FOURTEEN

The Entrance

Fíli had walked through the soles of his boots. It was so shameful, that here was Elir who'd been brought up as a blacksmith, far more well prepared for a journey like this. And then there was Fíli, the first prince and future King of Erebor, raised with the best of nearly everything that Ewardor had to offer, now walking on temporary soles made from the layers of rabbit skin tied around his feet. He wasn't complaining, he had only himself to blame. But with everything that had happened since he started on this quest, what with the attack on Ric's company, his failure to save Kíli and now this, it was hard for Fíli to understand how Elir could look up to him.

Then again, Elir wasn't looking up at anything right now. He looked about ready to fall asleep on the spot, his chin resting against his chest and arms dangling by his sides.

They'd been walking for nearly six days, seeing nothing but bare wasteland and mountains since the cave. Their supplies were dwindling to say the least — there was near nothing to hunt up here, and neither of them were very good with a bow. Fíli had hit a bird the day before yesterday, stocking them up a little bit, but fire was hard to make and time consuming. They'd agreed only to stay once every day for food and warmth, or they'd loose too much ground on the caravan. Like they hadn't already done that.

On this the sixth day of their hike, the sun had only just risen above the mountain ridge, looking down on them through a thick layer of clouds hanging low. So far, the Dwarves had been extremely lucky with the weather. Just as Fíli thought of this, a lone snowflake fell in front of his nose.

He peered up at the sky. "Snow." No reply came from his companion.

Fíli did not press Elir. His thoughts wandered to a day not many years ago, when Kíli had woken him up with a grin and snow in his hair. They'd spent that day making snowmen that looked like uncle Thorin — at least they had thought so — and starting snowball fights with their friends down the road. Then, Fíli's daydreams turned sour. One of the friends, Berin, got hit by a snowball in the face and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Berin had died in an unfortunate landslide only months after the day Fíli was reliving. Dreamworld Fíli looked around himself, his friends taking no notice of Berin's disappearance. But Kíli was nowhere to be found. In the place where he'd been standing only seconds ago, now lay only a necklace. Fíli picked it up, and immediately his gloves turned red. Instead of Kíli's crest, hanging from the necklace was now a small heart, beating faintly and bleeding profusely. Fíli's stomach turned and he threw the necklace away, screaming and crying.

"What's that?" Elir said suddenly, pulling Fíli from his nightmarish thoughts. "There, up on the hill. Do you see it?"

Fíli looked up and, yes, he could see it. The dark silhouette of an animal standing on top of an elevation, grazing the moss covered rock. It wasn't long before the animal noticed their approach and lifted its head to look at them. It did not run away.

"It's a pony!" Fíli exclaimed a bit too loud. He and Elir shared a look of shock and relief.

Very carefully the two Dwarven boys tried to get closer to the horse without scaring it. It was a small, tan colored thing with dirt and grime smeared into its fur. A tangled mess of hair, twigs and dirt was the only thing recognizable as its mane. The closer Fíli got to it, the more intense was the feeling of dread in his stomach.

"Elir, this looks like Betsy."

"Betsy?" Elir asked.

"It's Dwalin's... a friend of my family. I think this is his pony."

Fíli had only ridden Betsy once, but he was absolutely sure now. The size, the color, it all fit his memory of Dwalin's pony. And the horse did not seem at all scared by the two Dwarves — like she was used to people approaching and handling her. Fíli was now close enough to touch the horse, and when he reached out toward the muzzle, he saw the bridle strapped around the pony's head. He touched the worn leather.

"These are from Ewardor," he confirmed. "She's Dwalin's horse."

"Does that mean King Thorin is out here too?" Elir asked as he started scratching the pony behind the ear.

Fíli did not know what to think. If his uncle and Dwalin were up here searching for them, then how had they missed each other? Maybe they had ridden past when Fíli and Elir were recovering in that cave. But why was Dwalin's horse running around dirty and alone in the mountains?

"She must've bolted," Elir said just then and showed Fíli the reigns. They were torn and the ends of them hung from the bridle.

Fíli was at a loss for words. Was Thorin searching for them? Where they in trouble? Elir looked at him as if expecting an order, but did not wait for one. He grabbed Betsy's mane and pulled himself up onto her back. He held out one hand to Fíli, who looked at it puzzled.

"Let's not waste this chance," he said with a smile. When Fíli did still not follow him, his expression turned grim. "They'd want you to do anything to bring Kíli back."

— — —

Betsy was not in good shape, but she moved way faster than Fíli and Elir did on foot. They made sure to rest more often to relieve the pony, as their weight would tire her too quickly otherwise. But they soon realized that they had crossed the most difficult parts of the Blue Mountains all by themselves. The road they had followed from the beginning lay flat and smooth before them, crossing from one end of an enormous valley to the other. Baren wasteland surrounded them still, but for the first time in weeks, Fíli was optimistic. Sooner or later they'd find a trace of the caravan, and they'd catch up to them even if they had to cross to the other side of the Blue Mountains.

Fíli was the one taking a nap on Betsy's back, head resting against Elir's back, when the latter brought Betsy to a stop. Fíli was roused awake and looked around to see no change. When he asked Elir why they'd stopped, Elir only gestured to the area in front of them.

The road split in two, going in opposite directions, one down a valley to the north, the other up the slope of a mountain in the west. They'd have to choose one, and risk it being the wrong way. One quick look about himself and Fíli knew there would be no signs of the caravan here to help them find the right way. Distress threatened to choke him once more. He looked up the mountainside. Purple colored sky in the distance, the road vanishing before it reached the top, dark green, grey and snow white landscape between there and the Dwarves. The north-going valley promised nothing different, apart from going downhill.

Elir drew a breath. "Which way do we go?"

It was a long while before Fíli responded. "North. It looks darker. Darkness fits a bunch of heartless kidnappers, don't you think?"

Elir did not seem to think Fíli's remark was at all funny, but turned the pony toward the north and pushed her into a slow trot. Hours passed changeless, the sun descending somewhere on their left and leaving the valley even darker and nastier. Fíli was just about to fall asleep again when the horse halted once more, sending his head flying into Elir's back.

"What now!?" Fíli exclaimed.

Elir's elbow charged backwards, hitting Fíli square over the heart and knocking air out of his lungs. He was about to ask what in Mahal's name Elir was doing, but he quickly swallowed his words. A light had appeared in the distance, and there was another noise disturbing the silence in the valley. Like the wheels on the wheelbarrow back home as Dís pushed it across the front yard. Like the wagons being pulled behind horses as Fíli and Kíli walked with Ric and his caravan...

Elir acted on instinct, steering Betsy off the road and out onto the rocky plains. Whoever was coming would never see them in this darkness if they remained still. They demounted the pony and led her in behind some rocks, hoping for their dear lives that she would stay silent. Then they crouched down in front of the animal, each holding a reign, and waited.

For no less than an hour the two Dwarves stayed where they were, watching the road. Through the thick darkness, a line of torches illuminated the wagons as they passed. Fíli could not believe his eyes. Seven wagons, exactly the same as the ones he'd seen on the mountain field, rolled in single file down the road, back the way Elir and Fíli had come. Men walked beside them, rode on horseback and sat in the coachman's seat on the wagon roofs. Fíli's eyes fell on the barred windows of one of the wagons. His heart contracted and disgust filled him. Were they keeping Dwarves in there? Was Kíli in there with them?

"We can't take them," Fíli said, hating the words but accepting them. "We'll follow them."

"What if they've already left our people somewhere and are heading back out again?" Elir asked.

Fíli thought long and hard. "They do not look like Beidon's folk. It must be another caravan. It would be futile to try and attack Ewardor and Narendor again. They must be coming from another village on the other side of the mountains — Agredrind perhaps." There did not live many Dwarves in Agredrind, but Fíli was too determined to let that small fact cause doubt now.

"You could be right," Elir whispered.

"I think we should have gone up the mountain road. I say we follow them."

Elir put a hand on Fíli's shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am." He wasn't lying. If Elir wanted to be lead by him, then this was the time he would not regret doing so. "Are you with me?"

"Always," Elir said without hesitation.

And so the two young Dwarves sat up in the saddle, waited until the caravan was out of hearing range and followed the light of it's torches in the night. They remained far behind and rode in complete silence. Dawn broke and the sun rose behind them before they reached the splitting of the road again. The going was agonizingly slow, but Fíli's spirits were lifted when they witnessed the caravan make for the mountain pass instead of back toward Ewardor. He'd made the right call.

The road started an almost unnoticeable climb upwards. In daylight Fíli and Elir had to stay a mile behind the caravan and kept as close to the rocks as possible. Betsy proved to be a burden more than helpful now that they could not stay on the road. But when darkness fell once more, and they had nearly crossed the mountain, the Dwarves dared mount the pony and close back in on their unknowing guides. Fíli was the one holding the reigns now, with Elir resting sleeplessly against his back. The lights of the caravan vanished behind a hill, and Fíli repressed an urge to quicken the pace in fear of losing sight of them. As the Dwarves crossed the top of the path, the caravan came back into view. Now before them was a ravine, so deep that the light of the moon only cast shadows into its bottom. A thick layer of mist lay like an ocean on the rocky floor far below.

It was midday by the time they reached the bottom of the valley, and still the fog had not lifted. It was long since they had lost sight of the caravan, and Fíli drove Betsy forward with care and urgency. He simply could not accept that they had gotten lost in this accursed...

Something came flying toward them and buried itself in Betsy's neck. The horse wailed like nothing Fíli had ever heard, then flung herself left and right. Both Dwarf boys flew off and landed on top of each other on the ground, the flailing horse falling to the ground and kicking rocks and sand in their eyes.

"Get up!" Elir yelled in Fíli's ear. Fíli felt himself being pulled by the arm, then he fell into a head-over-heels sprint in a random direction, Elir still holding a firm grip on his sleeve.

Fíli was faster than Elir, and the fear of an attack took over. Fíli pulled his small axe from the sheath on his back, and Elir unhanded him to reach for his own weapon. An arrow came flying through the air, hitting the ground several meters from where Fíli was running. Over the sound of his footsteps and heavy breathing, he could hear nothing of his pursuers. He did not stop, nor try to look back and see who was attacking them. He ran like never before. Then he came to a dead stop, for suddenly his path was blocked by... Dwarves?

Five of them, tied together with ropes and chains in single file. Old and young, beards of all colors and sizes. Dirty, injured and starved beyond recognition. Fíli found himself to believe he was seeing things that weren't there. The fog was still thick, but Fíli could see rocks and the side of a cliff rising into the unseen sky. Not far away stood a wagon parked, its back door open and its inside empty. Two Men stood with their backs turned.

"Get in line, or they'll kill you!" one of the Dwarves suddenly whispered, then reached out with his tied up hands and pulled Fíli towards him. Without as much as a second thought, Fíli placed himself with his hands in front of him behind the Dwarf, pretending to be tied up. He dropped the axe and kicked it away from him. He craned his neck to let his hair hide his face, and forced himself to slow down his breathing. He could feel Elir behind him, touching his back with his hands. A shadow passed on Fíli's right, but he dared not look up. The feet were small and looked human, though. Then came the rattling of a chain and the line of Dwarves were forced to move forward. Fíli followed suit, and Elir was on his tail. Then came the call:

"There! The dark-haired one! Get him!"

Fíli's heart contracted and he almost turned around to defend himself and his friend. But Elir's hand was still on his back, pushing him forward. He felt a warm breath on his shoulder as Elir leaned closer.

"Play your part."

That's the last thing he ever heard Elir say. Seconds later two pairs of hands grabbed Elir and dragged him away. Fíli could hear his tormented screams and the struggling, but he did not look back. He was frozen, his face still twisted in the same panicked expression. He grabbed the shirt of the Dwarf in front of him and held it tight. He watched his feet move forward, the dirt-covered rabbit skin dragging up dust. Shadow fell over the Dwarves and all sound had an echo to follow it. They had walked inside somewhere, into a mountain tunnel. And he could hear Elir no more — only the voice in his head: Play your part.

Play your part.

DON'T KILL ME, PLEASE! I KNOW IT'S A CLIFFHANGER BUT I'LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU, I SWEAR!

I feel like the ending of this chapter is a bit rushed, but I've kept you guys waiting for far too long. Now more than ever I'd like to know what you think of this chapter! Reviews are a blessing, so thank you awesome gals and guys in advance!

Next up — Chapter 15: The Captives (we've reached the beginning...)