Sorry about the slight delay, I was fighting with the newest chapter of this. The next one should come out quicker.
If there are any horse errors then I apologize, but they are Beorn's ponies which means they are special which means I can handwave things. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter.
And if you can guess who the archers at the end are, you get a virtual cookie.
Bilbo was glad it was over, if only because it meant he could finally get down from the table, except Gandalf stopped him. "If you're to take the ring safely to Mordor, it ought to be somewhere more secure than your pocket," the wizard said, Bilbo winced a little - he didn't want to anchor this thing to him any more permanently - but he accepted the finely made chain that Gandalf gave him. It was finer quality than anything he'd seen in the Shire so he guessed it was dwarven made. He wondered which of the company had given up one more thing to the quest. Resignedly he took the ring from his pocket to thread it through the chain, handling it as little as possible with only his fingertips, and closed the clasp of the chain around his neck. It felt more like the click of fetters closing around wrists than it ought and the ring was heavier than it had been in his pocket.
The entire party was very quiet and spread out within the hall. Thorin had gone somewhere by himself but even the rest of the dwarves were only sitting in small groups, at least until Beorn returned. The giant man spoke quietly to Gandalf alone, to Bilbo's utter relief, and then left again. Lunch was an awkward affair, eaten where they were sitting and with very little of the relief or merriment that had been present at the previous meals.
With nothing else to do and not really daring to speak to the dwarves, Bilbo turned his attention to his mending. He didn't have any buttons to fix his ruined waistcoat but all his clothing was in need of mending by this point and he spent a boring enough afternoon trying not to think about what was ahead and stabbing his fingers with the too-big needle and thread that one of Beorn's dogs had brought him when he'd asked.
Supper was taken at the table so they all had to be sociable and sit at the table. "Tomorrow you shall leave," Beorn boomed, "with provisions enough to last you a good long while and ponies." There was a general thanking of Beorn, though it was rather lacklustre. Gandalf had not spoken of what road they were to be taking to Mordor and Bilbo wasn't entirely sure where Mordor was, Thorin's map had only shown the Lonely Mountain, nothing further south than that.
The next morning dawned early and bright. Beorn roused them as soon as he came into the house and as soon as they'd rubbed the sleep out of their eyes they could see fifteen packs sitting neatly in a row, thirteen of roughly equal size but one was smaller and another larger. They were allowed one final, quick, breakfast before Beorn led them outside where fourteen ponies and a horse stood waiting. They were sturdier than their previous ponies, and regarded them with eyes that were more intelligent as well. There was a general ruckus amongst most of the company, deciding who would get which pony after Thorin had chosen his and settling their packs on them. "What about the orcs following us?" Bilbo asked Gandalf, quietly. Beorn obviously heard what he said and, to Bilbo's mortification, replied in his great, loud voice, "No orc would dare to cross the Great River for a hundred miles north of my house, nor come anywhere near it. Orcs are not overfond of water and there are few fords south of here which Men would cross until the woods of Lothlorien. The ponies will stay with you as long for as long as you can ride them but when you reach Lorien, you must allow them to leave."
The company agreed and soon they were off. Heading southwards instead of towards Mirkwood, but the tree line was not so very far off. Occasionally Bilbo would catch Thorin looking wistfully westwards as the far-off shadow of the mountain passed out of sight.
As soon as they were a ways away from Beorn's lands, Thorin turned to Gandalf.
"Lorien, Gandalf. More elves?"
"Yes, Lorien," the wizard said, "Sauron needs to be found out and fought, but if I am to continue on the quest with you then others must do it. The Lady Galadriel can call a council where we can present the ring and make others aware of his presence. She can also provide the company with boats," that caused some grumbling within the company and even Bilbo was nervous - he'd never been boating, "which will take us closer to our destination with greater speed."
They kicked their ponies to go a little faster when far-off warg howls could be heard.
"How far's Lorien?" Fili asked.
"From here, it is some 200 miles, but these are Beorn's ponies. It should only take us a week or so to get there."
"At least we've woods to take cover in, if needs be," Gloin said.
Gandalf made a noise that could have been either approval or disapproval and kicked his horse towards the front of the string of ponies.
Despite having never ridden before going on this adventure Bilbo couldn't help but be glad that they had ponies once again, even after the two days of rest at Beorn's house he was still aching from his fall within the mountain and the battle shortly afterwards. This pony wasn't quite Myrtle, but he..she…it didn't seem to be trying to take advantage of its novice rider. He was fairly sure they were making good timing, although he couldn't be certain and he wasn't entirely sure what 'making good time' was when on a pony, but still. Hopefully this time they wouldn't have to worry about the ponies being eaten by trolls or chased away by wargs while they slept. No, if they were going to be chased by wargs, Bilbo rather hoped that they were i on/i the ponies when that happened. Azog was all the more worrying now, if they got captured and the ring was discovered how long would it take an orc to work out what the ring did or for Sauron to find it and the world to end (or whatever it was that was so bad that would happen if Sauron got power again), not that it would be of much consequence to him since he would likely be dead.
At least being on the road again had one positive effect. Even if they weren't heading quite in the direction they had planned the company did have to start talking to one another again and the general mood raised a little, apart from Thorin. Bilbo had been trying to avoid contact with the company's leader, no longer because he was afraid the dwarf leader would disapprove of him but because he wondered if Thorin didn't blame him for taking them so far away from his home. Durin's Day was drawing closer and once that passed they'd have to wait a whole year before there was a chance of getting into the mountain again. It was little comfort that he was mostly avoiding the rest of the company as much as he could as well.
"Don't fret master hobbit," Bofur said, drawing up next to Bilbo, "he'll come around."
The first three days of their travels southwards had been quite uneventful, sleeping in the lee of the tree line and with everybody on a more careful watch. More than one of those watching at night had spotted, or thought they had spotted, an overlarge bear following them.
"That is Beorn," Gandalf had said matter-of-factly, when he was asked about it, "he means us no harm but he will make sure we keep our promise regarding the ponies. Though it is unusual for him to venture so far south."
Having a giant, who could also turn into a bear, following them was a boon and a curse. Gandalf had explained that Beorn would not suffer animals to be killed, even for food, which meant no meat (even if any animals would come near the trail of a giant bear) but they had an ally within shouting distance if it became necessary. The foodstuffs Beorn had given them were not in any way lacking, the nuts, flour, dried fruit, honey and twice-baked cakes were all very tasty and they would last the company for weeks with some care, simply that the dwarves rather enjoyed meat.
The dusting of low scrub which covered the mostly flat stretch from the river to the trees didn't make for very good cover but it was far more comfortable outdoor bedding than they'd found since they had hit the mountains. The ponies were turned out to graze at night and it was that much easier to keep an eye on them, though with their exposed position no fires had been lit. Fortunately it was still the last days of Afterlithe (if Bilbo had got his days right, it might have been early Wedmath already) so it was no hardship to sleep outside, even with few enough blankets.
It was much harder to ignore one another when the entire company was travelling together. Balin and Dwalin, the other two hold outs for going to Erebor first, had both spoken to Bilbo in passing without any sort of recrimination for being the cause of this whole thing. He had yet to speak to Thorin, but that might have been his own cowardice since the dwarf king had spoken to the rest of the company. The cause of the whole thing was still sitting, quite harmlessly, strung around Bilbo's neck and it hadn't gotten heavier or exhibited any signs of waking up that he could discern - which he was grateful for, he didn't think he could fight the soul of some powerful dark lord.
Nevertheless, as they travelled south, the howls of wargs got closer and closer. On a normal day the river was out of their sights, but Bilbo could only hope that the wargs were still on the other side of it. It was the third night of travelling, just as they were all settling down to sleep - apart from Oin and Gloin who were on watch - when the warg howls could be heard especially close. They all sat up and the moon, which was large in the sky, could be seen in the distance glittering off the river and illuminating a host of dark figures on the other bank. One larger than the others, though it was impossible to tell for certain.
"Azog," Thorin hissed and the company hurriedly began gathering their belongings, unsure of how well - or even iif/i - they could be seen by the orcs, mounted up and headed off in a line at a canter keeping as close to the tree line as was possible.
Eventually they had to slow down for the sake of the ponies who had kept up the pace for longer than normal ponies could be expected to but who did, eventually, tire and need to be walked. Hoping they'd put enough distance between themselves and Azog the entire company dismounted and took their packs off of the ponies - they might need a burst of speed out of them if they weren't far enough ahead.
"I thought Beorn said he'd driven them off," Bilbo said, heart racing.
"And I don't doubt that he did," Gandalf said, "but they would have fled into the mountains where Beorn could not or would not follow so they could regroup. Wargs can travel farther and faster than almost any horse even if they had reason to be wary of Beorn."
"They can't cross the river, can they?" Ori asked.
"The further south we get, the less chance there is they will try and cross the Anduin," Gandalf said,
"That's not really an answer, Gandalf," said Nori.
"There are no fords southwards which orcs or wargs might cross" said Gandalf, "for they are too swift and too deep but there is an old ford which we passed some two days ago which they may chance, if they dare to get so close to Beorn's house. Our best hope is to press on southwards as fast as we may and hope that they are discovered."
"And if they don't cross the river," Dwalin said, "if they wait for us to cross over to them?"
"Though we cannot see it we should shortly come to the Gladden Fields, where the Gladden River joins the Anduin. The Gladden comes down from the mountains and is no small stream. If they wish to go around it they will have to go deep up into the mountains and come back down."
When they stopped walking altogether, as the sun crept over the trees and the not-so-distant mountains - which Bilbo had been informed were the mountains of Mirkwood - for a few moments making the forest not look quite so imposing, Thorin decided - and Gandalf quite agreed - that all of their belongings which were not vitally important could be left behind. If they were to be chased then they needed the ponies to be as light on their feet as possible. That held them up a while but when they departed it was with packs that were lighter than they had been.
A faster pace than the walking they had been doing was generally agreed and the ponies set to a bouncing trot which Bilbo found damnably uncomfortable but which ate up the ground in front of them. Gandalf called a halt at midday and they stopped to sleep, eat and rest the ponies. The rest was short lived and sooner than Bilbo would have liked they had to mount up again and ride onwards, still clinging closer to the trees. When the sun started heading towards the Misty Mountains, casting huge jagged shadows as it passed behind them, the company did not stop to make camp, instead they pushed onwards.
Their everpresent bear shadow did not seem to be following them any longer and Bilbo could only hope that it was because Beorn was dealing with Azog. At night, when he wasn't worrying more about being eaten by wargs, the woods to their left looked a lot more imposing and he suddenly remembered that he'd heard Radagast mention something about before the wargs had attacked the first time - giant spiders. He wasn't afraid of spiders usually, they were just another part of nature and useful for catching flies, but the thought of giant ones was less than comforting. He found himself looking deeper into the trees, worrying about spotting one but eventually he became too tired to care unless they were under attack from them.
They didn't stop at all through the night, although they dismounted several times to walk to the ponies. By the time the sun rose again Bilbo was half asleep on his pony and listing ever so slightly to one side - Bofur, who was riding next to him, would shove him back upright if he ever went a bit to far sideways. He wasn't the only one, Dori and Nori were doing a better job of keeping Ori balanced but the young scribe was just as tired as the hobbit and the rest of the company appeared to be conducting a yawning competition.
"We can't keep pushing 'em like this," Dwalin said, riding next to Thorin, "half of 'em wouldn't wake up if we bwere/b attacked and the little burglar is about to fall off his pony."
Thorin agreed and drew the company to a halt. Sluggishly they made camp and were mostly too tired and stiff to even bother eating before the bedding rolls were broken out and everybody save Gandalf - who didn't seem at all tired - went to sleep. Gandalf looked over the fourteen sleeping figures, this quest was far off the mark he'd intended already and it would only get further so. Certainly he'd intended to give the son of one of his favourite pupils an adventure, surely nobody could have a mother like Belladonna Took and grow up so wholly unadventurous, but this was a little further than he'd intended it to go. Still, what had been started could not stop.
They were all roused in the mid-afternoon, Gandalf having allowed them to sleep as much as possible, and after a short meal that was neither lunch nor dinner nor breakfast but became all three combined they mounted up onto the very well refreshed ponies and trotted onwards.
Once again the dying sun appeared to be eaten by the great jagged teeth of the mountain and the ponies became unusually skittish, sticking together in one group rather than strung out in a line no matter what their riders were attempting to urge them to do. The bridles the ponies were wearing had no bits and the dwarves attempts to get the ponies to move into a line simply by using their legs was not working so there were an awful lot of banged shins and accidental elbowing. Quite what was making the ponies skittish they didn't know until the last rays of the sun had been replaced with the dark of the night, still lit up by the waning moon, and the first bone chilling howl of a warg could be heard.
Far too close behind them, no longer off to the side.
The ponies bolted. Dwarf, hobbit and wizard alike clinging for dear life on to the reins of their ponies. Kili, whose pony was at the back of the herd, risked a look behind them and sure enough, the dark shapes of wargs had broken from the tree-line a few miles behind them and were racing towards them.
"Wargs," he called, though the rush of wind and the thunder of hooves on the ground threatened to steal his words away.
Bilbo gripped the reins even harder, until he could feel his nails bite into his palms, and squeezed his eyes shut - the pony was just as afraid of the wargs as he was, it would take him in any direction that was opposite to one a warg was coming from, all he had to do was stay on it and not be sick.
The forest in front of them curved outwards and they'd intended on following the tree line around, but instead the ponies careened into the forest, no matter the amount of pulling on the right rein they did. The tight herd they'd maintained broke up as the ponies had to dodge nimbly around trees. The forest was dark, low branches smacked the heads and shoulders of the riders and Bilbo could have sworn he felt something sticky. Then he wasn't moving forward any more and he had to open his eyes. In front of him were the ruins of a castle, the woods had fallen away behind him. Instead his pony was turning in frantic circles and, at the cries from its fellows in the distance, it reared up and Bilbo rolled head over furry heels over his pack and onto the ground.
When he got to his feet the pony had already disappeared with his pack into the forest, back northwards. The ring around his neck felt heavy and he began to feel quite strange as, without his particular will, his feet began taking stumbling steps towards the ruined castle, eerie and blue in the moonlight with dark shadows which flickered unnaturally. There was a ringing in his ears, a piercing whine that caused him to clap his hands over his ears but it didn't stop. Another faltering step towards the single bridge into the ruin. Tremendous pressure inside his head. Another step forwards.
A shrill neigh from behind him broke whatever it was that had ahold of him and he turned around to find Thorin on his pony, though the poor creature was prancing in anxiety with its eyes rolling white in its head.
"Come on," Thorin said and Bilbo ran, knees nearly buckling under him, to the pony. One strong arm hauled him upwards and he found himself wedged between Thorin's pack and Thorin as the pony was turned away from the ruin and began to move quickly between the trees, this time in the right direction. Bilbo found himself shaking, even as he clung on to Thorin and his face ended up mashed into the fur of the dwarf's coat, even as the ring grew lighter until it seemed no more of a burden than it had been when he'd first picked it up.
There were wargs right behind them, Thorin only had one hand on the reins and the other had unsheathed Orcrist. The pony seemed to be the one directing them between the trees and Bilbo thought he saw, when he sat a little more upright, a warg with an orc rider crash into a tree as the pony dodged around it. Bilbo could feel the sweat pouring off the animal as it exerted itself and they broke free of the treeline. Too soon, too close, the wargs broke from the trees behind them and the pony seemed to somehow step it up a gear as if it hadn't been running for most of the night.
He couldn't see around Thorin to see if the rest of the company had made it away safely in front of them. He did not dare to try and draw his sword, which had miraculously stayed in its sheath when he fell, to try and defend them, he'd only end up hurting the pony. The chase slowed a little, all of the animals had been running all night and the wargs likely for longer, and Bilbo thanked Beorn again for giving them mounts such as this one.
It was only when the sound of squealing orcs and yelping wargs could be heard behind him that he looked up, he could see the corpses of some of the wargs and the orcs even as they passed into the distance. Another volley of arrows flew overhead and most of their pursuers began falling back. Bilbo lent sideways enough to see around Thorin and in front of them, though a ways off by the river, stood a phlanx of elvish archers, huge bows drawn back with arrows on their strings ready to loose a third volley of arrows to discourage the more intrepid orcs. Still the pony kept on its charge until it came to the banks of the river where it stopped, sides heaving dramatically and sweat streaming down its body. Thorin allowed Bilbo to slither down off of the pony before he dismounted and removed the pack from it. Its legs were shaking worse than Bilbo's as the elves carefully led it on to the barge.
"Thank you," Bilbo said quietly to Thorin, when he found his voice, "for coming back for me, I mean."
"It wouldn't do to leave our hobbit in Mirkwood," Thorin said, "why were you heading for the ruin, if I may ask."
"I don't know," Bilbo said, shaken, "I don't think I was entirely myself, and not in a good way."
"You think it was the…" Thorin cut himself off, looking up at the four elves who were skilfully paddling them around a sharp corner and out of the fast flowing river into a tributary and two of the archers who had stepped on to the barge with them.
"I don't know," Bilbo said, "but I don't much like to think about what would have happened if you hadn't arrived when you did."
"I think we both owe our thanks to this brave girl here," Thorin said, patting the pony who had decided sailing wasn't for her and was laying down on the barge.
"She will be well looked after," one of the archers said, "before she is returned to Beorn."
Eventually they came to a halt at some sort of quay, though it appeared to simply have grown out of the bank, and Bilbo and Thorin were ushered off the boats. There, in a clearing not far from the dock, were the rest of the company save Gandalf. As soon as Thorin and Bilbo came into sight they were rushed by the rest of the dwarves demanding to know if they were well and what on earth had happened. Bofur even began patting Bilbo down to check for injuries until Bilbo assured him that apart from some bruises he was as well as he'd ever been – though that was not strictly true. Thorin described, if quite briefly, their little adventure but would not speak of where he had found Bilbo, since there were still elves around.
"And what happened to all of you?" Bilbo asked, when he could get a word in edgewise.
Fili and Kili took turns telling, or rather interrupted each other's telling of, the story. The wargs had left them behind, presumably to search out Thorin, and they'd gained a very reasonable headstart, reaching the banks of the Anduin just as the elven archers were departing their boats. None of them knew how the elves had known they were coming, but the general consensus was that Gandalf was the one who had done it.
"Ahh Thorin, and Bilbo," came the wizard's familiar voice as he re-joined the group, "I am glad to see that you made it here in one piece."
"We have things which we need to speak to you of, Gandalf," Thorin said.
"I shall be happy to listen," Gandalf said, "but first you are to meet the Lady of Lorien herself. Follow me."
Dutifully the company trotted after him and there was a collective groan at the sight of the huge, illuminated, spiral staircase leading up to a glowing bower.
When I first wrote this at least half of it was completely unexpected.
Reviews are always appreciated.
