-Tidings, readers; I've been making pen sketches from different scenes in this story and will start posting them for you guys to see.

-Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you're the best for real.

-"Lia" is pronounced Ly – ah. Not Leah.

Happy reading!


10

Rude Awakenings

"Kíli, c'mon. Wake up laddie."

No.

It felt like Kíli's head was being split in half. A calloused hand pressed itself to his forehead and then withdrew. Someone muttered. The world was composed of fuzzy shadows beyond his eyelids and grating noises he imagined were voices.

"Kíli. Open your eyes right now."

The young dwarf swatted blindly at the hands trying to wake him. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Sleeping is painless. He liked it. He wanted to stay there.

When the insistent prodding didn't cease, the prince conceded with a loud groan. "What is it?" he muttered, squinting to adjust his eyes. "Where are we?"

The small room around him was composed of blue stone bricks with ivy weaving in and out of the crevices. The roof consisted of cool gray shingles, like slabs of wet clay. It wasn't an artfully put together place, but it was nicer than most of what Kíli had seen in the past week or so. It even had a window, though it was a thin cut in the wall, too high and too narrow to fit through.

With him were Gimli, Bofur, and Millí. Gimli was sulking in a corner while Millí was seated nearby, no doubt one of the bossy voices that had been forcing him awake. Bofur was sitting right beside his head with his brows pinched in concern.

"Bofur…Millí, Gimli. What are we wearing?"

All of the male dwarves were in slate gray tunics with simple trims and long sleeves, along with loose dark gray pants that were bound with chords around their ankles. Their shoes consisted of a flat sole that was bound to their feet with the same chords that bound the bottom half of their pants. Their hair had been braided out of their faces and secured with rawhide string, while their beards were trimmed down into unobtrusive, clean lines. That's probably why Gimli was sulking, Kíli realized, they'd reduced his beard to a fraction of it's former glory. He was suddenly glad that archers didn't have cause to be attached to facial hair. Less that their captors could take away from him.

Millí looked lovely in a mankind respect, though very peculiar to her friends who had known her for her entire life. Her face was as smooth as if there'd never been a beard there at all, and Kíli wondered idly if they had to tear it out to avoid her getting whiskers. Her hair was braided down her back in an intricate pattern so that the curls could not escape. As far as clothing, she had been given a matching slate gray dress that managed to fit the stout and muscular figure that human women were not expected to have. It had long sleeves and two skirts, the underskirt matching the dark gray of the boy's trousers.

"We woke up like this," Millí explained. "That woman threw some powder at us and next thing we knew, we were in this room."

Kíli's eyes scanned the walls until they landed on a green door with a heavy lock. "I already tried it," she told him, reading his thoughts, "It won't budge." She held up her bruised hand as evidence.

"Did we…did they sell us?" Kíli tried, still very disoriented.

"I don't think so," Bofur responded, "I believe this has to do with that party they've been going on about."

The moments leading up to his presence in the room came flooding back to Kíli then. "The Harvest Ball," he contributed.

"That's the one."

"That's tonight, I'm assuming."

"Yes."

"…Charming."

"Can you sit up?" Bofur asked eventually. "You've got quite an egg on yer head." Kíli nodded and pushed himself up, ironing his face so that his friends wouldn't see the amount of pain he was suddenly in. In addition to his migraine, a wave of nausea hit him like mace causing a cool sweat to break out over his forehead.

"It's hot in here," he noted, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Suddenly he felt desperate for air, cool air. And space. Why did everyone have to breath so much?

"Are you alright?"

Kíli leaned his head back on the cool stones and tugged at his shirt. "M'fine. It's just stuffy, that's all."

His friends eyed him warily for a moment, but when he didn't speak further they turned away one by one. He was grateful for that. He wouldn't burden them any further with his own illness. After all, they had other problems.

The first of such problems wasn't a problem at all. Food was eventually delivered to them in both quantity and quality that they hadn't seen for a long time. Not even back home was such a spread casually presented.

Gimli, Millí, and Bofur scoffed it down with unapologetic fervor, barely managing to contain the groans of pleasure that only a fat, golden turkey could deliver. They shoved entire potatoes in their mouths without battling an eye, ripped the crusts from the bread with their teeth, and drowned themselves in honey water until it ran down their nice clean clothes. All the things Kíli would have done if he didn't feel like he might throw up on the lot of them. At Bofur's insistence, he took a plain dinner roll and a cup of the honey water to pick at and pretend to enjoy whenever one of his companions paused their feverish consumption to breathe.

So really, first problem was a problem for Kíli alone. Everyone else seemed pretty enthusiastic about it.

The second problem was the bellyaches that resulted from the first problem. Kíli tried not to feel smug as his companions sprawled out and groaned about their inability to move. Or breathe, for that matter. At least he no longer suffered alone.

The third came an hour later in the form of a rotund Demetrius sporting a green and gold ensemble to match Rodney's the previous night. How he fit through the door was beyond where Kíli's imagination was willing to venture.

"Glad to see you enjoyed your feast!" the man chuckled heartily. Four dwarves scowling up at him at once and he still smiled as if the world was made of cake. It helped to have two armed guards ready to skewer anyone who tried to attack him, no doubt. "It's time to come upstairs now, the guests await."

Before they could respond, several nameless henchmen strode in and pulled them roughly to their feet. They didn't protest as their feet were shackled and numbered signs were hung around their necks. They would've fought, truly, but somehow they were all finding it quite impossible to get their brains to work properly. Kíli, having eaten the least, understood what happened regardless of his ability to function physically.

They drugged us. Again.

He would've wondered how they could all be so stupid, but the answer was simple. They were deprived of proper food and water so their judgment had been clouded, and considering to comma-like sleep the other captives had been reduced to, he knew these merchants had access to powerful drugs. Maybe they've been drugged this whole time? Maybe…

Kíli caught himself about to drool and snapped out of it. He could still think, he just couldn't get his body to react quickly to his commands. If he was careful and kept his wits about him, the drug may not affect him much at all.

"What are you…going to…do to us?" he ground out, forcing his speech not to slur. The leader looked at him with a patronizing expression and nodded to the men that were holding them.

"That reminds me, thank you master dwarf." There was a flurry of movement and suddenly Kíli felt something bitter get shoved into his mouth. He gagged and strained to get away, but it was no use against his holders. They did some sort of strap behind his head so tightly that Kíli could no longer breath except through his nose. One look at his friends told him that they'd all been muzzled by a fitted leather gag and that the thing inside of his mouth was probably a large, wadded up rag. The bitterness was the taste of soap.

Well, at least they're clean.

Kíli did not, would not, think about what would happen if he got sick during the party. Embarrassing the merchants was one thing, but this contraption on his face would more than likely force him to suffocate should such an unfortunate event arise.

Gimli and Millí looked miserable, so Kíli did his best to smile at them. The hope was that they'd be able to tell he was smiling even though the bottom half of his face was covered, but if they noticed they didn't seem to return the gesture. It was Bofur who have his arm a quick squeeze of support, just as they were led from the room and into a dark and unfamiliar hallway.

"I don't think I have to remind you," Demetrius began in his signature cheery tone, "What will happen to both you and your friends should you disobey us tonight, am I correct?" He didn't turn around to see if they'd nodded. "Good."

Those were his last words before ushering them into a brightly lit grand hall packed with people dressed in every color under the sun. Those who noticed them enter cheered and clapped, spilling wine and whatever else they were drinking from their glasses as they did so. Millí rolled her eyes, despite the stern look her guard was giving her.

"The dwarves are here!" someone in the crowd exclaimed. It was met with giggling and more clapping from people too far into the fray for the Kíli to be able to see him. He felt like he was being paraded like a pony at an auction, and clenched his hands into fists to tame his unease.

"They're so small!"

"Aw, look at them!"

What Kíli wouldn't do to have the gag out of his mouth at that moment. Demetrius waved happily to the crowds and led the dwarves to a small platform at the back side of the room, where they were lined up and told to stand there silently until instructed otherwise. They slowly realized that for at least a little while, they were simply there as baubles of Demetrius' spoils for the partygoers to admire. Drunk fingers poked and prodded them, Millí more than once having to kick the shin of a cheeky observer.

They weren't the only ones there either. Some displayed highlights in their food trade, spices, clothing, art, and pottery. Small contributions to the décor of the room, really. Slaves from a different merchant were lined up against the other walls with orange tunics and tired eyes.

One of Kíli's visitors was no other than Heather herself, the healer who'd nearly discovered his affliction the night before. She was dressed in fancier clothing now and her hair done in braided plates. She spotted him on the platform and made her way to him immediately.

"You don't look much better," she told him, knowing she's receive no answer. Suddenly her hands were on his face and running down to his neck. She didn't smell like she was drunk, but her proximity to Kíli's face and the way she was caressing him made him think otherwise.

"You should be resting," she told him finally, dropping her hands and scowling at his face. Her eyes flitted briefly to his hands, which the dwarf did his best to hide.

As if I have a choice.

He'd been so caught up with Heather, however, that he hadn't seen Artemis approach Millí from the crowd. The supposed half-dwarf, half-man turned scout wore an expression of nothing short of disbelief. His eyes were transfixed on the blonde dwarf unblinkingly as his hand raised to touch the edge of her jaw. Gimli shifted uncomfortably, but stopped with one icy glare from Kíli.

Don't get us killed, he tried to convey.

Artemis sighed and when he spoke, his voice was smooth and void of the obvious shock afflicting him. "Oh my dear," he cooed, "What happened to your beard?"


Fíli came to as the wagon thumped heavily over a ditch in the road. Lanterns swung and creaked and something made a flustered noise like ruffling feathers. Rain thundered against the fabric, making the air cold and soggy. He blinked, trying to adjust to the dim, jewel toned lighting.

What…happened?

The world took its sweet time coming into full focus, content to remain a colorful haze for as long as possible. But when his eyes finally cleared, Fíli wished they hadn't.

He was in the back of the strange wagon, eye level with the caged Ironhead Viper and various other oddities. His eyes floated over them as he struggled to make his head to work, finally landing on the creature chained to the beam perpendicular to him. It was the large bird he'd observed earlier, with the impressive plume and the stifling indifference. But now that it had untucked its head, he could see it was an even stranger creature than he'd imagined.

Whatever she was, a bird no longer seemed fitting. Her feathers were some shade of pale blue that he couldn't identify in the tinted light, with touches of dark brown and white collecting at the edges of her wings. Her tail and chest revealed a collection of white feathers with brown flecks speckling the plume. All of that was beautiful for a bird, but not unnatural.

What made her strange was the fact that she looked rather human under the feathering. Her form was tall, even if it was crumpled to accommodate the space allowed to her. Her legs—though covered in feathers—looked like that of the women in mankind, but longer and thinner with steely muscles. Her torso bore evidence of a human inspiration, though she had wings where arms might be. Her neck was longer than that of a human and her facial features were sharp, painted with tiny silky feathers. The resemblance to a woman ended at her jawline; with her flat, beaklike nose that encompassed her mouth and most of her chin. A set of large, almond shaped eyes were set far apart and slanted like large gems in an elaborate feathered mask.

Frightening dilated pupils set in an icy blue iris flitted to glare at him. The depth of the inky black frightened him, and instinctually Fíli tried to back away. But he couldn't, as he found his hands and legs shackled to the frame behind him. That managed to distract him from his bizarre companion, testing the strength of the bonds and the beam they were attached to. His eyes searched for a solution and landed on the shackled ankles of the bird creature, the feathers and skin worn and scabbed from the ill-fitting metal.

"Does that hurt?" Fíli asked sympathetically, forcing himself not to cringe away from the intense darkness of the creature's eyes. The pupils dilated when he looked into them, as if they were trying to reach out and claim him into their obscurity. It was all rather…disconcerting.

He didn't know what he expected, for it to open its beak and start speaking fluent Westron, but it didn't. It simply stared. So he used the length of the chain to reach out and adjust them for her—it—whatever, but his hand got as far as his own knee before her beak snapped at his exposed fingers.

The ferocity of her attack made it sound like two swords clashing instead of the gnashing of teeth, and he silently thanked Mahal that he had managed to pull his hand out of range lest he lose it. Her eyes were darkened entirely now, inky black orbs of rage as she stretched her elongated neck towards his face. Fíli backed into the beams behind him, but with all the clutter there was nowhere to move. When he was sufficiently cornered, she opened her beaklike mouth and shrieked at him at an octave seldom heard in nature. Fíli flinched, but did not shy away from her glare.

She has no teeth.

Her pupils began to shrink to their normal size and she retracted slowly, daring him to try again. The light glimmered off the razor sharp edge of her beak and Fíli decided she didn't need teeth anyway.

"Well, if that's how you want to be then fine," he muttered, squirming to get more comfortable in his position against the crates. Whatever was inside of them was scuttling around the interior, making him shiver. He could only imagine what it was, but it was better than being close to the bird woman who clearly didn't like him.

"What did I do?" he whispered to himself after some time, the reality of the situation finally setting in. How could he have been so reckless? Had he not reprimanded his brother countless times for behavior like this, and yet here he was. The prisoner of some bizarre merchants with fire hair. No, not just any merchant.

As if on cue, Yune entered the wagon with her dripping cloak drawn around her shoulders. Fíli glared at her silently, not ready to speak. In reality, she looked just as she did the night of the festival. But now that he knew what she was, she appeared entirely different to him. Someone to be wary of, not someone to get drunk with and run through unfamiliar streets.

She seemed determined to ignore him as well, feeding bits of seed to the crebite in the wire cages above. She polished a spot off the supposed dragon egg, tossed scraps of meat into the holes of the wooden crates, even dropping a mouse to the viper. Fíli was hoping there'd be food for him, despite his poor opinion of the deliverer. But it was a wish not to come true, as another entered the wagon.

"Good, you're awake."

The man was tall and muscled with the same fiery hair that Yune had. His face, however, bore no signs of mirth as hers did. He ducked to avoid hitting his head and made his way straight to the back to tower over Fíli. The dwarf opened his mouth to speak and received a swift kick to the chest.

"Don't speak until spoken to, you wretched git," he spat. "Your little stunt nearly got us killed, y'know that? There's a hoard of goblins livin' in thah mountain there, and all that commotion nearly drew them upon us."

"I didn't…mean to," Fíli ground out. The kick had winded him and his head was still having difficulty with the speed of events. "I'm just looking…for my brother."

"And why would you think to search with us?" the man hissed. "Why go through our things in search of him? Is he a thief like yourself?"

"N-no. No!" I'm doing this all wrong, they don't understand. "He was taken. Some of my friends were taken with him. We were leading merchants with…wagons like yours through the Blue Mountains and one night my brother was just gone. Many people were missing, and we learned that the merchants we helped were slavers. So we've been pursuing them in hopes to rescue our friends. We are not thieves."

"I don't believe you," the man said, though something had changed in his voice. Fíli knew a lie when he heard one, drugged or no. The man crouched down to his eye level. "I think you were trying to steal our wares, and I want returned whatever it was that you took."

"I didn't take anything!" Fíli protested louder this time, "I'm not a thief!"

"He's telling the truth, Tristan," Yune cut in quickly. The boy scowled and looked at her sharply.

"And how would you know?"

"I was there, that's how." Her tone suggested she was used to bickering with this Tristan. Fíli decided they looked like they could be siblings. "He was the one that found his brother's blood on the ground during that festival in Brendor."

"Him?" Tristan's finger jabbed in Fíli's direction. Why were they talking about him as if they had talked about him before? Yune nodded gravely and her eyes flicked to him for the first time since he awoke, full of apology. Tristan turned back to examine Fíli, conflict riddling his features. He sighed and tried to rub the weariness from his face with his hands. "Well that's just…Dammit."

"I know."

What? What do you 'know'?

"If one of you wouldn't mind cuing me in on what's going on, I'd appreciate it," Fíli said in exasperation. Tristan raised his eyebrows at him. "This one's cheeky, isn't he?"

Yune chuckled humorlessly and shrugged. "He's a dwarf."

"I'm right here, you know," the princeling growled, "And I would have you remember that you have me prisoner right now, so I've earned the right to be 'cheeky'."

Tristan let out and loud and bright laugh that startled Fíli. He knew that laugh anywhere, but it belonged to someone else.

"You know the merchants who took my brother," he said in a soft voice, "You're related to them, aren't you? I can see it in your features."

Both Tristan and Yune looked at him in irritation and surprise. "You don't know that for certain," the girl said carefully. "We don't know for certain either."

Alright then, I'll spell it out for you. "His name is Demetrius. You can't miss him, he's the girth of a mountain," Fíli explained, "He has family as well. A daughter and a son I believe. I never met his wife."

The pair said nothing, but the way they were tensed told Fíli he was right. "Please," he implored, "Take me to them. I just want my brother, he's—" Fíli stopped himself. He was about to be reckless again.

You can't trust them, he reasoned. They're akin to Demetrius. They're probably on his side. Nomads. Not to be trusted.

"He's what?"

Fíli shook his head and dropped his eyes to the ground. "He's scared. I can sense it."

Well, he wasn't lying really.

"Lia, I need to talk to you for a moment."

Fíli snapped his eyes to look at Yune. "Your name's Lia?"

She looked guilty a moment and then shrugged, flashing the dimples that had intrigued him in the first place. "Did you expect me to give a real name, knowing now what I do for a living?"

Tristan looked between them a moment before grabbing her arm and steering her out of the wagon.

Fíli felt someone watching him and turned to find the bird creature staring intently at him. "What are you looking at?" he snapped bitterly. Its head cocked to the side ever so slightly, still examining him with its frighteningly dark eyes. He wagged his nose at her in childish anger before pulling his knees to his chest and pouting. Thorin wasn't there to judge him, so what did he care? He was a grown dwarf and he could pout if he wanted to, dammit.

He could hear the pair whispering outside the wagon, but their voices were too muffled to determine what they were saying. The wagon, and all the noises surrounding it, came to a sudden halt. An unfamiliar voice shouted over the thunder and rain, "It's too heavy! We're going to have to wait til' it passes over."

Fíli shivered and tightened his legs to his chest. The weather in the Blue Mountains was usually consistently cold or warm, but the further south they traveled the more sporadic the temperature became.

Hope you're staying warm, brother.

An hour or so passed with the small caravan sitting still, neither Tristan nor Lia coming back to speak with the prince. He soon found himself dozing off again with his head against a crate when Tristan finally breached the entrance once more.

"We can't let you go," he said bluntly, crossing the distance between them swiftly. He placed a simple dinner roll and a piece of jerky in front of the dwarf, accompanied by a steaming mug of something sweet smelling. "It's just honey water," he said, sensing Fíli's distrust, "It's cold outside, and this is hot."

Fíli looked at him skeptically and the young man sighed. "We've already got you tied up, how do we benefit from drugging you now I wonder?"

"You said you can't let me go," the blonde explained, "How do I know you didn't poison it?"

Tristan huffed and took a swig from the mug himself before slamming it down in front of him again. "There, see? It's fine. Now stop being so picky and just eat, you're a prisoner remember."

"Where are you taking me?" Fíli pressed, taking up the piece of jerky with reluctance.

"I don't know. There's a trading epicenter at the Greyflood where we take our wares. I suppose you're now amongst that category."

"You're going to sell me?" Fíli growled with distaste.

"Well I don't like it either, but it's not like you gave us much choice," Tristan rebutted, "We're very secretive with our products. So it's either we get rid of you on the river or we kill you. Which would you prefer?"

Well, that soured things. Fíli chewed his lip in frustration, "Will Demetrius be there as well? With his slaves?"

"He'll be there, we may even cross by him on the path there."

"Then I'll stay with you willingly."

That seemed to stump the merchant momentarily. Fíli simply glared, daring the man to question what he'd said. Regardless of his situation, these people knew how to find Demetrius. They knew where to find Kíli. So he would go with them no matter how uncomfortable he was.

Tristan opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly the wagon about them lurched and shook. Shouting erupted from the outside and an arrow tore through the fabric of their wagon, finding home in the beam just above Fíli's head.

"Attack! We're under attack!"


Uh oh.

Don't worry, the Durin brothers will be crossing paths soon.

Hope you liked it, happy (belated) Fourth of July, and yeah. That's about it. Til next time! Reviews are always appreciated.