Hey there! Thanks for those who reviewed the last chapter, I really appreciate it! As ever, please forgive my typos here, and I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Seven: The Severed and the Summit

With the wind in her hair and blood in her eyes, Nelly hacked limbs from the filth that swarmed at her. Bróin's back was pressed against hers, and a ring of corpses lay at their feet, but every uruk-hai that fell was replaced by another. They had run for nearly an hour before the uruk-hai caught up with them, but she could not tell how long they had been fighting for. It felt like an age.

And Nelly was well aware that Bróin was bearing the brunt of the attack.

The uruk-hai pawed at her, and tried to grasp at her arms, but they thrust their weapons at Bróin, and there were twice as many crowded around him. So far, he had blocked every blow, but he was tiring, and he could not dodge a dozen swords forever. The intention was clear.

They wanted to capture Nelly. And they wanted to kill Bróin.

And both Nelly and Bróin were growing weary.

Soon, Bróin would slip, and when he did a blade could hit its mark. And that was a thought worse than being taken captive herself. Nelly's mind raced faster even than her feet, her eyes darting around as much as she dared in search of a way to escape.

"Because being brave's no use if your dead. Honour, valour – you can get those back later, and they ain't worth more than your life." As Nori's voice filled her mind, she wished fiercely that he was there. He would know what to do.

But she was capable of just as much as he was, and she saw her chance with a weak spot in the ring of uruk-hai. A place where there was only one uruk-hai, a place where that uruk already had a limp.

"Irmish!" she yelled, and felt Bróin tense behind her. Prepare. Then, she thrust her sword into the chest of the weak link, throwing her body weight onto the sword to throw it right and left, and break a gap in the ring of uruk-hai. "Ibsinat!"

Run.

Instantly Bróin whirled around, and together they leapt through the gap and sprang for the trees. Faster than they had run even in their dreams, Nelly and Bróin tore through the woods side by side, further from Frodo and from their family, and further north.

She knew that running was just as dangerous as fighting, that their chances of actually getting away were slim as a blade of grass, but the chance was there. They were small and fast, and the uruk-hai were heavily armoured. They were small, and they were fast.

They were fast enough – the distance between them and the uruk-hai began to grow, two yards, three, six, ten, and Nelly's heart soared at the thought of escape. If they could keep this up – wait –

"Bróin," she gasped, "can uruk-hai swim?"

His answer came at once through the panting of his breath. "Don't know, don't think so. River?"

She nodded, and began to veer towards the river. The Anduin was strong and fierce, but she preferred their chances keeping their heads above the water than keeping their necks from swords. With any luck, the Anduin could carry them away to safety.

Her legs burnt so fiercely that she knew her knees would soon buckle, but then she saw the glimmer of water through the trees. They broke free from the trees onto a shingle beach, and she drew in a gasp of relief.

And then Bróin let out a strangled cry, and he fell away from her side. Nelly skidded to a halt and looked back, and then the breath fled her lungs and her feet froze to the floor.

Bróin was on the ground, his terrified face raised towards her, his legs sprawled out behind him.

There was an arrow sticking up out of his back.

But it could not be deep, could not have hurt him, please, please don't let it have hurt him, and she she darted back. Bróin scrambled to his feet, but the uruk-hai reached him before she did, and they grasped his hair and threw him back down into the dirt.

The uruk-hai poured over him, flooding towards Nelly, but she only had eyes for Bróin. He twisted to stab the nearest uruk, but another swung its sword into the side of Bróin's arm and he howled.

"Bróin!" Nelly could barely hear her own voice as she struggled through the throng towards him. He was wearing mail, he had to be wearing mail, he could not be hurt, he could not be dying –

Laughing, the uruk that had struck Bróin stamped his foot down onto the young dwarf's back, pinning him to the ground with his heavy boot and kicking the arrow away. Bróin grunted, and his face contorted in pain.

Then, the uruk-hai above him raised its sword, and Bróin looked up. His eyes grew very wide, and he shrunk in on himself, and Nelly's knees gave way as she marked the trajectory of the blade. The uruk-hai meant to sever Bróin's head.

No –

"Nelly!" Bróin screamed, and the sword swung down.

Throwing herself forward, Nelly cast her own sword into its path. With all the strength she had, she thrust it up and away, as far from Bróin's throat as possible. Then she withdrew, and buried her blade in the uruk's gut until her hilt was pressed against the creature's flesh. The uruk's eyes widened, but she gave it no space to process its doom, and she drove it off Bróin with a roar.

"Get away!"

Bróin clambered to his feet, but the next thing Nelly knew there was a clawed fist in her hair dragging her backwards, and her arms were seized by uruk-hai, and her sword was ripped from her fingers.

"Get off me, get off!" she yelled, unsure if she was more angry or terrified.

With a laugh, the uruk-hai dragged her head back, and pressed a blade against her neck. She could feel the edge, serrated, against her skin, and the hand in her hair held her in place, and there was nowhere she could squirm to escape. She could only gasp as her hands were dragged together, and her wrists bound with a cord that bit deep into her skin.

"No!" Bróin roared, but his charge was cut short with a boot to the face, and once again he was cast onto the ground.

This time, the uruk-hai gave him no chance to rise.

They beat him with the hilts of their swords, and with their boots and their clubs, and they laughed when his sword slipped from his fingers, and his arms stopping clawing at them to cover his own head. dropped his sword, and tried helplessly to cover his head.

"Stop!" There was no noise Nelly could make that was not a scream, no word that would be complete except his name. "Bróin, Bróin! Leave him alone, please!"

"Please!" The uruk-hai jeered, and one stamped viciously on the spot where the arrow had hit. Bróin screamed and his head jerked up, face twisted in pain. One of the others took aim as though he was playing a game of football, and before Nelly could even gasp a warning the uruk struck. Its boot collided with Bróin's chin, and his head snapped up –

And his eyes rolled up into the back of his skull –

And his head fell to the ground –

And he did not move.

He did not make a noise.

And when the uruk-hai took aim and stomped a foot down onto Bróin's back, he did not scream.

But Nelly did.

"No! Bróin, Bróin! Wake up, Bróin, please! Please, Bróin, please, wake up, just wake up, Bróin, Bróin!"

"Bróin!" crooned an uruk, wresting her from the arms of its companion and throwing her over its shoulder. "Bróin, Bróin, oh no, poor Bróin! Ha! Who knew dwarf necks were so easy to break?"

A mangled shriek ripped from Nelly's throat and she pounded her elbows into the uruk-hai's back and drove her knees into its chest, but it did not so much as flinch. Then, it began to run. Raising her head, Nelly saw the others following it, treading over Bróin. His body jerked and twitched beneath their boots, but he showed no sign of life.

"Bróin! Help me, Bróin, help me!"

He did not even twitch, and Nelly sobbed. Because Bróin could not hear her – if he could, nothing would stop him from trying to help. Even if all he could do was raise his head, he would do it, if Nelly screamed Bróin would be there. He had always been there.

He was not moving.

Bróin…

The uruk-hai bombarded her with jeers and cackles, and sang her Bróin's name to her as they carried her away.

She was already out of earshot when Bróin's fingers tightened around a bloodied sword, and a handful of dead leaves.

It was deeply, bitterly cold. Preferable, perhaps, to the tremendous thunderstorm that had struck when they tried the High Path on the quest for Erebor, but unpleasant in itself. The memory of their first trip did little to comfort Bofur, Nori and the Bagginses – clouds lurked above, heavy and grey and full to the bursting, but whether they threatened rain or snow, Fíli could not tell. Neither would surprise him, but either would be most unwelcome.

Fíli had never much liked the cold. His brother had been born in the midst of a vicious winter, one so fierce that inside their mountain it was even colder than it was outside. There had been two fireplaces in their home at the time, one in their kitchen and one in their parents' room, and as such both Fíli and the baby were largely confined to those two rooms.

They had to keep the baby warm, his Adad had explained, because he was very, very small, and if he grew too cold, he would go to sleep forever.

And then winter had become even worse, when in its height a dozen orcs took his Kíli away from him.

For twenty-one years, winter had brought with it mourning, and the touch of the cold brought memories of screaming for his brother.

So while Fíli was not threatened by the cold any more than your average dwarf, he disliked it more than most. Especially when he was travelling with a hobbit, and with his pregnant mother. In the week since she had told them, she had shown little sign of slowing or tiring, but Fíli was beginning to see where her stomach was rounding out, and the rings beneath her eyes were growing darker. He was grateful for the wolves – not only did they allow the company to ride, and make good time, but they were a good source of heat, and little bothered by the mountains or the cold.

But the wolves were miserable, too. Denahi, in particular, was pining – for twenty-two had slept on the end of Merry's bed, or by his side when they were travelling, and in that time he had spent few nights away from the young hobbit. Now, Denahi walked with his head low, and his tail between his legs. At night, he whined, and howled softly, even when he fell into sleep.

They were well on their way up the High Pass, now.

Somewhere close, a wolf howled.

And it was not one of their own.

At once Fíli sat up straight, and put a hand on his sword's hilt as the wolves' heads perked up. Denahi let out a little howl of his own and lurched forward, faster than Fíli had ever seen him move. He darted past Bofur and Nori and leapt around the corner.

"Inhibî!" barked Nori, but the wolves did not seem ready to brace.

Instead, they lunged after Denahi, rounding the corner so fast that Fíli fell forward, wrapping his arms around Sitka's neck to avoid falling off. He heard Kíli cry out, and his heart seized.

"Kíli!"

"Hold on!" cried Bragi, but Fíli could not see where he was – he could not see where anyone was. The world was spinning around him, spinning past him in hues of grey and blue and black, and the wind was pushing past him, and whipping his hair against his face.

They rounded the corner, and then Bofur gave a yell from ahead – but it was not a cry of fear or pain – it was relief. The world came back into view as Sitka slowed, whining like a desperate pup and trying to squeeze past the wolves in front of him, but they were all yapping and whining as frantically as he was.

And a gruff voice that Fíli knew all too well gave a sigh that sounded all too weak. "Oh, thank Mahal, it's you!"

"Glóin?" Dís cried, her voice cracking, and Fíli's heart leapt. He sat up as straight as he could, craning his neck to try and peek over the heads of the others. He could not see anything, but he could hear Glóin's voice as clear as his own.

"Thank goodness – there's a cavern, about fifty feet back, much more space. This way!"

There was the sound of a pony's hooves falling on stone, and the wolves !" surged forward, until one howled above the others, and they cowed into single file.

"It's Lani," Kíli said, and for the first time in days he was grinning. "She's the only one that could get them that excited, and then that quiet."

And when they reached Glóin's promised cavern, Kíli was proved right. But Glóin looked awful – he was pale as death, and Kíli was sure that he had twice as many wrinkles as he had when they had last seen him. His clothes were torn, and his sleeve was stained with blood. Lani, too, seemed in a bad way – her fur was matted with blood, and when Glóin dismounted she immediately slumped to the ground. The other wolves nuzzled at her, and Dís wrapped her arms around Glóin so tightly that he grunted.

"Whoa, there, Dís, lass, watch the arm! Easy lass, easy." He leant back slowly, and pressed his forehead to hers. "Easy. Oh, it's good to see you."

"What happened to you?" she murmured, inspecting his face carefully. "You look awful."

"Ran into some goblins a few days ago. They couldn't get the best of us though, eh Lani?"

The wolf howled softly, and laid her head on her paws. The other wolves crowded around her, with Luno, Denahi and Koda giving way to allow the younger wolves to snuggle close to their mother.

Swallowing, Glóin looked around, focusing on each of their faces, and when he saw Fíli he swayed on the spot and closed his eyes. "Oh, thank you Mahal, thank you… You alright laddie?"

Fíli frowned, unsure of why he was more of a concern than the others, but he gave a shrug, and then a nod. "I am alright," he said. It was not altogether a lie, though he felt it understated his grief somewhat significantly.

Glóin grinned, and the skin of his lips cracked, and began to bleed. But then his smile faded, and he read their faces again. "But where are the others? Where's Gimli?"

"Shall we sit down?" blurted Bilbo, putting a hand on Glóin's arm, and a murmur of nods and assent rippled over the group.

They all sank to the ground. It did not escape Fíli's notice that Glóin did so with a wince. Though the cavern was wide enough to fit a group twice their size, it did not go too far back into the mountain. Fíli made a note to keep an eye on the ground, lest it begin to crack. If it began to rain, they would not gain much shelter – though the space was carved back into the mountain, its sides were exposed, and the wind swept over them as much as it had before.

"So," said Glóin when they were settled. "Where are they?"

An ugly silence swelled around them, and Fíli glanced around. No one seemed willing to speak, to break the news, but fear grew on Glóin's face, and it was not fair. Fíli opened his mouth, but his throat caught. To his relief, Bilbo stepped up as usual.

"The little ones are safe in the Shire," he said. "Bodin, and the twins, and Pearl and her parents are with them, and Esme and Saradoc."

Glóin nodded slowly. "Right… and the others?"

Taking Dís' hand, Bilbo nodded. "Well, Bofin's in Rivendell. He's-"

"Hurt," said Bofur bluntly. "Badly. But he's alive, and Glorfindel reckons he'll stay that way."

"Glorfindel?"

"Bifur and Ori are with him," added Bilbo.

Leaning forward with pained eyes, Glóin asked once more. "And?"

"Soren," Bragi said, and Ehren flinched. Fíli hung his head. "Soren is dead."

What little colour Glóin had drained from his cheeks, and he stared from Bragi to Fíli to Bilbo. "No? How?"

Bragi kept his chin raised, though tears caught in his beard. "There was a fight. We were outnumbered, and he…"

"Went far above the call of duty," Fíli murmured. Kíli leant against his side, resting his head on Fíli's shoulder.

The wind whispered into the silence, and after a long moment Glóin licked his lips, and spoke with more fear than Fíli had ever heard from him. "And my son?"

"Alive," said Kíli quickly. "As far as we know, Gimli is fine."

"Aye," said Ehren. His voice still had a slight croak to it. "Off to gallivant into Mordor with a bunch of adolescent hobbits, but other than that he's fine."

Glóin sagged with relief, but he jolted back upright as if he had been struck by lightning, and he stared at Ehren with bulging eyes. "What did you just say?"

Ehren opened his mouth, but Bragi put a hand on his arm and he closed it again.

"Gimli is on a mission. A quest," said Bilbo carefully. "One that was intended for me. I won't speak of it here, we do not know who else may be listening. But that is where Gimli is. Frodo is with him, and Sam and Merry and Pippin-"

"And Nelly and Bróin, I'd wager," Glóin said, his eyes narrowing.

Bilbo nodded. "And Gandalf and Aragorn are with them, and Boromir of Gondor. Oh, and Legolas."

Glóin's eyes opened so wide that Fíli half worry they would fall out. "Thranduil's son? Damn it all – I knew that elf would be a bad influence!"

Kíli and Ehren snickered slightly, and Fíli gave half a smile.

"But you, Glóin?" pressed Dis. "What happened to you? Do you need a healer?"

"I wouldn't say no to some cleansing ointment, or to an extra pair of eyes to give it a look over," he said, slowly peeling makeshift bandages from his arm. Nori stood up and walked over, their healing bag over his shoulder. "On second thoughts, I'll be fine," joked Glóin, but he held out his arm in any case. "You don't have a pipe, do you?"

As Nori worked, Bofur fished out a spare pipe and handed it to Glóin, who lit it before he began to speak.

"I am here to look for you. To warn you. The Darkness is looking for you."

A chill washed over Fíli, and he frowned. "The Darkness?"

Eyes lingering on Fíli, Glóin gave a slow nod, and shuddered. "Aye, lad. That was Eyja's word for it, and we know no better. It called itself a messenger from Mordor, it came to the doors thrice asking for you, and then five times more, ere it declared open war. We know not what it was-"

"We do," said Bilbo glumly. "We know."

Glóin raised his eyebrows. "Well, do you know that an army of orcs and filthy men from Mordor are marching on our Mountain as we speak?"

"No, though we feared it. Gandalf told us," said Dís. "Where are they?"

"They were but a hundred leagues south of Dale, ere I left the mountain. But we've been trying to send word to you since June. We received no reply from the ravens, nor the messengers we first sent. After Gandalf appeared, we sent Austen and Auden to reach you, with orders to send word whence they reached the Misty Mountains. They… they never did."

"Why?" asked Vinca slowly, with a fear that told Fíli she already guessed the answer. He stared at Glóin in disbelief, but already the older dwarf was shaking his head.

"The goblins." Glóin swallowed, fury burning beneath the tears that swam in his eyes. "Same bunch that attacked me, if I know aught about anything. I – I found their bodies. Gave them as proper a burial as I could, in the mountains."

Vinca gave a moan and hung her head, letting her hair fall over her face to shield herself from view. Dís' arm wove around her and drew her in close, and Fíli tried to wrap his head around the loss of two more friends. Not friends as close as Soren, nor even quite as dear to him as Jari, their brother, but still the loss of the twins was like a punch to his gut.

"No," said Ehren, his voice oddly high. "No, Glóin, that is a lie!"

"It isn't, lad, though for all the blood in me I wish it was," he said, and Ehren began to tear at his hair, until Bragi threw an arm around his shoulders and began to murmur quietly to him.

Fíli looked away, and was met at once by his own brother's tearful eyes. He took Kíli in his arms at once, sinking his fingers into his brother's hair and just lingering in the fact that he was alive.

"Does Jari know?" asked Bilbo, his voice hollow. "Aria, Ari, Dori? Do they know?"

Glóin shrugged. "I do not know. I sent word back with a naked fox lady."

The entire group froze, with Ehren stopping mid sniff, and Vinca raising her head to stare, bewildered, at Glóin.

"Look at her!" he scoffed, pointing to Lani. "Not me. Disappeared off into the mountain and came back with a fox – next thing I know there's a woman in front of me naked as a new born babe. One of Beorn's folk, with less decency than he has."

"Alright," said Dís slowly. "But why did you come, Glóin? If things were so dark, why would Thorin send you? Surely you are of more use to him?"

An odd look flickered over Glóin's face, a sort of thoughtfulness that was marred with concern. "We knew he was getting desperate when he started to talk about sending someone to Rivendell. He wanted to ask Elrond, about the Darkness. But his mind was made up by Eyja."

"Eyja?" Nori's eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. "And he says I have young advisors."

Glóin shook his head. "It was uncanny. She ran into the company room like some wee ghost, shouting about Thorin sending someone to Rivendell. She said that the Darkness had stabbed Fíli. I'm glad to see it's nonsense, of course-"

"What did she say?" interrupted Fíli, as Kíli's grip on his arm grew painfully tight, and the colour drained from his parents' faces.

Glóin stared at them, and his face crumpled. "Don't tell me that you were stabbed?"

"What did she say?" he repeated, and Glóin sighed.

"That you had been stabbed by the Darkness on – what did she call it, the dead hill – she said that the Darkness had stabbed you, and that the White Wizard was sending you to Rivendell, and that you couldn't breathe. She saw it, she said, in a dream. Never seen the poor lass so upset…"

"She got almost everything right," Fíli said slowly, and Glóin's jaw dropped. "But the White Wizard – that is Saruman's title, and he offered no help. He is nothing but a filthy traitor. It was Gandalf that saved me, Gandalf and Elrond. Thanks to them, I am as well as you see me now. I'd never want Eyja to see that, poor baby…"

"Did she say anything else?" asked Kíli. "Did she see anything else?"

"Not that I'm aware of." Glóin smirked slightly. "Though when Balin asked if she had ever had visions before, she looked as him as though he'd grown a third head and asked, 'doesn't everyone?' But she was up and around with a smile on the next day, when I left, if a little more worried than usual. I reckon she'll be just fine."

"And so will you be," said Nori decidedly, slapping Glóin's shoulder and earning him a clap around the ears. "I reckon. But let's keep an eye on that – I'm surprised its not as ugly as your face yet. If you're right to ride, we should get on. Get to the mountain as soon as we can. Get you and Dís to Óin."

"Dís?" Glóin's neck snapped around so quickly that Fíli winced on his behalf. "What's wrong with Dís?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said pointedly, her face turning rather pink. "But I am pregnant."

"Right. Well, in that case I have but one request before we leave."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "And what might that be?"

"Please, for the love of Durin, tell me that one of you has some ale? I need a drink – a big one."

So, do let me know what you think! What will happen? Who'll end up where? Will Glóin get his ale? I'd love to know what you're thinking. If you have the time and the inclination, please do leave a review for me, I'd really appreciate it! Until next Monday, thanks for reading, and take care :)