Disclaimer: All rights go to JRR Tolkien and Peter Jackson, respectively. Anything you don't recognize is mine.
Quick A/N: *shows up quietly in the middle of the night to post a chapter two months overdue*
It's so hard to express my gratitude for everyone right now; life has been so crazy lately, and even though I'm not as impressed with this chapter as I thought I would be, I'm still really happy I finally completed it and I'm really excited to share it with y'all!
Many thanks to everyone who reviewed while I was away: partyprincessofrohan, Prost, simone barton , Obi-wan's girl forever, Uncontrollable-book-nerd, Savarra, PK-chan12, KelseyBl, wickedgrl123, BethylOTPs, Miriel Tolkien, Lily Rae, Arveldis, Maud26, alexma, jaded-alchemist, Pint-sized She-Bear, The-Supernatural-Zelda-Force, KeepingThemAtBay, mh21, Oluhasuu, Wynter Phoenix, and Nox (Guest)! HUGE thank you to everyone who favorited/followed, as well!
And now on to the chapter! Enjoy!
PS: Minor warning for language, if some of y'all are iffy about that sort of thing
"I will storm the gods, and shake the universe." -Seneca, Medea
Chapter Fifty-Three: Bring the Eastern Horizon
There was no light.
This was Alison's only conscious thought as she was torn out of reality and pitched into an abyss of nothingness, darkness and black the only things she could be aware of.
It was a feeling of getting sucked into a vortex, and she dimly wondered if this was what it would be like to fall into a black hole in space, as all air was compressed from her lungs and her blood seemed to bubble and burn beneath her skin as she tumbled evermore into shadow.
But just as quickly as it had come, the sensation abruptly stopped, and light flooded her vision again before she fell out of thin air and crashed to the ground, hard, her knees and palms flaring with pain as her head and spine jarred from her previous injuries, and she involuntarily yelped as her face scraped the rocky surface.
Her stomach roiled and her head swam, but she clamped down on her tongue to keep from vomiting as she heard Jonathan come to a much smoother landing beside her. It took everything she had not to surge to her feet and sink one of her swords into his chest right then and there, rage mixing with her nausea and making her shake as she lay on the ground and struggled to breathe evenly.
"First time at shadow-travel, eh?" Jonathan said perkily, and Alison dug her fingers into the ground so hard she wouldn't be surprised if she had left deep furrows in the stone she was lying upon.
"I understand; it's a bit overwhelming when it's your first time," he went on, as if Alison had actually acknowledged him and wasn't instead imagining him getting mauled by Beorn as she attempted to rein in her fury and the now-present guilt. "You better start getting used to it, though, cousin; we'll be doing a lot of it – "
"Shut up," she snapped, hauling herself to her feet and clenching her fists by her sides to stop herself from doing something she would end up regretting, blinking away the dots blotting her vision furiously.
For once, he seemed to listen, remaining silent as she faced away from him and took in her surroundings, diverting her attention away from the mess of emotions she could feel raging inside of her before she stopped in surprise, recognizing where they were.
"Why are we in Lake-town?" she asked, startled. They were standing in the obliterated town square, still cluttered with rubble and debris, and her boots sank into the mushy bed of soot and ash, damp from the drizzling rain that still tapped upon her head and shoulders as she looked around in confusion, taking a few steps to regain feeling in her numb legs.
She glanced toward the Mountain, ignoring the ripping feeling in her chest at the thought of the others that would still be up there, taking in the heavy, swirling black clouds as lightning threaded through them, followed closely by rumbles of thunder, though the storm seemed to be dying down quickly.
"Well, unless you actually had an idea of where to start our search first, I figured we'd need a moment to set our course," the other Hero replied, and Alison grit her teeth at his vague sarcasm.
She turned around to face him, her wet hair sticking to her cheek and neck as she blinked through the misting rain, meeting his gaze head-on as he cocked a lazy brow at her.
"I'm not doing anything until you tell me what the hell this is for," she growled. "I'm the one with the Ring, so if you want my help, then I suggest you start talking."
Jonathan raised both brows now, looking mildly impressed as he shoved his hands into his pant pockets (armor with pockets? Female clothing designers, take notes, she thought distantly) and regarded her carefully, as if sizing her up, before shrugging nonchalantly.
"All right," he agreed easily, catching her off-guard. "What do you want to know?"
Alison opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She had been expecting him to deflect her questions as he had done back in Dale, but now that she didn't have to strangle some answers out of him… she didn't know where to start.
"Um…" She trailed off, uncertain. What did she need to know? She knew he had led the army to the Mountain under Sauron's orders, and she knew he now wanted the Ring she had – Ondolissë – because he wanted the others…
"The other Rings," she finally said. "You said that Sauron doesn't know what you're doing, what you're planning to do when you have them, so… what are you doing?"
"I already gave you a clue, cousin," he said, smirking, and Alison glared, though she racked her brain quickly, picking apart the conversation she had had with him in Dale.
"You are a pawn just as much as I am, Alison, which puts us on the same side of the board in the grander scheme of things…"
"You said I'm a pawn," she recalled, frowning. "But a pawn for what? I don't know what that could mean – "
Jonathan groaned theatrically, throwing his head back in frustration.
"It means exactly what it means, Alison," he sighed. He tilted his head back down, rolling his eyes when she still looked bewildered.
"Have you never felt like you have been toyed with along your journey?" He implored, suddenly serious. "As if the universe was laughing at you, stringing you along like a puppet, meeting every one of your victories with another handful of losses? Have you never tossed in your sleep at night, wondering what more could go wrong, what other obstacles could be thrown in your way, like slipping slowly into a freezing river with no rescue coming to your aid, no lifeline to help save yourself from drowning?"
Alison didn't immediately answer, feeling her fingertips going numb with the realization of what he was saying. She knew precisely what he was talking about, knew it so well she felt as if she were practically wearing his words on her sleeve.
Every day since she had been here, she had felt the exact way he had described; lost, wondering what else was coming, who else was going to get hurt, and feeling so helpless when something happened that she couldn't change, when she had nightmares of her friends dying and woke in a cold sweat, trying to convince herself that she could save them in the end, despite all of her failings in trying to change the story thus far. And it terrified her to know what Jonathan meant by that.
"You have felt it," he said for her, when she tried to speak, but couldn't past the lump in her throat. "Then you of all people should understand what my plan is, Alison. You know what I plan on doing; you just don't want to say it."
She hesitated, biting her lip, before eventually nodding as his black eyes bored into her, strangely bright in the gloom of the stormy night.
"I need those Lesser Rings to help us, Alison," he said lowly, taking a step forward as she stared at him, torn between wanting to back away and standing her ground, though she stayed put.
"We are trapped here by the Valar's bidding, because of that damned Oath Eleon took when he crossed the veil. He swore his allegiance to Middle-earth, to the Valar that his bloodline would never depart from this world, and they came to collect on that Oath. That's why we are here, Alison. Yes, we get to help save the world while we're at it, but the truth is, we are prisoners. The Valar let their most precious Hero slip through their fingers, and because of that mistake, we now get to pay for it, by being torn away from our normal lives and tossed to the wolves with nothing but a stick to help us survive. The mortal Heroes are nothing but a joke; all we are is insurance."
"You came here because of Sauron," Alison spat, stepping away from him and shaking her head. "You were never summoned by the Valar; you came here willingly with him – "
"Because I had no choice!" He shouted, and Alison blinked as his voice echoed back to them from the burnt, skeletal buildings surrounding them, and he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if trying to regain control of himself.
"There is always a choice," Alison said, watching him carefully in case he made any sudden move to lash out at her. "You just picked the wrong one."
"I told you about my past," he said, looking up at her, and Alison was shocked to see the layer of anguish in his eyes, though it made her uneasy at the same time, seeing such a vulnerable look from him.
"I had nothing in the mortal world. My family was dead, I was penniless, and no matter how much I tried to run, I couldn't escape my life. Every time I walked down a street I could smell the stench of death, I could see the half-rotting corpses lying outside of houses, waiting to be carted away to either be burned or thrown into a shallow grave. I was terrified that I would become one of those bodies, that I would die condemned to a life full of despair and sin, until Sauron found me. And you're right, Alison; there is always a choice, and at the time, I thought I had made the right one."
Alison stared, not quite knowing what to think. Wariness warred with pity and understanding as she watched Jonathan rake his hair away from his forehead in agitation, a muscle in his jaw working as he glanced away from her still form. He could be lying, of course; he had to be, because he was Jonathan, and he was the most manipulative bastard she had ever met. But something about his confession gave her pause; there was just something so…raw about it, and it made her feel as if she were tearing herself in half trying to understand him.
She licked her lips, shifting before saying, "And what about now?" When he looked back to her quizzically, she cleared her throat before elaborating. "If you knew then what you know now, would you have made the same choice?"
"Sauron promised me everything," he said, leaning forward as he spoke. "He promised that I would get everything in this world that I had been robbed of in the mortal one, and because of that, I would still accept.
"But," he said heavily, as Alison's heart sank at his response. "If I had known what he was planning to do, what he was going to make me do, I would've parted ways with him as soon as we got here. I would have turned away from all the power in Mordor, because two thousand years later, I have only a shred of what he promised me. I wanted peace and security; none of this was supposed to happen."
"I don't believe you," Alison said bluntly, raising her chin as a flicker of fury and something else flashed across his face. "After everything you've done to me and my friends, I don't trust you, and I never will. So spare me the tragic backstory and just tell me what your plan is so we can get on with it."
He stayed silent, and if Alison didn't know him better, she would've thought that he was blinking back tears for a second before his expression closed, and he looked back to her with his signature smirk and haughty expression.
"Very well," he said, sneering, all traces of emotion scratched from his features. "What we are to do is very simple; your part is to obtain the Rings, and from there, you can either help me, or stay the hell out of my way for good when the time comes."
"Help you with what?" she said slowly, not sure she wanted to know the answer when his grin turned wolfish.
"Those Rings, when combined, will give me power equal to that of Sauron," he said. "Without his master Ring, he is weak, very weak, and not yet full in his power once more. So, with the help of the Lesser Rings, I'm going to rip him a new one by banishing that son of a bitch into the Void and taking over his armies – and after that, I'm going to wage war on the Valar and destroy them so utterly that their precious veil will collapse between this world and the mortal world, and thus ending the Line of Heroes with you and me forever."
Alison stared, her mouth open, wondering if he was joking. When he said nothing, only stared at her with that mad glint in his eyes, did she finally begin cracking up, the laughter coming so suddenly it scraped her throat raw as she doubled over, shoulders shaking.
Jonathan's features contorted as she continued to cackle, and she wondered if this was it, if this was her breaking point, where everything just became so dark and twisted it was absurd, and she couldn't stop laughing, no matter how hard she tried.
"Why are you laughing?" He asked dangerously, as she gulped in air, still giggling like crazy.
"Because," she gasped. "All of you are so fucking insane."
"What?" He stared at her as if she had lost it, and in all honesty, she probably had.
"You, all of you!" She cried, flapping a hand at him as her laughter subsided, suddenly being replaced with a deep, slow anger. "Everyone in this world is freaking nuts! Dwarves, Elves, Wizards, Dark Lords – everyone is mad! A quest to slay a dragon and take back a homeland? Why not! A giant war that we all might die in, the enemy being led by my very own sadistic ancestor? Even better! And now this is the icing on the cake."
She jabbed a finger at him, a grin plastered to her face so wide it felt feral as Jonathan continued to stare. "How said sadistic ancestor is asking me to accompany him on a quest to find some rings, in which he is then going to use these magical pieces of jewelry to take down the Evil Baddie who wants to rule the world, and then, my personal favorite – he's going to launch another war on the most powerful deities over this world, because he didn't get what he wanted and needs to throw a tantrum because of it. Like, God, can this get any better?"
Alison shook her head, feeling as if she had transcended above all levels of sanity and anger, entering a realm where nothing could astound her anymore, where no emotions tugged at her, simply because she had nothing left to give.
"So, why the hell not? Let's just get this over with," Alison said, extracting the Ring from her pocket and ignoring the way Jonathan's face was shifting between every shade of red before settling on ashen, his lips so tight they were going white as he continued to stare at her.
"You have no idea of the things you are speaking so carelessly of – " He started, before Alison cut him off with a look so withering she could've shriveled a plant with the intensity of it.
"Get over yourself," she snapped. "I'm just here to do a job and send you on your way with your revenge plan. Nothing more."
He stared at her incredulously as she approached, holding Ondolissë in her palm as she scowled at him.
"You're not even going to argue?" he asked, surprised. "No threatening to kill me, despite me wanting to topple your precious Valar?"
"By all means, go ahead," she said, shrugging indifferently. "I'm only agreeing with this because I know you'll never make it."
"And what does that imply?" He asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"You aren't going to topple anyone," she said, her voice becoming so flat and cold it was like a knife punctuating the air. "Because you're going to be crushed like a bug before you even get the chance to. Sauron, sure; go for it. But going up against the Valar?" She chuckled humorlessly. "You're going against the powers of this earth themselves, and God have mercy on your soul – or whatever's left of it, after you get done being tortured for all of eternity by trying to disrupt the order of the world itself. When they're done with you, you won't even be a Hero; you'll just be their bitch."
She waited for the inevitable backlash her words were going to bring, whether it be him hurting her or threatening to kill everyone she loved again, but her brows rose in shock when Jonathan only grinned, his scar rippling menacingly.
"Excellent performance, little cousin," he commended, and she scowled at his patronizing tone. "But you'll change your mind about my plan soon enough; this I can guarantee."
"I'd like to see you try," she replied sweetly, which only made him grin wider.
"Then let's get this party started, shall we?" He gestured to the Ring sitting in her palm, his eyes glowing with anticipation. "You know how to work that thing?"
"I have an idea," she said, suddenly uncertain again, only vaguely remembering the last time she had touched it without her gloves on, when Bilbo had given it to her upon her initial arrival to Erebor. She wasn't keen to experience that weirdness all over again, but the sooner she got this out of the way…
She took a deep breath, before pulling off the glove of her left hand where the Ring wasn't sitting, her skin erupting into goosebumps from the sudden chill and freezing rain, acutely aware of Jonathan's gaze on her the entire time.
She stared at the Ring, its silver surface seeming to deflect the drizzling rain, and even through her glove, she felt its soft, humming power and faint heat, before Jonathan cleared his throat impatiently and she jerked, looking up to see him staring at her questioningly.
"Waiting for an invitation?" he asked slyly, and she scowled, snapping out of her daze before turning to the Ring once more.
Well, here goes nothing, she thought, before dumping the Ring into her ungloved hand, tensing as – nothing happened, indeed.
What the hell?
She looked down at the Ring again, frowning as it only gleamed up at her innocently, and she could sense Jonathan's impatience from next to her, which only rubbed more at her irritation.
"Call it my otherworldly intuition, but something tells me that there should be more happening right now," he observed dryly, and Alison had to refrain herself from chucking the stupid thing at his face.
"I don't understand," she said, scowling at the Ring. "The last time I touched it, it showed me things in my mind, like patterns…"
"Perhaps it's because that was only the bond?" he suggested. "Maybe to access the full extent of the Ring's power, you actually have to put it on?"
"No way am I doing that!" she protested. "I don't know what this thing could do to me!"
"I'm glad you're exercising a bit of caution in this matter, cousin," he said, leaning back on his heels and looking frustrated. "But if you'd rather spend a century just standing here and looking at the damned thing, then be my guest. Or we could actually get a start on this quest, and move on to our own separate paths to take. Your choice."
Despite his domineering attitude, Alison had to admit he had a point, but she grit her teeth to keep from showing any signs of it, instead pinching the Ring between her index finger and thumb and holding it up.
"If I die, I blame you, by the way," she said.
All she got in response was an eye roll, and with that, she shoved the Ring on to her ungloved index finger, immediately being sucked back to the swirling star patterns and weightless sensation she had felt when she had first put it on, the stone quaking beneath her feet and seeming to prop her up as she struggled to concentrate.
All right, Ring, she thought. Work your magic here. Show me where the other Rings are.
As if obeying her command, the star patterns warped and tumbled at alarming speeds, swirling into a maelstrom of sensations: hot, baking air; the smell of dry earth and sweat and spices; and a vision of a land soaked in blood –
Alison tore off the Ring, suddenly overwhelmed, and she was surprised to find herself sweating as Jonathan looked down at her intensely, his eyes searching hers.
"Well?" he demanded. "What did you see? Where are the others?"
"T-there was only one," she said, after catching her breath. "It only showed me one's location. But I don't know – "
"Tell me everything you saw," he said, as she clutched the Ring, recalling what she had seen.
"It felt like a desert," she said. "The air was dry and hot, and the land – it was stained with blood."
The last part came out as a whisper, but when she looked up, Jonathan didn't appear to be taken aback or even remotely concerned, instead only grinning savagely.
"The Eastlands, then," he said excitedly. "How wonderful. I've been looking forward to going there for quite some time now."
"So you know where this Ring in the Eastlands is?" she asked, and he shrugged.
"I have an idea now," he affirmed, nodding.
Alison raised a brow. "Care to share?"
"Have you ever heard of the Sand Tombs?" He asked, and Alison shook her head slowly, frowning. "Good; it's best if you don't know much about them."
"What? Why?" Alison said, slightly alarmed now as Jonathan began clearing away soot and snow with his boot, leaving a blank circle for them to stand in as Alison spluttered indignantly when he didn't answer.
"Here, take this," he said instead, tossing her a small leather drawstring pouch that she caught grudgingly. "Put the Ring in there while we travel. I'd rather it not get lost."
"You seriously think I'd just lose a Magic Ring?" Alison grumbled, though she stowed the Ring into the pouch nonetheless and put the string around her neck, letting it hang against her chest where Kíli's necklace had recently sat and trying to ignore the flare of pain and guilt that shot through her at the thought.
"Better safe than sorry," he replied, before striding over and offering her his arm with a smirk and a wink. "Ready to conquer the world, cousin? Only kidding!" He waved her off when she bared her teeth at him in a growl, only offering his arm out further when she sniffed disdainfully but reluctantly grabbed hold of it, her skin crawling from the contact.
"Now," he said. "Bring us that eastern horizon."
And then they were gone in a wink of dark and cold.
One hour.
Kíli sat in the Elvenking's tent, listening to the drone of voices around him and the rain pattering on the material of the roof above, his eyes fastened on the flickering of a candle set up a few feet before him, watching the flame twist and dance as the white wax slowly melted and pooled on the gold dish below it.
He didn't know what it was the others were talking about, though it sounded frantic, panicked, loud. Several voices had tried speaking to him since he had been ushered into the tent by his brother, but they were garbled and indistinct, coming through water, it seemed, and they had stopped trying quickly when he didn't bother to acknowledge them.
The broken chain hung limply in his right hand, glimmering like a shattered star as his clasp dangled off the end of it, catching the candle's light and reflecting its flame, making it glow and shimmer, shadows and light coalescing together like some kind of mysterious, mirthful thing, and he wondered why seeing this hurt so terribly much, when he realized it was because it reminded him of Alison's eyes in the firelight, and something within him cracked all over again.
Two hours.
The tent had cleared, leaving him alone with the broken necklace and the candle, and Kíli found it slightly amusing that even Thranduil had stepped out, though it was his tent in the first place, yet it wasn't humorous for long.
Three hours.
The nighttime shadows were slowly lightening, growing paler, and Kíli figured it was almost dawn as the candle finally drew down to a nub of wax. The only reason he bothered to keep track of time in this moment was because he had been counting the hours since Alison's – what? Disappearance? Kidnapping?
How pathetic, he thought bitterly. The woman you love disappears into shadow with her murderous ancestor, and you don't even know what to call it. Should be expected, though; you couldn't even stop her from being taken in the first place.
And there it was.
Kíli had been wondering when the self-blame was going to make its presence known, and it seemed that now was the time.
He replayed the memory in his head, deconstructed it in slow motion like he had been doing for the last three hours, watching it happen all over again: searching among the slain and the living, his sword still clutched in his hand as he struggled for a glimpse of brown hair or green eyes; feeling relief when there was no sign of her amongst the dead, but confusion when she wasn't there, warring with guilt over seeing her again after she had left Erebor; his relief immediately turning into terror when he turned to see Jonathan dragging her toward them, a hand fisted in her hair as she seemed to be begging him for something.
He hadn't even listened to what Jonathan had been saying, only focusing on Alison and how much pain she was in when she met his gaze. He should've seen it coming then; he knew her, he had spent months studying her, working out how she ticked, and he should've known what she was about to do.
"I'm so sorry."
He clenched his fist so hard the chain bit into his skin, but he barely felt it, trembling from the effort of trying to sit still and not break something, and it wasn't until he let in a ragged breath that he realized he was crying, silent tears marking his face as he saw her disappear in a haze of smoke once more, his sword hitting nothing but darkness and clattering to the ground as he dropped to his knees, not believing that she had just gone –
I'm sorry I couldn't stop him. I'm sorry for abandoning you. I'm sorry for leaving you alone and letting you go with him. I'm sorry for not following you. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry…
"Kee?"
Kíli looked up automatically, the sudden gust of wind that came in through the open tent flap extinguishing the candle completely and touching his face gently, bringing with it the scent of clean air and water as he saw Fíli standing in the opening, looking at him with concern as he stepped inside.
"Don't mind me," Kíli croaked. "Just falling apart over here."
"That was a terrible joke, and you know it," Fíli said half-heartedly, and Kíli let out a breathy chuckle, because Mahal, laughing felt better than crying in that moment.
Fíli moved over to sit beside him on the small divan Kíli was currently occupying, sitting close, but not too close as Kíli surreptitiously wiped his eyes on his sleeve and coughed, trying to get rid of the scratchiness in his throat as his brother waited patiently, prudently looking around the tent as Kíli composed himself.
"I shouldn't be crying, I know," he said a few minutes later, when the silence was beginning to stretch and making him uncomfortable, rubbing at his patience. "There are things to be doing; readying for the battle, finding out where Jonathan is taking Alison… I know I need to be there to help with those things, but I-I just…needed a moment."
"Kíli, no one is pressuring you to help at this very instant," Fíli reminded him gently, and even though he knew his brother was right, Kíli still grit his teeth and stared down at the carpeted floor. "We knew you needed time to sort this all out. No one's holding it against you, I promise."
His words hurt a lot more than they should have, and Kíli tensed, tears springing to his eyes again as he worked out why this had such a profound effect on him.
"I am so sick of promises," he choked out, feeling Fíli's surprised gaze upon his face as he spoke to the floor, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he hunched over. "All I've done on this quest is make promises to people I can't keep, and I don't need any made on my behalf, not after I've broken one so paramount already."
"Kee, if you're talking about Mother, you have not broken that—" Fíli started, but Kíli cut him off with a bitter laugh.
"No, no, I know I haven't broken that one yet," he said. "But if this battle turns out like Alison's story, I can just add that to my ever-growing list."
He took a deep breath, his knee jumping in agitation as it did whenever he became restless, energy flowing through him as his emotions jumped all over the place, spiking and dipping like a guttering heartbeat as Fíli watched him carefully.
"After we left Rivendell, I made a promise to Alison," he blurted out, speaking to his knees as the words rushed out of him. "I promised her that-that no matter what happened on this quest, I would see her home to her family, that I would keep her happy by helping her return to them after all of this was said and done. And now – and now—"
"Kíli—" Fíli tried to reach for his shoulder, but Kíli jerked to his feet, struggling to breathe as he began to pace.
"I broke that promise to her, Fíli!" Kíli nearly shouted, needing his brother to understand why he felt as wretched as he did. "I promised to return her home safely, and now Jonathan has her, because I couldn't protect her! She's trying so hard to save us, and I can't even save her!"
He was crying again, and he cursed violently, swiping at his eyes. He was a Son of Durin, for Mahal's sake. His blood flowed with that of kings, and now he couldn't stop weeping like some delicate little flower.
"Kíli, I'm going to need you to shut up," Fíli said, a note of steel to his voice, and Kíli looked up, shocked at his brother's change in tone.
Fíli was staring at him, his grey-blue eyes chilled like frosted iron, and Kíli recognized his brother's expression acutely, for it was the same one he used before going into battle.
"Kíli, if you're not going to listen to yourself, listen to me," he said fiercely, while Kíli only stared. "You have not failed Alison, and you won't. You care for her, and I know you; you will fight to the death for those you care for, and you will never give up on them, just as you will not give up on Alison. So right now, you need to get up, and come with me, because we need to figure out where she is and what Jonathan is planning to do with her, and you need to fight to keep that promise to her, you hear? Don't give up now." Fíli met his eyes boldly, lowering his voice as Kíli continued to stare and saying softly, "Do you think she would give up on you?"
Kíli blinked, his brother's words hitting him like a fist, and he shook his head slowly, letting it sink in what he had to do.
"I knew there was always a reason why Thorin and Mother made you the diplomat and told me to shut up and stand at your shoulder quietly," he said, smirking, and Fíli barked out a laugh, his eyes softening as he stood up from the divan and reached for Kíli again.
This time, Kíli let himself be pulled into the embrace, leaning in to rest his forehead against Fíli's as his brother clapped him on the shoulders.
"You have never broken a promise, Kíli," he said quietly. "You are an honorable Dwarf, and I know you will do whatever it takes to rescue our Hero."
"Assuming our Hero doesn't take him out first and there's actually anything left to bury once she's done with him," he said wryly, and Fíli snorted.
"Fair point," he agreed, before drawing away and smiling gently at Kíli, though he started frowning quite suddenly the longer he looked at him. "Say, when did you get taller than me?"
Kíli roared with laughter at the baffled expression on his brother's face, his mirth heightened even further when Fíli raised a hand to measure them both, frowning deeper when Kíli still came away taller, though the atmosphere in the tent had lightened considerably.
"Maybe you're just shrinking," Kíli suggested amusedly. "Or perhaps you're actually some distant relation of Bilbo's or something."
"Good grief, let's hope not," he said, blanching, and Kíli laughed again, feeling lighter than he had in days. "I've heard some stories about his family, and quite frankly, I still wonder how he survived past infancy raised around a bunch of hobbits as the ones he described."
"Well, then, time to brush up on hobbit etiquette, eh, brother?" He said, before wrapping an arm around Fíli's shoulders and drawing him out of the tent with a good-natured scowl shot in his direction. "Now, c'mon; we have a Hero to find."
Alison's feet slammed into the ground, prickles of pain shooting up her shins as Jonathan landed next to her, though her knees immediately buckled and she fell to the ground as the world righted itself once more, brightness shining directly into her eyes as she squinted.
She hauled herself to her feet, still squinting, and brushed off her clothes, where coarse, golden sand had accumulated after her tumble to the ground. She looked over to see Jonathan sway slightly on his feet, and when he caught her staring, he only straightened and shrugged, saying curtly, "You know, shadow-travel isn't as easy as it looks."
"I never said it was," she replied, which only caused him to sniff and turn away, taking stock of their surroundings.
Alison copied him, opening her eyes further as they adjusted and seeing a vast desert landscape before them, nothing but a sea of baked sand and a wide horizon, painted red from the sunrise before them, which in turn made the sand appear red, like blood, and Alison suddenly understood her vision.
"So these are the Eastlands?" She said, recalling very faintly the map Bilbo had given her at the beginning of the journey, though she couldn't remember what had been in the East besides the Lonely Mountain, having lost it in the goblin-tunnels ages ago. "I didn't expect them to be so…empty."
There wasn't any sign of civilization around them for miles, despite the flat, open landscape, and she turned to look at Jonathan, who was studying the area with pursed lips.
"So did you just decide to drop us off in the middle of nowhere, or do you have a plan of where we're going?" she asked. "I notice you didn't bring any supplies for us, as well, so either you have a plan, or you just really, really suck at planning ahead."
"Do you ever shut up?" He said exasperatedly, and Alison cocked a brow. "Or are you determined to annoy me to death?"
"That's rich, coming from you," she retorted. "Just answer my question."
"I was planning on coming out near the city of Jarkhun, considering it's the only settlement near the Sand Tombs for leagues," he said, frowning slightly. "But apparently I was a little off the mark. As for supplies, I was thinking we could just get some from the city, as I was a little busy attacking Dale to think much of what to bring with us."
"Well, that's just great," Alison snapped. "Really terrific, that is."
"I don't recall you being this insufferable when we first met," he said to her, as he continued to study the landscape, and she rolled her eyes.
"Probably because I didn't know you for the murderous bastard you turned out to be," she replied sarcastically, and he waved a vague finger at her as if to say That's the ticket!, which only made her snort derisively.
When he didn't respond further, Alison sighed and crouched down, picking up a handful of sand and letting it trickle through her fingers, smiling faintly as she remembered the one trip she had taken to the beach with her parents when she was eight.
She had told the Company about that trip on one of her first nights here, and she suddenly had an image of herself sitting next to Ori late one night, describing the way the sand had felt in minute detail to the scholarly dwarf as he scribbled furiously in his journal, both of them whispering so as not to wake the others, before she locked down that memory quickly and blinked back tears, stopping herself from wondering if she'd ever have another moment with him like that again before tossing the rest of the sand to the ground and standing up.
She looked to Jonathan first, seeing him still standing there gazing around, before turning back to the horizon, her eyes scanning the distance until a bright wink caught her vision and she turned in the direction of the light, waiting for a few seconds before it winked again, bright and quick, somewhere to the northeast.
"Hey," she called to Jonathan. "What's that, over there?"
He came up beside her and followed where her finger was pointing, inhaling excitedly when the light blinked again.
"That, dearest cousin, is a sun spire," he answered, going on when she looked at him quizzically. "Every settlement in the Eastlands is supposed to have them; they're some kind of reflective metal that refract light, either sunlight, moonlight, or starlight, set up at high vantage points to tell a traveler what direction they're heading in as they cross the desert. A unique idea, if I do say so myself; quite fascinating."
"That's pretty cool," she admitted. "So I'm assuming that that city you mentioned, Jarkhun, is over there?"
"And you are correct," he said, before bowing and extending an arm. "After you, milady."
Ignoring him, she started forward, following the light of the sun spire, which was about three miles away, if she had to guess. It'd probably be early afternoon by the time they reached the city, and though Alison was nervous about the kind of welcome they'd receive, she was more concerned over the fact that they were about to trek across a desert with no water and no sign of an oasis, and she didn't know how hot it was going to get, especially with all of the armor and winter attire they were wearing. Their only chance was to move fast, before the full brunt of the sun could hit them, so she set a rigorous pace as they headed toward the city, all silent save for their footsteps through the sand and their breathing.
An hour passed with no conversation, the sun climbing steadily higher up the horizon, and the cool desert night giving way to warmer weather, which gave Alison some relief as she stripped off her coat and gloves, letting the air warm her skin after months of snow and frost.
"Enjoying yourself?" Jonathan asked from behind her, and she dropped the hand she was swiveling experimentally before sparing him a quick glance over her shoulder.
"Where I live in the mortal world, it's usually always warm," she said nonchalantly, shrugging indifferently. "It's just nice to be in the sun for once instead of the snow."
He only hummed in response, but after a few more minutes of silence, Alison felt herself compelled to ask him something she had been wondering since Lake-town, which had only been reinforced further when he had talked about the sun spires earlier.
"How do you know so much about the Eastlands?" She said before she could stop herself, and she could sense Jonathan's surprise at her random question from behind her.
He didn't answer, and she felt the back of her neck heating from how awkward things suddenly became, though she was taken aback when he eventually spoke.
"When I came here from the mortal world, I decided to learn everything I could about this world," he said neutrally. "I studied maps and lore and languages, determined to know everything, but there was something about the East I was always drawn to. Perhaps it's because those of the West don't particularly have any dealings with the East that I wanted to know more about what lay beyond Mordor and Rhovanion, so…I studied it."
Alison nodded slowly, understanding what it was like wanting to know more about the world they had been thrust into, for she had done the same thing when she came here, though not to the extent such as him.
"Well, uh…" she said. "What are the Eastlands supposed to be like?"
"Where we are right now is considered the country of Rhûn," he started, coughing slightly as she continued to walk ahead, intrigued, but not letting him see her interest. "We are very far East, practically off the edges of a typical Westron map, past the Sea of Rhûn and north of Harad."
Alison nodded, remembering seeing something about Rhûn on Bilbo's map, though she said nothing as Jonathan went on.
"The people who live here are called Easterlings in our tongue, though they have many different tribal and native names for themselves, such as people of Harad being known as Haradrim, though that mainly applies to their warriors," he went on. "Easterlings are an elusive people; they are not as bold as Haradrim, but I've read accounts of them being far rougher and violent, especially towards those who hail from the West."
"That's comforting to know," Alison muttered, though if he heard her, he didn't comment, continuing on with his account.
"As far as I know, there is no one leader to unite them, so I guess their system of governance is primitive, at best. I know for a fact that Jarkhun is ruled over by a tribal lord, Racor Rakshara, of the Shastahira clan; and it is him we must go through if we want access to the Sand Tombs."
Alison paused, looking over her shoulder in confusion at this.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "Why do we need this Racor guy's permission to go to the Sand Tombs?"
"The Sand Tombs aren't just a random graveyard," he replied. "They are sealed by magic; the Shastahira clan is said to have been in control of the Tombs since their construction, and only the clan leader can give permission to enter the Tombs of their ancestors and those warriors they renowned as legends. It is sacred to them and their culture, so if you'd rather be cursed to die in some horrible way, I'll take my chances with the leader first, thank you very much."
"So you think that one of the Lesser Rings is in a tomb?" she asked. "What would it be doing in there?"
"There was a rumor, a long time ago, that the Third Hero may have been put to rest in the East," he said. "His name was Ivan Ashburne, and if there's anywhere in the East where a Hero of Old would be buried, I'm betting my money it's in the Tombs."
"That…actually makes a lot of sense," Alison said. "Well, let's hope this leader guy likes you, so we can get that Ring and get out of here."
"I was about to say the same thing, cousin," he replied mischievously, and Alison looked at him in confusion. "After all, you'll be the one doing the talking."
Before she could reply, Jonathan gestured behind her, and Alison turned to see the city of Jarkhun before them, and even from this distance, she could tell that it was a surprisingly wealthy city.
It was small and compact, but it was protected by a towering wall posted with watchtowers and sun spires that glittered in the bright sun, and the interior was crowded with nice villas and a large citadel-esque house in the middle, raised on a large plateau that was lifted above most of the walled city.
Alison swallowed, not sure if she was ready for this as Jonathan led the way forward, toward the front gate of the city, and she fell into step behind him, her mouth dry, though not just from lack of water.
Mahal give me strength, she prayed as they approached. And please don't let me screw this up.
Author's Note
Again, not my favorite chapter, but it sets things up for later on, nonetheless.
So, Alison and J-Ash are in the Eastlands (as if nothing could go wrong with that), and apparently when they're together everything just becomes a sass-off. Nice.
Next chapter, the group at the Mountain decides what they're going to do in the wake of Alison's disappearance, while Alison and Jonathan enter the city of Racor Rakshara and get more than they bargained for when they seek permission to enter the mysterious Sand Tombs...
Anyway, thanks for reading, and don't forget to review: anything you liked, disliked, are looking forward to? Let me know!
Thanks again, lovelies! Until next chapter...
