The taut muscles all along Ríkin's neck and back unclenched not a whit when he spotted Dwalin making his way into the study, both he and the younger prince dusted with snow. Ríkin strode to his superior's side. The sooner he updated Dwalin, the sooner he could set about assuring himself his Pepper was safe.
"What in Durin's name happened here?" Dwalin demanded of him.
Ríkin's right hand clenched about his halberd, the impatience riding him gaining spurs such as men used and a whip. "The king was attacked," he informed Dwalin in a hard tone only loud enough to reach Dwalin's and Kíli's ears.
"Nazgûl?" Kíli asked.
Ríkin's gaze swept the room. Clove had promised to light a candle near the doorway should any of the fell creatures draw near. Thus far, it remained unlit. "Aye, ye've the right of it. Five of them, or so yer brother's brownie says."
"My brother's…?" Kíli asked, head jerked up an instant before his lips quirked. "So that's who she is," he murmured.
"Any other problems?" Dwalin interrupted, voice gruff.
Ríkin ignored the prince's babblings – he had not the time to make sense of them – and said, "The brownies have only seen five of the creatures to date. Thorin has three of the lassies searching for them, for we know not where they went once the attack ended. He's ordered all of Erebor's residents summoned."
"All?" Dwalin's bushy brows climbed high.
"Aye, all." Ríkin's gaze rested upon Kíli, knowing the prince, at least, would well understand. "The king has much he wishes to disclose to his people."
"And all it took was a full-out attack," Kíli said with a short shake of the head.
OoOoOo
With Dwalin back in charge, Ríkin joined those spreading the word of their king's summons to the inhabited towns in Erebor. Ríkin methodically knocked upon the doors along the street as he made his way to his own home, his mind consumed with thoughts and worries for his Pepper.
She hadn't been in the room with the king. Her fate could not possibly be that of the brownie, Cicely, who failed to recover even with Balin patting her hand as he kept vigil by her bedside..
The instant Ríkin reached home, he burst through the door. He cared not for candles or the Nine. His only thought was to assure himself his Pepper was well. "Lassie? Pepper?" Eikin and Thekkin rose from their seats, questions falling from their lips. Ríkin lifted a hand in a bid for silence.
Not here. His hand tightened about his halberd spasmodically. By Durin, my Pepper. I should not have let you leave my side. Logic said like as not she remained at the brownies' house, but the fear curdling his gut cared naught for logic.
"Thorin has called every dwarf in Erebor to the Hall of the Forefathers," he told his brothers abruptly.
"The attack," Eikin said.
"Aye," Ríkin responded with a tight nod. "I've a favor to be asking of ye both."
Thekkin paused from collecting the battered boots beside his chair, his big feet clad only in the ludicrous, red and white striped socks Pepper had knitted for him. "Something else concerns ye, laddie?"
"My Pepper," he said, tongue thick. "She's reported to be at the brownies' house."
Thekkin's eyes narrowed. "Yer worried."
Ríkin rubbed at his face. "Aye," he admitted. *One brownie lies, mayhap dying, from the attack.*
His brothers frowned in unison, their stocky frames tensing. Thekkin stared at Ríkin hard before nodding shortly. "We'll head there first." He stomped his feet into his boots and stood. "We'll have your lassie back at your side in two shakes, Brother."
Ríkin's shoulders settled at their proper height, tension draining from them. She'll be well. 'twas irrational, his fear of losing her again, but he could not rid himself of it as yet. Pepper had vanished upon him for over half a year with no word, and he wasn't sure he'd be forgetting the sense of loss that had stalked him each day of their separation. Not anytime soon.
With any luck, Thekkin and Eikin would collect Pepper and beat him back to the Hall of the Forefathers. 'twas the truth, he was counting upon it.
OoOoOo
Thorin stood near the Yule tree dominating the room, hands clasped behind his back and gaze directed up at the tree. Despite Balin's presence, he'd just been informed that the brownies' eldest had worsened, slipping ever further from them by the hour. Fury filled him, for the brownies were under his protection. Little good that it did them. Afraid to make a mistake, he'd delayed acting…and made one of his worst yet.
Clove had attempted to soften the blow, informing him the failing brownie herself was largely responsible for her demise, for she'd chosen a single dwarf for host-family. Such a limit had kept the brownie weaker than she ought to have been. That another brownie had done the same, selecting Bilbo, was a matter of deep concern. Nutmeg, he determined, would need to choose at least one more host. Two would be preferable. And once this day was done and things set to rights, he'd be meeting with each of the lasses. Never again would one perish from lack of care. They had called him their king. It was high time he assumed that role in full.
Would this have occurred if he'd taken a deeper interest in their wellbeing? He rubbed at his jaw, wishing he knew the answer. Valar keep you, he thought towards the ailing brownie. Balin had taken to holding the small female on his lap, rocking her as one would a child. Thorin could only pray Cicely would rally.
As he waited for his people to congregate, he thought long on the matter, as well as his people, loyalty, and honor.
What was taking Bofur so long? He'd expected the Company to be the first to answer his call, yet Bofur and Bifur were both noticeably absent. Bombur had excused himself a handful of minutes before to see what was delaying them. Thorin waited impatiently. He needed to speak with his friend before choosing how much he would reveal to his people. Much he had to say would directly impact the younger toymaker and his One.
Dís nudged his side, and he realized his fists had clenched, his body assuming a warrior's posture. Mahal. He relaxed, schooling his worries from his face. "Thank you."
She exchanged a long, somber look with him as her hand rested upon his left arm. "Have you decided your course, dear Brother?"
An uproar interrupted them. Both pivoted towards the large entryway to find Gloin, Gimli and Bombur clustered around Bifur, the toymaker decidedly woozy upon his feet. The look in Gloin's eye had Thorin standing up tall.
"What?" Thorin demanded.
"See what's delaying that healer, Gimli," Gloin rumbled. The young warrior bobbed his head and darted out of the room. Then to Thorin, "We've been invaded, laddie."
"Orcs," Bifur said in Khuzdul, clearly in pain as he touched tentative fingers at his skull.
Bombur slapped the hand away with a scowl. "Let the healer assess it."
Bifur managed a weak smile for his cousin. "They took Bofur."
Thorin froze. By Durin. How had orcs penetrated their defenses? One glance, and Dwalin rushed from the room in search of answers. Thorin wiped a hand down his face. This had to be the Nazgûl's work. He should have let the brownies follow them. He should have listened. Secure in the mountain's defenses, he had been complacent.
"It gets worse," Bombur said.
Thorin's hand halted upon his jaw. His eyes lifted in silent demand.
"How?" Dís asked.
Bombur included Thorin's sister in his regard. "Bifur had a piece of yarn attached to his wrist along with Bofur's hat when I found him." Bifur lifted the red yarn in demonstration. "I think our Helpers saw what happened and are following them."
The ground seemed to move under Thorin's feet for one long second. Then he spat a virulent curse under his breath before whipping around in search of his heir. In the crush of dwarves filling the room, he failed to spot him.
"Fíli!" Thorin called. Movement. Fíli's hand rose in the air. His heir's chin jerked upwards in question. Thorin waved him over. Returning his attention to the Company, grateful to see the Ri brothers had joined them, Thorin squeezed Bifur's arm. "My word. We will get him back. Bifur, you see that healer. I want you cleared for travel. Gloin…"
Fíli arrived, one hand dancing on the hilt of a sword and face tight with concern. "Uncle?"
"Bofur has been taken," he informed him shortly. "Orcs." Fíli's eyes flared. Leaning closer to him, Thorin said, "I need you to round up our brownies. All of them. We must move fast." Then softer, "At least one of them witnessed Bofur's abduction and followed. I need to know who it was." He wouldn't forget anytime soon the lessons of this day. The brownies were stubborn and brave, but they were also infinitely more fragile due to their need for place. If one of their brownies had headed off into danger, Thorin wanted her host-family present during the search.
Just in case. Valar let it be a needless precaution. He did not want to see another brownie Withdraw. Not on his watch.
Fíli sprinted off. Thorin next sought out the familiar dark head of his younger nephew. "Kíli!"
OoOoOo
Anger and helpless frustration surged through him at his uncle's words. "Say that again," Kíli said in a tense voice, rocking upon his heels. He'd feared Thorin's actions would come back to harm them, but he'd not imagined anything of this magnitude. Orcs had bypassed their security, stealing away Bofur. How?
"You heard me," Thorin said.
Kíli paced a few steps away from his uncle, body vibrating with tension. Mahal. His mind raced. Frustration won, and he marched back, unstrung bow pointed at Thorin in accusation. "If you had but listened to me…" he growled. He bit off the rest of the thought and turned away once more, trying to leash his ire.
Instead, he grew all the more furious. "By Durin, Uncle." He stepped into Thorin's space. "From here on out, the Helpers are under my authority."
OoOoOo
Disappointment. Mahal, but Thorin had hoped to never see that crushing look upon Kíli's face again. Not directed his way.
At the same time, Thorin bristled at the blow to his pride. Did his nephew believe he failed to realize his errors? "Kíli, we have not the time—" Thorin said with a measure of heat.
"They trusted me, Uncle. From the first, I was the one who valued them. I paid attention." While you did not, his nephew left unsaid.
Thorin held his glare for a long minute, a matching anger flaring to life. It died under the weight of Kíli's bright-eyed regard. Thorin reached out and cupped his nephew's neck with one hand and drew him near so that he could bring their foreheads together. Truly, Kíli had grown up – and into such a dwarf as he felt such pride in.
Uncertainty flashed across Kíli's face as Thorin released the embrace. Thorin told him in a rough voice, "Again, you and your brother humble me." Kíli's lips parted, but Thorin pressed a hand to his shoulder, shaking him once. "I should have listened. You were right all along." A pause while he considered Kíli's words. Kíli was right. As much as it stuck in his craw to know it, Kíli had seen with clearer eyes from the first. "When this is over, you will be my advisor on their behalf, their voice when they cannot speak. I'll not repeat this mistake again. You have my word."
"Uncle…"
Thorin's lips twitched. It seemed he'd finally found the way to rob Kíli of words. "Your mother often tells me I try to bear the weight of the mountain on my own shoulders, not trusting in my family or my advisors." Then the full of it, "Pride. Ever, it seems, has it been my downfall." He touched Kíli's cheek. "This I swear to you, Sister-son. I will work on this flaw. Beginning now."
He dropped his hand and pivoted upon a heel. Thorin strode to the musicians' dais to one side of the room. A single leap carried him onto the platform where he turned to face his people. In a loud voice, he called, "Hear me."
Conversation ceased. All eyes turned his way. Thorin glanced at the candle near the entryway across the long length of the hall and found it unlit.
"They are not here," a female voice told him softly.
Thorin's head tilted an inch in her direction. "It is safe?"
"As safe as we can be. Nutmeg guards the hallway outside. If she sees one approach, you'll be informed."
Good. For it was time to address his people plainly. "Clove?" he ventured to guess.
"Comfrey, Thorin," she said with rich humor.
Comfrey. If he remembered aright, she belonged to the barracks warriors, particularly Grómi. "Thank you, Comfrey."
Thorin scanned the room, eyes alighting upon faces from which he drew strength. Kíli. Fíli. Gloin and his beloved wife. Nori. Dori. Then with the feeling of stepping off a cliff, Thorin spoke. "My people. I am once more reminded of your strength and resilience. Today, we were attacked in a manner few in Arda have ever faced. Yet here you stand, unafraid. Long have I believed our people the bravest of all Eru's children, adopted or not." A brief smile as his gaze locked onto one soul in the midst of hundreds. "Mayhap but for hobbits." Bilbo's uncertain smile flashed in return as many of the Company clapped the hobbit on the back. Thorin's gaze left his friend. "Today, you have proved me right. You humble me with your courage."
Many a shoulder drew back as bearded chins lifted proudly at his words. By Durin, no king had ever had such a great people to lead. Let me not fail them again.
Bracing himself, eyes finding his sister, Thorin continued. "There is much I have kept from you, my friends, in the hopes of ensuring your safety." A wry twist of the lips. "A foolish venture, and one you might well harbor anger for. It is time I trust in those same traits that saw you through this day. Trust that you are both strong enough and brave enough to face the truth."
And so he told them the tale. Not the full of it, for Daphne and Aleks's story was not his to share. That belong only to the twins themselves and Bofur. But he told them of the Dark Lord's rise in Mordor. That Sauron had already expressed his intent to see the line of Durin erased and Erebor the domain of orcs.
The mood swung from outrage to rumbling anger and on to curiosity as he next told them of the brownies. "They did not leave," he admitted. "It was my doing to shield them from the Nazgûl. In doing so, I endangered them…and our kingdom. Comfrey?" In a lower voice, "Would you be willing to show yourself to our people?"
The brownie appeared beside him, fingers in her apron pockets and thick coat hanging open from her shoulders. She lifted one hand and waggled some fingers, blushing as the room erupted in loud cheers and wide grins. Then with a glance at Thorin, receiving his nod, she vanished once more.
And last, Thorin informed his people that orcs had dared enter their kingdom and taken Bofur. Murmurs arose, a dull thunder filling the room. Thorin lifted a hand. "I need your help."
Silence. Dwarves turned to look at each other, then almost as one, shouts filled the room.
"I stand with my king!"
"We have your back, laddie!"
Fíli's hand lifted to his shoulder as Thorin's throat tightened from the show of unity. When had Fíli migrated to his side?
Dwalin entered the room and hurried to him. "Nothing," Dwalin said in a voice shaking with anger and frustration. "The gates are secure, Thorin. They did not enter that way. On my life, I'm sure of it."
It was then that Thekkin, Eikin, and Ríkin sprinted into the room. Ríkin leaped up the few stairs onto the platform. "Thorin, two of our brownies are missing. Pepper and Hyssop."
Clove appeared at Thorin's left, leaning against Fíli. "They must be the ones who followed the orcs."
"Orcs?" Ríkin demanded.
Thorin lifted a hand. To Ríkin and his brothers, "Orcs entered this kingdom. How, we know not. They took Bofur and left Bifur unconscious. We know at least one brownie was there." His gaze cut to Dwalin. "The side entrance?"
"The guards there report no disturbances. Nothing passed through that door, I'm sure of it," Dwalin told him.
Thorin's frown deepened. If the orcs had not penetrated their defenses by either the main gates or the secret entrance, then that meant… Mahal. The orcs had found another way into his mountain.
"Uncle?" Fíli asked.
Curse you, Sauron. "We inspected the mountain when we reclaimed it. Once." He let the word settle a moment.
"You think they found something we missed?" Bombur asked, thick fingers clasped atop his beard.
"Or they created a back door of their own." Thorin turned to Clove, then Rikin. "You two mentioned a house the brownies have laid claim to."
Both nodded. Ríkin's voice shook with barely repressed fury as he told him, "Aye, 'twas where my Pepper and Hyssop were to be this day."
Then that is where they must start. If the brownies had been at the house as well as Bofur's, somewhere between they encountered the orcs. Raising his voice once more, he shouted, "Dwarves of Erebor."
Silence.
"Orcs may have created a new way into our Halls." With low intensity, he told them, "I need every inch of our kingdom searched, from top to bottom. And my friends, we need to do this swiftly."
OoOoOo
Kíli watched the Hall of the Forefathers erupt like a kicked beehive. Dwalin, Ríkin, Gloin, Fíli and Thorin issued orders to other senior officers who in turn organized Erebor's residents into teams. Kíli's fingers smoothed across his bow as worry grew in his mind. How many times had Bofur's good cheer kept them all from despair during the quest to Erebor? Dozens? A hundred even?
And to know some of Kíli's brownies were even now following the orcs… His lips flattened to a white slash. No longer would they live invisible among the dwarves. Kíli wouldn't have it. Even if they must hide from the Nazgûl, the dwarves of Erebor would never be ignorant of their presence again.
Thorin pulled Kíli aside, disrupting half-formed plans Kíli had harbored to assign himself to one of the search groups. Anything was better than standing here waiting.
"Kíli, I have a task for you," Thorin said.
Kíli straightened with relief. "Name it."
"It is possible Bofur has already been taken outside the mountain," Thorin said, his gaze heavy.
Kíli held his uncle's gaze for the second time that night, reading the request Thorin did not voice. "I'll take our best hunters. If he's out there, we'll find him."
"Do not engage if you find them," Thorin warned.
Who, me? Kíli quirked a grin.
"Kíli."
Dropping his smile, he said, "I won't do anything foolish. You have my word." Clapping Fíli on the back, Kíli jogged from the room.
A tug on his arm halted him some distance from the hall. The brownie his brother had been so very solicitous about popped into view, her face earnest. "I'm going with you."
Oh, no, she wasn't. Fíli would skin him alive. "No, you aren't."
"I am."
He eyed her simple apparel up and down before shaking his head more emphatically. "No, you really aren't."
A frustrated, feminine grumble drew a laugh from him, one she didn't look particularly happy to hear. With a stamp of her foot, "Kíli—"
"No," he said again, wondering if this was what Thorin had felt all those times he'd had to repeat himself to Kíli and his brother. "One, you are not dressed for it, and two, you will be needed here."
She scurried after him as he resumed his quick progress to the barracks. "You have to."
He snorted, offering her a grin. "You know, I've never been much swayed by that argument."
Small hands bunched into fists at her sides. "Oh!" Then she hurried to regain his side. "Just because you-"
"Clove," he said. Stopping, he turned to face her. "I won't risk any of you. There are only seven of you-"
"Sixteen."
"Seven calling Erebor home," he clarified. Then more seriously, "We don't want to lose any of you."
She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "You need me with you."
Kíli groaned, mentally acknowledging that in this, Thorin was right. Women were stubborn creatures. "No, I really-"
"You can't see Hyssop or Pepper."
He halted again. "What?"
Her smile was brittle. "Kíli, my gut says they are out there – my sister and Hyssop. They followed those orcs. Please. You can't see them. If one of them…fell…" She cleared her throat. "There is no winter in Faerie."
Faerie. A suspicion he'd harbored since Bilbo had mentioned that Muriste creature hardened into certainty, and a tremendous anger began to claim Kíli. Confirmation. Thorin and most of the Company had hied off to Faerie…and left Fíli to lie about where they'd gone.
He forced his mind from that avenue and to the important bits. Two of his Helpers. Out in the snow. With no experience with such weather. Mahal. "Alright."
"Alright?"
He pointed a finger at her nose. "You do as I say. You do not leave my side without my knowledge and agreement."
"Okay."
Knowing he'd likely regret this, Kíli grabbed her wrist and hurried to the barracks. They'd need extra cloaks and blankets for the two missing brownies if Clove was correct.
OoOoOo
Thorin walked quickly down a dark passageway along the third tier of the mountain, a torch lifted high in one hand. Everyone searched, even the king. A flicker to his left told him Gloin remained near at hand as he inspected the outer wall the next road over.
"Nothing," Thorin growled, opposite hand tight about Orcrist. Mahal. They'd been at this for hours already. The urgency of the situation pressed down upon him with growing intensity. How fared Bofur? What were the orcs doing to him even now? Had they begun to question him?
Whirling, he abandoned this street and headed for the next one over.
OoOoOo
At first, Fíli attributed Clove's absence to the flurry of activity needing attention. He was busy himself for hours after Thorin's speech.
But then too much time passed, and her small hand never touched his. Worry goaded him into action. As per Thorin's instructions, he lit a candle, set out a place with food, and seated himself opposite while coordinating the dwarves' search efforts within the mountain. Dwarves streamed in and out of the Hall of the Forefathers, and at last, a brownie appeared.
Timid, this one. Her face was very like his Clove's, but fine scars crisscrossed her features. Mahal. He forced any anger on her behalf from his face, afraid she might misinterpret it for pity. "Lady," he greeted with a dip of the head. Dwarves nearby reacted visibly with outrage at the pain they knew she must have suffered.
"Nutmeg," she said softly, fidgeting in her seat.
"I won't keep you long. Have you seen Clove?"
Her brown eyes darted from his, and she picked up red yarn, unwinding a length between elbow and hand. "She left with Kíli," she whispered.
"She left with…?" Fíli clamped down on his anger. He'd kill him. It was as simple as that. Unless… "Was Kíli aware she was with him?"
A tiny smile appeared on Nutmeg's lips, and impish humor lit her dark eyes as they returned to his. "I believe so, Fíli." A hesitant hand reached across the table and settled on his clenched fist. "He gave her winter gear. Our Kíli won't allow her to come to harm."
"Your Kíli?" he asked.
A bright smile. "He is our favorite." She disappeared with a wink, leaving him gaping at her seat.
"Their favorite," he said, head panning until he met his guard, Skúvar's, eyes. The guard gave him a polite smile.
Mahal. Their favorite?
Their favorite will have some explaining to do when I get a hold of him. Teeth clenched, Fíli headed for the First Hall. When Kíli returned, he intended to be waiting for him.
OoOoOo
Nori bent and picked up the red object laying in the middle of the road. Whistling silently, he fingered it. What was this? It resembled a sock, but it was flat, the seam running right where the center of the foot would be. Not the most comfortable of designs, and the proportions were all wrong, too. A white cuff circled its mouth, and Ori's name was embroidered there as clear as day.
Rubbing fingers against the soft weave with furrowed brow, he gave volume to his whistle, eyes searching the area. Was that another of the odd socks up ahead?
Right.
His unformed tune halted, and he issued a piercing whistle, drawing the attention of the dwarves nearest him. "Dori!"
"Aye?" His shorter brother hurried his way, white hair gleaming in the light of the torch he carried.
"Send word to Dwalin. I think we've found something."
OoOoOo
Kíli scowled at the sky. Cursed storm was making their efforts to find tracks impossible. Sunset had long since passed, and the temperatures were dipping dangerously. It was uncomfortable enough for a dwarf, but for a brownie? He pawed snow from his beard. If this continued, he'd send Clove back indoors to his brother, willingly or not. He'd not risk her coming to harm.
"Prince!"
Kíli turned at Yngva's call, his steps crunching through thick snow to her position. The only female hunter they had, the dark-haired, green-eyed dwarrowdam lifted an object off the ground for his inspection.
Kíli grasped the long needle, muttering to himself as he recognized it for what it was.
"That's Hyssop's," their invisible brownie said. A body leaned into his, shivering beneath her heavy jacket. Kíli frowned and pulled her close, tucking her between his chest and coat to share body warmth.
"You're certain?" Yngva asked, eyes sharp.
"Positive," Clove responded.
Kíli panned around carefully, scanning the surroundings. With no tracks to follow, he had no way of knowing which direction the orcs had headed or even where their exit from inside the mountain might be found.
Yngva's green eyes met his, the same frustration mirrored in their depths.
"We'll find them," Yngva's husband, Gani, said. "Count on it."
Kíli was. He'd match this group of hunters against any elf and expect them to win. Although mayhap I'm a bit biased, he acknowledged with a snort. He rotated the knitting needle between two fingers. "We fan out. If the missing brownies have been dropping clues, we need to locate them."
Yngva brushed off her snow-encrusted cloves with a nod, rising to her feet. Kíli's team spread out, kicking up snow with boots in search of further clues.
Locating one dwarf in particular, Kíli shouted, "Hallur, report to my uncle. Tell him we've found evidence a brownie has passed this way."
"Wait!" Clove tugged upon his coat. "They've been out here for a while already. They'll need their host-families, Kíli."
Hallur hesitated, craning about. The dwarf's chin rose in a short bob, silently questioning.
Kíli lifted a finger. To Clove, "Nyrar and Nyri for Hyssop, aye?"
"How did you know?" Clove asked, the back of her head brushing his chest.
He smirked down at the invisible brownie. "I pay attention. Then to Hallur, "Ríkin and his brothers, too."
Hallur nodded, his beard frozen stiff in the foul weather.
"Summon them to me," Kíli said. "And escort Clove to my brother."
"What?"
Shaking her gently, he said, "You've already been out longer than is wise. Go back inside, warm up. Ask one of the others to join me."
"Kíli," she grumbled.
He located her shoulder with his hands, then set his chin there, giving her woeful eyes. "You wouldn't want my brother to hurt me, would you?" He batted his eyelashes.
She snorted and pushed him. "Not fair."
"Probably not," he said with a grin. "But I'm right." He pressed the brownie to Hallur. "By now, my brother is likely worried. Take her to him, if you please."
"Kíli," she tried again. "Really, I'm fine."
"You'll be more fine if you take a break and warm up," he said. "I know you fear for Hyssop and Pepper, but you do us no good if you succumb to the cold yourself." Then softer, "Clove, we are on the verge of losing one of your people. I'm not risking a second, and certainly not the lass my brother's set his eye upon." It occurred to him that mayhap that wasn't the most discreet of statements – his brother had, after all, been most secretive about their relationship – but as many of the hunters reacted with amusement, he let it go. If Fíli was serious about the brownie, Kíli suspected his brother would need all the support he could get.
Hallur dipped his head, searched out and wrapped Clove's arm around his, and headed back down the Lonely Mountain to Erebor's gates.
OoOoOo
"Aye, 'tis our brownies' work, for sure, Thorin," Ríkin said as he touched the red stocking. "These were for Yule. 'Stockings', the lassies called them. They were to be filled with small gifts and left for each dwarf. They'd not yet decided upon a date for distributing them or the opening of the gifts beneath the tree."
Thorin said something in return, but all Ríkin could do was stare at the stocking. His lassie had spotted the orcs and followed. He could not but fear for her even as pride swelled within his chest. A bold and brave lassie, his Pepper. Truly, he'd not expected her to turn a blind eye and leave Bofur to his fate.
But why, why, hadn't one of the brownies run for aid? Why had they not come to him, or Thorin? Or even their "favorite dwarf", the young Durin whelp?
I'm coming, my lassie. And ye'd best be hale when I find you. He didn't think he could bear to lose her a second time. Not with her bracelet upon his wrist and only one braid lacking in her hair. Not when he'd yet to clap eyes upon her.
