Thorin grimaced as he took in the sight of Heathridge. It was a dreary old town, but it paid a reasonable enough price for his men. The work wasn't great that great, but it was consistent and that was all that mattered. That didn't mean Thorin was looking forward to spending time in the place though. He found the people idle; too lazy to work their own mines. As for his men, he had constant reports from Dwalin and none of them sounded good. Which was exactly why he was here; to renegotiate the terms of the contract to make sure that his men were actually doing the job they were being paid to do. Personally, he had no qualms with how they spent their private time, as long as they didn't bring his name into disrespect. The only problem was, according to Dwalin, that was exactly what they were doing.
He sighed, pinching the top of his nose, the remnants of a headache only just starting to disperse. Renegotiating the contract was going to be hard work, and he wasn't particularly looking forward to it. And then there was also the small matter of the quest he was planning, but he could discuss that with Dwalin at a later date. Of course, he also had to evade his nephews' constant questioning, but he was hoping to distract Fili and Kili with something or other.
Thorin rode through the town; the disdain he held for the place clear in his eyes. The place was grim to say the least. The buildings were dilapidated, with weeds climbing high on rotten walls. "I'd forgotten how dismal this place was," his companion and steward, Alviss, commented from where he rode next to him. Thorin hummed in agreement, eyes narrowing as he cast a critical glance at the town. They quickly left the collection of ramshackle buildings, heading towards the borders of the town, towards the ridge where the mines were situated.
Thorin wanted to see for himself the state of the place. Of course he trusted Dwalin's word, but he wanted to see how bad things actually were. There was no denying that Thorin had been distracted recently, unable to focus on the smaller dwarf dwellings such as Heathridge. But he wanted to get things sorted out properly before he was distracted even more with thoughts of the quest.
As they rode towards mines, Thorin was forced to slow his pony, before coming to a stop as they neared the clearing designated as the dwarf camp. Crowded round the entrance of a slim opening in the trees was a throng of people; all desperately trying to peer into the small space. It didn't escape Thorin's notice that despite being so close to the dwarf settlement, there were no dwarves present. Glancing towards Alviss, Thorin told him, "Carry on towards Dwalin's place. I'll follow behind." Alviss nodded, not too happy about leaving the exiled King behind, but he knew Thorin too well to argue. Instead, he gave his animal a slight kick to get it to move again.
Watching him disappear, Thorin frowned, climbing off of his pony as he tried to figure out what was going on. The hushed whispers gave nothing away, but judging by the wailing coming from one or two of the gentlewomen within the crowd, Thorin knew it was nothing good.
Pushing his way through the crowd, muttering a quick apology as he past a women in a blue cloak, her hood pulled up to protect her face from the constant drizzle that seemed to encase the town. She didn't seem to hear his apology though; her stare was focussed on the sight in front of her. Following her gave, Thorin felt the bile start to rise in his throat, his face paling as he realised what was going on. Despite the fact that he had seen bloodshed numerous times - despite the fact that he had seen and caused so many deaths himself - he still felt sick at the sight in front of him.
It was a girl. Barely passed the age of twenty, Thorin hazard a guess. She was naked. She had been mutilated. Raped. She was covered in cuts and bruises. And she was dead. Her throat had been sliced open; blood drained in a pool next to her pale form. Her forehead looked like it had taken a heavy blow; veins of blood splintered across porcelain skin. The only colour left on her was the vibrant blues that encased her throat, her wrists. And her red hair.
One momentary glace was enough for him. Shaking his head, Thorin moved back towards his pony. There was nothing he could do. And she was a human girl; she wasn't his responsibility. It was a sorry sight, but there was nothing he could do to help the dead girl. Instead, he climbed back on top of his animal and carried on with his journey.
Dwalin lived on the outskirts of the town; his forge situated halfway between the town centre and the mine. The ride didn't take too long though, despite the worsening weather, and soon Thorin found himself climbing down off his pony once again, handing the reins to Alviss who stood outside waiting for him, Dwalin by his side.
"Took your time," Dwalin grumbled, before grasping Thorin's forearm. Thorin copied the action, giving his friend a brief smile.
"Dwalin," he greeted, glancing around the front of the compound that was made up of Dwalin's forge, his house, and a couple of outbuildings. He noted that although the wind was howling, the compound itself was awfully quiet, his eyes querying as he looked back at Dwalin. "Where are the lads?" It was obvious neither of his nephews were around at the moment; where Fili and Kili were concerned, noise and disruption usually followed like a shadow.
Dwalin shrugged, his broad shoulders heaving. "Don't know. As long as they keep out of trouble and out from under my feet, I don't care," he admitted. He might not particularly like the town, or the inhabitants - both men and dwarves - but he knew the two lads were safe. No trouble would find them around here, unless they were the cause of it.
"I hope they're not causing too much trouble for you," Thorin said as he followed Dwalin quickly into his small kitchen escaping the downpour that was soddening the ground, Alviss following behind him dutifully, awaiting his next order.
Dwalin shook his head and gestured for Thorin to take a seat after he had passed him his drenched cloack. "Nothing I can't handle," he said, hanging up the garment, before turning his attention to getting his king a drink and something to eat.
Alviss stood by the doorway. "What was all that commotion about?" he asked Thorin, gesturing outside.
Thorin sighed heavily. "A girl. Dead," was all he answered, trying to shake the image of her bloodied form, muttering a quick thanks to Dwalin who passed him a mug of ale.
Dwalin winced; he wasn't fond of the people of Heathridge, but no one deserved to die. "I see they found her then," was all he said, shaking his head. Thorin raised an eyebrow, forcing him to explain further. "Been missing for three days now. Red head from one of the inns. Not surprised really. Knew nothing good would have happened to her."
"Aye, that's her alright," Thorin stated, gripping the handle of his mug tightly. The house shuddered as a gust of wind rattled the windows of door, silencing the three dwarves.
The silence was only broken when the door burst open, revealing a saturated pair of dwarves. "Uncle!" Kili shouted with glee, quickly throwing his fishing equipment to the floor with a loud clutter, dragging Thorin up for an embrace. Fili just rolled his eyes and placed his own belongings away neatly, before picking up Kili's discarded rod.
"Kili. Fili," Thorin greeted fondly, nodding towards his eldest nephew, who seemed to be more aware of the fact that he was soaking wet. Kili either hadn't noticed, or didn't care, and proceeded to soak the front of Thorin's tunic.
Once the formalities were out of the way, Thorin, his nephews and Dwalin were all sat around the wooden table, a mug of ale in each of their hands. Alviss had slipped away to sort out their belongings. Dwalin shared a tense look with Thorin, a look that didn't go unnoticed by Fili.
"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning. "Is Ma okay?"
Thorin shook his head, trying to hide a small smile. Trust his nephew to think about the safety of his family first. Out of his nephews, Fili was most definitely the most sensible one. It wasn't that Kili didn't care. He did. Too much, sometimes. But his younger nephew had the habit of rushing into situations without thinking, whilst Fili tended to take a step back and observe. "No, your mother is fine. Though if she hears you refer to her a 'Ma', I doubt she'd be too impressed."
"They found the girl," Dwalin explained, taking a large gulp of his drink.
"They found Eve? Is she okay?" Kili asked, not catching on as quickly as his brother, who know wore a look of horror on his face.
"No Kili. She's not. It looks like she was killed," Thorin explained, watching the look of hope disperse from his nephew's face. Kili blinked furiously, sullenly glaring at the table.
Fili sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes, as if suddenly overcome with tiredness. He noted that his uncle used the word 'killed', not 'dead'. And he knew exactly where and who the blame was going to be pointed at. "Where did they find her?" he asked.
"By the dwarf camp," Thorin replied, watching his nephew give Dwalin a quick glance. "Why?"
Since Eve had disappeared three days ago, the tension in the town between the men and dwarves had grown. Malicious rumours had started to spread as fragile cracks started to form. "They think it was a dwarf," Fili said, his voice serious as he stared blandly at his uncle. "The Master was round here the other day, demanding Dwalin round up all the dwarves to question them."
"Aye, and I told him to shove off with his acquisitions," Dwalin grumbled, slamming his mug down on the table a little too loudly, causing Kili to flinch.
"And why would they think a dwarf is responsible?" Thorin asked, his voice forced to be steady as the headache that he had only just gotten rid off threatening to return.
"The lass was friendly with the dwarves," Fili explained, shrugging his shoulders slightly, before taking a sip of his ale. He didn't particularly want the drink, but he needed to do something; he hated the feeling of uselessness. At the back of his mind, he knew there was nothing he could do - not when the girl was already dead - but he still wanted to do something. But the weather was howling outside, forcing the four dwarves to be shut up in Dwalin's cramped kitchen.
"The lass was friendly with everyone, from what I've heard," Dwalin said roughly.
Kili looked up at that, blinking furiously at Dwalin. "Just because she was friendly doesn't mean she deserved to die," he said, voice full of emotion.
"No one is saying that, Ki," Fili said, placing his hand on top of Kili's and giving it a quick squeeze, hoping to calm his brother down. "It's a horrible thing, Kili, but there's nothing we could have done."
Kili stared at his brother, nodding his head slightly; hearing the words but not really believing them. "I know, but..." Kili trailed off. "But we were there the night she disappeared and I just keep thinking did we miss anything? Did she look scared? Could we have saved her?"
"I thought I told you to stay out of The Stock and Bones?" Dwalin said, looking unimpressed by the brothers antics. Thorin raised an eyebrow at this; obviously his two nephews were causing more trouble than Dwalin had let on earlier. He also wondered why Dwalin seemed s against the boys drinking there, but didn't say anything. Instead, he sat quietly, listening to the conversation.
Fili sighed. "It was one drink," he held his hands up, trying to placate Dwalin, but neither of the older dwarves believed his words. Thorin knew his nephews all too well. He knew that they didn't just go out for one drink. "And there was nothing we missed, Kili. There was nothing we could have done," he said, turning his attention back to his brother. "Did she seem scared to you?"
Kili was silent for a moment, listening to the heavy drops of rain that where continuously falling outside, before finally saying, "No."
"Did you see anything at all?" Thorin asked, finally speaking up.
Kili shook his head and stayed quiet. Fili answered for both of them. "No. I mean, she was busy working most of the evening."
"She did dance with Frar," Kili remembered, but that didn't mean anything. One dance didn't equate to him killing her.
Dwalin snorted. "I should have known that bastard would have been involved somehow," he said. Thorin rolled his eyes, remembering all too well about the dispute between Dwalin and Frar. Things were going to be difficult, Thorin realised. He could forget about renegotiating the contract; the Master wasn't going to pay his men more, not when suspicion followed them around. Despite the fact that Thorin really did not want to get involved, he knew he'd have to. Things would only go from bad to worse if he did nothing. He had to seem like he was cooperating with the Master and his men. He disliked the people of Heathridge, but he knew he had to be seen to be doing something to appease them, otherwise the mining contract wouldn't be renewed.
Sighing heavily, and trying his hardest to ignore the shooting pain in his skull, he called out to Alviss. "Go to the dwarf camp and fetch me Frar. Tell him Dwalin needs a word," he told the other dwarf once he had appeared at the doorway. Alviss nodded, grimly stealing a look outside. It was still raining, but the determined and slightly annoyed look on Thorin's face told him to go straight away. Alviss nodded and left.
"What are you going to do?" Dwalin asked.
"I'm going to find out what happened before this whole thing gets blown out of proportion," Thorin replied, not sounding too pleased with it.
Author's Note: Despite the fact that I have the entire plot for this story figured out, I've come to the realisation that I do not like the title I've given it. And yet, I can't think of anything else to replace it with. I might change it. I might not...I'm not too sure what to do about it, to be honest. Anyway, I don't really have anything of any use to say in this Author's Note, so I'm just going to shut up now before I end up writing a rambling paragraph of nothingness.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of it's characters.