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Tempest
As the golden bell's resonance inside the huge caverns of the city was falling silent, Thorin was ordering the guards to open the gates. When he walked outside, the frozen blast of the violent snow storm made him momentarily reluctant to continue. What was he doing so late standing outside his kingdom, pursuing a vague message from someone he didn't know? Why did he decide to come despite the knowledge that he was not going to learn anything good about Eilin? No one that wanted to communicate lovely things about his woman would have asked him to meet in an isolated spot away from the main gates, in the middle of a blizzard. The whole deal reeked of an eerie undertone that made his skin crawl.
Logical course of action would be to turn on his heels, order the doors locked and burrow himself into their bed to feel Eilin's warm skin against his. Instead of standing out here having his long hair whiplashing his set face under the icy gusts of wind, he should have been drinking some mead, appreciating how hard she had unfolded her pleasure for him this evening. How monumental her unraveling had been. Yet, her words about secrets came once more to gnaw his mind like fiends and this message was not laying his worries to rest.
His jawline flexed. "No one comes in or goes out without giving their name and profession." His voice rumbled with the precursor of seething anger towards this messenger of doom.
The guards exchanged an alarmed look, "no scribers are awake to take names my lord this evening."
"Don't you know how to write?" Thorin appraised the guard with a fixed look.
"I will take in names my Lord!" The guard bowed respectfully.
Thorin tilted his head haughtily and turned his gaze at the snowy whirlwind in front of him.
"Your majesty the weather is intolerable. Not to be travelled on foot". The second guard took up the courage to speak, giving his friend a look of concern.
Thorin wrapped his coat tightly around him even though the famous dwarven resilience to extreme temperatures made it hard for him to feel any cold. "Lock the gates!" he commanded and began an irritated walk towards the appointed place. Every step his heavy boots took was accompanied by a prayer to the maker for this message to be a hoax. He prayed that he had been successfully duped out of the warm embrace of Eilin and into a true snow storm for nothing.
By the time he was approachingthe iconic tree something irked him to look back. The blazing monstrous fires at the flanks of Erebor's gates were almost invisible behind the white blanket that covered everything. There was complete darkness around him and above all silence. The muted sounds of the snowy forest that he always enjoyed so much, tonight felt forlorn. He entered the forest that surrounded the River Running and looked for the damned tree. It took him many tries to locate it and when he came next to it he leaned his body on those barks already feeling a complete idiot for doing this. For certain he was going to return to Eilin in a sort while without any dark messages related to him. He will sit down on his armchair and enjoy her steady breathing with a cup of mead in his hands. Then he will get under the covers and sleep until noon. He will remember tonight's stupidity and chastise himself for falling for the oldest trick in the book. An anonymous creepy message.
Now that he was there the ridiculousness of this situation came to rub him off the wrong way. Maybe as a person he was stubbornly outrageous at times. Unbending and abrasive, but he was not a man easily tricked. His mind was always quick and sharp and he had been raised to read between the lines since he was a child. He always saw everything around him as part of a strategic plan. Attack or defence. Planing several moves ahead if not until the end of the game most of the times. He was not easily losing control of any situation that needed his attention and all his actions, but very few, were deliberate as part of a bigger scheme.
He felt bothered that at this moment he was anything but in control. Whoever had managed to drag him out in this wretched weather, had taken all control out of his hands and Thorin abhorred that. Brooding heavily with these thoughts he had all but decided to return to Erebor in order to down a bottle of mead and punish himself for his idiocy, when a solemn voice made him almost jump out of his skin.
"Your majesty, you came".
He had to suffocate a groan of defeat and the momentary wave of fear quickly got replaced by aggravation. He straightened and turned to see his interlocutor that was hiding behind the tree when the voice stopped him. "No please my lord. I do not wish to show my face."
"I will look at the face of the man who wants to reveal information about my One or else I leave. Take care this risky endeavour doesn't backfire on you." Thorin's voice was contemptous.
He almost felt the waves of hesitation from the other side of the bark. It was good to regain some form of control, especially when he didn't know what was going to come out of that man's mouth. "Don't take too long to decide. I haven't got all night." The tone of warning was crystal clear.
He heard the shuffling of boots and a much shorter dwarf appeared before him. He had his head bowed low and his hands crossed in front of his thighs. His posture looked more befitting for a dwarfling that had been caught with his hand in a mug full of honey, instead of someone who was promising to share secrets about Eilin. "Let me see your face." Thorin's tone was scornful.
The man lifted up his head and Thorin's stomach felt a sudden jab of jealousy. This was a seriously good looking dwarf standing in front of him and way younger than him. What would such a dwarf know about Eilin that Thorin didn't know already? "Your name." The order was clear.
The man shook his head. "Please my Lord allow me the anonymity. There are other souls in danger from what I am about to do who are not in fault whatsoever."
Thorin's brow went up and his stomach dropped low. "Your precious anonymity will not add credibility to your words."
"Listen to my words first and judge afterwards if I am speaking of the truth." The man said quickly.
Thorin felt his nape crawling with apprehension. Now suddenly the need to get back to Erebor became almost dire. He didn't want to wait for this dwarf to reveal grim secrets about Eilin. A childish reaction came up for a brief moment and made him scowl. He resisted the urge to place his hands on his ears and pretend he wasn't going to listen. This was not a night when he was going to return to Erebor happy, was it? He remained silent, but his piercing glare never wavered from the man's face. Thorin used his tall stature to overpower his interlocutor by posture alone, even though he felt as if the stranger's oncoming words were going to defeat him on the spot. "I am waiting." His voice was cold.
A new delay came from Nyrthrasir as he gathered up his thoughts. "I arrived a month a go approximately to Erebor from the Ironhills my lord…"
Thorin's stern voice stopped him. "I didn't leave my warm bed to enter a blizzard in order to learn your story. Speak of the message or else hold your tongue."
Nyrthrasir raised his hand. "Listen to me my lord and everything will make sense in the end."
Thorin raised his brow loftily, but remained silent.
"I arrived here with my wife my lord. She is the one who is not at fault in this triangle and needs to be protected. Thus is the reason I am not revealing my name to your highness." Nyrthrasir bowed.
"Triangle?" Thorin's mouth grew bitter and his voice lost it's stony quality for a moment.
Another long silence as if the man was trying to decide what to say. Thorin felt the need to grab him by the lapels and throttle the words out of his mouth, but he remained immovable with great difficulty until the man finally spoke. "Before meeting my wife in the Ironhills I had been part of a vagabond dwarven company that roamed from city to city, trying to get a descent job."
"I really don't care," Thorin rebuked stiffly.
"You shall understand. Allow me my lord, please." Nyrthrasir bowed.
Thorin's nose flared.
Nyrthrasir on seeing the King remaining silent gathered up whatever had remained of his courage and thought of his pregnant wife and the innocent child in her loins. "On the road we resided in many taverns. One of them was the Forsaken Inn. Maybe you have heard it or possibly been in it?"
Thorin felt the blood draining from his face.
"I am sure you have. There was a girl working there. Half dwarrowdam, half human. Name was Eilin. She was working as a part time prostitute along with her best friend Rhiannon, but she was also helping around the premises as a maiden and of course she was performing songs for the entertainment of the customers," Nyrthrasir continued and his heart was palpitating.
Thorin felt something closing down tight inside him at those words and a soft exhalation of vanquishment left his mouth. He didn't dare speak.
"One of my downfalls had always been that I had an eye for beauty. I was wavering back and forth between Eilin and Rhiannon, because they were both equally beautiful. One was a red headed siren that resembled the most astonishing Elven maidens, the other a raven headed sorceress that could steal your soul. Finally I chose Eilin. I paid once for her services which pleased me so much that I became a regular customer. It is dishonourable my lord, but please don't judge me. I was young and foolish."
Thorin's lips curled in hatred and adrenaline suddenly pumped through his veins.
"Up to that point everything was compliant. Our relationship was professional. I paid, she provided. The problems started when I began feeling for her and she began feeling for me. You see I fell in love with her shortly after and she reciprocated my feelings, but this girl had always a sweet tooth for gold, for the big life so to say. I was penniless, so our story didn't go far. She broke up with me one evening with the excuse that I was not enough for her anymore. The only thing I could do was leave, you know what I mean?"
"Yes", Thorin answered without ever intending to. His eyes had fled from the man's face and were stuck at the half frozen river bank. He was looking at the waters running fast between the icy crystals. His body was becoming colder with each word this man uttered.
Nyrthrasir felt his throat closing down when he understood that he had the King's most solemn attention for one of the most despicable things he had ever done in his life. "I left and never looked back. I arrived in the Ironhills and settled down with my beloved wife. Nothing would have gone wrong had we remained back in Lord Dain's stronghold, but we decided to pursue our happiness under the rule of the legendary Longbeards." he bowed.
Thorin felt his back crawling, "get on with it…." He hissed.
Nyrthrasir nodded. "I saw Eilin again my lord. I saw her by your side and my heart fled my body and rushed off to her faster than my will. I cannot expect you to understand."
Thorin felt his eyes welling. But he could understand. He could understand that feeling only too well.
"I tried to keep away from her, but she noticed me also my lord and one thing led to the other so quickly that we both lost control...Repeatedly," Nyrthrasir whispered. He was unable to speak those words boldly enough. They were cutting through him as much as they were cutting through the King.
Thorin felt a blinding pain erupting in his chest that made his mouth dry out. "You lost control?" he whispered with a menacing undertone that made Nyrthrasir tremble.
The man nodded without daring to look at the King.
"Under my roof?!" Thorin continued.
Nyrthrasir came down to one knee. "I couldn't help myself my lord and neither could she. Forgive me…please forgive me."
He had to take in several strained breaths to be able to speak again, but his voice was hushed. "Why should I ever believe you? I don't even know your name. I should cut you down for trying to stain the honour of this woman instead of hearing you spill a river of excrements from your filthy mouth." The fury that he had been trying to keep bottled up as that man described his relationship with Eilin couldn't be contained anymore. His hand came up to draw his sword and act his words when the man reached up and gave him something.
"This belongs to her my lord," Nyrthrasir's voice broke.
Thorin's fingers loosened around the hilt of the Orcrist and reached down to take that piece of cloth. "What is this?"
"Her baby belt."
Thorin's hand jerked away as if it had touched fire. "No. It's not." He shook his head.
Nyrthrasir raised it further up urging him to take it. "It is hers my lord. She gave it to me as a love token in a moment of passion back at the tavern."
"She had lost this in the fields..." Thorin felt confused and unable to get a grip on his thoughts.
"No, she gave it to me. Show it to her. She'll recognise it immediately." Nyrthrasir insisted.
Thorin shook his head and reached down to it. His fingers curled around the overwork material and he picked it up. "That's not enough. It's hardly enough to make me believe you." He tried to sound convincing, but the seed of doubt had already been planted deep inside him and it was slowly taking up roots.
"She has the most adorable beauty mark on the inside of her right thigh. It's a misshapen heart." Nyrthrasir felt his mouth growing bitter and tears streamed down his eyes. Tears that he was lucky Thorin never saw.
Thorin's heart was in true physical pain. His hand tightened and the back of his fist rammed onto Nyrthrasir's face so hard that the man got catapulted several feet away and landed onto the ground like rag-doll. He spat out all his front teeth and felt his broken nose throbbing with excruciating pain. It was dripping rivers of blood onto the snow. Thorin inhaled deeply trying to calm down his erratic heartbeat, "enough!" He cried almost in anguish.
Nyrthrasir tried to pull himself up not caring about the mind numbing pain on his face and that his head was swimming with faint, just from that single blow out of Thorin's furious hand. "I did something unspeakable with your One my lord. I deserve to die, but I will implore you to spare my wife and our unborn child. She conceived when we arrived in Erebor. Please, have mercy my lord…..have mercy on her!"
Thorin turned the other way, not wanting to see or hear him anymore.
Nyrthrasir crawled up to the King on hands and knees leaving a heavy trail of blood under him. "I could have remained silent, but I have seen how selfless you are to your people. How honourable you act for your Kingdom. I couldn't live with myself knowing that I have dishonoured you under your own roof. I couldn't have lived knowing that I allowed you to marry a disloyal woman. A former prostitute. I couldn't have lived with a clear conscience my lord. Now that I have spoken the truth to you, please put me out of my misery. Be merciful and kill me, but please spare the truth from my wife. Tell her I died honourably in battle, I beg you!" Nyrthrasir broke down completely in front of Thorin's feet.
Thorin's jawline flexed. "You came to throw my world into ruins and you bestow the well being of your pregnant wife in my hands? What evil spawned you? Get the hell away from me."
Nyrthrasir looked up and tried to wipe the streams of tears that fell from his eyes. "Kill me, for I will not be able to live with what I have done to both you and my wife. Kill me, have mercy!" These words were the only honest ones that came out of his mouth that evening.
"Leave!" Thorin spat.
"Please show me mercy by running your sword through me..." Nyrthrasir sobbed.
"Get a noose around your neck and make sure it's done cleanly. I don't want any mess in my Kingdom from your death." the coldness of Thorin's voice send the final blow on Nyrthrasir.
The man cupped his mouth to stifle his cry of pain and run off into the darkness. Needing to hide from the King, from the King's One, from his wife, but above all from himself for what he had done.
If someone asked Thorin how he felt at that moment he wouldn't know what to answer. It seemed that every single cell on his body was in physical pain and that his soul had taken a dive into the murkiest waters. His heart was drumming and he was sweating profusely. He opened up his coat and pressed his chest with a pained hiss. If he didn't know any better, he would have bet that his heart came very close to giving up on him. The shocking revelations of this man came to assault him once more and he gritted his teeth against the agony that reeked havoc onto his body and mind. He leaned back against the tree and tried to breathe desperately. Each inhalation required a valiant effort in order to pass through his tight throat.
Eilin was a prostitute and an unfaithful liar?
Everything she had given him had felt so real and honest that his mind was refusing to believe the words of this man even though Thorin was holding her baby belt. Or wasn't it? He looked at it and his lips curled down. He wouldn't be able to know unless he confronted Eilin and he was not ready to do that in his current mindset. He was far from being well enough to attempt a conversation with Eilin at this moment. His head was filled with suppressed rage. It was not clear and composed. The fact that this man knew an intimate birth mark on Eilin's naked body came over to undo him. His adrenaline filled veins took over every single ounce of reason and commanded him to storm Erebor and find Nyrthrasir. He felt overcome by the urge to slice this dwarf in half for ever daring to own such personal information about Eilin's precious body.
One part of him was screaming that this was all made up. That he was going to show the belt to Eilin and she'd smile confused, telling him that this didn't belong to her. That this filth had dug up information about her body from some dame that looked secretly at Eilin as she was taking a bath in the servant hot springs. That all this was made up in order to break the King and his One by someone that held a heavy grudge on them. Then the other part of his mind took over again. The part that filled him with rage and an uncontrollable need to destroy everything in his path in order to find out the truth.
That part scared him.
He rested on his shins and covered his ears, but it was too late now. He had already heard how a nightmare sounded and was unable to put it behind him.
It took him a very long time to settle the original shock that caused him severe shortness of breath and aching on his chest. He kept kneeling against the bark trying to regulate his heartbeat and the throbbing pain that was also beginning to form behind his eyes. Tonight he listened to the worst things his mind could have ever possibly imagined for the woman that he loved more than life and he didn't know how to deal with the cascade of emotions that were ramming him from all sides. He had never come across anything so unexpectedly painful, short of Siv's death, and his mind was denying him the opportunity to work through this logically. His eyes closed and he gritted his teeth against his inability to pull himself together.
It was his fingers rubbing against the threadbare leather lining on her belt that made his thoughts focus into something less painful than the torturous images that Nyrthrasir had created for him. He opened up his eyes and turned the small belt around. His fingers traced what felt like a set of runes. Suddenly all his inability to handle the inflicted anguish on his heart got a new focus that felt a little more manageable. The need to see the inscriptions on that belt became rather important.
He remembered little from his brisk walk back, but when he arrived at the gates his coat was fully open revealing an also open tunic and a heavily sweaty skin even though he was covered in snow. He shed off his coat the moment he entered and discarded it next to gates. "Names!" He barked.
"Only one man my lord. Nyrthrasir. Lieutenant of the new army of Erebor under prince Fili." The guard placed his first above his heart.
"If I am not mistaken he is an old friend of commander Dongar. He was awfully bloody and could barely walk. He looked as if he came head to head with a rabid warg. We offered him help, but he denied it." the other guard added.
Thorin's eyes fell heavily on the guard and he remained immovable for a very uncomfortable amount of time, making them confused as to what to do next. Finally he spoke with a voice that reverberated on the wide cavern ominously. "Lock the bleeding gates!"
He walked up to his office, looking like a raging wolf. He kicked his door in and approached his fire. He leaned close and looked at the inside of the baby belt. His heavy brows wavered in confusion.
"I've seen this before," he whispered.
These runes were ancient. This was quite possibly a secret Khuzdul name scribed in the most ancient rune system he could recall from the books of the elders. He remembered that his father had various scrolls that deciphered these ancient runes enclosed in a safe in his grandfather's study. He stood up and rampaged through the whole place preferring to take out his wrath on inanimate objects instead of people. He opened and closed every single drawer and cupboard he could find. He knew what the key looked like, but he hadn't seen it since he was a young prince. He couldn't remember where he father used to hide it. Furious by his inadequacy and his continuous loss of control over tonight's events, he went through the drawers again. Taking out scrolls, pens and seals furiously as if it was their fault that his world came crumbling down tonight.
Just when he was about to give up, he saw the key under a pile of thick scrolls at one of the bottom drawers of his desk. He took it and stormed the dark corridors of a deeply restful Erebor as if he was the whirlwind that was tearing nature to pieces outside the gates.
He passed through his restored throne room and unlocked his grandfather's study. The soft voice of Eilin came to undo him the moment he was closing the door behind him and she was lucky it had only been in his mind, because he was not going to treat her fairly if she found him now.
"I've got secrets that I want to share with you but I am not ready yet. You need to be patient."
Secrets. Did her secrets by any chance had to do with that handsome dwarf who told Thorin with so much regret that they have become intimate under his roof during the last month? Had she become intimate with her former lover when she was also intimate with him? The blood mounted on his cheeks and rushed to his head with such speed that he crashed the heavy door behind him almost bringing the whole thing down from the casing. The fiery dwarven blood in him woke up with a scream and urged him to bring down the whole study not just the door. Rip it apart from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling with an axe, or why not, better with his bare hands. He wanted to make immense noise with his body, since his mouth was unable to do so. He wanted to wake up everyone in Erebor, but mostly the one that was sleeping in his rooms. Wake her up and demand answers. Demand from her that she didn't recognise this baby belt. Demand from her to convince him that everything he heard tonight was a lie.
A damned lie! the furious voice in his head rumbled.
That filth knew her naked body! the traitorous voice reminded him, he knew details from her past. Her best friend Rhiannon. He gave you her baby belt and you know she'll recognise it! the voice continued as he stopped in front of the reinforced safe and unlocked it.
"She won't. She will not recognise it," he retorted to his mind.
She will...This man knew too much about her already. It was exactly what Balin had been telling you, you bloody fool. She came onto you because of your position. Of your gold. Not because of you...
"No! Eilin is not like that. She loves me," he whispered furiously.
She loves the fact that you are the King of this golden city! his mind rejoined and those words were enough loosened up his knees as he emptied piles of scrolls upon the large desk and he had to catch himself at the side of it to keep from falling down.
Even the thought that Eilin might have attached herself to him, because of the King and not the man, made him lose every single ounce of anger and his heart to fill up instantly with desolation. He looked down at the gathered scrolls and his eyes watered up so quickly that he was unable to read the written words on them. There was only one way to get out of this study in one piece without going through his rooms first and passing over to Eilin the chaos that Nyrthrasir had passed onto him tonight.
He had to concentrate on something that didn't hurt so much. The baby belt. The runes. He stood in front of the scrolls that flooded his desk and felt his throat becoming dry at what he had made himself do. Instead of waking up Eilin and having an adult conversation with her about what happened, he preferred to get overpowered by adrenaline that called him to destroy. He chose to bury himself under ancient scrolls in order to figure out the runes on the back of that baby belt instead of straight out asking her if she recognised it. That would have dispersed every fear for him, right?
But what if she did recognise it?
That would have given him the final blow that would have send him to an early grave.
He sat down and took the baby belt in his hands. His brows furrowed as his fingers skimmed above the runes and immediately he began the cumbersome task of research. Something he hadn't done since he was a prince here when he was studying meticulously the Elder scrolls. Apparently his ability to concentrate deeply hadn't abandoned him. It was an unexpected gift that allowed him to be pulled away from the wrathful agony that tormented him ever since Nyrthrasir spoke. Without realising that he had chosen the best way to calm down, he passed most of the remaining night buried under piles of open scrolls that occupied every surface of the desk and also the floor next to his boots.
His eyes didn't stop reading even though they felt stingy, dry and immensely tired. The more he researched the more his hunger for blood began dissipating, giving it's place to reason. The fire in his heart cooled down and gave way to doubt about the honesty of this man's words. A doubt that felt welcome after the torrent of emotions he went through that evening. As he picked up the next scroll and his eyes thinned on some dusty old text at the bottom of it, he felt an almost soothing certainty that all this had been made up by this man. He felt almost reassured that his beloved wouldn't recognise the belt. It was almost transparent to him that all those times she confessed her love for him, that she had shown her unwavering worry and loyalty had been real. That all those times she came undone under him hadn't been a figment of his imagination. Eilin loved him.
Almost...
Who told you she cannot love him also though? the traitorous part of his mind made the dormant rush of adrenaline reawaken for a brief moment, which lasted little under the sudden recognition of the rune he had been searching for. His mouth dropped open slightly as he pulled back in order to see better. He placed his finger on the rune and then looked at the carving on the belt. It was indeed one and the same. His brows rose to the top of his head as he read the text that was next to it.
"Telchar was one of the greatest smiths in the First Age of Middle-earth. His master and teacher was Gamil Zirak the old. Telchar was commonly regarded amongst the greatest smiths of all times save only Fëanor and Celebrimbor. Among his works were the knife Angrist, the sword Narsil and the Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin."
"Telchar?" he muttered and leaned back at his chair. His finger pinched the bridge of his nose and he closed his eyes. That couldn't be right. The timelines didn't align. Telchar lived in the First Age, it was impossible he was related to Eilin, or that the belt belonged to her for that matter. Unless the belt was carved with this ancient rune on purpose, allowing those who had access to secret knowledge the opportunity to learn that this child belonged to one of Telchar's descendants. He shook his head and leaned it back unable to concentrate on anything else. He sat like that totally abandoned into his exhaustion, with the hook of fear tearing his insides apart torturously slow, until he heard the golden bell of Erebor call on the first break of dawn. That is when his eyes flew open and a new rush of adrenaline overtook him.
Soon enough the city would be awake. Soon enough Eilin would be too. Soon enough she would search for him and what would he tell her then? Was he ready to reveal to her what he learned tonight? Was he ready to risk her recognising this damned belt and throwing his world into the fires of Mount Doom forever? He was not ready to face her. He needed time to settle down the fury that was ready to erupt in the slightest cause. He didn't trust himself to face Eilin at this moment. His need to believe that all this had been made up was barely winning over his doubts that Nyrthrasir's words held some kind of honesty behind them.
He didn't want to face his beloved with this much anger and bitterness. He was not going to be able to mask them well enough for her. She'd know that something was wrong. He needed to get away from Erebor, if only for a little while. He needed to get his head back together. Calm his wrath and set his thoughts back in order. Regain some of the control tonight's events had cost him. He didn't want to see Eilin in this terrifying mind frame and he certainly didn't want to search and find Nyrthrasir. He didn't trust himself not to kill in cold blood not caring about that man's pregnant wife. His fury was blinding him. He was dangerous like this, too dangerous to be around.
Knowing that only one thing would be able to handle his ferocity now, he stood up and took the belt. He forgot his grandfather's study unlocked and returned to his messed up office. Not seeing the chaos he created last night in his manic need to find the key and to take out his frustration upon the harmless objects, he locked the belt on the most secure drawer and took that key with him.
Then he went into the armoury and chose a leather vest and gloves. He overlooked any heavy armour and the mithril vest that Bilbo had given back, tormented by guilt about what happened to Thorin up in Ravenhill. Not even comprehending that this small rare mithril vest would never fit Thorin's wide frame. He girded himself up and placed the Orcrist into the sheathe at his back. His walk to the entrance was unobstructed. It was too early yet for anyone to be out and about, but as expected after his orders last night Fili, Durar and Dain were getting a mounted brigade ready for the march up to Ered Mithrin.
"What are you doing awake so early uncle?" Fili came over worried when he saw Thorin approaching, deadly pale but determined.
"Haven't slept," Thorin rejoined.
"You are definitely looking under the weather my lord," Durar noticed.
"White as a corpse," Dain shook his head.
Thorin looked at the mounted men, "I am coming with you."
Fili frowned, "you are in no condition to fight yet. You are still healing."
"Don't patronise me, son. You are relieved of this command. You will return to Erebor and rule it in my stead." Thorin's voice was scathing.
Fili gritted his teeth angrily. "I am not letting you go alone out there. You might die in your still fragile condition. Remember what happened during the furnace accident?"
"I remember we saved many lives and lost few. Do you remember different?" Thorin's gaze became harsh.
"This is a folly," the disquiet of Fili's voice didn't touch the King.
Thorin's countenance remained impassive. "A folly it will be for me to remain here."
Fili approached and grabbed his uncle's bicep. "You look awful. Tell me what happened, because it is clear that something did." His voice was thankfully hushed.
"The only thing that is happening is your over active imagination my boy. Now buckle up, because ruling Erebor is a far harder task than cutting down orcs, and let me have my fun." Thorin forced a smile upon his dry lips, but his stomach complained.
"You may think you have an advantage over me since you raised me like a father." Fili lingered.
Thorin raised his brow.
"But a son knows his father by heart also. You maybe convincing Dain and Durar that you suddenly took personal interest in this operation, but you are not convincing me. Who did this to you?" Fili's voice filled with anger towards whoever had apparently attacked his uncle.
Thorin felt his eyes welling and he gritted his teeth against the feeling. "Let me handle this my own way."
"Who made you look like a step from death?" Fili hissed.
"Keep your voice down," the cold warning came to flatten Fili's galloping fury.
"Who made you run away from the Mountain so suddenly?" Fili rebuked.
"I am not running away," Thorin rejoined, even though he was doing exactly that.
"Have you seen yourself in a mirror?" Fili frowned.
"Not for many years," Thorin's lips curled up.
"Don't joke!" Fili spat.
"Don't over react!" Thorin reached out and grasped Fili's arm like a vice.
"You are in no condition to go out in a bloody snow storm in order to fight orcs. You are going to die out there and I will never forgive myself for allowing you to leave." Fili's gaze was so devoted and loving that Thorin's heart took a step back on seeing the distress of his boy.
"Don't underestimate me please. Everything is going to be alright." He gave Fili an honest smile.
The boy felt his shoulders deflating, "who can ever underestimate the legendary Oakenshield?"
"Himself and he's the harshest judge of them all." Thorin replied quietly.
Fili inhaled and squared his shoulders towards his uncle once more after that small emotional intermission. "I've seen how distressed you have been with the situation around Eilin."
Thorin tensed.
"Just because I am never saying anything, doesn't mean I don't know what's happening. I am just being discreet." Fili said quietly.
"I know my boy, thank you."
"Seeing you in this deteriorating condition after everything you have been through worries me deeply. I will not allow you to leave alone. I will come with you."
"You are the only one able to rule Erebor in my stead. I've been trying to teach you everything I know at once. I know it might feel overwhelming and the proper way around would have been to study under me for years in order to become efficient, but we don't have this much time. I am overworking you for such occasions as these. You need to take up rule during my absence and also do a good job out of it." Thorin pulled him close and cupped his cheek.
"I don't care being overworked." Fili smiled.
"You have the making of a great ruler. You will not disappoint me" -like I have done to my forefathers, he wished to add, but stopped at the last moment- "Now stop making a big deal out of this."
Fili gritted his teeth and his eyes thinned. "Tell me who made you so miserable! Yesterday you were fine!" He didn't show any signs of relenting in his quest.
Thorin's gaze mellowed up thoughtfully, before he spoke with a hushed tone. "Myself."
Fili frowned unable to find an intelligent answer to that.
"Such are the occasions sometimes when one must take a step back and assess everything with a cool mind. I am not currently so calm, as you have obviously noticed. I need to get out of Erebor before I do things I will regret. You ask what happened. I cannot tell you, but I can assure you that what I am doing now is for the best. Not only for me, but for other people also. Allow me to go slice some orcs and lay your worries to rest. I've been doing this for two hundred years. I am sure I can do it for a couple of hundred more." His voice was calm and collected, no matter the wild thudding of his heart and the hidden wrath that was still ramming at the walls of his soul, trying to bring them down.
Fili scowled in obvious distress. "Your words are meant to quieten me, yet they are doing the exact opposite."
"Trust me to have some vague idea how to handle my cruel side. Have faith in my judgment." Thorin squeezed Fili's arm tight.
The Prince shook his head in denial. "You haven't got a cruel thread in you, what are you talking about?"
Thorin sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "Go inside and take over, please. Enough talking."
It took his nephew several moments to reply, "I'll wake up Dwalin. He needs to come with you."
"Dwalin needs to remain by your side, as is Balin. They belong to Erebor, not on the road now. I have Dain and Durar. More than able commanders, don't you agree?" Thorin struggled to make himself smile one more time. It looked and felt fake.
"What shall I tell mother about your sudden departure?"
"Exactly what happened. I am taking command of this military operation. It's self explanatory really," Thorin's lips turned down. He finally gave up on trying to look pleasant for his boy.
"To Eilin?" Fili whispered.
Thorin paled and Fili noticed, "the same. You say the same." Then before his nephew found a new thread to pull out in order to get to the truth, Thorin turned and spoke to Dain.
"Get me a war ram."
"You won't use your horse my lord?" Durar looked at him confused.
"I want to be on par with my men, commander." He replied with a tight jawline.
Durar's face seemed immensely pleased as Dain brought over the best war ram they owned. A black beast that seemed to exhale fire from it's flaring nostrils. The moment Thorin's fingers twisted around the reins the animal calmed down, as if sensing the order of command.
The King mounted and without another word to his nephew he galloped through the blizzard, overlooking his men that were divided into three lines ready to march. Durar and Dain followed him and soon enough they were at the head of the brigade. He gave the signal and they all began the arduous trek to Ered Mithrin through what was the worst snow storm Thorin had ever witnessed. He gave one last look above his shoulder. The gates of Erebor were falling way back. It's fires looked like two faded orange hues of warmth inside this unbearable cold and his eyes softened a little. When he turned around and concentrated on the deserted road ahead his azure stare seemingly had captured those blazing fires and was now spewing them towards the frozen horizon.
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