Concerning Hobbits and Dwarves
Of dryads, wargs, musings and rings.
Note,
My beta finally solved her troubles at home out and we can work again. ^_^ Thank you all for the wonderful support and all the feedback I got from you lovely darlings! I wrote a long chapter for the wait, eleven pages, that should be enough^^ By the way, I need new fingers!
Part ten ; And the shit hits the fan… or in other words, do not, I repeat, do not kick a warg! It never ends well…part two
# native speech of the Easterlings #.
*whisper/ muted talking*
'thoughts, Iglishmêk'
"No!"
Thomp! The sound of leather meeting flesh carried through the air.
As did the growlthat immediately followed.
"No!"
Bilbo watched with a sort of nervous fascination as Fili stomped down on the paw that appeared on his bed for what seemed like the thousandth time that evening. He did have to admit that both participates of this particular activity were equally stubborn, as the black warg wanted on the young dwarf's bed and Fili was equally sure that he didn't want the warg up there. The warg had been taking the abuse with good humor thus far, though he had occasionally snapped at Fili if the stomps had had too much power to them.
They had returned to the Smial in the early afternoon, filthy and tired.
Bilbo's grandmother had taken one look at the pack and banned them all to the bathhouse until she had gotten them cleaned, groomed and flea free. The alpha female had allowed the scrubbing with grace, actually seeming to enjoy it, but Fili's warg…had not and the young Dwarf had come out of the encounter with two bites, various scratches, no small amount of bruising and a clean warg.
Soaked to the bone but victorious what in turn made Menace fight him on each step on their way.
However, it appeared that Menace, Fili's warg, had a dominance problem just like his new owner, which is how the two had would up fighting over bed privileges. Neither was willing to back down or lose face to the other – and they were the only ones that cared, since Kili was ignoring them in favor of grooming Ghost, as he called the alpha female.
Everyone agreed the name was appropriate and she seemed to be of the same opinion, looking pleased with herself and listening when Kili used it. She hadn't left Kili's side since the clearing, something that was driving Thorin to distraction. He'd already thrown what amounted to a massive temper tantrum back in the clearing when it became clear that the only way to separate the wargs from his nephews was by killing them.
Bilbo sighed wearily.
Currently, Ghost was lying next to Kili, her head in his lap, as he combed the tangles out of her fur. The occasional curses appeared only when the young dwarf encountered a particularly stubborn knot. Bilbo would have offered to help, but he had already detangled Fang's fur and wasn't particularly in the mood to move. Besides, Dwalin was next to Kili, cursing enough to turn the air around him blue.
His Warg was a young female with black fur that had scared off Dwalin's pony when he had tried to mount it, leaving him no choice but to ride her back to the Smial, keeping pace with the other two wargs. Her name, as it turned out, was Swift and from what they had seen, she lived up to the name; stunned Dwalin had barely been able to hang on during the ride back and once it became clear that Swift wasn't leaving, had agreed to make her presentable.
Grumbling in his beard that she looked like an old frizzled broom and that that would not do.
Which had turned out to be a bigger task than anticipated because her fur was full of tangles and snarls that stubbornly refused to unravel even under the force of a steel brush! Kili had already used up two bottles of oil to get the worst snarls out of Ghost's. Bilbo was sure that she had never before seen a comb or brush in her entire life and idly asked himself what orcs did the entire day when not pillaging hapless villages and poor travelers.
Fang was currently taking a nap in his arms. His injuries had been tended to and now the pup was tired out.
"No!"
"Growl!"
There went Fili and Menace again.
Bilbo shook his head and chose to not get involved, curling up with the young warg and quickly falling asleep as Ghost looked on with a fond look in her eyes. He took a good care of her pup. The large female turned to study the Dwarf king, who had taken up vigil next to Dwalin and spent most of his time glaring at her and Menace. Surprisingly, he was ignoring Swift for the most part but Ghost suspected that was because the two young ones were his kin.
She couldn't resist giving him a toothy grin just to hear the Khuzdul curses that streamed from his lips.
She went back to gnawing at Kili's left foot, continuing until he yelped and kicked at her. He was strong, stubborn and agile from what she had observed and, unlike Azog, actually took care of her. Actually, when she thought about it, none of her former riders had taken care of her. She wasn't used to riders that would take the time to clean and care for their mounts.
It…endeared him to her.
From what else she had seen, the young dwarf's uncle had yet to grasp how smart he could be. True he was a bit flighty, but he was young and that would be tempered out of him with age and then…well, then he would be dangerously cunning. She liked it when her riders showed potential.
Over the course of the day, she had watched and seen him scheming, playing tricks; it made her wonder how much more he was capable of when he focused on things not so childish.
For all that he resembled his uncle in looks, Ghost was confident that he would turn out very different since he was free of most of the hate of the older dwarf. That made him more dangerous, if he was able to plan with a clear head and, she turned to face Fili, with his brother to push and counterbalance him, they would grow to be formidable opponents for their enemies. She did wonder where Fili had gotten his calm temper from
Thorin was too prone to loose his temper all the time.
What surely came with the harsh life he had lived and how it had played with him. Kili on the other hand had the time and freedom to experience different things that Thorin, the heir and Thorin the King never had the chance to practice. Kili showed a wicked streak that due time would become something to look out for. Thorin's nature was straight on the path he had decided to take, his nephew could adapt if needed.
Also, she found Kili more stable in his nature as Thorin. Quick to anger he was, but also equally quick to forgive.
Eying Thorin and than Fili and again the King, Ghost mused about it from whom the blond had his unruffled temper from. Not from Thorin, whose tempers, as far as she could tell, ran hot and quick before fading into glowing embers of resentment. What she had seen of the lad during the fight was cool and calculating, planning ahead while keeping an eye out for his brother's more spontaneous actions. He never lost the oversight or any of his enemies out of sight.
Fili seems to have an unusual tolerance for a dwarf.
She had the feeling that it took time to raise Fili's temper to its true potential. But once there…. Well, what would happen than wouldn't be pretty for sure! Because Fili's way to deal with such seemed to be the ugly sort. That sort that would spill blood and guts, not that she complained about that. Count in the dwarvish nature to hold grudges longer than anyone else- well she for one did not want to end up on his bad side.
Ghost had outlived many, many riders in her life and could usually tell when a rider would last long enough to be worth anything.
These two, provided they survived to full adulthood and potential, would be two of the best warriors her people had faced – though perhaps she should exclude the elves from that. She turned lastly to the young dwobbit who, based on what was obvious to the noses of her and her kin, was the future mate of both dwarves. That would probably prove to be a source of hilarity to them in the future.
All afternoon she had watched him sooth ruffled feathers and deflect attention from things he was trying to hide, all without upsetting anyone overly much.
It was hard to judge on the basis of one afternoon's observation, but the boy had potential – quiet, clever, polite without being simpering. Good traits for a scholar and mediator. By Melkor! In addition, silent, the brat was so unnaturally silent on his hairy feet! He had managed to astonish her by sneaking up on her and Menace a few times over the day. Unintentionally, of course, or else she would have bitten him already. Thought, it had been fun to watch the dwarf's jump each time he did that unknowingly to them. She would have to watch him – because he was a joker in the deck and whether that was good or bad had yet to be seen.
In the fight, he had shown an unusual courage.
She would have to see, but she pitied their enemies when the three matured.
Dwalin didn't sleep well that night – Swift had followed him to his room and had slept at the foot of his bed, snoring away. Freshly groomed and sporting a braid in her fur that told the other dwarves to leave her alone. She continued that pattern for the next few days and gradually he relaxed, allowing her to help with training, which she turned out to be good at and the two were soon moving in tandem with each other.
Even Thorin had to admit grudgingly that she was doing well, loathe as he was to admit it.
Ghost on the other hand… he hated her.
He knew her, had seen her and the pale orc together in Azanulbizar, and didn't want her near Kili. He knew that she was baiting him and that he was rising to it, but with the influence that she was having on Kili – the boy was getting worse. He had woken to nearly a hundred frogs making a cacophony in his bedroom and it had taken him nearly the entire morning to catch them all, even with the younger fauntlings help. The brats had the time of their life helping him to catch the blasted beasts.
He still wasn't sure where Kili had gotten them all!
Thorin growled and stalked from the training area, still seething at his lack of proof against his nephews and their young friend. Who he secretly thought to have helped them with this prank. He was so wrapped up in his anger that he didn't notice the glance that Fili and Hildifons exchanged behind his back– it hadn't been Kili behind the latest prank
Fili was willing to acknowledge that the frog trick had been childish, but his uncle was so wound up recently that he needed to loosen up – his moods were starting to affect everyone else and that, according to his heir, was unacceptable. So if pranking his uncle was the only way to get him to lighten up, that was what he would do!
His angry bellows this morning had been worth it.
The Wargs watched in amusement; it wasn't often that they got to see dwarfs in a relaxed environment and they were proving to be highly entertaining. Menace growled in glee at the memory of his master and the other hobbit with the bow slipping sack after sack of drugged frogs into the king's room – not even the noise had taken away from the payoff of seeing Thorin's face as he ran out of his quarters, still in his night clothes.
The entire household had needed minutes to calm down from all the laughter.
Kili watched the two coconspirators exchange looks and shook his head in exasperation; and Fili had the nerve to call his pranks childish! But he ignored that and returned to his behind, frowning. Ghost had told him about her last rider, the Pale orc and some of his plans. Kili had heard of him, having been told of the murder of his uncle, grandfather and great grandfather at the monster's hands. But how would he tell his uncle, that the orc who would try and end their line was alive?
That he had a son himself?
Kili groaned and rubbed his face before getting up to go to his brother. He needed Fili's help figuring out what to do!
Bilbo had slipped out of the Smial without telling anyone to go for a walk with his grandfather, to ask him why the forest spirit would have given him the Warg pup.
Gerontius Took was known for his wisdom, but Bilbo had been able to tell he was surprised. But his grandfather had guessed that she had wanted Bilbo to give the pup a chance it wouldn't have had with the Orcs. It was in short what Bilbo had thought too. They used the rest of the morning hours to walk a bit around mostly in silence with Fang running around them in cycles. Occasionally the old Took told his grandson a bit of his own travels or about pranks of his uncles and aunts. It was a wonderful way for Bilbo to spend his time.
His grandfather was now 130 years old. An immense age for a hobbit. He had already outlived the oldest known in history by more than ten years. Since last year the old hobbit had become brittle and spry, he truly looked his age nowadays. The dwarves that met him had taken to bow when he walked by. A show of respect due his age, Fili had called it.
It pleased the old Took immensely from what Bilbo could tell.
It wasn't much likely that he would life for much longer and Bilbo was grateful for any time that he could spend with him. he feared the day his beloved grandfather would not wake again. He slept more in the last years. Sometimes the old hobbit forgot things in the late.
It were harmless things like names or dates but all taken together a sure sign that he was on the end of his life. It made Bilbo infinitely sad to have to acknowledge that fact of life. Gerontius was still as shrewd and wise as ever when he was sitting with Isengrim in court, but privately, the old Took often now forgot the many names of his numberless relatives besides the ones most dear to him.
Bilbo swore to himself to walk with him more often.
Swift had broken off from training with Dwalin to follow the two, since Dwalin didn't feel comfortable leaving his nephew on his own, not trusting the dwobbit to keep out of trouble.
Swift thought it was both endearing and amusing.
Dwalin once being told that from Ghost, had a fit in the courtyard.
Just outside the Shire's boundaries, the first snowstorm of the year roared into Bree and the surrounding countryside.
Azog, his mood already foul because of the abandonment of his Warg, grew even angrier, lashing out at every orc that came within reach. The river was still not frozen enough to make it into the Shire and his men were growing even more nervous as more rumors about the hobbits reached their ears. The wild men and easterlings, already nervous because they were working with orcs, had abandoned them two nights ago.
And Bolg could not come as planed. The northern men made him troubles that kept him in Gundabad.
What Azog couldn't know was that Thorin was getting ready to leave in order to gather the rest of his people and lead them back to their new homes and that the remaining dwarves together with the hobbits had begun to build up barricades to prevent the anticipated invasion in an astonishing speed.
In Buckland, the fortifications had only to be strengthened and in the Took Smial's this was the same.
The old Took had already years ago seen to that being done. Never being one to wait for the trouble to reach him, he had taken preventive measures when he had reached one hundred. Because of that, the Took Smial's now were one of the best secured places in the Shire. The wall around the heart of their family stronghold nearly ten meters high and two meters wide. The outer side was kept constantly wet with oil to prevent climbing up and Isengrim had added a water ring around it in the last fife years.
Having learned on his adventurous years that orcs were no good swimmers by nature.
Gandalf was also watching the Brandywine river, concerned for what would take place once it froze over. He turned his horse away towards the North, where Argonui and his kin lived. The dwarves and hobbits would need all the allies that they could get and the rangers were just the people for the job.
He had hoped to remain in the area longer, in order to learn more about Belladonna's young son – the boy had caught his interest and he wanted more time to evaluate him. Him and all of the other young dwobbits that had been hidden beneath his nose this entire time!
On his side hung a small knife, made by Seradon Goold.
Sure, it looked not like much, was rather plain in build and missed any kind of décor but for its simple looks it was uncommonly sharp and balanced! He had been stunned to see the tween make such good works in such a short time under Agmar's tutelage. The last smith of such a shown talent in such a young age Gandalf had seen had been the unfortunate Celebrimbor.
He had also noticed it to have an odd effect when he rode down to the river to look at the building ice packs on it.
It had glowed blue, yes glowed! Faintly a blue glow had emanated from the blade until Gandalf had noticed it and had taken it out to look surprised down upon it. He knew such an effect only on Elven blades of the old times. Never before had he witnessed another smith as theirs forge blades like those again.
Once he came back, he had to ask the boy how he had managed it!
Because as soon he had noticed the brightly glowing warning, he had spied orks on the other riverside.
He shook the thought off for later evaluation and hurried to get to the Numorian settlements in the North.
Bilbo watched as Thorin paced the courtyard, agitation clear in every movement that he made and pale as a wall. Bilbo slowly made his way over to Fili and Kili and the three watched in silence as the king's pony was brought to him and he rode off hastily.
"What in the name of Yavanna happened?"
It was Kili who told him about Azog and else that Ghost had been able to tell him and the three stayed in the courtyard as other ponies were brought and messengers dispatched to warn the other heads of the families while the Dwarves released the ravens to carry warnings and messages to their counterparts in the mountains.
One falcon was also dispatched.
It took straight route to the misty mountains to the house of Elrond. Gerontius watched this with old eyes, pleased on the foresight shown by his heir. They would need every help they could get in the next weeks. His old bones were a sure indicator for the weather for the old hobbit and they told him of more cold, snow and ice in the days to come.
He somehow had the feeling that he would not live to see the new years celebrations…
It wasn't that Gerontius had much to complain here, the lady had granted him a longer life as any hobbit before him. But he would Not die in his bed if he could help it! Exchanging a knowing look with his ever faithful wife, the two old hobbits nodded to each other shortly before she turned and went soundlessly into the Smial.
He had one card left in his pocket, one that not even Gandalf knew about.
He had stumbled over the creature by sheer accident on his youth time wanderings. It had been so thin, looking almost like a goblin itself but once, once it had been a hobbit, he had been sure. He had buried the mangled body he had found when he had been hiding from the goblins and had gone home with many questions in his mind. When back, Gerontius had buried himself in his office for months. Looking through all the family trees of the Shire for missing hobbits.
He finally had found a clue nearly a year later.
The name of the poor chap was Sméagol and according to the records he had to have been around three fucking hundred years old when he had found him dying in that dang place! The story around the item in the hidden drawer in his mantelpiece of his bedroom fireplace had been harder to find out.
It had stroke him odd that such a little thing had such a power over the other hobbit that it had prolonged his life for such a long time!
He had right away thought it to be one of the old rings of power, being a learned hobbit himself and having been told of the old stories and histories. He had only not been certain which one it was that Sméagol had found in the river. Gerontius found the answer nearly a full century later. Again, by sheer accident he listened the tale of Isildur one evening of his last visit in Rivendell and suddenly all had come together. He had told no one, had kept it secret and had only talked about his finds with his wife.
Ever since, the old hobbits had mused what to do with the accursed ring.
He was certain; somehow the blasted gold band was responsible for the orks now coming here. Even if they did not realize this themselves. It wanted a new master, one that it could manipulate and that would not simply put it into a hiding place and forget about it.
But Gerontius would wreck that plan of the cursed ring of Sauron.
He had already a plan himself to prevent any ork or man from finding that thing. Giving Bilbo and the two nephews of Thorin Oakenshield a guarded look he went inside too to join his wife in scheming. As it looked, he had found right the right ones for his mad plan.
He did no longer trust anyone besides his chosen to see it done. To great was the taint in the races, to strong the greed, hate and violence that thing thrived off of. No, Gerontius thought, it was better to keep it hush, hush and done in utter silence.
Now, the only question now was, how to get them to do what he wanted them and two of his children to do…
As the messengers passed the Old Forest the spirits watched them with interest. They had been following the events of the last few days with interest – it was not often that wargs chose to ride with the Stone Children. When the group rode out of sight, one of the spirits detached themselves from the tree and followed.
A group of her kin did the same, just as curious and just as concerned for their descendants. The orcs were a threat that they could not take on, even with the help of the Stone Children. But they would help fight the orcs and no one would ever forget what happened to those who dared to harm Yavanna's Children!
Bilbo had felt the change in the air as their party rode along the borders of Forest and guessed that they were being watched by the Fey. He didn't say anything then, but reminded himself to tell Hildifons when they reached their destination.
Unbeknownst to Bilbo, the older Hobbit had also noticed the shift in the air and surmised that it was the Fey at work.
The Dryads followed them all the way back to Hobbiton before dispersing throughout the Shire. That night, many of the trees that had long slept came awake and began to walk as the Huorns of old had. Thorny vines sprouted and grew to mature height as the Hobbits slept, twisting and turning around fences and rocks.
Coated in a greenish slime that was harmless for the gentle folk and the children of aule but was deadly for every one else.
The marshes came awake when the animals felt an urge to wander, pacing the river with watchful eyes. These worms rarely stirred themselves but now, now they hungered – though not for those that lived within the Shire.
The old spirit watched all this with grim satisfaction, her normally welcoming face a mask of cold rage. She remembered the last days of Melkor and of the atrocities committed by his children; she remembered the uselessness of the Maia then and expected no different now, for all his claims to be going for help, Olorin was alone in his tries and his motives rarely played out without losses. She didn't trust the Old Ones across the seas nor their servants here, especially the one known as Saruman.
What wasn't even his true name, that was Curunir.
He was too power hungry and had always been haughty, but those traits seemed to have begun to grow as of late. She hoped that the Ents would keep a close eye on him, to try to find the evil that seemed to follow in his wake.
She turned away from river and back to the Hobbits and the Stone Children that had caught her eye – the two races never ceased to amuse her, with their awkwardness. Especially the young triad that had appeared. The younger spirits had taken to going ahead and easing their way through the forest, as they seemed so clumsy without their caves of rock around them. The one with the funny hat also amused her to no ends. She chuckled softly to herself and then blinked as the one with an axe in his head turned her way.
Bifur had spotted her on his way to the still being constructed fortification of Hobbiton. He had turned back the way he had come and…what type of creature was she anyway? He watched her as she observed the young ones and saw her move a tree root out of the youngest Durin's way. right after that she rescued his brainless younger cousin Bofur from running into a low hanging tree branch.
He watched her for a while doing such things.
She must be one of those Fey that the Hobbits had been talking about. She was beautiful though, all greens and browns, reds and gold. When she turned her gaze to him, he sucked in a sharp breath at the centuries that looked back at him from golden eyes.
Inside of him something woke that he had not felt since a long time. The multicolored eyes were hauntingly beautiful and stirred his soul.
He flushed and then bowed deeply to her before walking briskly away, muttering under his breath in Khuzdul. She blinked in surprise; while she had observed him before, this behavior was out of character for him. In all her years, she had seen few survive the injury that he had sustained, a testament of his will to live. No one seeing her had ever turned color, as the children of eru seem so fond of to do… why had he done that? She cocked her head to the side for a moment before following him, her curiosity getting the better of her. All else suddenly forgotten in favor to solve a puzzle out.
If there was one thing that her race was cursed with it, then it was curiosity.
That evening, Bilbo found himself under the tutelage of Balin, who had begun to teach him Khuzdul.
Balin was pleased to discover that the boy was a quick learner, able to memorize large amounts of the lessons and grasp the language quickly. If Bilbo kept at the pace he was currently moving at, he would surpass Ori soon!
Unlike Kili, who struggled with the lessons, or Fili, who was doodling on the parchment next to both.
Balin knew that Fili had the needed talent, he just lacked the drive. So Balin flicked a pebble at his wayward student, hitting him right in the center of the forehead with a centuries practiced ease. Which caused Kili to snicker as Bilbo rubbed at the spot between his eyes in exasperation.
Bedtime was interesting, as sorting out who slept where had taken some effort.
Ghost had upstaged Menace, who had tried (unsuccessfully) to displace Fili from his bed and Fang had howled his displeasure when Bilbo had stuck him in a basket. Sure, it was a nice and cozy basket, had even a cushion and a blanket and was sort of warm feeling and he had snatched a shirt from Bilbo and hidden it under the cushion too, but it wasn't Bilbo's bed!
Ghost had finally growled them into submission, but none of the three boys thought that this was the last time that this would happen.
Bilbo had finally managed to crawl into bed after returning Fang to his basket (the pup had taken advantage of Fili and Menace's fight to sneak back into Bilbo's bed), but sleep eluded him. he turned left, he turned right. Onto his stomach and than on his bed… nothing helped. Fili and Kili, judging by their snores, weren't having this problem. Two hours later, when Fili got up to piss, Bilbo was still tossing and turning restlessly.
When Fili returned, he frowned at the Dwobbit. "Why aren't you asleep?"
Bilbo sat up and shrugged. "I don't have a clue." His irritated tone told Fili exactly what he thought of that before Bilbo laid back down, facing the wall. Bilbo was unprepared for Fili to shove him over and settle into the bed next to him, ignoring his complaints, and tug him close. "Sleep, Bilbo. I don't know what is keeping you awake, but Kili always sleep better if we shared a bed."
Bilbo finally settled, Fili's scent calming him; the prince smelled of stone and forest, of wind and wild things, a combination that soothed Bilbo and allowed him to drift to sleep. Fili smoothed out Bilbo's hair, resisting the urge to braid it into a courting braid. Neither Bilbo or Kili was of age, so for now he would have to be content to be near them. It amused him that he seem to work for Bilbo the same way he always did for Kili when he was this restless. What was it that made these two fall asleep once he was near? Shrugging the amusing dilemma off, he closed his eyes.
Fili soon drifted off as well, his arms tightening possessively around Bilbo in his sleep.
When Kili woke for his run to the lavatory, he stopped short at the sight of the two before heading to the bathroom, contemplating why he wasn't as jealous as he thought he would have been.
It hit him on the walk back and he sat on the edge of the bed, studying the Hobbit, as he examined his feelings. Why he felt so at ease with Bilbo and sought him out when he would normally only seek Fili? He wondered if that was what Fili had been discussing with their uncle lately and grinned. He grabbed his own pillow and made his way over to the bed, before he slipped into the open space between wall and hobbit and settled in, ignoring Fili and Bilbo's sleepy grumbles.
And then, feeling utterly complete for the first time in his life, Kili drifted off to sleep, the scents of his Two following him into his dreams.
Outside, the snow began to fall from the sky and cover the Shire in a white blanket that glittered under the moon.
The old Dryad watched, knowing that it wouldn't be much longer, and settled down to rest. Her resting tree just outside the Smial of the Ur clan.
Inside, Bifur watched this from his bed. Out of a point he did not understand the dryad had followed him around for the entire day. Not that he complained about it, oh no. she never spoke and just looked curiously on whatever he did. Always hidden from the sights of the most in the plants around him. ending his carving Bifur put his work sheet away and blew out the night candle next to his bed.
He needed no light besides the moon to see clearly in the night.
The figurine was a lovely rendering of the dryad and was held on tightly for the entire night.
That night, the first thin sheet of ice covered the river and Azog felt satisfaction curl in his stomach. The ice was still too weak to cross, but it was only a matter of time now.
Suryallee