Miluiel slipped on the wet ground as she struggled towards the mountain, her feet sliding over the path. She felt the sensation of falling as her boots failed to grip, but before she hit the ground, strong hands yanked at her arms and she felt soft, wet fur against her face. She inhaled the scent of leather and pipe tobacco as she was pushed against the mountain, her body shielded with another. She gripped the front of a jerkin with both of her hands, and buried her face against the worn yet opulent material. Her hair was stuck flat to her head, droplets of rain slipping over her skin; she felt a gentle hand cup her face, protecting it from the falling rocks, and she let out a whimper of fear as she felt the craggy ground beneath her feet move.
A great shock of sound rent the air as the mountain seemed to split in two, moving under their feet and breaking the group apart. Miluiel turned her face away from the soaked furs before her to see Fili thrusting out his hand to his brother, screaming his name as the mountain morphed into a giant. The huge creature broke off a hunk of stone and hurled it across the valley towards the other, their movements lit by the crackling lightning. Thorin thrust Miluiel away from his body, pushing her ahead of himself and onto a safe ledge, grasping at the other Dwarves to pull them to safety. Fili remained rooted to the spot as he watched his brother and half of the company disappear, as they realised they had been standing on the rocky outcrop of the giant's knees.
Thorin grabbed at the back of Fili's cloak, pulling him towards the others just as the giant moved, revealing the other half of their group before they disappeared behind another mountain. The crunch of stone on stone caused the blood in Thorin's veins to freeze, and he whipped around again to see the other half of their group safe, clustered together on a rocky outcrop not far above their own. His breath huffed out in a great wheeze, and he reached up to help the Dwarves down. They greeted one another gruffly, but his nephews had no such reserve, leaping together and gripping each other in a tight embrace.
A shrill cry made Miluiel whip around, a gasp escaping her lips as she watched Bilbo slip over the edge of the path. His curly head bobbed out of her view, and she reached out with a soft scream, only to be yanked backwards by Kili. Thorin leapt in front of her, his furs dark and slick with rain, and reached down, his large hand closing around the wrist of the dangling hobbit. He and Dwalin heaved Bilbo back up to the path, and Balin grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Thorin's eyes bored into Bilbo's, his lip quirked in a sneer, before he swept past and back to the head of the group. He brushed past Miluiel, who stretched out a slim hand and brushed over his fur. He ignored her, his brow furrowed and brooding, and looked out over the dark hills.
"I thought we'd lost out burglar!" Dwalin grinned, cuffing Bilbo on the shoulder and straightening him up with a brush of his hand.
Thorin merely raised an eyebrow, "He has been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come; he has no place among us." Then he swept around, his eyes hard as he surveyed the group before him. They were drenched to the bone and shivering, the adrenaline from their recent misadventures causing them to have an injured air about them. His heart quivered as he turned to look at Miluiel, and found her to be the most battered of them all. Her tunic had torn at the shoulder where he had pushed her against the mountain side, and her fingers were raw where she had gripped the stone to stop herself from falling. The most haunting thing that he noticed, however, was the look of hurt that flashed in her grey eyes as she stared at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth. The moment passed in a blur of movement, and she was beside Bilbo, patting his clothing and face like a worried mother hen with a chick. Her lips moved, but over the roar of the wind and the battling giants, he could not understand the words she spoke. Her hair, usually curling and dancing on the wind, lay slick to her skin, and she brushed it back over her shoulder, trying to move Bilbo along with the rest of the group as they huddled together for warmth and security.
"Dwalin!" the Dwarf prince called, his voice lashing about them on the wind. He gestured ahead of them a short way, to a partly hidden opening in the stone. The other Dwarf jogged towards it, peering around the entrance and into the dim interior. His head disappeared, followed by the rest of his body as he announced that it seemed empty.
"Search to the back!" Thorin commanded as he ushered the rest of the Dwarves inside, "Caves in the mountains are seldom unoccupied."