Part 1: Chapter 25: And Like a Tide, It Roared and Rolled
"NOOOOO!"
Sona was gone from sight before Thorin screamed –– no end to the cry ripping from his chest –– "E'zê––! Nooooo! NOOOOO!"
No one could–––
No. no. His mind refused, but he knew it––
––she could not yet live, not after––
But he would not stay, he would not, and his fingers released and he flexed to jump after when sharp fingers dug in below his armpits, thumbs grasped deep into his shoulders, and he was heaved and hauled and wrestled back upon the ledge. By Dwalin.
Thorin slammed his fist into his face, achieving release.
Dwalin reeled back and Thorin, free for a second, took a leap to the edge only to be grasped once again, his right eye meeting the brunt of Dwalin's determined palm, hard as granite, the power of the punch hurling him back against the ledge wall.
"Try that again, you'll get the knuckle dusters," Dwalin growled in his face.
Thorin grunted and shoved to get past, but Dwalin grasped him tighter and now Dori held on his left shoulder, and Nori and Bofur and Fíli stood between him and that ledge. "LET GO," he demanded, seething.
They only held tighter.
She's down there, fallen to her death––
"MOVE!" A furnace ignited within––
It was no good. They glared, Bofur turned away, motioning to Bifur about ropes––
Ropes? No. No time.
He could not stand here; what were they doing––?
He pressed against Dwalin, glaring deep in his grief-filled, glacial blue eyes. Ē'ze. Mabajbūna'ulê. It had come to pass–– "She is fallen," he wept the words. Surely his friend––
"So you'll dive off a cliff?" Dwalin countered, not letting up.
Thorin blinked. The crashing and beating of his heart drowned the sounds around him.
"I must GET TO HER NOW!" Thorin roared finally, though it was mere fractions of a second later. Thorin's voice bounced off the far off ledges of the Mountains in echoes returning back at him from too many angles… Could he not understand––? "She's down there!"
All of his Company formed around him to bar him from the ledge.
They could not keep him, he writhed against Dwalin and Dori's grips, his insides twisted at the thought of her below, unmoving––
Lost––no hold. He sank in Dori's unshakeable grip. He couldn't be still, though Dori was too strong, too strong by far; he panted, struggling against them all, "Mahal, please," he begged them now, his sight blurred through tears. "Release and get out of my way."
"No." Dwalin held firm, one hand on his shoulder while the other reached behind his head where he gripped and pulled their foreheads together.
Ē'ze. Biriz Akmâth'amê––
Thorin squeezed his lids shut while Dwalin kept their heads pressed together, fleeing Dwalin's pain-struck face.
––His ONE. Mabajbūna'ulê. He had chosen and lost her in the same breath––
"We all love her," Dwalin spoke softly, his gentle tone a battering ram to Thorin's heart. "We all care for our wh––"
––He could not say it––
"––our wee lass." Dwalin tripped and stuttered past the unsaid word and pressed his brow into Thorin's, a sure embrace in the depths of loss. "We'll do all we can to get her back."
Thorin opened his eyes to his friend, bearing all.
"Now, let me now." Thorin breathed out, pleading deeply. "She's gone…" Panic took place of anger. And despair, hard, determined, crushing, held him fast it its resolute grip. Tears cut a path from his soul, down his face. "I will get to her, I must get to her––"
––Hold her goodbye––
"Not like that––" Dwalin muttered beneath his breath, his voice cracked.
"I can't," Thorin muttered–– I can't stay here, Bâha-amē––closed in by the panic. "You can't hold me forever."
"No, just for while," Dwalin shook him, his motion tinged with affection though his hold never lessened. "Dori a bit longer. So, ease your struggling; you cannot go that way, an' well you know it." Dwalin's eyes were rimmed red. The one Thorin hit had gone dark, both were ringed with the Warrior's falling tears. "Bofur, Nori, lads, are you ready by now?"
"Aye, almost," Bofur called from the ledge, with Nori muttering something inaudible.
Thorin heard hammers striking stakes from somewhere behind Dori and Dwalin.
"We'll be climbing down, Thorin," Bofur called. His voice would be a saving rope, but there was none. "We're setting the lines. It'll be quick once the stakes are secure."
No time. It is gone. She is––no more––
"The rock's fragile," Bofur said, "blasted flaking shale––"
––Treacherous stone––It broke beneath her––
Thorin stretched his neck to see Bofur and Nori arranging lines with what limited rope they had while Bifur and Bombur hammered in stakes for lowering, Bifur muttering and shaken in frustration at the crumbling stone they worked with, both he and Bombur hunched close to the wall, seeking a solid root.
He could not wait for this. So he struggled in vain.
Dwalin stuck to reason where Thorin could not.
And Fíli joined his keepers now, taking hold of Thorin's right arm to still his thrashing.
Thorin clenched his jaw shut while his eyes burned red. What had he done? What could he do? He could not wait. How could he get to her that way?
And he could not leave her, surely they did not expect––
"Do you feel her?" Fíli whispered in his ear, gripping harder to gain his attention, and Thorin startled to see his Sister's Son so near, blurring into his vision, his caring eyes looking over him, grave and wise for one so young.
Juzrazur'ē…
Was it gone? A dread spread further through him he hadn't thought possible; he went limp in the grips of the three Dwarrow holding him, expecting to feel nothing.
And yet–– beneath the beat of his heart he felt the low steady hum of her Pull.
His hope rebounded and he looked back at Fíli, eyes wide. Dare he believe?
Fíli drew back, nodding. Aye.
She did. She did––Juzrazur'ē: Gold Song held the other end–– She lives––!
And yet, how––?
She fell from sight, so far––
How far––?
And Pull did not tell him how she fared––
He grasped Fíli's arm, tightening, this new question now clawing for purchase.
She could be hurt, she could be knocked out, she could be taken, she could be–– no… No… He still felt her––
––Panic resumed––He would be loosed to join her––
But the Dwarrow grips had not wavered.
She could be dying––
––alone.
Fíli's eyes flashed, knowing what he asked, worry riding high on the surface. 'I know. We will search.' Fíli dug his fingers deep into his arm in an effort to keep him still. "We will find her together. And Sasha's already gone ahead to look for her."
"LOOK OUT!" Ori cried. "It's movin'!" He pointed beyond Fíli who stood closest to the wall beside Thorin. A shuffling behind them and a blast of air, and Thorin knew a door had opened behind him. Dwalin, Dori and Fíli yanked simultaneously, and he was off the wall and pressed to another wall adjacent to an open door frame.
Ori fired a rock from his sling, and the missile landed square in an emerging Goblin's brow: it fell dead at Thorin's feet, twin knives falling from it's hands, while a hiss issued from the depths beyond, and a second Goblin showed its black face, rotted teeth baring, yellow streaked eyes full of killing lust. Kíli fired an arrow past Thorin into it, and it tumbled out, writhing but not yet dead.
"Dwarves, hah, the ones he seeks, yeach." This one was scantly armed, its pocked flesh oozing open sores. "Pale's bounty. Pitiful unfair to die here, but mine will get 'yach."
"What?" Glóin scoffed. "A dying Goblin yet plays riddles."
It smiled, inner-blood escaping its lips. "And that will make a rich few Goblins. My Brood's lookin' for 'yach tonight. Pay a mind." It coughed. "You will 'nach live past dawn."
At least that was clear––
Thorin resisted the urge to kick, and then the horrid thing died. Thorin flexed and dropped weight to see who among his graspers had relaxed.
None, and Dwalin shook him soundly against the rock to emphasize the fact.
Ori reached over and took a written leather from the dead Goblin's hand, looking over the words.
Thorin continued thrashing against his Dwarrow's hold.
"Can you read it?" Balin asked, with Ori leaning over the leather.
"Aye." Ori read it, over and over, Thorin could tell by where his eyes went, frowning, flustered and nearly huffing each time his eyes traveled over the dark runes. He glanced at Thorin and back at the leather again.
Thorin had no patience. "I do not care!" he shoved once more against Dori, head straining toward the cliff.
Balin glanced from the leather to Thorin. "No, Thorin, you should hear this…"
Kíli glanced at him and stared back into the tunnel, bow at the ready. More would come.
More–– "I must get down, get to her, before––"
"Have an ear while Bifur and Bombur set the stakes for climbing, laddie." Did Balin think to distract him?
Impossible.
But go on then–– Thorin peered back into the depths of the open door, he did not care to hear. There was nothing beyond for a long way in, the path straight and deep, with many openings joining in from side to side, alleys beyond count––
"They search for you." Now Ori said.
Of course they did. Reckless, to stay so close to the Goblin Dwellings–– They had not signed on to this––
"They're offering quite a sum for your… Um… Head… Lord Thorin. Just your head."
Thorin imagined this deed the Goblins craved, the taking of his head: just as Sigil'adad's before the eyes of his people at war, Dwarrow and Dwarrow-dams losing their lives along with their morale, a lost King, never to recover–– and here stood his Company.
And Sona––lost, hurt–– running out of time–– or worse––
Thorin would not look away from the gaping maze beyond the entry–– had they dragged her in here? If, how would he ever find her? Even though he could feel ways through stone–– This stone felt… seeped in darkness.
Dwalin and Dori's grip tightened; they sensed his ready spring. Dori looked over toward where Bofur and Nori secured ropes, while Dwalin, after a glance at Thorin, glared steadily inside. "She's not in here."
"And you know this how? You only wish it." Thorin shoved; it was no use.
"There will be more," Ori said as if in promise.
Had not the Goblin said the same? Of course there would.
"Then we will kill them," Kíli groused, his draw hand holding an arrow.
Thorin pushed against the fingers of his captors. Helpless, he felt her still–– but how?
"Aye," Ori added, no hesitation. He would keep wary and defend. And for a second he caught Thorin's eyes. Paling at the raw defeat that met his gaze, he looked down. "Pardon."
––Perhaps the ledge was not so high––
Thorin hadn't been able to see before, through the foggy air, the rain and the foliage growing off the the rock face––
"Bofur? Nori?" Dwalin interrupted, digging his thumbs firmer over Thorin's shoulder and collarbone. "You ready yet?" The Warrior glared back at Thorin, as if he felt him awaiting his moment. Because he did.
"Just about."
"Aye."
Thorin growled––this useless holding––and Dori frowned at him, shaking his head no, strengthening his hold, already impossible to break.
Fíli attempted to catch his gaze, burning like the sun so close to his face, his fingers digging deeper, but Thorin would not return it.
"Listen now, all of you," he called. Those at the ledge perked their ears, though they did not stop their tasks. He raised his voice over the hammers. "I do not care to cause your death and ruin for a cause you did not sign onto: I do not hold you to your vows, should any of you wish to leave."
Then he glared once at his Sister's Son, then Dori, to settle it on Dwalin. "Let me go so I may get on with it."
They all stared, mouths slack. Fíli, Dori and Dwalin made no motion to release. And then all of them shook their heads, as one.
"Utter bollocks, Thorin," Dwalin made a glance toward the ledge. "Let's get off here first, have a look below."
"You see what comes," Thorin hissed, cocking his head and aiming back inside. She cannot be in here, alone… "I will not leave until I find her."
"We won't leave you, either of you," Kíli spat back, arms crossed, his words echoed twelve more times by each one of his Company. "Where do you think we'd all go, N'adad? Should some Eagles come carry us off?"
The lad had a point. Thorin could only grimace in response.
Fíli laughed, his breath catching in Thorin's face, reminding him of living––
He had to find her living––
And others followed, there was laughing, but Thorin could not remember why.
And then Bofur looked up. "Two lines set, we can go now, two by two, aye. Bifur's sure the stakes are well set. Shall we then, lads, Thorin? And we'll have a look below?"
Thorin nodded, fast, pressing, please yes.
Dwalin shook him until he looked in his eyes. "You go down the ropes. Tell me now."
"The ropes," Thorin growled back, knowing he'd be tied and carried otherwise.
He pulled his nose to Thorin's, glaring at him through his now blackening eye. "No rash moves, Buhel."
"We go down," Thorin nodded; he felt his own eye swelling. "On the ropes."
"Aye."
They never made it to the ropes.
A whooping and hollering issued from the gaping passage and Kíli and Ori were firing shot after shot into it, where suddenly countless Goblins spewed out, just as another swarm climbed over the edge of the ledge––
––where Sona had fallen––
––Ē'ze!
Goblins came up and out in equal measure.
Thorin felt sickened, his gut coiled.
And only then did Fíli, Dori and Dwalin release him, letting go their hands as all went for their weapons, and Thorin veered with speed, drawing Orcrist. Bifur hailed as he pitched him his ax in addition; Thorin slashed and hacked through Goblins, one after another, only seeing Sona's face, drowning out the blood, the stench, but only how she'd looked, how she smelled, so close at the Forge––
––That dreams could be real––
But Goblins were. And death, and loss.
No––He still felt her.
Orcrist swinging, Thorin kept on. His way to Sona barred, he let his anger loose on the obstacles set between them, these light-forsaken Goblins. In an instant all the Dwarrow were swinging and blocking and slaughtering a multitude of Goblins from every direction; no one could get to the ropes Bofur, Nori, Bifur and Bombur had set. All were forced to fight their way along the ledge, away from where she fell, away from the door, toward the open surface, heading downhill along the path of the ledge.
Anger pressed him on, this filth would keep him from her!
No. no. Not this night.
He swung and he sliced and he hurled into them––
Sona, how should I find you?
––And Goblins died, unable to stop or even slow his blows, one racing after the other into his sword and ax.
No. They would not keep him. He cut through Goblins with sure placed fury, unleased and roaring, his mind set on her.
He fought ahead of Bofur, who hewed Goblins with his mattock, anger coloring his face beneath the long hat. Nori was on his other side, raining blows upon them with his cutlass and his mace, as Bombur twirled his axes behind, slaughtering one upon another; they took out dozens with trifold fury moving them.
Bifur pitched the filth with his boar spear held long, felling many with single sweeps, down––
––the way she had fallen––
Gold Song
––loose off the face of the cliff.
He still felt her.
Farther down they fought, all of them as close as their weapons allowed, while Glóin cleared their rear path, swinging his walking ax, slicing through the ropes before they were pushed down the path. So much for ropes.
Dwalin stayed ahead of Thorin, hewing with Grasper and Cleaver, Fíli and Kíli fought ahead of them.
The Dog had gone to find Sona––Mahal, may Sasha find my Thief.
His Sister's Son's swords bit a forward path, with Ori, Balin and Óin behind them, helping clear the way.
They fought and they fought, moving from where they'd lost Sona.
She still lived––
Down. Away. After a while the ground tapered and widened into a heavy slope, and they were slide-fighting their way down as yet more Goblins attacked.
Thus accosted, the Company fought on, bit by bit down the side of the mountain, killing Goblin after Goblin. Sometime midway the rain had slowed and stopped, and darkness took the night, without star or moon, and they faced Goblin attacks on every side.
No doubt, now they had lost their way.
And Kíli asked in a lull of attacks, "is this a residence pocket within the Mountains? Do they come from their windows out of the ground and rock?"
Most likely––
––a nest of wasps––
"Ay, Kíli," Fíli assured, his voice forced to an ease he did not show in his face. "We surf over the topside of Goblin Town."
––Surf––
––Sona's 'Adad surfs. Thorin sliced through two more. I will find her.
Bofur laughed with them while more Goblins surged on from ahead and besides.
Dwalin parried off a few attacks from Thorin's flank, and Thorin saved him from a half dozen in turn.
On and on it went until the stream of Goblins ebbed and now they searched, discovering indeed they'd lost their way back.
Surely they moved in circles, through no fault of their own in the dark night, though light began to paint the horizon to the West, and stars appeared where clouds opened in the sky.
Sona was nowhere to be found.
He turned in bitter frustration toward Dwalin, the question screaming from every blood-soaked pore: how would they get back?
Dwalin shook his head.
They no longer knew where they were or exactly where Sona fell.
How long has it been?
He still felt her. But where was she––?
Dwalin avoided Thorin's eyes, for the grief he saw reflected there. But eventually he ambled toward Thorin as they searched, seeking peace, and Thorin saw a different pain reflected there. The pain of purpose lost, a grievous failure––
"No, Dwalin. No blame," Thorin aimed his eyes between his friend and the paths they searched.
Yet panic kicked up as the fight against Goblins dwindled.
Every turn and tree was like the next. So lost.
Running out of time.
Dwalin shook his head, tromping on, biting his jaw down in a vain attempt to keep his stone mask set. Finally, he said, "You know, she talked to her Dog as the Stone Giants waged battle."
Thorin cocked a brow, though it hurt to move so, eying the Warrior. "She often talks to her Dog."
Dwalin rolled his eyes and carried on. "She said she didn't remember that battle happening in the 'book' at all."
Thorin held his gaze as best he could, saying nothing.
"We're in some 'book'? Is that what Kaleforn'ya is?"
"Our fates are not set by what is in her 'books'." Thorin turned to meet a stray flying Goblin with the edge of his blade.
Dwalin took a moment to absorb that as a few more Goblins rushed at them and died for their trouble.
"Then she did not know of this danger––" Dwalin muttered as he pulled Grasper from a Goblin's chest. His face was twisted, though not from the effort of battle.
"No," Thorin let out a groan, stretching long to catch the next Goblin that flung itself upon them.
The search was strenuous and slow for all these bloody interruptions.
And then there was quiet as the Company trudged on.
"Juzrazur, that Pull you once told me of…you still feel it, Thorin?" Dwalin asked below his breath, out of hearing of the others.
"Aye," Thorin looked to his hands, dark with Goblin blood.
"We will find her."
There is no other way. "Aye."
The Moon-fearing Goblins made weak and easy opponents, and the Company killed countless without sustaining more than scratches before dawn began to part the night.
In due time, each hour feeling like the loss of a year, they made their way to what might be the bottom of the cliff where Sona fell. But then any doubt was dismissed: Bofur discovered his ropes tangled among the fallen Goblins that littered the clearing next to the cliff wall; these had fallen from above by Bifur's spear, pulling the unsecured lines with them.
But Sona was not there.
That means she must have moved, or–– No. He could not think it––
While the last of the Goblins grew cold behind them, the Company stopped to check their surroundings.
A shallow pool from a falls formed close to the cliff. A creek ran off from the high ground, and there were woods all around, slopping beyond the pool. The rain passed some hours ago. There were no tracks or trace beyond the bodies and the foot prints of too many Goblins, but the earlier rain may have covered traces of Sona.
The Company cleaned their hands and faces of blood and drank from the pool as everyone gathered at the cliff-side.
Balin beckoned Ori and joined Thorin at the water. "You still have the leather note from the Goblin's hand, laddie?"
Ori nodded, patting a satchel pocket before pulling out the foul leather.
"Read it."
"It's not necessary, Balin." Thorin objected, wanting simply to continue, even knowing he knew not where to start.
"Everyone's washing up, Thorin." Indeed, they all were, and several of the Company drank their fill, as no doubt they all should. "We'll have a listen while we regroup and take some water." After motioning for the others to do just that, Balin turned to Ori. "Read the leather, laddie."
His Advisor would know specifics this time, the ones that Tharkûn never named aloud to anyone but Thorin––Who is it that hunts his King?
"Aye," Ori nodded. "Well then." He cleared his throat, directing his attention to the words––on leather––what kind Thorin would not contemplate–– "'Unto the Goblin King; we seek the––" Ori narrowed his eyes and would have bored holes in the leather if eyes could cut… "––Dwarf Scum, Thorin Oakenshield. We would like all of him, alive, unspoiled, with his Brood Shoots. But his head will do for less.'
"Then," Ori looked up, his fingers glancing over further words, "it promises payment."
Balin waited for Ori to finish.
Thorin studied the ground for traces of Sona.
Traces that did not exist.
Where are you––Gold Song?
And Ori read on. "'Reward: 250 gold Gondorian dung coin:'" Ori scrunched his nose. "'50 pics of the next favored kills, for hearts and skull trophies, unless it be the Oakenshields's itself. The Oakenshield's Brood Shoots may be included in this request, but not before we've had our fill of game with them.'" Ori blanched, peering at his friends, and then back at Thorin.
Fíli and Kíli glanced at each other, at first confused, their frowns darkening as understanding dawned.
The Company all gathered round to listen, there faces cut, creased, full of horror and wrath.
"How does it end?" Balin asked, his voice ragged. "Who so hunts our King?" Balin's eyes were full, glistening with grief, flashing hot while anger flushed his face. "Thorin? Fíli and Kíli? Who, Ori?" Who, then––? Balin would demand to know this.
Thorin knew his Advisor would be disappointed––
Ori signed 'no', stopped by the gruesome words.
So Thorin stepped in for Ori: "'If just a head…'" Thorin recited, continuing to search the ground for any kind of clue–– "'then only Oakenshield's will get you 150 in same gold Gondorian dung coin…'"
Thief, how could there be no trace?
Curse the Rain, take the Goblins––
"'… Bring us naught of another's remains with news of Oakenshield's escape, lest you wish to die from our frustrations.' It's signed 'Bolg, on order of my Brood Sire, on His command.'"
Ori's wide, shock-filled eyes went from Thorin to the leather and back, seeing Thorin's words entirely matched what was writ there.
"Bolg? Thorin!" Balin asked, or rather demanded. "Brood Sire? His? What? Who is that? And how––? Thorin!"
"One thing is sure," Thorin muttered, "it's just like the other," the leather Tharkûn had shared, before–– The grisly details of the orders never shed actual light on precisely who hunted him, besides this name Bolg, and these vague––titles.
"You knew these specifics." Ori's eyes were wide in shock as well as fright, a look mirrored by the rest of the Company.
Specifics? Thorin did not see it that way.
"The other." Balin repeated, nodding slowly as his understanding caught up. "What other?"
Thorin pointed at the leather Ori held. "Tharkûn had one of these at our chance meeting in Bree."
Dwalin shoved past his his Brother. "Mahal's Hottest Furnace, Thorin! You knew these details, and didn't deem 'em worth telling me?" His Friend's eyes flashed bright and angry.
"Useless Orc waste, for what purpose?" Thorin glared back at his Friend. He could only think of Sona–– why did they care about this leather and its empty content? "It changes nothing. It's neither time nor place for such talk––"
"We should've known we were hunted, N'adad," Fíli had stepped up, Kíli close at his side. Kíli nodded and frowned, a fire woken in him, while Fíli studied Thorin, his big eyes full and holding grave concern. Both lads remained paled.
"Perhaps, and then it would've taken root in your minds…" Thorin admitted, shaken, suddenly aware just how rooted it had become in his own mind. Without thought, he'd remembered every word, though he'd only heard them spoken once. He now watched it settle in theirs–– "…only pleasing those who hunt us." ––His Sister's Sons––This was too much.
Dragon fire upon it––!
No remedy––
––Sona's losing time. He went back to searching the area, for anything.
But his Company now drew closer to him, eying him, some outright seething, others indignant, all of their faces creased in pain and horror at what they'd just heard––
"Thorin!" Balin's voice lifted sharp, admonishing. "This is your life they speak so foul of, and your Sister's Sons."
"Would this have stopped you from coming on this Quest for our Homeland?" Thorin asked them all, his voice low, his soul aching–– Sona.
Balin nearly choked on the question. "No, laddie, it's just, you knew these, this––?"
"I don't care––"
"We care," Ori said.
Then Fíli squared his jaw, eyes hard. "And we would have come anyway."
"Aye," Kíli joined, canting his head for emphasis.
"As you did," Ori added quietly.
Thorin swallowed. Indeed.
Ori, their youngest but no less strong, proved as sharp as Balin as he sought to encourage them all. Thorin nodded to him and then glared at the corpses about the cliff. "Aye." Who cares what Orcs want?
I need to find Sona. But how, with no sign of which way she –– went?
He knew they all worried, though it was useless 'til he found her. His eyes were on the ground again; he would scour every finger span of it.
Thus grieved and moved, he continued to explain to Ori, to all of them, how truly little this gruesome knowledge was. "Even so, I did not know they'd be here. And these are not those, whoever they are. These just want the bounty."
Thorin didn't care. He longed for his One––and worry buried him live––
What if she died before he reached her?
And Sona–– What of her?
Alone.
Ē'ze, Biriz Akmâth'ulê.
Long silence passed until Nori shuffled up to stand beside Dwalin. "Did you all hear her say, 'Are you shitting me?'"
Dwalin laughed, nodding, and Thorin groused inwardly. What had she said? When was that? Ohhh.
In spite of Thorin's countenance Nori did not back off. He just stopped. "Never mind." He looked away, but not for hiding. More to show determination. Nori would think as he wished. "I'll ask her when we find her if she's got any more like that."
And Thorin knew thusly did his Spy express hope.
And Thorin still felt her.
"I'm sure she does," Thorin nodded once. Âkmînruk zu, Nori."
He turned and Tharkûn stood among them, just emerged from the nearest woods
/T\oSo/T\oDo/T\
Khuzdûl:
Ē'ze – my One
Biriz Akmáth – Gold Song
Mabajbūna'ulê – My chosen
A/N: Angst fans? This one's for you. I hope I've done it justice. And now we know how Thorin and Dwalin got those black eyes in Jenny-Wren28's "On The Road to Find Out." There are a couple more heavily concentrated angst chapters coming hot on the heels of this one, and then I have reached the end of Part One.