Fíli is angry. Not with Thorin or his friends, he understands that Thorin has secrets because his uncle has explained his reasons and Fíli has accepted them. His friends have been nothing but understanding of the situation, and Fíli is more grateful for them than he thinks he will ever be able to express, but that does not make him less angry with himself. He is angry that he is so weak that he allowed himself to be hit so hard by his grief, grief for parents that he never even really knew and doesn't remember. He almost wishes he didn't know the how or the why, it would very likely hurt less, and he wouldn't feel so guilty for having forgotten them.
There is nothing to be done for it now, however, and the quiet concern and support of his friends is enough to remind him that he is not alone in the world. He has those who care about him and love him, those who have chosen to stand beside him while he is struck so hard by an old grief that he barely understands. That his parents were dead he has always known, but even after he had asked Thorin in those years after Kíli had been lost he had always hoped it had been illness or a tragic accident. He had never dared to ask so that he could find out the truth one way or the other. He had never even considered murder, never imagined that it would be some foul creature bent on revenge against his uncle. He also knows his uncle's fears were correct and that if Thorin had told him the truth of everything so soon after Kíli had been lost to them he would have taken to the road to find the beast.
He pushes the grief aside with the help of his friends and Thorin, their concerned touches and worried glances. He has never grieved properly for his parents, wouldn't have understood the need to at just five years old when they were killed and never having had the cause to before, even when he had confirmed they were dead. Why start now? He focuses on the march, instead, listens to the measured songs that Bofur and Bifur belt out that they find themselves walking in time to. Miner's songs that waver from hard work to hard play and back again. Songs that would turn Bilba's ears red if she could understand a word of them, songs that neither she nor Legolas should be hearing but that Thorin allows because it keeps them all moving, and the elf is more often away scouting ahead than he is walking among them anyway.
"There is something ahead that you must see, Thorin," Legolas says urgently when he reappears from one of his scouting trips. He turns cool eyes on Fíli and his little group, but instead of seeing scorn on his face Fíli sees concern. "It is not pleasant. It might be best to leave the young ones here."
Thorin seems to consider it, a frown pulling at his face. It is dangerous for them to separate, Fíli knows, but if whatever Legolas has seen is troubling enough for him to suggest keeping Adra and Bilba, at least, away it must be something dark indeed.
"No," Thorin says after a long moment, "I would not have us separated, not now that the road has proven so dangerous. We will all follow."
"The ladies do not need to see this," Legolas insists, although his eyes also linger on Ori.
"I am decided on the matter. Adra is a warrior in her own right and Bilba cannot be left unguarded," Thorin replies. "Lead on." Legolas huffs but follows the command, turning concerned eyes on them every few minutes.
It is the smell that alerts them to what they will find as they come over a rise with the breeze blowing in their faces. It's a heavy smell that makes Fíli's stomach roll and draws muttered oaths from the older dwarrow. Obviously they recognise it and when they finally progress downhill Fíli can see why. There are corpses here, dwarrow corpses. The bodies are oddly misshapen and as they draw closer Fíli can see that the skin is a mottled colour and the smell is stronger. Flies buzz about lazily, walking over the corpses as Fíli stares in horror. There are orcs too, mostly hacked to pieces and Fíli turns away as Adra pulls Bilba back, ambling around the edges absently and trying to focus on anything other than the bloating and rot.
"Stonefoots," Nori mutters, finger pointing at the armour of the corpse he has crouched beside, "see the dragon sigil there?"
Something glitters, catching Fíli's eye.
"What would they be doing here?" Dwalin growls. "Fighting orcs too, what in Mahal's name is going on?"
Fíli bends, picks it up.
"Oh," Gandalf mutters, "there are more out there than the Dark Lord or the White Wizard who wish to obtain the Arkenstone. It would make quite the offering to a dragon." Thorin groans.
"How, then, are we to work out whether they managed to obtain it or not?" He demands. Gandalf makes a noise that is very likely the start of some very unhelpful reply.
"I think they might have, Uncle," Fíli says as he turns. "This belonged to the White Wizard, didn't it?"
He holds out a staff, broken in half, mounted with a clear crystal held in place by long black claws, and he hears Gandalf's sharp intake of breath. It is enough to tell him that his suspicions are correct.
"There are tracks too," he adds, "just one set and Mannish in size."
"It makes no sense," Thorin mutters. "They would have had to come back past us, you would have felt it, Gandalf."
"Not necessarily," Legolas cuts in, examining the trail and staff for himself. "The wizard was obviously injured, his stride is not even, and I found several sets of dwarf footprints going south. They'll be able to avoid Dol Guldur easily enough and it will be far easier to go around the southern perimeter than go north. They risk my father's realm or going too close to Gundabad on this side of the wood."
"So we follow?" Dwalin asks.
"No," Thorin hisses. "We are probably ten days, maybe as much as two weeks behind them. I tire of chasing thieves, be they wizard or Stonefoot. If they keep this lead, we will never get them out of Erebor."
"And risk Gundabad ourselves? Or that spider infested wood?" Dwalin demands.
"I can lead you along the path if that is your concern," Legolas says stiffly. "My ability to navigate the enchantments of the Greenwood is one of the reasons my father wished me to have a part in this."
"This will all be for nothing if that fairy gets us lost or poisoned," Dwalin snaps.
"We have little choice," Thorin snarls in reply. "If we can beat them to the mountain we can take the Jewel back. If they manage to get it inside Erebor it is lost. We might be able to sneak in but I do not need to remind you that there is a dragon defending everything inside it. We have to get there first. That means trusting the elf not to play us false."
"Would you?" Fíli asks from his position next to Legolas. His uncle and Dwalin are still arguing and to his mind it's a ridiculous debate at that. Legolas has given them no reason to distrust him. The elf turns ancient eyes down on him but there is no offense in his gaze, only sad resignation.
"No," he says softly. "The fate of the world rests on this. We cannot afford for the Arkenstone to fall into the Enemy's hands. Nor can we let it come under the influence of a dragon. Betrayal would not be in anyone's interests."
"Are you sure you can do it? Are you sure you won't get us lost or eaten?"
"The wood is my home, I know it well. I will see you safely to the other side." He looks at the still arguing dwarrow. "If only I could convince them of the same."
"Is there a better way to make up the time?" Fíli hopes, rather than believes, that the answer will be an affirmative.
"Would that I could tell you there is," Legolas shakes his head. "With the spiders and the enchantments, you would be safest on the path. It will be easier to keep you from straying. I can navigate the forest. I lack the power to prevent you from falling under its influence entirely, but I will do what I can. There is a reason your friends avoid it, galling as it is to admit."
"I won't tell them you said it," Fíli smiles. Legolas bows his head in return. "I'd like to move away from all of this, though."
"Your cousin has already taken Bilba over the rise, the sight and smell made her unwell."
That will get Thorin moving is nothing else. He won't like that Adra has moved out of sight and Fíli has his own reasons for concern. Bilba's new found ability to render herself truly invisible is worrying. It would be very easy for her to use this opportunity to slip away no matter how unlikely it seems that she might make such a monumentally poor decision. He has intended on mentioning it to Thorin more than once, but every time the words have failed him, whether due to his own misery or the fear of Thorin refusing to believe him Fíli doesn't know. Yet, when he tells his uncle that Adra has taken Bilba back down the path, Fíli still neglects to mention that the hobbit can move unseen. He doesn't know how she is doing it so nothing can be done either way. All he can do is watch. Bilba trusts him, he hopes she trusts him enough to stay rather than run.
A.N: For some reason I'm absolutely exhausted tonight... well, I say some reason, my tonsils currently resemble some new form of life so I suspect it has something to do with that. But who has time for being ill when there is fanfic and kids and house renovations and studying to do?
