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Chapter Sixty Nine # You Found Me #
The goblin shrieked and writhed in the sunlight but the iron hands of the dwarves refused to let him escape the rays of the midday sun. Though it was not yet summer, the weak sunlight that barely warmed the tough skinned dwarves of Durin's folk seemed to burn the creature – and not one of the five dwarves gathered felt at all guilty for it.
"So tell me," Thorin's voice was almost a croon as he rested Orcrist against the vile creatures neck. "The mark on your forehead, who gave it to you? Who are you working for?"
"They came to the Misty Mountains," the goblin rasped, exhausted from the interrogation he had already experienced. It had more than a little torture to loosen his tongue at all, but when Thorin's rage combined with his knowledge of the goblin's crimes, the king felt nothing but satisfaction at what had been done. "Two dwarves, looking for a pair of princes… There weren't very many of us left, not after the battle, but those of us that remained were happy for the sport. For weeks we kept 'em locked up, made 'em squeal and squirm, until one day they began to sing."
"What do you mean?" Thorin demanded.
"They cut us into the little plot of theirs." The twisted creature snarled, its face contorting into a look of sickening joy. "They went West and we went East."
Thorin used Orcrist to point the goblin's face towards the sun. "This plot you speak of… What is it exactly?"
"Don't know!" it squawked, clearly desperate to escape the touch of light. "We were to keep low and attack the groups of dwarves travelling along the road! The pay was good and the revenge will be sweet when the plan is complete."
"I am going to need you to be more specific regarding this plan of yours, goblin."
"Not our plan, oh no! The plan belongs to the dwarves – it sees another king on the throne of Erebor…" it snarled. "A king from the same clan as the one who branded a dozen of us."
"Why did he do that?" Thorin kept his face clear of his confusion, though he could not puzzle out the stranger's logic. For all the effort they had put on secrecy, why would they brand those they should be desperate to escape association with?
"To ensure we remembered our purpose…" The goblin looked rather unhappy about this.
Thorin paused for a moment. "Then what purpose did your group have attacking those near the Iron Hills, if your target was my kingdom?"
"Not us," the goblin sniffed. "But likely others hired by the same clan. The Iron Hills scum can't be sending help to the Lonely Mountain if they can't even help themselves!"
Thorin paused once more, letting that information sink in. It made sense, as much as he was loathe to admit it. "You spoke of pay… What did they give you? How much did these people promise you?"
At those words, a sick, twisted grin split across the creature's bloodied face and it licked its lips. "No gold or jewels for us. It wasn't that sort of pay."
"Then what are you speaking of? Speak plainly and your end will come swiftly."
The goblin laughed. "Slaughtering your men, bleeding your women, and sinking our teeth your children's-"
Thorin smashed a fist into the goblin's mouth before he could finish that sentence, his stomach churning violently. He had heard enough. "How many of you are there? Tell me!"
"Not many!" the goblin growled. "Not many now, but enough to ensure that doom befalls you! Our time is coming, dwarf-scum. Our time is coming!"
"I care not for your pathetic prophecies. I want numbers." Thorin urged dangerously. When the goblin's mouth remained closed, Orcrist dug into its shoulder and twisted until finally –
"Near two hundred at the last count!" it shrieked, cringing away from the blade.
Two hundred? The dwarf king growled. "Where did they all come from?"
"The High pass!" the creature screamed in pain. "And Mount Gram, and Mount Gundabad!"
Thorin narrowed his eyes. "Where will they attack next?"
"On the roads… Anywhere they find the tender flesh of-"
His jaw tightening further, Thorin drove his sword further into the creature's shoulder, and his horrific words were drowned out by his squeal.
"These dwarves that you caught in the Misty Mountains… What were their names?"
For a moment, the goblin panted in raw silence, but when Orcrist twitched his words began to emerge once again. "Don't know names, didn't care… Not my business to know…"
Thorin took a step back this time, staring at the hostage squirming in the iron grip of Joren and Ehren. Now they knew what was going on. They knew all they would be able to know from the goblin.
He glared at the pathetic life form for a long moment, and then stared into its eyes as he plunged his sword into the goblin's heart, killing it with one final blow.
For a long moment, none of the five dwarves gathered outside of the mountain said a word, and Ehren was the first to react, thrusting the creature's body towards the floor.
"Well, that was disturbing."
Thorin's eyes darted to the lad as Joren glared at his son. The look in the older dwarf's eyes was achingly familiar – it was the look that Thorin gave Fíli or Kíli when they allowed they said something mildly inappropriate.
By Mahal, he missed his nephews…
His constant fear for their wellbeing was growing day by day, as was the crippling anguish as he became surer and surer that Kíli would remain in the Shire with Bilbo. It was, he had sorrowfully admitted to himself, just as much Kíli's home as Erebor was, if not more so – what right did Thorin have to rob Kíli of that for which the king himself had yearned for so many long years?
The thought of watching Fíli learning to function without his brother again broke Thorin's old, aching heart.
"Disturbing or no, it was most informative." Balin replied grimly, and Thorin wondered whether his friend was aware that he was using the same tone he would use to explain things to the lads as he looked at Ehren. "We know now what we're up against, and from the sounds of things it's likely that the ones behind this are indeed those who attacked the princes on the road. If we go by that logic, there's not that long a list of people we could be dealing with."
"Unless the beast was lying." Joren stared at the corpse at his feet with disgust.
"Goblins are cowards, with no sense of loyalty in their hearts." Thorin declared strongly. "Their lives and actions are driven by fear, and upon realising that he would be unable to escape the scum would have seen no sense in his lying. What did he have to protect – or fear? I do not take his word as the absolute truth, but I doubt that he wove too many lies."
"What do you wish us to do next, Thorin?" Ehren asked cautiously. "If it is indeed an Ironfist plot-"
"It would be wiser not to advertise that theory, lad." Balin interrupted gently. "We think as of yet that it's likely only a minor Lord if it is indeed an Ironfist, and the last thing we need if for the clans already in the mountain to turn against each other. If it comes out that we suspect the Ironfists, it won't take long for people to lay blame upon the whole clan. There are many we know of who are good, loyal folk who just happened to have come from the Red Mountains. It would not do to have them persecuted by frightened neighbours."
Thorin nodded his agreement. "We shall tell the people of the threat of the goblins, of what their numbers are and their mode of attack, but we shall omit all talk of dwarvish involvement until we know for sure what the extent of it is. I want word sent to the Blue Mountains with the same message – they must be truly on their guard as they travel now. Has there been any more luck with delivering word to those already on the road?"
The last question was directed at Glóin, who had so far been unusually quiet. His face in a tight line, Thorin's cousin shook his head. "Not yet."
An image of Glóin's wife and son swam into the forefront of Thorin's mind. The idea of Dana and young Gimli being attacked by so merciless a group was an intolerable one.
"We shall keep trying." Thorin promised, meeting Glóin's eyes. "I will not rest until this threat is obliterated from the face of the earth."
Without a word, the group began to stride back towards the Back Door of the Mountain, a secret door no more, pausing only to douse the goblin's corpse in oil and light a single match. Thorin would not allow such scum to remain on the slopes of Erebor, not even as a rotting corpse, but had no desire to watch the flames consume the pitiful creature's body – the smell was repugnant enough already.
As soon as the corpse was burning well enough, he continued to lead the way back into his mountain. His Mountain. He was the one who had won it back, he was the one who had spilled blood and sweat and tears to bring his people home.
He would be damned if some goblin-loving, treacherous lowlife from the Red Mountains took his home from him once more.
It was not supposed to be like this. Erebor was his home, it was supposed to bring him peace and security for his people, for his family, but it had brought him neither. He had put so much of himself into the quest to reclaim Erebor that he had never really thought about how horribly wrong it could go if he succeeded.
He had succeeded, and it had gone horribly wrong.
Reclaiming Erebor had divided Thorin's family in a way he could never have imagined. Reclaiming Erebor had given him a whole new host of enemies. Reclaiming Erebor had given him a constant fear that he would one day fall again to the allure of the gold that ever haunted his family.
Thorin would fight with everything he had to keep his throne, because in his attempts to give his family everything, he had torn them apart and robbed them of everything important. He would fight to keep his throne so that he had something to offer Fíli and Kíli, something more secure than the impossibly heavy weight of a breaking people that his father had left upon his own shoulders when he vanished.
As he wove his way through the halls of Erebor, for the first time in his life Thorin Oakenshield thought of his golden kingdom, his brilliant homeland, his safest sanctuary as nothing more than a lonely, Lonely Mountain.
More than anything, Kíli wanted to run. The brisk pace of their walking was not fast enough at all, not with his little ones lost and alone, but if they went any faster they risked missing the barely noticeable trail the baby hobbits had left in their wake. The ruffians' tracks were far more discernible, since none of them seemed that light footed, but the small search party was not taking any chances. They had already tracked their little ones to the wood, but as they searched father into the trees with no sign of finding them soon, hope was dwindling.
All of a sudden, Kíli froze, his eyes picking up on a flash of movement.
After a moment there was a rather loud crashing sound and a figure broke into a sprint not ten yards away from him. With a shout, Kíli raced after the fleeing ruffian, fury forcing his legs far faster than the man could hope to run.
A roar of fury escaped his lips as he smashed the blunt side of his sword into the back of the man's legs, forcing him down to the floor. Within the instant Kíli was down too, forcing the villain onto his back. He pressed a wickedly sharp knife to the ruffian's throat, but before he could demand knowledge of the children's whereabouts, the man started to beg.
"Don't kill me, Master Dwarf, don't kill me, please!"
"Where are they?" Kíli growled, pressing the knife further against the man's skin. "Tell me!"
"I don't know what you're talking about-"
Kíli silenced the man with a fierce blow to his head as Nori, Bofur, Saradoc, Paladin, Ellie and Fíli burst into the little area. "The children you drove from the Old Mill. Where are they?"
The man twisted his face into a fearful grimace. "I buried them."
"What?!" Kíli's yell was all fury as his heart pounded in fear.
"They live, as of yet, but if you kill me, you'll never find them!" the man swore, his fear visible through his cracking mask of courage.
Oh no, no, no this cannot be happening… No, no!
Kíli swallowed, but before he could form words from his terrified thoughts, Fíli gasped sharply. Looking over quickly, Kíli saw his brother throw back his head and yell.
"Marco!" Fíli roared, sending the word up into the air with desperation.
For a moment there was silence, and then all of a sudden a distant voice cried back. "Polo!"
Fíli jogged to Kíli's side, purposefully stomping on one of the man's hands and met his brother's eyes. "Buried my arse."
A spring of hope emerged in Kíli's heart and Nori and Bofur ran forward.
"We'll deal with this bastard, go!" Bofur said quickly, and Fíli and Kíli both leapt to their feet.
"It came from over there…" Paladin pointed in the vague direction of the west, his face wan and pale.
"Marco!" Fíli roared once more, his voice carrying loudly through the air.
"Polo!"
Kíli whirled his head in the direction of the reply and the stars fell into alignment. "Of course!"
He took off at a run, knowing for the first time exactly where they should go.
"Kíli, where-"
"They were scared!" Kíli yelled back at his brother. "They were scared so where would they go if not home? They'd go somewhere they deemed to be safe, wouldn't they?"
"The tree!" Paladin realised as he caught up with Kíli.
Ellie turned to the blonde racing beside her. "Fíli, can you-"
"O' course. Marco!"
Once again the child's reply floated to their ears, the voice now discernible as Frodo's and Kíli began allow relief into his mind. They were safe, safe enough to call out, safe enough to –
Several high pitched screams tore through the air and the relief turned to ice in his veins.
"No, no, let him go, help, help!"
The screams were all the same, all the same sort of words with the same sort of fear and Kíli forced his legs to run faster than he knew to be possible.
As they drew closer and closer and closer the screams grew louder and louder and louder, and Kíli could hear the quiet crashes of all those scouring the woods as they all raced towards the terrifying sound.
Kíli broke into the little clearing, the oh so familiar clearing, where the tree stood - their tree, their secret little haven – and his pounding heart almost exploded at the sight before him. A large man stood below the branches of the tree with Frodo grasped tightly in his arms.
"Don't come any closer!" The man yelped as Kíli approached, pushing a knife against the little hobbit's skin.
No! Kíli could not even form that word aloud, though it pounded through his head with the same force as his heartbeat. No, no, no, no, no-no-no-no!
"Frodo, it's going to be alright," a calm voice came from his right. Fíli, of course it was Fíli. "Look at me, mizimith, everything is going to be fine."
Kíli watched Frodo's frightened eyes flicker to his brother as quiet fell upon the clearing. It was too quiet, far too quiet, as every soul in the area held their breath.
"I swear to you, I'll slit his throat if you come any closer!" the man protested fiercely as Fíli took a single step. "Lower your weapons, now!"
"Of course," Fíli's voice was as smooth as honey as he lowered his sword towards the floor with a pointed look at his brother. "Kíli…"
I don't want to put my weapons down, Kíli thought fiercely. I want to pummel the bastard's head in!
"Kíli!" Fíli insisted, his eyes meeting Kíli's. Trust me, Kíli, his gaze said. I know what I'm doing…
Kíli tilted his jaw and narrowed his eyes for a flash of a second. You'd better.
Deathless fell out of Kíli's grip and landed on the floor with an ominous clang.
"Good," the man breathed heavily, shifting a frightened Frodo quickly as he took a few steps backwards. "If anyone tries to follow me, I swear to you I'll kill him."
Frodo let out a little wordless cry of fear as the man began to fade out from view and Kíli looked frantically to his brother as Fíli held out an arm to stop him from moving.
"Wait!" the prince's voice rang out with all the majesty of his kingly uncle, and the ruffian paused almost despite himself. "If you put him down and let him go, I can guarantee that your life will be spared."
The man shook his head. "No, no! Do not think I am so stupid as to take your word-"
"I do not think you stupid. I think you have been misled. Do you have any idea who I am?" Fíli raised his chin ever so slightly, and Kíli recognised his brother drawing the attention to himself, so as to make the villain lose his concentration on his scared little hostage.
A blank look was in the man's eyes as he shook his head slightly.
"I am Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór and I am the crown prince of the Lonely Mountain in the East." He declared, and Kíli felt a swell of grim satisfaction as the man's eyes widened in fear. Somehow, Fíli could make his (awfully long winded) name and title sound nothing less than a death threat. "My word means more than yours ever could, so I suggest you trust it and lower the boy to the floor."
The man hesitated, shaking his head slightly. "I will not risk my life or freedom for one halfling, even on the word of a prince."
Fíli's tone and face hardened as Kíli's breathing quickened. "You would be a fool not to. If you take another step, if that boy suffers so much as a scratch by your hand I can guarantee that my little brother here will do all in his power to track you down and eviscerate you. He is a brilliant hunter and not in a mood to show mercy – if you put down the boy now I can promise that you will keep your life, but if you run I can guarantee that you will lose it within the week."
The man's eyes flickered to Kíli and the dwarf fixed the villain in his fiery glare. A small part of him hoped that the bastard would run, if only to allow Kíli the satisfaction of using him for target practise, but the fear for Frodo was far greater and behind his mask of violent fury, Kíli waited with bated breath.
"You swear to me that my life will be spared?" The man edged.
"On my honour." Fíli nodded. "But you must lower the child to the ground unharmed and surrender yourself to us immediately. Otherwise I will claim no responsibility for any harm that may come to you."
A bitter, defeated scowl passed across the man's face and he slowly lowered Frodo to the floor.
The little hobbit was across the field before Kíli could blink and he launched himself into Bilbo's arms with so much force that Kíli's father staggered back a step or two.
"It's alright, Frodo, I'm here little one, I'm here…" Bilbo began murmuring immediately, brushing Frodo's curls away from his face and holding him tightly.
Even as Kíli relaxed, the bridle of fear holding back the white hot fury in his veins vanished, and he began to stride across the field towards the one who had so callously threatened Frodo's life. The man's arms flew into the air as he fell to his knees, but that did not stop Kíli from striking him across the face. The presence of the children was enough to prevent Kíli from doing anything more, but he and his brother were none too gentle when they bound the man's hands tightly and gagged him.
"I'll take him back and put him with the others." Fíli murmured to Kíli. "I'll come and find you when I'm done, you should look after the little ones."
Kíli nodded shortly and Fíli squeezed his wrist for a moment, before pulling out his sword and forcing the man out of the clearing.
For a moment, Kíli just breathed, allowing his anger to leave the clearing with the wretched man, and then he darted back to the tree, raising his arms in time to help Pearl down. Sobbing, the girl curled up in his arms immediately, only letting go when he managed to pass her off to her mother. Merry and Pippin came down next, and when they managed to carefully ease Pippin's vice like grip from his cousins the babe was deposited into his father's arms, while Saradoc grabbed Merry faster than light, stroking his son's hair and murmuring quietly into his ear.
Little Samwise, pale and trembling but still as calm as could be, was next to be helped down from the tree and passed to Hamson. The oldest son of Hamfast and Bell Gamgee looked an absolute wreck as he clutched Sam to his chest and buried his face in his littlest brother's hair, and it was only moments before Sam started to ask in a timid voice where his Mama and Papa were.
Kíli's heart broke a little more, but he was distracted by something falling straight into his arms. Pervinca's legs locked around his waist as she nestled her face into his neck, her whole body trembling with silent sobs. He planted a kiss on her curly head and rubbed her back comfortingly.
"It's alright now, little one. We've got you now."
"I know!" she squeaked back, her arms tightening around Kíli's neck a little more.
Nelly finally shuffled down enough to be able to clamber into her father's arms, her head falling atop his shoulder as tears streamed down her face.
"It's all over now," Paladin promised his middle daughter even as he bounced his son slightly in his other arm. "It's all done."
A sharp wail broke through the air and everyone turned to look at the two Gamgee brothers.
"What?" Sam cried, his face utterly horror-struck. "No, no, no, no!"
Hamson just sobbed, his face breaking as he dropping his head.
"No, no, no!" Sam's voice rose to a scream and Kíli refused to let himself turn away. "No, Mama, Mama!"
"Kíli," Pervinca whispered quickly. "Kíli, what's happening?"
Kíli pressed a kiss against her head as Hobson Gamgee hobbled over towards his two grandsons. The elderly hobbit eased a screaming Sam out of his brother's arms and met Kíli's eyes.
"I think I'll be taking these two lads home now, Master Kíli." He said softly, his hooded eyes heavy with grief.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kíli nodded. "If you need anything, anything, come up to Bag End, please."
"That I will…" the old hobbit nodded back, turning away to bring his grandsons home.
"Kíli!" Pervinca repeated a little more desperately, her fingers digging unconsciously into his skin. "What's happening, why's Sam crying?"
Across the field, Frodo gave out a small, short little wail and Kíli closed his eyes for a moment. Frodo knew. He opened his eyes and looked at Pervinca. "Bell… Bell has passed away."
"Mrs Gamgee?" Pervinca's eyes widened in absolute horror and she looked over at where Sam was leaving. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she tried to take breath, only to choke on a sob.
Kíli held her closely for a moment, looking helplessly at the others. Most of the children were unnaturally quiet now, until Merry asked in a tiny voice.
"Papa, where's Mama?"
"At the Underhill's House." Saradoc replied soothingly. "She's a little bit hurt, but she'll be alright."
As he watched Merry sag with relief, Kíli bowed his head.
Allow Barney and the others the dignity of their choice. We all truly think you are worth it. So stop right now with your guilty nonsense!
But he was not worth this really, was he?
A little hand made its way to his cheek and he allowed Pervinca to move his head to meet her gaze.
"Kíli? Were you hurt in the fight?" her little voice was filled with concern.
"No, Pervinca." He whispered, trying to smile at her.
"I don't believe you!" she countered in a wavering voice. "You've got blood on you and you look like you're hurting."
"I am hurting," Kíli explained quietly. "But not because I'm injured."
Her lower lip wobbled and she blinked in rapid succession. "Because your trawler-ised?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Merry said that Bofur said that you were trawler-ised after the big battle that you didn't tell any of us about, and Frodo said that Bilbo said that it means you're all haunted and scared after something really bad happens and he said that it hurts really, really bad even though you can't see anything wrong!" Pervinca finished, her little hand stroking Kíli's hair away from his sweaty forehead. "I don't want you to be trawler-ised."
"Traumatised." Kíli correctly softly. "It's called traumatised, and it's not so bad this time. When did Merry hear about this big battle, then?"
"Don't avoid the point, Kíli." Pervinca said firmly, looking so much like her strong willed aunt. "How can we fix you?"
Kíli's mouth dropped open slightly. "What?"
"How do we make you better? You put bandages on cuts and you put water on burns, so how do we make you un-traumatised?"
"Oh, sweetheart…" Kíli murmured, a small smile appearing along with the tears in his eyes. "You're already doing everything you can."
Pervinca's confusion was evident on her pretty little face even as she reached up to clumsily wipe his tears away. "I don't understand…"
Kíli shook his head slightly. "It will pass with time, Pervinca. You don't need to worry about me."
"Just 'cause I don't have to doesn't mean I won't!" she protested. "You're my only dwobbit, Kíli, and I love you lots and lots! Loving someone means worrying about them all the time, it's just how it works! You have dark eyes sometimes Kíli, sad eyes, and I don't want you to be sad."
For a moment, Kíli was speechless. How, how, could so small a girl be so smart, so insightful? Then one word in particular began to stand out.
"Dwobbit?"
She nodded firmly. "Marigold told me that's what you are and she's right, really. We have lots a' dwarves now, but we only have one Kíli. Only one dwobbit."
Kíli tightened his grip around Paladin's youngest daughter. "I love you so much, little one."
"I love you, too." She whispered back, resting her head on his shoulder. "Can we go home now? Please?"
Kíli looked up and met the others' eyes. "Yes, sweetheart. We can go home."
I hope you enjoyed that chapter, the next one will be up fairly soon if all goes according to plan!
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