Rivendell
-October 17, 3018-
Odin watched the flickering sunlight through the canopy of the rich green trees with the sound of rivers reaching his sharp senses. The road to Rivendell had one of memory for Gloín and Fili, both of whom spoke of their adventure from Rivendell to Erebor in great detail. The forest that led down from the High Pass was one of old age and well kept by the elves of the land. Little finches sung their melodic songs with the wind, and the deer raced through the forest like nimble spirits. He felt a hand on his shoulder, drawing him from his dream like daze. Fili had a playful smirk on his face as he gripped Odin's shoulder tighter.
"You seem a bit... Stricken with this forest, yeah?" Fili asked, his gaze flicking up to the forest once and then back down to his cousin. Odin gave him a puzzled look and he chuckled, "That'd be the elf in you, I suppose. You haven't been around forest in a long time."
"Unless you count Mirkwood; which really is just a gruesome thing," Odin said in a low tone, feeling a shudder race down his spine at the thought of Mirkwood. "But you're right; I haven't been around a forest of such… Beauty."
"Elf," Fili teased as he started up the trail again. Odin scoffed, darting after his cousin and playfully shoving his back. Fili whirled around, pointing a scolding finger at him. "Hey now, don't do that."
"Oh please, you and Kili shove each other all the time."
"Your point is what? You may be taller than me, but I am still stronger than you. Always will be elfling." Odin scowled and Fili chuckled under his breath. Being called elfling was an obscenity used by people who didn't favor him, he knew Fili meant it out of play, but it made his heart twinge painfully. He felt Fili tug a strand of his wavy hair making his jolt forward like a horse pulled by its master. "You know I didn't mean it that way, pup. I wouldn't do that to you."
"Yeah, still gets me every now and again," Odin admitted. He heard a huff and his gaze flicked upward to see Gimli standing above them on a jutting of rock with a cross look upon his face.
"I would have thought as princes, you would be far ahead of us by now. Move along," Gimli stated gruffly leaping down from the rocks. Fili smiled and started onward again.
"To think that Dain is ahead of us is astounding," Odin whispered with a smile as he ran up the slope to see the great valley of Imladris with the roar of the waterfalls pounding on his ears. Amongst the great waterfalls lay an ivory and silver city with a few splotches of green tree tops. Under his breath, Odin whispered, "Imladris…"
"Odin!" Gloín barked back at him, drawing Odin out of his daze so he could follow the others down the hill. The paths below were heavily trodden by horses and elves, but slick with water from the waterfalls' mists nearby. He caught up to Fili's side, hearing his cousin snicker at his mishap.
"Focus, pup," Fili whispered. Odin shot him a dirty look, which only made Fili's smirk get wider. If he could have nudged Fili a bit, but couldn't because of the path. The four made their way down the rocks towards Rivendell and found a tall elf with long dark hair garbed in gold robes standing beside another that was gifted with long golden hair in robes of sky blue. The dark haired elf inclined his head to Gloín.
"Welcome, Dwarves of Erebor," The dark haired elf said with a small smile.
"It is good to be in your company again, Lord Elrond," Fili addressed. Odin looked up at the lords and Elrond met his eyes. Within his mind, he felt a small stir that made him look away at his sword's pommel. There was something strange about the lord before him. The one with golden hair had yet to speak, but there was a noble glimmer in his sky blue eyes. He watched Fili speak to Lord Elrond and then he took a step away before the lord called for a young elf that motioned for them to follow him. "Hey, Odin, wait a minute." Odin's eyes flicked back to Elrond and Fili. He heard Gloín and Gimli pass out of ear shot and his heart sunk.
Elrond's grey eyes lit up a bit when he walked up to him. "It is good to finally meet the second Crowned Prince of Erebor. Welcome to Imladris, Odin, son of Thorin." Elrond said kindly. Odin bowed to the Elf Lord, and caught the lord watching him curiously; like he was a something rather foreign. "You definitely have your father's bearing, but your mother's gentleness."
"I have heard of you before, Lord Elrond. And it is good to finally meet you as well," Odin replied with a soft smile. His mind recalled many memories of his father speaking about Elrond in slight disdain. This lord seemed perfectly harmless to him. "My mother wished for me to give you this, my lord." From his pocket, Odin withdrew a letter that had the wax seal of the royal family holding the enveloped closed. Elrond took the offered letter and tucked it away with in his robes.
"Now, there is someone that has been eagerly awaiting the two of you. Come, follow me," Elrond stated as he started off to a secluded balcony that looked eastward to the Misty Mountains. The roar of the waterfalls died down to a low growl, but above them was a loud bark of laughter belonging to Gimli and Gloín. Elrond halted before an archway, gesturing for them to enter the balcony. Gloín sat beside a small person, only appearing like a child of Men to him with snow white hair that was curly. Fili smiled and chuckled, drawing the brown eyes of the small person. Upon glancing the man over, Odin saw he was a hobbit; a Halfling from the Shire. He was dressed in white with a silver scarf around his neck.
"Bilbo!" Fili laughed as he clasped the frail shoulders of the hobbit. Bilbo laughed, patting Fili's hands.
"You haven't changed, Fili," Bilbo said with a small wink. Odin couldn't help but smile at his cousin's slight bashfulness of the statement. The brown eyes of Bilbo were filled with youthful intent despite his elderly appearance. "And who is this? Looks like a taller version of Thorin."
"This is my cousin, Odin," Fili said, and Bilbo stood, walking over to him and looking him dead in the eyes.
"You must Bilbo Baggins; I do believe my mother called you perian?" Odin teased. Bilbo's eyes lit up and he grasped Odin's elbows tightly, chuckling.
"So you are the boy I've heard about so much from your father! I saw you and saw your father, terribly sorry, my lad," Bilbo apologized. Odin shook his head. 'Oh well, you must get that a lot. Though, I do see your mother in your eyes."
"I also get that a lot too," Odin tried to keep edginess out of his voice. The notorious short temper of the line of Thror was beginning to surface, for the hobbit seemed to be reading him like a book. Gloín cleared his throat indelicately causing Bilbo's attention to snap back. Odin looked at Gloín, who gave the tiniest of nods to him. Behind him, he heard someone calling out for Bilbo, causing the person in question to call out to the other.
"Bilbo, Lord Elrond is-," A second hobbit stood in the doorway, his blue eyes wide with shock and he ran a hand through his dark curls. He quickly shook himself free of his stupor, looking at Bilbo. "Who are these people, Uncle?"
"Frodo, my lad, this is Gloín, Gimli, Fili, and Odin; three of which-," Bilbo was cut off Frodo finishing his sentence, causing Bilbo to somewhat physically puff up like a little crow.
"Two of the members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield?" Frodo asked in amazement. Gloín chuckled, bowing his head to Frodo. The blue eyes of Frodo landed on Odin. "Who are you then?"
"I am his son, Master Frodo," Odin stated firmly. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
Frodo bowed his head. "I am meeting a prince, or," He cringed a bit. "I would think that you are."
Odin eyed him, feeling a taken back by the statement. He was a prince, a part of the line of Thror, and moreover he was proud of his lineage. "I am a prince, as is my cousin."
"Then…" Frodo's sentence drifted off as he pondered something. His fingers played with the sleeve of his shirt. Odin felt his protectiveness die down when Fili's hand rested upon his shoulder. Bilbo chuckled and stood.
"He is Half-Elven, Frodo. Think about those stories I told you about the Golden Dragon of the East." Bilbo said with a bit of distance in his voice. The young hobbit blinked, and then began muttering in a low tone about that being impossible.
"Not impossible as you can clearly see," Odin chuckled. Frodo looked up, blinking like a moonstruck animal. "And yes, I heard you."
"Oh you are your mother's son in that respect." Bilbo grumbled, tapping his fingers on his walking stick. The other burst into laughter and Bilbo swatted the air, as if telling them off. "Could never have a conversation without that elf listening. Quite troublesome really."
"I am terribly sorry, bad habit," Odin apologized, and Bilbo playfully nudged him with his staff. He backed away, and Bilbo left the room with Frodo. He looked to Fili, who was trying his best to not laugh anymore. "What did I do?"
"You have your mother's inability to stop eavesdropping," Gloín pointed out. Odin scoffed, leaning up against the archway, ignoring their jests and laughter.
"Careful with the winds, they're going to get strong!" Cairn shouted back over the winds that surged in his ears. He hated the strange gales that plagued the rolling plains of Rhun. Behind him were some of his strongest flyers, yet even they were having a hard time flying with this galestorm. Beside him, flew his mate and she was tossed back by a strong wind making her squawk in surprise.
He mentally noted that he would die an early death, younger than his father, because of Thorin's ideas that flying over Rhun was a good idea. He decided to land on a cactus flower, careful of the spines that stuck up like invisible spires from the deep green bush. Rhun was similar to the far South, past Gondor, where the Haradhrim originated from; a dusty bare landscape but grew lush as they neared the Sea of Rhun.
"Whose bloody idea was this again?" A hawk snorted. The hawk had come from the Iron Hills, and the personal hawk of Dain Ironfoot. In short, he was very boisterous and Cairn hated the way he fluffed his feathers to make himself bigger. One amber eyes flicked back to the hawk, who was removing chunks of down from his chest. "Last time I checked, which was not too long ago, the Easterlings are perfectly happy on their little boats far in the sea."
"If you desire to complain, my lord, then by all means go back to Dain and tell him nothing is coming. But, should the Easterlings strike, then it will your tail feathers being used for arrows." Cairn snapped, watching the swirling heat of Rhun cloud his vision. He watched his son and daughter fly overhead before splitting in different directions. A white crested raven landed beside him.
"Nothing to the North North-east, my lord," The white one proclaimed, "Shall I start to the sea?"
"No, not yet," Cairn replied. "I want that bit to myself."
"Right," The raven flew off, and Cairn heaved a heavy sigh. He was beginning to become testy. His typical temperament had been removed with the constant complaining of Dain's Hawk. He had a few more ravens report in with nothing more than the occasional coyote or gold eagle spotted. However, upon his son's return he noticed a great shift in the air.
"Hugin, what is wrong?" Cairn asked, rising into the sky. His son hovered in the air, looking to the South. The green eyes of Hugin were greatly concerned. "You saw something?"
"Aye, a great marching of Easterlings; heading towards Mordor. However, some have remained behind in a settlement far to the East nearest Rhun. They are preparing for something, father."
Cairn hissed out a breath, finding it unbelievable. He needed to return to Erebor, now. He looked to his daughter, and gave her a loud squawk to which she returned. Cairn bumped his son's shoulder, gesturing back to Erebor. Hugin kept up with his father's swift flight back, and hoped that someone would be present for them to find.
Coruwen nicked her finger on a needle as she worked on a needlepoint of the Arkenstone. Her fingers weren't working as well as she would have liked; her illness was taking its toll on her. She felt as if she was aging at a rapid rate on some days, today was sadly one of those days. She tightened her hand into a fist, flexing it once or twice test her dexterity.
"Tyr, give it back!" Balder growled. Coruwen glanced up to see Balder pinning his twin to the floor with Tyr wriggling around like a bug crushed beneath someone's thumb. Balder held his brother's face up to look at him, and within the grey eyes of the younger twin was a deep anger, deadly similar to that of Dwalin. Most considered Tyr the living embodiment of his father, but Coruwen saw Dwalin more in Balder since Tyr was quiet and less likely to voice his opinion.
"Bite me," Tyr snapped.
Coruwen heard Frigga sigh, annoyed at the actions of the two. She glanced up at the handmaiden, seeing annoyance written upon her face and her attention drawn away from her book. Short temper was not common for Frigga, but Tyr, Balder, and Odin drew it from the depths of her kind soul. The queen reached forward, patting Frigga's shoulder, making her draw back a bit.
"Ice-brains, I suggest you fight later," Frigga scolded, returning her gaze to her book. Balder punched Tyr's shoulder once, and rolled off of his brother. When Tyr stood, he handed back a jeweled dagger that Balder swiped away from his brother's grip.
"Sorry, Frigga," Tyr said sheepishly.
Coruwen heard an arrow whistle and clatter to the floor in the far corner. She traced the arrow's flight back to the bow of her younger nephew, who was looking at her as if expecting her to become angry. She chuckled, shaking her head, "Careful, my wolf."
"Sol pushed me," Kili stated darting to grab his arrow. Indeed, Sol was behind him; dressed in the garb of the second-in-command of the Guard with Kili being the Captain. She watched him sit at her feet, playing with the tip of a light wood carved arrow with an elegantly made arrowhead. It was one of her arrows that he had found many, many years ago when she used to practice often in the hopes of repairing her arm. She noticed he never used it.
"Kili, what's that?" Kili yelped, dropping the arrow. He frantically picked it up, placing it back into his quiver. One gold eye glanced back at her past a slightly mussed braid. It was as if he was ashamed of that arrow. Setting aside her needlepoint, she placed her hands on his shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. "That is one of mine, why not use it?"
"Because it's one of your arrows… It's a bit too pretty to waste on a target," Kili muttered. A smile creased her face as she stroked a loose section of his hair. "I want to keep it, if that is all right with you."
"I see no wrong in it," Coruwen replied removing her hands from him to continue her stitching. Dark brown, gold, and now white mingled with silver were woven into this small needlepoint. She took one hand, allowing her eyes to wander across the piece. A small dark brown wolf head with gold eyes stared out into the world with a necklace of the Arkenstone around its neck, glittering brightly like a small star. It was for her little wolf, which guarded the city like an alpha wolf protects its pack. She had made a lion with a wreath of maple leaves for Kili, a black dragon for Thorin with a much smaller gold dragon sitting at its feet, and blue eyed black eagle for Dís. In truth, she was nearly finished with Kili's needlepoint, and this was the one she was having the most trouble with.
"My queen!" A voice called. Coruwen glanced up to see Cairn and Hugin flying into the throne room. She handed her work to Frigga and stood, allowing Cairn onto her shoulder. The amber eyes of the Raven Lord were deeply panicked, making her question what was wrong. She made a gesture for him to speak, as he caught his breath. "Rhun, the East, something is wrong." He took a gulp of air. "Where is the king?"
"With Dwalin, going over some plans that the Elvenking and Brand worked out the other day," Kili answered. Coruwen gestured for Kili to follow her and they ran off to the war room to find Dwalin and Thorin. Upon opening the door, both men looked up at Kili and Coruwen, greatly confused. Cairn flew from Coruwen's shoulder onto the table, ruffling his wings in an attempt to smooth them back down.
"What is the matter?" Dwalin asked tapping Cairn a bit. The raven hopped over onto the edge of the table and began to draw on the great map of Middle-Earth near the sea of Rhun with one claw. Coruwen cringed when the lord drew a line downward to Mordor. "Cairn, words would be a good idea."
Coruwen felt Thorin's hand rest upon her low back making her stiffen. His eyes were narrowed at the map, analyzing the drawings Cairn had placed around Rhun. After a short huff, Cairn spoke, "Scouts have begun sighting numerous tribes of Easterling forces marching south. They flock as if someone has called them. They take no horses, they only march which I find strange. From what I have learned of the East, they are a race that rides faster than the winds that cross the sea."
"Sauron has no need for horses, all he needs is their strength," Thorin stated. "Why use a breed of animal that is useless to him and his warriors?"
"Aye, that is a relevant statement, my king. However, there is one problem, I have yet to mention," Cairn returned and Dwalin sighed. Coruwen saw Cairn hop over to a large circle he had drawn at the south-eastern edge of the Sea of Rhun. "There is a force, small and weak, at the edge of the sea that has been growing day by day. The forces that march to Mordor leave their horses behind here. I do not see them as a threat quite yet, but surely over time they might-,"
"Attack again," Dwalin finished. Cairn nodded gravely, and the queen's heart sank. The Easterling's were under the control of Khamûl and Sauron, and they not only wanted to find the Ring, but destroy the world in a great purge. If that meant destroying the cities of Men along with the last few settlements of dwarves and elves, then nothing was stopping them. She reached back, grabbing Thorin's hand.
"You seemed bothered, my lady," Cairn pointed out as he flew up into the air allowing Dwalin to fix the scratches the raven had made.
"The last time the Easterlings attacked they did not have Khamûl with them. That Nazgûl knows these lands well, and will use that to his advantage. The cities of Men that sit below us can easily be swayed, and if the Lake-men rise against us. What will we do? We may be strong enough to handle one force, but what will we do if there are three, maybe four against us?"
"You are the Dragon of the East, my queen. Freya could-," Cairn winced as Coruwen shot him a dark glare.
"Freya's power is waning, as is the magic that binds her to the earthly plain. If we have to use her, then it must be because of dire consequence." She said firmly. "I will not risk the life of my dragon."
"I believe Cairn is asking what if it comes to that," Thorin stated, trying to calm her. "What would happen should we have to use Freya?"
Coruwen blinked in bewilderment, trying to piece together words. "Then we would have to ask for her assistance. She might have to tumble with Khamûl, should she rise to fight."
"Well, we should hope that will not be the case then," Cairn replied, flying out of the room through a small hole that Coruwen was surprised he was able to fit through. She dearly hoped she would not have to call on Freya ever again unless the dragoness came to her. The pendant the held Freya's scale was beginning to turn white, and the sunstones were turning clear. The potent magic that held Freya to earthly world was fading because of age and mental state. Freya was lonely; she had no one to keep her company aside from woodland creatures that greatly feared her.
"Are you all right?" Thorin's voice drew her back to the room. Dwalin had left and Kili was standing outside the door talking with one of his men. She nodded to Thorin, and he kissed the back of her hand making her smile. "You have been rather upset as of late."
"Elrond's letter still haunts me. To think that the One Ring has been found and is in the hands of a hobbit," The statement warranted a confused glance from her husband and she sighed. "Bilbo's nephew has it; I saw it in a vision. I was truly hoping it was wrong until I spoke with my father upon the matter. Lady Galadriel has sensed the Ring with the boy."
"You do not believe he will take it, do you?"
"I am not sure, but should he take it; be ready for someone to not return home from Imladris. The road to Mordor is long, and surely unable to taken on by a single hobbit."
"I know for a fact that if Bilbo didn't have the company he would have gotten himself into more trouble than he could have ever imagined." Coruwen gave him a small look of knowing, and he brushed it off. "Save a few times where he came and found us…"
"Mirkwood and Smaug are perfect examples, dearest. Had it not been for Calenfaire and Bilbo, the company would have surely been put to the headmen's block for sure."
Coruwen heard Kili from the doorway, and she turned her gaze backward to him. He was leaning against the frame, arms crossed with a playful smirk on his face. She gave him a quizzical look to which he shook his head. She was sure that he had heard them. "This came for the two of you, by the way." Kili said handing her a letter pressed with a blue wax seal. She opened it to reveal her son's penmanship. When she had finished reading it, she passed it to Thorin. "It's from Odin, isn't it?"
"Aye, he's coming home in a few weeks, but Gimli and Gloín are not following him," Thorin replied folding the letter back up. Kili blinked, slightly confused. "Odin did not divulge why the two are not returning." The king glanced up at his wife, seeing her dig her nails into her palms. "You were right about Bilbo's nephew."
"What?" Kili asked.
Coruwen turned her gaze away when Thorin spoke again. "He plans on taking the One Ring to Mordor."
Coruwen's airways constricted at the mere thought of Mordor. With the way the shadow was always swirling and brooding in the far south made her uneasy and often her mind would be clouded by its foul presence. Now, the Easterlings were beginning to mass in the east with some heading south, and the constant attacks happening in Thranduil's home. Sauron wanted to cripple the Northeast to allow Khamûl to crush the cities beneath his heel. Years of peace were going to be disrupted…
-December 25, 3018-
Odin watched Balder throw knives at a target for what felt like hours. With winter came a bitter cold, a rather strange welcome home from being away from a long while. The prince ran a finger along the edge of his sword feeling the steel's frigid bite. He heard the sheathing a knife and he glanced up at Balder. His friend huffed flexing his hands once. Balder had a rather cross expression on his face when he twirled a steel dagger in his hand.
"What's on your mind, Balder?" Odin asked tucking strands of his dark hair behind his ear. Ever so slightly the ears of the prince were pointed, greatly similar to that of a hobbit. He shifted on the rock allowing Balder to sit beside him. His friend was one of the few that had mastered being quite amongst his race and thus became an assassin.
"It's the strange quiet that has fallen over the city. We've lived here our whole lives and never has it been this… Mute," Balder replied flipping up his hood. The black of the cloak was turning grey from the snow that danced in the wind. Odin shrunk back into his cloak further, trying to remember the last time Erebor had been loud with happiness. "I mean, Tyr is even bothered by it. And for Rock-Brains to notice something, then it's got to be dire."
Odin mentally chuckled, hearing the terrible nicknames Tyr and Balder called each other. "My mother and father say that the Easterlings have begun to mass near their little pond." Odin stated, standing to roll his wrist that held his sword. He greatly enjoyed feeling of his sword free itself every once in a while. Balder leaned back on his elbows, dusting himself free of snowflakes.
"Sounds like we're gonna be fighting soon, my friend," Balder laughed. Odin heard a whistle and instinctively raised his blade up to block a knife that was tossed his way. Balder's hand had made no motion of letting a blade loose, but surely enough one of his iron daggers clattered to his feet.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Odin asked indignantly, picking up his blade. "Honestly, I do not understand you."
"Feeling's mutual," Balder replied standing. "But I have one question for you…"
"And I have an answer, my friend."
Balder snorted at the remark, rolling his eyes. "Who would you rather fight, me or Tyr?" Odin's blue eyes narrowed and he took a wide step towards Balder, the blade of a sword meeting the blade of a long knife. His friend was a walking knife armory sometimes, from small throwing knives to long knives that could be wielded with no effort. "I'm taking that as me."
Odin brought up his hand and rested it on the tip of the sword and pushed, sending Balder skidding back a few feet. As Balder darted towards him with a unmatched speed, he heard a arrow become loosed from a bow and he jumped back with Balder skidding to a halt. Fili and Kili stood on the top of the ramp with Kili's fingers resting on the taut bowstring. Fili patted his brother's shoulder and he stood from his kneel, shouldering his bow.
"What's wrong?" Odin asked sheathing his sword.
Fili took a deep breath, a sign of concern. "Khamûl has been spotted on our borders, you two need to get inside," He stated. Odin narrowed his eyes at his older cousin. "Odin, not right now."
"No, I am old enough to fight. Let me fight," Odin said firmly. The prince's blood was boiling as Fili gave him a scolding look. For years, he had been told to stay inside because of his age, but he would no longer sit by idly while his family fought to protect this city. It was his city as much as it was his family's. Kili blinked in shock, looking between Odin and Fili.
"Odin!" A sonorous voice yelled up. The prince stiffened at the voice of his father, who was standing at the base of the ramp with his mother. He slinked down the hill, stopping before his parents, greatly ashamed of his words. He mentally chastised himself for being ungodly stubborn. As he looked at his father, he saw his dark blue eyes stern and swirling like the heavens before they released a great storm. His father's voice dropped low, "I know you desire to fight, but not against this."
"For years I have been trapped in here, and for once I want to help you. Why do you keep me locked away like something fragile?" Odin asked, he was done with staying hidden away. His cousins fought, his parents fought, but not him… "Tell me why I can't."
"It is a Nazgûl, it hurt your mother and has attempted to kill many others; most of those deaths succeeding." Thorin replied, trying to keep his voice even. "It is not your time, my son."
Odin sighed shortly, "Fine, I'll go." He returned back inside, and found Frigga sitting before the steps of his mother's throne. He looked upon her, catching the stress in her pale face and green eyes with her dark gold hair falling in long curls down her back. Seeing her worried made him approach her wearily, and sit beside her. One emerald eye looked up at him, and she leaned into him a bit. "What is the matter?"
"The Nazgûl approaching Erebor has me worried," Frigga said, defensively. "At least you're here, Odin."
"I got sent away, again," Odin growled. Frigga smiled and he gave her a look of confusion. "Why are you smiling?"
"Nothing," Frigga laughed as she hugged him making him tense up. He had been hugged by Frigga as a child, but that was quite a long time ago. "You just make me laugh."
"I was not trying to be funny," Odin grumbled. "I grow sick of sitting in the shadows, Frigga." She pulled away, and sighed. "You would not understand…"
"No, I do. It's hard being in the shadow of your cousins and your parents. I know it was hard for me to be in the shadow of Lady Merida. Your father and mother love you greatly and they don't want you to become hurt by something as silly as a Nazgûl."
"But-," Frigga placed a finger on his lips, hushing him. Her emerald eyes were sincere, almost fond. His heart shuddered at the look she was giving him. He was silently cursing that old childish crush he had on her and trying to force it down.
"Your father and mother don't want you to get hurt, ice brain." Frigga scolded as she leaned on his shoulder. "Now, be a good pillow and don't move."
"What if Balder or Tyr come in here?"
"Then you can move."
"Perhaps we should have let him fight, Thorin," Coruwen said gently, watching the black mass of Khamûl dart across the Desolation of Smaug. Her husband's grip tightened around Orcrist as she spoke and she sighed. "He will not be little forever, in fact he is able to make his own decisions."
"He needs to know that not everyone must fight," Thorin replied shortly. He turned to look at her, and his eyes were still angered. "His stubbornness is his greatest weakness."
Coruwen stared at him in disbelief; where in the world did he think that Odin gained most of his stubbornness from? Granted, she was firm in her ways, but Thorin was far worse. "Just as it is yours," She said her voice becoming edgy. He glared at her and looked the other way. "Thorin Oakenshield, that boy is your son. He is just as damned stubborn as you are. He has the same amount of fight that you have, and the same amount of pride. You are forcing him away by telling him to not fight."
"Get to the point."
Coruwen sighed. "I told you once that you could not fight, yet you did it anyway. What you are doing is what I tried to do to you once. And it backfired on me, greatly."
"I'll think about letting him fight."
Coruwen leaned on the Dragon Blade, feeling her stomach twist into worry caused knots. She still to this day never understood Thorin's stubbornness, and where it came from. He loved Odin so much that he wanted to keep his son protected from everything, even war. He tried to protect her once, and Thranduil took her away from him causing a great divide to occur. One thing she had learned about her husband; never separate him from his loved ones or the wrath of a mighty storm will smite you. She watched as Khamûl's fell beast rose from the eastern forest with a great roar.
The creature was silver from nose to long, flicking tail and possessed a wedge-shaped head with beady black eyes. It sprung into the air, long like a serpent with wings full of holes and great spines on its back. Upon its back sat Khamûl with his long black cloak flowing around him like cloud of sheer midnight and his crown of crude steel upon his head and his blade at his side. The fell beast rolled its shoulders and it flew overhead, stopping over Erebor with its tail curling around the peak. The mist divided as Khamûl let out a scream making most everyone cringe. The Nazgûl lord flew off into the East, giving everyone a bit of reprieve.
"Damn that thing!" Fili cursed as he came down the hill. Coruwen saw the concern and agitation in her nephew's features. His eyes were stern, and began to watch the skies. "What does he want?"
"He wants to scare us," Kili stated, drawing Fili's gaze. "He wants Erebor out of the picture to give him power of Dale."
"So you have been listening to me ramble, eh Kili?" Coruwen laughed. Kili flashed a smile at her and reached for Fili, gripping his brother's shoulder. "Nothing we can do right now, because if there was. I would have done it."
"I hate that Nazgûl," Fili grumbled, letting out a string of curses that made Thorin glance over his shoulder at his eldest nephew. Thorin cleared his throat and Fili halted mid-curse, tensing up.
"Watch your tongue, Fili," Thorin scolded, turning back to watching the east. "I do not like the appearance of Khamûl either, but Kili said it best; there is nothing we can do."
Coruwen placed her hand over Thorin's to draw his gaze up to her. "Send out ravens and send word to Dain; Khamûl is moving. We need to see what is going on." She ordered. Kili and Fili did as she said running up to Cairn with the orders. "I am going to call Freya. We need her more than ever."
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