Chapter Nine: (The People of the Mountain)

The sentiment not again summed up their predicament quite nicely. Wolf and boy had been enjoying themselves until they had slowed due to Padfoot's senses picking up the trouble near the base of the mountain. He had heard the harsh sound of metal meeting metal and the soft slightly wet sound of a body being pierced. Neither wanted to run into the goblins again nor were they particularly eager to run into anymore people who were like the Rangers that they had escaped from. At Padfoot's urging the boy carefully slid off his friend and crouched behind a pile of rocks. "What is it?" he whispered only to have the wolf give him a reprimanding nip.

Harry was fully alert as Padfoot went into 'hunter mode' as the boy dubbed it. Copying the wolf he went to his belly and crawled to peer at what caught his friend's attention. He swallowed thickly. "That's a lot of people."

Indeed there wasn't an army but they could be considered a horde, much more than Harry could quickly or easily count for both sides. He peered around his rock down at the fighting peoples and after squinting closely at one as he plunged an ax into the chest of a goblin, Harry stated, "They aren't Rangers."

The Rangers while having scruffy beards that were perhaps a growth of a few weeks, those fighting below had to have not shaved for years and years! They were also shaped different than the men who had previously been the duo's unwanted traveling companions. Almost but not quite like the Drughu being short. The abundance of hair, axes, and actual clothing ruled out the Drughu from being the ones fighting the goblins. The fighters while compact weren't quite as squat as forest people and were much more fierce in their fighting. He'd never seen a Drughu fight with an ax or sword!

Harry was of two minds about the altercation. Part of him wanted to jump in and help. The previous experience with the mountain creatures had made it clear they were horrid nasty things. They hadn't even tried to talk with Harry when he and Padfoot had tried to scale the mountain the first time. The look in their eyes hadn't been a type of warning that they were trespassing. It was more as if they were hungry and the duo were food. The expression had caused the boy nightmares and he didn't think the people fighting them now would like to end up as dinner. The other part of Harry, the one that didn't want to fight the goblins didn't believe that he and Padfoot should get caught up in the battle. That part wanted to urge his wolf friend that they should flee. Padfoot was fast enough to get them away without drawing too much attention. If they interfered, there was nothing to say that the warriors wouldn't behave like the Rangers had and hold them captive for a misunderstanding. 'Or try and kill Padfoot,' the boy thought after a glance at the wolf.

The option was taken from them as with a snarl, Pafoot leapt over Harry to tear out the throat of the goblin that had come up behind them. The boy had scrambled away causing his back to hit the rock he'd been trying to hide behind. Pulling the knife he'd made from it's sheath he lunged for one of the goblin's legs seeing as that was the most unprotected part of the creatures save for their necks and heads. Harry rolled away missing the slash that was meant to cleave his head from his shoulders. The goblin was then tackled and taken care of by Padfoot who growled low and warningly when he was done. He and Harry looked around and saw that the bearded men were making quick work of the creatures. Wolf and boy watched in awe as outnumbered as they were, the men didn't seem to be intimidated at all as their enemies fell seemingly without taking as much injury themselves.

Padfoot's keen gaze caught a threat that the others including Harry missed causing him to streak off towards the creature that was drawing back on a bow. Due to the wolf slamming into it, the arrow's trajectory was off, wobbling as it was loosed. There was a roar, screaching, and yelling that had Harry -mindful of the knife in his hand- cover his ears due to the sounds. He watched as creatures retreated not even giving either Harry nor Padfoot a second or even first glance as they fled from the bearded men. The wolf was soon standing guard near Harry ready to either knock him over or give the sound for the boy to mount up to flee.

Swallowing as he lowered his hands, still with the knife gripped in one, Harry warily eyed the strangers as they in turn after taking a brief account of their own people, turned to stare at the duo. Neither one knew what the men were saying but could tell it was very much different then the language used by the Rangers when they hadn't wanted them to know what was being said. A shiver went down the boy's back as he edged a bit closer to his furry friend when it seemed a consensus had been reached. One of the strangers separated from the others intent on it seemed to speak with Harry. As the old man, for his beard and the hair that could be seen escaping the man's cap was very white, strode towards the duo, another man joined him.

As they came closer, Harry could see that he had been right. These men were taller than the Drughu by a foot at the tallest. Which made them half a foot taller still than Harry himself who wasn't sure to be glad or not that two of the three peoples he'd come across were as short as himself. Their beards too were longer than he'd thought but were well kept all the same even with having been in a fight with grime and blood spattered about them.

With eyes on the wolf before turning them to Harry, they kept their hands well clear of their weapons as they approached then stopped. The man who the boy could tell was younger due to the hair being gray rather than white. He gave a sort of respectful half bow, nod with his head. "Flói at your service. I want to thank you and your...wolf?" it was said in a questioning sort of way as the man squinted at Padfoot.

"Er..." Came Harry's brilliant reply. He was thankful he could understand them so it seemed as if they too knew another language just as it seemed all the peoples here did. At least it seemed that his own language was common enough that it was a second language or a common one known to those he spoke to so far.

"T'was the wolf that allowed the orc to miss his mark." The white haired one stated before he gave the same sort of bow as the other. "Balin at your service."

Blinking then realizing that he should probably introduce himself as well, Harry gave a very awkward jerk that he knew wasn't nearly as graceful as the other two's. "Um, I'm Harry. This is Padfoot."

Padfoot stretched out his front paws and leaned his head down to them in his own version of a bow causing Harry to give a playful scowl and mutter, "Show off."

The wolf huffed at him and lolled his tongue as he sat on his haunches and Harry disliked that he was embarrassed as he realized that the two men were staring at them strangely but without hostility. Swallowing again and deciding that he should probably put his own knife away he did so. It looked as if the two had questions but it was the older one, Balin, who seemed to be the spokesperson. Rather than ask right away about Padfoot it was still a bit expected. "What is a lad your age doing here?"

Harry supposed it hadn't needed to be pointed out that he was well taken care of with Padfoot along

so it wasn't as if he was alone. Still, he sighed because no matter the people it always seemed to come down to where he and Padfoot were either coming from or going to. Giving a lazy shrug and gestured with his hand that wasn't hold the knife that he belatedly remembered. He quickly sheathed it as he spoke,"We were headed that ways direction."

The two followed the boy's motion down the mountain before exchanging looks and returning their gazes to Harry. Balin's gaze sharpened as he took in the boy a bit more intently while the other, Flói, stated their curiosity aloud. "Is that way home?"

Exchanging his own glance with Padfoot, Harry gave another shrug as he replied, "Maybe." Maybe they would find a home someplace or perhaps they would only call the road home. For now, it didn't really matter or cause either of them any distress. The only snag it seemed always came from their interactions with people. They asked so many questions!

"Are you expected home anytime soon?" Balin inquired next.

"Not really." It wasn't a lie. Padfoot was Harry's home and he was Padfoot's. The Drughu weren't expecting either of them back until possibly winter if they decided to head back that way. They did need to find themselves a place to stay for the night unless Padfoot decided he was going to try and keep going until dawn. Both of them would want to gain distance from the mountain.

It seemed as if Padfoot hadn't like the question as while Harry had answered, he'd gone from amused aloofness to wary guardian. Sensing the change of emotion, the boy gave him an inquisitive glance then seeing that Padfoot wasn't about to start growling or attack, returned his gaze to the two men but with more caution.

"Well, why don't you come back and camp with us tonight?" Flói suggested. "We could use your wolf's help guarding our backs."

"Padfoot," came the absentminded correction but without heat. Harry gazed at the men curiously before turning to Padfoot who didn't seem like he objected but still hadn't eased himself back into his playful nature. Giving a sharp nod, the boy stated, "Alright."

"Wonderful." The two men headed back down towards the others with Harry and Padfoot following slowly behind them. Harry walked closer to Padfoot, hand on the wolf's shoulder as they neared and could make out the distrustful, wary, curious gazes of the others. While Balin was moving towards what Harry could now see was an entryway to inside the mountain with a few other white bearded men, Flói stayed nearer to the boy and wolf.

"Where are we going exactly?" Harry wanted to know.

"Inside of course," Flói stated as if it was obvious.

"Why?"

"It's home. Or will be again."

The Dwarves, for that was what Harry learned they were when they got very much insulted when he'd asked if they were related to the Drughu at all or more like the Rangers. He got an earful for comparing them to the men folk. He supposed he had gotten off easily because he was 'young' and supposedly 'didn't know any better'. It was a bit grating but better than the alternative yet was still promised a 'lesson in manners' that he wasn't sure was a threat or not.

The entrance of the mountain was searched and secured so that the others could enter and close the doors. Lanterns had been lit and the Dwarves had sent out a scouting party while the others had sorted out to make a brief camp for the night. Harry had wanted to go with Padfoot and the others since the wolf was of course going to make sure that it was safe under the mountain for his boy. Padfoot had seemed torn wanting to have Harry with him to ensure his safety and whereabouts, yet also wanting the boy to stay put in an already secure area. The latter won out as there were plenty of people to make sure that Harry didn't come to harm. When he'd tried to argue with the wolf, Padfoot had used his head to knock the boy down and then placed his large paw in the middle of Harry's chest and gave the low growl that he knew was a command.

Much to Harry's chagrin his cheeks flushed even as he pouted hearing a few snickers and amused glances to the duo's antics. Those of course that hadn't been edgy or frightened to have the wolf appear to be threatening Harry. With crossed arms and sulking, Harry found his gaze meeting that of Balin's which was entirely amused and intrigued. Pushing to his feet, Harry went to see if he could talk with the older Dwarf.

"Does that happen often then?"

"What?"

"Padfoot treating you like a disrespectful pup."

"Is that what he's doing?" Scratching at the base of his skull, Harry thought about it and gave a shrug. "I suppose so. We are family."

"And you are still a youngling."

"I am not!" Harry ignored Balin's snort.

"By Dwarvish terms you'd still be considered a child until your third decade. Although, even at such a young age as you are now, you'd have had a beard. Were you Dwarvish."

Harry had to gape at that. "What are you born with beards?"

"Yes, we are."

The boy had no idea what to say to that and could only stare in amazed confusion. He was soon led away to help ensure that he was fed and helped hand out rations to the others. Once everyone was back, and settled, Harry and Padfoot were in for another surprise. It seemed that the Dwarves were not only skilled in battle but with music as well. All manner of musical instruments were brought out or carefully unwrapped before they struck up a tune. With wide eyes Harry settled against Padfoot and listened with rapt attention. It was quite beautiful and both boy and wolf found themselves relaxed, content, and soon falling into a blissful nightmare-less sleep.

And thus a routine was created. Pafoot would help the Dwarves patrol and clean out the caverns when they found any sign of goblins. He would also help pull litters of stone or other supplies. Harry would help where he could, carrying and fetching, delivering messages, and even just keeping someone company. It was in this way that the boy found that the Dwarves were very amusing. They would every once in awhile break into song but it was in order to make jests and give cheek to another. Once it had been directed at Harry and it had taken him a moment to understand, flush in embarrassment, then laugh once he got the punchline and realized that it was all in good fun and wasn't just singling him out. It was quite the opposite and he was strangely being included which caused him to feel warm inside.

It was very much different then when they would settle down at night to relax after a good meal. Those were the times that Harry looked forward to if he was honest with himself. He had learned that there were those songs that didn't have words or were more emotion while others were tales and history. Both he and Padfoot loved hearing those stories. Of course there were other tales and stories that Harry would hear when he was fetching or delivering something.

Just as he had when he and Padfoot had stayed with the Drughu or even when they were by themselves, Harry lost track of time. Lighting was very different here in the mountain so the boy only knew day from night because of when it was time to either sleep or get up to work. They had been there long enough though that Harry felt relaxed and even realized that the reason the Dwarves had allowed them to stay as long as they had. They were showing their hospitality which was in their nature but also because Padfoot had and by extension Harry, allied themselves with the Dwarves when they had helped save Flói.

"Ori?" Harry wondered while he handed over the parchment he'd been asked to fetch by the scribe. The Dwarf wrote down everything that happened but he also drew maps seemed to love to tell stories of what he knew. "What's the Shire?"

"Hmm?" The Dwarf asked a bit distractedly as he was busy scribbling something down. Harry waited until the other looked up before handing the sheaves of parchment over.

"The Shire. What is it?"

"Oh, that's where the Hobbits live."

"Hobbits?" Harry's expression one was of utter confusion. "What's a Hobbit?"

That appeared to take Ori aback until it seemed he'd come to some kind of realization. Harry was forgiven his ignorance as apparently it wasn't well known that a Hobbit had helped during something called the Battle of the Five Armies. Now that sounded interesting to Harry and he made a mental note to see if he could ask about that later. For now he really wanted to know about this Shire and Hobbits that caused the Rangers to feel they needed to attack he and Padfoot.

Ori set aside his current project and then launched into a tale that he had been a part of. It started off while the Dwarf was in the Blue Mountains and Harry wanted to know where the Hobbits and Shire came in but stayed quiet. Any tale told by a Dwarf was engaging and kept Harry's rapt attention. Thus it was this time as well and he soon learned about how it had been common for a while for Dwarves to pass through the Shire but a few that were friends and knew Bilbo would visit him personally. Then of course came actual meeting with Bilbo and the boy soon learned all about the adventure that had become so much more for everyone involved.

Neither had been aware they'd been sitting and talking for hours until Harry's stomach decided to interrupt them to remind them it needed to be fed. As Harry ran off to remedy that problem, he realized he forgot to ask how the Rangers fitted into that story. They hadn't appeared anywhere in the tale that he could recall. He did later tell Padfoot the short version of what he'd learned. "I think they thought I was a tallish Hobbit until they got closer. Wouldn't mind having feet like them when it comes to some of those rocks on the mountain."

That had been another thing that had puzzled their Dwarven hosts. The boy had said he liked the feel of the earth and grass under his feet. The stone was a bit harsher and he would have preferred not to wear anything at all on them. It didn't set well with the Dwaves though so they ended up compromising. To avoid the boots of the like his hosts wore, Harry destroyed what was left of his deer hide cloak and made wraps for his feet. Or he had until he was busy getting lessons on how to defend himself from Flói.

The Dwarf had come upon Harry gazing with awe at Lóni and Frár who were practicing with their weapons. This seemed to cause Flói to get the bright idea to teach Harry how to use his knives 'correctly'. According to the Dwarf if he was going to be throwing himself into battle he needed to know how to survive with a bit more than luck.

"You have to step with the thrust," Flói stated yet again demonstrating. "Not stumble."

"I'm trying! It's these darn wraps!" They had degraded a bit and were causing the boy to have less than stellar footwork. Sitting down he ripped them off and threw them aside and felt much much better! Wriggling his toes he grinned. "That's more like it!"

The Dwarf didn't appear to agree and sighed with great weariness. "This wouldn't happen if you had proper boots."

"Don't want them!" He stubbornly stated with a frown. "They're heavy and they make me stumble more than those did." He pointed at the ratty hide.

"Let's see if you still say that when we're done and the soles of your feet are bloody."

A.N. - Yes, yes, I did alter the history with not allowing Flói to be killed just outside the mountain right away. Also, it was never explicitly stated how many Dwarves followed Balin. There had to be at the very least a hundred for a colony and for Balin to proclaim himself Lord of Moria. Sorry it's as short as the other chapters but if I'd waited, you wouldn't be getting an update this month.