Chapter Twenty-Five

Live like Kings

In the few weeks he had known her, Radin had to admit he was impressed by the hobbit women's persistence and strength. Not to mention her ingenuity. He was sure that if she didn't have her father, cousins and son with her, she would have escaped from their grasps in a heartbeat. But as she did, she came up with various ways of trying to get her family safely away from her captives. But, by no fault of her own, the hobbits were always ended up being caught at the last moment and the hobbit lass was beaten for her disobedience. But she never broke. She took each beating in silence and when it was over, she glared back at her captors with such defiance and regality, that Radin wouldn't be surprised if she was secretly a queen. Well, she was mother of a bastard child of a king, so he supposed she had some right to have a regal air about her.

He wondered how long Bovin and the others would put up with her repeated attempts to escape with her family as he highly doubt that she was going to give up any time soon. She would continue to try and escape with her family until the last breath of life left her body.

She was brave for one so small. Not only that, she was kind. To him, to his brother and for that he liked and admired her all the more.

Guilt over what he knew would happen to her and her family ate at him during every waking hour of every day they travelled closer to their journey's goal.

With each passing day he wanted to tell her the truth about their destination, the truth of what she and her family would be facing for at this moment the hobbit appeared to think that the Dwarven King of Erebor had something to do with her abduction.

She question Bovin constantly over who was behind her kidnapping, demanding to know if the Durin King had something to do with it.

Bovin had only smiled a self-satisfied, knowing smile back at her. But still she tried, every moment of every day, she tried.

Radin glanced over his shoulder, back along the rocky and unstable path that they were currently marching along through the misty mountains to where the hobbits were moving miserably behind him.

The two younger male hobbits moved well enough. As did the third when he wasn't whining over lack of food, comfort and everything else under the Sun. But the hobbit lass, with her father and child, moved much slower. It was her father that was slowing her down the most for she refused to be separated from him.

With each passing day the old hobbit grew all the more frailer and weak. His mind was, it seemed, to be in an even worse state than his body, for it wander and left him as nothing better than a staggering, breathing shell.

His slow progress was slowing the whole expedition down and Radin feared what would happen to them all if they reached the meeting point that had been organised between Bovin and Bzog well after the date that they were due.

If he had been able to, he would have had all the hobbits on top of ponies but due to the path that Bovin had chosen to take them through the Misty Mountains, ponies and horses were unable to come with them due to the treacherous path. This meant that the hobbits had to walk, on their much shorter legs, with the old one coming nearer and nearer to his death with each step he took.

Radin wonder if the old hobbit would even live to see their destination. It might even be a mercy if he didn't, for him to die along this mountain pass and not have to face the cruel intent of the Orc pack that awaited his daughter.

Camp was called as they came upon a small mountain river, bitterly cold but utterly refreshing when splashed against wind bitten faces or drunk down dry, raw throats.

The hobbits huddled together, the youngest and the oldest in behind the other four, the brave hobbit lass at their front glaring daggers at them all.

Radin turned his attention away from the hobbits and focused on helping with setting up camp and getting dinner ready.

"W're moving too slowly, cousin." Bodiol son of Borgial grumbled to Bovin as he bit into a piece of tough bread.

"I know." Bovin growled as he shot a glance in the direction of the six hobbits, unsurprised that the little female met his gaze and glared furiously back at him.

She had spirit; he'd give her that, even if she was the most obnoxious, infuriating little wrench in all of Middle-Earth. If he did not have a job to accomplish that involved her being alive and unspoilt, he would have throttled her by now. Her and her brat. But both were worth a pretty penny, so killing them would not work in his favour. The only reason he hadn't yet gotten rid of the other four Halfling was due to the simple fact that they slowed her down. Her escape attempts probably wouldn't have failed if she was simply trying to escape with her son. The other four Halflings messed up her escape attempts every time and for this reason, and this reason alone, was why he hadn't killed them yet. And you never know, they themselves might be worth something on the market.

Even so, they were moving far too slowly for his likening and the hobbit lass was growing more and more restless and uncooperative the further they moved into the mountains.

He worried that she might try and pull yet another escape attempt and that this time she might just manage it. There were lots of places along the mountainous road that they were marching along for six silent footed little creatures to hide undetected by pursuers, even with members of the group being very old and very young.

He glanced back at the Shirelings, the Halfling lass once again meeting his gaze with a heated glare.

"Little bitch is getting on my nerves." He growled to Bodiol who grunted in agreement.

"S'll be in Bzog's hands 'oon enough."

"Not at the pace we're currently moving at." Bovin snarled angrily. "We're expected to hand her over before summer's ends but at the rate we're moving at, it'll be well into autumn before we reached the meeting place."

"And e'll be out 'ooking for us be'ore then." Bodiol added with a small shudder.

"That he will. That he will. And who knows what he'll do to us then." Bovin growled. They needed to speed up their progress or it would be their heads that would have the bounty over them.

"And I don't 'ant to find out." Bodiol grumbled. "'umething needs to be done Bovin or it'll be our heads rolling, not the King under the Mountain's."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Bovin growled in response as he absently rubbed the back of his neck. "Give me a moment to think."

"Don't s'pose we could just leave all but the wench." Bodiol grumbled.

"We need the lad." Bovin grunted.

"Do ya think that Durin's King will really believe he sired the brat?"

"A half-wit could tell the brat's his. Even if he is a mongrel." Bovin snorted in disgust.

"Even so, he 'ight try an deny it."

"He won't." He cousin looked at him questioningly, "the dwarf's too damn honourable for his own good. He'll take one good look at the lad, hear where we found him and the wench's name and we'll be able to name our price for the brat's head. Durin's line holds their family line close, and I'm sure the lad will be no different."

"Even if he's a 'ungrel bastard?"

"Even if he's a mongrel bastard." Bovin grinned wickedly, "Especially when he's the mongrel bastard son of the King under the Mountain."

"He might just pay us 'ore to 'imply ring the brat's neck." Bodiol muttered.

"No, not this King. Besides," Bovin grinned at his cousin, "it'll be more fun to watch the King be humiliated by this mongrel in front of his whole kingdom then for us to be paid to quietly snap the boy's neck ourselves. We'll make ourselves a pretty penny parading him in front of everyone in that damnable mountain. Then when he can't bear the disgrace and shame anymore, Thorin Oakenshield will pay us whatever we ask to be rid of the brat. Only once we have the money, we'll leave him with the brat and he can have one of his men to snap the brat's neck."

"Well, at's the brat taken care of. But w've still got the issues with 'is mother. And how we going to deliver the mother without Bzog finding out about the son? 'e'll be wanting the brat once 'e finds out who the father is."

"We split up before we reach the meeting place. One group goes and stops a short distance from Erebor, with the brat and the other Halflings and I and another group will take the wench to Bzog. Once we've delivered her to Bzog, we'll back-track to you lot, head to Erebor, throw the brat into bloody Oakenshield's face, get our money and get out of there. We'll be living like Kings before winter's out, cousin my friend." Bovin said with a wide grin.

"Bzog aint gonna appreciate not being given the brat long with the wench." Bodiol rumbled as he took a long swig of strong smelling rum from his water skin.

"How will he ever know about him? Oakenshield will try and hush it all up."

"t'ese t'ings have a t'ancy to get around, no matter how hush hush it is."

"What does it matter, in the end?" Bovin asked as he pulled out his pipe, filled it with pipeweed and lit it, "by the time he does hear of the brat, we'll be long gone and with any luck, he and Oakenshield will have killed each other before they give us more than a moment's thought." He blew out a large smoke ring as he smirked.

"As I said, my good friends, we'll be living like Kings by winters end. And we'll have killed two birds with one stone by the end of this venture."

"You've given 'is a lot of t'ought, 'aven't you cousin?"

"That I have." Bovin smirked. "That I have." He blew another smoke ring into the night, his mind plotting away his next move in this very complicated game that he was playing.

Author's Note: This chapter (and the next) very nearly killed me to write... almost to the point where I was ready to simply give up on this fanfic completely. I haven't, obviously, but these next few chapters really did make me come close. It's all Bovin's fault!
He didn't much like the fact that I didn't want him to become Middle-Earth's own Ramsey Snow/Bolton so he made himself even harder to write - like he wasn't a hard enough character to write to begin with... the Ar$$hole! - Honestly I want to kill him, the miserable sod! And his cousin. Don't ask me what accent Bodiol has or why he talks the way he does. I think he got dropped on his head one too many times as a kid and he bit some of his tongue off when it happen and that's why he talks in the stupid way he does. Honestly, I had no control over the way he talks, he spoke and I wrote and this what I ended up with. I honestly hate them both.

Anyway, I should probably stop whinging about my own characters. You all are probably extremely tired of reading my rambles on how much I hate Bovin and so on and are more interested in finding out when the next update for this will be and how far I am with the story.
Well, the next update will be in a weeks time and I'm currently writing chapter 30 which is proving to be difficult for a whole world of other reasons, though its still all Bovin's fault, of course.

Bye for now! Reviews are loved and if you have any questions about this story, don't hesitate to ask, I'm happy to answer them the best I can, though without revealing too much of the plot, of course :D

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