Part 2: Chapter 7: They Looked Up, With Faces Pale
Run run run…
Tharkûn was at Thorin's side as they fled, with a hand pressing into his collarbone, full of spark for running. For air.
"How close is the pack?"
Run run run run… "Not more… than two leagues… off," Thorin huffed out between steps, amazed he had breath to run.
Orc horns sounded, a low growl rumbled much closer. The Bear-man.
And then, on the edge of the wind still pressing their backs, the cries of Orcs echoed toward them. Hot on the Company's trail, they hollered their glee.
Dwalin ran opposite Thorin, checking sidelong, eyes wide with a look of impossibility. He carried Sona's pack. "Did they see you?"
"No…"
"Run, just run!" Tharkûn blustered, keeping his pace close to Thorin's, gripping him now and again, infusing him somehow with that spark for running. "They didn't see you."
Thorin panted out, no words to object while his mind and body raced.
Run run run…
"But… the Bear… is close." That much Thorin managed.
The Wizard eyed him knowingly between jostled steps, this time he didn't try to hush him. Instead he blustered some unintelligible curse before yelling them on, "Run!"
And they did. Moments later he glanced back at Thorin. "There's a house… not far."
That was a boon… not far. The running… would end.
"Whose?" Thorin attempted to ask, jarred with each step, "…friend or…?"
"No…"
No choice. Thorin said nothing–– he couldn't–– while keeping on.
Run run run…
Perhaps, once there, with their breath caught, they could talk their way out of trouble.
They splashed through a stretch of wide yet shallow creeks, the water adding weight and drag to his boots, but the rocks held firm.
They sped through a grove of Lavender, the mountain blooms mixed in with the white sort that hailed farther south––Nungu Azsâlul'abbad Zabal. Home.
Ē'ze––
––Sona Biriz Akmâth'ule––
There she ran, keeping pace with Glóin––!
Relief, a boost, a most welcome sight. The scent of the blooms nudged a well of caring, a well too deep to ponder.
Run run run run…
"Arrrrrrrarrrrrrghahh!" The Bear roared!
Its power felt like everywhere at once, as if the roar surrounded them, the pressing threat through to Thorin's core. That is a big Bear. Bear-man. Thorin's Company's steps all faltered, as each slowed and turned toward that deep throated cry, scanning the brush, the beast too near but not in sight. Owner's rage, his land invaded.
The Orc horns sounded closer now.
The Dwarves hovered briefly, gauging where the cries came from, but there was no time.
"This way, quickly!" Tharkûn bellowed, gesturing the direction forward with his staff.
Run run run…
And now Tharkûn dashed ahead and Thorin awaited the rear guard, yelling "run!" to them all as they passed, feeling the weakening in his breath. Still they heard him. Dwalin remained at his side, glaring concern as they raced on, hollering a very loud "RUN!" in his wake.
His Sister's Son's were behind the Wizard, followed by Bofur and Bifur and Ori and Dori and Nori and Balin and Óin. Glóin and Sona ran side by side, neither flagging.
But Bombur has stopped on the trail.
Thorin grabbed Bombur's braid, tugged him 'round, "Come, Bombur!"
His eyes were jarred from the horror to focus on Thorin. At that they expanded ever so briefly more, and with a nod Bombur was running again, faster than he'd ever run before.
"Inside, inside!" the Wizard hollered as they stormed past a massive gate into a pasture.
They raced through, and the Dwarves ahead were stopped by the latch on the house door, slamming against it one after another. Thorin came in panting, falling in last, with Tharkûn just ahead, all crowded on the door. Thorin pressed through them and lifted the latch, with the Bear-man's growls growing loud enough to feel the vibration in the air around them.
And then they were in, along the snout of the Bear-man, who thrashed at them, wedged between the door and the frame.
The Dwarves all heaved a forward press against the door, attempting to push the Bear-man out without use of hammer or ax. None of the Company would cause injury to him, their host, now neutral to their cause at best––
And he was strong, it was clear he could break the door with his weight, as their shoulders took the brunt of the force while deft hands shoved at his maul, avoiding his teeth and eyes.
With the press, pain returned full fore, but he could not stop pushing.
Breathe… breathing… hurt… but… ahhhh.. Breathe. There would be walls between his own and the sharp edge of teeth and foe's iron.
But then the Bear-man pulled out ––Imhêd'ul Mahal–– such relief––!
Thorin sought Sona out when they turned, as if she were some magnet–– Meget'ul Amgât'ē––
Ē'ze; there she stood, off to the side with the Wizard, less winded than mortally possible: she too had benefited from the Wizard's power for this race.
He turned away, looking about the place where a Bear-man lived.
"What was that?" Ori asked, his curious eyes lit with the question.
"That is our host," Tharkûn filled in.
About time.
"He's a skin-changer."
A Bear-man. Sona had read of him in her book. His growls could be heard moving along the wall from the outside as he slowly circled the place, but he made no further attempt on the door.
Thorin listened to the Wizard explain, while his eyes followed the Thief as she moved off to explore what looked to be a large hall, furnished with hearth, home and stables. Goats and Sheep and Dogs.
She lingered at a large chess set, made of Bear-people carved in wood.
A mind for strategy. A mind for reason. A white mouse scurried between the King and Queen, another behind the Warrior.
A golden-haired Dog very much like the Thief's, but with longer, thicker hair, circled Sasha, while Sasha did the same. The two took to each other, evidenced by wagging tails, prancing, jumping and various sniff rituals.
But there was another, more boisterous fellow––
"Hey, little guy!" Sona kneeled and reached out to the small Dog she found mulling about her feet, one with sandy-fur, black ears and curly tail, and a soft pug face unlike any Thorin had ever seen before. He licked and sniffed her extended hand, and then the Thief scooped him up and stood, admiring her new friend who kissed her cheek as she stroked his ears.
Not jealous of a Dog. No.
And then she laughed!
Thorin stared, making sure his mouth was shut–– wishing to hear more.
"You are quite the little peanut, aren't you?"
Peanut––? was that a nut like a pea? Or a bean-nut? Because the Dog reminded Thorin of a spotted bean.
"Beorn is definitely okay in my book if he keeps the likes of you for company."
And the little Dog barked, agreeing.
She laughed again! His heart swelled. She laughed! He never thought to hear that, with all their trials these past days, and yet he felt a pang, wishing he could make her laugh.
The days seemed long passed when they would speak to each other with accord.
And yet they lived.
Kaylîth Ē'ze. And here she laughed. He centered on the joy and exhaled, grounded by it.
And suddenly all the Company watched her.
Thorin could not stop gawking, like some twitter-pated Dwarfling––
And so the Bear-man, Beorn she called him, had won the Thief's approval, based on the Company he kept, this pint-sized bean of a Dog. Thorin only wondered more about their host.
"He's leaving," Ori observed, eyes going from the Thief to the door and back again as the sounds of the Bear's growls and heavy gait retreated some distance from the house.
He would keep the Orcs at bay––
"Come away from there," Dori muttered in frustration shared by the most of them. "It's not natural. It's obvious he's under some dark spell."
No, he is a kind we have not met before––
"He's under no enchantment!" Tharkûn bellowed, admonishing Dori's quick judgment, clearly irked by the Company he kept.
Typical Wizard. Thorin remembered his breathing and kept his thoughts to himself, well aware Tharkûn earned his ire by never bothering to explain unknown matters in the first place. He could cook in it, for all Thorin cared now.
Still watching the Thief, he remained calm as he focused on the lived-in spaces around her, benches and tables and an unlit hearth, Bombur was already there, lighting it ––the Bear lived alone as a Man–– By the hearth there were more benches and a pillowed chair large enough for someone even larger than Azog––
––Azog.
Lu lu lu lu–
No.
Kaylîth Ē'ze Biriz Akmâth'ame.
Asti. I will not think of him tonight.
The Thief angled through the Bear-man's furnishings, as though she were counting something. Was it that this Being who lived here was also a Man?
Tharkûn added another detail about their host, "… he's not very fond of Dwarves!"
Aye, no surprise. Not many were.
Then Sona's face eased away from frowning––
Frowning?
Thorin's eyes widened slightly, realizing she had frowned just when the Wizard mentioned the Bear Man's dislike of Dwarves. It bothered her––! Mahal's hammer, this was further comfort.
This was not good!
"Alright now, get some sleep all of you." With that the Wizard gestured toward the hay beds at the opposite end of the long house, where they would find rest for the night and discover their circumstances in the morning.
"You'll be safe here tonight," the Wizard finally finished, adding "I hope" softly to his groundless promise, hesitating out of earshot of the most of them.
Not all of them were tired yet. Bombur set a pot over the fire. Some wanted something warm before sleep.
Thorin turned his attention back to the Thief, one who was not stewing in what she already knew. She was eyeing the hay beds gratefully. Her joy was a pleasant sight.
It does her well, a night's rest in a building protected by walls.
Thorin was among those not yet ready for sleep, and so he headed toward the fire.
"Quiet goodnight, N'adad, once you find sleep." Kíli whispered close to his ear.
"Not now, Kí––" Fíli tugged on his Brother's arm from just behind.
Fíli knew about hair.
"When then?" Kíli shot back, his whisper firm between the three of them. "When we stop running? Or when he'll stop and listen?" No one spoke a moment in a quiet stand-off of wills, a stand-off it seemed his youngest wouldn't let stand. With eyes that could punch holes through metal, Kíli bore into Fíli. "You say it better," he said, almost like an order.
Agreement passed between them and Fíli faced Thorin. "We know why you rushed Azog when he had the high ground, on a Warg, no less." The steady fire of Fíli's eyes gleamed back at him. Kíli glowered, hot magma beneath a stern surface.
Both met him like a punch to the gut. No––
Then Fíli's hand gripped Thorin's arm, drawing his attention, pinching down hard enough to cloud the aches Azog had left behind.
Thorin locked eyes with his eldest, hard as it was to hold that gaze, that certainty.
"We'd have joined you; we did, just before the Eagles––"
"No." Thorin's voice was rough. One by one, he means to kill us all; by my life, he will not take yours––
––'Adad'ē.
Fíli settled into staring quietly, determination resting deep in his face. "He won't succeed, not while our will and our wit outweigh the least of his vows."
Thorin wouldn't argue with that.
"We know you worry, N'adad," Kíli added, easing. "We know you're sorry. Just, well, just know it. We nearly watched you die."
––Thrór Sigin'adad'ē––!
––No one died.
"And since you didn't," now Kíli started to smirk, "next time don't be reckless."
He laughed with the slightest nod, and then their heads were touching, all three pulled into a huddle.
Then Fíli nudged his brother with a bashful glance back at Thorin. "Good?"
Kíli nodded, leaning into his Brother's arm.
"Let's go, then," Fíli steered him away. "N'adad needs some peace," and with nearly matching winks, the two made off toward the hay.
Thorin climbed into the giant cushioned chair with his smoke kit and pipe in hand.
Glóin came to the fire soon after, and Thorin was reminded of Nai'adâl. Sleep, blast the concept, how would he avoid it? And here he wondered what his cousin would say next.
But first, he had his own question. "You could have warned me about hair, Friend."
And that was when Bombur left the fire.
Glóin puffed and muttered as he sat down, avoiding eye contact until he was fully settled in. Then he shook his head slowly, and Thorin couldn't tell if that wasn't a smile beneath his flaming beard. "Well, it was not as though I expected she'd come on you like that, take your comb and…" he stammered there. "And then." He shrugged, sheepish. "There was nothing for it. Now you know."
"Aye, Imêd'ul Mahal," Thorin muttered, altogether missing the blessing.
"How're you going to manage it, Thorin?"
"Who knows?" Sometimes Thorin wanted a playbook, as Sona would say. Books had proven particularly useless on questions of Ones. Answering this seemed equally useless, given his circumstances, and yet the simple truth would do. "I have the Quest. My Company's reliance. Our People to see Home. And so I will manage."
They drifted into silence. Thorin tried to relax the knot growing in his brow. "It's not about me."
After a long while Glóin nodded.
"Aside from––" He stopped. He was miscast ––Ze'zinishki akattibi–– and so? "We need her, for any success ––Kaylîth––Her safety, her health. Her free choice to stay with us. I–– I jumped a cliff, Glóin."
Glóin waited, still slowly nodding his head.
Still, Thorin had to say it aloud. He had to hear it himself.
"And then Azog. His taunts––"
"Akattibi. She is your One." There was no surprise in Glóin.
"You knew, then."
Glóin's eyes widened and he leaned forward. "Aye, akattibi," but he did not leave off with certain knowing: "I say there's a reason you rarely see paired Ones on a Quest such as this. There's a reason I advised you not to allow Danîe, should she have asked––"
"She did, before you advised."
And now Glóin feigned surprise with a smile. "And you told her no. You knew, even then. So stop fussing."
They both almost laughed. How could they be smiling now? It felt good, like the warmth of the fire, no matter what would come later.
But then Glóin asked him, "Did you make a fuss back there at the river, Thorin?"
All levity left him and he sank into a glare.
"Might help if you listen."
Thorin just stared.
"Did you say anything implying the bond, that she is your One?"
A detailed question, no less–– "Of course, no! Why would you even suggest it?" Thorin felt his face burn beneath his beard. This was too much.
"You looked as if you might when we left you on the path. Yet you are not her One, not yet, however much we all hope for it." His Treasurer met his gaze with fortitude and a tentative smile. "Seems you need a telling to, and being that your Sister isn't here to give it, I'll do: If you were harsh with your One down there at the river, you overstepped."
All Thorin could do was stare on. He would not grace that with any kind of response.
But it was true. He had overstepped. All of it was overstepping. He turned his face to the fire and they puffed their pipes together in long silence, until Dwalin and Balin joined them. And then the Treasurer rose, bowing out with a word about making his bed in the hay.
"You almost mope, but not quite," Dwalin observed, bearing somewhat on the gentle side, with a bit of confusion and uncertainty mixed in his observant expression. "You losing your touch?"
Thorin ignored the jab.
"Did you mess things up with her?' Ever blunt, that was Dwalin.
"You do better when your time comes."
Dwalin laughed at that, gruff and embracing. "I don't want to know."
"That won't save you," Thorin muttered, but then his face eased.
"The lot of you needs saving," Balin added in. "I don't suppose you want to to talk about it."
"No––"
"No." Thorin and Dwalin spoke at once. They both left 'it' undefined, following the deflection of their clever Advisor.
They sat quietly a long while, and each filled their pipes. Thorin was glad to be doing something so earth-borne to the senses. So he fingered through the leaf and slowly reloaded –– The taste of leaf and smoke, of promise in sweetness, breathing. Kaylîth.
Soon Dwalin broke the silence. "Did you see her with the little Dog, some kind of nut she called it?"
Peanut.
"Aye, 'peanut'," Balin explained quietly. "I read of them once, long ago in the Mountain's library. It's a nut they grow in hot regions far to the south-east of Gondor." And then Balin spoke on the origin of certain lesser-known nuts.
Thorin was relieved, listening eagerly to a subject not about him, all the while soothed by Balin's narrative as well as his voice.
Just then he heard water flowing, soft bells–– the bangles! and his heart picked up speed as he saw her in the doorway watching them, her face expanded as if she'd flooded the forge––
––She touched his hair!
Only now she looked embarrassed, darkened with it even, as though maybe––No, she could not be attracted. And then she was backing away, running again!
"Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll leave."
"No, no, you stay, Whatsafist––" Dwalin, too fast for her, rose and met her before she could get two steps back.
"––Pacifist––" she muttered, flustered but for the smile crossing her lips just then.
Her lips.
He stared, and then looked up. Her eyes were on Dwalin's, as big as a pair of saucers.
"We were just about to turn in anyways, lass," Balin offered, to quash the awkward stumbling. Awkward as if they'd just met––
How many months has it been?
Ē'ze.
And the Brothers were past her in another breath.
/T\oSo/T\oDo/T\
Khuzdûl:
Nai'adâl – shared dreams
Akattibi – with certainty, I know
Kaylîth – living
Ze'binishki – A Cast Away (miss-matched) One – miscast One
Amgât – attraction
Meget – lodestone magnet
Meget'ul Amgât'ē – Loadstone of attraction, mine.
Nungu Azsâlul'abbad Zabal – Flower of the Lonely Mountain Purple (lavender)
A/N: Things slowed, things picked up. Adventures continue...
Thank you Jenny-Wren28 for being my awesome Beta.
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