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Chapter XXI - Thorin

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and direct descendent of Durin the Deathless himself, was completely and utterly lost without his hobbits.

For fourteen long months, Bilbo Baggins had been visiting the Shire with Frodo, Bofur, Bifur, Glóril, and a slew of Ereborian guardsman at his side. Thorin had sent Roäc and numerous other ravens to check up on his hobbits throughout their journey and stay in the Shire, but the Dwarf-King also knew that his nerves wouldn't be satisfied until Bilbo and Frodo were back within the safety of Erebor's granite halls and Thorin's protective arms. Everything had been going fine on their return journey and Thorin was expecting both of his hobbits to arrive home later this afternoon. The autumn harvest had begun earlier in the week and Bilbo always insisted on helping Bard and his farmers with their crops, so Thorin wasn't surprised when the caravan didn't show up right on time.

The Dwarf-King smiled from where he stood on the battlements. His husband never returned from Dale's harvest without a cart of pumpkins or several bushels of apples, and that usually meant a lot of delicious desserts would be gracing the Company's dinner tables for weeks to come. Fíli and Kíli had been ridiculously vocal about how much they missed their uncle's cooking and baking, both of them lamenting the utter incompetence of Erebor's pastry chefs when it came to cupcake-making. Bombur and Hania especially would be happy to have their Consort back, if only to relieve them of being the princes' primary chefs and snack providers. If there was anyone besides Dís who could keep Fíli and Kíli obedient and under control, it was Bilbo Baggins.

"Glaring at the horizon isn't going to make your hobbits arrive any quicker, nadadugmil."

Thorin shrugged. "Stranger things have been known to happen."

"Well, Kíli couldn't contain himself any longer," said Dís, her finger pointing to the small figures that were dashing towards Dale. "Not that his students were upset about practice being canceled. The badgers decided to accompany him."

"And what about Fíli?"

"I believe he's almost done with your request. Will Gandalf be arriving with them?"

The sound of horns in the distance interrupted their conversation. Brows furrowed in surprise, Dís and Thorin moved to a higher parapet on the eastern battlements, neither of them quite sure what to make of the unusual bugle. And then another, more familiar horn sounded off in the distance.

"Shit," cursed the princess. "They're under attack."

The royal siblings raced down to the mountain's entrance, both of them shouting out orders and signaling for the Royal Guard to assemble immediately at the front gates. Loud bells and horns echoed across the hills from Dale, where the Erebor dwarves knew that King Bard was already leading a charge against whoever was foolish enough to invade their lands. Goblin and orc attacks had become increasingly rare over the past decade, but Thorin attributed that to the skin-changers constant presence throughout the valley and the rapidly growing strength of Erebor and Dale in northeastern Rhovanion. A few caravans had been ambushed from time to time and Thorin cursed himself for not being more watchful as Bilbo's return approached.

"Your Majesty!" called a young man. Thorin recognized him as one of Bard's visiting diplomats. "My retainers and myself have already saddled our horses. We can give you a swift ride to the battle site if you desire."

Dís shoved him towards the group of men. "Their horses are far swifter than our ponies. Go with them."

"We accept your offer."

Within less than a minute, Thorin, Dwalin, and several of his guardsmen were riding straight for the caravan that had been ambushed. The attack had occurred directly along the River Running in a swampy area that was full of thick foliage and lots of small streams; it was a popular spot amongst the children of Dale for frog-hunting and catching muskrats for their pelts. However, a very steep incline lay on the opposite side away from the river, making the caravan path that ran between the river and the neighboring mountain a blind-spot due to its low elevation. Bard usually ordered patrols to move through the area several times a day, but the harvest had likely diverted many of those regular guards to other areas of the kingdom.

They were nearly upon the ambush site when Thorin saw six large forms race straight down the mountainous inclines, Kíli, Bard, and his militia archers narrowly evading a troll's club as the figures leapt right over top of them. The largest wolf sunk her teeth right into the troll's skull, muzzle twisting from side to side as she attempted to rip and tear the creature's eyes clean out. All of the other wolves went straight into the fray, their powerful forms providing ample protection to the caravan members. Thorin and his guards didn't waste any time in attacking the goblins and orcs, their swords and axes lobbing off heads and limbs as the humans controlled the horses they rode upon. The skin-changers dealt with any warg who was stupid enough to cross their paths.

"Thorin!"

The Dwarf-King looked over at the edge of the incline, watching with wipe eyes as his husband, nephew, and two human children hid behind Currin's massive frame. The skin-changer snarled at the troll in front of her, fangs gnashing and biting at any piece of unprotected flesh she could get a hold of, arrows littering the foul creature's neck and skull where she had already created several sizable holes. Bofur had also smashed the troll's kneecap with his mattock, but nothing seemed to be able to bring the huge creature to the ground.

"Bring it down!" shouted Kíli and Bard from atop the incline. "Shoot its eyes and throat!"

The troll took another swing and clubbed Currin in the ribs. Pushed into a corner, the she-wolf crouched into a defensive stance that completely shielded the hobbits and children from view, her teeth sinking deep into the troll's throat when it ventured too close to her. Thorin ordered the man he was riding with to push towards Currin's position, his heart pounding frantically when he heard a yelp from the skin-changer. And then came the crack...

"Shoot it!"

A slew of arrows rained down on the troll, Bifur and Bofur both slamming into the creature's knees with their weapons. Another large gash suddenly opened up on the troll's lower throat, an invisible figure repeatedly stabbing the collapsed creature over and over again in the neck and upper chest. Thorin immediately jumped off of his horse and ran over to the invisible form. With gentle hands, the Dwarf-King grabbed his husband and pulled him away from the dying troll.

"That's enough, Bilbo," whispered Thorin into his husband's pointed ear. "It's dead, âzyungel. It's dead."

With a gasp of exertion and despair, the hobbit dropped Sting onto the blood-soaked ground and leaned back against his larger husband. Thorin didn't hesitate to reach down and remove the magic Ring from Bilbo's limp fingers. He'd barely done that before Bilbo was scrambling out of his hold and towards Currin's limp form.

"Oh, sweet Yavanna..."

Frodo was standing over the skin-changer's bloodied head, her crushed muzzle leaking copious amounts of blood and saliva from where the troll's club had collided directly with her unprotected skull. Even now, the she-wolf tried to force herself to her feet, small yelps and whimpers escaping from her broken throat. Gandalf appeared not two moments later, his grey robes covered in blood and dirt from the battle.

"What has happened?" demanded the wizard. "Where are our hobbits?"

"Right here, Gandalf," said Bilbo as he attempted to keep Currin from standing up. "We're alright. Just a little bruised and dirty. But Currin..."

The wizard marched straight over and ran his hands over the skin-changer's trembling form. A high-pitched yelp echoed through the air when Gandalf grazed her ribs and muzzle. Frodo scratched her gently behind the ears, blue eyes darting about as the other skin-changers started to descend upon their location. The gasps of Kíli and two of Currin's brothers prompted Thorin to intercept the three of them.

"Is she alright?" demanded the King's middle nephew. "I want to see her. I need to—"

"You need to give Gandalf space to work," said Thorin. "And getting in his way won't help Currin at this point."

Two sets of golden eyes glared at the Dwarf-King, but neither Rowan nor Gwaine pushed their way past Thorin to attend to their ailing sister. Just like Kíli, they watched and listened with baited breath, both of them pacing as Gandalf continued his medical assessment. Meanwhile, Thorin could hear Bard shouting orders in the background, the human King immediately assuming command while the dwarves tended to their wounded. It seemed that another group of orcs and goblins had been spotted further down the road towards Esgaroth, but Thorin was confident that Dale's militias and his own patrols would be able to handle a group of marauding scum.

"What happened?" asked Dwalin.

"She was protecting Bilbo and the children," said the King. "And she used herself as a shield until backup could arrive. I'm surprised she lasted as long as she did, being cornered like that."

The larger dwarf just shook his head in despair. "Always was outrageously stubborn and daring, that girl. She did all that damage?"

"I think she tried to rip its head off. Almost managed it, too."

Kíli was silent at Thorin's side, the young prince leaning heavily on Bilbo as the older hobbit tried to comfort him. Frodo was still at Currin's side, his tiny hands petting the she-wolf whenever she'd whimper in pain. The King could hear his husband whispering softly to Kíli, his hands brushing the young dwarf's tangled hair and upper arms as Currin's brothers paced behind and around them. The rest of the skin-changers, except the badger sisters, had gone ahead to help Bard's militias fend off the next batch of orcs and goblins.

"I've done what I can," announced Gandalf a few moments later. "Thorin?"

"Yes?"

"I need you to send word immediately to Mirkwood and the northern plains," ordered the wizard. "Currin's condition is beyond my expertise. I have done what I can, but the elven healers are the only ones who can save her from a slow, painful death at this point. Do you understand?"

Thorin felt dozens of eyes suddenly land upon him. He had said on numerous occasions that he'd rather throw himself into Erebor's depths than ever ask for help from that tree-shagging, fruity-crown-loving asshole that called himself the King of Mirkwood. Every dwarf in attendance had nodded their heads on agreement during those incidents, heartily agreeing with their King about the uselessness of elves. Bilbo had, of course, kicked him underneath the table, but Thorin stood by his decision that avoiding any and all unnecessary interactions with the Mirkwood elves was ideal for the future.

"There are several others wounded as well," said one of Bard's patrol captains. "At least four of them are quite serious."

"Uncle," whispered Kíli, "Please..."

With a deep exhale of frustration, Thorin signaled for one of his guardsman to come forth. Glancing around to make sure everything was under control in the immediate vicinity, the King handed his seal over to the burly dwarf. He felt Bilbo lean against his side, the hobbit's small hands gripping at the King's armor in relief.

"Fetch me a raven. We must hurry."

Huh, Currin just kind of snuck into this chapter. People have been requesting for some chapters with her in it, but I'm still leery to throw too many OCs around unless I have to for the storyline. Then again, I've been a bitch to her in this chapter, so maybe that makes up for it. And would you look at that, Thorin's being all mature and not utterly pig-headed. Who'd have thought?

Oh, and for the last time: I am NOT pairing any family members up together! No Fíli/Kíli, no Fíli/Frodo, no Kíli/Frodo. I feel like I've said that 50 times already, ugh...