Yo! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter – please forgive any typos/mistakes that I make. As a note, I've had issues with the formatting of the song in this chapter, solely once uploading it to FF, so I've put a '/' between the verses to make it clear where they are :D
Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Dance of Winds and Willows
The fire burnt brighter than usual in the black of the night, sending sparks souring into the space where stars should be. But there were no stars. Only blankets of thick, black, cloud, smothering the faraway light. Winter's chill was biting down against them, with an uncommonly sharp wind, but the fire was warm, and a stag was turning on the spit above it. Enough to feed them.
Fili prayed that it had not been a mistake, to advocate for the flames. Though it may draw some attention, they were still somewhat sheltered among the trees, and the fire would make a good defence should wolves or orcs attack. Or Black Riders, if that hell was not fully behind them. Moreover, after the hell of the last few days, some hot food would do them a world of good.
Especially Bragi. Fili had not been able to tempt him into more than a mouthful of bread since Moria, and he knew that the smell of roast venison would be a little harder to resist. Bragi needed to eat. He was as pale as his hair, save for the dark rings beneath his glazed eyes.
A lonely little ghost – those were the words Kíli had used when they had first spied Bragi in the marketplace as children. That was what he looked like now. An anguished, lonely little ghost. If they did not get him to eat soon, the weight would begin to fall away. Hollow his cheeks. Make him look more dead than alive.
Because Soren –
The very name sent a spasm of pain through Fíli's heart. He knew why Bragi was not eating. His own grief was gnawing at his soul, but he knew that it was but a fraction of what Bragi must feel. After all, Fíli had known the death of a brother. He had felt that grief, felt the world wrenched from beneath him and agony encompass his very soul. He knew that the anguish Bragi felt would be crippling, and he knew that he would carry the weight of it for the rest of his life. For it never faded, that burden. You just grew stronger, until you could carry it with relative ease.
Or your brother is delivered back to your side, against all odds.
He shuddered, adjusting his cloak around his shoulders to try and disguise it as a shiver of cold. There would be no miracle reunion for Bragi and Soren. He had seen Soren die, seen Soren dead. He was buried. Gone. They were never going to see him again.
Tears stung at Fili's eyes, and he fought with his grief for the ability to breathe. It was beginning to sink in now.
They were never going to see Soren again.
It was not fair. He was so young – younger even than Kíli. Soren was still five years from turning one hundred.
He would never even come of age.
Fili's tears escaped his eyes and began to trail down his cheeks, and he stared at the fire, allowing the smoke to sting him too. His head dropped, slowly, onto his hands, and he drove his elbows into his knees. It was not fair.
Not fair, not fair, not fair.
And he was the one that Soren had died to protect. He knew it, as strongly as he knew his own name. Frodo had cried out to him, Soren had knocked him out of the way.
Soren had not got up.
And Fíli had.
An arm wove around his back, and Fíli looked up, a little surprised to see that it was Bragi beside him. Meeting his eyes, Bragi's mouth curled up into a weak shadow of a smile. Without words, Fíli shifted so that he could return the embrace. In moments, Kíli sank down beside them, snuggling into Fíli's side, and holding Bragi's hand. Ehren sat on the other side of Bragi, resting his head on the albino's shoulder. He was just as pale as Bragi, and come to think of it, Fili had not seen Ehren eat much either. But for Ehren, there was something more disturbing, more obvious.
Fíli had not heard Ehren speak since Moria. Not one word.
As if feeling Fíli's eyes on him, Ehren looked over and twisted his lips into a half-smile. Closed his eyes. Fíli sighed, and let his head rest against Bragi's.
They were a bundle, a bundle of grief and weariness. A bundle with just a little hope left. Instinct prompted Fíli to say something, but there was not much to say. The night before last, Soren had been alive. In their bundle with them. Now he was gone.
Gone.
It was not fair.
It was Bilbo who took charge of the cooking, and Vinca who placed strips of hot meat into bowls and pressed them into their cold hands. Of the whole, battered group, the two hobbits doing the best at following their usual patterns. Once, perhaps, Fíli would have mistaken it for apathy, but he had lived among Shire Folk long enough to know how their culture dealt with crises.
They hid their grief with soft, casual words, and spoke of horrors they had faced the way that others would speak of a stroll in the park. They carried on, meticulously, in whatever routine they could find, and if they did not have one they would make one. They would keep very calm, and carry on with life until enough time passed for them to shape their grief into speech.
They were good folk to have around in a crisis.
It was not that the others were useless, but Bilbo shook his head with a faint smile when Dís offered to help with cooking, and Vinca eased Bofur's bedroll from his hands to set it out herself.
Sitting so still before the fire, Bofur could have been mistaken for a sleeper, but there was a tightness to his face that betrayed his fear. Nori sat beside him, so close that their shoulders were pressed together, but neither dwarf spoke. They just stared into the fire, hardly moving at all. Dís, too, seem transfixed by the flames, but her expression was one of intense concentration.
It was only when Vinca had coaxed Bragi into finishing his dinner, and confirmed that everyone else bore empty bowls, that any form of conversation began.
And it was started by Dís.
"There is something that I must confess," she said quietly, a strange hesitance in her tone. She sounded quiet, vulnerable, almost like a child, and it churned Fili's stomach. He shot a worried glance at Kíli, received one in turn, and then together they looked back to their mother.
Bilbo frowned, his head tilting slightly to the side, and he spoke with a practised calm. "Oh? What is it?"
Dís looked away from him, pursing her lips for a moment before she spoke again. Vinca stood, smooth and graceful as a shadow, and walked to Dís' side, where she sat down once more. She took the dwarf's hand, and they shared a glance. Then Vinca looked down at the ground, and Dis spoke. "I – I have held my tongue until now because I thought it best. You must understand – there is so much to fear and so much to do, and I could not add another burden to you, to any of you. Not when it's so likely to end… to end in…" Her voice broke and her gaze fluttered down, and Fíli's heart skipped a beat. Vinca squeezed Dís' hand, and Sitka nuzzled at her neck. Dís sighed, winding her fingers through Vinca's, and running her other hand through Sitka's soft fur. "I am afraid, though, that it is now at a stage where it will end, and bring danger down upon you all when it does, and that I…"
"Amad, what are you talking about?" asked Kíli desperately, looking from Bilbo to their mother and back again, but Bilbo was as still as stone. His mouth had fallen open slightly, and horror was growing in his eyes with every second that passed.
Fíli detangled himself from Kíli and Bragi and leant forward – this was not some small secret. Something was very, very wrong.
"I am also afraid," Dís whispered, her eyes trained on the dirt beneath her, "that Frodo… that it may have been a factor in his taking the ring."
"What?" cried Bilbo, his voice hoarse. His fingers were clenching and unclenching, and Fíli noticed Bofur put a hand on the hobbit's shoulder.
"He knew," mourned Dís. "He guessed, he asked, I had to tell him. He guessed back at Bag End, he noticed – I made him swear not to speak of it, but he has been worried ever since, and he… Well."
"Amad," Fíli insisted, the pressure far too intense for him to hold his tongue. "What is it? Tell us!"
She flinched as if he had screamed at her, and closed her eyes. That scared him more than anything – he had never, ever seen his mother look so vulnerable, so afraid. She always hid such things from him, no matter how old he got.
"Tell them, Dís," Vinca said softly. Fili looked at her sharply. Why would Vinca know before him, before Dís' first born son? He thought he was –
"I am with child."
Fíli felt as though his limbs had frozen, and then melted far too quickly. All his strength seemed to have flowed away, and he slumped where he was sitting. He was too stunned to feel anything at all.
Bilbo, on the other hand, stared at her, with a face of shock and fear and fury. "You're – Why are you here?" Before she could speak, he sprang to his feet, tugging at his hair. "Why aren't you in Rivendell, why on earth did you come with us? By the Valar, Dís, what were you thinking?"
"Frodo," she choked, but from her wince Fíli knew that part of her agreed with Bilbo. "I had to put Frodo above a life that may never be-"
"It was a long shot, finding Frodo, and you knew it!" Bilbo's voice rose to a yell, and he turned as red as his coat. "And don't you, don't you say it will never be! Don't you say that, Dís. Don't say that."
"Keep your voice down!" Nori hissed, and Bilbo turned on him. Before the hobbit could speak, Nori spoke again. "Unless you want all the goblins in the damn mountains to find us?"
"I'll keep quiet," Bilbo growled viciously, "but you keep out of it!"
Nori held up his hands and shrugged, and Vinca frowned heavily. "Uncle Bilbo-"
"It's true, though," Dis interrupted, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Fíli could only remember one occasion where she looked so openly distressed – losing Kíli to the goblins. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he seized his brother's hand. "Bilbo, none have survived."
Fíli glanced at his brother, but Kíli was frozen. His eyes were round as the moon, and his face as pale as Bragi's, but he was barely moving to breathe.
"No one expected Kíli to survive!" retorted Bilbo. "No one, not you or Thorin or even Daisy Took! But he did! That's it – we're turning around."
"What?" Dís gasped, and Vinca looked up sharply.
Fíli found himself looking from her to Bilbo as if they were playing a game of tennis.
"No, yes, that's exactly what we're going to do," said Bilbo, nodding almost frantically. "So help me, we are going back to Rivendell!"
"We cannot go back!" she cried.
"Oh yes we can! Elrond's the best healer in Middle Earth, and there's a chance there, Dís, a chance for the baby to survive-"
"Yet we'd forsake our country and our people in the process! You knew when you married into this family, you knew that we must put the needs of our people above the needs of ourselves-"
"We're going back to Rivendell!"
"No, we are not!"
Kíli was beginning to recoil, cringing ever so slightly into Fíli's side. Fíli wished that the ground would swallow him whole. Never, in his whole life, had he seen his parents argue like this. With anguished snarls and red, pained faces – he could not stand it.
"Stop it!" Kíli yelped suddenly, cutting over Bilbo's reply. "Stop it, both of you!"
They paused, each staring at Kíli, each breathing heavily.
"Just – just stop. Please. I can't take it."
Bilbo opened his mouth furiously as if to roar, but Kíli flinched and the sound died on the hobbit's lips. Instead of yells, tears broke free, and he pointed a shaking hand at Dís. "She," he whispered. "She..."
"I know," Kíli begged. "I know, but let her speak, please! And Amad-" he turned his eyes to his mother, his hurt so obvious and deep that Fíli had to look away. "You should have told us."
"I thought I was doing what was right," she whispered brokenly.
Bilbo gave a shaky sob, placing a hand over his mouth, and Bofur stood up, enveloping him in a hug. arm around the hobbit. Bilbo clung to Bofur as though he were drowning, and stared over the dwarf's shoulder at his wife. "You… you should have known better.
Dís hung her head, a tear travelling down the crook of her nose. "There was enough grief to go around with."
"Which makes any hope more important," Bilbo whispered fiercely. "Yes, our luck has never held, yes, perhaps it never will, but Dís – this could be the child that makes it. If we just went back to Rivendell, Elrond could help, I know it."
"He's right, Amad," said Fíli quietly. "If there is a chance, we should take it."
She met his eyes with such sorrow and guilt that he almost cried himself. "I cannot, dushtêl. We cannot go back. The way is ahead, you know it, I know it. So do you, Bilbo. We must press on…" she closed her eyes. "We must get to Erebor. And I will not send my boys on alone."
Bragi cleared his throat and began to speak, but his hollow voice was cut off before he could finish the word "I".
"You are one of my boys, Bragi," she replied sharply, and a flicker of a smile twitched at Bragi's lips.
"I can't go back to Rivendell," sighed Bofur. "'s much as I want to. Bofin'd never…never talk to me again."
"And I want to go home," Dís insisted, tears spilling down her cheeks more freely than ever before. "Whatever happens with – with the baby – I want to go home. I want to be with my brother, with my friends – I want… I just want to go home."
And then she began to sob.
Fíli stood up faster than he thought himself capable of and hurried across to sit beside his mother, wrapping his arms around her. She pressed her face against his shoulder, and he swallowed, holding her as close as he could. She was shaking.
Fíli glanced at Vinca, and knew at once why she knew and he did not. If it was something Frodo noticed, there was no way their most observant hobbit would have missed it – especially given that she, too, was a woman. But why had he not seen? Why had Frodo noticed before Fili?
A glance at Bilbo told him that the hobbit was wondering the same thing. Bilbo's face was no longer red, but pale as death, and he was trembling like a kitten in the snow. It looked as though his knees were swaying beneath him.
"Right," Bilbo choked, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Right. We go on then. But Dís, the moment anything changes…"
"I will tell you," she swore, pushing out of Fíli's embrace, but grasping his arms tightly. "I know the risks, and I promise to do what I can to minimise them. That is why I'm telling you now, I do not want to endanger you. If the time comes, if everything happens at once, you must leave me-"
"No," Bilbo said, going even paler, though anything else he had to say was interrupted by the others.
"Don't be a fool!" said Vinca sharply..
"We wouldn't," Bragi promised.
"Couldn't," Fíli said, wincing at the thought. "We couldn't!"
"Not going to happen!" Kíli shook his head fiercely.
"But we will stick together," Bilbo said, breathing deeply. "We will stick together, and we will all pull through. Alright? That goes for all of you. No more secrets. Even for the 'greater good.' They've got us nowhere so far."
A murmur of assent ran through them, and Dís nodded. As a hush fell, Fíli found that he was able to breathe again, and figure out what on earth he thought of all this. A little anger – or perhaps, more accurately irritation – rose at the thought of his mother putting the child at risk, putting herself at risk, when she could have stayed, or even returned to Rivendell, but he knew that he would probably have done the same, if it was him. He could see in her eyes that she thought this baby already carried a death sentence, but Fíli was not convinced. He could not help but feel a little flicker of hope. Perhaps, maybe, this time the child would make it.
"It's alright, Amad," he murmured. "We'll look after you now. Look after you both."
"We'll get you home," Kíli promised, rising on legs that swayed and stumbling over to first kiss his mother's cheek, and then swallow Bilbo into a tight hug, nudging Bofur out of the way. Then, he took Bilbo's hand and gently guided him back towards Dís. Vinca stood, offering space beside Dís to Bilbo, who sat down. Kíli sank down beside Bilbo, and Vinca beside him.
Shaking his head, Bilbo took Dís' hand, and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she whispered.
"But I think you've been an idiot," Bilbo said bluntly. "Especially considering how smart you normally are. Bragi, lad, pass me my pipe, would you? It's in the pack beside you."
With that, any argument was over. They all seemed to know that they would be continuing on with their plan, that they would be taking extra care and leaving all disputes in the past. Nothing to the point was said. No one brought up returning to Rivendell again.
"Well," croaked Ehren, and Fíli turned quickly. His friend's voice was hoarse and strained from disuse, and he was still as pale as ever, but the ghost of a smile was tugging at his lips. "I reckon I'll have to change the definition of a barrel of frogs in a tearoom."
Kíli let out a huff of laughter, and Fíli's cheeks creaked up into a smile. Even Bragi's eyes twinkled slightly. After bringing Bilbo his pipe, Bragi sat between Kíli and Bofur, and Ehren followed, turning their group into a little circle, unbroken. Fíli, beside Dís, beside Bilbo, beside Kíli, beside Vinca, beside Bofur, beside Nori, beside Ehren, beside Bragi. It was an unbroken circle, yet an incomplete one. There were so many who should be there, should be with them, now that times were so dark. But they were only nine.
"A lass," Bofur said suddenly, breaking the silence with a slight smile. "It's about time you had a little lass. Another lad'll be too much trouble, if the ones you've already had are anything to go by."
"Not if she's anything like Nelly," Fíli said over Kíli's protestations.
"I am the absolute paradigm of innocence and obedience-"
"Oh, that's true." Bofur nodded at Fíli, ignoring Kíli altogether. "And she'd be spoilt rotten to boot, all those aunties and uncles."
"-never done anything wrong in my life, I have nothing to do with Amad's grey hair-"
"I bet she'll have the best curls any dwarf has ever seen," said Bragi, smiling faintly. "Better than yours, Ehren – you'll be so jealous."
"-truly, just the best child anyone could ask for-"
"S'pose I could relinquish my crown to a real dwobbit," Ehren said.
"-don't know what you're talking about-"
By now, smiles had been coaxed to the faces of both Fíli's parents. Weary, worried smiles, but smiles nonetheless.
"I'd like a little sister," Fíli commented, his tiny spark of hope growing stronger. Logically, he thought it should be the opposite – his mother was now in more danger than ever, and she was not young. The last four babies had not survived. But something deep in his soul insisted that this baby would be different. That hope was still alive – that this baby was still alive.
"-really, it's just insulting that you would even consider me as a troublemaker-"
"Alright, Kíli, that's enough now," Bilbo murmured, though his smile lingered on his lips.
Kíli smiled back sheepishly, and then shifted to rest his head on Bilbo's shoulder. He met Fíli's eyes, and nodded slowly. "It's going to be alright in the end, you know. If it's not alright, it's not the end. That's what Adalgrim says."
Bragi snorted, a bitter grief lacing his tone. "By that logic we're only at the beginning, or at best the start of the middle. I'm not sure I want to see it through to the end."
No one had any reply for that. Koda loped away from the wolves' share of the deer, howling softly as he placed his head in Bragi's lap. Tears shimmered in Bragi's eyes and he bowed low, burying his face in the wolf's fur.
After a long moment, Kíli began to hum. It was not a tune Fíli knew, though it was familiar. Something he had heard once in passing, perhaps. The melody was soft, but hopeful, and when he heard it Bragi seemed to relax. Assured by his friend's response, Kíli began to sing.
"And the young lass said;
'Come dance with me,
Come dance through the winds and the willows!
Come dance with me,
Dance and be free,
O'er the fading hills and old groves.'
/
And the young lad said;
'Not yet my lass,
Not yet, while blood runs through me.
I can't yet lass,
Though I want to, love,
Dance with you where'er your heart leads'
/
So the young lass said;
'I'll wait for thee,
I'll wait for thee in the moonlight.
I'll stay my feet
'til I can dance with thee,
Be the wait an age or fortnight.'
/
But the young lad cried;
'Don't wait my love!
Don't wait for me to feel joy.
You dance my lass,
Dance on my love,
For your joy could never pain me.
/
I miss you lass
With every bone in me,
I ache for you to fly home.
But dance my lass
And I will laugh my love,
Til I can dance through winds and willows.'
/
And the young lass said;
'I'll dance for thee,
I'll dance through the times that part us.
You laugh my lad,
Live long my love,
We will meet when old age takes thee.'
/
So the young lad laughed,
Lived long in peace,
In the rolling hills and green groves.
And the lass danced on
To their own sweet song,
Til he came at last through the willows.
/
E'er now they dance
Through the leas and hills,
And dance and laugh together.
Lad and lass laugh on
And to their own sweet song
Dance for'er, through winds and willows."
Throughout the song, Bragi had slowly rose, staring at Kíli and drinking in every word. As Kíli's voice faded into the sound of the crackling flames, Bragi sniffed, and snuggled into Fíli's side.
"Does 'dance through the willows' mean die, then?" he murmured.
Kíli nodded, rubbing at his eyes. "Die, or be dead. It comes from Old Shire talk. No one really knows why, or where it came from.
Bragi sniffed, and dragged his sleeve across his eyes. "It's… better than… less… It's a good song, Kíli."
Swallowing, Kíli nodded, and Fíli noticed that his brother's eyes were bloodshot, and looked very heavy.
"We should get some sleep," Fíli sighed, hoping to prompt his brother into bed. "I-"
"I'll take first watch," said Bilbo, looking at Dís, and she nodded slightly.
Right. Well. Fíli had no desire to begrudge his parents some privacy, so he bade them both goodnight and shuffled into bed between Kíli and Bragi. With a sigh, Fíli let his eyes close.
A baby.
Of all the times that Amad could have fallen pregnant again, this must be one of the worst. But how far along was she, and why had he not noticed? Why had Frodo and Vinca realised before Fíli had? And did this child really have a hope to survive?
Fear was creeping up Fíli's spine now, coiling around him like a giant serpent. It was not just the baby at stake. What if this time his mother was killed? He closed his eyes tighter. He could not think like that. Could not dwell on 'if's and 'maybe's – not when so much was at stake.
If only he could persuade her to return to Rivendell – but he knew it would be impossible. His mother's mind was set, and she was going to Erebor, with only a hope and a prayer as maternity care. Fíli and Kíli would not make very good midwives – of that, he was sure.
Soren would be even worse. He did not like anything 'squishy', in his own words. Worms, guts, umbilical cords – all held an equal horror for him.
Fíli's body jerked with a silent sob. Soren would have been worse.
Would have.
Beside him, Kíli shuffled and squirmed, and then he was cuddled around Fíli and his face was pressed into his brother's chest. Fíli held him close, and thanked the Valar that he was still here. That death had not taken his Kíli, too.
Soon, his tears were replaced by soft snores, and only Bilbo and Dís remained awake. For a long while, they watched the fire and did not speak.
"I'm sorry for shouting," Bilbo said finally.
"I'm sorry that I did not tell you," she replied, her voice breaking. "Truly, Bilbo, I did not mean to endanger anyone, but, I – I could not bring myself to hurt you more than you were already hurting."
"You could have told me sooner," sighed Bilbo. His voice was void of accusation, of anger. It was simply weary, and tinted with grief. "Before any of this happened, before Gandalf knocked on the door."
"But it was early, and the odds were so low, even for a normal pregnancy. I wanted to wait until I was sure, until I thought the child had a chance…"
"They have a chance now." Bilbo snapped a twig and threw half into the fire. "You know they do, but you are scared."
"Of course I am scared," she whispered back, seizing his hand. "Bilbo, I do not know how much more grief we can take."
"As much as we are dealt," replied Bilbo, twisting to put his other hand on her cheek. He spoke with a passion that rivalled the fire, a fierce, searing reverence that set every word alight. "As much pain and hell as we are sent, as long as there is breath in us and family around us. If the world is cruel enough to take all but one of our kin from us we will endure it, and we will hold for what family we have left. We will take it for our boys – for our girls – be they children or siblings or cousins. We may loathe it and curse it and writhe in anguish every night we have left, but we will take it, and endure it, until the very end. Until you or I stand alone of our family. I pray we will not have to take more grief, but if we do, we will. We will hold, until Sauron himself rips us away, too."
Her shoulders rising and falling with her quick, shallow breaths, Dís nodded. Tears fell into her lap. "Until we dance through the willows," she whispered.
Bilbo nodded, sobbing and smiling at once. "Until we dance through the willows."
"I love you, Bilbo. More than any poem or song or simple words of mine will ever be able to say."
"I love you, too." Bilbo gave a watery laugh. "That's what got us into this mess."
A hysterical giggle burst from her lips, but she clamped a hand over her mouth and glanced quickly at the sleepers around her. None of them stirred, and she relaxed.
"I understand why you didn't tell me," Bilbo said slowly. "I think… I think I would do the same. But please, Dís, please… promise me you won't keep something like that from me again."
"Never," she swore, almost before he finished speaking. She leant forward and kissed him, fierce and desperate and afraid all at once, and he kissed her back, and wound his fingers through her hair. Then she rested her head on his shoulder. "Tell me," she murmured. "The song Kíli sang – is it one of yours?"
"No, no," Bilbo replied. He began to draw circles in her shoulder with his thumb. "No, that's a tune as old as the hills, an old folk song from Tuckborough, I believe."
"I like it," she sighed, her eyes closing slightly. "What's it called?"
"The Dance of Winds and Willows. Go to sleep, Amrâlimê, I can watch alone. You look like you need a decent night…" He traced the circles beneath her eyes with his finger and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Sing it for me," she said. "Sing it for me, and then I will sleep."
Smiling just a little, Bilbo took a deep breath, and began the song again. It was much quieter and a little slower than Kíli's performance, but it warmed their hearts all the more for it.
And as her mother drifted off to sleep and her father sang of willow trees, an unborn child gave a kick, and began to suck her thumb.
So – we are officially caught up! You were also going to get a snippet of Bofin in Rivendell tonight but I was knocked out by the flu for two days so all my work, including Dark Side, was hit out of whack. So, while that scene was technically included in The Last, The Lost, The Least, as it does not count as a full chapter, we're into the unknown!
Thank you so much for reading, and take care until I see you next!