Hey everyone. Before you get too angry let me explain myself. My job has had me down for 40 hours the last four weeks. I work at University Bookstore in textbooks so you can imagine how that process has been going since school just started. That's the other thing too. Along with the 40 hours I have been doing classes so as you can imagine I have been exhausted. My boss has also been taking my Saturdays regularly. My first exam is this week…and I haven't studied. Anyway these are my excuses please don't be too mad. I'll be dropping to 30 hours this week, but expect the chapters to be biweekly updates. I won't leave you hanging this long again unless it's an emergency! Promise!
Guest, Lanariel Greenleaf, GlassGazer, and angel897 – I'm sorry for the horrible delay, but here it is none the less and I hope you enjoy it!
ro781727 – Thank you for the correction in the last chapter. I will do my best to be better with the names, but I can always use a helping hand. So thank you again!
BlackHreat and Lady Arien of Rohan – You are absolutely right and we are coming down to that. I didn't realize we were jumping into the action this quickly, but you will receive all the revealing goodness when we reach Rivendell. Promise!
Michaela – I'm glad you liked the battle! I really wanted to show there is more to her skill set than being Rambo, but also that she recognized she has limits.
0x0UnderDog0x0 – I don't think I can let her get away with it for much longer the dwarves just aren't that silly. As to the nasty bit…gonna be a while before we get there.
QueefCream – Challenge accepted! ;) I read your intro to your latest chapter and after reminding me I haven't posted in a while really got my butt in gear. I'm sorry I haven't read or posted a review for the new chapter yet, but I figured I would reward myself with it when I finished this chapter. So that is where I'm going after this. Thanks for being such a great friend!
Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She's starting up her second part already and I'm sure it's gonna rock!
I am surprised to find that the cave is fairly small for a family of three trolls. I have seen two other caves and they had been much bigger than this one; and one of them had belonged to only a single troll. We are standing outside the opening, waiting for Thorin to finish making his choice of who would enter the dank hole in the ground. I lose myself staring into the large gaping hole in the earth, trying to "feel" out and see if there still may be something alive in the cave. Most rangers have a sense for danger naturally, and we develop it while we live in the camps. My senses for such things are extremely high since they were enhanced while training with Morinehtar. After a moment I determine that there is in fact nothing else waiting for us in the dark cavern. I feel better knowing that at least no one is still suffering. It is known that trolls could sometimes keep prey alive for days until they are eventually eaten or starve to death. Either way, the outlook would be grim for any survivor.
"Ranger!"
Thorin drags my attention away from the cave. From the tone I receive, I realize must have overlooked his calls while scanning the cave with my sharp senses. When I turn back to look at him I can easily see that the would-be King Under the Mountain is quite peeved. How long had he been calling for me?
"Nothing is alive in there aside from the insects. The hoard is safe enough," I explain. I stand to my full height and hold his gaze, unwilling to be intimidated by his moodiness.
"Sometimes there are traps in places such as these," counters Gandalf.
"That usually only occurs when dealing with trolls from the White Mountains. They have a higher intellect since they encounter humans on a regular basis. These trolls came from the Trollshaws, which means they rarely encounter humans and are exceptionally stupid. They wouldn't have been able to tie a single boot between the three of them," I clarify. I take the first step into the cave, confident in my ability to determine whether or not it is dangerous. The wizard and Thorin are right behind me when I enter, remaining overly cautious of our surroundings. There is an overwhelming stench radiating from the muggy earth, but I have smelled worse than this. I quickly revert to breathing through my mouth to avoid the worst of it.
"You seem to be well versed for someone so young," comments Gandalf. He sounds rather curious, but much like Morinehtar he rarely seems to be forward about his questions. However, I will give it to Gandalf that he is far gentler about such matters than Morinehtar.
"I've been to two other troll hoards with my camp. I'm hardly an expert, but compared to the other trolls I have seen…these weren't too bad," I say.
"Not too bad?! We were nearly eaten!" exclaims Bofur. He along with Gloin, Dwalin, and Nori, begin to hack and cough as they take in their first scent of a troll hoard. Even the Children of Mahal, tough as they are, are no match for the first scent of foulness that is a troll hoard.
"I lost five fellow rangers between both of my previous encounters." I turn to them and they all fall silent. "All things considered, I think today went exceptionally well."
Their eyes follow me and I can feel the empathy in their gaze, but we enter deeper into the cave where they discover gold everywhere. There are small chests of it piled near the entrance, but most of it litters the ground, forgotten. Trolls do like shiny things, but they don't hoard gold exclusively like dwarves. They are more like scavengers, willing to take whatever came their way. However, it would appear that a couple of the troll's victims had been very wealthy. The large crates near the walls lead me to believe a caravan travelling along the great East road must have suffered at their hands.
"Shame to leave it lying around," says Bofur as knocks around some gold coins with his foot. "Anyone could take it."
Despite the casual tone of the conversation it is obvious what he is talking about. All my life I have heard stories about the infamous greed that could at times possess dwarves. I find it rather peculiar that dwarves, who are resilient to all things, would have such an unhealthy affection for something like gold. It is cold and shiny thing that over time would fade; it is fleeting in the long lives of dwarves. Maybe that's their curse for waking too soon…
"Agreed," confirms Gloin. "Nori…get a shovel."
I feel my eyes roll in my head as I saunter into the cave unabashed. Deeper in there are several more chests overflowing with gold and silver, but there are other things that catch my attention. In the back and along a side wall, there is an open trunk on top of a crate of what smelt like old spices. From the condition of clothing they appear to be dresses that had been ripped into rags by the trolls. The ground is still littered with pieces of rich fabrics made from what once would have been lovely gowns. I notice that on the ground in front of the crate is a small knit hat. It is too small to be for anything else, but a baby. It had likely fallen out of a smaller compartment of the trunk when the trolls started yanking out the clothes. Just seeing the small and dirty thing lying on the musty cave floor is enough to make me nauseas. My mind can't stop wondering if the trolls ate the baby in front of the mother or if they let it starve for while as it cried out for its mother's arms. My heart seizes and I cannot take it anymore. I turn away to make my way back to the others, and more importantly some cleaner air. I have no names for these poor people, but a small prayer for them slides out between my clenched teeth. At least I can hope that they found peace.
I see Thorin setting down a torch to investigate a rack of weapons, particularly the swords. I leave the ghosts of the troll victims to invest myself in Thorin's intrigue. By throwing myself into something else, it provides me with some comfort and allows me to forget. On the other side of him is Gandalf who takes a sword that Thorin is holding out to him. He puts his staff in his shoulder so that he may use his hands to pull out the sword.
"These swords were not made by any troll," says Thorin as he looks over another web-covered sheathe. He glances up to see me watching over his shoulder and our gazes meet. He is watching me carefully from over his shoulder, but I split my attention between him and the weapon in his hands. I worry sometimes that Thorin knows what I'm thinking and it is difficult for me to keep eye contact with him. I do my best to ignore his smoldering gaze so his own returns to the examination of the sheathed blade.
"Nor by any smith among men," says the wizard as he looks over the metal of the blade. "These were made in Gondolin; By the High Elves of the First Age."
At the mention of the ancient elvish kingdom, Thorin immediately looks at the blade disgustingly; as if the blade itself is an elf. He moves to put the sword back without even looking at it when Gandalf cut him off mid-movement with a harsh tone, "You could not ask for a finer blade."
Thorin is prepared to argue his point when he removes the blade from the sheathe to critique it, but it is obvious from the look on his face that could only find perfection in the elvish steel. Even my untrained eye can see that the blade is well balanced and has barely dulled despite it being two thousand years old. His eyes rake over it as both a harsh critic of the elves and as an admirer of craftsmanship. Despite the little I know about dwarves, I could easily gather that dwarves are very proud of their crafts and took great pride in their work. I remember my surprise when Balin had told me that Thorin had worked among the smiths of men. My first thoughts of him in Bree had been that he is a blacksmith. So it makes sense that Thorin would have an eye for blades – even ones forged by elves.
"Here, lad."
I turn to see that Dwalin is handing me a sword. He must have pulled one from the other rack just to the left of Thorin. He hands it to me with the blade turned horizontal. Much like the other sheathes they are coated in cobwebs, but I've seen spiders big enough to eat a man so I'm not too worried. Holding it in my hand, the even distribution of weight leads me to believe it is either of dwarvish or elvish make. Humans can make balanced blades, but it is far more common amongst the other races who take more time and care with their work. Removing it from the sheathe I confirm that it is of elvish make. However, I notice that there is something strange…
"Is that rust?"
Elvish blades – particularly ones from the First Age – are legendary; and it is known that they do not rust. Dwalin takes up the torch that Thorin had laid down earlier and brings it closer to examine the metal with me. With the light I can see the blade better now. It isn't rust, but the blade is darker in patches with no real pattern; like blood that had never properly been washed off. I run my fingers across the metal and feel only smoothness; the rough feel of rust is nonexistent.
"I don' know what that is," says Dwalin. He glances over my shoulder, likely at Thorin, but then looks back at the blade. A heartbeat later he looks at me, "Do you want another one?"
"No," I say calmly. "This will do. Thank you very much, Dwalin." I think that this is his way of returning the favor for the mithril thread and don't want to insult his gesture of generosity. The dwarf nods his head in approval and turns back to the others digging a hole near the entrance of the cave. I wipe off the leather sheathe in hopes of removing some of the thick webs and dust. When I am finally satisfied with my progress, I attach it to my hip properly. When I turn around I find Thorin staring at me in the dim torchlight. For a moment I thought he had been only staring at the new sword at my hip, but when his eyes travel up to meet mine, I realize that he is looking me over.
The hard look in his eye is questioning and a tense silence passes between us. I know that Thorin is the closest of the company to figuring out my gender because he so actively aware of everything I do. Most of the others are still too enamored with the idea that I'm a male warrior from the clan of Imelkane to really notice, but he just seems to notice everything. We share another long gaze before I break away and make my way back to the mouth of the cave in hopes of getting some rest before moving on.
After the ranger broke his gaze, Thorin follows him with his eyes as he walks to the entrance of the cave and past the others. Watching Kalar leave put a sense of unease in Thorin's gut and it makes him eager to leave this place. Thorin only glances at the rest of the cave before calling the rest of the others away from the cave's treasures. Most of them quickly finish burying their treasure and follow after Thorin. The wizard does linger, but the leader of the company doesn't dwell on it. The wizard will certainly do as he pleases.
Upon emerging the company remains spread out along the ridge. The most noticeable are the three figures resting along the small boulder opposite the cave. Fili, Kili, and Kalar have taken a seat upon the ground and lean upon the cold stone. None could blame them as the night had been long and no one had slept. Thorin is even considering letting them stop early once they return the road in hopes of regaining lost sleep. However, his nephews and the ranger seem rather impatient and insist upon reclaiming it now. Thorin watches the ranger as his breathing slows and evens out, indicating his travel into a more peaceful slumber.
Thorin had thought that by removing the mask it would ease the tension he felt when he watches the ranger; that by somehow removing that strange object it would make the lad more human. It has succeeded. The lad has a fair face, a tan line forming where the mask rests on the top of his nose. The nose is narrow and makes a slight point downward towards his lips. The lips themselves are slightly cracked and dry from days on the road. The scar, if it can be called that, starts on the very top right of his mouth and drags downward. The wounded tissue surrounding the orifice is pale and the rest a light pink. It is nothing compared to some of the battle scars Thorin had seen among his kindred, but Thorin will not deny that it is rather intriguing in a way. There is something about the way skin puckers around the odd scar and how it curves when he smiles...
But now it also brings him more worries. It didn't bother Thorin so much that he hid the fact he could speak, though that is highly annoying, but the fact that he sounded, in short, like a girl. The voice is too high and the inflection suited the ranger's strange behavior, but it only left Thorin with more unease.
Thorin swiftly decides to council with Dwalin and Balin on the matter. They are his oldest friends and would certainly be the most help on matters such as this. As he passes them Thorin throws a look at Balin and once he starts following his king so too does Dwalin. They move just beyond the company so that they may speak without being overheard.
"What is it, Thorin?" asks Balin.
"It's about the ranger," answers Thorin plainly.
"What's wrong now, lad?" asks Balin. "He just saved our lives; we should be thankful."
"Surely you cannot be so blind, old friend. I have allowed many strange things in regards to the ranger pass at this point, but this…Did you hear him speak earlier? Does he not sound ill or much too like a woman? Do not tell me you have not heard it," drawls Thorin.
"Aye, I've heard it," confirms Dwalin.
"As have I," says Balin. "But he is the proper age for such changes."
"Changes?" asks Thorin confused.
"He's only thirty three years old, Thorin," says Balin gently. "We dwarves do not mature until our fortieth year. Prior to that we undergo many changes; it is part of becoming a man. One of the several changes includes our voice. I will remind you he sounded very much male when he cried out after defeating the troll in camp. He is merely maturing, Thorin."
"That maybe true for dwarves, but he is of men. That doesn't apply to him; not even our womenfolk have a voice that high," Thorin disagrees.
"He is of Imelkane, Thorin. That means that his lifespan will follow something closer to our own than that of a regular man," Balin counters.
"And human lads can shriek like harpies when they are gaining their true voice. I have seen it," adds Dwalin.
"However, it is true that I have mostly assumed. If you wish I may ask him for you or you may ask him yourself," offers Balin.
"No!" say Dwalin and Thorin simultaneously. The subject of coming into manhood is very personal among dwarves and is usually reserved for close family members. Fili and Kili had both gone to their uncle with their…adjustments. He can't imagine having that sort of intimate relationship with the ranger. It would only be more awkward seeing as Thorin is a King in Exile, it is simple not done.
However, Thorin also didn't want the ranger to think that he is on to him. If it were just coming of age it would explain much of the odd behavior, but Thorin simply didn't believe that to be the case. The last thing he needs is for the golden-eyed child to catch on to him knowing.
"Still, ain't he a little young for that?" asks Dwalin.
"An early bloomer, perhaps. As I recall, brother, you began such a journey at the age of 35. You and Kalar barely have two years between each other so it's not too different," chuckles Balin.
"At least I had some beard on my face by then," grumbles Dwalin.
This talk had been meant to make Thorin feel better about the situation with the ranger and have his friends make him believe his fears were unfounded. He so wanted to allow himself to give into the trust the ranger provided to the rest of the company, but as King he could not allow himself to trust so easily, especially after his experience with the elves. However, too many questions rest in the front of Thorin's mind. One such question came from a moment in which they preparing to leave the troll camp. In the few moments where the ranger had returned without Dwalin by his side, Thorin had been more worried about his friend. But then he had heard the boy giggle – giggle! It had slipped out while he had been watching Kili interact with the horse. Something is still not right…
A hand on his shoulder brings him back into the conversation. Dwalin looks over his friend's face, trying to reach the root of Thorin's worries. His friend had been beside him in every battle since Erebor fell and much like his brother had shared every confidence and doubt. He even confessed to him the doubt of Balin's judgment in regards to the ranger. Dwalin had been offended at first, but slowly came to the same conclusion as Thorin; that Balin did favor the ranger too much and too often. For a brief, while Thorin had been worried that the mithril that the ranger had bestowed upon the warrior might have driven him to think differently, but that is not the case. Thank the Valar for small mercies…
"I will keep an eye on 'im," assures Dwalin, "As promised."
"Both of ya are overreacting," laughs Balin. "Even if something were amiss what would it be? What do you think is wrong with the lad?"
"I…"
Thorin's eyes shift towards the ranger who is now resting on a rock between sister-sons. The boys had already asked once for his permission to give the ranger a bead and braid. They had hoped to tie the ranger to the Line of Durin for the rest of his days by serving the royal family. Of course the boys had seen this as a way to adopt the ranger as a brother without limiting his freedom by officially making him part of the royal family. However, they didn't realize Kalar would have to stay in the mountain and as a ranger he couldn't be forced to remain within the stone halls of Erebor. He serves all of Middle Earth and in order to divert that path it would have to be of his own free will. Putting a bead in his hair without telling him of its significance would be unfair.
However, with this new anxiety, Thorin finds himself thankful to deny them for more reason than one. All three lads have their eyes closed; in hopes of taking back some of their stolen sleep. The ranger, who had been leaning more on Kili, let his head fall down so that his nose fell in the thick of Kili's hair. Upon finding comfort in the new position the ranger nuzzled closer to Kili. For some the scene would be cute and to others it would be funny, but for Thorin it sends shivers down the back of his spine. Something about all of this isn't right. And the only option he was thinking of is too outlandish…
"I do not know," he says. "But I will find out."
There is a large crash in the forest and when Thorin looks back at the company to give orders he realizes they haven't even heard the noise. Except for the ranger – he met his eyes amongst the idling company members. His wide, golden eyes look in the direction of the noise as he shook Fili and Kili awake. Balin and Dwalin, who are close enough to also hear the noise, return the small group to collect their weapons.
"Something is coming," Thorin warns the group.
Everyone quickly takes up weapons and makes for a more defendable position. If they remained here whatever is coming would force them into the troll hoard and Thorin would rather not smell another one of those for the rest of his days.
"Stay together! Arm yourselves!"
The wizard's outbursts are hardly necessary as dwarves are quite capable of defending themselves. If anything he may be giving them away…Thorin takes the lead as he charges the disturbance head on in hopes of surprising this new foe. However, Gandalf calls them back.
"Wait!"
The company comes to a jerking halt as a man on a sleigh slides out of the forest underbrush. The man looks quite old and so does his warn, brown robe that comes with a hat that reminds Thorin of Bofur's. He also has a large smear of bird droppings along the side of his face, but apparently hasn't taken notice. He slides slowly past the dwarves who have managed to make the most distance, Thorin included. He shouts about thieves, fire, and murder before Gandalf approaches him.
"Radagast! Radagast the Brown!"
Gandalf sheathes his sword and so Thorin relaxes slightly. Gandalf approaches the odd man, but Thorin is distracted by a 'thump' nearby. Apparently the ranger tossed down his new sword in frustration and plants himself firmly at the base of another rock and shuts his eyes.
"Another fucking wizard," he grumbles pulling his cloak hood over his head. Thorin and the rest of the company watch him curiously, but Thorin snaps out of it when he realizes that they are currently quite vulnerable. Thorin turns back in time to see Gandalf pull a stick insect from the other's mouth and placing it in the other man's open hand. Thorin felt his own body shutter a little at the strangeness. From the looks of the rest of the company they could sympathize.
"Set up a perimeter," he barks. "Bifur, take up on those rocks. Gloin, keep your back to that boulder. Dwalin and I will keep watch along the ridge. All of you be on your guard."
The company immediately moves to do as their king commands without question, but the ranger doesn't move. Fili picks up his sword and lays it beside him, but doesn't move to wake him. Thorin has half a mind to, but when he sees the ranger breathing evenly he can't bring himself to do it. Kalar looks peaceful now, more than he had been some nights, and he has gone several days without sleeping as it is. Taking some pity on the poor boy Thorin allows him to continue sleeping. However, Thorin would never admit that it also made it much easier to watch him when he stayed in one place.
I have been trying to make myself as comfortable as possible on these rocks while there is a peaceful moment to be found. I know that if I do not catch up on my sleep I will become a liability for the group and I need to keep up my strength. I could only go on for so long before I would be in need of a reprieve.
For a brief while it works and I feel myself leaving the waking world. Then I sensed it, like the first flash of lightning during a storm. It's there one moment then gone, but as time goes on it becomes more frequent. It is something that keeps coming back and pulling at the back of my mind – not allowing for me to rest properly. Whatever it is it is coming straight for us…
I open my eyes to see the dwarves idling in the clearing with their weapons in hand while the two wizards stood away from the company talking in hushed tones. Maybe they could sense the dark force I am feeling…But why did there have to be another wizard? I really could do without anymore wizards in my life.
I see that my sword is beside me now and I'm thankful to whoever had picked it up. I think being tired made me act childishly, but I would apologize later. I reattach the sheath to my belt and approach the others. Everyone is tense so they barely spare me a glance.
The feeling that had been only flashes before now hung in the air like a thick cloud. I keep my own eye open as I make my way to Thorin, who is standing with Dwalin along a ridge. They are both whispering to one another, likely in Khuzdul, but I cannot hear. Thorin looks up at my approach and while he doesn't seem pleased his face also tightens in what I think is concern.
Something in the air sudden changes as though a chord had been struck and it makes my blood sing with a war cry. "We need to move. Now!" I say urgently. "Something much worse than a confused old man is making towards our position at a speed we cannot outrun unless we leave now."
"And what exactly is that?" asks Thorin, rather menacingly. I feel my teeth clench in frustration. Why does he have to question everything I say or do?
"I don't know," I huff with frustration. "But whatever it is it is fast and it will be here soon."
As if to answer me there is a howling in the distance; one that sounds as though something is being mangled. Thorin and the rest of the company tense in recognition of the noise. A shudder runs through me as I recall the long, cold nights with winds filled with those howls. I spent nearly a year listening to those calls and even now I'm still not used to it.
"Was that a wolf?" asks Bilbo. "Are there wolves out there?"
"If only…" I murmur.
"Wolves? No, that is not a wolf," says Bofur. The loud snapping of a twig behind him along with a low growl causes all to turn. A warg has snuck up along a back gulch and now crouches in preparation for attack. Before anyone can move the beast leaps at Dori without any provocation, but it doesn't get far as Thorin delivers an uppercut to the thing's head with his new elvish blade; effectively killing it. However, when I turn I see movement behind Thorin as another warg charges us from where Thorin and Dwalin had been keeping watch. So without any thought I draw my sword and use it like a large throwing knife. The blade enters the scavenger's open mouth and the momentum the warg has causes its body to slide gently to Thorin's feet. The beast surprises him as he hadn't seen the thing, but he looks up and gives me a nod when he does.
Because of this I didn't notice something hurtling at me as well until I check my peripheral. Another warg is heading straight for me, but I have very little time to react. My hand heads to my lower back wrapping around the stone hilt. There is a second where the temperature of the air drops in preparation of the magic I am about to use, but the warg is brought down before it can reach me by one of Kili's arrows. It stops the warg from moving forward, but it still lives and makes an attempt of reaching me until Dwalin brings his war hammer down on the thing's head. I retract my hand from the hilt, allowing for the atmosphere to return to normal. When Dwalin looks up to see if I'm alright, I give him a nod. Since what stopped it is the arrow, I turn to Kili for thanks as well.
"Thank you," I say.
He gives me a big smile and nods his head in my direction as I had done for Dwalin. I give him a small one in return, but my blood is still boiling too high for us to be safe yet.
"Warg scouts!" says Thorin as he removes his blade from the corpse. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind." He turns and emits a grunt as he removes my blade from the body of the other warg.
"Orc pack?"asks the burglar. Despite that I know he is unaware of the dangers in the world, I cannot help rolling my eyes at him. My impatience with the hobbit lets me know that I am well and truly tired. The wizards, who had been occupied until this point, have suddenly made a reappearance. Gandalf approaches Thorin hastily, while the other watches me. I do my best to ignore him, but it's hard when the brown wizard stares at me so intently.
"Who did you tell about your quest? Beyond your kin?" asks the wizard loudly.
"None, but the ranger," says Thorin. His eyes flicker over to me. Looking me up and down then finally meeting my eyes. I can see that he is working his way to find fault in me and somehow find an answer to this problem. However, my ire flares and I cast a glare his way.
"You dare insinuate that I-"
The brown wizard suddenly fills my field of vision and I jump nearly a foot in the air at the quick change in proximity. He sticks a long finger in my face as he examines me, making peculiar motions with his finger. As if pointing at me will help him figure something out…
"Kalar would never betray us. Least of all to orcs," says Balin confidently. The rest of the company are watching the brown wizard now, but Gandalf ignores the exchange entirely.
"Who?!" demands Gandalf.
"No one else. I swear. What in Durin's name is going on?" asks Thorin.
"You are being hunted," replies Gandalf.
With my blood thrumming in my ears I know I should be keeping a look out for more wargs, but at the moment I can't stop watching the brown wizard. He seems to be watching me with acute interest and it leaves me unsettled. If I thought Gandalf had made me uneasy in his unyielding analysis of my person, it is nothing compared to the scrutiny of Radagast. Maybe it's because he is doing nothing to hide it…The way he had snuck up on me is a far cry from the loud man that had tumbled out of the bushes before. I can't let him out of my sight. Even after already putting a little distance between us he tries to approach me again. However, this time Fili and Kili, who had seen my distress in the wizard's presence, place themselves in front of me to deter his approach.
"Gandalf, who is this?" Radagast asks.
"We have to get out of here," says Dwalin, ignoring the wizard's question entirely.
"There is magic…All around you…His magic…" whispers the wizard.
"We can't," cries Ori as he comes over the ridge. "We have no ponies – they bolted!" Praise be for Ori because his statement seems draw the visiting wizard's attention from me.
"I'll draw them off," he says suddenly. Without any confirmation he starts moving towards his sleigh. I let out a small sigh of relief at the loss of the wizard's attentions.
"These are Gundabad wargs. They will outrun you," Gandalf retorts. These wargs are made for chasing prey throughout different terrain, but more importantly, they are bred to kill. Watching them at night in the shadows of Gundabad has given me respect for the beasts and the raw power they held over life and death. It's the orcs that I really hate…
"These are Rhosgobel rabbits," says Radagast confidently. "I'd like to see them try." I don't think there are creatures faster than Gundabad wargs, but if those rabbits could uphold the wizard's boast it would certainly be a wonder to behold.
"Very well," says Gandalf. "The rest of you stay close and follow me."
The brown wizard takes off first to get a head start with the rest of us moving swiftly in another direction. I am stopped momentarily in our mad sprint by a large hand that appears on my arm. Thorin extends his other hand to me so that I may take my sword back from him. His expression in those few seconds is entirely unreadable to me.
"You will be in need of this," he says. "Kili and Dwalin will not always be there to help you. So do not throw it next time." Before I can even form a reply he is sprinting to catch up with the others. I sheathe my sword and continue much like Thorin to catch up to the others, but I can't help wondering what Thorin meant. Why would he say something like that?
Again sorry for the super late update. I hope you will all bear with me for a while longer. Life is just rocking my boat as it were. Anyway I read somewhere, likely Dwarf Scholar, that dwarves reach the age of maturity at 40, but aren't actual adults until they reach like 70 I think. Anyway I thought it would be really funny to have this scenario play out if for nothing than to torture Thorin a little bit.
Thank you for reading and sticking with me! I will be faster next time! I promise!