Chapter 14: The Raven
Tauriel cast her eyes at the sky, wary of the dark clouds swarming in from the north. An hour past dawn, the entire sky was marbled gray and here and there, a stray snowflake fluttered to the ground.
Legolas helped her lift the two boys onto Beorn's back, but before climbing onto the great beast herself, she spoke softly to Legolas.
"Melon," she told him, "it does not sit well in my heart to leave you to this task on your own."
"One elf or two, it matters not," said Legolas shortly, "if the aim is stealth, not to fight. Look for me tomorrow."
"You will be looked for," answered Tauriel, but she felt uneasy to look upon her friend, who had become stony and withdrawn. He did not meet her eye. He hadn't, really, not since he night before departing Dale.
"Take these two," said Legolas, "and warn the men of Dale. We know some of the orcs' numbers and movements, and by tomorrow, I will know more. With the weather turning, they may descend once more upon the city. The men should be readied."
"For what my warning is worth, it shall reach them," Tauriel assured him.
Legolas lifted his hand in parting, and Tauriel returned the gesture. But it was stiff, formal, without the warmth of their past friendship. Tauriel swallowed. Legolas turned away, into the wind, casting his eyes toward the horizon.
"Legolas?" she said.
The prince turned back to look at her once more.
"You will be looked for," she repeated.
Legolas smiled slightly, but his eyes were sad.
"You have nothing to fear, Tauriel. Now haste!"
And with that, the elven prince took off at a run, a lone brown figure on the hills on the dim winter morning.
Kili slowly opened his eyes and looked about the strange, scantly furnished chamber. Though in everything but official coronation he was King-Under-the-Mountain, the Company still shared his space, sprawled out on bedrolls about the chamber and creating an orchestra of snoring. Just as it had been in the days of their journey from Ered Luin. The only difference was the absence of two dwarves.
Kili had slept long and hard the night after the burial. Despite the horrors of the previous days, his sleep that night was deep and untroubled. When he awoke, his thoughts were blissfully blank, his heart surprisingly light, and the pain from his chest wound much dulled.
He gingerly lifted himself form his bedding, did his top buttons, and reached for his belt and boots. He patted his bandages, a little tight they were, having been freshly changed the night before. Once dressed, he quietly stalked out into the main hall so as not to wake the sleeping Company.
"Kili?" said a quiet voice in the dark hallway. "Is that you?"
"Bilbo?"
Kili crept closer. The hobbit, who had slept in the Company's chamber the night before was now fully dressed and padding down the hall towards him with a most curious look in his eye.
"Oh, good, I was just coming to fetch you. You will never believe this, but I was just at the gate, and a raven, of all things, came asking for you! Most curious, don't you think?"
"A raven? Are you sure?" said Kili, and a fire of Thorin's old tales lit in his mind. "Did you invite him inside?"
Bilbo looked suddenly unsure.
"Er, should I have?"
"Never mind now! Let's go find him."
The hobbit, perplexed, took off after the dwarf, who tore swiftly down the hallway, out into the main hall. Many of Dain's dwarves had taken up residence near the gate, still sleeping in their battle tents.
A few dwarves were already awake at this early hour and milled about. A small group of five particularly swarthy dwarves stood in a cluster, surveying a pile of stone and quietly discussing plans to move it and rebuild a fortification elsewhere in the mountain. They looked up at Kili, giving him dark looks and muttering to each other as he passed.
The heaviness that had lifted in his sleep descended once more, and all at once. He glanced at Bilbo, who smiled up at him weakly and shrugged.
"He was right out here," said Bilbo, clearing his throat and leading Kili through the gate. "I told him I would fetch you."
Kili blinked as his eyes adjusted from the dark mountain cavern to the morning light. On a rock by the gate stood a very old, very ragged, yet very regal raven staring at him with misty, half-blind eyes.
"Kili, son of Dis, daughter of Thrain," croaked the raven, and Kili couldn't help but smile, despite his doubt, for he remembered the stories of the ravens of Erebor from long ago in his childhood.
"I am Roac, son of Carc," continued the raven, bobbing his head in what might pass for a formality amongst birds. "Carc is dead, but he was well known to your people once. Many years have passed since I came out of my egg. Now I am the chief of the great ravens of the Mountain. We are few, but we remember still the king that was of old. Most of my people have been abroad these long years, though since Bard slew the dragon, the birds are gathering once more to the Mountain and Dale. It was good tidings, indeed, to learn that Erebor is rid of Smaug, and that men, dwarves, raven and thrush alike may once more live peacefully in these lands."
Kili and Bilbo were silent for this speech. Kili smiled slightly at the old bird.
"Welcome, then, Roac, and well met! Though I am of Thror's line, I myself was born far west over the Misty Mountains. Though even there the tales of your people are still told today. What brings you to our gate this morning?"
"I came last night but the dwarf king was not to be found, so I returned once more this morning, for it is an urgent matter. I seek counsel with the King-Under-the-Mountain," croaked the old bird. "My sons keep their eyes open, and I keep my ears open, so we have learned that this title has fallen to you."
"Yes," said Kili heavily. "I'm afraid it has. Well, what can the King-Under-the-Mountain do for the Chief of the Ravens?"
"The ravens," began the old bird, limping closer to Kili on scabby, black legs, "have always kept close friendship with Durin's folk, and we have born his line secrets and counsel for many long years. It is my duty to warn you now: a danger descends upon this mountain, and all who dwell within it!"
Kili looked upon the bird incredulously. The blood had drained from Bilbo's face.
"A danger?" said the hobbit. "What danger? As if we haven't had danger enough already!"
"You can't be serious!" said Kili. "The dragon is dead and the orcs have been driven back. How could there be possibly be more? Their lairs in the mountains must be all but emptied! What is it you know?"
"It is not the orcs that worry me, young king," said the raven, "though perhaps before long we must look to them, too. No, it is the hastening snow and winter that threatens Durin's folk."
At this, Kili almost laughed.
"But we are safe within our mountain halls, and well provisioned by my cousin, Dain. The harshest winter will not break us. It is not like when we were only thirteen dwarves with an army of elves upon our doorstep!"
The raven looked somber, and he cast his dim eyes at the broken city of men in the distance.
"This winter will not be so kind for the men of Dale," said Roac, "my sons tell me it is only a matter of weeks before an icy death is upon them all. Not unless they receive help, and quickly."
Kili blanched. Could it really be true, what Roac said?
"I did not know the men were so poorly provisioned," muttered Kili. "Bard said nothing of it."
"Perhaps Bard didn't think it was the right place," offered Bilbo.
Is it really a surprise though? he added to himself guiltily. The men had been bad off before. The battle had not changed that, even if the elves had helped some.
Kili thought of the man's face, grim, yet honest, passing him the Arkenstone the other day... and asking for nothing in return. Had there been a game there?
Was this part of some game?
"Though I was but a young bird when the dragon came," said Roac, "I remember a wide, green valley before this mountain kingdom, and an endless stream of carts sent by men through these very gates. I do not think the might of Erebor shall be so easily restored without the strength and goodwill of Dale. If Dale falls, Erebor shall come crumbling after."
Kili cast his eyes at the white city. Tiny pillars of smoke marked the presence of men trying to keep warm in the mountainside city.
"Though we ravens be a proud race," said Roac darkly, "we are not mighty, and I will be the first to admit that. Only men and dwarves can hold these lands against orcs. Had the battle turned the other way, all who remained of my people would have fled. That is the counsel I have to offer. You will do what you will do, of course; my people are well-acquainted with the stubbornness of dwarves. Fare well, King-Under-the-Mountain, and may we meet again soon!"
"Farewell Roac, and thank you," said Kili. The bird hobbled from the rock and caught the wind in his rickety wings.
"Farewell!" cawed the bird once more as he fluttered off towards Ravenhill.
"I must speak with Bard right away," muttered Kili.
"I'll come with you," said Bilbo.
"You will?"
The hobbit shrugged.
"I've rather found you dwarves are, well, forgive me, but you can be rather appalling when it comes to diplomacy."
"We are not," said Kili automatically. Then he added quietly, "We are not all Thorin."
But he didn't turn Bilbo away, either.
When Dwalin woke up, Kili was nowhere to be found. This filled him immediately with a sense of dread. None of the Company had seen him leave, but Dori pointed out that Bilbo had also departed the chamber early that morning.
"The lad was in a bad state yesterday," Dwalin confided in his brother. "I don't like to think he's off wandering by himself."
"Perhaps you're right," said Balin. "Or perhaps he merely woke up before everyone else and went to stretch his legs. Still, probably best we keep track of the king, eh?"
The brothers entered the main chamber together. It was filled with bustling dwarves carrying stone from the gate, and many dwarves crouching beside small fires, eating hot porridge. Dwalin's own stomach grumbled, but he ignored his hunger.
Dwalin strode up to group of chattering dwarves.
"Alright," he said, "any of you lot seen our king this morning?"
An odd silence fell over the group. Dwalin saw many furrowed brows. Their faces turned away from him.
"What king you be talking about?" said one particularly bold dwarf with a jet black beard. "Surely not that Ered Luin lad with questionable claim to this kingdom? The one who consorts with elves."
So there it was. The words hit Dwalin like a punch to the gut. Dwalin exchanged a dark look with Balin. Balin's face was calm, but his fingers were trembling.
"No," said Balin lightly. "I'm afraid I'm looking for Kili, son of Dis, daughter of Thrain, the last direct heir of Durin himself, and King-Under-the-Mountain. Have you seen him?"
"The king left for Dale with the hobbit, not long ago," said another dwarf off to the side in a gruff voice.
"Thank you," said Balin, not taking his eyes off the black-bearded dwarf.
Dwalin felt his anger boil up inside him. Without thinking, his arm shot out and grabbed the black-bearded dwarf by the collar. He drew him close and glared at him directly in the eye.
"Don't say that again," he growled, "and I may just forget you said it the first time."
The dwarf simply glared back at Dwalin.
"What's your name?"
"Holf," spat the dwarf.
"Good. I can remember that name," said Dwalin with a mad gleam in his eye. He let go. The dwarf pulled away quickly, but his glare held Dwalin's.
"Let's go," hissed Balin in Dwalin's ear.
"You can't go around doing that Dwalin," said Balin once they were out of earshot, "and expect to clean up after Kili's blunders. Have you ever known a dwarf to stand by his king because of fear?"
Dwalin's shoulder's sank under his older brother's stern gaze.
"Then what are we to do?" he shouted.
"We stand by our king, as we always have," said Balin, with a sigh.
Spreig gasped out loud as Beorn crested the hill. Dale, in its shattered magnificence, lay white and gleaming before them under the dull winter sun.
"You've truly never seen it before?" said Tauriel. "And you've been living in these hills all this time?
Spreig seemed to take great offense to this.
"It's not like I've seen nothing," said the boy. "I've seen Lake-town, and the Long Lake. Was there with my father last spring."
"And yet you had never seen elves before," laughed Tauriel.
The boy scowled.
"You didn't see any of my people before now."
Tauriel looked at him slyly.
"I've met the Lake-men for the first time long ago," she said. "For many years have my people come to the shore for trade."
"But we're not Lake-men," said the boy triumphantly. His eyes seemed to drift far away. "That was important for Da, that we were different from them."
"Why?" asked Tauriel.
"Because," said the boy, "a long time ago, my folks fled from Lake-town. Things got ugly, as my Da put it."
"Are there more of you?" asked Tauriel thoughtfully. "More or your people in the hills?"
"I hope so," said the boy. He clutched Leif, the small boy, tighter.
Leif still did not speak, but his eyes seemed clearer than when they had found them. They were fixed on Dale, and his mouth opened wide in wonder.
"See that, Leif?" said Spreig. "That's Dale. You remember it from the stories, don't you? We'll be safe there."
As the boys gazed onward to salvation, Tauriel glanced over her shoulder at the snow-dusted hills, but there was no sign of Legolas.
Bard was standing on the wall when Kili and Bilbo arrived to Dale on a pair of ponies, wrapped in cloaks against the wind. The man looked upon them curiously, and came down to greet them.
"You are welcome here, of course," said the man, "but I must ask, what brings the dwarf king to Dale? And with a hobbit instead of fanfare?"
Kili winced as he dismounted his pony (for he was still quite injured).
"The hobbit seems enough fanfare for this dwarf king," said Kili. "And I have found him more useful than banners and trumpets."
Bilbo smiled, a little embarrassed, and nodded at Bard in greeting.
"It's an urgent matter," pressed Bilbo. "Perhaps very urgent for you. Is there somewhere we can talk?"
Bard's dark eyes flickered between the two of them, puzzled. Bard nodded.
"Follow me," the man of Dale said.
It was lucky there was still fuel to be found, Sigrid reflected. Though the forests and fields that had blanketed the country had long ago been burned by Smaug, bushes and brambles had persisted on that rocky land surrounding Dale, and while they didn't burn quite as hot and true as logs from the forest, it was enough to melt snow for water and keep from freezing entirely.
Tilda wandered a little ways down the slope, gathering her own bundles to bring back to the city. The snow clouds meant it was a little warmer today... but the threat of snow in this country made Sigrid nervous. Once the snow fell thick, there would be no thaw until spring, and difficult passage for any carts through the land.
When Sigrid looked up, her heart leapt, for she saw a great bear lumbering towards them. She was a half second away from running to protect Tilda, before she came to her senses and realized the red-haired elf was riding atop the bear.
"Tauriel!" called Sigrid, waving her arm high above her head. The elf raised a hand in response.
The bear drew close to them, and Tauriel gracefully slid from his back. Tauriel smiled in greeting.
"How fares your sister?" she asked kindly. "And yourself?"
But Sigrid did not answer; she was looking at the boys, and they were looking at her.
"Who are they?" asked Sigrid in a blank voice.
"Children we found in the wild," said Tauriel quietly. "Their village had been raided by orcs. They were the only survivors, as far as we know. Will you help me find a place for them in Dale?"
Sigrid's stomach clenched. The boys looked worse for wear and half-starved. But she was also thinking about Dervis and Hilda's careful calculations, and her bright-eyed little sister, running up the hill to get a closer look at the marvelous bear and the elf maid.
But Sigrid forced a smile and met Tauriel's eye.
"Of course I will."
What else can I do?
"And I must speak with your father," said Tauriel urgently. "I bring news of the orcs."