Hello! Thank you so much for the lovely response last chapter. I wanted to get this up tonight but I really need to go to bed, so I apologise for any typos there may be in this.
If anyone knows the singer Karliene, this song is named after her song Let It End, a brilliant song that fits quite well with some of the stuff going on here.
Read. Enjoy. Review.
Chapter Sixty Six # Let It End #
Rubbing her eyes, fifteen year old Esmeralda Took sat up in bed and wondered why on earth she was awake when the moon was still high in the sky. She yawned loudly and sank back down, snuggling down into the soft downy warmth of her pillow, but a sudden thought struck her and she sat straight up again with a quite gasp. Her hand flew over her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound and she listened carefully, but she could hear no other sound in the house to indicate that she had woken anyone else.
Quietly, oh so quietly, she slid out of bed and grabbed the blankets from her bed, pulling them around her shoulders as she padded across her dark bedroom. As soon as she felt the door before her she reached up to the nearby shelf, standing on her tiptoes to try and retrieve the candlestick that she knew to be above her head. It took her a moment, but she was soon clutching a small candle and looking around for matches impatiently.
Finding none in reach, she finally accepted that she would have to try and retrieve the matchbox on the next shelf up. She sighed in exasperation and snuck across the room to retrieve the little hamper she kept her toys in. Clambering up on top of it, she grabbed the matches with a silent, triumphant smile. She lit the candle.
The heavy rainfall outside was the only noise she could hear as she crept to the top of the stairs. It was very uncommon to find stairs in a hobbit's house, but she was glad for them – they could be great fun. Tonight, however, they were a nuisance, for they had a habit of creaking, and it would not do to be discovered.
It took her a good few minutes to descend, and when she finally reached the floor without waking anyone, she exhaled in relief. A draft swept through the house and she shuddered, pulling the blankets tighter around her neck. Then she headed for the kitchen. There was a gentle light glowing around the door, a warm, orange light that let her know the fire was still smouldering a little in the kitchen fireplace.
Step by silent step, she slowly made her way towards the kitchen, and there he was.
The little dwarfling on the kitchen table.
She placed the candle down on the cabinet and glanced at Cousin Bilbo, who was asleep in a nearby chair. Esme frowned slightly and wondered if it would not have been more comfortable for them both had they let the boy sleep in the spare bedroom or even on one of the comfy sofas.
She stepped closer.
Her mama's sorrowful voice from earlier in the evening rang in her mind and something pricked at her eyes at the thought that the boy might be dead by the time morning came. As she recognised the stinging as tears she gasped sharply and rubbed her eyes several times.
She did not cry. Esmeralda Took did not cry.
She stepped closer.
His skin was so pale, especially with his dark hair there to contrast with it. Esme had never seen a real dwarf before, but she had not expected them to be so small – the dwarfling did not look as though he was much bigger than she was, and she (to her great disgruntlement) was positively tiny. He did not look scary, like the older hobbits promised dwarves would be. He looked defenceless, helpless.
It made Esme feel so small.
Children were not supposed to get so badly hurt. Children were supposed to run and laugh and play and cry and whine and scrape their knees and get splinters in between their toes, but they were not supposed to get so badly hurt that they lie motionless on her mother's kitchen table.
Children were not supposed to look so alone, either.
Her eyes flickered over to her cousin once more and a surge of pity overcame her. Bilbo had lost his parents today, and she had barely even thought about him. He looked alone, too. But he did not look as alone as the dark haired child she saw behind her.
She stepped closer.
Esme wondered if the dwarfling's family were looking for him. She wondered where he came from, what his name was, what games he liked to play. She wondered if he had ever seen a hobbit before. She wondered if he would want to be her friend. She hoped so.
Biting her lip, Esme took a final step closer and knelt down on a nearby chair, her fingers reaching out slowly for the faded fabric of the blankets her brother had brought out for the dwarfling. Paladin had picked the old, spare blankets that had the odd moth hole – probably because they were the only ones not being used already – and something about the way they were crumpled made Esme sad. It looked like no one cared for the child at all.
That's probably because no one does! A horrible, snarky voice remarked in her mind.
She frowned heavily and tried to imagine what it would feel like, lying cold and wet and hurting and alone on a stranger's dining room table in old blankets that probably itched.
And that was when Esmeralda Took made up her mind.
"It's alright," she whispered quietly as she straightened out the blanket over his legs and reached up to tuck them up around his chin. "You're not really alone. I care about you."
A soft gasp escaped her mouth as her hands touched the damp, cold fabric near his face. The boy's soaking hair, skin and clothes must have made the blankets all cold and wet.
She pursed her lips for a moment and then pulled all of the blankets off of the little boy, refusing to allow herself to pause and ogle at the dwarfling's strange clothes. Shoving the old blankets to the floor carelessly, she shrugged off the nice warm blankets she had wrapped around her own neck to keep herself warm.
"It's alright," she repeated in a hushed voice, taking the warmest, softest blanket she had and tucking it snuggly around the boy. "I'll look after you."
The boy's face slowly turned a little towards the side and she froze.
"Can you hear me?"
The boy did not move.
Esmeralda sighed once more and reached around to grab several more blankets, placing each of them over the top of the dwarfling. They did not look that much different from the ones he had been using before, only Esme's blankets were less faded and moth eaten, so she doubted anyone would notice, but she could not bring herself to care.
"You're safe here." She promised almost silently while tucking the topmost blanket under the dwarfling's chin. "But you need a new pillow… Wait right here!"
She dashed out of the room and into the living room, colliding with an armchair in the dark. Wincing, she froze, praying that no one had heard the dull thud. When she heard no other movements, she felt around for the softest cushion she could find, before racing back into the kitchen. The dwarfling was still asleep and she snuck around, gently lifting his head up and pulling out the sodden pillow beneath his head. The comfy cushion was slipped into place and she lowered the boy's head back down, softly patting the boy's hair twice.
"That's better…"
A soft moan came from behind her and she whirled around in shock, but it seemed that Cousin Bilbo was just shifting in his sleep. Esme hesitated for a moment and then returned to the pile of blankets on the floor. Not all of them were damp and cold, though her blankets had certainly been snugglier, so she took the warmest of those from the floor and draped it carefully across her cousin's lap. She guessed that it would probably be on the floor by morning, given the way he kept shuffling in his sleep, but at least he could be warm in the meantime.
Her gaze returned to the boy on the table and once again tears sprang to her eyes. Again she banished them furiously, and then she snuck forward and patted the dwarfling's shoulder gently. "It'll all be alright, you'll see. Everything's going to be just fine, I promise."
With that, Esme turned away, gathering the damp, cold blankets from the floor and grabbing her little candle. She crept up the stairs quickly and scrambled back into the bed, shuffling around so that the drier blankets were the ones she curled up underneath. She prayed with all her heart that the child downstairs was still there by morning – she had never prayed so hard in all her life, not even when she had wished for one of the puppies of Dinodas Brandybuck's dog. Esme sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve, allowing herself to believe that the tears in her eyes came only from her yawn.
The memory was strong in her mind as Esme dragged Kíli's limp body across the meadow towards the Party Tree. For a moment, she imagined explaining just how horrible and messy things had gotten to her child-self, but it made her feel rather ill so she quickly stopped. Beside her, several other hobbits were dragging the other dwarves and Bilbo, each of them trying to avoid any sticks or rocks that may crop up in the way.
Unfortunately, not all of them could be avoided, and Esme saw Kíli's face contort into a wince for a split second, before returning to a mask of slumber. She squeezed his wrists slightly in apology, but did not let her face shift out of its own grim expression. Not five minutes ago their scouts had returned, warning that the dwarves were on their way with a dozen more men than they had brought the last time, so there was no time or space to slip up.
Another branch cropped up beneath her feet and she stumbled, dropping Kíli towards the floor for a moment. At the last second she caught herself and jerked his hands back up, wincing herself slightly when it seemed that she had used a little more force than was necessary. Kíli's head lolled back, his dark hair sweeping across the floor and the scars on his neck glaringly obvious in the tauntingly strong sunlight. Merry thought that the scars made Kíli look like a mighty warrior, but to Esme they just made him look more vulnerable.
More like the little boy on her mother's kitchen table.
Esme banished the emotional thoughts from her mind – they would do no good here. She had a job to do, an important one, and it would do no one any good if she collapsed into an emotional wreck.
She would not cry. Esmeralda Brandybuck, née Took, did not cry.
On cue as ever, Saradoc and Paladin made their entrance, running into the field with faces wrought with shock and horror.
"What are you doing?" Saradoc yelled, his eyes wide with panic.
"What we have to do!" Hugo replied as he dropped Bofur beneath the Party Tree. "We have to protect our families, this is the only way."
"It isn't, I'm sure it isn't-" Paladin put a hand on Saradoc's arm, but Esme's husband tore out of his grip and stormed across the field.
"You can't do this!" he cried, reaching Esme just as she dropped Kíli beneath the tree. "Esmeralda, what are you doing?"
"What I have to do for my son." She replied quietly, refusing to meet her husband's eyes.
"No, no, I won't let you!" Saradoc's voice cracked and his frantic movements conveyed the fear and panic Esme wished she could express.
"How do you propose to stop this?" Esme argued, raising her voice. "We are weak, Saradoc, let us just return to our boy, please."
"No, no!" Saradoc shook his head. "This is madness!"
"Come…" Esme took his hands and began to lead him away. "Come."
"Esmeralda-"
"Don't let him ruin it!" Hugo yelped. "We're running out of time."
Robin and Dudo raced forward and grabbed Saradoc's arms, dragging him with them as they left the field and Esme followed behind, glancing over her shoulder at the prone bodies she left behind.
Laughing brilliantly, Esme ran away from Kíli with all the speed she could muster, but as ever it was not quite enough and she squealed as he grabbed her around the waist.
"No!" she wailed through her giggles as he twirled her around so fast that her head spun. "Kíli, stop it!"
After a moment he put her down and stuck his tongue out, racing away, but this time she managed to close the distance herself. She launched herself through the air and landed on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and he gasped in surprise, staggering beneath her weight for a moment.
As soon as he had regained his balance he began to spin around once more in an attempt to make her let go, but he was ultimately unsuccessful and her triumphant laughter rang loudly over his playful growls.
With no warning at all, Kíli let his legs drop out from beneath him, and Esme screamed as they fell towards the floor. Kíli's arms hit the ground first, stopping Esme's own arms and legs from crashing painfully into the ground, and then they were rolling down and down and down the hill in a tangled collection of arms and legs.
Kíli was roaring with laughter by the time they rolled to a stop, but Esme was already too breathless from laughing to even try, so she untangled herself and sat up, trying to catch her breath.
"Are you alright?" Kíli managed to inject concern into his voice even though he was still trying to quieten his laughter, and Esme flopped back down onto the ground, staring up at the grey sky.
"I'm alright…" she sighed contentedly, turning her head to smile at him. "What was that?"
"You wouldn't get off!" Kíli defended himself as he finally stopped laughing, though his grin was still in place. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Of course not! We hobbits are hardy folk, after all." Esme scoffed, and both children giggled. Esme turned her face up towards the cloudy sky above and breathed deeply. "Does life get better than this, do you think? Or do you have to stop being fun when you grow up?"
"Don't be silly, you don't have to stop being fun!" Kíli scoffed.
"Are you sure? Grownups never seem to play…"
"They're always busy, I suppose. Bilbo plays with us!"
Rolling her eyes good naturedly at Kíli's admiration of his father, Esme nodded. "Yes, well, Bilbo's still a tween."
"Only until October." Kíli reasoned. "Don't worry, Esme. Life's going to get much better! I can tell."
"How?" she frowned at him.
"I'm just that awesome." Kíli claimed casually.
Esme poked his arm with a playful scowl. "Hey! I was being serious…"
"It's all going to be fine, Esme." Kíli insisted without lessening his grin. "The future's going to be brilliant."
Esme slipped out of the back door of the little house she had entered, making sure that she went unseen as she slipped around to her second position. Her hands were now clutching a bow and quiver, so it would not do if she was seen.
How brilliant is this future, Kíli? In your wildest dreams, did you ever imagine this?
She doubted it. In fact she hoped not – foreknowledge of this would have torn Kíli's heart to shreds. Her sharp ears picked up on the sound of hoof beats just in time for her to duck behind a nearby barrel and she peered over the top of the wood to watch the ruffians pass.
They were laughing. Seven, eight, nine of them on large, stomping horses with nasty grins and awful weapons. And they were laughing.
"…are they already there?"
"Yeah! The scout said that one tried to cause a fuss, but the others dragged 'im away."
"This'll be easy!"
You carry on thinking that, sweetheart. Esme thought fiercely, narrowing her eyes. All the better for us if you do…
It felt like an age passed as she sat there in a crouch, waiting for them all to pass, but they did and she slipped across the road and into a run, looping around the long way so that she was staring back at the meadow. Now, this was where it was about to get tricky…
Lowering herself as close to the ground as possible, she watched and waited while the others got into position. The fluttering of birds, slight rustle of leaves and flickering, fleeting shadows were the only indications of the hobbits' presence, and she knew that to the ruffians they would go unseen.
Once again, Dagr rode at the head of the group and Esme's blood boiled at the sight of him. The dwarf dismounted and began to saunter towards the group.
The loud call of a screech owl broke through the air and Esme began to count.
One… two… three… four… five… six… seven!
Across the field, twenty nine year old Lily Underhill stumbled into the meadow and widened her eyes with the brilliant skill of an actress, dressed in full travelling gear. Opening her mouth, she screamed in abject horror, dropping the baskets she carried to the floor and trembling as if she were having a fit.
Her brother burst from a nearby hobbit hole and grabbed her arm desperately, but she kept on screaming and pointing at the strangers.
Lacking time to observe their reaction and praying that their attention was significantly diverted, Esme sprinted the few steps to the large tree that overlooked the whole field and launched into the branches, scrambling up bough by bough until she was perched in the spot she had found the previous day. Though she could see the whole meadow below her, she was sheltered from view by branches and leaves.
Taking one deep, steadying breath, she pulled an arrow out of her quiver and nocked it with trembling fingers.
"Aw, come on, Kíli, you can do better than that!" Esme crooned at twenty years old, smirking as Kíli's arrow connected with the outside of the target.
"As if you could do better." Paladin snorted, immersed in a thumb war with Saradoc.
"I bet I could." Esme raised her eyebrows, failing to notice the way her mother's head snapped up in shock.
Paladin laughed aloud. "I'd like to take that bet!"
"No one's taking any bets on a family picnic." Daisy insisted firmly.
Esme rolled her eyes and Kíli grinned. "I don't think you could beat my best shot," he supposed. "But you could beat that one easily!"
"Exactly!" she cried. "Thank you, Kíli."
"Prove it then." Paladin challenged and she stood up, brushing down her pretty skirt.
"Very well, I will."
Striding over to Kíli, Esme took the bow he offered with a polite nod and nocked an arrow, barely pausing to line up the shot before letting go.
It struck the middle of the target. Not quite dead centre, she would admit, but close enough for her brother to sit up in shock and for her mother to growl out.
"Adalgrim!"
Esme whirled around to see her father tugging at his ear. She giggled. He was in trouble now.
"Yes, dear?"
"You've taught our daughter to shoot a bow and arrow!"
Esme and Kíli exchanged a glance and giggled as her laid back father fumbled for words.
"Well, I... What would make you think that?"
Daisy raised her eyebrows, apparently unaware of the children and Bilbo's barely suppressed laughter. "That was not something she taught herself. Adalgrim…"
"I may have given her a few lessons!" he admitted, evidently deeming it wiser not to tell his wife that she had shared over half of Kíli's frequent lessons. "But she's a Took and she asked to learn, she's just as much right as any of the lads to learn if that's what she wants!"
"Exactly!" Esme nodded passionately, before smiling meekly at the look her mother gave her.
"Whatever happened to communicating with me, hmm?" Daisy questioned. "What if I objected to such activities for a young lady?"
"Archery's considered a feminine sport among some cultures in the far east and among some menfolk." Kíli commented innocently with a sweet smile.
"That's as maybe, but it certainly isn't here." Daisy stared at her daughter. "I'd appreciate it if you could occasionally try to be a lady just a little, alright?"
"Yes, Mama." Esme nodded dutifully. She had no problem being a girl – in fact she was proud of it – and sometimes it could be fun to act like a proper lady. However, sometimes was the operative word in the sentence, and she hated being told there were things she could not do because she was a boy.
"Lovely. Adalgrim, what have we learnt here today?" Daisy asked in a patronising, firm tone.
"Not to teach Esmeralda anything unladylike without your permission."
"Exactly. And one more thing, Esmeralda…" Daisy looked her daughter dead in the eye. "If you're going to take up archery with the boys, you've got to wipe them out, alright?"
Esme laughed happily and looked to Kíli, who narrowed his eyes. "Competition?"
"You're on!" she grinned.
It had been almost a year now since Esme had held a bow, with the exception of the day before, but she was rather certain that she had not lost her touch. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, forcing herself to calm down, and eventually her hands stopped trembling.
Then she watched.
And waited.
Dagr, who had clearly been interrupted by the display Lily and Longo Underhill, turned back to those lying still beneath the tree.
"This is going to be easier than we thought!" he jeered, eliciting taunting chuckles from the riders. As Esme watched, Dagr drew his leg back as about if to kick Kíli.
"Wait." Saradoc's voice rang clear throughout the meadow, but this time he was far from frantic. His voice was calm and strong, and though his head was held high, his posture was not tense. He looked almost like a warrior. The only sign of emotion at all was the fire in his eyes as he took a purposeful step forward. "I suggest that you stop, now."
"Oh? Do you suggest so?" Dagr laughed, turning away from Kíli and striding slowly through the crowd of ruffians. With a derisive laugh, he flourished a hand at Saradoc and looked at his dishonourable companions. "This, gentlemen, is the vermin who wished to have our quarry outrun us once again like the cowards they are!"
The ruffians jeered and laughed at Saradoc, but he did not move.
"No one is running anywhere – at least we are not running anywhere. As for you, I strongly recommend that you leave now. You are not welcome here, and you will never be welcome here. You will turn your party around and you will leave the Shire, never to return. And you will leave our friends be." Saradoc demanded calmly.
"I don't think we will…" Frár, the black bearded dwarf stepped menacingly towards Saradoc, who refused to flinch. "I quite like it here, and I'd like to take some mementos with me when I choose to leave."
"Unfortunately you won't be taking anything with you when you leave. I only mean to give you fair warning." Saradoc replied. "You see us now as a peaceful, weak people and I suppose that could be considered true. But if you continue to push your welcome you will find us much less pleasant than you think we are."
"And what will you do, little man?" Frár crooned, and Esme wanted to punch him in the face. "Will you poke us with a walking stick, maybe? You pose no threat to us! You stand alone for the rest of your 'people' are cowards. They hide away in their holes as they should, cowering before anyone with an ounce of confidence, just waiting for the strong to come and take what they deserve. You will stand against us, but you'll stand alone. Just one sad little halfling whose mind has been twisted by a pathetic dwarfling and his friends… You're alone, and you always will be."
"Will I?" Saradoc raised his eyebrows. "Will I really?"
"Yes, you will, for you will die alone." The third dwarf, identified as Sindri, if Esme was correct, spoke in a voice so cold it sent shards of ice into her heart. "You will die as an example to those stupid enough to stand against us."
To Esme's horror, Sindri dismounted and drew his sword, prowling towards Saradoc with an unmistakable murderous intent, and no one moved to stop him.
Esme's heart was pounding in her chest as her husband refused to move, and as Sindri walked closer and closer she thought she was going to be physically sick.
And then, finally, it happened.
Paladin walked out from his cover with a drawn bow aimed at Sindri's face, striding calmly over to stand at Saradoc's side, and the dwarf hesitated, evidently confused.
On Saradoc's other side, Esme's cousin Everard Took emerged with his own bow and arrow, standing on the left of Esme's husband as all around the meadow the folk of Hobbiton emerged from their hiding places, flanked by the Took archers of Tuckborough as well as folk from Bywater, Michel Delving, Waymeet, Frogmorton and Overhill. In her turn, Esme pulled on the rope that she and Kíli had put in place the day before, pulling away a whole section of tree to ensure that she had unobstructed aim of any target in the meadow below.
The ruffians and dwarves all looked utterly astonished – and more than a little disconcerted.
"I… I… I…" Frár gaped as his band of ruffians jittered nervously on their horses. "I don't understand…"
"This is what loyalty looks like." Kíli's voice rang out loud and strong and the whole collection of invaders turned with a jolt of shock to see the young dwarf standing tall, his bow drawn.
To his right, Fíli stood with both of his swords at the ready, standing beside Dís, who held a short, wickedly sharp sword of her own. Bilbo stood on Kíli's left with his little sword, Sting, flanked by a fierce Nori and positively murderous Bofur, each armed with the large, deadly weapons that Bell Gamgee had lowered down from the party tree.
If Esme had felt in the mood to be granting credit to Dagr, she would have done so for his quick collection of his composure.
"Ah, hello Kíli. How've you been? How's Dwalin?"
Kíli's composure did not falter, but the rage burning in his eyes seemed to intensify. "It is too late for you to leave now – the dwarves must stay here and face the consequences of their actions, but to the menfolk among you I say surrender your weapons and leave before you get dragged too far into this mess."
For a moment, the men seemed to hesitate and Esme began to let herself believe that this could all end as simply as possible.
"Surrender their weapons?" Frár snorted, apparently regaining some of his confidence. "We have paid these men too well for them to surrender their weapons at so small a threat as this!"
Each man among them began to straighten up, and as their hands tightened around reigns and weapons she closed her eyes for a moment.
"This is your last warning!" Kíli called loudly, a hard edge to his voice.
"And this is what I say to that!" Dagr spat at Kíli's feet.
Kíli grinned, a horrible, dark, bloodthirsty grin that gave Esme chills. "Well, I did warn you!"
Just below her, Young Farmer Maggot and Tolman Cotton Senior stepped into the circle, and Maggot grinned as he pointed at the horses in the middle of the field.
"Sic 'em, boys!" he yelled, and a whole pack of furiously barking dogs tore into the meadow.
The reaction of the horses was immediate and the men swore as their mounts scattered and bucked, throwing several riders within seconds as they scrambled to escape the nips of the dogs.
From that moment on, the world descended into chaos.
The men were outnumbered but by the most part they were more experienced, and they seemed to have no qualms about what sort of injuries they dealt the little folk. Esme managed to shoot several arrows into the shoulders of the ruffians, since she did not really want to kill anyone if she could help it, but within moments the pure chaos obstructed any shot she could have hoped to take. Biting her lip, she pulled her fire poker from her quiver and leapt down from the tree and into the fray.
Instinct drew her through the fight in a desperate search for her family, but in moments she was lost among the shouting and hitting and as she thwacked her poker into the legs of a nearby ruffian she watched Hamfast Gamgee crumple to the floor after taking a blow to the head.
With a roar of rage, Tolman Cotton leapt forward and swung his bludgeon into the groin of his friends' attacker, clonking him on the head as he doubled over in pain. A panicking, riderless horse trampled worryingly close to Hamfast's head and Esme darted forward between its legs, grabbing her friend's arms.
For the second time this day, Esme dragged the limp body of a friend across the meadow, but this time she ran, desperate to get Hamfast to some relative place of safety.
"Esmeralda!"
She looked up at the sound of her name and stared in shock at Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, who was leaning out of the window of her own house. Esme had thought that both Sackville-Baggins had joined the children and those unwilling to fight in the Old Mill House, but evidently not. The sour faced woman was clutching an umbrella and beckoning Esme over.
"This way, bring him over here!"
Esme hesitated no longer for Hamfast's sake and Lobelia scuttled out of her home and helped her. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing, you foolish girl? Those men don't look like they'll be keeping their word of leaving us alone, so it's no good sitting around doing nothing…" the woman snapped in her usual bitter tone as they manoeuvred Hamfast through the door. "I'll see to this one - tell the injured idiots they can shelter here until this all blows over."
"Right," Esme panted. "Will do!"
With that she turned and ran back to into the fight. Already there were bodies strewn across the floor and already their wonderful meadow was stained with blood, but she could not tell who was injured and who was dead and she desperately prayed with all her heart that this would be the worst battle she would ever see.
Where's my family? She thought frantically as she slapped away a ruffian's hand. Where are they, where are-
Something crashed down at the feet of Milo Burrows, not two feet away from her, and exploded in a flash of light and flames and noise and Saradoc's cousin screamed in agony. She gasped in horror as the flames began to spread, though not as much as they would have had the grass been drier.
"They had flash flames – I don't think you have them in the Shire much, but the basic idea is that you throw 'em and they explode with a loud bang and some light and fire. Like fireworks, only more dangerous." Bofur had explained when speaking of how the traitors had tried to assassinate them in Beorn's house.
Esme lurched sideways and knocked Milo to the floor, forcing him to roll over and over until the flames on his trousers were gone, but his screams did not cease and she let Robin take over and drag his best friend away.
So now there was fire, as well.
Brilliant.
A familiar flash of red cloth drew her attention to the left and for the first time since this whole mess began she saw her brother, still alive and very muck kicking. As she watched, one of the ruffians lifted him clean into the air by the scruff of his neck, to which Paladin responded with a string of swearwords and an impressive kick that landed on the bastard's chin.
Ducking between the legs of a nearby horse, Esme ran towards him and drove her poker into the man's thigh, ensuring that the now howling ruffian let her brother go. Paladin nodded at her and waggled his eyebrows, before widening his eyes and lurching forward.
Esme squeaked as he drove a wood axe into the chest of a man behind her and she stared at him incredulously as he panted.
"Careful, Esmeralda… He… would've had your head!"
She nodded and tried not to panic.
A now familiar cry met her ears and she whirled around, looking for the source. With a racing heart she burst out to the outskirts of the fight and her eyes fell upon Nori, who was clutching his arm to chest and staring helplessly up at Dagr from the floor. The other dwarf was raising his axe high above his head, preparing to deliver the final blow.
Dagr.
This was the dwarf that had tortured her Kíli.
This was the dwarf that had locked her Bilbo in a burning house to die.
This was the dwarf that had invaded her home.
This was the dwarf that had threatened her family.
This was the dwarf that had attacked everything Esme loved, and he now stood over one of Kíli's – the Bagginses' – her dwarves with every intention of ending Nori's life.
Without so much as a thought, Esme ran and launched herself through the air, attaching herself to Dagr's back and reaching up to grapple with the axe.
The dwarf swore. "What the-"
Resorting to every dirty tactic ever outlawed in childish wrestling, Esme scratched at Dagr's arms and face, yanked at his hair and beard and even bit him twice, desperate fury and protective instinct blinding her beyond reason until he dropped the axe. With a roar, Dagr reached over his own shoulder and grabbed a fistful of her hair, successfully wrenching her away and she screamed in pain as she came crashing down by his knees.
"You filthy whore!" the dwarf snarled as he drew her face close to his, hatred burning in his eyes.
She gritted her teeth and grinned. "Takes one to know one!"
Dagr growled and smashed his forehead into hers, and for a moment Esme's vision went blurry, but she quickly blinked the world back into focus.
"'s that the best you can do?" she laughed breathlessly, and the dwarf thrust his fist into her stomach.
"Esme!"
Her heart quickened at Kíli's impassioned shout, but when she turned her face towards the direction of her brother's cry Dagr dragged it back.
"He cares about you, does he?"
"Sounds like it…" Esme muttered, her hands pulling at the fist clenched around her hair.
Dagr grinned maliciously. "Perfect!"
"Esme!" Kíli screamed as Dagr pressed his knife up against Esme's neck. "No, no!"
Fear stole the breath from Esme's lungs and she stared into the cold, uncaring abyss of Dagr's eyes as the blade dug into her skin. She felt the tip pierce her neck and she felt it dig deeper.
Her eyes widened and her breathing stopped altogether.
"No, no, Esme, Esme, no!"
She felt the blood begin to trail down her neck.
"Esmeralda!"
With one fierce motion, a knife drove deep into its victim's neck, tearing through flesh and bone and blood. A pained gurgle was the last noise to escape the tortured lips as the body sank to the floor.
Dead.
All around, the battle raged on, for it was truly a battle now, and the Party Tree that was the pride of Hobbiton was splattered red with blood. Fires had sprung in their meadow and blood was now the colour of the grass. Horses ran amok throughout the village, and some small pockets of fighting had spilled out into the streets.
Esmeralda Brandybuck lay on the floor, her eyes open but not seeing, her mouth open but not breathing.
And then she made herself take a deep breath, and she forced herself to blink.
The cold, uncaring eyes of Dagr were now void of any life, and she pushed herself up from the floor if only to get away from his blood stained corpse. The silver knife she had swiped from her attacker's belt was still in her hand but it did not look so silver anymore, not with its old owner's blood all over it.
She pressed her trembling hand to her neck and pushed it against the wound the dwarf had left there, but she could not tell how serious it was or how much of the blood that soaked her was actually hers.
I killed him… she stared at the corpse at her feet in disbelief. I killed him...
"Dagr!" a shriek of grief and fury pierced her ears, but it was as if she was hearing them through a dream. "You killed him, you bitch!"
Later she would blame it on shock, but nausea began to take a hold of her stomach. Esme felt sick, so violently, horribly sick that she doubled over slightly, her gaze turning towards Sindri, who was charging towards her with a furious expression. She felt so exhausted, so weak that she was able only to cower away from his attack, but before he reached her strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her out of the way.
"It's alright, lass!" Nori's gruff voice told her as Dís appeared from nowhere and smashed the blunt side of her sword into the back of Sindri's head, knocking him to the floor with one blow.
"Get her out of here, Nori!" Kíli yelled frantically, and Esme silently agreed.
Yes, please, please get me out of here! She wanted to cry, but she could not – not in the least because she feared that she would vomit if she opened her mouth.
Dís stepped forward with her blue eyes blazing and took a stance in front of Esme and Nori. "It is nearly over."
Is it? Esme almost sobbed as Nori dragged her backwards and rested her against a tree. She slowly curled up into a little ball, trying to quell the nausea and fear. It doesn't look over…
She raised her eyes back to the battle. She watched as her friends fell down and she watched as some of them failed to get back up. She watched the ruffians begin to dwindle, she watched several of them try to flee, and mostly she watched Dís dancing a bloody dance of death because it made her feel safer. No one would get through Dís, but Esme could hardly think of it as fighting – she could not believe that anyone could fight with that kind of grace and beauty. Dís looked like a warrior princess in the stories Esme had always loved, and in a way the hobbit supposed that was exactly what Kíli's mother was.
She lost track of when the battle died, and looking back she could not say whether it ended slowly or all at once. All she knew was that the battle ended when Frár threw down his axe and raised his hands into the air.
Her eyes flickered across the field and she saw Paladin supporting a bleeding Hugo. She spotted Bofur with Bell Gamgee and she noted Bilbo's presence at Fíli's side as the dwarf tightly bound Frár to a nearby tree. She glanced up at Nori and Dís, who still stood in front of her, and she spied Saradoc a little further behind them. When he saw her, his eyes widened in horror and he began to run forward, but not before another familiar figure fell to her side.
"Esme!" Kíli whispered, pulling her hand away from her neck and looking at the wound.
"Is it bad?" she asked, hating how small her voice sounded.
"Nah," Kíli tried to smile. "You'll be fine."
Esme's lower lip trembled like a child and she dropped her head against Kíli's chest with a shuddering gasp. Without a word he gathered her into his arms like a babe and for once she did not protest, even in jest. She curled into his embrace as little Merry would, only pausing to grab Saradoc's hand when he reached them.
And then, only then, did Esmeralda Brandybuck let herself cry.
I hope you enjoyed that chapter, do let me know what you think. I just love Esme. There are quite a few references to various things in this chapter including the Lord of the Rings and even Supernatural, so let me know if you notice them ;)
Thanks for reading, please review if you can. I will update as soon as possible.
