Chapter 25
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its wonderful characters are owned by JRR Tolkien, not me.
A/N: Happy Hump Day to all! So excited to share a new chapter with you! Thank you all for your lovely reviews, and a hearty welcome to the couple new followers that have recently joined us! Also a shout-out to summerald, both for her unfailing support and assistance, AND a shameless promo of her fics. Her most recent chapter had me falling out of my seat—you should go check it out!
In other news, my sister and I performed a cover of Anthem Light's "Where the Light Is" for a You Tube video contest. The video with the most views by August 14 wins, so if you wouldn't mind taking a second to do a You Tube search on "Where the Light Is Anthem Lights cover GFS," I'd be highly appreciative! You guys are so supportive and awesome, I love to share my art with you in the hopes that you find it encouraging and enjoyable!
Without further ado, back to the King Under the Mountain and his brave little brother!
Fíli sighed, already certain that this was likely to be the worst part about being King Under the Mountain. The Council meetings, countless parchments to sign and seal, even the political maneuvering was easier than what he was about to have to do.
Honestly, he'd have rather put it off until he got Kíli safely home; but several council members-including Balin-had insisted he clean up the matter of Kerif, Son of Derin, before leaving the Mountain. Fíli supposed he understood the necessity; it would be madness to ride off into danger with a traitor loose in his kingdom, and Fíli refused to lock the lad up again, given his recent actions. He owed Kerif his life.
No, the lad's punishment would be severe enough without an additional stay in Erebor's dungeons, humane though they may be.
He entered his throne room, surprised to see a rather large audience gathered. Dwarves from all walks of life had shown up-miners, merchants, and smiths mingled in the large hall, along with political figures, council members-Fíli even saw Princess Nalla of Ered Mithrin standing grimly near the front of the crowd. He had to suppress a shudder at the sight of the lass, and immediately felt ashamed-Nalla was nothing like Yusräa, it was hardly her fault she'd been targeted and her identity stolen. Shaking his head, Fíli sent Balin a questioning look regarding the size of the audience, and the older dwarf leaned over to murmur in his ear:
"It's your first time sitting on that throne as a judge. This moment will go far toward establishing what kind of ruler you wish to be, laddie."
So no pressure, then.
Slowly he sat in the ornate stone throne, his rich robe pooling on the polished floor and the reflected light catching the gems in his crown. Fíli was quite unaware, though he would be informed later when the sketch artists and painters completed their works, that he looked every bit the regal King Under the Mountain in that moment, his gaze stern and solemn, the weight of his duty apparent.
A murmur went through the crowd as, at a gesture from the young King, Kerif was escorted into the hall. He had just been deemed fit to stand judgment by the healers the day before, and had been held under supervision in the Healing Wing to await his audience with the King.
Fíli looked down at the lad, noting his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. Coupled with the bloody knuckles on his right hand and the resigned way he held himself, the lad looked the very picture of defeat. Fíli stamped down the wave of sympathy that nearly toppled his stern facade. Kerif had been through hell, Fíli knew that.
But justice must be served. The King had made his decision, and he would stand by it.
"Kerif, Son of Derin," he began, projecting his voice so that the resonant stone would catch the sound and help amplify it for the assembled citizens standing in the Hall. Kerif flinched visibly, and Fíli nearly stopped right then. All he could see was the time a young Kíli had stood before Thorin, awaiting his punishment for a brash decision that had nearly cost Fíli and five others their lives. That had been thirty years ago now, but he still vividly remembered Kíli's deep brown eyes finding the stone beneath his feet, his shoulders hunched just the way Kerif's were right now. Fíli had pled loud and long with his Uncle to lessen Kíli's punishment for the youthful mistake, and he was seized with a painful desire to do the same for the lad standing before him.
A tiny sound of distress escaped his throat, and Balin looked hard at him, a look that said clearly, you cannot back down. Continue, lad.
Fíli cleared his throat. "The sentence for your crime of treason against the King Under the Mountain, and through him, the entire kingdom of Erebor, is death." The assembled dwarves collectively gasped softly, though not one of them was surprised by the pronouncement. It was the standard punishment for a traitor to be killed by the one against whom his crime had been perpetrated. Fíli looked over the assembly, noting Nalla's face go pale.
But he wasn't done. He held up a hand to quiet his audience, and they complied without hesitation.
Fíli looked Kerif in the eye, holding his gaze and hoping to communicate to the lad that he was long since forgiven in Fíli's eyes; that he had to be punished, but that Fíli held no ill-will toward him. "However," he boomed, and complete silence fell hard and fast. "Given your heroic actions two days ago against the Sorceress Yusräa, and that they preserved the life of this King, that sentence seems to me...excessive. Therefore, in the tradition of Doff, Ancient Judge of Erebor, you are eligible to be Spoken For. If an Innocent is willing to step up and speak to your changed character and loyalty, your life will be spared and you will be instead exiled from this kingdom, never to return again. Is there any here who is willing to speak for Kerif, Son of Derin, in the matter of Treason against the Kingdom of Erebor?" Kerif looked up at Fíli with red-rimmed eyes, his face a mask of gratitude, though they both knew the chances of an Innocent speaking for a traitor were nearly nonexistent.
Still, it was a chance for the lad, and left him with no doubt of Fíli's forgiveness.
"I will speak for him," came a decidedly feminine voice from the crowd, confidently. Fíli blinked.
Princess Nalla stepped forward, pointedly ignoring the gasps and sounds of shock reverberating about the hall at her announcement. Kerif looked sucker-punched, his eyes wide and jaw slack.
Nalla didn't look at him, though, holding the King's gaze instead. "He saved my life as well, multiple times; protected me from unspeakable horrors and treated me with dignity and respect. I speak for Kerif, Son of Derin, and request that he be released into my custody."
Without hesitation, Fíli gave his blessing on that arrangement, grateful beyond measure to the Princess-he really hadn't wanted to see Kerif executed. Frâr let out a barely-audible shaky sigh from his place beside Fíli, which finally broke the young King's bearing; a tiny smile flashed across his face, quickly stifled.
"Very well," Fíli answered. "It is done. Kerif, Son of Derin, you are hereby exiled from Erebor and placed under the charge of Nalla, Daughter of Duron and Princess of Ered Mithrin. You will be escorted from the lands of Erebor by a Guard after this session adjourns with a week's worth of provisions and weapons for your protection; and you are hereby indebted to Princess Nalla, forever required to dwell near her and defend her with your life until death takes you or she releases you. But if you ever set foot on Erebor stone again, your life is forfeit." He looked at Kerif again and lowered his voice to speak directly to him. "This is your second chance, lad; don't squander it."
Kerif nodded, then turned as two of Nalla's guards came to lead him away. The princess refused to look at him still, instead leaving the Hall quickly and without a word spoken. Fíli wondered at it, but had no time to really consider it.
He was relieved at Kerif's fate, but now he had a brother to save.
Less than an hour later, the King Under the Mountain was riding a shaggy mountain pony south to Esgaroth, blue eyes hard in a stern face as he led a hundred dwarf warriors to join Bard's and Thranduil's forces.
Half a day's hard ride to the South, a gray-clad wizard stood just outside Esgaroth's wood gate and let out a long whistle. His Friend had arrived in the area early that morning and agreed to wait for him to finish his council with Bard and Thranduil, leave a missive for young Fíli, and send a message to Beorn. Now the Istari was standing ready for his journey south, grim-faced.
The pure white Stallion appeared on the horizon, covering the distance between them at a speed that still awed Gandalf, much as he expected it. He greeted the Maera happily, stroking the animal's velvety nose. "What news, Shadowfax?" he murmured, only half-expecting an answer.
The Lord of the Horses was in an amenable mood today. There's a field of the sweetest grass I've tasted in years several miles east, he answered, communicating his pleasure by stomping a hoof contentedly. Gandalf chuckled.
"I do apologize for dragging you from it, lad."
It is no offense, there are more pressing matters at hand.
"Indeed," the wizard answered. "Are you ready for a hard run?"
Shadowfax pawed the ground with a snort. Am I ready? I should ask you the same question, Istari. I will show you the meaning of haste!
Gandalf smiled as the Horse shimmied around, offering his back to the wizard.
"Most excellent, mellon," Gandalf answered. "I must reach the Prince of Erebor and the Eiri lass before Melkor does."
At the mention of the Dark Vala, Shadowfax huffed and shot off so fast it took Gandalf's breath away momentarily.
Hold on Kíli, Ryn. I am coming.
When Ryn and Kíli made it back to camp just after dark, it was to find a small posse awaiting them anxiously. Kíli's original guard were all there-Telchar, Farin, Ibón, Gloin and Raela-along with Lady Dis, Bilbo, Sêla, and Anora. Gimli and Rognus rounded out the group of grim-faced dwarves, looking unreasonably anxious. It was then that it occurred to Ryn that she hadn't told any of them about her father—all they knew was she had left in a panic after healing the little girl that afternoon and had been basically gone since then. A wave of affection swamped her, and she opened her mouth to set their fears to rest.
Kíli spoke to them before she could. "All is well."
The announcement was met with solemn nods. Bilbo spoke up. "Was that man your father, Ryn?" The girl met his gaze squarely. "He is."
"Are you all right?"
She flashed him a forced smile, Fárbjóðr foremost in her thoughts. "Surprisingly, yes."
Bilbo studied her for a minute-though he wasn't the only one, Ryn was aware of several pairs of eyes on her-then nodded slowly. "So did he tell you anything we did not already know?" That was Rognus, and Kíli turned to him with a slow nod.
"He did. Apparently there's another Eiri descendant in these parts, and he's much older and stronger than Ryn."
"Not to mention evil," the lass muttered, then spoke loud enough for the group to hear. "Which is why we really should move now. Put as much distance between us and him as possible."
"He's stronger than Ryn?" Sêla asked softly. Kíli nodded. "The faster we leave this area, the safer we are."
Of that Ryn wasn't so sure, though she agreed heartily that they ought to leave. Now. But if what her father had said was true, Fárbjóðr wasn't likely to be deterred by a couple day's distance between him and the caravan; it boiled down to the fact that if the Eiri found out they were here, it was inevitable he would find them.
And if he found them, he would kill many of them.
Too many of them.
Ryn thought of the tiny dwarflings she'd seen running around giggling earlier that day, the mother dwarf she'd helped defend her family when the orcs attacked a few days prior; she looked around at loose circle of friends that surrounded her and Kíli-Sêla and Anora, the sisters she never had; Bilbo, her first friend who wasn't a Ranger; Gimli and Gloin, the dynamic father-son duo that made her smile every day with their gruff affection-and she decided.
She couldn't let Fárbjóðr anywhere near them.
But how could she keep him away? The answer was simple enough, if exceedingly undesirable. Fárbjóðr wanted her; the easiest way to keep him away from those she loved was to give him what he wanted. Besides, Ryn hated being hunted.
She would much rather be the one hunting.
On the other hand, she was loath to leave Kíli with Melkor looking for him. Also, she had recently come to understand that she was no longer on her own, and she could no longer simply up and go wherever she pleased without any sort of notice. She and Kíli were a team, and she had friends now, who cared about her well-being, people she was accountable to for her own safety. It was different, sometimes it was annoying; but she couldn't live like she had for the last fifty years.
She couldn't just leave.
Ryn swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. She knew what Kíli's answer to her proposed hunt would be. He was learning to not fuss every time she wanted to do something dangerous, but this? Taking off on her own to confront a powerful enemy alone?
Kíli would blow an artery just hearing her mention it.
"-my lady?" Raela's voice cut into her thoughts. She focused on the dwarf lass standing at her elbow and noticed that everyone else was watching her, apparently awaiting a response to a statement she hadn't heard. Ryn blinked. "Yes?"
Her handmaiden motioned to the assembled group. "Telchar believes we should wait to leave until tomorrow."
No. No, no, bad idea….
"What?" she asked incredulously. "Did you miss the part where this Eiri sorcerer can manipulate fire, wind, and isn't interested in healing so much as destroying anyone who gets in his way? And he's after me, and indirectly, Kíli?"
Telchar stood firm. "No, but I also didn't miss Kíli saying that he doesn't know we're here. And if he did, he's still three days' hard ride from here, not even in the same kingdom."
"Yes, but—"
"I realize we need to get as far away as possible," Telchar spoke quickly, inclining his head to show he meant no disrespect. "But everyone is settled for the night, and we still need a day to stock up on supplies, repair broken gear, rest…Ryn, we're more likely at this point to die from exposure as we are an attack by a sorcerer who may or may not be able to catch up to us in the next few days." Several of the assembled dwarves were nodding at Telchar's reasoning, but Ryn's stomach was in knots.
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Kíli?" she asked, turning to him. "You're not honestly considering staying here? Giving him another full day to find us?"
Kíli took a deep breath, turned pleading eyes to his mother, as if looking for advice. "Unfortunately, Telchar raises some legitimate points," Lady Dis said. "Which is why-" she raised a finger to quiet Ryn's sound of protest, "—why I propose a compromise. We depart an hour after dawn. Repairs can be done on the road, we'll trade with the townspeople first thing in the morning for any supplies we still don't have. What say you?"
Ryn hated it, though she saw the logic. But Kíli was nodding, so it was really a moot point.
"Fine," she pinched the bridge of her nose, needing to get away from all these people and think. With affectionate farewells, the dwarves were dispersing to their various places of rest. Bilbo flashed her a smile that really looked more like a grimace, though Ryn barely noticed. Raela touched her arm.
"My lady? Are you all right?"
Every moment we stay still brings danger closer, I must face an enemy more powerful than I could ever hope to be, although that's nothing next to the wrath I'm going to face from my beloved for simply suggesting it. I might die. Worse, I might fail to save some of the ones I've come to love from dying...
"All is well," she responded, quietly. "I'll not require your services tonight, Raela, go get some sleep." She squeezed the lass's plump shoulder and forced a smile. Raela returned it and curtseyed before turning to go.
Ryn took a deep breath, turning to see Kíli waiting for her a few feet off. He held a hand out to her, and Ryn's will almost failed her. She didn't want any of this: she didn't want to leave him, she didn't want him to be targeted by Arda's oldest villain, she didn't want to tell him she was ready to hunt a being that would almost certainly kill her without any effort worth speaking of, didn't want to stay here overnight and spend a sleepless night waiting, Mahal, she didn't want to leave him...
Tomorrow, she decided as she took his hand. Tomorrow I'll talk to him. After I've worked out the plan.
But when a deafening crash mingled with shocked, pained screams rang through the camp four hours later, in the darkest part of the night; and Ryn and Kíli ran out of his tent, weapons in hand, to see a tall pale man throwing balls of liquid fire at everything in sight, Ryn's stomach clenched painfully.
Mahal, no.
Ending A/N: For anyone interested, I will soon be posting a follow-up one-shot concerning Kerif and Nalla. This is the last time we'll see them in this fic, but I've had a couple of readers express real interest in hearing more about them, so look for that follow-up soon. In addition, I'm considering another multi-chapter fic focused solely on those two—would that be something you would all be interested in? PM or review to let me know!
Cheers!