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Chapter Fourteen
Over Hill
It was their fifth straight day of walking, and the Misty Mountains looked just as far to Alison as they had when they had first set out from the Hidden Valley.
The journey from the Shire to Rivendell had to have been long as well, but they'd had ponies for the most part. Besides their speed and endurance, the ponies had helped immensely with carrying supplies, and Alison already missed the luxuries they provided as her backpack straps dug painfully into her shoulders. Though her new swords were light, they still added weight to the heavy load she carried on her back, making her hot and tired as she stumbled along with the Company over another steep hill. When she reached the top, she bent over with her hands on her knees, struggling to catch her breath as her thighs and calves burned.
She straightened back up as the last dwarves straggled over the hill. Bofur and Óin looked ready to collapse under the weight of Bombur, who was propped in between them, his face red with strain and his clothes soaked through with sweat.
"Come along," Thorin said once everyone joined at the top of the hill. "We do not stop until nightfall."
Alison kept her eyes on the horizon and the foreboding peaks of the mountains wreathed in clouds and mist like some vast, writhing scarf. All the while, she had her own fog clouding her head.
She knew that the Company traveled over the Misty Mountains to reach Erebor, but she felt like something important had happened in the mountains before they had finished crossing them. She thought long and hard, trying to recall anything she could. She had an idea of mines in the mountains, but that didn't seem right to her. Perhaps she was thinking of the wrong story. She sighed, wishing bitterly—not for the first time, and certainly not the last—that she had taken Gandalf's advice and reread The Hobbit when he'd told her.
"Alison," a voice said insistently from beside her. She started, meeting the expectant gaze of Bilbo, and she realized that the hobbit had been speaking to her.
"Sorry, Bilbo, what?"
"I was asking if you were all right," he said, his sharp brown eyes searching hers. "You look worried."
"Oh, no," she said, settling her gaze back on the distant peaks. "I'm fine. It's all the heat and everything. I think it's getting to me."
He nodded and wordlessly handed her his water-skin, which she took gratefully. Foolishly, she had drained hers some miles ago, and they hadn't come across fresh water since then. She took a small sip from Bilbo's before handing it back, letting the leftover moisture settle on her dry lips for a few moments. She still had her lip balm, though it was probably buried somewhere at the bottom of her pack, and she didn't think Thorin would approve of her slowing down the Company just to stop and search for it.
"You know," said Bilbo quietly after several moments, "Lord Elrond offered for me to stay in Rivendell."
Alison whipped her head so fast that her neck cricked. "What?"
"He told me if it was my wish, then I could stay," he said, looking down at his abnormally large and hairy feet, a frown pulling on the corners of his mouth.
"But you said no?" she asked—unnecessarily as he was clearly beside her.
He nodded, though he still looked troubled. "Yes. But…I wanted to stay."
"I understand the appeal, trust me," she said. She thought of Estel and his wide, curious smile, and her heart twinged. "Even though you must've wanted to stay behind, you still chose to remain a part of the Company. That takes some serious courage and loyalty, Bilbo. I wouldn't beat yourself up over contemplating the choice of not going any farther."
"It's such a riddle," he said, shaking his head but looking somewhat pleased with her words. "Trying to figure out why exactly I'm doing all of this—agreeing to an adventure— Is something wrong?"
Alison had stopped dead in her tracks, frozen, her heart stuttering as a memory came rushing back full-force. The name of a chapter title floated in front of her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat: Riddles in the dark…riddles in the dark…
Everything was clear now: the journey over the Misty Mountains, the goblin-tunnels, and Bilbo, alone in an underground lake with a creature, playing a game of riddles for his life, finding a trinket in the process…
If they traveled through the Misty Mountains, they would be caught by goblins, and Bilbo would be separated from them and forced to solve riddles in exchange for his life. She remembered what would happen now, but Galadriel's words echoed in her mind as she stood, still rooted to the spot: "Everything has changed already; the future is now a game of chance."
What if they died by the goblins' hands in the mountains? What if something were to happen to Bilbo? They couldn't pass through the mountains. There had to be another way—
"Alison?" Bofur said, and she jumped, having forgotten there were still others behind her. "You all right, lass?"
She floundered for a second, her mouth open. "Y-yeah," she stammered, regaining her wits. "Just a…cramp." She reached down and rubbed her calf, grimacing as she did so; technically it wasn't acting, because her legs actually ached. Bofur nodded understandingly.
"Are you fine now?" he asked, and she straightened, stretching out her leg muscles.
"Yeah, I'm good," she said brightly, ignoring the concerned glance he and Bilbo shared. "If you'll, uh, excuse me…"
She jerked her thumb over her shoulder and hurried away as fast as her added weight would allow. She bypassed Balin and Dwalin, who eyed her curiously until she reached the front of the throng and Thorin.
He looked at her in surprise when she appeared at his side, clutching at a stitch in her chest.
"Yes, Miss Ashburne?" he said. He did not break his pace, and Alison forced herself to keep up with him. He was quite speedy for a dwarf, though his legs were barely longer than her own.
"Is there another way around the Misty Mountains?" she asked frantically. He looked at her as if she had suggested they fly to Erebor.
"There is not," he replied, his brows furrowing. "Why?"
"Um…mountains aren't really my thing," she said, avoiding his eyes. "And it just seems so long. Isn't there another way?" She tried to keep the pleading note out of her voice as she met his stony eyes again, the same color as the blue sky above them.
"The High Pass is the fastest way to get over the mountains if we are to reach Erebor by Durin's Day," he said. "We have lost enough time as it is due to our stay in Rivendell. I am afraid you must face your qualms, Miss Ashburne, for we are still going to make for the Pass."
He looked at her suspiciously as she cast an anxious look to the peaks ahead. "Is there another reason you do not wish to cross the mountains?"
"Um…Glorfindel talked about them in Rivendell," she said haltingly. "He said that they were dangerous; filled with goblins and beasts that were always eager to find travelers and eat them."
"Aye," he said, "but they have been there for centuries; they will have descended into the very depths of the mountains by this point. They won't have any reason to be lingering on the paths."
"And what if you're wrong?"
"There is always a chance I am wrong," he said in a low voice.
She tried not to let her despair show at his words, but he must have noticed it, for he said, "We will be fine, Miss Ashburne. Gandalf will be joining us soon, and we can handle ourselves until then."
She stayed silent, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth, and they walked side by side as they braced another hill. She wondered if she had overstayed her place until he spoke again.
"How is your training coming along?" he asked.
She gave a non-committal shrug. "Fine, I guess." She had been training every night since they had left Rivendell, practicing her various drills on archery and swordplay with Kíli and Fíli. She was still abysmal, but at least she no longer felt completely useless. "I have archery with Kíli tonight."
He nodded thoughtfully. "They tell me your progress is making quite a bit of headway." She shrugged again, not sure how to respond. "I would like to oversee your training one night to see how far you've come," he continued. "Fíli has much praise for your dedication in learning how to wield your swords."
Alison blushed, feeling a bit of pride. She had taken to sword-fighting ever since Elrond had given her the Twin Blades, often leaving Kíli to teasingly lament that she had no need for him and his archery lessons. But the swords had reminded her that she was a Hero, and she wanted to live up to it—to live up to Eleon and Eirene Ashburne.
She was spared having to answer when Balin hiked up to Thorin's shoulder. He gave Alison a polite smile and nod before speaking to Thorin. "We need to start shifting our course northwest."
"How much longer do you think it will take us to reach the mountains?" Thorin asked.
"If we keep our pace like this, I expect at least another half a week's worth of traveling," he said, scrutinizing the distant peaks with narrowed eyes. "But that is also if the weather permits."
At the mention of the mountains again, Alison's unease returned as she slipped behind Thorin and Balin, not trusting herself to keep the worry from her features. Despite Thorin's words of confidence, she couldn't help but be apprehensive. By the time he ordered them to stop and make camp for the night, her cuticles were cracked and torn from picking nervously at them, and her bottom lip felt as if she was wearing a hole right through it.
To distract herself, she found space away from the camp and took out her swords. The Twin Blades glowed in the sun's dying light as she twirled them experimentally, training her wrists to respond to the movements smoothly like she'd been fighting for years instead of a few days. Once she loosened up a bit, she began incorporating the few foot movements Fíli had been teaching her, taking it slowly until she felt comfortable picking up the pace.
She thought practicing would keep her from focusing too much on the next part of their journey, but the swords weighed like constant reminders in her hands, forcing her mind to conjure up images of bloodthirsty goblins tearing them limb from limb while somewhere, Bilbo was dragged to the depths of some black lake with a pale creature's hands wrapped around his throat—
Her sword Nightbane fumbled in her right hand. She reached out on reflex to catch it, but let out a cry of pain when the blade sliced shallowly across her palm and clattered on the rocks beneath her feet. Droplets of blood splashed onto the stones, and she groaned while her hand smarted.
She let out a stream of curses as she sheathed Lightgiver and bent down to pick up its twin, not realizing she had an audience until someone let out an amused chuckle behind her.
"Who knew such a fair face could have such a foul mouth?" said Kíli, watching her with a gleam in his dark eyes.
Her hand hurt too much to focus on the flirtation in his sentence as she straightened, Nightbane in her unhurt hand. "You were watching me the whole time?"
He looked pointedly around the empty landscape. "Is there something else you'd rather me watch?"
She ignored him, cursing at her hand. "I'll need Óin to patch this up."
She started for the camp, but Kíli wrapped a large hand around her elbow.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his dark eyes searching hers.
She wrenched her arm free with a scowl. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
Kíli glanced at her swords. "You're distracted. You don't make mistakes when you're focused, Alison."
"I'm not a swordmaster. I've been practicing for a week. I do and will make mistakes." She shook her head. "And since when do you think you know me?"
He blinked, startled. "I'm sorry if I offended you."
She scratched at her hand, distracted. "No, you're fine. That was rude of me. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just…on-edge. I mean, this whole quest, the Hero thing, and—what?"
With every word that tumbled out of her mouth, Kíli's eyes had widened more and more. But his gaze wasn't focused on her, but rather, her hand.
She looked down. Alarmed, she realized she'd been scratching at her injured hand. But it wasn't injured at all. Her hand had stopped bleeding, and where the cut had been, only an itchy pink scab remained. She met Kíli's eyes.
"There's no way," she breathed. "It was—it was bleeding. You saw it! I cut myself!"
He still stared at her like a third eye had sprouted on her chin. "Another Hero perk?"
"I-I guess." She flexed her hand. Her palm still itched like mad, but there was no pain. Not even a twinge. Just what else did she have that she didn't know about?
Suddenly, Kíli chuckled. She glanced at him. "What's so funny?"
He continued to giggle. "Well," he said between breaths, "if our quest ends badly, and Smaug does indeed incinerate us, perhaps you'll only receive a light char by comparison."
Her lips twitched in a smile. "A nice, braised Hero."
"Indeed." He clapped her shoulder, and she pitched forward at the heavy weight, but he didn't seem to notice. "Come; I'm sure Thorin will want to hear about this newfound ability of yours."
She followed him back toward the fire. Despite her light moment with Kíli, she couldn't help the dread that settled deep into her gut and took root there as she glimpsed the black mountains in the distance.
She curled her hand. The itching had subsided, but the scab remained. She tried to let it give her some reassurance. Perhaps she wouldn't be so helpless against the goblins. Perhaps she could manage to keep the dwarves, Bilbo, and herself alive.
That is if she didn't screw up first.
Fíli awoke to an uncomfortable, clinging mist and stifling humidity. A thick, damp blanket of fog lay over the Company as they stirred, roused from their slumber by the mist. Next to him, Alison pulled herself into a sitting position atop her bedroll, her loose hair frizzy and sticky.
"Oh, it's just the weather," she said. "And I thought somebody was just trying to smother me as I slept."
Fíli cracked a grin at her sarcastic tone. "Sorry, that was me. I had to find some way to keep your snores from creating an avalanche."
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Instead, she turned her attention to her bedroll as she began to pack her belongings.
"Fíli!" Thorin called from the other side of their camp. He beckoned him over. Kíli already stood by his side, absently stroking the bow in his hands, and he grinned in greeting when Fíli approached.
"Yes, Uncle?"
"I need you and Kíli to scout ahead," Thorin said. "This fog is troublesome, and I don't want to walk into any nasty surprises later. You can trade places with Dwalin and Miss Ashburne mid-afternoon."
"You're letting Alison scout?" Fíli asked in surprise.
"Aye," Thorin said. "I told her she would be expected to pull her own weight in this Company, and I meant it. Now she has a chance to do just that."
Fíli nodded again, and Thorin clapped them both on the shoulder before moving away.
"Come on, then, Fee," Kíli said, starting toward the place where Bombur sat handing out bowls of porridge. "We have a long day ahead of us, and I don't want to resort to eating you on the way if I don't get some food now."
Shaking his head, Fíli followed him. After their hurried meal of cold, soggy porridge, the Company shouldered their packs and moved out. Fíli and Kíli climbed to the front until everyone else was almost lost in the fog, their weapons drawn and their eyes scanning for signs of anything out of place.
They had not forgotten the orc hunt by a long shot, and though they hadn't seen hide nor hair of them yet, Fíli knew that they were still out there. Hopefully, their trail would be lost in the mountains, but he kept his eyes peeled the whole time he and Kíli scouted.
The Company traveled in silence, the fog taking its toll and making them sleepy and quiet, but the mountains drew steadily closer as the day wore on.
Kíli walked beside Fíli, his hands on his bow and an arrow already fitted to the string, prepared to fly at a moment's notice. Fíli was enjoying the silence despite the smothering fog, but he stifled a sigh when Kíli, per usual, decided to break the spell.
"Do you remember mornings like this back in Ered Luin?" he said wistfully. "When we'd wake at the crack of dawn, the smell of baking bread and roasting meat already thick in the air? And we'd sneak out of our rooms before Mother woke and wander the halls until we found our way outside, then we'd scale the walls and find a suitable hiding place, watching the fog on the mountainside disappear as the sun rose?"
"Well, for starters, this fog isn't disappearing," said Fíli wryly. "And I'm sure you also remember Thorin and half the guard chasing us down for scaring our poor mother out of her mind when she found our beds empty."
Fíli smiled as he said this, a sense of homesickness coiling around him. But it wasn't the sharp pang he had felt since setting out on the quest; it was more like the warm, comforting feeling one gets when they've been away from home for a long time, and they finally step through the doorway and see the bright and cheery fire in the hearth and remember the familiarity of everything as if they had never left.
"I hope Erebor is as great as our home," Kíli said softly. "Though I wish to see the halls of our fathers, to reclaim our homeland, I feel Ered Luin will always be considered my true home."
Fíli nodded. "I feel the same. But Erebor will be great, Kíli. Ered Luin will always be our home, but Erebor is now, too. We will have two homes soon, not just one."
Kíli clasped his brother's shoulder. "You're right," he said, grinning. "Homes for the heirs of Durin."
Fíli shared a smile with his brother. He would never dare admit it, or else he'd never hear the end of it, but it was nice to have his brother with him on this journey; it reminded him that he wasn't so alone.
Kíli returned his attention to the front but stopped walking, his mouth dropping open in amazement. "Fee…"
"The first mountain," Fíli said, halting when he saw the slopes and gradual, naturally carved paths winding upwards, disappearing into the thick swaths of fog and mist.
"We've made it," he said as the rest of the Company slowed behind them, taking in the first of the Misty Mountains with wide eyes and slack jaws. "We've reached the Misty Mountains."
After his initial awe upon seeing the first mountain, Kíli's enthusiasm had dissipated quite rapidly after beginning the treacherous climb up the mountainside. Walking over plains and valleys carrying supplies and weapons and armor roughly equal to the weight of an ox had been difficult enough, but now trying to climb with all of that weight? Kíli was about ready to pitch himself over the side; and he had come close, several times—by accident—to doing just exactly that.
The mountain paths were narrow and unstable, forcing the Company to move slowly and walk in single-file. They were forced to sleep on the ledges and rocks and try to shelter themselves as best they could with their blankets and the sheer cliffs. To add to their troubles, the incessant mist that had been plaguing them only seemed to be getting worse the farther they climbed.
It was their third day in the mountains already, and the mist showed no signs of relenting. There were times when it was so thick that Kíli could barely see his hand waving in front of his face. Their pace had slowed to a crawl, and the Company was horribly subdued; morale ran ever lower as the supplies they had gotten from the elves dwindled. All their meals consisted of stale bread and dry, bland cheese, and the measly portions were beginning to take a toll on the emotional well-being of the dwarves and Bilbo, who were used to hearty fares and ale.
Kíli sighed, rubbing his nose and wishing the stupid fog would just dissipate already. Out of curiosity, he wondered if he could still see his feet in the swirling mist, and he looked down, much to his mistake.
The fog had slowly been thinning out as the day wore on, and now it was only a gauzy sheet wrapped around his body. The valley below had become visible, a shaggy green rug dotted here and there with ant-sized trees and a small snaking river that looked like one long cut in the land. Kíli wasn't afraid of heights, but the notion of falling off the mountain to that land so very far below still made his stomach turn, and he looked away quickly.
With the break in the fog, Kíli noticed then how dark it was. The slate-gray of twilight encroached on the Company, and far out to the northern horizon brewed a fierce-looking array of black clouds. Kíli's heart sank. A storm was the last thing they needed in such a perilous place.
When what little daylight left was spent, Thorin called for their halt. Soon, the Company was seated on their bedrolls, their backs propped against the mountain-face behind them as they chatted quietly, the smell of tobacco smoke hanging thick and cloying in the heavy air. Kíli retrieved his own pipe and lit it, letting the smoke curl comfortably in his lungs. He tilted his head back against the rocks, closed his eyes, and let the familiar sounds of the Company wash over him.
When his tobacco was spent, Alison pushed some rations into his hands. She had been so quiet that Kíli had very nearly forgotten that she was beside him. She had her own small portion of grainy brown bread and dried golden cheese in her lap, but it looked untouched. He took the food with a mumbled thanks, but she didn't seem to be listening. She stared out at the horizon with a listless expression, picking at her nailbeds. As he watched, bright sparks of blood welled up on her fingers before they crusted over and disappeared. It was like he didn't even exist.
"You should eat, Alison," he said. He took an unsavory bite out of the stale, tasteless bread and almost retracted his statement. He swallowed the bite with some difficulty. "You need to keep up your strength."
"I'm not hungry," she said.
He stared. "Since when are you not hungry?"
Her eyes roved over the dark valley. "I'm just tired."
"Right. So, that's why you've been tearing up your fingers and bouncing your knee ever since we've sat down?"
She shook her head, not even fazed by his dubious tone. "Yep. I'm perfectly fine."
"Alison—"
"Goodnight, Kíli," she said. Without another word or glance at him, she turned her back and curled up on her bedroll, drawing her blanket tightly over herself and shielding her face with the fabric.
Kíli blinked as if he'd been slapped. He wondered if he had done something to suddenly make her so cold. It was like she'd reverted back to how she had been when they'd first left Hobbiton when he and she hadn't gotten along. He frowned, and then let out a deep sigh when there was a faint rumble of thunder in the distance.
He finished off his pathetic dinner and eventually laid down next to the still form of Alison, who was obviously not yet asleep but was trying to act like it. Not knowing what else to do, he closed his eyes, but it took him a long time to finally drift into sleep, aware of the woman beside him who was so close but felt so far at the same time.
Alison was at her wit's end.
After fighting for a week against the all-consuming fear of the future, she had finally accepted defeat and stopped defending herself against the anxiety that now knotted her stomach and held her captive in her own body as the Company had crossed into the Misty Mountains.
She didn't know what to do anymore except hope—hope that they wouldn't be captured by goblins; hope that they wouldn't die on the High Pass; hope for anything, really, that would ensure their survival.
Thorin had awoken them at dawn to get started—if it could even be called dawn. Inky black clouds churned in the sky and no sooner had they gotten up, repacked, and eaten than the sky cracked open, and the torrential rain and hurricane-force gale had started.
If there was anything that could make Alison feel worse than she already did, it was the presence of the storm that stayed on them all day as they painstakingly pressed forward, Thorin refusing to be deterred by the awful weather. She was cold, wet, and miserable as the rain pounded down and the wind tore at her hair and clothes, and the arcing lightning and booming thunder certainly did nothing to ease her worries.
Alison assumed it was nearing night when the oppressing darkness grew infinitesimally darker, and Thorin finally called for their halt. "We must find shelter!"
Her relief quickly solidified into terror when above the shrieking storm, Dwalin roared. "Look out!"
Alison looked up and gasped, inhaling a bunch of raindrops that sent her coughing. Barely silhouetted against the dark sky was the outline of a giant boulder, soaring toward them through the air as if it had been thrown from the mountains itself.
"Take cover!" Thorin bellowed, and a second later the boulder collided with the mountain they stood upon. A tremor that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth went through Alison's bones as debris began to cascade around them.
"Get back!" Kíli shouted, grabbing her and bodily shoving her into the cliff-face behind them as chunks of rock bigger than her head rained down. Watching them fall, she had no doubt that if Kíli hadn't pushed her when he did, she would now be one of those stones falling to the valley below.
"This is no thunderstorm!" Balin cried. "It's a thunder-battle! Look!"
Across the Pass, there was a bone-grinding rumble louder than the thunder around them, and as Alison watched, a piece of the mountain came to life. Her knees went weak when she realized that there was a humanoid shape, hewn from the mountain itself, that peeled itself away from the stone and roared, the sound sending shock waves around the mountain range, echoing ten times over around the peaks. There was another tremble from behind the Company, and another figure, thousands of feet tall, broke away from the mountain, ripping a huge chunk of stone from the peak and pitching it at the giant in front of them.
"Well, bless me!" Bofur said in awe. "The legends are true! Giants! Stone giants!"
There was another ear-shattering roar as the hunk of rock the second giant threw slammed into the first one, and it staggered back, every one of its movements like its own miniature earthquake.
There was another tremor beneath her feet, but it was not coming from the two giants battling it out in front of them. A split second before it happened, Alison clutched at Kíli wildly, her breath rasping in her throat. "We have to move! Kíli, we have to go now—"
But it was too late. With a force akin to that of the earth splitting apart, another stone giant emerged, shedding stones and rocks as it awoke. With a thrill of terror, Alison realized that they were literally standing on the giant's legs. A wide fissure appeared between Fíli and Kíli behind her, and the two brothers shuffled away from it, eyes wide.
"Kíli!" Fíli cried. "Grab my hand!" He held out his hand to his brother, but the crevice was too wide; Kíli couldn't reach him.
The third giant got to its feet, the Company split down the middle, each half huddling on one of its legs. As their giant surged forward, the first giant came forward to meet it, not even hesitating before promptly smashing its rocky skull into their giant's head, causing it to stagger back into the mountains behind them.
The leg Alison stood on swung back at an awkward angle, and through the blinding rain, she could see a ledge below them. Thorin shouted, "Come on! Jump!" before leaping into space and landing precariously on the ledge. Without question, Glóin followed, and then everyone else, Kíli leading Alison by her hand until they reached the end of the giant's leg.
"Go, Alison! Jump!" he said, and without even pausing to think of how insane it was, Alison launched herself into empty air, her stomach swooping until she collided painfully with solid ground again, a sharp needle of pain lacing up her ankles. A few seconds later, Kíli clattered to a landing behind her. Now their only problem was the other half of the Company, still stranded on the stone giant's other leg.
Alison watched in fear as the other half of the Company consisting of Bilbo, Bofur, Dwalin, Bombur, Ori, Dori, Balin, and Fíli swung by, clinging onto the rocks for dear life as the giant went in for retaliation. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst from her chest as the first giant swung a vicious, rocky punch to the giant carrying the dwarves and Bilbo.
With a crunching sound that made the hair on Alison's arms stand straight up, the Company's giant's head came clean off from the force of the blow. She heard Kíli's sharp intake of breath from beside her even over the sound of the storm and gripped his arm tightly.
The giant's head fell, and its body crumbled, folding in on itself as it too began to fall. She stared in horror as the other half of the Company was smashed into the cliff-face in front of them. They hadn't even had the chance to scream.
"NO!" The word tore from her throat. "No, no, no, no!"
Thorin surged forward, and they stampeded after him toward the site of the collision.
Oh, God, no, please, no, no, no. Bilbo, Bofur, Fíli—no, no, please let them be alive, please let them be—
As they rounded a bend in the pathway, Alison skidded to a stop and let out a sob of relief. The other of the Company that had smashed into the wall had miraculously managed to not be squashed like bugs, instead laying in a squirming, groaning pile, shaken but uninjured.
Kíli pushed past Alison, hurrying to help his brother to his feet, and she sagged against the cliff behind her. Fíli looked dazed, as if he didn't quite know what had just happened, his wet hair disheveled and sticking to his ashy face as Kíli pulled him into a tight hug. Thorin rested a hand on his back, his face as lined as ever but with a palpable look of relief on his features.
Their brief moment of levity vanished when Bofur struggled to his feet frantically, crying, "Where's Bilbo? Where's the hobbit?"
"There!" Dori shouted, pointing to Alison's right, where a pair of small, pale hands were just visible, clinging onto the ledge. "Grab him!"
Dwalin and Bofur dived for Bilbo's hands, and Alison scrambled to the edge, looking down at Bilbo's white, terrified face as he flailed in empty air, his hands hanging desperately to the ledge. "Bilbo!"
"Bilbo, grab my hand!" Bofur encouraged, but Bilbo was too far away, and his arms were too short to reach up that far. "Come on, take it!"
But suddenly Thorin was there, swinging down the cliff with one hand gripped on the ledge, while his other hauled Bilbo into the reach of Dwalin and Bofur, where they promptly pulled him up. Alison rushed to where Bilbo collapsed on the ledge, panting, his face drained of all color, and knelt down beside him just as a shout rent the air behind her.
Thorin had almost fallen himself, but Dwalin had caught him and hauled him to safety. The dwarves clambered around, their sudden fear turning into relief when they saw that Thorin was safe.
Alison turned back to Bilbo, grasping his hand so tightly that he winced.
"Bilbo Baggins, don't you dare ever do that to me again," she said, her eyes burning. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
He nodded faintly, his face starting to regain some color. "I'm fine," he said weakly. "And trust me, I will most definitely not be doing that again."
Alison laughed hoarsely, pulling the hobbit into a bone-crushing hug.
"I thought we had lost our burglar," Dwalin said, watching the exchange between Alison and Bilbo as he helped Thorin to his feet.
"He's been lost ever since he left home," Thorin snapped. He glared at Bilbo. "He should never have come. He'd be better off in Rivendell; he has no place amongst us."
"That's not fair, Thorin!" Alison protested as Bilbo looked down, his hurt visible on his face. "It wasn't Bilbo's fault he almost fell off the cliff!"
"Hold your tongue, Miss Ashburne," Thorin said, his eyes flashing.
Alison shot to her feet, her hands shaking.
"Just because he's not some great warrior like you doesn't mean he's useless or weak!" she snarled. "He may not be a dwarf, but he deserves just as much respect as you command—"
"Miss Ashburne, hold your tongue," Thorin positively growled, his voice like the thunder itself. She couldn't quell her angry trembling, but his tone was enough to shut her up.
There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence until he jerked his head and said, "Dwalin." The battle-scarred dwarf followed him around another bend in the path, leaving Alison alone with the still-stricken Bilbo and the wide-eyed dwarves. She ignored their stares until Thorin barked, "All of you, come on. We've found shelter."
They trekked to where his voice had issued from and found to their intense surprise and relief a wide and spacious cave to camp for the night. Alison stalked in, her chin raised as she passed Thorin, who glowered at her as she swept by.
"It looks safe enough," Dwalin said, squinting into the shadows.
"Search to the back," Thorin ordered. "Caves in the mountains are seldom unoccupied."
Glóin took out some branches and twigs from his pack that had miraculously managed to stay dry and lit torches for Dwalin and Thorin to take as they examined the back of the cave. After determining it to be safe, the rest of the Company moved in and set up camp.
Alison found a place near the very back of the cave and settled her bedroll on a sandy patch of ground, wanting to be as far away from Thorin as possible. She unbraided her dripping hair and shook it out, sending water droplets flying everywhere. Out of precaution, she kept her clothes and swords on, a new habit she had picked up from the dwarves so she could be prepared to fight or flee at any time. She looked up from combing her fingers through her hair when Kíli dropped his stuff down beside her, making up his bedroll silently and then sitting down, refusing to look at her.
There was the sound of branches thudding against the ground, and Alison looked over to see Glóin rubbing his hands together. "Right, then. Let's get a fire started."
"No, no fires," Thorin objected. "Not in this place. Everyone, get some sleep. We start at first light."
"We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us," Balin said. "That was the plan."
"Plans change," Thorin replied, and Alison rolled her eyes. "Bofur, take the first watch," he ordered, and Bofur nodded, the flaps on his hat bobbing up and down as he set up a post near the cave's opening.
The cave fell into quiet muttering and the sound of shuffling as everybody prepared for bed. Alison laid down and glanced at Kíli. He avoided her gaze.
"You're angry," she said bluntly.
"I'm not angry," he said, staring at the ceiling. "You just shouldn't have said that to Thorin."
Alison sighed angrily. "Did you hear the way he was talking to Bilbo? Somebody had to say something—"
"I'm not agreeing with what he said." He turned to look at her then, his dark eyes lost in the shadows. "But you could have used a different approach instead of attacking him with everyone watching."
"As if he didn't do the same thing!" she hissed. She glared at him when he didn't say anything. "Whatever. 'Night."
She turned on her side and curled into a ball, still shivering in her wet clothes, but she wasn't about to let him see that. Especially when her fear of the goblins crept back in, and her teeth began to chatter for an entire reason other than cold.
"Alison," Kíli said, propping himself on one elbow to look at her before she could clamp her mouth shut. "Oi. Are you all right?"
She forced herself to nod as another shudder wracked her body.
"You're shaking like a leaf," he remarked, scrutinizing her carefully. "Are you cold?"
She ignored him this time, hoping he would leave her alone, so she didn't have to explain why she was so cold, why it burrowed so deeply into her bones…
She thought he'd gone to sleep when he didn't say anything else, but she nearly jumped out of her skin when something warm and heavy settled over her. A thick, fur-lined blanket had been flung over her huddled body that instantly enveloped her in warmth. She glanced over her shoulder, but Kíli faced the opposite way, and he did not stir.
Uncomfortable, Alison realized that he had given her his own blanket. She fingered it warily, her gut churning with guilt. She'd been so rude to him over the last several days, but he'd still made sure to keep her warm. She wondered if she shouldn't say something. The cave was quiet, though she thought she could detect a couple of low voices issuing from the entrance.
She continued to pick at the blanket. It smelled of tobacco and mildew, but it was comfortable and dry. She should give it back, she thought as she melted under it, but perhaps a few minutes of warmth wouldn't hurt…
A crack made her eyes snap open. Her gaze met with a crevice in the cave wall directly in front of her, growing wider by the second. She gasped. "F—"
Faster than she could sit up, scores of goblins poured into the cave with snarls and screeches. The Company bolted awake, but the goblins were already on them. Alison was torn from her bedroll with a cry and shoved into the crack in the wall, swept along ever deeper into the tunnels beneath the mountains.
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