Fili sized up the horsemen, his mind calculating furiously. They were well armed, prepared, whereas he had no swords, no hunting knives, only his boot knives – no, one boot knife. The other he'd used at supper and it was back at the campsite, amongst the dirty dishes. One boot knife, on foot, against four armed riders. He'd faced worse odds. He gritted his teeth and started running, straight for Nyrath.
To his left he saw Hawk turn his horse south and kick it frantically into a gallop, the coward unwilling to face him even when outnumbered. Taft, hurling abuse at Hawk's back as he rode off, circled behind him, while Aurvang sat immobile on his pony to his right, looking blankly between him and Nyrath.
"You've got her. Let's get out of here!" he heard Taft shout from behind him. Without breaking stride Fili stooped and pulled his boot knife, and he saw a flicker of fear appear in Nyrath's eyes. The dwarf kicked his horse forward, pulling sharply on the left rein to turn it south, towards the road. If he spurred his horse out of range, Sigrid would be gone.
Sigrid, however, had other ideas. She lifted her hands high in front of her, her wrists still bound by the reins, and struck backwards to hit Nyrath as hard as she could in the face with her elbow. The horse reared, Nyrath's head snapped back, and he lost his grip on her and slid off the back of the horse to fall heavily on his back. Now was his chance. Fili threw his knife with deadly aim, and it whizzed through the air to hit its mark – the reins in front of Sigrid's hands, where it sliced through the leather like butter to free her. She slid to the ground next to Nyrath a moment before the horse came down from its hind legs and bolted.
"Sigrid! The knife!" Fili shouted. Sigrid untangled her wrists from the scraps of the reins and stumbled towards the spot in the high grass where the knife had fallen. Nyrath, meanwhile, panting heavily, had climbed to his feet and drawn his sword, taking a stance between him and Sigrid, and he held the blade in both hands, the point inches from Fili's stomach.
"I should have killed you at the Iron Hills," Nyrath snarled, his handsome features twisted with hatred.
"I was just thinking the same thing," Fili replied coolly. He tried to circle around Nyrath to get to Sigrid and the knife, but each time he moved Nyrath lunged at him, and he kept having to leap backwards to avoid the blade. He risked a glance at the others. Taft was still circling casually, his cruel grin indicating he was very much enjoying what looked likely to be Fili's impending demise, while the look on Aurvang's face spoke the opposite: that the murder in cold blood of an unarmed dwarf was nothing like what he'd bargained for. Fili saw the advantage and pressed it.
"You can still turn this around, Aurvang," he called over his shoulder, his eyes back on Nyrath. "You broke them out of prison, didn't you? But you needn't be an accomplice to murder. Help me, and I'll see that things go easier for you."
"Shut up!" Nyrath snapped. He lunged again with the blade, and Fili dodged again out of reach.
"What did he promise you, Aurvang?" Fili continued. "Whatever it was, it's not likely you'll get it now, is it? Cut your losses. Throw me your sword."
"Kill him and shut him up, you fool," Taft called to Nyrath. The thief indicated towards Aurvang with his head. "Before this one takes a mind to listen to him."
Aurvang looked from Nyrath to Fili, then narrowed his eyes at Taft, and his jaw tightened. He had indeed decided to cut his losses. He gathered his reins, turned his horse south towards the road, and kicked it into a gallop.
"Ha! Too late," Taft cried, his voice mocking as he watched Aurvang ride off. "Another coward on the run. I guess it's up to me to finish this, then?"
Anger combined with the hatred on Nyrath's face. "No! Don't you touch him. I want to kill him myself. I want to watch him die knowing it was me that killed him."
Taft gave another mocking, snorting laugh. "Fool. I'm not so stupid as to mess with him," he said. "No. If you want to stop him, it's the girl you need to grab." He turned his horse towards Sigrid.
"No!" Fili cried. "Sigrid!"
"Don't touch her!" shouted Nyrath. He snarled again and raised his sword for an overhead strike at Fili, his face contorted with fury.
Sigrid stood up from where she had been searching the long grass, and raised her hand. "Fili! Catch!" she shouted, and the knife came spinning towards him, end over end, a perfect, textbook throw. He caught it, sank to one knee, and with both hands on the handle used the knife to deflect Nyrath's strike, and sent him tumbling into the dirt. Fili leapt to his feet and turned to run to Sigrid.
He stopped short. Taft had her.
The scrawny thief had dismounted, and he was standing with a fistful of Sigrid's hair, pulling her head back cruelly, his blade at her exposed throat.
"One move, dwarf," Taft said quietly, giving Sigrid a shake and inching the blade closer to her skin. "Just one. Give me a reason, and I'll do it."
"Let her go, Taft," Fili said, raising his knife and aiming it at the thief's head. "You know I can put this between your eyes from here."
"Yes, but then Nyrath will kill you, won't he?" he said, almost laughing in his delight at Fili's predicament. "You've only got one knife. Defend your lass, or defend yourself. What's it to be, I wonder?"
Fili glanced over his shoulder, his arm still poised towards Taft, as Nyrath strolled casually up to him, brushing dust off his clothing and inspecting the sword in his hand, turning it this way and that.
"Now, Nyrath," the thief said. "Do it, then we'll have some fun with the lassie." He leered unpleasantly at Sigrid. Fili fought to control his own sudden burst of rage, and braced himself to fight it out.
Then from the south, the sound of hoofbeats broke into his awareness, becoming gradually louder as they approached. Had Aurvang or Hawk, or both, circled back to rejoin the standoff, and tip the scale in Nyrath's favour?
He pushed it out of his mind. He needed to focus - he'd deal with them later. Nyrath, though, unexpectedly, had kept walking calmly past Fili towards Taft and Sigrid. The dwarf looked up and made eye contact with Taft as he stopped in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I told you not to touch her," he said, and he plunged his sword into Taft's stomach.
Sigrid's scream was lost as the noise of the hoofbeats of a dozen ponies suddenly thundered around them. The thief let go of Sigrid and she ran to Fili's arms, and he could feel her shaking as he held her, shielding her away from Nyrath as well as from the new intruders. Taft's eyes looked at Nyrath in surprise, then down at the sword in his stomach, and then they glazed over, he went limp, and Nyrath let his body slide off the blade to collapse in a heap on the ground.
Fili looked around. It was a dozen armoured guards of the Iron Hills that surrounded them, and Nyrath threw his bloody sword onto Taft's body and put his hands in the air. It was over.
"Mother of Durin, Fili, can't I leave you alone for a second?" a cheery voice quipped, and one of the guards dismounted to make his way towards them, as two others bound Nyrath's hands behind his back.
"Nib," Fili said with a sigh of relief, not letting go of Sigrid. "Never have I been gladder to see you, my friend."
"Nor I you," Nib replied. "We've hunted these four all the way from the Hills, zig-zagging across the countryside. Couldn't understand why they didn't just ride straight for the west." He glanced at Sigrid. "Then we figured it out, and came looking for you. Are you all right?"
Sigrid rubbed her neck. "I'm not hurt. Fili had everything under control."
Fili said nothing, but gave Sigrid a squeeze, less convinced than she was of his command of the situation, but touched as always by the faith she had in him.
"The other two? The ones that rode off?" she continued. "Did you catch them?"
"They ran straight into us, back down there," Nib said, indicating towards the south with his head. "Too dumb to stay off the road. That's how we knew to head this way." He gave Fili a friendly slap on the back. "Everything under control, hey?" he said. "Well, we've got them now. Let's escort you on to the Pick and Shovel."
They started back towards their campsite, and then Fili made the mistake of glancing towards Nyrath as he stood bound and held by two of the guards. He was standing calmly, not struggling, his face a blank, expressionless mask, but his narrowed eyes never left Sigrid. Fili didn't realise he had made a move towards him until he felt Sigrid's hand on his chest.
"Fili, stop," she said quietly. "Self-defence is one thing; now would be something else entirely. And besides, Marni needs him alive, to trade for the prisoners, remember? Let's just walk away. He won't bother us again."
He looked at her, wanting to argue, and above all wanting to make damn sure Nyrath wouldn't bother her again, ever. Then he sighed, took her hand and raised it to his lips, and held it against his chest. "You're more forgiving than I am, love. But you're right, as always. I'll do as you say."
Nib was keen to press on immediately for the inn, but it was still hours until morning, and Fili refused to budge from their campsite, insisting that they stay and let Sigrid sleep. Nib shrugged his agreement and ordered the troop to bed down for the night, with a rotating watch placed on the prisoners. Fili knew, as Nib did not, how much Sigrid needed to rest, and he wanted to be convinced that she really had suffered no lasting harm from her ordeal before moving on. He knew she was trying to ease his mind as she described to him how she'd landed on her feet as she'd slid down from the rearing horse, and he actually gave a small rueful smile as she took his hand and ran it down her neck to prove that Taft's blade hadn't touched her. Her head felt sore where the thief had taken hold of her hair, but other than that, she assured him, she was uninjured. She just wanted to go back to sleep. Fili put up a tent and moved their bedrolls inside it, away from prying eyes, and he could sense her relief as they finally crawled inside to seek the comfort of each other's arms.
"Please love, don't try to downplay it on my account," he whispered to her as he settled her head on his shoulder. "You were shaking when you ran to me. How are you, truly?"
"I'm not downplaying it," she murmured. "It was a shock. But then you were right there, Fili. I never doubted that you'd deal with them."
He was silent again, guilt at his inability to prevent the incident gnawing at him. It was the one thing he'd always assured her, that she was safe with him. And tonight she'd been in danger. He'd let her down.
"I know what you're thinking, my love, and you need to stop it," she said, snuggling into his side. "You couldn't have foreseen that something like this would happen. It's not your fault. But it did happen, and you saved me anyway. I'd back you against a hundred swordsmen, even if you were armed with nothing more than a soup ladle." She craned up to kiss him, and he closed his eyes as she pressed her soft, sweet lips to his, but before she could snuggle back down into his shoulder, he stopped her with a hand on her cheek, his gaze sombre.
"No. It was you, love. You made the difference tonight. Pulling on the reins like that, and that elbow in Nyrath's face, it gave me the chance to cut you free. And your throw, when you found the knife… if you hadn't done that, if it hadn't been as good as it was, I'm not sure how it would have all turned out."
She smiled at him, and kissed him again. "No, Fili, my love, it was you. You made the best of the opportunities that presented themselves. If they hadn't been there, you would have found others. You would have found a way. I don't doubt that for a second." He let her snuggle back into his side, and he was comforted again by her touch, her words, and the unshakeable faith she had in him.
"And now, hold me tight until I'm asleep," she continued. "And I'm sorry, but you'll just have to accept that you're amazing."
He held her, and felt her relaxing in his arms as sleep came to claim her. But before she dozed off, he heard her murmur, barely audible even in the silence of the night around them.
"I wasn't going to let him take me."