Chapter 16: Bifur

T.A. 2799 Azanulbizar

This isn't the first time that Bifur has faced orcs. If he survives it won't be the last either. He grips his spear tightly amid the jostling bodies of his people, his voice raised as loudly as theirs in battle chants that creates a deafening cacophony. In the privacy of his own mind he can admit that he is terrified, it's one thing to face a raiding party and another entirely to march into battle. He isn't a War Master or even a tactician, he has no idea what plans have been made. He goes where he is told, stands where he is told and runs, still screaming war cries, when the order comes. That is the way of the common soldier, charging headlong into a mass of orcs that stream from deep within the mountain because that is the order.

He very quickly realises that this has all gone horribly wrong. When Thror and his son were gathering this army they said it would be easy to clear out the infestation, that the orc numbers could never be as high as others believe. That even the most poorly trained dwarf, even their youngest battle-ready warrior, is worth a dozen orcs. Which is all good in theory, but in practice, when they are clearly outnumbered, being worth a dozen orcs is worthless if that number has you alone and surrounded. It only takes one lucky one after all.

He quickly looses track of the others he was close to, ends up fighting among complete strangers watching the back of a young dwarf who must be in his twenties for how short his beard is and how wide his eyes have become. He turns his back on the young one for a second and when Bifur looks around again, he is staring at the sky with those same wide, dead, eyes and his torso cut clean in half. Bifur only avoids the same fate due to the flashing duel blades of another young dwarf, this one still too young for a full beard.

There are too many young, untested, warriors here Bifur realises, and too many old ones to top it off. Where are the ones like him? The warriors who have seen battle and are in their prime, at the peak of their fitness before the rigours of old age start to catch up with them. It makes him wonder if, perhaps, Thror has been set up to fail. There are whispers that he is mad and, in this moment, Bifur can well believe them. Only a madman tries to drive hoards of orcs out of a stronghold with an army made up of children and old warriors.

He's so distracted he doesn't see the axe that becomes embedded in his skull, even as he slaughters its wielder before he falls.

T.A. 2941 Rivendell.

Bifur's injury hasn't made him stupid. Oh, certainly, he was never the brightest diamond, but he still had wits enough then and he has them now. It's his ability to speak, for the most part, that has been scrambled, not his ability to think or understand. True, he has his moments where he isn't completely aware of reality, sometimes his head hurts so fiercely he needs to find a quiet place, and he much prefers a salad over a piece of bacon a lot of the time, but he isn't completely witless.

Much like Bombur, who is often overlooked because of his soft voice and considerable girth, Bifur is regularly forgotten about. Even in a small group such as this, and with Bofur to translate should anyone get lost, he is more often than not left to his own devices. It has its uses, being so overlooked, it's how he manages to overhear their host arguing with the wizard about the possible insanity that waits in the corners of Thorin's mind for the future. It's why he gets to see Kili sneaking into the armoury to test an elvish bow and see the surprise on his face when he finds two that are remarkably similar to his own. Bifur will eat his axe if this isn't the place Frerin obtained the young prince's weapon all those years ago.

He also happens to be present when a pair of newly arrived twin elves come across Frerin and his hobbit wife (if she isn't Bifur's wits have failed more than he thought) and set about quite the joyful reunion. One that draws attention from all corners and leaves their host with his head in his hand muttering a prayer to the Valar for greater patience. He sees Fili scowl at them as they make a fuss over Bluebell, paying her compliments and giving her as much attention as they can purely because she's the daughter of an old friend. He also notices their glee when the prince storms off with a jealous huff and Bluebell's dismay at the same.

It also, unfortunately, means that he happens to be present when Thorin and Frerin finally come to blows over the younger's disappearance. Everyone in the mountains knows about Frerin vanishing. Even now there's a large reward promised for information that would lead to his recovery, dead or alive. It doesn't come as a surprise that Thorin waits until they are somewhere that they might find a measure of privacy for the discussion. Bifur has come to realise that Thorin likes to maintain the privacy of his family as much as possible. He would leave, if he thought he could manage it without being noticed. Unfortunately, the hedge he is sitting behind was chosen simply because he wanted a moment of quiet away from the noise of his kin to ease the throbbing in his head. He's isolated, unseen, and boxed in.

"Yes!" He hears Frerin shout. "I left. What did you expect me to do?"

"You could have told me!" Thorin snaps. "Do you have any idea what it did to us? What it did to Dis? Or the boys? Fili idolised you!"

"I know," is the reply. "I know. I didn't know what I was going to find, and you would have tried to talk me out of it. You know you would because the only way I would have come back was if I got there to find Belladonna had passed and Bluebell agreed to come with me. The situation was too delicate."

"'Too delicate'? She was a grieving widow!"

"There was far more to it than that! The Belladonna you know now is not the one I found in that smial. What happened the day her husband died broke her mind. It was years before she would so much as say my name or her daughter's. How do you think she would have reacted if you had appeared? Or Dis? She's had years to recover and Dwalin's arrival left her terrified!"

"You abandoned us!" Thorin bellows, obviously finally coming to the crux of the matter. "For a woman who turned her back on you and married another!"

Bifur shifts quietly, Frerin has always been spoken of as flighty. It seems a reasonable assessment of a prince who was apparently incapable of staying in one place for so long. He spent nearly three decades with his family before his final disappearance, long enough for people to assume he had started to change and settle down. A short enough time, however, for it to come as no real surprise when he eventually packed up and left again. By contrast Thorin has always been as steady and unmoving as the mountains, although the cracks and weaknesses are there if unseen. Now it would seem that Frerin's travelling was less about his unreliability and more about who was relying on him.

"None of that was her fault!" Frerin cries. "None of it. Until you cornered me, I had never spoken of Ghruna or my betrothal. Bella and I were in love and the longer I left it when I realised that she was my One, the harder it became to tell her. I betrayed her," Thorin makes a disbelieving noise. "I did and she turned to Bungo Baggins because he offered her everything my circumstances had ripped away from her. All the happiness that you and I, and Thrain and Thror, had taken away from her. I couldn't risk it happening again. I got a second chance and you expect me to believe that you would have let me take it?" There is the sound of a fist connecting with flesh. Bifur had wondered how long it would take them to come to blows over it. "It was unforgivable," Frerin's voice is slightly muffled, "both after Azanulbizar and forty years ago. I expect that Dis will beat me bloody herself the next time I see her, and I know I've lost Fili's respect. Unless things have changed more than I thought, I've lost Kili's too as a result. I don't expect them to forgive me, I don't expect it of any of you, but I'm not going to apologise for following my heart!"

"And we just have to accept it?" Thorin demands.

"It's done! If I had my time over, I would probably do it the same way. Accept it or not, Thorin, that's your choice. If not for a meddling wizard I would have stayed in the Shire for the rest of my life and been happy. You would have spent yours believing me dead or as crazy as Thror. We can't change it so what's the point in arguing about it?

"We have the information we needed and have the others to gather so that we can leave. Let us focus on that instead of the past."

"We aren't done with this," Thorin growls.

Frerin makes no reply that Bifur can hear. Not that he really needs to. Both have made their positions clear and to one as out of the loop as he is it is still clear that there is much more to it than either wishes to put voice to. Thorin is right, this isn't the end of it and there will probably be many more discussions of the matter in the future. They can't dance around it forever.