Wow…
We're at fifty chapters. That's quite a scary milestone for me if I'm honest, the only other stories I got to fifty chapters kind of dribbled away at this point and died, suffering lousy endings. I am sure this won't happen here due to the amazing support and interest invested in this story by my lovely readers as well as the fact that I am yet to lose interest in the plot myself but still, I look at the words "Chapter Fifty" and think "Eek! It's sooo long!" Never fear, there's still way more to go before the end and I AM NOT SAYING THIS STORY WILL DRIBBLE OUT AND DIE BECAUSE THAT'S NOT HAPPENING but I thought I'd take half a mo to explain why this chapter is kind of a big deal for me –
I have never, ever gotten this far with a story without getting bored and ending it on or before its fiftieth chapter.
This is like the milestone of milestones for me – I never expected to get to fifty chapters, never ever expected to get 180,000 views (ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT'S THE ACTUAL NUMBER EEEEEK!) or 950 REVIEWS! THANK YOU ALL!
I feel like I'm blowing my own trumpet and I apologise, that was not my intent. I'm merely shocked and humbled at the wonderful reception I've received to this little story. (Well, I say little…)
Anyway, rambling over, sorry about that! Forgive any mistakes, I've done so many history essays that I am seeing tsars (I'm not sorry for the pun – I'm exhausted :P) and so my already poor editing may have suffered.
This is a pretty long chapter but it was written in little bits late at night (I feel I can justify writing after 11, revising so late would be silly :P) so I'm sorry if it is a little repetitive maybe? Eek, I don't know.
Read. Enjoy. Review.
Chapter Fifty # What You Deserve #
Storming through the Lonely Mountain after Thorin to investigate the commotion at the gates, Dwalin wondered just what they had done to deserve such treachery and worry. After two days of freedom they still had not found the dwarves that had attacked him and left him tied and incapacitated in his room for so long, nor had they discovered who had stolen from Thorin's room well over a week ago.
Dwalin only prayed that the small company travelling through the winter were alright and untouched by the treachery already poisoning Erebor.
To the warrior's surprise, the cause of the hubbub in the mountain was Beorn standing inside Erebor's halls, flanked by two enormous wolves that each had a stranger – a dwarf – bound to their back.
"Beorn... What brings you to Erebor?" Thorin frowned regally as they strode closer.
"You have been betrayed, Thorin Oakenshield." Beorn said gravely without any preamble.
The king's frown deepened as Dwalin's face became even graver. "What do you mean?"
Beorn stared at Dwalin for a moment as he replied. "A small group of dwarves consorted with orcs to bring about a distraction so that they could abduct and torture Kíli Baggins, lock his companions in my home and burn it to the ground."
The anger boiling through Dwalin's veins suddenly gave way to the cold ice of horror and fear and his words blurted out despite them being Thorin's to say. "What? Are they alive?"
Beorn nodded slowly at Dwalin's frantic demand. "They survived - Bilbo, Fíli, Bofur and Nori are largely unharmed."
"And Kíli?" Thorin's strong voice shook slightly and Dwalin could hear the edge of pleading in his friend's tone.
"He is alive," Beorn sighed heavily. "But I cannot tell you he is unharmed."
Dwalin's heart clenched and Thorin shifted his features into stone. "Tell me everything. Please..."
"Before your kinsmen even reached my borders, orcs were hunting in my lands, looking for 'two dwarven princes'. I warned the travellers and the elves accompanied me in destroying the creatures, leaving the others in my home. Shortly after we departed, the wizard left to look for answers. When I returned my home was ablaze and I was told that Kíli was gone - they had heard him screaming for help but the traitors had barricaded the door and set the house on fire. Luno tore the barricade away and freed your kin shortly before I returned. We put out the blaze, though my home is now naught but ash and rubble, and tracked Kíli through the woods. They had taken him to a cave and tied him hand and foot. Then they beat him." Beorn reached up to the back of one of the wolves, dragging a rather disgruntled, fearful looking dwarf off of the creature's back as Dwalin's stomach churned. "As far as we know this was the only survivor. When asked why they tortured Kíli, this dwarf replied 'why not?'"
The dwarf glared defiantly at Beorn but he did not refute the skin-changer's statements and Dwalin felt his muscles bristling with his barely controlled anger.
Tortured? Kíli? They tortured little Kíli? Oh, don't let the lad be hurt, please Mahal do not let him be severely harmed… When I get my hands on that bastard I swear by the seven kingdoms that I will rip his heart out…
"Where are they now?" Thorin's demand was strong but there was begging in his eyes.
"Taking the first of their back-up routes onwards with the wizard and elves. While he was in a considerable amount of pain the last I saw him, Kíli is still mobile and I believe he will recover quickly from the physical wounds."
"I sense a 'but'…" Dwalin edged and Beorn looked at him intently again before reaching to the back of the other wolf and tearing down another dwarf's corpse, flinging it to the floor.
Dwalin's eyes widened in confusion and growing horror as Beorn sighed. "Does this dwarf look familiar to you, Dwalin son of Fundin?"
For a moment, Dwalin was struck dumb at the sight of the dwarf who bore his hair, his tattoos, his scars, his axes - by Mahal, even his nose!
"Who is this?" Thorin whispered and Beorn glared at the living traitor, who quailed slightly.
"I suggest you tell him what this dwarf's role was."
The traitor glared, fixing Beorn, Thorin and Dwalin in his withering scowl in turn. "I will tell you no-"
"Balder? Balder! That's my brother!"
Dwalin turned as a horrified young dwarf ran over, fear and confusion covering his face. He appeared to be perhaps seventy years old, maybe a little younger, and Dwalin recognised him as one who came with the latest caravan from the Iron Hills.
"What's happening? Oh, Mahal, Balder what did you do?" the young dwarf cried, his eyes wide with shock and worry.
"Seize him!" Thorin ordered to the watching Dori, who quickly grabbed the younger dwarf's arm.
The boy did not complain or even move - his horrified eyes saw only the suddenly pale traitor in Beorn's grip.
"He knows nothing of this." The treacherous dwarf whispered hoarsely, and Thorin glared at him.
"I have no reason to believe you. Dori, Bifur, take him to the Western Dungeons and lock him up. Óin – fetch the weapons needed for an interrogation."
Dwalin instantly recognised Thorin's intent - the Western Dungeons had been deemed unreachable just that morning, so the boy would be then to a secure room - not a jail cell - until they knew whether or not he was guilty by anything other than association. The young dwarf would not be tortured unless they were already certain that he was guilty of a crime grave enough to warrant it, but obviously Balder did not know that, and as the younger dwarf cried out in fear and began to plead his innocence, the traitor in Beorn's grip cried out himself.
"He was not involved; he was not even there when the plans were laid! He knows nothing about this, he is completely innocent! You cannot hurt him - by Mahal, he's only a boy!"
"So is my nephew," Thorin snarled without a hint of mercy. "So I ask you, Balder. Why not?"
Desperation flickered in Balder's eyes and he looked up in defeat. "I will tell you everything if you but let him go, he is innocent, I swear."
"We can believe no words that come from you slimy lips. If we loosen his tongue perhaps we can be surer of the truth from yours."
"Word for word, I will tell you everything we had Aldrick say, I swear!" Balder cried as his brother was dragged away around the corner.
"Start talking. Why does he look like me?" Dwalin growled, and Balder shook.
"Give me your word that you will not harm my brother!"
"We will see what your words are worth first." Thorin said simply, before looking at the growing crowd. "To work!"
Recognising the order the crowd dispersed with whispers and worries and Balder swallowed. "It was Sindri's idea. We wanted to make the prince believe that Dwalin wanted him dead so that we could sway his allegiance to us. We noticed Aldrick looked similar and he could imitate the accent well enough so we hired him..."
"What did you have him do?" Dwalin growled and Balder swallowed.
"Wait!" Aldrick snapped in a perfect imitation of the warrior's voice and the young prince tensed. "I've been informed that my identity is compromised?"
"D-Dwalin?" Kíli whimpered in recognition.
"How did that happen?" Aldrick growled and Einar coughed.
"It was an accident, sir. I assure you, it will not happen again."
"It better not!" Aldrick coughed to cover up the slip in his accent.
"Are you alright, Dwalin?" Balder asked, playing along with the warrior. "You sound a little…off…"
"The snivelling men of Lake-town are plagued with winter illnesses," Aldrick sniffed and shifted slightly, his war-hammer glinting menacingly in the thin slither of moonlight. "I appeared to have…caught something… Let's get back to the matter at hand." Aldrick stared down at the trembling lad on the floor. "What are you staring at?"
"Dwalin?" Kíli repeated weakly, and Balder felt the slightest twinge of sympathy for the young prince, for about half a second.
"You're not stupid, lad, don't pretend to be!" the warrior snapped in disgust, rolling his shoulders in a perfect imitation of Thorin Oakenshield's surly companion. "You know exactly who I am – saying my name over and over isn't going to change anything."
A pathetic, broken, gasping sob escaped Kíli's lips. "B-but why? Dwalin-"
Aldrick's reply was harsh and fierce as he spoke the words he had been paid to say. "Why? Do you have to ask? You are bad for Thorin – for all of us! Treaties with elves, men – bah! It's a disgrace, just as you are. Did you honestly think we accepted the twisted copy of the child we lost? You're a disgrace to the line of Durin!"
Kíli whispered in a heartbroken gasp of a sound. "What about Fíli? Why would you kill Fíli?"
Aldrick sighed heavily. "It's a shame Fíli had to go; he was shaping up into a fine heir before you came along, laddie. I truly loved the lad but alas, sacrifices have to be made to keep us safe – and unaffiliated with lesser races."
"I never meant to ruin anything!" Kíli begged, tears of guilt and pain and grief spilling out of his eyes. "I'm sorry! Dwalin, please-"
"Finish him." Aldrick's voice was cold and final as he turned his back on Kíli.
Einar and Balder took a hold of Kíli's hands and his feet and lifted him clean off the floor, dragging him further back into the cave before dropping him carelessly onto the cold, hard ground.
"Dwalin!" The prince yelled desperately. "Please!"
"Is that all?" Dwalin growled when Balder finished recounting the horrific scene. As far as the warrior was concerned, the traitor standing before him was the only other soul in the room. The presence of his king and companions melted away and Dwalin's whole body trembling with anger, fear and pain as he demanded more information. "What else did that filth say in my voice?"
Balder licked his lips and trembled, though he did not speak
"You tell me what he said or I'll rip your brother's arms out of their sockets!" Dwalin roared furiously.
Balder winced and began to mutter. "He...he said 'Wait! Make sure he suffers – we lost a prince of true value because of him.' And that was all, I swear!"
For a moment Dwalin could not move as Kíli's face swam into his mind, contorted with fear and confusion and pain.
They had used his voice, his face - his identity - to torture one of the most precious souls in the entire world. Kíli thought he had betrayed him; Kíli was hurt by one he thought was Dwalin. The prince's fearful, innocent face swam into Dwalin's mind and he could hear Kíli screaming, pleading with one he believed to be his friend.
"Dwalin! Please!"
With a roar of utter fury, Dwalin lunged and smashed his fist into Balder's face, not even pausing at the dwarf's pained cry or Thorin's call for him to wait. He brought down another punch, though this one landed in the foul traitor's chest and then another and another in a merciless onslaught that saw blow after blow smash into Balder's pathetic body.
The warrior, in all his painful rage, was ever careful to ensure that he did not take the dwarf's consciousness - or his life - as he knew that there was more yet they could learn from the scum, but that did not stop him from causing as much pain to Balder as he possibly could with blunt blows alone.
Dwalin's attack was vicious and unstoppable but eventually Thorin's orders became undeniable.
"Dwalin, stop!"
With one last kick to the dwarf's groin, Dwalin took several steps back to join his king, glaring at the traitor and shaking with fury.
Thorin grabbed his arm and murmured quietly in his ear. "As much as I would love to join you we need him alive – for now. They are my nephews too, you know."
Despite himself Dwalin snorted in bitter amusement and gave a sharp nod, standing back with his arms crossed and observing the choking, bleeding dwarf now sagging in Beorn's hold.
"Glóin, Ori, Bombur - take him to the Eastern Dungeons and see to it he is completely isolated, even from the guards. Remain with him until we arrive." Thorin ordered.
The three dwarves in question nodded and tore Balder out of Beorn's grip. As Dwalin, Balin, Thorin and Beorn disappeared into a nearby council room, situated purposefully close to the doors in case of emergencies, Bombur, Glóin and Ori marched immediately out of the hall with the two older dwarves holding Balder's arms while Ori walked in front of them.
The moment they rounded the corner, the traitor began squirming in the grasp of Glóin and Bombur, though he was weakened, injured, and generally no match for the strength of the two company members. Even so, Ori turned around and narrowed his eyes.
"If you don't stop squirming you're going to find my fist landing somewhere unpleasant." He warned viciously, and the traitor laughed bitterly, gaining confidence now that Beorn, Dwalin and Thorin were out of sight.
"Pah! If I wanted to be threatened by a weakling child – oh, wait, your pretty prince already tried that!" he jeered, spitting blood onto the walkway to punctuate his mocking words. He seemed to be missing several teeth, though due to the warrior's aiming elsewhere the traitor's obnoxiously large nose seemed to have escaped Dwalin's onslaught.
"A weakling child?" Glóin boomed with laughter that Balder may have mistaken for mirth, though Ori recognised the hard, cold fury beneath the strong sound. "You speak to the dwarf that slayed Smaug the Terrible and call him a weakling child?"
"We all heard the story, but I have doubts towards its truth!" Balder spat, glaring at Ori with contempt. "Where is the dragon's corpse, hm? It was already dead, wasn't it? Such a pathetic dwarf as you – a snivelling, worthless scribe – could never defeat a dragon! You simply took credit for what was done by the toll of time!"
At that insult, Ori drew himself to his full (admittedly unimpressive height) and cast his look of deepest loathing on his face. It was not as though others had not expressed their surprise at the young dwarf's victory and he completely understood their reasoning, but this time it was different – this was not about him. Maybe Ori was not the bravest dwarf in Erebor and maybe he was not the strongest, but this worthless scum had hurt his friends and Ori would be damned if he cowered before a traitor.
Once again however, Glóin's mocking laughter beat Ori to a sharp retort. "So you're brainless as well as heartless? Everyone knows that dragons are barely touched by time at all!"
Balder fell silent at that and did not speak until the dungeons came into view. "Wait! You cannot lock me up like this!"
"Watch us." Ori said coldly, retrieving the keys to the dungeon off a nearby hook - the jail had not been used since the reclaiming of the city so the keys had not yet been used at all.
"I am bleeding, I could die!" Balder protested as if he expected the company members to care.
"And why would we care about that?" Glóin demanded.
"Perhaps I have more information!"
Within a second, Glóin's knife was tucked under the traitor's chin. "Do you?"
Balder shut his jaw and Glóin snorted.
"I thought not…"
"I should see a healer!"
"Because you're bleeding?" Ori asked innocently.
"Of course because I'm bleeding, you insolent whelp!" Balder yelled. "By Mahal, you're as bad as that snivelling excuse for a pri-"
Smash!
Balder shrieked in pain as blood began to pour rapidly and excessively from his nose, which Ori's blow had most certainly broken and the young dwarf towered above the cowering traitor, his hands balled into fierce fists.
"Insult me all you will, but do not presume to know a thing about my friends. Kíli's a better dwarf than you could ever be." Ori kept his voice hard and strong, though he did feel a little flutter of strange, fearful excitement in his stomach. This was not like him at all.
"Aye, I'd drink to that!" Glóin growled and he and Bombur tossed Balder into the cell, allowing Ori to lock the doors.
As soon as the door was locked, Balder crawled to the end of the cell, wiping his nose and glaring at his captors, though he did not say another word.
Meanwhile, Thorin, Dwalin and Balin were seeing Beorn out of the mountain, having shared as many details as they could with each other – including the fact that the travellers had truly remained true to their original course with Beorn's claim that they were taking a backup route being slipped in in case of eavesdropping traitors. The skin-changer had rejected their offer of shelter and food, taking only a loaf of bread from them and stating that he needed to return to his home, with as many manners as could be expected of him, before wishing Thorin the best of luck.
"I hope you reach the bottom of this before someone else gets hurt." The skin-changer bowed his head at Thorin, who copied the gesture respectfully.
"As do I. Safe travels, Master Beorn."
Beorn nodded again and stepped out of the gate without another word.
"We should speak to the brother first and see what he knows." Balin suggested as they closed the gate behind Beorn. "That way we'll have something to use against 'Balder', whoever he is. We should also send word to Dain – perhaps he knows who they were."
Agreeing wholeheartedly with his brother but yearning to torture the treacherous fiend some more, Dwalin nodded impatiently. "Whatever we do, let's do it now. There's no point in dilly dallying around and wasting time!"
Thorin nodded, storming out of the room without another word. They met Bifur and Dori outside of the room in which they had secured the younger lad.
"His name's Calder." Dori announced grimly. "And he knows that his brother's done some 'dodgy things' in the past, but he wouldn't tell us anything else."
"Thank you, Dori," Thorin murmured, striding into the room with Dwalin and Balin on his heels.
The young dwarf was pacing at one end of the room but he looked up when they entered, bowing quickly but deeply when he saw Thorin.
"Your highness, I…my brother, please my lord, what has he done?" the young dwarf's begging was as respectful as it could be and his eyes flickered fearfully between the three dwarves standing before him.
"He has committed high treason, among several other crimes." Thorin's voice was hard and cold. "What did you know of this?"
"Me? High treason?" Calder blinked, looking utterly devastated. "I knew nothing, your majesty, I still know nothing! As far as my knowledge of any treachery goes I- I can tell you only that my brother has never held any true love in his heart for the Longbeard clan…"
"But you have, I'm sure." Dwalin sneered icily.
The young dwarf paled. "My lord, I was raised in the Iron Hills and I hold nothing but gratitude, respect and loyalty in my heart in regards to the line of Durin. I swore loyalty to Dain Ironfoot on my sixtieth birthday and I swore loyalty to you, your highness, when I entered this kingdom."
"Where was your brother raised?" Dwalin demanded.
"In a small colony in the Red Mountains." Calder explained.
"You are Ironfists?" Thorin's eyes narrowed and Calder shrank down slightly, though offense sparked in his eyes.
"My parents were and by blood I suppose I am, but I have never really had anything to do with the Ironfist clan – I have always sworn allegiance to the Longbeards."
"So you mean to tell me you knew nothing of your brother's plot to kidnap and torture my sister-son?" Thorin snarled and the lad's eyes opened wide.
"He did what? Oh no, no…" with a groan, Calder ran his hands through his hair before freezing. "Is the prince alright?"
"I am told that he will live." Thorin replied simply, and Dwalin had to admit that he was surprised at the sincerity in the dwarf's worried tone.
"Thank Mahal…" Calder whispered before standing up straighter with an expression of grim resolution on his face. "I do not want to betray my brother, but I understand the severity of what Balder has done, and I will help you, your majesty, in any way that I can!"
In the end, it was not hard at all to retrieve information from Calder, for there was nothing that the young dwarf was not prepared to say. Anything he did say he tried to twist to lessen his brother's guilt, telling of the struggles in the Red Mountains that Calder himself had never known and suggesting that his brother's criminal nature was caused by the pain he had experienced as a child.
However, there was also – unfortunately – very little that Calder did know, and while he gave them the names of his brother's friends, including those that had left the mountain with him, as well as plenty of background information on Balder, they did not gain any clue of the next part of the traitor's plan.
Leaving the brother temporarily in the room under the vigilant guard of Dori and Bifur, Thorin, Balin and Dwalin began to head back down towards the Eastern Dungeons to interrogate Balder properly.
"Do you think this is an Ironfist plot?" Dwalin asked his brother as they stalked down the corridor. "An arrogant, xenophobic lord wanting to conquer Erebor while we're still weak?"
"I suspect that it is only a small group of Ironfists – if they have a lord I doubt he has much power at all." Balin mused. "I do not think the true lords of the Red Mountains would risk open war in such away for a struggling kingdom when the Orocarni are bursting with more minerals and gems than we could ever mine from here."
"That makes sense," Thorin admitted, rubbing his brow. "And it eases my heart to think it is a small group as opposed to an invasion but we must find out as much as we can about these plots before we rule anything out."
Dwalin nodded again, following his brother and king through the hall.
All of a sudden a strong but desperate, feminine call rang out from the hall up ahead – the entrance to the dungeons. "Help, I need some help! Please, someone call the guards!"
Without pausing for even a moment, the king and his oldest friends ran, rounding the corner and meeting a horrific sight.
A young, dark haired lass that Dwalin recognised as the sister of one of the miners from the Iron Hills was leaning over an unconscious Ori, putting pressure on his heavily bleeding side. She ducked her head respectfully upon seeing the king, though she also threw her head over her shoulder to gesture towards the next corridor and began speaking in a very quick, lilting voice.
"Your majesty! Your companions – they're hurt! I just came past to get – well, I was actually a little lost, but that's not important – I heard shouting, there were two others – they ran that way!" she rushed with a hint of panic, tossing her curls over her shoulder impatiently when they began to dangle near Ori's face. "I think they're all breathing and I think only Lord Ori is bleeding!"
Despite his instinct to tear off in the direction in which the girl pointed Dwalin surged past her into the corridor of the dungeons, his heart swooping at the sight of Glóin and Bombur lying crumpled on the floor next to the open door of one of the cells.
"No, no, no!" Dwalin growled, bending over Glóin's body and searching desperately for a pulse, sighing in relief when he found one. If that traitor escaped… Glancing at Balin, who was pressing his fingers against Bombur's neck, Dwalin sprang to his feet and ran to the cell, hoping beyond hope that the treacherous bastard was still there – they were not done with him yet. "Dammit!"
"Is he gone?" Thorin asked frantically from where he was standing before Ori and the bloodied girl.
"In a manner of speaking." Dwalin cursed in Khuzdul so vehemently that the girl looked up in shock, her cheeks quite pink. "His beard's gone, and his tongue – so has his life."
Thorin swore loudly in the same tongue and the girl's cheeks flushed a little brighter beneath the short brown beard that framed her chin rather nicely.
"I'll get the healers and the guard." Balin volunteered, standing up quickly. "I won't be a jiffy. Make sure they keep breathing until I get back!"
Thorin and Dwalin nodded, moving over to their fallen kinsmen.
As he knelt by Glóin's side, Dwalin seriously considered slapping his cousin's face to wake him, though he did not think it would be wise and Óin would probably have a thing or two to say on the matter. Instead, the warrior began his practiced search for the source of Glóin's unconsciousness, quickly discovering a small dart embedded in the back of his cousin's neck.
"They've been poisoned!" he spat, pausing before wrenching the dart out. "Should we wait for the healer or should we get the darts out?"
"I do not know." Thorin admitted with a worried frown as he discovered a similar dart in the side of Bombur's neck. He looked at the girl, who had already begun her own search of Ori's neck.
"There is a dart here, too, my lords." She announced gravelly.
Thorin nodded slowly. "Dwalin, roll Glóin onto his side."
Recognising the king's intent, Dwalin did just that lest Glóin choke on his own vomit – or even his own tongue as Thorin himself rolled Bombur over.
"Where they all unconscious when you arrived?" Thorin demanded and the girl nodded.
"Aye, my lord, though it looked like he had just fallen." She nodded to the dwarf she was tending to, her face tight with worry. "I think the bleeding is slowing…"
Dwalin watched his king nod wearily and snarled. "Well, this is just perfect! Our kinsmen are wounded and our only lead is dead in his cell – wonderful!" The warrior reached out to shake his cousin's shoulders, just in case. "Glóin! Wake up, you great lazy lump!"
Glóin moaned a little at Dwalin's shakes, but other than that he did not react.
With a heavy sigh, Thorin looked at the girl with no small amount of concealed suspicion. "What's your name, lass?"
"Elza, daughter of Aisa, my lord." The girl dipped her head respectfully, causing her dark brown curls to fall once again onto Ori's face. With a most unladylike curse she flipped her hair back over her shoulder and blew furiously at a lock of hair that fell persistently against her nose. When it remained stubbornly in place she rolled her eyes and turned back to Ori, removing one hand from his side to put two fingers up against his neck.
Dwalin relaxed when she seemed to relax, though he had to be sure. "How's he doing, Miss Elza?"
"I believe he will be alright, my lord, but I am no healer. His pulse is strong and I do not think this wound is too deep but I do not really know." She admitted, confidence and worry warring in her voice.
"You appear rather calm for a woman up to her arms in blood." Dwalin commented dryly, earning him a raised eyes glance behind the lass' back from Thorin that was clearly understandable.
Did you really just say that, Dwalin? Even I know that is not the proper way to address a woman.
Dwalin simply glared at Thorin – he was not trying to court the girl, he merely wanted to be sure why she was there. If she was one of the conspirators they would never know – she could even be forcing more blood from Ori's body.
Elza shrugged slightly. "I have five brothers – three in the mines and two in the guards. If I were to go faint at the sight of blood they'd have all bled out long ago."
The thundering of footsteps announced the presence of the guards, healers and Balin, and Thorin and Dwalin instantly stood aside to allow the trained healers to examine their kinsmen. Soon enough Bombur, Ori and Dwalin were laden onto stretchers and being borne to the healing wing, though none of the four healers seemed to think that they were in danger of dying.
Dwalin turned to the girl who was lingering in the corridor as if unsure whether or not she was allowed to depart. "What were you doing in this part of the castle?"
"Searching for my brother." Elza admitted with a hint of embarrassment. "I was looking for the kitchens and took a series of very wrong turns and then I heard the fighting."
"Did you see the attackers?" Dwalin demanded and she frowned with a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry, I did not. I saw only the back of their heads, my lord. I wish I could be of more help."
Dwalin narrowed his eyes slightly. "We've heard a lot of that today…"
Elza's eyes widened, though the first thing to flare in her dark green eyes and sharp tone was pure offense. "I'm sorry that I chose to try and save someone's life instead of chasing after men who may well have killed me too!" All of a sudden she froze, her eyes widening and her cheeks burning as she bowed her head. "Forgive me, my Lord, that was impertinent and inappropriate of me. I allowed my tongue to run away with me and I am sorry. If it would be any help I could probably sketch the backs of their clothes, maybe even one of their axes, though I only caught a glimpse."
"We would appreciate that, thank you." Thorin nodded strongly, though a weariness only Dwalin could see misted his eyes as the day's events began taking its toll on the resilient king.
"Don't apologise for defending yourself if you feel you've got reason to, lass." Dwalin added gruffly. "Where will we find you?"
Elza looked up almost cautiously from underneath her eyelashes, a faint blush lingering on her cheeks. "With my brothers – Dastan is the eldest of all of us and our home is registered under his name. We are in the seventh avenue that has yet been stabilised, my lord."
"Very well, we will send someone for you at noon tomorrow – see to it that you are home." Thorin decreed and the girl curtseyed respectfully.
"Of course, your highness."
"We'll have someone escort you home." Thorin gestured to a nearby guard.
"Thank you my lord." She bowed her head humbly and allowed the guard to lead her away.
After a long moment, Dwalin tore his gaze away from the pool of Ori's blood that lay drying on the floor and strode back over to stare at Balder's mutilated corpse with disgust. "They needed to silence him."
"I do not know what is more infuriating – the knowledge that we would have gotten information from him in the first place or the knowledge that now I may not take his life myself…By Durin, I wish I could…" Thorin swore, shaking his head, putting a hand on Dwalin's shoulder.
"Aye, I completely agree." Dwalin growled.
By the time the sun had fully set, the healers had sent word that Ori, Bombur and Glóin would all recover relatively quickly as the poison should do no further damage, though they were yet to wake up, and that did raise the disturbing question of why those who had murdered Balder – most likely traitors themselves – had not killed the king's close companions.
That Thorin and Dwalin refused to retire for the night surprised none in the company, but as Dwalin stood in Thorin's private drawing room and awaited his king's return from the bathroom he made the mistake of closing his eyes for a moment.
Kíli's face instantly flashed across his mind, contorted in pain and fear and betrayal as he screamed.
"Dwalin, please! Help me, please!"
Dwalin clenched his teeth and suppressed a shudder as a small boy's face came into mind, looking sombrely up at him as he settled himself in the warrior's lap.
"You could never scare me, Mr Dwalin!"
Immediately Kíli's drunk, vigorous confession in Lake-town followed the image of the child he used to be.
"You scare me!"
The first night in Erebor began replaying in front of Dwalin's eyes at a high speed, with Kíli's soft smiles and genuine laughs ringing in Dwalin's ears, only to be replaced by screams of agony.
Imagination is a terrible foe to have when information is lacking, and all sorts of hideous tortures flew through Dwalin's mind, projecting images of Kíli suffering each and every one onto his burning eyelids with a stranger in Dwalin's form being the tormentor every time.
It was bad enough that someone had tortured anyone in Dwalin's innermost circle of family – even within the sphere of the company and his blood kin, there was a tighter circle of Dwalin's closest family (at least according to his heart) and Kíli had always been snuggly encompassed in that circle. If the bastards had hurt Kíli without using his face, Dwalin would still be full of fury, agony and grief for his young prince.
However, they had used his face, and that was a whole new sort of pain for Dwalin.
The warrior had suffered through a difficult childhood given his family's dismal circumstance after the coming of Smaug and therefore he had always known that pain came in many forms. There were countless of types of physical pain, from burns to bruises to broken bones, but Dwalin knew that there was just as much variation in the pain inflicted upon the heart.
Dwalin felt sick to his stomach and guilty – oh, he felt so guilty – that his face had inflicted pain on Kíli.
"Dwalin?" Thorin asked, his hesitant voice drawing Dwalin's head up from the floor. "Are you alright?"
Unable to directly answer his king's question, Dwalin met his oldest friend's eyes. "How long…how long do you think it took for Kíli to believe it was me standing before him?"
"It would have taken much for them to have convinced him." Thorin answered deliberately.
Dwalin shook his head slowly, closing his eyes once more. "I can see his face in my mind… I wish I couldn't imagine what they did to him but I can and his face…"
"Oh believe me, Dwalin, I know!" Thorin's voice broke in the privacy of his friend's company, the pain and the fear of the dwarf king clearly audible to his closest friend. "I wish there was some way not to see it… Will there never be any peace for my family? Are we so cursed that our children may never be safe? Even before this I feared for him Dwalin, constantly!"
"Aye." Dwalin agreed, sighing heavily and opening his eyes. What else could be said to ease the pain of one whose family had lived in a spiral of ruin and desolation for almost two centuries? Dwalin himself could still hear Kíli in his mind, screaming at him for mercy, and he was still being forced to picture the devil who had assumed his identity turning away and breaking Kíli that little bit more. He knew that his king suffered as much as he did and he knew that neither of them ever handled emotions with much delicacy, but he knew that if he did not speak to Thorin he would speak to no one, not even his own brother, and he knew that if he spoke to no one, he would go insane. "I…Thorin, I… They used…they used me to torture him. I cannot… It pains me, beyond belief, to know that I could cause him so much pain. There is so much pain, so much guilt, and I do not know if it will ever leave…"
"If an Ironfist ran in this second and impaled me with Bifur's spear, would Bifur be a murderer?" Thorin asked quietly, after a long moment of silence. "It was not your fault, Dwalin."
"I know it wasn't my fault!" Dwalin protested, feeling as though he appeared as a petulant child and desperate to prove that was not the case. "But that doesn't mean that I did not hurt him. He feared me as recently as Lake-town, he feared me and they used that against him! He's been tortured at my command, and whether or not he knows that I wasn't involved is irrelevant – he will never forget it!"
Again Thorin fell silent for a long moment, before taking a deep breath. "I cannot imagine how I should feel had it been my identity they used… Your pain and anger is justified, Dwalin. I cannot ease your guilt and I am not even truly sure that Kíli can, but I am sure with my whole heart that when next you see him he will do all his power to try."
Dwalin gave a small, pained laugh. "That's him through and through, isn't it? You could beat him down for all eternity and his worst concern would be your wellbeing…It terrifies me, Thorin. People will try to use that against him – they already have! The Shire will not keep him safe, Thorin, not if there are dwarves who want him dead."
"You know that I know that, but what can we do, Dwalin?" Thorin groaned, rubbing his tired eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "We cannot demand his return and I would not force him to sever ties with his home, for that is still the place the Shire holds in his heart."
"I know that." Dwalin nodded, flopping down into a nearby chair. "And it troubles me that there's naught we can do about it… Especially when he dearly needs to be home."
"I would send word to them but I would fear a messenger – raven or no – could be followed." Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, putting a hand on Dwalin's shoulder. "Now, ale first – then hunting traitors?"
Despite himself Dwalin's mouth curled up into an almost-smile. "Definitely…"
I hope you enjoyed that chapter and I hope it wasn't too OOC. Randomplotbunny suggested showing Dwalin's softer side for a part of it and I enjoyed exploring it so I hope it worked. In the next chapter we'll be getting back to our travellers and seeing how they're getting along!
NOTE: Elza referred to Ori as "Lord Ori" - I'm pretty sure it would be safe to refer to all members of the company as Lords due to Thorin granting them such high status after reclaiming the mountain but if that's not the case in canon then we'll just say he's done it in mine :P
However, seeing as how my first exam is on Monday, I likely won't be updating for another awkward pause. I am sorry about this and I swear I'll make it up when exams are over :P Thanks to everyone who has wished me good luck with exams, by the way :) It means a lot - thank you!
Thank you all so much for reading, leave a review if you feel like it! They make me so happy :)
