Happy New Year! Sorry this has taken so long :(
Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews last chapter, especially to those I couldn't reply directly to. I Just Won A Free Toaster Oven – thank you so much, I'm so glad you were so excited, that really made my day :) Hermione Granger – thank you, I will try to include more flashbacks wherever possible :)
This update was to be uploaded tomorrow but I watched BOTFA today and I cried more than I have ever cried at a movie before ever. *shudders* anyway, I finished this chapter up as a way to help myself spiral into denial at the horrible ending. As I am still rather upset, please forgive any mistakes I make :P
Read. Enjoy. Review.
Chapter Seventy- Six: The Trouble With Children
In his life, Bilbo had been woken up by his son hundreds of times. There were times when he wanted to shove Kíli's incessantly poking hand away, and times when he had leapt up the moment that familiar voice whispered his name. There were times when he had woken to panic and times when he had woken to excitement and times when he had awoken to sorrow.
There were times when he was happy to be woken up, and there were times when he was not.
Kíli's hand clamped over his mouth and a harsh whisper in his ear was not among his favourite wake up calls.
Bilbo's foggy mind cleared in an instant as his eyes flickered open. It was still dark, and Kíli's hair hung down to cast further shadow over his face as he stared down at the hobbit with a finger to his lips. Bilbo nodded frantically, peeling his son's fingers away from his mouth as he sat up, looking around desperately for some sort of danger.
The first thing he noticed was that no one was missing, and one fear left his chest. The second thing he noticed, however, was Frodo. The little boy's face was pale as a sheet and wrought with what looked strangely like guilt as he clung to Fíli's hand, sheltering behind the dwarf's leg from – Kíli?
The hobbit frowned, seeing no threatening figures looming in the darkness and no reason for anyone to be awake other than the one on watch. His gaze lingered on Frodo as he tugged on his sleeves and rubbed his eyes.
"What's going on?" Bilbo whispered.
"We've got a problem." Kíli murmured darkly, glancing over his shoulder. "Look."
Bilbo rubbed his eyes and tried to focus through the dark towards the trees Kíli gestured towards. His eyes took a moment to focus, but when they did he did a double-take even as his heart sank into his stomach. Standing behind Kíli, cowering behind a tree with an expression twice as frightened and guilty as Frodo's was Samwise Gamgee.
"Oh, good grief." Bilbo mumbled, rubbing his forehead as he clambered to his feet. "Alright…"
Sam cringed away from Bilbo's stare without even looking at the adult's face, keeping his eyes trained on his toes.
"Every night for the past two weeks Frodo's been sneaking out to bring him food, extra blankets and the like. He's been trailing behind us since day one – staying just far enough behind to keep out of sight." Kíli murmured, sending a sharp glance to Frodo, who shuffled a little further behind Fíli's leg.
It was not unlike Frodo to hide behind whichever brother his mischief had not irritated, whether in jest or sincerity, but Bilbo could see that neither Fíli nor Kíli knew quite how to react to this news.
He had no doubt that Kíli was angry – Bilbo was angry himself that Frodo had somehow thought the only way around the problem was to lie – but Fíli looked thoughtful. Bilbo know knew the dwarf well enough to know that if Fíli looked thoughtful he could be contemplating the very meaning of the universe or daydreaming about whether butterflies had feelings, and the hobbit was also aware that the emotions attached to Fíli's 'thoughtful face' could vary to the same extent. Fíli was harder to read than Kíli, but due to the fact that his hand was on Frodo's shoulder and not pushing him around to the from insinuated to Bilbo that anger was not the oldest prince's primary emotion.
"Is that so?" Bilbo replied quietly, scanning the sleeping dwarves around them. "And you, Frodo Baggins, felt it necessary to lie to us because…?"
Swallowing, Frodo titled his chin up and pushed his bottom lip out a fraction as he replied. "Because you would've sent him home."
"Frodo," Bilbo hardened his tone and Frodo's attempt at defiance wavered. "We will talk about this later."
"It wasn't his fault, Mister Bilbo!" Sam protested meekly. "I asked him not to."
"Did you now? And what, exactly are you doing here in the first place, Master Gamgee?"
The little hobbit swallowed. "I… I did listen to you, Mister Bilbo, I did, and I was going to stay and look after my Papa, but…"
"But?" Bilbo repeated.
"I just couldn't stay, Mister Bilbo, I couldn't! Not with Master Lotho saying such horrible things-"
"What horrible things?" Bilbo frowned. The Sackville-Bagginses were not known for their niceties, but Bilbo had never noticed it making too much of an impact upon the children around him.
"He… he said that you weren't ever coming back – that if you made it to Erebor you'd stay there forever, and he said that there was no chance of you making it there anyway. He said you'd all die!"
"So logically you assumed that following us would be the wisest thing to do?" Bilbo raised his eyebrows.
"No, Mister Bilbo, I just wanted to help, see? I didn't want to cause any fuss or bother, I just wanted to help you not die." Sam insisted.
Bilbo pursed his lips.
"Why do you want to come with us, Sam?" Bilbo asked when they were comfortable.
Sam shuffled on his chair, having already been told that the older hobbit did not think his accompanying his friends wise. "I… I've already lost my Mama. Frodo's my best friend and I lost him for months earlier on this year, I don't want to do that again. And I'd love to see it, Mister Bilbo. The world. And all the elves and dwarves and ents and everything!"
"But what about your family?" Bilbo pressed. "Your Papa, your brothers and sisters? Won't you miss them terribly – won't they miss you?"
"Well, yes…" Sam admitted. "But there's lots of us. They won't miss me too much – it'd probably make things a lot easier for Papa."
Both in his initial chat with Sam following Hamfast's surprising plea and now, Bilbo could clearly see where Sam was coming from. The lad was terrified by loss and all too attuned with the suffering of others. In fact, Bilbo would wager that Sam was so desperate to make sure that everyone else was alright that he would forsake his own needs in a heartbeat. It was refreshing to see something like that in a person, but heart breaking in one so young. Bilbo had no doubt that Sam truly believed his family would be better off without him – he guessed that the boy's logic supposed that his father was struggling enough with his failing vision, weakening body and crippling guilt. One less mouth to feed would surely help – or so the boy probably thought.
"Did you tell your father where you were going, or did you simply disappear off into the blue without a word?" Bilbo wondered aloud.
"I… I did tell him." Sam promised, with no sign of a lie in his eyes. "I said goodbye…"
Bilbo sighed and massaged his forehead. The logical thing to do was to send Sam home immediately, but how? To turn back now would be to waste more than a month's worth of travel time, and they would surely never reach the mountain in time for Durin's day then. Their deadline this time was looser – they would not have to wait a whole year to attempt to regain access to the mountain if they did not reach it in time, but a Baggins was always on time.
"Bilbo, you cannot seriously be thinking-"
Bilbo silenced his son with a look. "I told you once and I must tell you again now, Master Gamgee, this is no holiday. Our road is a difficult one to tread and I cannot tell how much danger we may face. It is a long journey and it is a tough journey. There are those younger than you with us, it is true, but they have their parents with them. You do not. Someone can take you home now, with no punishment or consequence, and you may stay with your father and your siblings in peace and comfort."
"If it's all the same, Mister Bilbo, I'd really rather stay please." Sam's voice was no more than a whisper.
It was a difficult situation. Every outcome ended in heartache for more than one party, and despite his gut instinct, Bilbo knew that he had to honour his final agreement with Hamfast.
"Very well." Bilbo met Sam's eyes for the first time as the boy's head snapped up. "There are rules, though, that you must be fully prepared to follow if you want to join us."
"Of course, Mister Bilbo, of course! I'll do anything!"
"You must do exactly as you are told by myself or any adult, even if you do not want to do so, and you must promise that you shall never, ever lie to us." Bilbo said firmly.
"I promise, Mister Bilbo. On everything that I have I promise!" the little boy's face shone with earnest.
"Alright… I promised your father I would take you in if that was your final choice. Do you have a bed roll? Good, good. Get some sleep." Bilbo allowed his tone to soften slightly as Sam dragged a surprisingly large bag out from behind the tree, detaching what looked like a mismatched bundle of blankets and scraps of old quilts. Knowing the financial status of his family, that was probably all it was.
"Thank you, Mister Bilbo." Sam smiled.
"You are welcome," Bilbo paused. "Sam? You may drop the titles, alright my lad? We're all travelling together now, there's no need for such formalities." Sam faltered and looked a little lost. "Of course, if you want to use them there is nothing stopping you!"
"Alright, Mister Bilbo. Thank you. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Sam. Frodo, Fíli, Kíli, if you would come here for a moment I would much appreciate it."
The three reached him before he finished calling them – unsurprising given the size of their campsite.
"Bilbo?" Kíli shook his head, lowering his voice to the point where it was certain that not even Sam could hear them. "What are you doing?"
"I swore to Hamfast that if Sam appeared and I could not convince him to return home that I would take him with us and protect him as best I could." Bilbo explained, looking pensively at the child shuffling down on the outskirts of the group. "Kíli, what else can we do? Don't answer for a moment, just think about it."
Kíli opened his mouth but paused obediently for a long moment, before frowning with a sigh. "I suppose there isn't much choice... I don't like it."
"No, neither do I. On that note," Bilbo crouched down and put his hand firmly on Frodo's shoulder, making the boy look him in the eye. "Frodo Baggins, what on earth possessed you to think that lying to us was ever acceptable about something so serious?"
Frodo watched his toes curling into the dirt. "I don't know…"
"Frodo."
"I didn't want you to send Sam home." He replied miserably.
"But that was not your decision to make, Frodo, and it was a very selfish one. What about Sam's father? What about his brothers and sisters? Why do you deserve his company more than they do?"
"Because he chose it! I didn't chose it, Uncle Bilbo, Sam did. I just covered him."
Bilbo sighed. "Do not do it again, alright? This is not a very good way to start off the journey and I don't expect to hear any more trouble from you at all. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Uncle Bilbo."
"For the next week you won't be allowed any bedtime stories. You will have to help with the chores instead." Bilbo stood up, his composure unaffected by Frodo's horrified face. "Does that seem harsh to you?"
Frodo's bottom lip trembled as though he was about to cry, but he lowered his head. "No, Uncle Bilbo."
"Good. Now, hop into bed then and try and get some sleep." Bilbo ruffled Frodo's hair.
"Alright Uncle Bilbo. Goodnight." Frodo hugged Bilbo's legs, an embrace that Bilbo returned wholeheartedly. The little boy looked up as he snuggled down beside Dís, as if considering shuffling over to join Sam, but he apparently thought the better of it.
Bilbo could not help but smile a little as the princess frowned and shifted around the little hobbit without waking up.
"Well, that was interesting."
"Oh, shut up, Fee."
"Make me."
"Boys…" Bilbo warned, though there was no malice in either dwarf's tone. "Bed. I'll take this watch."
"Yes, Bilbo." They chimed in unison, earning them nothing but a sharp 'sh!' from the hobbit.
As he watched the two dwarves settle themselves down for what was left of the night, Bilbo sighed, reached for his pipe and wondered how on earth he was going to explain this to the others come morning.
"That's it, slowly, slowly, slowly…"
"I am going slowly!"
"Alright then, just go slower."
"How much slower do you want me to go, woman?"
"Oh, about the pace of your brain, that should do it."
Across the room, Ori chuckled, but when Dwalin glared the lad did not even falter. The warrior frowned. He must be losing his touch…
By his side, Elza tugged gently on his arm. "Come on, that's a little too slow."
"Well, there's no pleasing some people." Dwalin muttered under his breath, testing out how much weight he could put on his leg.
Unfortunately, it was not very much. Sharp jabs of pain shot through his leg and he gritted his teeth but he refused to show it. His hands tightened around Elza's, and without saying a word she squeezed his hand back. Trying again, he placed his foot firmly on the ground and shifted a little of his weight on it. A hiss of pain escaped his lips.
"Do you want to stop?" Elza murmured hesitantly.
"No," Dwalin insisted. "I've been in that cursed bed for an eternity and I won't go back until I've taken at least five steps."
Elza hummed under her breath. "Aye, but you can't expect to be able to walk perfectly straight away."
Rolling his eyes, Dwalin, shifted his grip on her arm. "Ori, get over here."
The lad put down his book and crossed the room with that innocent look that usually adorned his face. Without instruction, Ori took the arm Elza was not supporting. Dwalin felt his weight spread more evenly across his body and he took a deep breath.
"Right, let's try this again. And if word gets out that I needed a woman and a child to help me cross the room, so help me I will beat you both."
"No, you won't." Ori and Elza replied in union.
Dwalin paused. "Be quiet, both of you."
After a moment, he lifted his injured leg, placing it gingerly down on the floor. Ignoring the shooting pains, he shifted his weight onto it once more. With the support of Ori and Elza, he managed to get just enough weight onto his foot to enable him to limp forward a step. The pain was intense, but he refused to allow himself to care. Resting for a moment on his good leg, Dwalin then moved his injured leg forward again. It was a painstaking process, but eventually he managed to achieve his target. Five steps. He grinned. This was not actually as bad as he-
"What on earth are you doing you block-headed lump of a dwarf?!"
Dwalin did not even bother to hide his groan. "Cousin, leave me be!"
"I most certainly will not!" Óin huffed. "Get back into bed, you fool!"
"I was already going." Dwalin snapped back, before nodding curtly at Ori and Elza. He pretended not to see the small smile they shared.
Soon enough, Dwalin was sitting back in his prison of a bed. His leg was throbbing, but that little taste of freedom had been well worth it.
"So Óin, what can we do for you?" Dwalin glared at his cousin with a twitch of a smile. "Come to bully me into staying in bed have you?"
"Don't be ridiculous! You don't need a pulley to get into bed, you were doing perfectly well with Miss Elza and Ori."
Elza covered her mouth quickly, but could not quite disguise her giggle as Dwalin covered his eyes.
"In any case," Óin continued, apparently unaware of his blunder, "I've come for Ori. Dori needs him right away."
"I'm on my way."
As he nodded his farewell to Ori, Dwalin could not help but marvel at the lad's endless patience. How Ori had not simply turned to Dori and told him that he was an adult who could stand on his own two feet thank you very much was a mystery to Dwalin. If Balin tried to boss him around the way Dori treated Ori – and the folk of the mountain called Ori the Dragonslayer!
"What does Dori want, do you suppose?"
Dwalin snorted. "It's not even worth guessing. There's far too much he has that lad do."
Elza made a face. "Well, it's really rather normal. Daren was so young when our parents passed away that he has very few memories of them, so he views Dastan as more of a parent than a brother. It's a different dynamic."
"Perhaps, but Ori is a slight bit older than Daren."
Elza pursed her lips. "Not that much. Daren is ninety one, you know."
"I do know, it was his birthday two days ago. Despite what my brother would have you believe I do actually remember that far back."
Elza smiled and played with the braid that hung over her shoulder. For a moment she said nothing, and Dwalin was content to watch her fingers dance around her dark brown curls. Her hands reminded him a little of Dís', calloused and scarred but gentle and feminine at the same time.
"He tried to make you a batch of muffins the other day. Daren, I mean."
"Me?" Dwalin frowned. "Why?"
She sighed, her smile becoming the wry half-grin of a long suffering sibling. "He's been baking things for all our friends. Ori got a batch of biscuits a few days ago that were actually edible. Daren thought he had enough skill in the kitchen to progress to muffins and I'd mentioned that you liked them so he promised to bake you a batch."
"And what became of them?"
"Oh, they incinerated, along with the old oven gloves he tried to put out the fire with."
Dwalin laughed, imaging the startled look on Elza's brother's face as he flung strips of cloth at a truly blazing oven. "Why did you not tell me before?"
Her grin faltered. "It was the day that your brother was attacked. I was told of it on my way here and all thoughts of small fires from burnt muffins flew out of my mind."
Dwalin paused, allowing the anger that had risen up at the mention of his brother's attack to simmer back down again. He had been absolutely outraged when Thorin told him that the traitor would not pay for his crimes, and utterly astounded when Balin told him the reason why. Even when he was able to see where Balin was coming from, Dwalin still would rather see the boy rot in jail for the rest of his days.
But there was nothing he could do about it, and for the first time in a long time that came as a relief. Instead, he could simply look at the beautiful woman in front of him and change the subject entirely.
"Have you been back to the library yet?"
As he had hoped, a blush leapt to her cheeks. She swatted his arm. "No, I haven't."
"You're that scared of the librarian?"
"You would fear Master Bausi if he knew that you had impaled one of his newly bound books too." She replied tartly. "I have Ori to fetch books from the library for me."
"Elza, daughter of Aisa," Dwalin announced, "Stands up to armed assassins and cowers before ancient librarians."
"Dwalin, son of Fundin," she retorted. "Follows his king on a life-threatening fool's errand through the bowels of the earth and flees when faced with a wee little spider."
Dwalin scoffed. "If you'd been attacked and almost eaten by spiders as big as a wagon, you would-"
"Be perfectly happy getting rid of one that's no bigger than the fingernail on my little finger." Elza finished with a playfully smug flick of her hair.
"Aye? If you'd grown up with Óin rattling on about venoms and poisons and 'oh, here, let me see if this one makes you throw up or gives you boils' you'd be wary of the little ones, too." Dwalin muttered darkly, his stomach turning happily when Elza laughed. He liked her laugh. He liked to make her smile.
"I suppose I would." She conceded gracefully.
Dwalin allowed the smile waiting in the wings to slip onto his face. He still felt guilty for lounging around in bed talking to a pretty lass while his family and friends dealt with the horrific treachery that was rife in the mountain, but he did do all that he could, what with his limited mobility. He scanned lists, he wrote letters, he ordered guards, offered opinions and created theories – he just allowed himself a little time with Elza on the side.
If he were utterly honest with himself, it still scared him. She had such control over him already, though he doubted she knew it. There was still a part of him that could not trust her. Some days he would wonder if she would stab him in the back and prove to be among the traitors, and others he imagined her leaving for no other reason than losing interest in his company. Both possibilities were somewhat terrifying and they often kept him awake at night, wondering if this strange high he seemed to get from her company was worth the pain of the inevitable end. Then he thought of Glóin and Bombur, waiting anxiously for news of their wives and children on the road. He thought of Dís and Finn, a shared life that was shattered far too soon. He thought of his parents and the love they shared until they died within weeks of each other.
He thought that maybe, just maybe, it was better to have that strange kind of love for a while than to not have it at all.
"Elza…"
She looked over at him, dislodging a curl of her unruly dark hair from its place behind her braid. "Mm?"
Dwalin paused, unsure of how best to phrase his next question. "I was wondering… Well, I was just wondering if you, uh…"
A loud knocking interrupted him and he closed his eyes, relief and irritation releasing themselves in a short sigh.
"Enter." He called brusquely, opening his eyes and glancing at Elza. Her expression was neutral – unreadable.
Colborn, the young guard Thorin seemed to think very highly of, walked into the room with a swift bow. "Forgive my disruption, my Lord, but a I have a message from Lord Ioán and a letter for you from Lord Dain. Lord Ioán's message is marked to be urgent."
"Thank you," Dwalin replied, taking the thick parchment from the guard's hands. The lad immediately bowed and retreated from the room. Dwalin ran his fingers on the red ink of the word 'urgent'. Then he tossed it down onto the side of the bed.
"Should you not read that?" said Elza.
"I care nothing for the 'urgent' needs of Ioán. That dwarf is scarce deserving of the title 'Lord'. He probably wants to file a request for an upgrade in his living conditions, the selfish bastard." Dwalin explained, before pausing. "What I…" he cleared his throat. "What I was going to say was that I was just wondering-"
Once again, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Elza shrugged slightly, a small smile on her face.
He ground his teeth together. "Enter."
The young guard walked back in. "A thousand apologies, my Lord, but Lord Ioán is outside and insists on having an audience with you."
"Tell him I am busy and will see him when I can." Dwalin said sharply.
"Very well, my Lord." Colborn disappeared once again. The lad had been on his door for a few weeks, and he was incredibly good at keeping away unwanted visitors.
Dwalin turned back to Elza, collecting his thoughts. "I was wondering if you would like to-"
There was a lighter, needier knock on the door and Dwalin all but roared. "Enter!"
His lip curled slightly as in flounced Ioán, all furs and finery and no brains or brawn. Colborn stepped in behind him, a shocked expression on his face.
"My Lord Dwalin, forgive me this inconvenience, but I have a matter of utmost importance that must be discussed with you immediately. After sending my message I decided that it would be best that I spoke to you in person." Ioán announced.
Elza glanced between the two of them. "Should I…?"
"No," Dwalin said firmly. "What is it you want, Ioán?"
"I have just received word that my wife is among those travelling from Ered Luin to Erebor. I must contact her immediately."
Dwalin waited for a moment. "And you expect me to conjure a means of talking with a single woman half a world away from my sickbed, do you?"
"Well, I expect that there must be some way for us to contact our-"
"We've been trying for months now to contact those on the road, but we have had no luck so far. There are already family of the king's company on the road so rest assured we are trying very hard." Dwalin tried not to allow his irritation to bubble over. Balin did not like it when he sparked tension among the pettier Lords, it made his brother's job a whole lot more difficult.
"Oh, alright." Ioán looked taken aback, though Dwalin was not unconvinced that it was not his usual state.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" the false curtesy dripping from Dwalin's tone was so thick a dog could have sensed it, but apparently Ioán did not.
"Uh, I think not, my Lord. My thanks for your time."
Dwalin nodded stiffly, before nodding again at Colborn, who led Ioán from the room with an apologetic bow to the bedridden Lord.
Allowing the silence to settle for a moment, Dwalin looked at Elza. "I'm sorry."
"You have no need to be," she said, a smile playing at her lips.
"I was wondering if you would be willing to court me. Officially." Dwalin stated, before cringing internally at just how awful it sounded. Where was his brother when he needed his flowery words or knowledge of the courtly etiquette that Dwalin never really troubled with?
His eyes were trained on Elza's face as her eyes widened and lips parted. For a moment she barely moved and Dwalin began thinking of the easiest way to backtrack, but then she smiled.
"I would like that very much."
Dwalin grinned. "Truly?"
"No, I think jesting over such a topic is clearly in my nature." She teased.
"You cannot help yourself, can you?"
"Well, one of us has to ruin the moment."
There was another knock on the door. This time, Dwalin allowed his head to hit back against the headboard. "Oh, for the love of gold – what do you want?"
The door opened and Thorin frowned around the doorframe. "I can come back later if you are unwilling to see me now?"
Sighing, Dwalin rolled his eyes at Elza who tried to hide her grin as she bowed respectfully to Thorin. "Forgive me, I thought you were Ioán."
Thorin's nostrils flared almost unnoticeably, a small part of the scowl he could never truly hide. "In that case you are utterly forgiven. However, I can return later if that is your wish."
"Your majesty, do you happen to know the time?"
"Aye, the clock struck seven not half an hour ago." Thorin nodded.
Elza smiled wryly. "Then I am afraid I must take my leave of you, my Lords."
"Farewell," Thorin smiled warmly at her.
"Farewell, your majesty. Farwell, Lord Dwalin." Her gaze lingered on his eyes for a moment longer and Dwalin smiled.
"Farewell, Miss Elza."
She nodded with a smile and strode to the door, glancing over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.
"So, what did I interrupt?" Thorin raised his eyebrows. "I recognise that tone…"
Dwalin snorted. "Never you mind."
"Did you ask her?"
"All of a sudden you sound like a dwarfling but a year into adolescence." Dwalin commented vaguely, reaching for the letter from Dain.
"No, I am merely curious." Thorin pulled a letter of his own from his sleeve, tearing open the envelope without much care.
Within minutes, the pair had settled into a comfortable silence, each reading his own letter.
"Oh, Dain expects to be returning by Durin's day. Did he tell you?"
"Aye," Thorin nodded. "I expect he wishes to see my sister attack me in public."
"Nah, Dís is far too smart for that. She won't strike until you're out of the public eye. It won't be private of course; we'll all want to see."
"How kind of you."
Dwalin sighed as his bladder made itself known. "By Durin, if I'm not on my feet by Durin's day I will be beating someone myself."
"With your crutches?"
"Oh, shut up."
"Do you need a hand?"
Dwalin scowled. "Probably."
Just as Thorin stood up, there was yet another knock at the door.
"You've got to be joking…" Dwalin muttered. "Enter!"
Colborn entered the room again, but this time his expression was grave. "Your majesty, my Lord, forgive me. Lord Jari wishes to speak with the both of you as soon as possible."
Dwalin glanced at Thorin, nodding slightly. "Send him in."
Fíli's friend entered the room, his face pale. "Forgive me but I need your help, Thorin, it's about Ari."
"What has happened?" Thorin asked immediately.
Dwalin's heart sank at the thought of the little lad. "I thought he was healing well?"
"He was, is, but he's gone." Jari swallowed. "In truth it is not unusual for him to disappear off and play hide and seek or some such game on his own, but he does not know Erebor and he's not left any of our sides since we arrived. Aria was with him, she left for but half an hour to gather them some food and when she returned he was gone. He's just disappeared, and there's... There's blood on his bed."
Thorin turned to Colborn. "Muster a search party immediately. Do you know the child?"
"Well enough to provide a description, I believe my Lord." He bowed, striding quickly out of the room.
"Is there any sign he was taken? How did the healer's not see anything?" Dwalin demanded.
"There was a woman at the other end of the hall giving birth – a tricky labour, twins I believe, they were all occupied. I do not know, I don't know what's happened." Jari took a deep breath, calming himself down with a light shudder. "He's just gone."
"Dammit…" Dwalin growled.
"I am sorry to interrupt your evening for this, if it transpires he just went exploring-"
"There is no need for remorse, Jari, you have done the right thing." Thorin assured the lad. "If he is not found by midnight, come by the royal wing and I will widen the search."
"Thank you, Thorin, thank you." Jari nodded, bowing out of the room.
Dwalin looked up at Thorin. "How far do you think he could have gone?"
Thorin paused, staring towards the door. "I do not worry how far he may have gone. I am more concerned about how far he may have been taken."
"Why would anyone take him, though?"
"It is no secret that their family have always been close to us, Dwalin." Thorin looked back at his friend, his eyes hard and cold. "If that child has been dragged back into the middle of this treachery… He must be found."
"Aye," Dwalin agreed. "He must be found. The children of this mountain have suffered enough already."
And here I leave you for today. Not my best chapter ending ever, though it's also probably not the worst. I hope you enjoyed that chapter; the next one will be up as soon as I can get it out.
If you do fancy leaving a review, please do, each one genuinely makes my day :)
