It has become sort of a tradition for me to write a spooky Thorin story for Halloween. This is my second time writing about a younger Thorin, in his wandering blacksmith days.
I wanted to write something kind of spooky and also funny…it took a lot longer than I thought to get it right. Better late than never…it's still Samhain where I am.
Characters: Young Thorin Oakenshield, original female Dwarf character, and a few spooky extras
Warnings: None, unless you think meeting a group of witches on a dark and stormy night is too scary…
It had been raining fiercely all day, the kind of rain that soaked into your bones. Thorin Oakenshield trudged along the forest road, wet beyond caring. It was full dark now, he had given up the idea of finding a dry place to camp and decided to just walk through it. The trees pressed in on either side, twisting trunks and drooping leaves, dark and silent except for the dripping rain. The road would eventually take him to Dol Amroth, where he had a job waiting. The thought made him smile; the prince's envoy had offered him almost double what he had been making in Osgiliath.
He paused to adjust the straps on his pack and suddenly noticed a light shining between the trees. A welcoming, yellow light, off the road in the forest. He thought it must be an illusion, until he came upon a wide path leading away from the road. Thorin hesitated, he was weary of the rain and wanted to stop, but was not sure if strangers were welcome in this country. Since leaving the Ered Luin he had learned to be cautious, the ways of Men were not the ways of his people. But any chance to get out of the rain was too tempting to pass up, he took the side path and came to a neatly kept house in a wide clearing. He was surprised to see the sigil of the Broadbeams by the door, even more shocked when it was opened by a young Dwarf woman.
"Thank Mahal!" She exclaimed. "You are here about my baby!"
"I'm afraid you have mistaken me for someone else," Thorin replied. "I am merely a weary traveler looking to get out of the rain."
The woman seemed disappointed, but stepped back. "Of course, please come in! I remember the old ways, and it is welcome to see another of our people here in the south."
"Thank you, my lady," Thorin said, stepping in. It was such a relief to be out of the rain, the cozy room felt like a breath of home. A fire burning brightly in the hearth, fine furniture, soft rugs on the floor.
"Please take a seat by the fire," the woman said. "Can I offer you something to eat or drink?"
"Truth be told, I could use a little of both," Thorin replied, hanging his wet coat on a hook by the door. "But I do not wish to impose. Something hot to drink would be very welcome."
The woman laughed. "Such manners! You're not from around here." She turned and disappeared into the kitchen. Thorin pulled a soft chair nearer to the hearth, feeling like he would not be properly dry for days. He noticed a finely made cradle, leaned over to see a pretty baby girl lying in a nest of soft blankets. The child smiled up at him, he smiled back and rocked the cradle. The baby chuckled in delight.
The woman returned with a plate of sandwiches and a steaming mug of tea. Thorin took them both gratefully, trying not to be too obvious in admiring her. She was quite a pretty thing, blonde hair in ringlets around her face and elaborately braided, cornflower-blue eyes, a golden short-trimmed beard. She wore a simple dress, but it didn't hide the curves of her figure.
"I am Natalya," she said. "I'm sure you saw the sigil. My people are from the Blue Mountains."
Thorin nodded, dreading this next part. "I am called Thorin."
Natalya's eyebrows shot up. "That is a famous name."
"Yes. A notoriety I am trying to avoid at the moment," Thorin looked into the fire, hoping she wouldn't press the issue. "I had rather a falling out with my father."
"Then we have that in common, your highness!" Natalya laughed. "I ran away to marry the man I loved. Fell in love with a Human. You can imagine the scandal!"
Thorin nodded, chuckling with her. "Yes, I can. But, if you please, I am trying to live a simple life now."
She fingered her necklace nervously. "It wouldn't be right to not use your proper title," she looked around the room. "I worry that my little house is not grand enough for someone of such noble birth."
Thorin laughed. "I have been walking in this dreadful rain for hours! Believe me, seeing the light from your windows was as welcoming as any great hall of stone." He shook his head sadly. "And those are gone now."
"I'm sorry," Natalya said, she wanted to reach out and comfort him, but knew it was not proper to touch a royal. "I did not mean to bring up unhappy memories. You are welcome at my hearth, please stay as long as you like." She smiled at him. "There are so few of us in this part of the country, I would love to hear some news."
Like most Dwarves, Thorin liked to talk about his people and their works, all the intrigue and goings-on between the families. Natalya hung on his every word, gasping at the scandals and laughing with him at the misunderstandings. They spent a pleasant hour, Thorin was finally feeling dry. After he had finished his tea, Natalya joined him in a couple pints of fine ale she brought up from her cellar.
"Where is your husband?" Thorin asked at last.
"Working in Dol Amroth," she replied. "He is a carver and furniture maker. Does very well at it, if I may say. He got a large commission, and it is easier for him to just stay on and finish the work."
"Are you not lonely here, without him?"
"Yes," she said. "But there are many things to occupy my time. And he will be home at the end of the month."
"And you have your baby," Thorin nodded towards the cradle. "Is this the child you spoke of?"
Natalya went very still. "That is not my baby."
"No?"
"I gave birth to a child, I nursed her through the first months of her life. She was the greatest joy in my life. But that is not my baby. Something else has taken her place."
Thorin looked from Natalya to the baby. "She looks quite normal. Are you sure?"
"You sound like my husband," she scoffed. "I know my own child! That thing is not her!"
Thorin looked at the child, blinking up at him innocently. Dimly he recalled stories from his childhood, the old women told tales about creatures called fey that would take a Dwarf child and substitute one of their own. There was a way you could tell for sure, he groped for the memories. Half-remembered tales his governess used to frighten her charges, late at night when he and his brother refused to go to sleep.
"When I knocked on the door, you seemed to be expecting someone else," he said.
"I have been praying to Mahal, asking for help," Natalya said. "Just two days ago I went to a seer in the forest. She said a man would come who would bring my baby back." She smiled at him. "When you knocked…," she shrugged.
Thorin frowned. "I'm trying to remember the old tales my nan used to tell…there was a way you could tell if a child was…something else."
Natalya shook her head. "I have not heard this. But there must be a way."
The memory came to him suddenly, Thorin reached into his pack and took out his tongs. "She is a charming baby," he said. "Maybe she would like some iron to play with." Quickly, he set them down on the child, who immediately began to utter blood-curdling shrieks.
"It burns! It burns! Take it off!" The beautiful child had suddenly become an old, wizened creature, grey skin, long tail, wilted wings springing from its back. "Not iron! Take it off!"
"When you tell me what you have done with this lady's child," Thorin said sternly, quite astonished at the transformation. "Where is she?"
"Safe! Safe with my people! It burns!"
"Nasty creature!" Natayla reached in and grabbed the fey by the neck. "Give me back my baby!"
"I will remove the iron, only if you promise to return this woman's child," Thorin said.
"I promise! I promise!"
Natalya released the thing as Thorin picked up the tongs. He held them over the creature's face. "I will burn you again if you fail to keep your end of the bargain."
The fey sighed in resignation. "Go to the old oak at the crossroads, before midnight. My people will be there." Before either of them could react, the creature disappeared up the chimney.
Thorin and Natalya looked at each other. "Do you know what it was talking about?" Thorin asked.
Natalya nodded. "There is a fork in the forest road, just a half mile away. There is a grove of old trees there, my husband always calls them the Three Witches." She got up and reached for her coat. "It seems you are the one I was waiting for after all."
Thorin shrugged, wondering what in Mahal's name was going on, and really not looking forward to going out in the rain again. "You should stay here, my lady. It could be dangerous."
"Then we will share the danger together," Natalya said, strapping on a couple of well-used axes. "This is the life of my child. I will not stay behind."
Thorin smiled into his beard as he stepped out the door behind her, finding himself not a little envious of her husband. Natalya cut a fine figure in her fur-lined coat; axes on her back, tall iron-shod boots. She seemed to feel his eyes on her and looked back quickly. Thorin made a show of closing the door, noticing it was sagging on its hinges.
The rain had let up a little, by the time they reached the crossroads it was only a drizzle, fast-moving clouds occasionally revealing a crescent moon. There were three old, massive trees standing together inside the fork. Perched on a branch was the changeling.
"There he is!" The little creature pointed at Thorin. "He burned me with iron!"
"And I'll burn your eyes out if you don't give me back my child!" Natalya retorted, looking from side to side as they stepped between the old trees.
Suddenly, three robed figures appeared out of the shadows around them, seemingly out of thin air. Hoods concealed their faces, the sleeves of their garments covering their hands. Thorin turned on his heel, looking from one figure to another, crossing his arms. "A promise had been made to return this woman's baby. We are here to see that promise fulfilled."
The figures slowly began to walk in a circle around them. "Hail, Thorin Oakenshield! Hail great King Under the Mountain!" They spoke almost in unison, their voices raspy and fading, like whispers on the wind.
"What fate has brought the heir of Durin before us?" Said one.
"It is as it was foretold," said the second.
"But can he accomplish the task?" Asked the third.
"What task are you talking about?" Natalya demanded. "Where is my baby?"
"Your baby is safe, we would never harm her," whispered the first figure. "Beautiful child. Cherished, she is. A princess she could be."
Natalya opened her mouth to respond, but Thorin motioned her to be silent.
"But first there is something to be done," the second figure turned to Thorin. "Our sister is gone. She must be laid to rest among the stones before the night is out, or she will know no peace."
"The creature said you would give my child back," Natalya said, drawing one of her axes.
"What has this to do with me?" Thorin asked, wondering where this was going.
"We will give her back," said the third. "When our sister has been laid to rest."
"We cannot walk among the stones," said the second.
"The way is closed to us," said the third.
"The heir of Durin knows the way, the heir of Durin can talk to stone," all spoke together. "Do this and see the child returned."
"It must be done by dawn." The figures stepped back and faded away. Lying between the trees was a shrouded body.
Thorin took a deep breath, regretting that he had not stayed in Osgiliath. The work had been easy, the wages fair. But he had been tasked with helping this young mother now, and he would see it done.
"Among the stones…," Natalya mused. "They must mean the ring of standing stones near the ford."
"Where is that?"
"This way," she replied, pointing down the eastern fork in the road. "But it's a fair distance, we can't make it by sunrise." She covered her face with her hands. "My baby…"
Thorin put an hand on her shoulder. "We will do it, I promise you," he said. "Lead the way." He picked up the body to test the weight, it felt light as a feather. He swung it over his shoulder and together they trotted down the road in the darkness.
"Those witches called you the King Under the Mountain," Natalya said, as they ran along. "But you aren't the king, are you?"
"No," Thorin replied. The exchange had troubled him. Who were those figures? Why had they called him King? His father Thrain was the King, though not in Erebor; in exile in the Blue Mountains. Had something happened to his father? He had been away many years, he realized suddenly he had lost count.
"Were those witches? I have never seen anything like them before," Thorin replied. "From the old stories I remember, the thing that took the place of your baby was a fey. Why would these witches be involved?"
"There must be some reason for the name of that grove of trees," Natalya said, well aware that Thorin had not answered her question. "I'll ask my husband when he returns."
They ran on through the night, the rain coming down sometimes harder, sometimes only a heavy mist. They reached the ring of stones with an hour to go before dawn. Natalya started to run between them but was thrown back, landing hard in the grass. Thorin put down the corpse and gave her a hand up, he could feel the power flowing from the standing stones.
"They won't let us in!" Natalya raged, swinging her axe at one of the stones. It bounced off with a hollow clang. She swung again, with the same result.
"Be still," he told her. "I need to listen." He walked along the ring, studying the stones warily. This was a powerful place. He had seen a few of these rings in his journeys across Middle Earth. No one ever seemed to know who had made them, but they were places of great power, ancient and slumbering. He came to a stone that stood higher than the rest, the top broken, strange symbols carved into the surface. Weathered, moss-covered, powerful. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on the stone, sending his awareness into the rock. He felts the veins running through the stone, quartz, and silver. He saw the quarry the stone had been carved from, many leagues away. The stone went deep into the earth, he could feel some power in it resisting him.
"You are not welcome here, stone-breaker," Thorin felt the voice in his head. "Leave, and do not return."
"I am Thorin, son of Thrain, called Oakenshield," he told the stone. "I am burdened with a great task."
The wave of hostility almost knocked him down. "There is no rest for their kind here! Look elsewhere!"
Thorin took a deep breath, preparing himself. "This answer I will not accept. The life of a child is at stake, I am sworn to see this done before sunrise. The time is upon us."
There was the smell of sparks in the air, like some barrier had been raised. Natalya tried to step between the stones, again something threw her back. She looked to the sky, growing grey in the east, then at Thorin, her face anguished. "It cannot be long now."
Thorin stood back from the stone, realizing that having an argument with a rock was the stupidest thing he could possibly imagine. He turned toward the stone defiantly. "The sons of Durin do not take their orders from rocks, we give them!" He shouted. Quickly, he rolled out his tools and picked up a hammer and chisel. He could feel the hostility from the stone pressing against him, but ignored it. He put his chisel on the exact spot where the stone was weakest and hit it with his hammer. With a series of deafening cracks it split into three pieces, two falling into the circle. He picked up his tools and quickly moved to the next stone, but as soon as he put his chisel on it there was a change in the air, like a breath of wind crossing the circle. Natalya put her hand forward and stepped between the stones. The spell was broken. Thorin gathered up the corpse and followed her.
"Now we can lay this thing to rest, but where?" Natalya darted around, hoping for a sign. Thorin ran around the circle eyeing the ground. He saw a flat stone laying askew, a dark opening underneath.
"There!" He pushed the stone aside, there was a deep rectangular hole. A ready-made grave. No rest, you say!
Thorin tossed the corpse inside and they pushed the stone back, just as the first rays of the sun came over the horizon.
"Were we in time?" Natalya was kneeling in the damp grass, her eyes still on the stone, as if she did not dare to look up. Her voice was barely a whisper.
Thorin put a hand under her arm and helped her to her feet, looking around. The sun came over the horizon, bathing the land in golden light. The rainclouds were moving away to the east. A blue butterfly flew past Natalya's ear and through the stones to land on something pink and white, at the edge of the green circle. He pointed. "There."
Then the Dwarf mother was running, snatching up her baby, holding her close to her breast. Thorin shouldered his pack and went to join her. Natalya was beaming, tears running down her cheeks. The baby looked at Thorin with wide, innocent eyes. He smiled at her, she smiled back, gurgling with happiness.
"I see it now," Thorin said quietly. "You are indeed blessed."
Natalya turned toward him. "I don't know how I can ever repay you, your highness. What you have done for me, a complete stranger…"
Thorin waved dismissively. "I did what any honorable Dwarf would do to help a young mother in need." He smiled at her. "There is no need to repay me. Though I wouldn't mind a couple more of those sandwiches to take with me on the road."
Natalya laughed. "I will give you more than sandwiches! I will cook you a feast fit for a king! And that shirt needs mending, by the way. I would ask you to enjoy a hot bath and a night between clean sheets! Please stay as long as you like!"
Thorin chuckled. "With the promise of such hospitality I will stay, for a day at least! I welcome the opportunity to sample some more of your cooking. And I am looking forward to knowing your real daughter." He gave her a sideways glance. "If you ask nicely, I may even fix that sagging hinge on your front door."
"My husband has been promising to fix that for months," she laughed, smiling prettily at him, still hugging her daughter close. "We should get moving, it will be a long walk before breakfast."
"Ah, but the promise of breakfast will make the trek worthwhile," Thorin said, smiling slyly at her. The events of the past night already fading from his mind. The rain had stopped, the sun was up, warm against his back, strange hooded figures and their prophecies seemed very far away. "What are you making?"
"What does your high…Thorin Oakenshield prefer?" Natalya asked. "Do you like pancakes? I have fresh strawberries and heavy cream."
"That sounds perfect." Thorin spent the whole walk back to her house thinking about pancakes, which he had not eaten in a very long time. And they were amazing.