Hello there! Only one for you tonight, I'm afraid, but we're nearly caught up. I hope that you enjoy, and forgive any of my typos.
Chapter Thirty-Four: The Weight of Secrets
The pain was getting worse. For hours now, Dís had been ignoring it, stubbornly, desperately, but the sensation searing across her lower abdomen was growing stronger with every loping stride of the wolf. Riding Sitka was significantly less bumpy than riding a pony, but she felt every step, every jostle.
She wrapped an arm around herself, pushed inwards as if to squash the pain, but it flared in protest and she let out a groan. Sitka faltered, twisting his head to try and gaze at her with those doleful eyes of his, though he could not turn his face far enough.
"I am alright, my friend," she lied quietly, spurring him onwards. She could not lag behind the group. Not now. All their plans and prayers had been crushed in a rockfall, and if she was fated to worsen things, at least she should keep it to herself.
A shot of fear rang through her, ricocheting off every bone and lodging in her heart as her stomach seized again.
Another baby. She was going to lose another baby.
Beneath the stabbing pains she felt a weak flutter, too fragile to be called a kick, and she swallowed a sob.
The pain grew worse.
"Dís, are you alright?"
She jumped – she had not even noticed Vinca riding up beside her. The girl's eyes were slightly narrowed, but her brows were furrowed in what was obviously concern.
"As a matter of fact," Dís said, a tremble belying her calm voice, "I think I need to relieve myself. Be a good lass and tell Fíli to slow the group, will you? No need to stop, I'll surely catch up."
Vinca hesitated, looking far from convinced, but she nodded and urged her pony towards the front of the group. Dís peeled off into the trees and out of earshot, and stumbled off of Sitka's back before he had even stopped. The wolf whined, twisting around to nuzzle her neck, even as her knees buckled and she sank to the ground. A moan of pain escaped her lips, and Sitka threw back his head.
"No!" she gasped, before he could howl. "No, be quiet Sitka, good boy. Shh now, shh."
Whining, Sitka tossed his head and nudged her, but as she covered her own mouth with her hand he laid down, and crossed his paws over his nose.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths now.
With fumbling hands, she unbuckled her belt, relieving a little of the pain, and tugged her leggings down, feeling frantically for the blood that she knew would –
Not be there?
Before she could so much as frown in confusion, another searing, stabbing pain coursed through her, and she groaned through clenched teeth. It may not just be the baby, this time – Dís was not young, her own life could hang in the balance –
And just like that, it was over.
For a long moment, she did not move. On her knees, legs out at odd angles behind her, breathing deep, shaking breaths.
And then she bowed her head, and let out a small sob of relief.
Her lie to Vinca had been a lie only to herself. She was alright. Her baby was still alive. In the emptiness left by the pain she felt the soft flutter of the child inside her. Her baby was still alive – still kicking.
She pressed a clammy hand over her mouth as Sitka whined, and for a moment, that was all that she could do. Then she took a deep breath, and took stock of where she was. On the ground in the woodland by the Misty Mountains, alone and vulnerable, with her trousers around her ankles and her own excrement behind her. How had it come to this?
No time, she thought wearily. No time to ponder that.
Her hands shook as she cleaned herself, redressed and slung her leg over Sitka's back. With a satisfied huff, he turned back the way they had come. Dís wished with all her heart that she could tell Bilbo without crushing him. He was hardly in a place to hear such news, but it was no longer simply the health of her baby at stake. It was her own health, and by extension the health of the company. But telling Bilbo, breaking off another piece of his battered heart…
Tears were masking her vision, and she was drowning. Drowning in relief, and in fear. Relief for her baby, fear for her baby, relief for herself, fear for her sons, for her little ones –
She did not notice that Sitka was growling until he stood still.
Dís blinked, twice, and her blood ran cold. A lone wolf stood in their way, larger than Sitka and poised to attack. She grabbed her sword, the sweat on her fingers making it slip, making her fumble and then –
"Ai!" barked a voice, and a flash of silver shot through the air, scraping the nose of the strange wolf, and embedding in the tree behind it. "Out of here, go!"
Whimpering and shaking its snout, the wolf turned and fled into the trees. Gasping, Dís turned to look at Vinca, who was speeding over on her little pony to retrieve her throwing knife.
"Are you alright?" the girl asked quickly, studying Dís even as she examined their surroundings. Her eyes moved so quickly from place to place that they reminded Dís of dragonflies.
A weary smile struggled to Dís' cheeks. "I am, now. My mind was not with me, and I am more grateful than ever that you were. Thank you, uzbadnâtha."
Pausing, Vinca smiled sadly and inclined her head. "The others are moving, but slowly, unless they have paused already."
"Then let us join them," sighed Dís, urging Sitka forward. Now that the strange wolf was gone, he was prancing about like a stud dog, his nose in their air and his gait ridiculously jaunty. It drew the small smile back to Dís, and helped it linger a while.
The group had not quite stopped, and it was easy for Vinca and Dís to return to the back without drawing any concern. But Vinca seemed to hesitate, lingering a little further behind the next rider than was usual. Dís recognised the girl's wish at once, and waited for her to talk.
"I cannot but feel guilty," said Vinca after a moment, glancing over her shoulder not at the woods, but back down the path that they had ridden. "I feel I should have gone with Bofin."
Dís gazed at girl who had been wrapped around her little finger for two decades. "And why do you feel that? You were more than welcome to, yet you protested when Bilbo suggested it?"
Vinca bowed her head for a moment, and then took a deep breath and looked ahead once more. "He must be so afraid. I cannot imagine the pain…" She shuddered.
"He is not alone," Dís reminded her gently. "He has Bifur to comfort him, and Ori and the elves to protect him. He did not ask you to go with him, remember that. And he is on his way to Rivendell – if Lord Elrond does not help him, I would eat my sword."
Despite her words, Dís' stomach lurched at the thought of the poor lad. Her legs ached at even the thought of such pain, and her heart trembled at the thought of such fear. But she was proud, too. Proud of the boy who begged his uncle to continue on, who insisted that Bofur help Bilbo, and try to bring Bróin home.
She did not know if Bofin really understood that their path could no longer take them to his brother, at least not directly. Not unless fate intervened on their behalf, but Dís knew that her kin had never been so lucky. Now, their hope was to aid Bróin and Frodo and the others by drawing away the attention of the enemy – to make their way home and help Thorin fortify Erebor.
Only Gandalf could help Frodo now – if they were lucky, he would steer them safe through Moria, and into that dreaded wood he spoke of with such reverence. Lothlórien. If Gandalf could aid Frodo there, Dís was sure that he would be able to keep their young ones safe.
Unless he decides that they are ready. They are not babies.
She ignored the voice in her head with all the strength she had, and turned her attention back to Pervinca.
"Aye," the girl murmured. "I suppose. Still, I am afraid for him."
"We are all afraid," Dís said, before she even knew that she had spoken aloud. Vinca raised her eyebrows a fraction, and Dís shook her head. "He is out of our care, and on his way to care much greater. Bofin will survive this, I am sure of it."
Sighing once more, Vinca turned her gaze on the woodland around them. It was sparse, yet felt rather dark and heavy – much like a lesser version of Mirkwood. "We are the first to venture here for a long time," she said, her gaze lowering to the ground. "But I do not know that we are alone."
The hairs on the back of Dís' neck stood up, and she looked around. "Orcs? More wolves?"
The young hobbit shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure. There are no signs of either, it is just a feeling, but we should take care. It is a feeling akin to being watched."
Dís shuddered lightly. Vinca had a rather uncanny knack for picking up on signs before she knew what they were, and the thought of being watched did not sit well with Dís. Especially not after…
She drew in a deep breath, brought back her concentration, and looked more closely at the young hobbit. Her fingers were flexing, releasing and then holding the reins in a pulsating, almost hypnotic movement. One that Dís could interpret.
"What is on your mind?"
"Why did you not return to Rivendell?"
"My sons are here," said Dís, and though the question seemed innocent, her heart picked up speed. "And my husband."
"Yet you are troubled," said Vinca softly, her eyes on her hands. "You are not yourself. You carry a secret, Dís, and you are distracted. I am afraid for you."
The baby gave a fluttering kick.
"I am sorry for scaring you," said Dís, massaging the back of her neck to avoid holding her stomach. "But I am alright. Weary, and grieving. That is all – there is nothing that would warrant my going back to Rivendell, when I can help my family here. You need not be afraid for me."
"Nothing?" Vinca's eyes moved slowly down to Dís' abdomen, and the back of Dís' neck prickled. The young hobbit held her gaze, and touched her own stomach, then met Dís' eyes with a look of such sympathy and concern that Dís' own eyes threatened to well with tears.
"Nothing that could come before the lives of my breathing kin," she said slowly, even as the baby gave a flutter, and her hand moved irresistibly to feel it. "Nothing that I want to handle outside of Erebor. Yet, nothing that is utterly lost."
"Nothing that Elrond could help with?"
"I will not go back, Pervinca."
Vinca bowed away from the suggestion of the return to Rivendell with a bob of her head. "You should tell Bilbo, Dís. Truly. He needs to know. He deserves to know."
Wondering when the shy little child she had doted on became the grave young woman before her, Dís shook her head. She wished to keep it from Bilbo, from her sons, from all who the news would hurt, but she knew now, more than ever, that her own life was in the balance, and that she was endangering the company with her silence.
Was it selfish, to press on? To stray further from the safety of Rivendell, to spur the help of the best healers in Middle-Earth? Was it selfish that she strove to reach her big brother, to reach her home, her home that had cost so much? If her heart was to be broken, she wanted to be home. Frankly, she wanted Thorin. If she carried the baby to term, it could yet be another nine or ten months, depending on how the terms of hobbit and dwarven pregnancies combined.
She could not fathom the thought of spending that time locked in Rivendell, away from all her kin and severed from her sons and her husband and brother, squandering time that could be used to help her people.
But, to help her people, and her kin, and herself, Dís knew that she must take the advice of one who was not even of age. "For the sake of safety, I will tell him tonight. I will tell them all tonight. If only so that they may know when…"
"If…" said Vinca gently, returning her gaze to the road ahead. "None of our fates are written in stone. Not even those of the smallest of us."
Dís could not help but smile a little, and lifted a finger to knock away the tear in her eye.
Really, she could not believe that Frodo had not asked Pervinca to join him. They were much alike, and though he would not want to take any young cousins with him, Dís could not fathom why he would allow Pippin to accompany him, and yet exclude the strongest tracker and most observant hobbit among them. She was incredibly attentive, Vinca, and her intuition was second to none.
Then, an odd thought took siege of her stomach, with an odd grip of anger, and disbelief.
"You knew, didn't you?"
Vinca glanced at her, looking a little confused. "Knew what?"
"That Frodo and your brother and sister were going to take that damned thing themselves. They asked you to join them, didn't they?"
For half a second, Vinca's eyes widened and her lips parted, her subtle sign of shock, but then a look of careful calm returned. She sighed. "Yes. They asked me to join them."
Dís tried not to raise her voice. "And you did not think to tell us?"
"I did not think they were wrong. I did not think they were going about things the right way, but I did not think them wrong. I told them that I would not sneak off in the night, but nor would I stop them. And I kept my word." Vinca kept her eyes on the road ahead, her hands now tight around the reins. Dís' eyes narrowed.
"There is more than that," she insisted, her anger growing hotter, and creeping into her voice. "You are keeping something from me, Pervinca."
"I wished – I wish – to return to Erebor. If there is to be a war, a siege, I should be there." There was a faint blush creeping up Vinca's neck to her cheeks, an odd and uncommon tell, and it brushed away Dís' confusion with one gentle stroke.
Vinca may not be a soldier, nor the first one Dís would think of in the context of a siege, but the brave young warrior conquering the guard's every trial most certainly would be.
"Ari. So, you are courting then." It was not a question, but Dís was careful not to let condemnation sink into her voice, either.
Vinca dropped her gaze to her fingers. "In, in a manner of speaking, I suppose that you might say that."
Dís understood the girl's trepidation. For an unattached guard in training, courting was strictly forbidden, under threat of expulsion from the guard. To admit that she and Ari were involved would get the young dwarf kicked from the guard, and dishonoured as a coward, or a rake, while Vinca herself would likely be seen as a whore, or a profiteer.
Most captains were willing to turn a blind eye if the soldier performed his duties and the lover stayed out of the way, but to admit formally to a relationship before Ari's graduation would mean trouble even the king would struggle to mend. That Vinca would say so much showed a huge amount of trust in Dís, and it melted most of the anger she felt towards the young girl.
"He is a brave fellow, and a good-hearted one," she said, locking eyes with Vinca. "Yet you should have told us about the plot."
Vinca shook her head a little, though her eyes were full of a sorrow as deep as any Dís had seen. "I am not sorry that I did not. If you were in our place, your love would back up your logic."
Despite herself, Dís understood the truth in Vinca's words, and she felt the last remnants of anger ebb away. "I understand, mizimith, but if we are to survive these times, we must trust to each other, and wherever possible refrain from keeping secrets."
Vinca nodded, and reached out her hand with a soft smile. Dís took it with a sad smile of her own, and for a while they rode together, their fingers entwined.
Without speaking, the women urged their steeds to go faster, to join with the rest of the group more completely. Few others were talking. Though they were, for the most part, unharmed, they were wearied, bloodied, and grief-stricken.
Through an unspoken default, Fíli led them in Gandalf's absence. From his hunched shoulders and lowered brow, Dís knew it was not a position that he much appreciated. Kíli was, of course, beside him, and riding Kanna while Luno recovered from the battle at the doors. Bragi and Ehren flanked them, and they rode closer than usual. Bragi had refused food and drink, and his head was hanging lower by the hour, but for now, he was holding on. Ehren had been silent – something she had never known happen before. Since the battle, she had not heard a single word fall from his lips.
And no matter how close together they rode, Dís could still see the gap between them. The space, where Soren should be.
Immediately behind Ehren and Bragi, rode Bilbo, and Dís felt a swell of pride every time she saw him. Though grief bent his back, he kept his head, and spoke calmly now and again, when the silence was too much to bear. Bofur, who normally took that role, was quieter than usual, and rode alongside Nori.
And then it was Dís, and Vinca.
Just nine of them. Dís and Bilbo, Fíli and Kíli, Ehren and Bragi, Bofur and Nori, and Vinca.
Only nine.
Nine companions, to mirror the nine riders.
She shuddered.
Well, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. I will see you on Monday for the last couple of re-writes, I expect, and I thank you profusely for reading up tot his point. Please do let me know what you think, and take care :D