One would think a modestly attractive young female on a free night and an empty house might have big plans. But here I sit, binge watching Bones off Netflix eating sweet potato triscuits and writing a long ass fanfiction.
Sigh.
It's a marvel how the gents resist.
Important note: Some of you may have gotten an accidental look into the beginning of this chapter at the end of the last chapter. Whoops. Don't be confused, it was a mistake.
12
Wicked Game
Kíli swayed on his platform ever so slightly, watching a vase get passed round and round the room. It was a lovely room really, made of out Blue Mountain stone and decorated with flowers and warm buttery candles. A fire roared from its place in the hollow of the wall, crackling as its flames roasted the boar carcass that was being rotated on a spick. Outside the villa was a courtyard and garden, and beyond that was a maze of houses very much like the venue they were currently in, but smaller and more condensed.
Demetrius was using the dwarves as entertainment, allowing the partygoers to make them dance or play games with them as the pieces. The main attraction was this number game where each of the slaves got a number, anywhere between one and a hundred. Then one hundred numbered papers were put into a vase, where the partygoers could draw from. If they pulled one of the slave's number, they then get to draw a task from a second vase for the dwarf to perform.
Millí had to balance three oranges on her head for thirty seconds. Her pride was only defeated by a warning look from Daren. Gimli had to spread his fingers out on a table while the person who drew his number took a butter knife and stabbed the spaces between his fingers as fast as he could. Kíli's task was to demonstrate an unusual talent. Daren, ever the opportunist, decided it was a good time to show off Kíli's skills with the bow.
Kíli's archery wasn't as good as it used to be, but he was excused because his arrows weren't sharp. In fact, they were nothing but cotton tips that left ink stain on whatever they touched. He remembered training with such things when he was younger, but hadn't actually used any for decades. He hit the watermelon on the dining table and everyone clapped and cheered. He didn't let on that he'd been aiming for the apple in the pig's mouth. They didn't need to know.
There was a growing problem that he was loath to acknowledge. The strain of dancing and stress and shooting was making him weaker by the minute, and sicker. His stomach felt like he'd swallowed a brick that was just waiting to come back up. His head, on the other hand, felt like it'd just been smashed with such a brick. He refused to collapse in front of the merchants, in front of his friends even, knowing that he could lose everything. He still had things to lose.
Cold comforts again.
What I wouldn't give to just sit down for a while…
What I wouldn't give to have Fíli here.
His brother wasn't the overbearing sort, but he was fiercely protective of his family. Kíli's mind kept returning to this one time when they were younger when he was really ill and Fíli was there for him the entire time. Only that time death wasn't imminent, at least not from Kíli's perspective, and he had his family to help him. It had been raining…
"Number forty-six!"
That was Bofur. The man that drew his number was tall with a fiercely cold expression and a spread of gray whiskers to line his sharp jaw.
"Well done, Master Gris," Demetrius chuckled. The man didn't smile back but promptly reached his hand into the hat and drew the task. He read it quickly before crumpling it up and reaching for another. Demetrius opened his mouth to protest, but seemed to think better of it.
Something's wrong.
"That's Gris, Daren's father," Heather's voice was suddenly behind him. Kíli started and craned his neck to look at her. "He's a cold sort of man."
Gris kept pulling papers until he found one he liked. Well, maybe like is too strong a word. One he didn't despise. Bofur squirmed nervously as he thrust the card at Demetrius.
"Ah, well," the man started, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "You do have an acquired taste." Demetrius held up the paper and addressed the eager crowd. "Take the coals from the fire and spread them on the stone. Number forty-six must walk over the coals from one side to another!"
There was some murmuring but mostly excited banter as they set about the task. Bofur had paled a little, but offered an encouraging smile beneath the cover on this mouth. Kíli's heart had clenched the moment he heard the sentence, but looking around there was no way out of it. Artemis stalked the edge of the crowd, staring the dwarves down like they were pieces of meat for him to devour. Heather had retreated into the crowd, still watching Kíli from the distance. Demetrius and Rodney were whispering to each other in rapid, hushed tones. Beneath the cheery masks they wore for the crowd, Kíli could see that they were not pleased.
I suppose no one likes it when someone else plays with their toys and then breaks them.
The crowd parted to allow the coals to be spread across the stone in a long, narrow path. A guard approached to bring Bofur to his task, but paused when the other three dwarves got in his way.
"Go on, fight me for 'im," the man growled, "Gimme a reason to let Gris have 'is was with the lot of ya right here in this room."
Kíli felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Bofur staring at them all with kind, reassuring eyes. As subtly as he could manage, Kíli used his cuffed hands to sign to his friend in iglishmêk.
No, you can't do it.
Bofur caught on.
Don't worry. Have plan.
A sign of mischief reached his eyes and before any of the drugged younger dwarves could stop it, Bofur was taken from them and into the thick of the party. Anxiety began to build in Kíli's chest and set his ears ringing. Demetrius chuckled and waved his hand in the air, "Now, now, we're not looking for a roast. Shorten the path a bit."
Rodney and Tobias took the brooms from the fire pit and swept the coals into a shorter, wider path. Gris did not look pleased, but he remained silent. No one could blame Demetrius for wanted to protect his merchandise.
Bofur was put at the front of the bright orange path as the room fell eerily silent. Bofur stuck his foot out when Gris spoke up, "Remove his boots first, of course."
Bofur's eye darted between Gris and Demetrius until the rotund man shrugged and gestured for Bofur's boots to be taken. Rodney exchanged a look with his father before helping the dwarf with his shoes, as his cuffed hands and sign made it difficult. When his feet were free, Bofur gestured to the gag. Rodney was reluctant, but there was no sign of anything suspicious in the dwarf's eyes so in the end he was free from it.
"I think a man's who gonna burn 'is feet off is entitled to a little drink of water, perhaps?" Bofur asked in a polite tone that barely hinted at his intentions. The guests already liked Bofur for his singing earlier, so someone was quick to hand him a cup and a pitcher. Slaves had to pour their own drinks, after all. Bofur thanked the donor and looked at the grizzly task in front of him. He poured himself a glass of water and chugged it, finishing with a regretful smile.
"Wish it were ale," he admitted to the room. The crowd laughed with him, eager for the relief in the tension. Millí, Gimli, and Kíli exchanged looks amongst one another, their concern becoming overwhelming. A sheen of sweat broke out all over Kíli's body and his hands started to tremble. The dwarves were so distracted that they didn't notice the pair of eyes watching them intently from the crowd.
Bofur poured himself another drink and clutched the pitcher and glass in his hand tightly as he extended his naked foot over the coals once again. The room went silent, save for the faint sound of people breathing. Bofur pulled his foot away, put it back out, and pulled it back in again. Some people laughed nervously at his hesitance, while others seemed too tense to smile. And then Bofur 'accidentally' spilled his glass of water on the coals.
"By my beard! What a fortunate turn of events!" Bofur looked from the freshly cooled embers up to the crowd and smiled widely. "Prepared to be amazed," he warned them with a wink.
Without further ado, Bofur put is foot out and stepped onto the cooled stones. With the pitcher flourished, he let a stream of water pour on the path just ahead of his feet before they landed. It was still hot yes, and Bofur made a show of leaping from foot to foot, but he reached the end just as the pitcher was empty and managed to finish out with a deep and mildly smug bow that was chased with both laughter and applause. When Rodney opened his mouth to say something, Bofur cut in.
"The card said nothing about the coals having to be hot."
Rodney looked to his father, who opened his arms and laughed a great belly laugh. "Now that's what I call ingenuity."
The remaining dwarves let out their held breaths in a collective sigh of relief, finally letting their eyes fall from the coals that were presently steaming and turning black. Kíli's ears were ringing and the blood rushed to his cheeks, sweat dripping down the side of his face.
Oh no.
Bofur was gingerly pulling his shoes back on and the crowd had all but forgotten them as other merchants began to feature their wares. Kíli had worked very hard to keep himself from getting sick, but the stress of Bofur's predicament proved too much. He needed to get his gag off, immediately.
But where could he go? There was nowhere to go.
This is really happening.
He tugged on Millí's sleeve in desperation. She looked at him in confusion, unable to read his frantic gestures until he gave up on her all together and searched for an alternative.
Try to calm down. Calm down.
His eyes fell on a guard and he rushed to him, nearly knocking into one of the guests. At first the man looked furious at the dwarf's approach, but his expression quickly turned to confusion at Kíli's agitated flailing.
"What are you on about?"
He was full out pantomiming throwing up before a firm hand gripped his arm.
"For heaven's sake, come with me." It was Heather. Thank Mahal.
"He can't leave…" the guard said, seeming almost afraid of the woman.
"He's about to get sick. Unless you want to clean up after that, I suggest you let me take him outside."
"I'm assigned to watch him and the female," he argued. Heather shrugged and pulled Kíli away, not turning back. He was grateful that she picked up on his urgency and walked swiftly through the chattering merchants. The guard grabbed Millí by the arm and dragged her close behind them. They breached the ballroom and entered the courtyard, which greeted them with a cool breeze and a clear night sky just as Heather assisted Kíli in undoing the straps on the back of his head. Some excruciating fumbling and a few muttered curses later, Kíli was free of the leather portion of his bond and tore the rag from his mouth himself, promptly keeling over and getting violently ill right in the middle of the rose bed.
Kíli couldn't stop as his abdomen seemed to spasm out of control. He didn't have anything left in his stomach, but his body still kept folding him over in a futile attempt to rid himself of its misery. Eventually the heaving was supplemented with coughing harsh enough to knock Kíli to his knees. His throat burned like the fire of Mahal's forge and his stomach felt like it had been kicked.
I have to calm down.
Kíli forced himself to suck in a deep, shuddering breath that was chased with a few more coughs that he quickly corrected. He simply focused on breathing until he became aware of a hand that had been holding back his hair moving to his shoulder. He looked up to find Millí standing over him with soft and sympathetic eyes. He was too dehydrated to produce tears, but his pained whimper said enough. She knelt down and stroked his back while he succumbed to another coughing fit.
"What's the matter with the brute?" the guard asked Heather. Kíli couldn't hear her answer if she gave one; at the moment he hardly cared if she announced to the world what was really wrong with him. He just wanted a glass of water.
When he finally stopped coughing, his body slumped in exhaustion. His stomach felt like it was twisted into a knot and his head hammered with the speed of his pulse. Millí pulled his head onto her shoulder and patted his back soothingly. Kíli closed his eyes and allowed her to calm him down, suddenly very thankful for the friend he had in Millí. If they ever got out of this he was going to repay her strength somehow.
Millí's fingers left tingling trails on his back until she suddenly froze. Her shackled hands moved from Kíli's back to his own hands, shaking them in an effort to get his attention. He groaned at the idea of being roused and forced himself to look at her. Her brow was drawn in concern and her eyes were wide and perhaps even a little angry. She looked from his eyes to his hands and he eventually followed suit, finally seeing the source of her panic.
Flecks of blood, not a lot but more than enough, covered the palms of his hands and the sleeve of his tunic. He licked his lips and tasted blood there as well, his stomach churning with the revelation.
Durin's beard I can't catch a break.
"What are yer lookin' at?" the guard sneered, suddenly towering over the two dwarves. Kíli tried to draw his arms in to his abdomen, but it was too late. "What's this?" the man stooped down and snagged Kíli's wrist, yanking him up harder than necessary. Millí was on her feet in an instant, ready to fight should he hurt her friend again.
Kíli's survival instinct kicked in and he tried to pry his hand away from the guard, but the combination of drugs and illness made him too weak. The man squinted through the dark, his brow furrowing in the effort.
"I know wha' this is," he muttered, "Lady Heather, look at his nails. They're turnin' black at the bed. That's a sign of Goblin Fever, is it not?"
Kíli's eyes flicked to the tired looking woman who was staring at his captured hand and chewing her lip. Reluctantly she nodded. "I'm surprised you know that. Often people don't."
"Sister caught it years back," he said with a swell of pride, "She's alive and well today because I noticed her nails."
"That's nice." Heather took Kíli's hand from the guard and held them in her own. "It could be dirt and bruising. We've had them outside to clear the footprints and rocks off the roads for days now. Not to mention the orc attack, he could've taken a club to the hand."
"Yeah except fer the part where he murdered the rose garden over there. There's blood on his sleeve too if you look."
Heather chewed her lip again. "Yes…well…well, yes."
"It's a dwarf thing," Kíli rasped. "S'times we have dark nails. Working in mines n'what have you."
Heather's eyes flashed and her grip tightened on his hand. "Is that so?"
"Yes. I have the flu. I can't g'better because, in case you forgot, I'm a slave."
"Oi!" Kíli was yanked back by the hair and swiftly socked in the stomach. "Don't talk to yer superiors with tha' tone."
Kíli would have thought about his transgression if he wasn't suddenly doubled over and dry heaving until his ears rang. Anything the guard had to say fell of deaf ears until he gave up and stepped back in case Kíli's stomach found something to upheave onto his boots.
"He needs some water I think," Heather said, "I'll go get some. Stay here with them. If they get away Demetrius will have your head."
Heather left swiftly, with Kíli still supporting himself on a courtyard statue. Millí had been holding his hair again and was now rubbing circles on his back and staring out at the night.
"Millí," Kíli ground out between ragged breaths, "You sh—"
He was interrupted by the muffled cry of the guard. The dwarves looked to see a lot of blood and a throat that wasn't going to work anymore and the knife-wielder that rendered it incapacitated.
"Artemis?" Kíli squinted to make sure he was seeing correctly. The half-man wiped his knife off in the grass with a grim look on his face.
"Come with me, quickly."
The scout grabbed Millí and Kíli's arms and started to drag them forward until they dug their heels into the dirt. "What are you doing?" Kíli hissed.
"Rescuing you, you half-wit," he retorted, "Now get a move on before that woman comes back."
Millí was trying to say something but it came out in muffled notes. Artemis sighed and turned her around so that he could tear off the buckles holding the gag to her face. She ripped it from her face and pulled the rag from her mouth with a disgusted grunt. She spun around swiftly and shoved him away from her.
"We don't want your help," she spat. Then she grabbed Kíli's arm and began to pull him away.
"You don't know the way out, there's guards everywhere. You have to follow me."
"Keep away from us."
Millí forced Kíli into a run—a clumsy one on account of their feet still behind chained—and entered the first dark alley they came across. Getting out of the villa was going to be difficult, but surely.
"Hey!"
"Shit."
Kíli forced himself from his stupor once more to the sight of two guards rushing towards them. Millí tried to turn around but her feet became tangled in her bonds and she fell. Kíli stooped down and grabbed a rock from the dirt and threw it as hard as he could, hitting one of the men in the ear but not stopping him.
We're in trouble.
But before the guards even reached them, Artemis was there and swiftly dispatched both men with a curved blade. "What did I tell you?" he shouted at them, gesturing to the lifeless bodies on the ground. "That blood's on your hands. Now come with me so that no one else has to die."
The dwarves hesitated, but Artemis didn't give them a choice anymore and took Millí's wrist chains knowing Kíli would follow. They followed the scout though the shadows of the villa as they passed windows, walls, houses and streets alike. Everyone seemed to be at the party besides the night guards lurking at every corner. The scout's career taught him well in the art of avoiding unwanted eyes, and the three managed to slip by the worst of it and into the wine cellar of an empty house.
Artemis released Millí and both her and Kíli sunk to their knees, panting with the exertion that came with running with tied feet. Kíli groaned and pressed his hands against the sides of his pounding head, letting his back fall against the cool stone of the dark cellar.
"Why are you helping us?" Millí pressed, the distrust evident in her tone. Artemis had his eyes trained out the small dusty window but turned to look at her when she spoke.
"I'm half dwarf myself," he told them carefully, "In case you don't remember. I may not have been raised amongst the dwarrow as you have, but I have a sense of pride same as the rest of you." He knelt down and feathered his fingers over Millí's jaw, his eyes both sad and intrigued. Millí flinched, but didn't pull away. Her adrenaline was gone and the placating drugs were still coursing heavily through her system.
"You had such a lovely, creative beard when I first saw you at the market," he told her in a soft tone. "A piece of art. Seeing you without it at the party just…I can handle a lot in my line of work. It's a dark business to be part of. But to take away such a thing, to tear it from your flesh as they did…" Artemis sighed bitterly and tucked a curl behind Millí's ear. "Mankind doesn't understand that sort of thing for a dwarf such as yourself, they don't see the pride and formidability that such a thing represents in a young warrior. Nor the intricacy and beauty it holds for a young lady. Such a tragically rare creature you are to carry both with such tenacity."
"Step away from her," Kíli hissed, uncomfortable with how close he allowed his face to get to Millí's. Artemis' blue eyes flicked to his, grim amusement playing on his features.
"Do you belong to each other then?" he inquired in an unreadable tone. The question took Kíli by surprise. Him and Millí?
"No…we…she and Gim—"
"I don't belong to anybody," she cut over him, her eyes glaring intently at the scout, "Nah him nor Gimli, regardless of what he has to say about it. And certainly not my beard." Artemis looked mildly startled but his eyes gleamed a bit with intrigue. Millí leaned towards him with venom in her voice. "And never, ever you, so I'd keep yer hands a safe distance or next time expect to lose your fingers."
The scout chuckled and put his hands up in surrender, going back to the window. When he was at a comfortable distance, Millí and Kíli helped each other remove the signs from their necks and began picking at the locks on their shackles.
"Confound it all," Millí cursed, giving up on the cuffs around her feet.
"Perhaps a key would be of some service?" Artemis chimed in with a self-righteous grin. They looked to find a small silver key clutched between his two fingers as it caught the moonlight.
"You have one and you didn't unlock us before now?" Kíli growled, getting up to retrieve it himself. The man shrugged and let his smirk widen.
"If I remember correctly I'm supposed to keep my distance."
Kíli scowled and took the key from him. "Thank you."
Once they were free and rubbing the blood back into their wrists, Millí turned her attention to Kíli. "Kee, what was that all about back there? Are you really that sick?"
"Do you think I was faking it or something?" He tried hard to keep his tone from sounding bitter.
She looked sad and brushed his sweaty hair back from his face. "No…I just didn't realize. Kíli, you're coughing up blood, that's serious. We need to get you some help."
"And where are we going to find it?" Kíli responded with a weak smile. "We don't know our way around this part of the mountains. Everyone here knows who we are."
"Well, why didn't you get help before?" she pressed, her worry only slightly tinted with irritation. She was very much like Thorin in that sense.
"The merchants would have killed me Millí," he told her. "You know that. I know that."
She pressed her lips together and ran her hand over his blazing forehead before sliding behind him, braiding his hair back away from his face. "Do…do you really think you have Goblin Fever like that man said?"
The young prince closed his eyes and allowed the feeling of her fingers moving through his hair sooth him. "He's not the first to say so."
He could feel Millí's frown despite not being able to see it. "I'm so sorry Kee. We're going to make it right."
Kíli nodded a little and allowed Millí to finish with his hair, though it took her much longer than it should have. "I can barely see straight," she complained, setting herself down next to Kíli. Artemis examined them a moment before speaking.
"If I go, will you stay here or will you run?"
Kíli looked at his friend and she shrugged. "Where are you going to go?"
"To get food and drink," he smiled, "And clothes. I hate to be the barer or bad news but your uniforms smell awful."
Can't argue with you there.
"We won't run," Kíli answered, "But if we suspect you're up to something, we'll be gone before you know."
The man nodded and left quietly. He was gone a while before Kíli broke the contemplative silence. "We've got to help Gimli and Bofur. We can't just leave them behind."
"I know," Millí agreed, "We have some time on our hands I believe. It may take them a while to realize we're missing."
"We've already been gone an hour, I'm sure they're getting suspicious."
There was no use for it unfortunately. Millí could barely keep her eyes open and Kíli felt like his body had been hollowed out. Some water would have been nice. His throat was so sore.
"Here you are," Artemis declared. "I was beginning to worry you'd leave." He gave them each a mug of something steaming hot and a roll. He also set down two rolls of clothing and retreated to his window. "It's like tea, but stronger. It should wake you two up from that lethargy." They thanked him and downed the bitter liquid without hesitation. The half-man watched them for a moment before taking out his knife to pick at the wood in his bench.
"So you helped us because we're dwarves and you…liked my beard," Millí began, "But before then, you were content to scout for slavers. I'd like to try to understand why."
Then man scoffed and crossed his arms. "It didn't bother me to watch people be cruel to other people," he said simply. "I've seen enough of the malice of mankind to know that everyone deserves the pain they bear. And those who thrive in such a world are simply smarter than the rest. Perhaps their time for suffering will come, perhaps it won't. But they'll deserve it if it does." He looked at the dwarves with a wry grin. "I was fast and needed money. I know very well I might pay for it in the end, but I tend to focus on the present."
The dwarves didn't know what to say to that. They knew he was being completely honest but the small speech left a bad taste in their mouths. Without another word they began to change out of the dirty uniforms and into the new clothing. The pieces he brought them were too large, but they were clean enough. Millí sighed and rubbed the soft trousers. "I don't miss wearing those skirts," she told them, "Not even a little."
Kíli pulled his tunic over his head and rubbed his eyes, feeling the drink starting to seep energy back into his muscles. "We should go now," he said.
"Aye. But how are we going to get to them?"
"Get to who?" Artemis interrupted.
"Our friends," the dark haired dwarf responded. "We're going to rescue them too."
"What?" Artemis shook his head incredulously at them. "I just freed you two after weeks of being held captive and now you want to go back? Do you have any sense of self-preservation at all or have you both entirely lost it?"
"We're not asking you to come with us," Millí responded, getting to her feet. The scout was gaping at them like a caught fish.
"Y-you can't! Have you seen the state you two are in? He can't smell a rose without heaving and you're entirely weaponless! You'll just be caught again," he pointed a finger warningly at them, "And punished. Mark my words you'll be sorry, they'll make sure of that. Gris is rumored to be taking over his son's post as disciplinarian from this point forward."
The dwarves looked at each other and shrugged. "We can't leave them. They'll punish our friends on our behalf."
"If they haven't already," Kíli added.
Artemis closed his mouth and shook his head. "I'm not going to help you. I'm sorry…I just, I will not assist on this fool's errand."
"We already said we're not asking you to," Millí told him. "But thank you. For getting us out, and for the food and clothes. We will go alone from here."
The man shook his head and rubbed his temples. "I'll help you find weapons," he conceded reluctantly, "And get back to the camp. But after that you are on your own."
"Very well, we're in your debt," Kíli allowed.
Even if you are a filthy slaver.
"The camp is this way," Artemis pointed down a long dark path leading to the forest outside of the town. "The courtyard is just around this mill."
Kíli gripped his stolen dagger and nodded. "Do you think they would have taken them back to the camp already?"
Millí opened her mouth to speak when unintelligible shouting echoed over the villa.
The courtyard.
"Best of luck to you then," Artemis said grimly, "This is where I take my leave."
He was gone into the shadows before Millí and Kíli got a chance to respond. A cry of pain rang out, forcing the two dwarves forward with urgency. Before they turned the corner to the courtyard, Kíli reached out and grabbed Millí's arm. "Millí, one thing before we go—"
"Don't ya start professing your undying love for me or something."
He laughed briefly, "No. Just, whoever gets out of this, if not all of us, has to leave and get help. Not stick around and attempt another rescue like this one. Do we agree?"
She nodded curtly and brandished her dagger. "Agreed."
Another cry of pain forced them around the corner to the sight of Gimli and Bofur both bleeding and cast on the cobblestones of the courtyard.
"Where did they go!? You will answer me!"
Gris had a cattail whip and a knotted baton in either hand, circling the dwarves like a fevered wolf.
"We don't know, w'wouldn't tell y'if we did," Gimli slurred, receiving a harsh lash to the side. Upon further inspection, Kíli could see their gags cast on the ground and long forgotten, though their chains were still keeping them restricted. He touched the key in his pocket briefly and assure himself it was there.
"You do nothing for yourself by lying," Demetrius reasoned, "We need to know where they are." Rodney, Daren, and Tobias were also present and looking exceptionally nervous.
"Well then yer wastin' yer time," Bofur informed them. He received a blow from the baton to both shoulders.
"Kíli, come on," Millí urged.
"Okay," he whispered, his heart thundering in his chest. "One, two, three!"
Together Kíli and Millí charged straight into the courtyard with their daggers raised high above their heads. The men looked startled to say the least. Gimli caught on and jumped up, wrapping his chains around Rodney's neck and bringing him down to the ground. Kíli used his element of surprise to slice Gris's hand so that he dropped the club. Ducking under the man's swinging arm, he latched onto Bofur and thrust the key into his hand.
"Undo your chains, now."
Demetrius' face was red as a tomato at the sight of his son on the ground. Tobi was fighting with Millí and Kíli tackled Daren before he was able to launch his attack on Gimli. Bofur freed himself and helped removed the chain from Gimli's feet, as the one on his wrists were still being used as weapons. Bofur also managed to grab Gris's baton and used it to strike its original owner before he was able to get to Kíli and Daren.
"Demetrius ran to get more, let's get out of here!" Bofur shouted. Kíli punched Daren in the temple, smirking as his advisory fell unconscious.
"Fine by me," Millí grunted, slamming Tobi's face into the cobblestone.
Rodney was gasping and wheezing when Gimli released him. He reached out and snagged Millí's ankle as she tried to run, so she spun around and plunged her dagger into his ribs.
"Come on!" she shouted, the shock of what she just did playing across her features. Bofur and Kíli worked together to use Bofur's shackles to secure Gris to a garden statue. The man didn't speak, but his eyes were beyond disconcerting. Gimli and Millí chained the unconscious Tobi and Daren together.
"There's a small river in the forest outside of the village," Kíli informed them as they ran. "According to Artemis we can follow it away from the merchants and back to the Lune Bridge."
"Who's Artemis?" Bofur scoffed. They turned a corner and ran headlong into a guard.
"Wait!"
The man raised his crossbow but never pulled the trigger as Millí flung her dagger, striking him in the throat. They ran passed the body and swallowed their surprise at Millí's aim and ferocity.
She's protecting us, Kíli realized, guilt sinking in. I should be protecting us.
Shouting began not far behind them. Dwarves were very fast over short distances, but this wasn't a short distance. And their legs were tragically short in comparison to those of the guards that were pursuing him.
"Curse these little legs!" Bofur cried, voicing all of their concerns. Kíli's bark of laughter was cut off by the sound of voices growing closer.
"They're there!"
An arrow whizzed by Kíli's head and burrowed itself into the wall of the house in front of him. "Keep your heads down," he shouted.
They rounded another corner, the edge of the forest in plain sight when they ran into yet another guard. Bofur body checked him and both went crashing into the street.
"Bofur quit fooling around and let's move! We're almost there!"
Kíli stumbled to a halt and realized that Bofur was indeed trying to get up, but couldn't. The guard was groaning in pain and his head was bleeding, but the dwarf's face was also contorted in pain. "Millí, take Gimli and run," Kíli commanded. "We'll meet you."
"Kíli, you can't j—"
"It wasn't a question," he cut her off. Gimli's eyelids were drooping and his face was flushed, no doubt succumbing to the drug induced stupor the moment they stopped running. Kíli winced at the voices growing ever closer and ran to Bofur's side.
"What's wrong?"
"M'leg isn't working," he said with a pained smile. But then he reached out and grabbed Kíli's arm in an uncharacteristically firm grip. "I'm serious now lad, and I'm never serious. I'm the oldest here, and I have to look out for you. Get out of here. Now."
"And technically I'm a prince," he argued, "Which means I'm in charge of taking care of you. Now put your arm around my shoulders and lets go."
Bofur didn't argue—probably because he knew that it would just waste more time—but the moment they were up and chasing Millí and Gimli's tails, he let out a pained breath of desperation.
"Yer sick lad, you need to get out of here more than any of the rest of us."
"I'm a sick prince, you're an injured toy merchant…no use in comparing misfortunes."
Millí turned around and smiled at the sight of them still following them when an arrow caught the side of her face.
"Millí!"
It took a moment for them to realize that she was alright, despite the blood running down the side of her neck. The arrowhead had only cut her cheek.
"Run! Come on!"
And suddenly they were out of the village entirely and heading for the trees. Dogs were barking, men were shouting, and arrows were striking the ground around them but nothing, nothing could taint how free they felt. Tired, and yes, short legs thundered underneath them as they put the ground behind.
"Ya hear that lads!?" Bofur shouted joyfully, "That's water!"
Millí whooped and threw a fist into the air as she too heard the sound of the river not far off. They breached the trees when Gimli stumbled and fell to the ground, wheezing for air.
"I can'breathe," he gasped, "I can't see. I jus…" his eyes rolled into the back of his head and then his entire body collapsed. Kíli and Bofur caught up shortly after with Millí slapping the ginger dwarf's face in aggravation.
"Mahal have mercy! Why'd you have to eat so much of that damn food you…you stupid—"
"Millí, we have to keep moving," Kíli said calmly. He looked down to find her shaking hands barely keeping hold on the front of Gimli's tunic. "I'll take him. Just lead the way."
Kíli didn't give her a chance to argue and he slung Gimli over his shoulder with a great heave a grunt of surprise. He couldn't be more than his early forties, how was he this heavy?
The voices were dangerously close, breaking branches and crushing the forest with their massive feet. But no matter how hard he tried, Kíli couldn't support both Bofur and Gimli. He was ashamed, but he wasn't strong enough. Before he could voice his concern, Millí was there taking Bofur's weight.
"Millí…"
"I'm fine," she cut across. The struggled over the terrain and tripped over every root possible. "It's so dark."
Something whistled through the trees and hit its mark with a thwap. Mili collapsed with a cry, Bofur tumbling down with her. Kíli halted again to find Millí trying to tear a bolas from her neck.
Shit.
Kíli tried put Gimli down gently and help Millí but Bofur pushed him away. "I'll get 'er."
Bofur tore the threads from Millí's neck, leaving her coughing and choking. "C'mon lass, move forward."
They were all grounded now it seemed except for Kíli. Millí stumbled forward out of sheer determination, dragging Gimli forward while Kíli tried to help Bofur. They didn't get far when a dark figure appeared in the trees and a cloud of white dust filled the air around them. Dizziness and lethargy set in instantly, and Kíli knew that they were done for.
"Far enough."
It was a guard. It didn't matter what guard or where he came from, but he had a bow and it was drawn. The arrow pointed straight at them. Kíli turned to find Bofur joining Gimli in unconsciousness, and Millí not far behind. They were so close, he could almost feel it.
And then he realized they had found the river. In fact they were on the bank.
Kíli lunged forward, knowing exactly what he had to do.
"Don't move or I'll shoot!"
Kíli put his back to the man and grabbed Millí's face, forcing her to look at him. "Remember, we made a deal."
An arrow struck the ground beside them. Kíli blinked back the darkness clouding his eyes and tried to focus.
Focus on what?
Focus.
Without a word, Kíli grabbed Gimli by the collar and used all his remaining strength to throw him into the white water that was so unbearably close. The moment Gimli disappeared into the water, Kíli smiled sadly at his friend and pushed her as hard as he could, sending Millí into the rapids that would carry her far, far from here.
He reached for Bofur when pain erupted in his shoulder, stretching to his fingertips and down his spine. He didn't need to see the feathered arrow shaft protruding from his back to know what had happened.
No.
He was face down in the mud now, but his fingers were still tangled in Bofur's tunic. He could still do this. With strength he didn't have, Kíli stretched his free hand out and dug it into the muddy bank, dragging him and Bofur forward inch by agonizing inch. The water was so loud and close, he could feel it misting his face. He could feel himself sliding into it, feel its cool depths consuming him, with Bofur at his side.
And then all too suddenly not at his side.
"I don't think so."
Hands that possessed more strength than Kíli could dare to hope for pulled him from the water like a rag doll. The sleeping powder was taking effect and Kíli couldn't make out the face above him at that moment. But he felt it when the arrow was torn from his back. And when a fist connected with is jaw and a boot to his ribs.
"You shouldn't have run," Daren's voice growled, "Mark my words you're gonna pay for it now."
Durin boys can catch no breaks. None. Not a break to be had.
I might overuse the whole 'mark my words' phrase but I care so little it hurts.
Sorry for any bad grammar, again, in a rush to get the chapter out and not proof reading. Had a blast writing it though! Commenters you make the world a sunnier place and I want to both thank you and invite you to now give me a sunburn.
Eh? Eh?
It's a valid metaphorical pun, I work with boats. Also today I almost cut a toad in half with a door by accident. That doesn't relate to anything, I'm just sharing.
*Cautiously sets down cider*
Lord I'm deteriorating fast.
