The Black Easterling
The days that passed were grim to say the very least. Luckily, Esgaroth and Dale had minor damages to their walls with their people not damaged aside from those who were taken by the Easterlings in battle. The dead of the allies were taken by their loved ones to massive pyre far from Erebor and the twin cities, but the Easterlings were taken care of by carrions overhead, which had been pining for days on end for the rotten flesh. However, today something, or for a better description, someone came to the gates of Erebor seeking entrance.
Coruwen pressed a hand to her husband's side as she removed the bandages to stitch up the wound. What stitches had been put in became loosened because of Thorin's inability to listen to her. Fili had been rather good, listening to his aunt and not moving from his spot in the sitting room. Thorin glanced down at Coruwen as she tightened the loose stitches, and then replaced different ones that could not manually fixed.
"Coruwen, for the last time, I am fine," Thorin assured her. Her gaze did not rise, but she pulled on a stitch making him wince. She had been rather cross with him since their small dispute on the battlefield. In fact, she had been rather frightening to say the least. Her glares were dark and her words fierce.
"You are not to move from this spot unless someone goes with you, understand? I do not wish to fix these for a second time," Coruwen ordered tying the end of the stitches. He watched her leave his side to check on Kili's injured arm. An Easterling halberdier had stuck his spear into the dwarf's arm all the way through like a massive arrow, thus rendering the archer's arm useless. Dís had been fretting over the matter of her sons being injured, but Coruwen had found something to occupy the princess' fretting.
"I bet that would please you," Thorin muttered leaning into the back of his chair. He heard a snicker followed by a pillow hitting him in the face. Coruwen had moved from Kili to Fili, both of whom were smiling down at their aunt.
"Now Uncle," Fili scolded. "Auntie is just being considerate." Kili scoffed, and Fili tugged on his hair making him yelp. Thorin shook his head at the boys, finding it hard to believe they honestly thought Coruwen was being considerate. She was silently torturing him with her cold behavior along with her ability to cause him pain right now. Typically, he would have cared… But he had people to take care of; he could not be sitting around like this.
"No, your aunt is having fun torturing me," He reiterated. The elf queen let out a huff of laughter as she passed him to set down a tray. "Considering I cannot move without her hounding me."
"I can always go find Dís," Coruwen pointed out.
"No, no need for that," The boys chimed. "Auntie, we'll keep an eye on uncle, you go check up on everything outside."
The elleth eyed her nephews curiously. She thought it over for a moment before nodding. She left the room to find Dís chasing after Sol, who was trying to enter the room. Since she had gotten taller, Sol thought she could potently take down a bear, and then sneak past a group of assassins. Dís, on the other hand, had raised two boys thus knowing all of the little tricks that little ones pulled. The princess grabbed Sol's arm, dragging her to the floor.
"Let me go!" Sol yelled, fighting Dís' grip.
"No, you cannot go see the boys yet. They haven't healed fully," Dís reminded. Coruwen walked up to her sister in law, and placed her hand over the princess'. Sol quit her kicking and flailing to look up at the queen. "Sister, how are they?"
"Fine… Your brother now has to be put under the watch of the boys because he does not understand that his wound is quite severe. Other than that, everything is fine," Coruwen stated flatly. She patted Sol's red head, and the girl frowned. "You can go see the boys, little one. You just cannot bounce and roughhouse, understand?"
Sol's green eyes lit up as a smile crept across her face. She threw her arms around the queen's neck in a hug before running off. Dís regarded Coruwen in a mixture of shock and disbelief. Slowly, she spoke, "Very typical of my brother. He puts his people first, even if he were dying."
"I am still rather upset at him for what he said to me when the battle came. He knows I was only trying to think rationally; even if that meant I had to give up my own life for the sake of his and the boys' safety."
"It was a little irrational."
"That I agree with, but your brother… He did not seem to understand it as much as I thought he would have."
"Thorin loves you; he won't give you away to death that easily."
Coruwen sighed, running a hand through her gold hair. "Even when we are dead, Thorin will still be my dragon."
Dís chuckled at the nickname. "Careful now, don't want him hearing that."
"I've called him that before. All he does is just growl, which is not threat to me." Coruwen started towards the Hall of Thror. "Want to come with me while I check up on everyone?"
Dís smiled, following her sister up the stairs to the main hall where they found Balin, Dwalin, and Gloín all awaiting them. The three joined the women as they entered the main hall to hear a booming, gruff voice. There, standing at the base of the throne was Dain Ironfoot with Cairn resting on his shoulder.
"Dain!" Dís yelped. Dain turned his head with a smile creasing his face. As of late, Dain was starting to turn white from age; though age did not taint the warrior fire in his eyes nor his gruff attitude. "W-What are you-?"
"Doing here? Well, I was going to help the lot of you with the Easterling hamsters, but you had a bit of aid towards the end, no?" Dain replied with happiness mingling with his voice. Coruwen found it strange; Dain was typically stern and fierce. Now, he was reformed by battle to a happy state. When most would be grieved, Dain was happy. The Lord stopped before Coruwen, eyeing her. "You miscalculated the Easterlings on my art, just so we're clear."
"And that is simply a miscount of foresight, my lord. And whatever casualties you obtained, I apologize." Coruwen said with a bow of her head.
"What are you being sorry for?! That rush was what I needed! Hell, had those buggers not come sooner I might have started exiling people for kicks," Dain boomed. Coruwen and Dís shared a rather confused look between them. This dwarf was not Dain Ironfoot at all. Coruwen was pretty sure that it was some disguise or some sort of evil trickery. "Anyway, where is my cousin? I need to chew him out for getting hurt."
"Down the stairs, to the right," Dís said.
As Dain descended the stairs, he grumbled about stairs being a stupid idea to put in a mountain. After he was gone, Coruwen looked at Dís curiously. Balin chuckled while Dwalin and Gloín stared at the lord in confusion.
"What just happened?" Gloín whispered.
"I believe Dain was happy," Dwalin replied. "I am slightly frightened."
"Then that makes two of us," Coruwen said quietly. She whirled around and entered the main hall to find the golden tabernacle sitting in the middle with light glittering off of the intercut designs. In her mind's eye, Coruwen saw a looming shadow hanging over its head. She did not want this thing in her home. "I thought Bard was taking it home with him."
"Was," Balin reminded walking beside his queen. The elf let out a groan, shaking her head. "Iris was rather adamant that it be sent here. The Elvenking has been rather cautious around it, along with any of the elf-host."
"I can see why," Coruwen whispered low enough for Balin to hear. "This tabernacle holds a great evil."
"It is a box, milady," Balin replied. "I highly doubt it can eat anyone."
Coruwen swatted the advisor's arm, and he chuckled. "Balin, listen to me; this thing needs to go somewhere else."
Dwalin walked past the two, up to the box, and tapped it with his boot. Coruwen winced, awaiting damage to be inflicted upon the warrior. Nothing happened. Nothing moved, nothing so much as stirred. Gloín was the next to walk up to the box, running his hands across the top.
Click.
"What the-?" Gloín asked as he stumbled backwards. His dark eyes narrowed at the box, and he approached it a second time. Dwalin bumped the box a second time with his boot, forcing the lid of the box to slide over. "Hey, that did something."
"Stop touching the box," Coruwen ordered. Something about it seemed foul. The gold was of similar darkness to that of the gold formed by the old Dwarven rings forged by Annatar. The way the gold caught the light, shimmering like a great mirror. The animals and Rhunic language pressed into the tabernacle seemed all too realistic. Maybe it was her elven nature that wanted them to stop, or her love of the race. Whatever the cause was, she did not want the dwarves touching the tabernacle.
"Why?"
Coruwen pinched the space between her eyes, feeling a bit stretched. Typical question: Why can I not touch the gold box? She strode forward, placing a hand on the box's lid and from within something writhed like a serpent. "Something is telling me that this tabernacle is not what we think it is."
Dís walked up to Coruwen, tugging on the queen's hand. "Coruwen is right, gentlemen. Do not touch this box unless someone higher up orders it so," She said. Dís felt Coruwen's hands rest on her shoulders as she walked away. "If we catch you touching the box, there will be hell to pay."
"Yes, Lady Dís," Gloín muttered like a scolded child. Dwalin huffed, walking out of the room to another section of Erebor.
Coruwen walked up to the steps of the throne and sat before it with her hands covering her face. Never before had she felt so internally sick. When her hand had touched the tabernacle, something played with her mind in a perverted way. The external force had gone through her mind causing her to freeze. The feeling was similar to that of a spider walking its way across your skin with its slow, cat like movements. Coruwen's stomach twisted into knots, forcing her curl her knees close to her bowed head.
"Coruwen, what is the matter?" Dís inquired walking up to her side. The princess placed a hand on the queen's back, and she curled tighter. "Coruwen?"
"Dís, something is wrong," Coruwen murmured as her mind's eye blurred. "Something is very wrong with that tabernacle."
"What do I need to do?"
"Find Thranduil, and bring him to me…"
Dís didn't question why the elleth needed the Elvenking, but she left the main hall in search of him. She climbed various staircases in her search, but to no avail. She found several elven healers, but no Elvenking. She bumped into one of his generals, who glared down at her when she asked where the king was. Dís hated elves more than her brother right now, for all of them glared down at her with a look of contempt or great disdain. When she found a female healer with red hair, she asked where Thranduil might be.
"He told me that he was going to visit the King under the Mountain." The red head replied. "Is something the matter?"
Dís glanced over her shoulder as she was about to leave. "Uh, important matter," Dís said quickly as she darted off. She could hear the voices of her sons, brother, cousin and the Elvenking from within her brother's room. She slid her hand into the crack, prying the door open and heard her sons hit the ground.
"Dís," Dain said in mild shock, standing to his full height. She cast a look at Thorin, who was staring at her with narrowed eyes. When her brother caught her look, he motioned for Dain to sit. Begrudgingly, Dain sat back in his chair.
"Thranduil, The queen needs you for a moment," Dís stated, glancing at the elf king. Thranduil bowed his head and departed the room with a swift gait. Over the side of the low table, Dís saw Fili's blonde head poke up as he eyed her. "Boys, get up for goodness sake."
"Kili, let me go," Fili grumbled. Her older son managed to wriggle free of Kili's grip and sit back on the couch. Kili leaned his head against his brother's leg, watching his mother intently. "Amad, what happened?"
"Coruwen is having a bad reaction about the tabernacle we received from the Easterlings." Dís replied. Dain let out a hum, and Thorin sighed with one hand resting over his eyes. "She touched it once and became ungodly white as if she was sick."
"Bloody elves," Dain grumbled. Dís watched her brother glare up at the lord darkly, and her own heart stopped. She knew that dark glare; whether or not Dain did was debatable. "However, the elf queen has shown her quality to me through the saving of my kin."
"Do we even know what is in the tabernacle?" Fili asked, putting a hand on Kili's head. Dís could see from her younger son's expression that he was only putting up with his brother's antics because she and Dain were in the room.
"No, all Coruwen said was that there was a shadow above it," She answered.
"She said that a few days before the Easterlings attacked," Thorin interjected, drawing her attention over to him. "She said that the Easterlings had a great shadow over them. That tabernacle could be the shadow. Not much scares Coruwen to the point of terror, but that box does."
"What do we do with it then?"
Physically, Dís saw her brother tense up at the question. What could they do against something with that much power in it? It was unsettling to know that Coruwen was unnerved by the tabernacle's presence alone. She had heard the quiver in the queen's voice as she told her to find Thranduil. Something was very wrong…
"We need to find out what is inside of the box," Thorin said.
"I thought that was causing Coruwen's problems," Fili contradicted.
Thorin shot a sideways glance at his oldest nephew. "It could be nothing more than an artifact that is bothering her. Simple things like that have been known to bother her. Freya's necklace was a prime example of her uncertainty."
"Right, but Freya's necklace held some good in it. And from what she told me, her mind saw a double sided coin of dark and light. This seems bigger."
Dís gave her brother a firm stare, and she walked toward him. "What does your bond with her tell you, brother?" She inquired.
The king flexed his right hand where his ring rested, and it was the same hand that had received the Blessing of Freya. He had to listen to his spirit that was entwined with Coruwen's. He shut his eyes searching for her throughout the mountain. When he found her, he grabbed a hold of her spirit listening to her voice that came through.
"What is wrong?" She inquired.
"What is inside that tabernacle that is frightening you?" He said firmly. Concern clouded his vision of her spirit. The gold aura that typically surrounded her was flickering like a candle being tossed by a strong wind. "Coruwen, do not give away."
"I'm not trying to," She replied shortly. "Something is forcing me away… I do not know what is in the tabernacle; all I know is that it is dark and vile. Thranduil is attempting to unlock it right now with Gloín."
"Can you wait until Dain and Dís get there?"
"Not exactly, I-," Her voice slipped away as a black shadow wrapped itself around her presence tearing him away from her. All he could see was the outline of what looked like an Easterling General, similar to the one that had charged at him. The robes were black with a dark grey, almost black, four pronged helm stood against the bright aura of Coruwen, who was being swallowed by the black form. The form raised its head revealing beige-gold eyes that seemed to be on fire glaring at him. It hissed at him resembling a snake.
Thorin snapped back into reality, staring up at his sister. "Go, now," He ordered. "Something is here."
Dís and Dain ran from the room heading towards the Hall of Thror where the tabernacle sat. Dain entered first, trying to stop Thranduil from pushing the last lock that held the tabernacle together. Dís strode forward and knelt before Coruwen, who was glaring up at the tabernacle with a strange glint in her eyes. It was turning her blue eyes to the color of blackened sky.
"Coruwen, what-," Dís asked quietly.
"Get away from the tabernacle!" Thranduil shouted as the sound of gears clicking filled the room. The gold walls of the tabernacle peeled away revealing a wooden box with writing lit aglow by some strange force. The Elvenking had his blade drawn, pointing the tip towards the box. Several large clock gears stood at the four corners of the box, slowly unraveling themselves in a series of clicks and thumps. Everyone stood sentinel as the final gears came to a halt.
And the air became thick with tension.
Hesitantly, Coruwen stood and approached the box with the odd blankness in her eyes. Her hand reached for the black box, touching the top with gentle fingertips. Something was off… Dís could feel it in her bones at the sight of the box. As she took a step forward to stop Coruwen, mist seeped from the mouth of the box like a dragon breathes smoke. It came out in white, translucent tendrils gracing everyone's feet and climbing the pillars like ivy. It danced around the room, grasping onto anything it touched.
"Coruwen, get away from the box," Thranduil warned, swatting at a misty hand that petted his face. He didn't have time to stop the mist from circling back around to face the elf queen, who stood before the box. The mist swirled, forming a hooded figure with gauntlets formed of crude, rusted steel that curled around the elleth's throat. "Morn Rhûn Abonnen." The Elvenking ran at the figure and cut the misty hand away from Coruwen's neck. She fell to the ground as the figure recoiled.
"What the hell is that?" Dain shouted.
"The Black Easterling, Khamûl. He is one of the Nazgûl," Thranduil replied, picking up the limp queen. "I thought there was something foul about that box. We need to get rid of it!"
"Oh yes, excellent idea! How in the hell are we going to get that thing out of here?!" Dain barked as he dodged tendrils of white mist that attempted to grab his ankles.
"Smash it!" Dís said as the idea came to mind. "Gloín, Dain smash the box."
"I can do that!" Dain laughed, storming towards the box. He dodged the swing of a Rhunic blade and lodged his axe's blade into the box's side thus ripping away one side. The side of Khamûl became semi corporeal with long black fabric tumbling to the floor. Dain laughed and tore away another side of the coffin with the same effect happening to Khamûl. The Nazgûl shrieked, swinging his Rhunic blade at the lord wildly. "Any day you wanna help, elf!"
Thranduil scowled, set down Coruwen, and dug his blade into the coffin and taking out a large chunk of wood. The last side remained close to both leaders, who leapt at the chance to remove the Nazgûl from the kingdom. Upon the last hinge being broken, Khamûl whirled around and swung his blade at Thranduil, who dodged to the side but could not stop the blade from hitting the person behind him.
A scream ripped through the air making Thranduil freeze.
Behind him, Khamûl's blade lay at his side dripping with blood and Coruwen's back with a long scratch marring it. The Elvenking's blood froze in his veins when he saw blood seep onto the floor from her back. The Nazgûl knocked him off balance and fled the great kingdom with great swiftness.
Coruwen lay shaking before the Elvenking as he knelt beside her, cradling the elleth in his arms. Her eyes were wide with horror and she let out another scream that made him stiffen. In the back of his mind, Thranduil felt dread creep upon him like a cat stalks a mouse. And he felt like the mouse; whoever was the cat made him unnerved.
"Naruhel!" Thranduil shouted after Coruwen's scream died away. "Moriel!" He passed his hand across Coruwen's gold hair as she clung to him tightly. Gloín and Dís were hovering nearby watching with slightly appalled expression. The Elvenking sighed, "Thank Eru, it was not a Morgul-Blade."
"I'd be more afraid of the King's wrath," Gloín stated simply. "He is going to skin you."
"And I will take whatever punishment comes at me, but your people cannot heal this wound easily," Thranduil replied firmly. The sound of a Moriel and Naruhel entering the hall made him turn his gaze up to them. Moriel gave him a stern look, and Naruhel gasped. "Quickly."
"What did you do?" Moriel growled.
"I did nothing," Thranduil reiterated. "Reflexes are my enemy today."
Naruhel knelt down with white dress pooling around her, and soaking up the blood that dripped from Coruwen's back. The elleth's face was pale; almost ghost like when her eyes fell on the wound. The healer's fingers leapt on and off of the marred skin. "Was it made by a Morgul-Blade?" Naruhel inquired. The Elvenking shook his head. "Moriel, we need to take her somewhere else."
"Way ahead of you," Moriel replied dragging a piece of broken wood, removed her cloak, and gestured for Coruwen to be placed on the wooden board. "Quickly, woman."
Naruhel and Thranduil dragged the queen over to the board, laying her on the board. As her back touched the wood, she whimpered in pain, fighting Thranduil's grip on her. The Elvenking held her still as Naruhel wrapped Moriel's cloak around her. The ellith carried the queen off to a secluded room, and Thranduil released a stressed laced breath. He all ready had bad ties with the King under the Mountain, but the injury of his queen could possibly end up badly. Fear gripped the Elvenking's spirit tightly.
He was going to have to tell Thorin that Coruwen was hurt… And he desired not to do that, at all. In fact, he would rather avoid such a conversation. His sister could not control him, nor could anyone else aside from Coruwen.
Thranduil had remembered what Himon had told him: injuring the Lady Coruwen and then telling the King under the Mountain is similar to evoking the wrath of a dragon. Either you run away and are then treated as a criminal, or you face him and lose your head.
Thranduil swallowed his fear, having made up his mind and left for Thorin's chambers. When he entered, the King gave him an incline of his head in greeting, but as the Elvenking look at Thorin he saw great concern brooding.
"Was I correct?" Thorin inquired, leaning on the heel of his hand. "Was there a creature there?"
"More like a creature you only hear stories about," Thranduil replied. The dwarf king narrowed his eyes at him. "The Black Easterling, Khamûl, was in that tabernacle."
"Khamûl? You speak of the Nazgûl lieutenant?"
"Aye, there is no other," Thranduil hesitated upon speaking again, feeling his fear for the king's wrath come forward. He had seen dwarves angry, but some were far nastier than others when it came to that particular emotion. The Line of Thror was known not only for their rightful place as King under the Mountain, but for their spiteful anger among other things. Though, The Elvenking noticed that Thorin had become less apt to explode into a rage as he would have a few years ago. "Khamûl attacked us, and he has fled. I received a few scratches, along with your wife-,"
"Where is she?" Thorin's voice became dangerously dark and venomous. The dark blue of his eyes seemed to turn into a wrathful fire whilst his hands curled around the arms of his chair. "Where is Coruwen?"
"She was injured by Khamûl's blade when I dodged an attack. A fatal mistake," The king choked out the latter, which hurt his pride to say. "Upon my part."
"You're reason she's injured?" Thorin stood from his chair, using Orcrist as a walking stick. He let out a string of curses at the ellon that made both, Kili and Fili's eyes grow wide with shock. Thorin stood in front of the Elvenking with eyes narrowed into a venomous glare. "I should have you hunted for sport, elf… May your people never find any comfort from the darkness of this world and the next!"
"I understand your rage, Thorin, son of Thrain. And I accept full responsibility for the damage done on your wife's behalf."
Thorin's wrath was curled around his spirit so tight that all he saw was red, and all of his words that were spoken to Thranduil were full of great disdain. Though, in the vast recesses of his heart he sought to find Coruwen. His spiritual bond to her was frayed, like the braids of a rope being slowly pulled away from the other.
"Take me to her, now." Thorin ordered. Thranduil bowed his head and left the room with him following. His side ached as he attempted to keep up with the brisk pace of the Elvenking. He was taken to a small room where he saw two elleths stitching up a large gash in Coruwen's back. Such a sight made his heart break. His wife lay on her stomach with her dress removed and blankets around her hips. The dark haired healer stood back to allow her ally to finish her work.
"We've done the best we can," Moriel stated, wiping her hands on a piece of cloth. "The cut was cut deep since it was meant for you, Elvenking. However, we have put a salve on her back that will increase the healing time of the wound at least three fold."
"Can we move her back to her chambers?" Thranduil inquired placing his hand on the pommel of his sword. Moriel glanced over her shoulder at the queen and Naruhel. She waved her hand side to side. "Even if I were to pick her up?"
"As long as you don't open the stitches back up," Moriel deadpanned. "We just finished fixing the massive amounts of blood oozing out of the cut."
"Never mind then," Thranduil replied, placing a hand on Thorin's shoulder. "Go be with her."
The three elves left the room leaving Thorin alone with Coruwen, who was unconscious. He sat at her head, stroking her hair. A piece of him crumbled away as he looked at her. She had become a part of him, and now she was dormant. He set Orcrist against the wall, leaning against the headboard.
"Why is it every time you and I become cross with the other, you end up gracing death?" Thorin whispered. His fingers twirled gold strands around, releasing them to create soft curls. As he curled certain waves, other ones would snag on his hand for attention like children's fingers. "I suppose anger makes us do idiotic things, just as love does. And I suppose I let the two mingle at a bad time." He leaned his head against the stone wall feeling the cold seep through its walls. "You said it a long time ago that my anger would be my downfall. You were right… Because my anger clouded my judgment when I was with you many years ago, and you graced death then. And here we are once more, with me looking down at you, broken. Why do you break so easily?"
In the back of his mind, he could hear her voice whispering low to him. "I am sorry, my love."
Thorin shut his eyes focusing on the voice. It was Coruwen's without a doubt, but it sounded broken and drowned out by pain. Why was his mind calling forth sections of her voice? "I am yours, as you are mine…" He knew that sentence; it was the morning after their bonding that she had whispered that to him with genuine happiness radiating from her sweet voice.
"Stop it," Thorin said aloud, opening his eyes. He rested a hand on his wife's back, avoiding her newest cut and warg scars. He rubbed her back in small circles where his hand rested, which drew a small sigh of contentment from her. The sigh made him smile slightly, but it was out of forced happiness. Sadly, he whispered, "My queen is broken."
A/N: For those of you who have not read the books, Khamul is actually an Easterling Nazgul and the second hand of the Witch-King of Angmar. In the movies, he is the Nazgul who speaks to the farmer about "Shire..." and "Baggins..." In the first movie.
Khamul's tabernacle idea came from my little cousin singing pop goes the weasel.
Since I have neglected to do so the last few chapters... Thank you to everyone who has been sending me PM's, favoriting, following, and reading! You all are awesome! You all are my inspiration when it comes to writing, so keep doing what you guys do!
Until Next time, and please review.