Sorry about the wait, and thanks once again to the reviewers! Especially guests who I can't respond to personally, just know I appreciate it!

Now on to help some people off the proverbial limbs from which they've been hanging.


9

Sleeping Dust

Bifur scratched his chin and stared down at the little doll of sticks he was trying to fashion. He was nearly finished, but couldn't get over the doll's hair. The problem was, in fact, that she had none. He glanced around briefly and smiled as his eyes landed on a tree absolutely oozing with sap. He gathered himself and the doll and went to the tree, applying the sticky goop to the walnut shell serving as the head. Then he pinched some needles off the ground and arranged them on the sap until at last, his little creation had a full head of spiky green hair.

Bifur shifted his hand to scratch his spindly eyebrows. As a brief afterthought, he slid some pitch along the jaw line of the doll and sprinkled some smaller needles from the forest floor over the glue. Satisfied, he smiled down at his dwarrow doll and patted its sticky little head.

"What are ye doin', Bifur?" Oin inquired.

"Doll," he shrugged, thrusting his craft in front of the dwarf's nose.

"Yes, I see that," the elder sighed, "But why, might I ask?"

Bifur shrugged and moved past Oin and over to Brent, who was most assuredly brooding. "For yer girl," he said curtly, once again thrusting the doll at the nose of his intended observer. Brent's eyes crossed momentarily to examine what it was exactly that was being pushed in his face. When he saw it he backed up and looked at the strange dwarf.

"She outgrew dolls ten years ago."

Bifur shrugged and didn't lower the toy.

"She won't play with it, she's too old."

Nothing.

"You wasted your time…"

Brent felt Kendrick's elbow nudge him lightly in the side and sighed, softening his expression and taking the doll.

"Thank you."

Bifur nodded and started to walk off. "You don't speak much, do you Master Bifur?" Kendrick said with endearment. He was a warmer sort than his brother, to be certain. Bifur glanced back at him and shrugged.

"Don' use words where actions will do, laddie," he said before making his way back to the fire.

A fire that was occupied by a fair amount of dwarves also intent on brooding the night away. One of which was Thorin, who had allowed his food to get cold in the chilly air.

"He should've been back by now," Thorin muttered.

Dwalin, who was sitting next to him, grunted in agreement and stood with his axe in hand.

"Should we go lookin' for the lad?" he offered, glaring at the deepening darkness of the trees. Thorin sighed and rubbed his temples. Why couldn't his nephews keep themselves out of trouble for five seconds?

"I want to say we should give him more time to come back himself," he said wearily, "But we all know how well that worked out last time."

Thorin rose to his feet with and took up his sword. "What's going on?" Era asked from across the camp. The moment the dwarves started for their weapons was the moment everyone else knew something was amiss.

"Fíli's been getting firewood for the past hour," Dwalin answered. Those who didn't have their weapons in hand at that point had them now, all looking to Thorin for instruction. All except Brent and his family.

"He's a boy," the man reasoned, "He's probably chasing a rabbit or something for dinner. He'll return."

Thorin ignored the comment and adjusted his boots. "By all means, stay here with the equipment and the ponies, I'll go looking for him." He straightened up and looked out at the sea of faces waiting eagerly for more instruction. "Dwalin and Bifur will accompany me deep into the forest. The rest of you can spread out and search the outskirts of the camp, but don't wander further than fifty paces. I will not have us get separated because my nephews are incapable of staying in one place."

The group nodded their agreement and began to spread out. Thorin turned to Dwalin and Bifur with a set jaw. The latter kept his eyes focused on Thorin while frantically trying to transfer the sticky pitch from his hand to the leg of his pants. Thorin raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, who abandoned his task and gripped his axe with both hands. Thorin withheld a smirk in seeing that part of Bifur's beard was now glued to the hilt of the weapon.

"I'm ready," Bifur offered, branishing his axe to show just how ready he was. Dwalin, who hadn't noticed Bifur's struggle, was looking at Thorin expectantly.

"We'll find him, Thorin," he said with firm assurance. In those words was a promise that both Dwalin and Thorin silently shared. That if anything, or anyone had harmed Fíli, they wouldn't live long enough to regret it. Thorin briefly placed a hand on Dwalin's shoulder before starting towards the section of boulders and saplings Fíli left the camp through.

"Let's be off then."


Fíli had never seen such a sight in all his life, not at any trading festival or back alley he'd ever encountered. In that moment Fíli knew that Thorin's comments about him still being naive were all too true.

Crates and cages lined the sides of the interior, some large and some much too small. In them were birds and beasts of incredible shapes and colors, the likes of which he had only ever seen in books. Colorful glass lanterns cast an eerie glow over the sight as his eyes darted back and forth, unable to comprehend the all that he was seeing.

There was an exceptionally large bird with a stunning plume that had its head tucked under its wings, most uninterested in the intruders. Spider legs of unusual size poking out of holes in wooden crates. Small rodents with owl eyes and strange fur. A small potted tree with limbs that shifted without wind, like impatient fingers.

He recognized very few, like a crate of wolf pups that bore the thick coat of those in Ered Luin. And the silky black birds with intelligent eyes called crebian that were collected in several hanging wire enclosures. The way they looked at him with such human contempt made his skin crawl.

"I don't understand."

Fíli had whispered those words, but the girl he had captive heard them. "Let me go, and I'll explain," she offered breathily. He realized his hold on the knife had gone slack in his surprise, and quickly reaffirmed his grip.

"You'll explain anyway," he told her firmly. She whimpered a little and pressed against him to try and escape the knife.

"We're just…merchants," she struggled. "We specialize…in…exotic cargo."

"You don't have hu—what is that?" Fíli couldn't help but be distracted. There were so many creatures in the wagon. The one that currently had his attention wasn't a creature at all, but a large smooth stone, nearly his height, which was kept in a tall wooden crate with a pile of straw on the bottom. It was black and looked like it was made of marble.

"D-dragon egg," she answered, unable to hide a proud tinge to her voice, "Special order."

There's no way.

The iron cage by his feet rattled, causing him to jump. One look down told him a most unhappy Ironhead Viper was packed into those bars. Suddenly he felt completely ready to be rid of this place.

"You don't have any other captives?" he continued, "Humans? Dwarves?"

"No."

Fíli bit his lip and lessened the pressure of his knife on the fire-haired girl. If his brother wasn't there, he wanted nothing more than to leave. "I'm going to go then," he whispered to her. "I have mistaken you for someone else, it seems."

He slowly moved the knife away and inched his way to the back. The girl turned around and their eyes met, both of them set into momentary shock.

"Wait a second," Fíli started, but the girl came to her senses first.

"Sorry," she piped, just as she reached blindly into the basket beside her and threw a cloud of white powder straight in his face.

Run!

Fíli leapt from the wagon, no longer caring how much noise he made. The powder was clouding his eyes and making him cough, but he forced his legs forward. He didn't dare look back at his shouting pursuers as he made for the trees. He had to hide.

But suddenly one, incredibly rude tree ran straight into him. He stumbled and went around it, only to crash against another. He gripped the trunk, suddenly quite unable to support his own weight.

What is…what is going on?

The world seemed to be tilting and doubling around him and his legs felt like jelly. He felt like jelly. Fíli's face scraped against the rough bark as he slid down his rooted adversary and into a heap on the ground. If there was cause to run, it was long since forgotten. Not that it would be possible, since Fíli was now face down in the brush and pondering if all his bones had left him. Everything was so…muddled.

Someone dug their fingers into Fíli's coat and flipped him over, then gripped his face in their rough hands. "Who are you? A thief? A spy?"

Fíli couldn't summon the energy to open his eyes, though he knew it was bad manners not to make eye contact when someone's speaking.

"I jus…" he slurred, almost unable to get the words out at all. "I jus wan m'brother." With that, Fíli's head flopped lifelessly from the rough hands and he allowed the darkness to consume him entirely.


"This way."

Kíli didn't like the way that Daren had his finger hooked under the collar that still resided around his neck. But as his heart was still pounding with the adrenaline and relief of his close encounter with Heather, he was a little relieved to have someone keeping him on his feet. Roughly two days so far he was unable to keep anything of substance down, so needless to say his legs were a little shaky to stand on.

During his brief encounter with Heather, the caravan must have been travelling rather quickly. They were not far from the village Celylas now, and they seemed to be preparing to stop for the night. Kíli followed Daren back to the wagon, but froze the second it came into full view.

"Mahal…"

The slave wagons had all stopped, and those who were captive were now piled outside of the wagons in lifeless heaps.

"What did you—" Kíli felt like he'd been turned to ice. If there had been anything left in his stomach he would have thrown it up. "Are they dead?!"

Daren scoffed and forced him to the nearest pile, which contained the Aliza's prone form. The man kicked at her arm and it flopped uselessly without any sign of life. But then Kíli saw her eyes flutter behind her lids and he slowly began to realize that the piles were breathing, just in shallow, quiet breaths.

"We've got the flaps up," Tobi called from inside the wagon, "We can start loading them in."

"What are you doing?" Kíli tried again, watching in horror as the wagon cover was pulled back to reveal a deep compartment hidden beneath the initial surface.

"You never wondered how we kept the other captives a secret from you and your friends?" Daren gave him a wry smile and gestured to the compartment. "This is how we get ya hidden."

Upon further inspection, Kíli saw that the low compartment contained dozens of stationary shackles, no doubt for restraining movement if someone should attempt to draw attention to themselves.

That looks very claustrophobic.

Tobi reached out his arms, ready to receive the first victim. Daren huffed and released Kíli's collar before dragging a thin young man from the top of the pile and heaving him over the side of the wagon to the blond boy. With a fair amount of grunts and griping, Tobi dragged the man's dead weight to the back and folded him in half so that his wrists and ankles were fettered to the same point. The captive didn't struggle or show any signs of waking, despite his rough handling.

"You can't possibly keep us all under there."

Tobi and Daren laughed at him. "We can, and have," the blonde boy answered. "Often people don't take well to our trade if you'd believe it, whenever we go through villages we lock all of you up down below and no one's the wiser."

Daren flopped another captive over the edge of the wagon and pursed his lips. "Does get messy though. We don't like to do it when we can avoid it."

Kíli blanched, suddenly wishing that Heather had discovered his fever and killed him on the spot. Nothing could be worse that being shoved under a floor and immobilized for days on end. He shuddered to think of how long the earlier captives were trapped under there when he and the other dwarves were helping guide Demetrius' caravan.

"Why are they drugged then? Where are my friends?" Kíli pressed, his nerves making him antsy. The two men narrowed their eyes at him with dangerous scowls.

"Yer askin' a lot of questions."

"Well I—"

"Ah there he is!" Rodney declared, appearing out of nowhere. His clothing was fancier than usual, sporting a flashy gold and green tunic. "Dwarf of the hour." Rodney squeezed Kíli's shoulders as if they were old friends, making him both confused and oddly comforted. As strange as it sounds, friendly contact was becoming a taboo of late, so kind gestures were a welcome shock even if they derived from a kidnapper. "What do you say we get you cleaned up, laddie?"

Kíli didn't know how to respond, even as Rodney roughed his hair with a massive grin. "Y'know I forget dwarves live longer than we do, you must be significantly older than I am." He turned his smile to his friends, "But I just can't help it! They're so little!" He shook Kíli a little on the word 'little' and then gave him a great laugh. The dwarf could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Oh the fun we have together.

"Come on then, we must start to get you ready for this party." Rodney put his hand on Kíli's shoulder and led him away from the grisly scene he'd just bared witness to. He waited until he was out of Daren's earshot before speaking again.

"What is this party? Where are my friends?"

Rodney seemed surprised Kíli didn't know. "Why, you and your friends are the first dwarves we've had the pleasure of marketing. You are all honored guests at the semi annual Harvest Ball."

"Harvest Ball."

"An event for the top merchants to compare their spoils and trade with one another. This season was dedicated to Ered Luin, so the party will be taking place in Celylas tomorrow afternoon to commemorate the closing of a long and difficult season." Rodney beamed at him and adjusted the hem of his sleeve. "It's the sort of event that makes all this dusty travelling worth it."

"But what—" Kíli's voice trailed off as they passed a cart with a chilling burden. A small iron cage made completely of bars sat amongst the straw, completely exposed to the elements and easy to see from all angles. Inside was the most unfortunate man Kíli had ever seen, cramped with is knees to his chin and his arms folded into his sides. He was shirtless which clearly displaying the multiple lacerations on his back, and his body was covered in dirt in a way that would suggest it was thrown at him.

"Ah, that there is Ire. He was the one to shout and set all of you off at the orc attack. We decided he needed to be reminded of his place." Rodney tightened his lips in distaste and sighed. "Such a shame. You know, we had to punish someone, butwe couldn't whip all of you. Not when it's logical to try to escape. In fact I think we'd be more concerned if you didn't," the boy chuckled, "We'd be scared something was wrong in the head with the lot of you."

It was that moment that Kíli could see that Rodney was truly and impossibly blind to the truth of his livelihood. He talked to Kíli as if he weren't a slave, as if he were a friend in fact, yet he would turn the other way if someone locked him in a tied him down and whipped him.

Money, it seems, can buy a lot of denial.

Kíli shivered, looking at the caged man in pity. Rodney noticed his discomfort and led him forward. "Not all of this can be fun and games I suppose." The ginger boy looked to the sky and frowned at the looming storm clouds to the north. "I hope it doesn't rain on us. I hate damp parties."

They stopped outside of a tent that was glowing with lanterns. "What now?" Kíli asked. He still didn't know fully what was going on. Honestly his head was killing him and he really just wanted to lie down.

"Now, little dwarf, we make you look fit for a king."

Kíli swallowed hard, wincing at still present pain in his throat. Fit for a king. He couldn't help but think on his uncle in that moment, how much he wished he were with him. To tell him what to do and to fight by his side. The one and only true king he'd ever follow.

Rodney prodded him inside, where Millí, Bofur, and Gimli were all tied down to chairs with their heads drooping lifelessly on their necks. A woman was behind the lifeless Gimli, braiding his hair in a peculiar fashion.

"What's all this?" Rodney asked, seeming as surprised at the sight as Kíli.

"They wouldn't shut up and stop fighting me on it," she shrugged, "So I put them to sleep." She eyed Kíli with venom and then turned her dark eyes back to Rodney. "Get a head start on that one, if you would."

"Do you have the sleeping dust?"

The woman shook her head, not seeming to care about Kíli's growing panic. Rodney sighed next to him and patted his head.

"Apologies."

The blow came so quickly; Kíli's world was black before he hit the ground.


"Fíli!...Fili!"

Though he wanted to deny it, panic was beginning to creep over Thorin as they scoured the land for his nephew. They found a path, but it was erratic and difficult to follow. Unfortunately Thorin had taught his kin how to travel undetected, so Fíli naturally walked with discretion.

Another thing he hadn't accounted for was the rain. It had started shortly after they entered the woods. It wasn't pouring, but it certainly wasn't sprinkling. It just made everything damp and cold and washed away what little evidence left of Fíli that they desperately needed. It was a blessing to have Bifur and Dwalin, both of whom were hearty and steadfast even as the rain dripped down their backs, continuing to call for the young prince until their throats were raw.

"FILI!" Dwalin's voice broke that time, his throat aching for rest. Under his breath Thorin heard him mutter, "I swear if he's not injured when we find him, he's goin' to be."

"Agreed," Bifur contributed.

"We just sent him for firewood, I don't understand how he could've gone so far," Thorin sighed. The rain ran down his face and stung his eyes, adding to his exasperation.

"Maybe he just got lost and decided it was better to stay put where he was than wander in the night," Dwalin suggested, "Especially with the rain."

Thorin ground his teeth but said nothing. He didn't like it, and he could tell from the warrior's tone that Dwalin didn't like it either. Something was most assuredly wrong, but he could not think of what. These parts of the mountains were not known to have goblins or orcs and the next village resided beyond the bridge over Lune, so the possibility of bandits was slim. There were wolves and bears, but Fíli knew how to handle such creatures, and they would have heard an attack.

Thunder cracked the air like a whip, and the heavens opened. The rain fell so hard that the trio could hardly see one another though they stood only a few paces apart.

"Thorin, we can't stay out in this," Bifur shouted over the sudden rage of the storm. The wind assaulted them with chilled ferocity, thrashing their exposed skin with newly formed hailstones. Thorin wanted to oppose Bifur, he truly did, but he could barely justify his reasons with the storm so bent on disrupting them.

"Fíli's out here somewhere," he called in return. "We can't just leave him!"

"Perhaps the others have found him? They have no way of letting us know."

Thorin sighed and nodded, not that the others could see him properly. He couldn't risk their lives for his responsibility; he would have to search alone. "We will return," he conceded. Upon those words the three dwarves began to make their way back to the camp with heavy hearts. Even if Fíli was unharmed, it didn't feel right to leave him in the wilderness to deal with the storm on his own. They agreed, at least, to take a different path back to the camp in case they found sign of Fíli. But for now it seemed they would have to have faith in the young dwarf.

"Thorin, look!"

Dwalin stopped the three of them short, stooping down to retrieve something from the ground. His muddy prize was nothing less than Fíli's axe, carelessly discarded on the ground. It didn't take long to spot the felled tree that had also been abandoned.

"What in Durin's name must have been running through his head?" Thorin hissed, taking the axe from his companion. How could he just throw his axe away?

"There's tracks," Bifur noted, tracing the path with his finger. "He was running."

"I see them," Thorin agreed, "It will be a difficult journey with this rain, but we will follow them."

The two others nodded and brandished their weapons with new energy. Their lamp flickered dimly against the rain and night sky, weakly illuminating the tracks Fíli had left in the impressionable forest. It took them longer than they would have liked, but they were making progress. One of Fíli's throwing daggers was also found along their way, no doubt having fallen out in his hurry. But what was he running towards?

Or worse, what was he running from?

An hour passed before the three dwarves happened upon the mountain pass and froze, Fíli's tracks conjoining with something they didn't expect.

"Look," Bifur grunted, pointing to the ground. Hooves and wheels left marks all along the path, not fully washed away by the deluge.

"Fíli must have…he must have found them," Thorin declared in a soft voice. He didn't stop to make sure the others were following him as he followed Fíli's tracks up the path. It was harder now to find them in the fray of other marks, but fortunately his boots bore the same symbol as Kíli's. Thorin managed to retrace his nephew's journey before suddenly his boot prints stopped all together.

"This doesn't make any sense," he ground out, "We've been following a different caravan than whoever left these marks. Yet it seems that…Fíli is with them. His tracks end here abruptly. I think he must have climbed into a wagon."

"These are fresh tracks Thorin," Dwalin said, "We could go after them and intercept the bastards before they even reach the bridge."

Thorin's heart began to pulse with his rage. Thunder clapped overhead and lighting struck the nearby trees, but he took no notice. Those fiends, whoever they were, now had his nephew. The one he thought he could trust to be responsible. Now both of his younger kin were gone, and he wouldn't stand for it.

"We'll mark the trees so we can find the path again," Thorin commanded, storming back in the direction of the camp. "We return to the company and prepare to fight. Whoever has Fíli will regret the day they set hand on a Durin."

They'll regret it with til' the last breath leaves their body.