Chapter 7: A long and lonely road

With Bree falling behind in the pale blue haze of another spring morning they left the settled lands again as well as the road. Left of them rose the crags of the Cold heights while the long ridges of the south hills greeted them. A fresh wind blew from the east and the sun was already warm. The column of riders moved quickly, the ponies hardy enough to take the rough grounds well. Boromir was rear guard that day and watched the riders ahead and the land around them with sharp eyes. He had an eye out for the second pack pony, Myrtle, which was now ridden by the company burglar. Bilbo was not much of a rider but he and Myrtle got along well enough, except the pony sometimes had its own mind where to go.

Far away on the eastern horizon the snowcapped peaks of the Misty Mountains rose, only a glimmer against the blue skies. Still they made Boromir smile; he had never realized how much he had become at home on this side of the mountains ever since he had chosen to follow Kili to Moria. He did not know when he had fallen in love with this lonely, wild land, but seeing it now under the warm spring sun, awakening to the long windy summer of Eriador, felt as much like being home as had the shadow of grey Mindolluin in his youth. Only that Eriador was not a nice land, it was untamed and dangerous, not caring for those who loved it, this land would crush you if you were not strong enough to bear loving it.

"You are in awfully good mood today," Bofur, who had been riding at the end of the column observed. "The next we'll hear is you sharing a song with the rest of us." He and the others had often sung while riding in the past days, and while Boromir was familiar with a great number of their travelling songs, ballads and occasional tavern songs, he had mostly listened.

"You could ask Bilbo for a song," Boromir replied. "I dare say his people must have more tavern songs than yours, if that's possible at all."

The dwarven miner laughed, guiding his pony beside Boromir's horse as they continued. "I have to say, for someone of the menfolk you fit well with us. Strange though that might seem, but sometimes when you look at Kili… there's that expression you have, like you are seeing someone that's not there. Something is worrying you."

Travelling the lone lands had reminded Boromir several times at how he and Kili had met originally, but it was not a sad memory, he was glad he was here. "No, nothing like that Bofur," Boromir replied. "I am sometimes worried, that's all. Thorin takes both of his heirs on this quest, if things go badly…" He shrugged. "I understand that they could never inherit a throne they did not fight for, but… it's risky still."

"No, you are seeing this all wrong," Bofur said with a smile, all intent in calming Boromir's worries. "they are of Durin's blood, of the true house, it's something they do. They are born for such things, they aren't like you and I in that regard. For us it is alright to prefer safety, or to choose to shield our children and evade danger, but them… they are different. Heroes. They couldn't take any other road."

Sometimes Boromir wondered how strong the legend of Durin's blood was, how strongly it lived with all their dwarven companions, especially with those of simple background. Of course he knew how this legend had grown, from Moria, to the Ered Mithrin, to Erebor and back to the Ered Luin, through loss and plenty, war and peace, Durin's blood had proven capable leaders, brave fighters and they had led their people through the storms of a merciless world with skill and determination. And while Thorin certainly was somewhat aloof, he never was haughty or conceited; he shared watches, hardships and duties with his lesser comrades as a matter of course, which made him an admired and respected leader.

That night they camped on a high ridge in the cold heights, the place was well hidden and a good deal off the great east road. Sitting with his back to the rocks, Boromir had allowed himself to doze off; his watch hour would be before dawn, the dog watch when the mists rose. It was the shriek that startled him into full awareness at once, a definite high pitched Orc shriek echoing through the dark. His hand was already on his sword and he was half up his feet, but Dwalin put his huge paw on his arm. "No need for alarm, that's far away, at least a mile, maybe more."

Sitting back but too wide awake to sleep again, Boromir noticed Bilbo coming back from the ponies. "What was that?" the Halfling asked, definitely startled by the shriek in the night.

"Orcs," it was Fili who responded. "Throat-cutters. There'd be dozens of them out there. The lone lands are crawling with them." He spoke calmly, but seriously, his eyes straying out into the dark.

Another short shriek echoed in the wind, both brothers tensing visibly. Kili stared into the direction from where the voice had come. "They strike, in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood." The first words had been spoken calmly, but as he continued his eyes widened, genuine horror shining in them for a moment. It left as quickly as it appeared, the young dwarven warrior remembering where he was, getting a soft nudge from his brother. Fili and Kili looked at each other, chuckling suddenly at Bilbo's fearful face.

Boromir was not fooled, Kili may be quick in covering his own slip up, but even without the bond the expression in his eyes spoke of a wealth of horror, of something terrible. Before Boromir could react, Thorin had, sharply chastising both for the joke. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" he snapped at them, answering their apologies with another curt rebuke.

The warrior frowned, while he understood that Thorin would not allow them to tease Bilbo too much, he wondered why the dwarven King would react so strongly. It was Balin who softened the entire situation by joining them near the fire. The old warrior's eyes went to Thorin and back to them before he began to speak, telling them of Azanulbizar and Thorin's fight against Azog.

Along with the others Boromir listened to the story. While he had heard the story of the battle of course, he had never a survivor speak of it, Dwalin had but only once and he had been so drunk that nothing he said made any real sense. It was not the events he heard of, but the way Balin related them, that made this story special. It was the tale of one man turning a battle around, confronting the worst enemy… crippling the foe enough to enforce a retreat. At this moment it was not the legend of a dwarf king long dead in the battle but of the man standing a good few paces away staring into the darkness.

ADL

It was in the silence that followed Bilbo's question about the pale Orc that Thorin noticed Kili having slipped away into the darkness. The young dwarf was swift and soft-footed enough to do this mostly unnoticed. Drained, and tired from remembering too many old wounds, Thorin could well imagine what feelings had driven his son away from the others. His eyes searched for Fili who was still sitting by the fire, returning his gaze with a friendly nod. Thorin's heart clenched, steadfast, reliable Fili the pillar they had often turned to. He carried much of the same burdens, the same hurts and yet he was always there when they needed him. Right now he raised his chin, a minuscule gesture to the left, indicating the direction Kili had taken when he slipped away.

Turning around he headed off into the darkness, finding Kili not all that far from the edge of the cliff. The young dwarf had wrapped his arms around himself, his shoulders shaking, even as he made no sound, biting down the audible signs of distress. Seeing him there and seeing the steep ledge below Thorin remembered as well.

It had been the time when Dis' long illness had compelled him to take the two boys along on his travels. They had been dwarflings still, only in their late twenties and early thirties, already able to help in the smithy, but still so very young. On their way south they had journeyed with a small caravan of men, traders headed for Tharbad, some craftsmen with the same destination. They had made camp one night on an exposed hill west of the Swanfleet. Thorin had warned them, that spot was too convenient and not good to defend. They had not listened, telling him to shut up. With a heavy heart he had left, climbing the rock face above the place. They had spent the night up there, the two young dwarflings cuddled into his fur cloak, which hardly gave protection from the icy wind. In the hour before dawn the Orcs had come, a quick, quiet night raid. Alone, with only the two boys he had no chance to help the camp; all he could do had been holding the boys close, keeping them quiet while the bloodbath happened below.

"If you are here to tell me off for being weak, go ahead," Kili spoke in a hush, not trusting his voice to speak any louder. He still looked down on the dark land below, but he had heard Thorin's approach, knowing his step like none other.

Thorin bridged the gap between them, putting an arm around the lad, much like he had done when Kili was younger. "If that is a weakness, I am not any stronger," he said gruffly. "there are things… once you have seen them, you never forget."

Kili actually returned the half-hug, looking at Thorin, his dark eyes stormy. "Do you? You never seem bothered not even when they speak of the pale Orc." He pointed out.

"I just hide it better." Thorin sighed; he never managed to keep the steely façade with his son, and nephew. The two small dwarflings had wormed their way into his heart from the time they had been able to walk and follow him all about the Ered Luin. The two younglings had disregarded his glares, growls and the occasional snap, effortlessly getting past the armor he had guarded his soul with. They were his prime weakness, and the reason he had stayed strong all those long dark years.

Suddenly Thorin felt a strong hug, Kili having read too much in his eyes and reacting to the pain he saw there. "You don't have to bear it all alone," he whispered. "you have us."

Thorin hugged him close, ruffling the wild dark hair. The first time he had heard that, had been only a few years after that horrible night, during their travels. Coming back to their camp, tired and injured, the boys had hugged him like that, with Fili saying those exact words.

"I should protect you from that, I should never have allowed you to see such things…" Thorin wished he could have. They should have been born in the halls of Erebor, as Princes of their people, not wandering the roads of Middle Earth with him in search for work.

Kili pulled back, his hands resting on Thorin's shoulders, a manly gesture he had yet to grow into fully. "I would not have it any other way," the young warrior said fiercely. "I'd rather have seen it and been with you, than knowing you went through all of that alone."

ADL

The days that followed were cold and stormy, the weather taking a turn for worse, rain battered down on them and the wind turned west, bringing clouds and rain from the far away western seas. When the rain finally ceased after four days the wind remained cool and the group was tired. The night before they had been forced to fight off an orc band, sleep had been scarce. Most of them were relieved when Thorin called for an early halt that afternoon.

Boromir looked around the hillside landscape and the rocks. He knew this place. In another time he had come here in autumn with Kili, the ruin of the house had been gone but three stone figures had graced the hill instead. Trollshaws.

"That house looks like it was destroyed not that long ago," he said to Thorin as they dismounted. "And the fields are not fully overgrown yet. This farm has not been in ruins for longer than a year or two."

The dwarf leader cast him a sharp glance that said quite clearly that he had not asked for advice. "Many a home in the hills has been destroyed," he replied walking off to speak to Gandalf. That talk did not go well, which became obvious when the Grey Wizard stormed off angrily and Thorin called for them to make camp. "Fili and Kili, look after the ponies, stay with them."

Following the brothers, Boromir helped to herd the ponies to the ruins of the barn. "Let's keep them together," he said to Fili. "this place gives me the chills."

The blond dwarf put a hand on his arm. "Such ruins make you sad, I know." He said. "But there are no ghosts to haunt them. Whoever dwelt here, they went home to their ancestors." Still, the brothers agreed to keep the ponies within the confines of the ruined barn and the old yard, which made it easy to keep track of them. Between them and Boromir the ponies were speedily taken care of.

They still had the sixteen ponies and one horse by the time Bilbo brought them the stew. "Are you going to sleep here?" he asked.

"Yes, it will make taking turns on guard duty easier." Kili told him. "If you want to escape Bombur's snoring, you are welcome at our fire." These words earned him a smile from the Halfling who got his own bowl and sat down with them. They were watchful, careful to keep an eye on the ponies, as the night set in.

It was an hour after sundown when Dwalin hastened to them. "Burglar, watch the ponies, Kili, Fili, come along, Dori's vanished." He said, gesturing them to follow him.

They headed back to the main camp, where the group was assembled. "He just went to answer a call of nature," Ori snapped desperately at Balin. "He did not do anything."

Thorin cast him a sharp glance that silenced him. "But gone he is, Ori and we must find him." He saw Dwalin return with the other three. "Kili, Fili, take Boromir and go east, see what you can find. Nori, you take Balin and Gloin go the other side, towards the stream, Dwalin, Oin, Ori you are with me."

ADL

The forest was pitch black, there was no moon in the stormy skies of that night, Boromir hardly saw Kili glide through the shadows of the woods before him. Fili was at his side, moving nearly as soft-footedly. They came across a hill oak freshly uprooted, and another lying not far away. "Not good," Fili whispered. "That can mean only one thing."

"Trolls," Boromir agreed, there was no other conclusion in Eriador, or anywhere else for that matter. The only other creature able to uproot a tree like that was giants, and they fortunately were a rare breed.

"Look there," Kili had advanced ahead and spotted the flickering light of a fire ahead of them between the rocks. The same moment a scream, a shout for help echoed through the night. The young dwarf spat a curse, drew his sword and raced towards the fire, with Fili right behind him. Boromir lost no time to follow; those two really were leaping without looking.

They reached a clearing with three trolls, about to toss Dori into a cooking pot. The dwarf tried to escape the troll's grip and screamed when he was beaten with the iron ladle of the trolls.

Kili leaped over the boulder, his sword slicing the troll's leg, only a scratch of the thick skin. "Drop him!" he shouted challengingly.

"What did you say?" One of the trolls asked in his crude tongue.

"I said: drop him," Kili whirled the blade in his hand, and had hardly the time to duck, when the troll actually threw Dori at him. Fili leaped out to support his brother at the same moment Thorin and his companions attacked from the other side, the dwarves storming the camp.

The fight was chaotic, fourteen fighters against three trolls. Boromir was far from underestimating the gigantic opponents. He had fought Olog-hai in battle, and knew they were tough adversaries. He saw Dwalin duck, providing the aid for Thorin to jump and hit the troll's arm; the next moment Dwalin's hammer hit the troll head, leaving the creature dazed.

Boromir tackled the troll that had just tossed Fili across the camp. The huge paw of the stinking creature came down to grab him, he did not evade, and coldly he stood ramming his sword right into the palm. The troll howled, black blood smearing the sword; he kicked Boromir, tossing the warrior through the air. Boromir tumbled onto his feet, behind the troll Kili approached, his sword cutting through the knees of the beast. He had hit the sinews, for the troll fell forward to his knees. It was all Boromir needed to react. He raced to the troll, running up the broad arm and on his back, bringing the blade down in the neck, where the spine connected with the skull. An ugly crack told him his aim had been true, for the troll fell forward, dead.

The Gondorian just managed to yank his sword free and jump off the carcass, when he saw the trolls raising someone caught in their grip above them. "Drop your arms or we rip his off!"

With a sinking heart Boromir saw that the trolls had recaptured Dori. He looked to Thorin, whose face was stony and unreadable, it was impossible to guess what the dwarf leader was thinking. When Kili had told him of Thorin's decision for Bilbo, Boromir had admired the noble spirit of that decision, to rather die together than to give up a comrade. Now that he stood here, he wondered… everything in him told him not to give up the mission, not for one man. But Thorin threw his sword away.

ADL

A hit to the chest by the ladle ripped the breath from Boromir's body. "He killed William," the angry troll all but shouted. "We should make him scream."

"No, we should beat him to minced meat and serve him with onion." Another set of beatings fell, and Boromir bit his lip, not giving them the satisfaction of a scream.

"Hurry up, we don't have all day!" Tom complained, tossing some more wood on the fire. "Let's just roast him with the rest. He has some more meat than them." Bert, the cook, added a few more hits for good measure before he tied Boromir up on the spit where some of the others were already ready to be grilled.

Thorin struggled with the bonds, trying to break free. Kili, tied up next to him had been shaking with every blow dealt by the troll, like they were hitting him instead of the human warrior. What would happen when the trolls truly grilled the others? Dwalin… he too was tied up there. Again the dwarf spanned his powerful arms to break his bonds. "Hold still, confusticated dwarves!" he heard a small voice whisper.

"Burglar?" Thorin hardly dared to move his lips; he had not heard the Halfling move close.

"Who else? Now hold still." Bilbo whispered back, he was crouched behind the rocks where the trolls had deposited the captives.

The small blade of a kitchen knife cut through Thorin's bonds, freeing his hands, the dwarven king was careful not to give away that he was free while Bilbo worked on freeing Kili and then Gloin.

"That little ferret is stealing our food!" The shout of the troll announced that that had been discovered. Thorin leaped to his feet, he had nothing to fight with, so he grabbed one of the troll' roasting spits, throwing it with all his strength, hitting the cook troll's eyes precisely. The creature fell, only moments before the boulder behind them broke apart and Gandalf's voice echoed through the fading darkness. "The dawn shall take you all!"

ADL

Being off the roasting spit, the nearly roasted of the group had to search through a pile of things to find their armor and weapons again. Boromir was glad to feel the familiar weight of the chainmail again, he had had many close calls in his life, nearly reaching the halls eternal more than once but coming within a hair's breadth of being served for dinner was a new one.

"Are you alright?" Kili had joined him, the young dwarf looked shaken. "I… I felt what they did…"

The bond had carried his pain to his friend, how often had they shared the pain of injuries, of survival? "I am fine, Kili, I've had worse." Boromir told him. "What about you?"

"Dazed, it's nothing." Kili had fished his bow from the weapon's pile. "That was too close."

"Agreed." Boromir's answer was cut short when Balin handed him his sword, which had been lying on the bottom of the pile. The blacksteel blade was still slick with troll blood; he would have to clean it off at once. The longsword fit his hand perfectly.

"A good weapon, Boromir," Balin observed. "Where did you get it? I do not recognize the make, and I would dare say I know the works of most spellsmiths of our people."

"It is Kili's work," Boromir told the old dwarf, seeing understanding dawn in his eyes, along with surprise. "It is a wonderful weapon."

"Aye," Balin cast a curious glance on the sword, like assessing it again. "I did not know that Kili had already manifested the flame." He murmured, then quickly changing topic. "Will you name it?"

"Trollbane? No, it deserves better." Boromir laughed. "I think it will get its chance sooner or later. This was a skirimish, not a great deed."

"Killing a troll single-handedly, should qualify." Thorin had joined them, the extended hand making clear he wanted to see the blade.

Boromir handed him the sword. "You got the second one with that roasting spit." He pointed out. "And it was Kili who brought the Troll to his knees so I could kill him."

Thorin examined the blacksteel sword with the intense glance of a spellsmith, sensing all the power, the wild angry energy that had been forged into the steel. How had Kili manifested the talent so young? "That was desperation," he replied. "you fought that troll coldly, waiting to get to the weak spot. Like it was not your first fight against their kind."

Olog-hai had been staple in the armies of the shadow, but Boromir could hardly tell Thorin that he had faced them in battle. "There's places where they are be used in war," he said, not going into detail.

Thorin handed the blade back. "A worthy weapon, beware its anger." He checked that the others were alright as well. "Trolls could not move in daylight, there must be a cave nearby." He announced, sending them off to search.

Author's note

The chapter title is taken from Tolkien's poem "The Mewlips"

Many thanks go again to Harrylee94 who patiently did late night work on this chapter and keeps inspiring me.