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*Where the crows rule
"Take off the blindfold and come down now!" Dis stomped her foot on the ground demandingly.
Thorin held his heavy battle sword in one hand and revealed one annoyed eye. "What the hell do you want Dis?!"
"Missy broke a leg. Dad knows and now Frerin is going to get a thrashing!" Dis rejoined quickly.
"How did that happen to Missy?" Thorin revealed both azure eyes and threw the blindfold down.
"Frerin has been riding her secretly…" Dis nibbled her bottom lip and suddenly all her furious drive got grounded hard. She avoided his eyes and began surveying her fury boots.
Thorin jumped off the battle stage and towered over her with a lingering look of authority that could easily overshadow his grandfather. "What?" He pretended to hear about this for the first time.
Dis's cheeks caught fire. "I was going to tell you!"
"When?!" He snapped and threw his sword on the ground with such force, it got embedded deep and vibrated for a few moments there between them.
Dis looked at it and paled. "Thorin…Ι was going to tell you!"
"You lie." He hurled at her coldly.
"Please…." She began sniffling.
"You kept Frerin's secret from me, now you get him out of this." He rejoined and turned at Dwalin who was looking at them amused.
"Finished Thorin?" The bulky dwarf asked.
"Yeah." Thorin shook his head dismissively.
"Dad is mad at Frerin. He is going to hurt him!" Dis' threw her hands in the air.
He inhaled deeply. "So I have to come and clean up your mess?"
"Yes, like I have done for both of you many times over!" His sister placed her tiny, but formidable fists on her waist and looked at him murderously.
He raised his brow. "Deal with it yourself. It's just a war ram for the love of Mahal."
"I tried, but dad is really angry. He doesn't listen to me, but he will listen to you!" Dis pleaded.
Thorin took off his fighting gloves. "I have more serious things on my mind than you and Frerin's idiotic escapades with the stable animals," he grumbled.
That gave Dis a pause of indecision. "Look I know you have been burdened with a lot lately. With the new commandeering of the army and with the training of the soldiers and with your personal training…."
"And with the loose dragons that's been circling around Erebor for several months now…and with the orcs that are roaming the forests who seem to gain courage and ground night after night…" He raised his brow at her and felt already exhausted, even though it was barely midday.
Dis inhaled deeply and looked partly regretful for bothering him with this. "You have a lot on your mind, I know."
He raised his brow provocatively.
"But he is our brother….and dad is mad….and…" Dis took a step closer to him and grasped his forearm.
"You have to grow up at some point Dis. You and him…I won't always be there to clean up after you." He said and the darkness of his words made her brows wrinkle. Dwalin who came up and stood behind him, frowned upon those words also, but kept silent.
"I know." She lowered her head regretfully.
He looked at her for several moments sternly, but finally his shoulders relaxed and he sighed in defeat. "Where are they?"
Dis looked up and her eyes brightened. "In the Throne room! Grandad is with them!"
Thorin raised his brow at Dwalin who nodded knowingly and then led their way into Erebor. He walked tiredly, uncaring about his little sister's tries to make him go faster. Soon enough he was walking the long bridge that led to the throne.
Thráin was standing in front of a kneeling Frerin with his arms crossed. A look of disapproval was on his tattooed brow. His long hair and beard enveloped his face, which was broken with lines of worry that had been dug up through difficult years. Behind him the great King Thror sat under the Arkenstone, with his heavy diamond golden frilled armour and his long beard full of precious stones. He was looking definitely bored, or maybe half asleep. The sentinels at his flanks were as always, immovable in time. Only Fundin got animated when Thorin entered with his small escort.
"My Prince." He bowed respectfully.
"Fundin..." -Thorin's natural baritone reverberated into the wide columned chamber. He stopped right behind his kneeling brother and looked at Thráin- "Father." He tilted his head in respect, but engaged his dad's stare firmly.
His father replied with a curt nod.
Then he turned to Thror. "My King." His tight fist touched his heart and he bowed his head.
Thorin's call seemed to reanimate the King. "Ah, my boy, what news of the outskirts?" He asked as if no special family matter was taking place in front of him.
"Yesterday we didn't have any raids." Thorin replied quietly.
Thror seemed pleased with that and resettled on his throne. "Very well, very well. I didn't expect those cowardly filths to try again so soon after last week's slaughter."
"My King with all due respect, as this was not meant to be a military report, but a family issue between me and your grandson…." Thráin said with a respectful voice, which held a tone of steel in it, but was stopped by Thror's angry intervention.
"Might as well inform your older son of the issue at hand, since he is here!"
"What issue?" Thorin crossed his arms casually.
"Thorin don't act as if Dis didn't run at full speed, in order to bring you here to stop your brother's thrashing." Thráin warned.
"I did no such thing dad!" Dis yelled defensively.
"Then how the hell did Thorin arrive with such perfect timing, especially when I had ordered him on battle training this morning?!" -Thráin retorted and then his eyes fell on Dwalin- "Tagging along his trusty Lieutenant who was training with him?" He finished with a raised brow.
"Dad!" Dis spat. Her cheeks were red and her eyes wide.
"Really she told me nothing, but anyone can fill me in on this mess...since I am here anyway..." Thorin flicked his shoulders indifferently.
"Can we all stop pretending that we don't know what's going on and end with this charade?" -Thror spat and stood up from his throne- "I really have better things to do that sit here and watch you thrash your son about a bloody ram…" -he moved with slow deliberate steps away from the throne room grumbling angrily all the way- "As if my mind isn't burdened enough, I have to bear witness to your inability to handle your sons. For Mahal's holy beard, one of them is to take over this throne and he is already becoming sarcastic with the lot of us…and WHO can blame him…we are a bloody menagerie." His voice became dimmer and dimmer as he left them. The two sentinels and Fundin followed him, so the throne room was left to the family and Dwalin.
Thorin sighed deeply and looked at his boots. "That went well." He murmured under his breath.
"What did you expect him to do? Sit around while we pull each other's beards out?!" -Thráin gave his older son a critical gaze. Then he looked at his daughter- "Why did you run after Thorin? Him coming here won't change the fact that Frerin messed up one too many times!" -Dis hid behind Thorin and felt her face blanching. Thráin directed his wrath to Frerin- "You are going to get a good thrashing son…my best ram! You took her without telling me. You rode her to paths you weren't trained to handle and now she is as good as dead!"
Frerin covered his head terrified. "I am sorry dad!"
Thorin clasped Frerin's shoulder and stepped forth, placing his immense presence between his brother and his father. His beautiful eyes met Thráin's murderous look calmly. That gave his father pause.
"You will stand up for him?! Stand aside!" Thráin commanded.
"I wouldn't have stood up for him, if the fault was indeed his." Thorin replied quietly.
Thráin frowned. "What?"
Thorin threw his eyes to the floor defeated. "Frerin didn't ride Missy into Thranduil's accursed forest."
Thráin's eyes thinned as did his patience. "Who did then…?" The warning was lingering in his voice.
Thorin didn't take any notice of it. "Me." He rebuked and tilted his head slightly.
Thráin lowered his chin and pierced him with a blazing stare. "Don't do that..."
"I messed up Missy. I rode with her into the forest, like I had done in the past with Thranduil's horse. Now let Frerin go. He had nothing to do with this." Thorin's shoulders squared against his formidable father.
That was the first time that Frerin raised his eyes up to his brother and they were full of tears. "Thorin no..." He whispered.
The look Thorin gave his brother was austere enough to make Frerin avert his eyes quickly and his crying to intensify.
Thráin's eyes danced between the three of them as he was trying to keep himself from exploding, counting inwards until his wrath had abated. Deep down though a small spark of admiration awoke in front of this selfless act from Thorin, not that it was the first one that he was witnessing. Instead of feeding his anger further on with Frerin and the lies they were telling him, he decided to use this opportunity to speak with his older son, about things that truly mattered way more than Missy. Deep issues that he wouldn't have had an opportunity to talk about unless Frerin had messed up as royally as he did.
Still his anger towards his mid child needed to be addressed. Maybe though he could do it later when he was calmer. When the penalty wouldn't be as big as he had originally intended. He looked at Thorin with renewed admiration as he stood calmly in front of his brother and he felt proud. If his son stood up so selflessly for everyone in the Kingdom, then maybe their kin could regain its former glory with him as a King. Maybe Thorin stood a chance against the sickness that run in their veins. His eyes darted at the path that Thror took when he left them and he shuddered. Inhaling deeply he crossed his muscular arms across his wide chest and raised his brow at Thorin, wanting to let him know without words that he knew exactly what was going on.
The small tilt of Thorin's head was enough to clear up that quiet understanding between father and son. Then he addressed the rest of them with a deep voice that resounded upon the statues of their forefathers. "Everyone OUT!"
Everyone did as he commanded. They scattered quickly across the bridge, not looking back once. All except Dwalin who looked protectively at Thorin for a moment, before following the others out.
"Everyone but you…" Thráin's eyes thinned on Thorin.
"Do you see me go anywhere?" Thorin smiled.
Thráin raised his brow. "Don't think for a moment that I don't know what you did."
"I know you do."
Thráin's lips twitched and his shoulders relaxed fractionally. "Why didn't you let me thrash Frerin for his mistakes?"
"I think he is going to learn more from what just happened, than from your beating." Thorin rejoined quietly.
"He is going to learn that you will always be there to defend him!" Thráin rebuked and his single fierce eye glowered at his son.
"So what's wrong in knowing that your brother will always be there for you?" Thorin smiled at him.
"You forget the rule of action and reaction. You didn't allow him to take responsibility for his actions." Thráin shook his head.
"Want my opinion?" Thorin raised his brow.
"Always..." Thráin said and beckoned him closer.
Thorin walked next to him. "I think Frerin was seeking the attention of a woman, that's why he acted so unwisely. Not that his mind at times is not made out of straws."
Thráin smirked and nodded curtly. "Know who she is?"
Thorin shook his head. "No."
"Lying again?" His father mouth toyed with another smile.
"I think it's his secret to divulge." Thorin flicked his shoulders.
Thráin gazed at his son long before he spoke solemnly. "You won't always be there to help them out son."
Thorin's brow shadowed. "I know."
"Let Frerin handle the repercussions of his actions then." Thráin's voice was strict.
"Not for this reason father. Not because he decided to mount your royal ram in order to impress the woman he loves. Didn't you do stupid things to impress mom? Didn't granddad catch you? Not even once?" Thorin looked down at his father as he was several inches taller than all his family members.
Thráin put his hands on his wide belt and smiled. "Oh, I did some pretty stupid things for your mother. And Thror did catch me, because unfortunately I didn't have an older brother to cover up for me."
Thorin smiled. "Well…there you have it."
A strong hand landed on his shoulder. "Don't think I let Frerin go because I felt sorry for him or that for a moment I believed your bullshit."
Thorin's brows furrowed.
"I did it because I admire the way you stood up for him." Thráin's voice filled with said admiration.
Thorin huffed indignantly, but remained silent.
"Stand up for everyone in Erebor like this and we shall see a worthy King on that Throne under the Arkenstone, soon." Thráin's fingers tightened on his shoulder.
"Father I wanted to talk to you about that…" Thorin hesitated.
Thráin frowned. "What about?"
Thorin drew away from him and Thráin's hand fell empty to his side. His brows creased deeper and his eyes sparkled with sudden worry as he saw his son pacing in front of the glorious throne. "What is it my boy?…" he murmured under his breath. Obviously whatever it was that his older son wanted to communicate wasn't easy. Considering how prudent Thorin was, this was making Thráin rather uncomfortable.
Finally Thorin stopped and turned around. His features were carefully controlled, but his beautiful eyes were blazing under his well formed brows.
"You are worrying me..." Thráin didn't know if he wanted to hear whatever was backed up by these eyes.
"If I retract my right to the throne, it is Frerin that will take over correct?" Finally the words were out of his mouth.
Thráin raised his brow and his head tilted to the side. "What are you talking about?"
Thorin raised his hand. "I am talking theoretically. If I retract my right…"
Thráin's voice boomed into the huge cavern. "Who is she!?"
Thorin frowned. "Please listen…"
Thráin reached him in two steps and even though he was shorter than his son at that moment he looked much more menacing. "Who is she!?" He repeated.
Thorin glared at him and his jawline tightened. "Siv."
Thráin inhaled deeply and his nose flared. "She's one of the Blacklocks, isn't she?"
Thorin found himself silently nodding. For someone who was dedicated to marry this woman, he didn't seem so bold right now in front of father's dawning wrath. "Yes."
"Daughter of Lord Cael. He is the master swordsmith." Thráin's lips curled up in disdain.
"Yes".
Thráin's single eye seared through Thorin's for the longest of time, before he spoke once again. "I knew I shouldn't have send you down there to learn the craft. I have seen what's been going on since you were children, but I chose to ignore it."
"You are acting as if I am sick." Thorin looked at him abhorred.
Thráin raised his finger threateningly. "You just -theoretically- gave up your right to a throne that all seven families offer their pledge, because of a woman! You are the heir of Durin!"
Thorin frowned and took in a deep breath that he didn't release.
"Silence? We both know that any kind of formal bond to any kind of woman would destroy the dedication I need you to show to this throne and the Arkenstone!" Thráin thundered and pointed at the aforementioned precious jewel.
"It's her rank, isn't it?" Thorin spat.
"No, it's not!" Thráin retorted.
"I know what you are going to say." Thorin tried to take the offensive, but his father was not allowing him.
"No you don't." His father glared at him dismissively.
"Father I love her!" Thorin felt infuriated by his father's dismissal and fed his courage with those negative waves.
"How long has this been going on?" Thráin turned his back at him.
"Two years now." Thorin looked at his arm bands not knowing why he was feeling guilty of saying what should have been said years ago.
"And you are ready to give up the throne for her?" Thráin's voice was slightly shaking under all that steel.
"Yes, if I cannot share it with her." Thorin raised his brow.
"All that for a woman…" Thráin muttered.
"Not just any woman. I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her." Thorin felt exasperated that his father was unable to understand him.
"Have I ever denied you anything son?" His father turned to him and his single eye looked broken.
That made Thorin pull back and remain silent.
Thráin pressed his lips under his immense beard. "Bed this woman if you must, keep her for yourself, but don't bring her near the throne and for the love of Mahal don't ever plant any seeds!"
Thorin shook his head angrily. "What other reason apart from her rank would you have to deny me the right to marry the woman I love?"
Thráin approached him and grabbed both his shoulders. "The problem is not marrying low in rank son. You must not marry at all!"
Thorin's frown deepened. "Father why?" He felt hurt beyond reason by his father's words. Hurt and confused.
Thráin licked his lips in uncertainty.
"You were allowed to love, my sister and my brother are too. My grandfather…also. Why not me? Why are you so unfair to me?" Thorin asked and felt his eyes watering and didn't try to stop them as he didn't care showing his emotions to his father.
Thráin's eyes shadowed and Thorin saw that this was affecting him as much. "Because we have to break this curse. We have to break this sickness and you are our best chance son."
"I think you are just making up excuses!" Thorin spat.
Thráin pulled back and looked at the Arkenstone. "You cannot marry Thorin, because we expect a lot from you. You cannot be consumed by a family. You have to keep all your might and all your brains concentrated on the Throne. Let the breeding to your siblings and take over the Seven Dwarven Kingdoms according to your birthright, because your grandfather is not well...not well at all."
"What are you talking about?" Thorin felt bewildered.
Thráin's large fingers encircled his upper arm. "Follow me and I will show you." He led his son way deep into the bowels of the earth, passing through corridors and long bridges silently as they walked towards the pillared vaults of the treasure rooms. There he stopped at a balcony and pulled Thorin next to him. King Thror was down there, amidst his mythical gold. Touching it, smelling it, talking to it. Seemingly lost into a world of his own. Laughing like crazy as he swirled around, then stopping abruptly and whispering at it secrets that no one was allowed to hear.
Thorin swallowed a suddenly dry throat and felt like he was seeing his life waving goodbye at him.
"Your grandfather is being consumed by the gold sickness..." Thráin muttered.
Thorin couldn't take his eyes away from Thror. He remembered well the stories his father told him about the sickness that ran in their family. How susceptible they all were to it. Thorin knew, but had pushed that sombre knowledge to the darkest corners of his mind. Why was now Thráin reminding him of this? He was not ready to face any of it. Not now that he had Siv in his life...maybe not ever.
"You know which sickness I am talking about Thorin. It's in our blood and I fear it is slowly taking over him. I haven't trusted this to anyone but you, do you understand?" Thráin asked him.
Thorin nodded silently.
Thráin touched him above his iron plated forearm band. "I know how it is to love a woman, son. It's the most beautiful and fulfilling emotion in the world and you are so worthy of it, but there is no one else. Don't you see?"
Thorin swallowed and felt his heart sinking in cold darkness.
"It's you who will take over the throne and your grandfather needs your help. He needs our help. We must hold this secret sacred and keep a very close eye on him at all times. Remember what he did to Thranduil with the Gems of Lasgalen?"
Thorin turned to his father with a heavy stare.
"Many people thought Thranduil short changed him, but you and I both know it was the gold sickness. Thror didn't want to part with those beautiful jewels. Dragons have already been attacking our city on and off for months now, but I fear bigger beasts that we might be unable to stop. Do you understand the danger?" Thráin pressed his forearm.
Thorin's eyes flickered closed and another softer nod came. The image of Siv began fading into the darkness of his mind, in view of his father's heavy words.
"Love your woman freely. No one in this kingdom will stand in your way as long as I have a say in this. Make love to her, but don't plant any seeds. Don't marry or else you won't have the ability to hold all this together and you are the only one able to do it. I know it! If anyone will be able to break this curse, then it's going to be you Thorin! This ring of power shall be yours and with it all the responsibility of the Seven Dwarven Kingdoms. Keep women away from your throne and from the immense strength that resonates from within you. Only then will you be able to sustain the biggest stronghold of the North and the greatest alliance of our kin. You have a noble task in front of you son. Marriage…doesn't fit into this, don't you see?"
Thorin didn't move an inch. "I cannot disgrace Siv in this manner." His deep voice brought silence over them for several moments.
"I cannot choose your path for you. I can only advise and that is what I am doing now. Stay here. Look at him. Look at your gold, look at your lineage and choose wisely son. I trust in your judgment." Thráin said and with one last squeeze on Thorin's shoulder he walked away.
He had taken several steps up the golden staircase when Thorin's vibrating voice stopped him. "If I had chosen to wed a Longbeard would you have spoken the same painful words to me?"
The silence lingered for what seemed like an eternity. "I would have told you the same words even if you have brought me the noblest woman in Erebor as a bride. You have to protect our lineage, you have to make sacrifices son...I am sorry..." Came the unbending reply.
Thorin nodded and looked back at the treasure room as his father's military pace faded at the long hallways. Thorin's eyes got lost at the sad figure of his grandfather who stood down there in the cursed treasure room, surrounded by all his gold. He had trapped himself and his grandson in this madness without knowing or understanding. Thorin remained immovable, feeling numb and empty for a long time.
The words of his father burned with an iron rod the depths of his mind and heart. Bridling the need to ran out of these vaults to find his woman, with an iron grip. He remained painfully still in order to witness the slow, secretive descent into madness of one of the most prominent Kings who have ever lived in Middle Earth.
All in the name of gold.
His father didn't order him to send Siv away or to choose the throne over her, but he had bestowed upon his shoulders the responsibility for Thror. He allowed him to have the final decision, but he knew that Thorin was raised to support his family to the last. When Thráin left he already knew that Thorin wouldn't disappoint them.
So the Prince remained there, silently observing Thror, his young handsome face shadowed by the archways, for what seemed like an eternity. It was way into the night when he turned around in complete defeat and closed his eyes, knowing that he had to face Siv with the reality of his hell. Knowing that she was going to leave him…
And she did…She left him forever…
He looked up from his kneeling position amidst the ruins of Ravenhill and the cold air penetrated his skin angrily, making him shiver. A week to the day his sister arrived was when he was able to stand alone and direct his steps down to the royal burial chambers to see his nephew. Well preserved due to the cold, but yet untouched from the battle since he was in no condition to give orders for the burial preparations. That night when his sister left him and he tried to get some sleep, he ended up with another nightmare about Siv and woke up sweating and gasping for breath. His room was too warm, his blankets too heavy and his mind too overburdened. He stood up alone, put on his boots and took one of the war hammers that Dain had forgotten by his door and used it as a crutch.
The walk down to the burial chambers was quiet and lonely as the city was in deep sleep. Apparently no one had anticipated Thorin to stand up alone and venture such a long distance without any assistance, because his sister was also asleep and so were his friends. As for that maiden who haunted him day and night upon Dis' orders, she was nowhere to be seen either. So no one bothered him during his long and arduous walk to the vaults and equally unbothered he was as he stood in front of an elevated marble tomb and looked at the pale face of his boy. His eyes were streaming with tears and his mind had all but forgotten the constant pain that was coming from his stomach, even though he was clinging on that war hammer like it was his lifeline. He remained there for endless hours it seemed and the decision to visit Ravenhill might have seemed abrupt to anyone who did not partake in his thoughts, but for Thorin it became almost an impeccable need to do so despite his dire condition when he saw how empty Kili's embrace was whilst his arms were crossed in front of his chest. How could have they missed such a thing, he wondered, as he dragged himself up to the grumbled entrance with great difficulty.
He surprised the guards by storming their camp in the dead of night and taking one of the rams, but he didn't manage to slip away from that maiden's hawk eye as easily. She had caught up with him as he was limping up from the corridor that led to the burial vaults and she tried to stop him from leaving the city in this stormy weather, wearing only a tunic.
Those were her exact words.
They sounded so stupidly motherly to him that he dismissed her with his usual authoritarian broodiness. What was she doing awake anyway at this hour? Why wasn't she attending to his sister as she should have? Without answering to any of her other calls for reason and prudence, he pulled himself up on the ram and rode fast into the night without looking back once. At the beginning of his trek he was able to handle the pain from his torso pretty well. Soon enough though the heat from his body got evaporated under the heavy snow and his long mane was barely enough to protect anything more than just his upper back and nape. Notwithstanding the strong disposition of the Dwarven race, he felt more and more unable to handle the cold upon his stiff members. Instantly then he remembered the maiden's words for prudence, but his egotism kicked in sturdily and he pushed on until he finally managed to reach Ravenhill.
Roac alighted on his shoulder the moment he got off the ram, as if he had been secretly watching over him all along the ride up to his domain. He whispered words of wisdom and tried to convince him to return, but Thorin was adamant on his search. He informed the King of the crows that he wanted Kili's bow found and his loyal friend flew off to his assistance. Thorin searched amidst the ruins, stepping over frozen bodies of friends and foes alike. They all remained preserved exactly as they were on the day of his death and reincarnation. The silence of the frozen walls felt overwhelming, but also strangely comforting as he half walked, half staggered through the barren wasteland. His body was so numbed down from the cold, that he felt no pain when his skin tore away from the strong mithril stitches. Blood oozed out of his deep scar and coloured his royal blue tunic burgundy and with each step it expanded until the stain reached the belt of his trousers, yet he didn't realise a thing. His mind was focused at how cursed he always was to be the last one standing in order to search amidst the ruins of another battle for the few precious memories of his family. He has done it so many times, but this was the first search he did when he was barely alive himself. He pressed on and on for the longest of times and with each step he become weaker, not perceiving that the blood stain had reached down to his knees. Not understanding that part of his frailty was the cold, part was the heavy bleeding. He stopped only when he reached an opening that overlooked the valley. He saw the fires of Erebor blazing strong and vibrant under the grey sky accompanied by the smaller ones that flickered from Dale.
His homeland was alive again, wasn't it? His people were safe under the mountain once again, weren't they?
He thought his knees buckled under him because of the relief he felt under that thought, but it was because his body was bleeding out and freezing over slowly. His eyes remained locked at the valley of his beloved home until the caw of Roac made him look up. He blinked lost when his ravens delivered the precious weapon of his nephew right in front of him.
He reached out and touched it gently. "Thank you," -he whispered and felt his muscles feeble. It was the first moment after leaving Erebor that he knew he might not be able to make it back down. He settled back on his shins and that is when his eyes were drawn to the blood stain on his trousers and tunic. A strong shudder run through his body and he closed his eyes as he came to terms with his inability to move anymore- "Find someone…I need help," he spoke under his breath at Roac and it wasn't just one raven, but many who flew quickly away to do his bidding.
He didn't know how long he sat there, unable to feel any pain from his stomach, but neither from his fingers, his legs, his face, his eyes or his mouth anymore. He was powerless to move an inch in order to save his own life and he was already beginning to shut down when a melodic voice spoke to him urgently and made him inhale sharply as waves of terror erupted inside his icy body.
"There you are my Lord! What are you doing up here for Eru's sake!? Do you have a death wish?!" A heavy coat fell on his shoulders and he immediately drew it upon his frozen body with trembling fingers, yearning to draw in some warmth from it. He looked up through glazed eyes that he could barely keep open and sure enough there she was.
His sister's maiden.
"How did you find me?" His voice crackled and he coughed.
"Ravens..they were circling me and cawing like mad. They led me here" -she kneeled in front of him as he doubled over from the pain that simple cough had caused him- "Open up your arms please, my Lord. Let me see what you have done to yourself."
"Did they find you in the city?" He frowned when his body began shaking uncontrollably from shock the moment it felt heat enveloping it.
She shook her head and pulled his tight arms firmly away from his stomach. "I followed you the moment you left, my Lord. What you did had trouble written on it all the way. You might be feeling better, but you are not well yet and this weather is rough. I warned you, but you didn't listen."
"Does my sister know?" His eyes looked at her worried.
She pressed her lips and her eyes clouded when she saw the extent of his bleeding. "I didn't say anything to anyone. Your secret is safe with me my Lord, but you have managed to bleed yourself extensively again. Not to mention that you are frozen."
"Thank you…" he closed his eyes.
"Don't thank me yet. I have no idea how to get you off this damned place…" she looked around her confounded.
"Go to Erebor and find Dwalin…" He began, but she looked back at him sharply and interrupted him forgetting everything about etiquette and orders.
"No way am I leaving you here alone for I don't know how long! You will freeze or bleed yourself to death! We need to go now. I will try to lift you up, but you have to help me too, alright?" She shook him by the shoulder.
He opened up his eyes and nodded. "Yes."
A small, but decisive arm slithered under his armpit and her body tried to pull him up as he pushed. They managed to stand up, but he was clearly staggering and she was groaning with the effort to keep him steady. "You are too heavy…" -she muttered mostly to herself- "Do you think you can make it back down with the support I am giving you?"
"I will try." He frowned and his arm wrapped around his stomach in a futile and useless effort to contain the bleeding and keep his insides from spilling upon the icy ground.
Slowly she led him through the endless corridors and she understood that he was putting up a brave effort to alleviate her from his immense frame. Still though her body proved to be a much more efficient crutch than the war hammer they left forgotten up at the Overlook. Limping heavily and supporting himself on walls and on Eilin, Thorin managed to reach the lower ground of Ravenhill and find their rams.
There he stopped and winced with uncertainty. "I have to ride back, don't I?" He asked feeling the formidable task a little too much for his current abilities. His hand tightened around Kili's bow, making sure this mindless trek hadn't been in vain.
Eilin gazed at their animals and then at him. "You won't be able to do it, will you?"
"I honestly don't know." He shook his head and grabbed hold of the reigns. He pulled himself up with a groan of pain and instantly leaned his head on the neck of the animal panting for breath. Now that this heavy coat had offered him the much needed warmth, every single pain in his body had returned to debilitate him, with the one throbbing on his torso taking over every single logical process he owned.
Eilin kept her hand on the leg of his bloody trousers and nibbled her lower lip. "Don't move, my Lord!" She said and grabbed the reigns of her ram. She tied it at the back of his animal and then nudged his thigh once more. "Sir?"
He looked up from his inclined position, but barely saw her. "Move forward a little, I am riding with you." Her voice was slightly apprehensive, but decided.
He didn't move, he just laid his head back down at the neck of the ram as if she hadn't spoken at all. She gritted her teeth and took matters in her own hands. She released his heavy leg from the stirrup and placed hers in it. With one elegant pull she climbed up behind him, "Can you grab hold of the harness? I will lead the ram. Don't lift your body for I fear you are going to fall off." She omitted to say that in any such case, lifting him up again would have been completely impossible.
Once more he didn't move, so she had to physically force him to clasp the harness tightly. Then she leaned forth and grabbed the reins, but against the all reason that was forcing her to give him back his personal space, she covered as much of his body she could with hers in order to keep him steady and they started descending the hill slowly. As the road twisted and turned under the hooves of the ram and the snow covered their backs, her stomach and leg muscles tightened in a desperate need to keep both of them upright. Leaning as she was above his back it was hard not to have his long wavy hair tickling her nose as the wind blew them on her face and a discreet scent of masculinity that was hard to overlook made her throat suddenly grow dry.
She gritted her teeth against his captivating scent as she led the rams carefully down the mountain side. Torn like that between interest and fear and drenched in sweat from the effort she finally managed to bring them back to Erebor. There in front of the fallen gates, the last thing she had been expecting to see as she raised her head from the King's back was a seriously irritated looking Dwalin.
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