Sorry for the delay, as usual!
To Obsessed reader (guest): I almost like the how chapter turned out, despite the obvious middle finger I think my computer is giving me, and I'm glad you liked the descriptions as well. I was having an awful time putting thoughts into words, but seems I wasn't completely off the mark! The way Fíli walked into Bilbo's home in the movie was downright awesome, and I for one was sold already then because he really looked like he owned the place – hopefully he will return to his usual self as the story progresses, but then again maybe not. Who knows (except I should hopefully, as the author ...).
To guest (guest): Thank you for that, I'm really glad you like my details. Sometimes I fear I'm rather putting too many descriptions into my writing, so it clutters up and ruins the flow of the story. And of course I shall continue, although rather sporadically as I'm that type of (annoying) writer! Though hopefully I won't have too long between updates (is what I say after almost two weeks between the previous and this chapter), I know how terribly dull it can be to wait for new chapters.
I love rabbits so I don't know what the heck I was thinking with this chapter ...
Please enjoy chapter 7!
When Ravens Fly
Chapter VII: Lingering gazes
The sloped hills evened out into a long stretch of open fields, with only a few rocks protruding through the tall, swaying grass and some scattered patches of trees. Most mere dots in the distance. They had left the old road almost an hour earlier, moving away until the rune-inscribed stones were swallowed in the grass, keeping the contoured ridges of the Lonely Mountain as their guiding beacon to their left. When the sun climbed to its highest point in the sky, baking down on them with unrelenting waves of heat, they came to a halt beneath a large, lone-standing oak.
Its crown of leaves was an intricate web of branches until barely any light filtered through and, instead, a cool shade fell over the Dwarf brothers; dismounting, they each tied their ponies to the roots – massive and gnarled fingers crawling over the earth, securing the tree trunk in its place and a last defense against the ever-changing seasons; ridges of bark, dried greyish brown in the warm Spring weather beneath the sun. Fíli fished out an apple from the saddle-pouch, immediately gaining the undivided attention of his pony. Holding his hand flat, he allowed the pony's muzzle to brush against his gloved hand, soft but insistent lipping at the offered fruit with satisfaction.
With his free hand he rubbed down the length of its neck and stroked the short tufted fur between its twitching ears, feeling the beating pulse slowing as the animal rested in the shade, yet still warm to the touch. They had only ridden for close to four hours, but the clear skies allowed the blazing sun complete reign over the earth below. A bead of sweat traveled down his cheek, disappearing into his braided beard and he wiped the back of his hand across his brow. The armor felt heavy over his shoulders. Fíli knew not to remove the metal plates, even if they weighed him down and were rather useless while hunting; it was bad enough they had left Erebor without a guard, but surely their uncle would have their hides if he knew they had gone without their armors as well.
Fíli's gaze returned to the openness around them.
A breeze swept across the field, fresh with air from the snow covered peak glimmering white in the distance against a cloudless sky. Nature's return had been swift after the dragon's demise, once more reclaiming the lands around the mountain slopes in grass. Flowers bloomed in radiant colors between the green – rosy and scarlet, honey-yellow, violet and blue, no longer kept at bay by the beast's overwhelming presence and ancient malice. Birdsong weaved into the air, something that had not been heard in these parts for nearly two centuries, but now so loud they seemed as if wishing to catch up to lost time.
Their current position was well suited for rabbit hunting. With no real places for the small, quick animals to hide once roused into flight, and the headwind disguising their smell made only stealth and keen eyes a requirement for arrows to hit their mark. He rubbed the pony one more time, scratching between pointed, twitching ears, and then he walked to his brother's side.
Kíli was settling his quiver across his back within easy reach, bow in hand, but looked up at the older Dwarf's approach with a grin.
"Good to go?" The brown haired Dwarf asked.
"Yes," he said. "Same as we always do?"
With a nod as answer, Fíli then slipped away on quiet feet through the tall grass almost reaching above his knees. He was making barely any sound above the whispers of the wind – unnaturally so, compared to the heavy footsteps that would usually follow in the wake of a Dwarf. Of course, their race could never rival the stealth of Hobbits, proven by Bilbo sneaking past a slumbering dragon, but with practice they could move with a quietness suited for hunting wildlife. From the corner of an eye, he saw Kíli move forward until creating some distance to the tree, and then the younger Dwarf settled into a crouched position in the grass; an arrowhead flashed in the gleaming sunlight, now rested against the slack bowstring ready to fly.
Fíli's attention returned to the tall greenery, searching for the slightest movement as he circled around the hunting area. The brothers had often used the tactic when hunting. With Kíli's swift – and deadly – accuracy, he could easily pick off the fleeing animals when they caught scent of the oldest Dwarf. While Fíli preferred setting up traps and snares, as they usually resulted in a bigger catch, the always present call of responsibilities in the back of his mind narrowed their hunt significantly. They could not linger for several days to check on the traps and, as such, were forced to use the simpler tactic.
A small shuffle of brown, peaking through the grass some twenty yards from his position, caught his gaze and he paused.
Crouching, he held up his hand in a motion towards the spot, and saw Kíli stretch the bowstring taut in response.
Continuing further around, attempting to put the rabbit between himself and his brother, his eyes searched for any indication of the animal sensing his presence. It slipped between the grass, pausing ever so often to chew on straws or to sniff the air, its vision obscured by the surrounding green that it used for protection. But – as a strong gust of wind blew – it stiffened to attention. It picked up the unfamiliar scent. Fíli could see the small, black eyes; long ears piqued and twitching to catch any sound. Then the rabbit sprang to life, large feet pounding against the earth as it bolted off across the ground for safety.
But, with the attempted escape from Fíli, it instead became visible to another pair of eyes.
The arrow sung as it carved the air.
With a thunk it hit its mark.
Fíli stepped forward quickly, shortly after finding the small animal laying in the grass. He knelt to pick up the rabbit, pulling it up by the long ears so it dangled limply from his hand; his brother's aim had been true, the arrow killing it immediately. A swift, almost painless death. Footsteps approached through the grass while the oldest Dwarf pulled out the shaft to examine the arrowhead for damages. "It was a nice shot," he stated with a smile.
Kíli appraised the animal with a look of satisfaction. "Told you the rabbits around here were big. If we can get a couple more or so there should be plenty for a stew." Taking the arrow, sliding it back into the quiver with the rest, he furrowed his brow. "Rather, think we can persuade Bombur into making a pie?"
"Only if you let him eat half of it," Fíli responded with a laugh. "But I have my doubts we will find any others around here. They have likely scurried back into hiding. Should we head for the southern fields? Can let the ponies drink before we return to Erebor." They made their way back to the oak tree, and the topic returned to food once more – a subject most Dwarves felt quite passionate about. Even more so if drinking came up during the conversation, something that could rival even their attraction to the crafts and precious stones.
They agreed, in all fairness and with the amount of work put into the entire affair, to split the game in three equal measures in return for one or more meat pies; if the portly Dwarf was to hint at payment, of course, for otherwise there surely would be no reason to bring it up themselves. If Bombur was to make the pies free of charge, then it would only be an insult to insinuate the need for payment. Fíli's pony watched him good-naturedly with large brown eyes, its nostrils flaring slightly when it picked up the scent of blood but remained indifferent as he tied the dead rabbit to the saddle. He proceeded to unfasten the knot, then mounted in one fluid motion despite his armor, and gently tugged the animal into a trot next to Kíli, where he slowed once more.
"If uncle feels a bit cross with us abandoning him, we can bribe our way out with a slice," the dark haired Dwarf said as his brother came up by his side.
"Well, two, perhaps," Fíli added with a wry half-grin. "It highly depends on how persistent the fair ladies have been throughout the day. He is not exactly the embodiment of patience – especially not if they have decided to interrupt his work again." He glanced over his shoulder, looking back towards the solitary peak; a faint haze left the grey stone but a dim shimmer against the skies, a spire of naked rock against unending stretches of blue. He briefly wondered if their sudden, not to mention unannounced, departure would cause more trouble than they had first expected.
Both princes leaving without a word was certainly something to be frowned upon.
His grip around the reins tightened, his left arm aching as fingers curled against the leather strap and a frown marred his features. Fíli looked off, away from his brother, not wishing for the younger Dwarf to see his discomfort; forcing his face to relax and his mind to ignore the stabs of pain, he finally loosened his grasp to some extent. He exhaled slowly.
"Did you by any chance tell anyone where we were going, by the way?" Fíli asked.
"Do you really think I would just up and leave without letting someone know?" Kíli received a pointed look and a raised eyebrow in response. The brunet rolled his eyes, looking out into the distance before speaking again, all the while scratching the back of his head sheepishly. The older Dwarf became increasingly sceptical. "I mentioned our plans briefly, when I inquired about your responsibilities to Balin. If nothing else and they truly require our presence, he can at least keep off any mass searches or general panic."
"Did you mention it, or did he ask?"
Kíli waved his hand dismissively. "Two sides of the same coin, brother."
"I am not sure he would agree with that," Fíli said below his breath, but allowed the issue to rest nonetheless.
The clip-clops of hooves were smothered in the deep, soft earth as the brothers made their way south across the flat and monotonous open lands. Easing their way over slopes and grass fields, their only company came from chirping birds and a soft, ceaseless buzz of bees. The orange-yellow sphere had passed its highest point in the sky before Fíli and Kíli finally came across a suitable location once more, between a natural fence of trees and bushes where they left their ponies. They rested in the shade for some moments, finishing the last of the water, before returning to the hunt.
Fíli tied the three rabbits up next to the one they had killed earlier, amazed and proud of his brother's last shots; the two arrows flew with mere second between, both hitting the swiftly fleeing targets with resounding thuds. He had yet to meet any Dwarf that could truly rival Kíli's skills as an archer. The year had yet to turn to Summer, but the air was stifling, warm, leaving him hot and coated in a thin layer of sweat. The tunic clung to his skin uncomfortably.
He peered into the distance, shielding his gaze with a flat hand, and noticed a glimmer of water barely a narrow line between the green. They had gradually moved closer to the Long Lake, leading the ponies slowly through the plains even though the animals much preferred to rest and nibble away at the fresh patches of grass. They had been undisturbed throughout the hunt and, with a reasonable catch for less than a day's work, were now heading back towards the mountain. Running his fingers through his braided hair, he felt the clear sunlight on his face before finally returning to the saddle.
His brother had continued ahead, keeping a leisurely pace Fíli could easily catch up to, and was moving closer to the serenely quiet, mirroring waters without truly taking control of the reins. Fíli tugged his pony into a canter, a cooling wind brushing against his skin as they picked up speed; tufts of dirt and grass flew from the pony's trampling hooves. He swept past the dark haired Dwarf. The blue hue of the lake changed color as he approached; an almost translucent paleness near the shore, changing to a deep dark as the shallows disappeared into the depths. A dirt road – flattened by both feet, hooves, and wagon wheels, nothing but a yellowy brown trail winding through the green and following the waters – flashed beneath his feet.
The sounds of insects were almost too loud. An ever-present buzz hanging in the air as larvae had hatched in the gentle Spring weather, that had proven especially favorable that year, filling the air with a myriad of life. Stones replaced lush grass; some were barely pebbles crunching below their weight, but there were others of mixed sizes, ranging from a hand to a goblin's head in clutters following the shoreline. Fíli pulled the pony to a slow. A vegetation of bulrushes grew dense along the water's edge, breaking through the blue, but the Dwarf steered his mount to a narrow opening flanked by rocks to the shore.
While the pony lowered its head to drink Fíli slipped off and, with borrowed support against the pony's flank, landed with a heavy thud back onto the ground.
A lone dragonfly caught his attention, zigzagging over the water surface until finally landing on a bulrush nearby. He watched its metallic, paper-thin wings for a moment, ears trained on the sound of hooves from behind. A plop ringing clear made him lift his gaze for a moment; ripples widened some twenty yards out, and he barely managed to spot the silvery green scales of a fish disappearing into the darkness. With Kíli stepping up next to him, the brothers silently turned their attention to the charred ruins in the distance, minds clouded in dark memories and with a heavy air settling over them. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield had helplessly watched the fire engulf the town, the scorching, orange flames piercingly bright through the darkness of night.
They had seen the massive beast fall from the skies, breaking upon the wooden boardwalks and houses.
Never again would Smaug draw breath.
They had received word from the reclaimed city of Dale that many had been lured to the region, following rumors of precious gems and gold resting in the soft muck of the lakebed. Smaug's wrath and vengeance had been swift, deadly, and targeted on the unsuspecting Lake-men; a payment met through death and destruction for the hospitality and assistance they had lent to the thirteen Dwarves and their burglar. From his long lying on the costly bed, the dragon's long belly had become crusted with gems and gold; the precious treasures, with Smaug's decay, now nested within the murky, muddy waters deep below the stillness. A trap, luring those blinded by greed and promises of wealth into a watery grave – for the ancient's blood was like acid on any, be they brave or foolish enough to venture too close.
Fíli crossed his arms over his chest, brow furrowed in thought.
Even in death, Smaug was a lingering plague over the lands of Rhovanion. An ominous dark blotch, a stain they could not remove; its rotting carcass a constant reminder of the suffering brought down onto the humans. "I like gems as much as the next Dwarf," Kíli said with a sigh, "but you cannot be right in the head if you willingly dive into that cesspool of malice."
"If you have nothing to your name I can see why the treasures hold some charm." Fíli responded, giving a half-shrug. A northern wind broke the still surface, creating rippling waves that danced in a sparkle of light. "I am certain the people of Dale will fish through the waters once the blood thins. Whether we will attempt to lay claim to what they may find, I do not know, but perhaps it is wiser to leave both gold and gems where they are now. Treasure coated in dragon blood loses its appeal, I would say."
Long graceful wings flapped twice, loudly and with strength, as a blue-grey heron arched downwards; it swooped low, almost touching the water in a drawn-out glide before pulling back up, dark eyes searching for unaware prey. "I was told they pulled a boy up three days ago. Drowned, trying to wrestle a sapphire loose when the boards gave way under him." The brothers exchanged a look of dismay. "Let us hope they learn with time. Or perhaps they should place a guard," Kíli said and turned away from the lake, hands clasped behind his back; he returned to the ponies, yet Fíli remained still, pondering his brother's words a moment longer and with his gaze slowly moving away from Lake-town, instead looking towards the River Running in the distance.
While his younger brother's intentions stemmed from goodwill, Dale could not afford guards around the dragon's lifeless form; just as it had happened within the quiet halls of Erebor, life had likewise streamed back into the previously abandoned city. Merchants and traders, builders, families – but where coins change hands and trade flourish, there will always follow thieves and misdeeds. Dale's fate had been no different, and the few surviving soldiers were hard at work just keeping the peace and quiet within the narrow and winding stone streets.
He pried his eyes away, quickly following after the brown haired Dwarf.
"Just remember," Fíli spoke while mounting. "What the humans do is not our responsibility."
Kíli nodded, a glum look taking over his features; clearly not satisfied but understanding, they both knew not to meddle in the affairs of humans.
He pulled the reins, guiding his reluctant pony away from its drinking water.
The afternoon was drawing to a close when the princes could once more see the contoured ridges of the gates of Erebor; the first streaks of dark blue and blackish grey creeping over the cloudless sky to the east heralded the arrival of evening. They followed the road, weaving along with every bend and curve of the shore. The still waters became rapid currents when the lake met the river, and even from a distance Fíli could hear the constant roar, loud and deafening. Soon, the road would split into two, one continuing towards the Dwarven stronghold within the Lonely Mountain; the other over a large stone bridge to the rocky hillsides of the western mountain spurs. Taking advantage of the protection provided by nature, the old inhabitants of Lake-town had taken up residence between the mountain ridge and, nestled in a sharp turn of the Celduin, the swift wide waters.
Fíli's steady gaze was focused on his home with a sense of pride.
It would still take them another hour before reaching the gates, yet already from their position he could see the massive walls and bastions, slowly taking shape with the masons' skilled and hard work; it was a breathtaking sight to behold, instilling any Dwarf with great jubilation and any enemy with fear of Erebor's overwhelming might. He was drawn from his thoughts when Kíli, previously slumped in his saddle, rose to attention with an expression of interest. "Speaking of gem hunters," Kíli muttered and nodded his head to the left.
Where the Long Lake met the River Running and the road forked into two, a lone figure stood by the shore. The person – the human, Fíli assumed from the slim frame and narrow shoulders – stood rigid, without a shred of awareness spared on anything but the broken silhouettes of buildings across the waters. "Kíli," he warned with a sigh, but his brother had already strayed from the road and was then approaching in a slow trot. Fíli rolled his eyes in exasperated defeat; then he followed reluctantly, though at a much slower pace.
As they neared, he first noticed the tattered, mud-caked skirt and, peaking out beneath, the shoes down-trotted from many years of use; a stringed instrument was fastened to the woman's back – the wood unfamiliar to him; dark, almost black, as if swallowing the very rays of the sun. It was remarkably beautiful. His brother halted his pony, a smile playing at his lips. "If you consider going out to fish for gems from the beast's belly, I would suggest you did not, lad," Kíli said, his tone a mixture of feigned concern masking the underlying amusement.
The woman flinched at the sound, springing to life at the apparent shock of no longer finding herself alone on the shore, but she remained with her back turned to them.
"I hear his blood is like acid on any who dare touch the waters," Kíli continued. Fíli wondered if she planned to respond, mildly interested though rather impatient about returning to Erebor. His pony danced, tripping from foot to foot as if sensing his mood. Running a hand against her cloaked face, he watched her shoulders square in preparation of facing them. When she finally spoke, he faintly noted the melodious hum to her clear voice, so very suited one making a living from storytelling and songs.
"It was not my intention," she said with hesitation, turning to look at his brother. Hazel eyes, gold-flecked in the shimmering light, widened in surprise at what she saw. She immediately added a "My Lord" with a tilt of her head, polite in the face of what she clearly recognized to be nobility. Fíli's gaze lingered on her fretting hands, then continued over the rest of her features. She looked like she had received quite the beating, with bruises painting half her face blue and yellow, and the dried blood clotted on her split and chapped lips. Ragged and battered, young but tired. However, what truly captivated his attention, a sharp contrast to a minstrel's usual belongings, was the forest green fabric draped around her.
It was undoubtedly Dwarf-made.
Runes in Khuzdul were embroidered around the hem of the cloak – prayers of safe travel. It was something he had never imagined seeing fastened around a human's shoulders. But as Fíli watched her in quiet wonder, brow knotted together, her eyes suddenly flickered past Kíli and onto him; their gazes met, lingered only briefly, before the minstrel broke their eye-contact and looked down, hood covering the brown orbs along with the rest of her bruised face. "Well," Kíli said with uncertainty, clearing his throat and fiddling with the reins in awkward discomfort. "My apologies for the disturbance, Miss, though you should heed my warning."
Fíli pulled his pony into a turn, ready to continue north, yet with his gaze still on the hooded figure.
"No one should wish to see that dragon up close!"
They quickly put a distance between themselves and the woman down the road before settling into a more comfortable trot, following the river once more. Glancing over his shoulder to the motionless figure he noticed she had returned her gaze to Lake-town; the surrounding air was filled with a deeply rooted sorrow, dense and oppressive, and he momentarily felt pity. She was clearly not planning to fish for gems ... She was mourning. With one last, long look at the woman, he then forcefully turned away. "Did you notice the cloak?" He asked instead, discarding the disagreeable observation to the farthest recesses of his mind. A twitch travelled down his arm.
"I was busy digging my foot out of my mouth," Kíli groaned. "Did you notice she was a woman?"
"Was the skirt not a dead giveaway for you?"
Clearly distressed and mortified at the notion of gravely insulting a lady, Fíli could not help the laughter that welled up from within at his brother's predicament, and soon after he was doubled over, struggling for breath while Kíli looked beyond appalled. "It was an honest mistake!" He barked, a furious blush a vivid red on his cheeks; burrowing his face in his hands, he let out a groan before mumbling lowly below his breath. "I wasn't paying attention to her attire ..."
"Surely she did not mind."
"How would you like being called lass?"
Fíli considered the question for a moment, another grin slipping over his lips. "You really did step in it."
The dust-road turned to cobblestones as they drew closer to the gates, and the enclosing quietude was broken by voices, shouts and laughter, and hammers beating down upon metal and stone. They had spent the remaining journey in mild banter – mostly Fíli mocking Kíli – before the conversation turned to the strange Dwarven cloak, and, finally, onto the subject of food. Again. They rode through the gates, eyes quickly adjusting to the dimness within the mountain, and entered the grand entrance hall. Unlike in the morning, when they had set out to hunt, the chamber was now not only full of masons and blacksmiths, but several wagons, riders, and Dwarves flittering about in between each other.
Another convoy had arrived at Erebor.
Leading their ponies around the mesh, the princes managed to grab a stable boy to assist them; Fíli slipped his hermelin-furred cloak back onto his shoulders, closing the gold clasp, and hurriedly smoothed any visible wrinkles on his tunic. He untied the bundled rabbits, waiting for Kíli to join him in the small alcove lined with tall pillars, where they were somewhat out of sight – and, more importantly, out of the way. Breathing deeply, he watched a scribe jotting down the names of the newly arrived families, while several others directed the wagons to their designated quarters accordingly to the Dwarves' professions or businesses.
Blacksmiths and ironworkers were settled near the great forges; tailors, jewel-crafters, merchants and other shopkeepers closer to the marketplaces. If they had any family or relatives already living within the mountain, that, too, was taken into account. All in all the structured mess created a lot of paperwork, though the well-being of their subjects were of great importance and a priority for their uncle, and was therefore handled with great deliberation and thought.
Kíli darted past him.
With no chance to word his confusion, Fíli soon realized exactly what – or who – his brother had made a mad dash to avoid. "Leaving the mountain without a word, without a guard for protection, and without any consideration for exactly how much trouble it creates for others–" A gruff, vexed voice spoke slowly behind him. Staring to where the second Dwarf had disappeared to, grimacing, Fíli slowly turned to greet the Captain of the Guard. "–Tell me, what exactly was of such dire importance?"
"Mister Dwalin," Fíli greeted. "Surely my dear brother explained this to you before excusing himself?"
The balding, muscular warrior gave him a withered look, something that could likely level an orc mid-battle. "No." With arms crossed, he glowered at Fíli with a gaze holding little patience for his pleasantries. "He gave me one look and bolted." Even as he carried the title of Crown prince, the second highest position in the entire kingdom, standing in front of the tall Dwarf – one, who had beaten lessons of combat into him since childhood with fierceness and bruises – Fíli knew when to surrender.
"I was reassured Kíli had spoken of this, but it appears not to be the case." He held up the rabbits. "We went hunting. It was to be a surprise, but the plan was to gift you a delicious meat pie as a token of our appreciation." By leaving him to fend off the dutiful and relentless warrior, Kíli had relinquished his share from the hunt; Fíli pointedly ignored the disbelieving snort, rather choosing to back away slowly, with an ever-present, amicable smile and hands upheld in compliance. "I am terribly sorry about the trouble we caused."
"Where do you think you are going, lad?"
"I have work to do." Fíli did not stop. "Paperwork. Surely I need to greet the new arrivals. Excuse me."