Chapter Three
They awoke slightly later than usual the following day and in her rush to get started, Rori had been planing to skip shaving today. She was getting better at it but she didn't really enjoy it. They had run into a few other travellers on their way to the mountains but since entering the range, only last nights faerie.
She went to help Thorin saddle and load the ponies.
"I'll do this, you go and shave," he said briskly.
Rori turned away as she felt tears stinging her eyes. She had agreed to shave in order to come on this journey, and she intended to keep her word but it was actually getting harder with time rather than easier. Sure, she cut herself with much less frequency but removing what little beard she had twice a day was starting to get her down.
She grabbed up her bag with the razor and mirror in and headed around an outcropping of rock. This was easier if she did it alone. When she had finished she dried her eyes, feeling angry at herself for getting emotional at all, and took a few deep breaths before returning to her King.
Thorin realised that she had been upset and felt bad for making her shave for a moment. The reasoning was sound, for without a beard and in hobbit clothes, she did not look like a dwarf but in all honesty, he had not realised until now just how hard it must be for her. He had seen the strength she had shown in the face of humiliation after her father had made her shave and he had wrongly assumed that she was always that strong. He knew that he'd been fooling himself because he didn't want to think of her pain.
He didn't say anything but got on his pony and they headed off, deeper into the mountains.
They stopped to camp again that evening and they could tell that summer was quickly losing ground to Autumn, and Rori shivered as the setting sun left a chill in the air. Although he knew that he shouldn't use what little wood they had brought with them, Thorin nevertheless started making a fire.
Rori didn't question him but simply picked up her shaving bag again.
"Rori," he called, stopping her before she could leave the camp. She turned back. "I... I wondered if... well, would you mind if I...?" He held his hand out for the bag she held.
Although he had phrased it as a question, Rori felt unable to deny him anything since he was her king so she handed the bag over, wondering what he wanted with it. He merely set it aside for a moment while he continued building the fire. Rori waited patiently for him to finish.
When he was done, he picked up the bag and began searching through their belongings until he found his own wash bag, a flask and a bowl; he then sat down with his back against a rock and gestured for her to join him. She suddenly realised that he didn't want to see the bag, rather he wanted to shave her. Had she disappointed him in some way? Was this her punishment? For surely the only thing worse than removing ones beard, was having someone else remove it.
Still, he was her king and she would do as he asked. She sat down beside him and he guided her down until her head was resting in his lap. She closed her eyes and waited.
Thorin took a bar of soap from his own wash bag, poured some water into the bowl and lathered up the bar. Slowly he rubbed the foam into her lower face, marvelling at the odd feel of her stubble. When he was satisfied that he had covered her lower face, he opened the razor and set about removing her beard. Each section of skin that he revealed was porcelain smooth and beautiful.
The chin area was difficult but he took his time, savouring his task. As he tilted her head further back to do her neck and chin, he saw her bite down on her lower lip and suddenly found himself having some very impure thoughts. It didn't help that her head was resting in his lap. He saw her lip turn white with pressure as he ran the razor up from her neck. She relaxed as soon as he was done and the faith she had placed in him, allowing him access to her neck with a cut throat razor, was most heartening to him.
When he was nearly finished, he noticed a tear leak from the corner of her eye and run onto his trousers, causing him to frown. He finished her cheek, doing his best not to harm her, then patted her face dry with the shirt that had become a rag.
"Why are you crying?" he asked when he had finished.
Realising that he had finished, Rori sat up so that her back was to him.
"I have displeased you," she said.
"What would make you say that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Why else would you remove my beard yourself if not to punish me?" she asked.
Thorin reached forward and put his hands on her shoulders.
"I... like you without the beard," he admitted. "Your skin is so soft, your face so perfect... I didn't realise it was causing you so much pain until this morning. I offered to do it for you this evening because I enjoyed you grooming my beard last night... I thought this was a way I could return the gesture, I did not mean to hurt you."
"I look gruesome without the beard," she said, ignoring the second half of his statement.
Thorin turned her to face him, gripping her shoulder tightly to hold her in place.
"There is nothing gruesome about you, Rori, don't ever say that!" he almost shouted, displeased to hear such language from her. Couldn't she see that she wasn't different, she was special?
Rori watched as his heated gaze left her eyes and travelled to her lower face. His grip on her shoulders slackened as his expression softened.
"I think you're beautiful," he confessed, his hands finding their way to her face as his thumbs began to caress her cheeks. "I was fascinated by your lack of beard in the beginning but as it began to grow back, I found myself hating the wretched thing for hiding any part of your perfection from me. It was wrong of me to ask you to keep shaving for this trip, I should have found another way for you to accompany me but in all honesty, I cannot say that I am sorry."
Rori was too stunned by his words to form a coherent response.
"But..."
"But what?" he asked kindly.
"I'm nobody," she said. "I have neither fame nor fortune, nor even respect."
"You have my respect," he told her. "And I have fame and fortune enough for the us both."
"You're too-" she was about to say that he was too old to take a wife but she realised that of course he probably wasn't thinking of her as a potential mate, just as some fun. No dwarf got to nearly 200 years old and then decided to take a wife. If she was lucky she might become his companion, his concubine, but he could never consider someone like her as queen material.
"Too what?" he asked.
"Too kind," she lied. "I am as boring and dull as it is possible for a dwarf to be. I do not enjoy fighting or drinking very much, I have little talent for metal forging and I favour sedate hobbies. I don't even much like gold, it is impractical and far too soft a metal to be truly useful, in my opinion."
"You are right," Thorin chuckled. "Gold is only useful for looking pretty and mounting jewels in, but no jewel or precious metal comes close to your beauty."
"Stop that," she said, pushing his hands off her face and standing up.
"What's wrong?" he asked, looking up at her, perplexed as she walked to the edge of the outcrop of rock on which they were camped and stared out over the mountain range.
"Don't make fun of me like that," she said in a small voice. "I am your subject and if you ask me to share a bed with you, I will do so, only please stop making fun of me like this."
"What?" he asked, getting to his feet but not approaching her.
"Your words are dangerous," she said. "I could start to believe them and when reality comes crashing back in, I will be devastated; even more so that I was when my father made me remove my beard. I know that I am considered strange and am frequently the subject of gossip, I am just grateful that they usually do so outside of my hearing. I could not bare to think I was normal and accepted, only to feel the sting of rejection once more when we return home. I come from a warrior race and I believe that in many ways I am strong but still, there is only so much that I can stand."
At that moment, Thorin realised that she had been more throughly undermined by her father than he had thought. Her bookish nature was unusual among dwarves, but not so much so that she was a subject of ridicule. Indeed he had asked around about her while she had been busy working on the Orcrist, and every dwarf he had spoken to had a good or kind word to say about her.
Fip Jewlin spoke of the elvish sword making techniques that she had described for him, which had enabled him to improve his methods and make much stronger swords. Ela Kindlund said how Rori was always ready to help out any dwarf who was unwell, having a myriad of herbal remedies, medicines and poultice recipes at her fingertips. Dorma Wonlight had described how Rori had taken all four of her children into her home for weeks when Dorma and her husband come down with Dawrven Fever and had been unable to look after four young, boisterous boys. Many of the male dwarves also mentioned what a bonnie dwarf she was, now that she had reached full maturity.
She was not only well liked but also respected, and she wasn't aware of any of it.
"You are beautiful and I want you more than I can say," he said softly. "But I will not lie with you until you believe that also."
He turned away to where the horses were standing and began to go through the bags which were lying beside to them. He sorted out their feed bags then began looking for their dinner. Since it had been a long day with very little sleep and some rather raw feelings exposed, he chose to get some of the cured meat out and a bottle of ale for them to share as a treat.
"You must be hungry," he said, sitting beside the fire and beginning to warm the ham that he had sliced off.
Rori came and joined him. She silently took the mug of ale he handed her, and later the plate of ham and biscuits.
"Tell me a story?" he asked as he began eating.
"Please-" Rori sighed.
"If you don't, I will order you to," he said, his tone broking no argument. "I don't care if you believe me or not but I enjoy your tales and I want to hear more."
"Then you must order me to, Sir."
Thorin raised his eyebrows.
"Very well. Your king commands you to tell him a story of adventure and bravery."
Rori thought for a moment, silently sulking at being forced to show her bookish side after their earlier fight but still, she would not disobey him. She remembered an elvish children's story about a young elf who left home cocky and arrogant and though the trials he endured on his journeys, returned home confident and brave.
The story lasted for an hour or so and after a few minutes, she forgot to be self conscious and her earlier storytelling style began to reassert itself but by the time she had finished, they were both feeling tired and were ready to sleep.
Thorin made a point to approach her as she made up her bed. She turned to him, though her head was bowed, probably fearing the worst of him. He raised her chin with one finger again.
"Good night, my story teller. Thank you for sharing your gift with me." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well," and then, he left her and began preparing his own bed.
Thoroughly confused, Rori made herself comfortable on her bed and although she expected to be awake for hours, reliving and replaying their earlier arguments, she soon drifted off into a deep sleep.
She was woken a few hours later by something furiously shaking her shoulder.
"Wake up! Oh please wake up. Please!"
Rori rubbed at her eyes and turned to the voice.
"Mor-" Rori just had enough presence of mind to realise that she couldn't say the faerie's name as it would be the third time. "What do you want?" she asked.
"Goblins are coming," the faerie cried. "Please hurry, they aren't far away now."
Rori was on her feet in a flash and ran over to Thorin, quickly waking him.
"Orcs," she said.
Thorin needed nothing more and as quickly and quietly as he could, he threw off his covers and drew his sword.
Rori also drew her sword and they stood back to back on the path, a common defensive position. The horses were closest to the rock face where they could rest easily without worrying about falling over the edge, so they were relatively protected from any confrontation.
"Where?" Thorin asked quietly.
Rori looked to Morgana who was hovering beside them. Thorin looked at her too, seeming to notice her for the first time. Rather than pointing left or right along the path, Morgana pointed down.
Thorin and Rori shared a look over their shoulders, then they carefully leaned out over the cliff edge. Six shapes were scaling the rock face as easily as if it were a flight of stairs.
Rori and Thorin looked at each other again, wondering how to fight an enemy from above.
Just then Morgana flew into their line of sight, though her path was uneven and she was having trouble keeping herself in the air because of the large rock she was holding. It wasn't large by human standards, nor even by dwarf standards, but it was extremely heavy for faerie. She dropped the rock over the edge but it skipped harmlessly off the first orc and completely missed the others. Still, it wasn't actually a bad idea.
Thorin quickly looked around but there were no decent sized rocks or boulders in the vicinity. Well, if there were none, he'd just have to make some. He jammed his sword into a crack in the rock face and strained with all his might. The rocks moved a fraction but no more. Rori jammed her sword in below his and they both tried to pry some rocks loose but to no avail.
"Move!" Morgana cried and when they had withdrawn their swords and stepped back, she threw something into the crack in the rock face that a moment later exploded. The rocks crumbled into a pile on the mountain path. Thorin and Rori quickly picked up two larger ones and hurled them off the edge of the path at the orcs below. Not a moment too soon either as they were barely five feet below them now.
Thorin's rock hit the closest orc and sent him tumbling from the rock face, Rori's hit it's target but her orc managed to hold on. They repeated the action, over and over, putting as much force as they could behind the rocks.
They heard another small explosion behind them and realised that Morgana had liberated some more rocks for them to use as missiles. Before much longer thay had knocked five orcs from the mountainside and the remaining one looked indecisive. Thorin raised a rock above his head but the orc must have decided that discretion was the better part of valour, as he let go of the cliff face and fell back to join his fiends.
"They'll come back," Morgana said. "Ever since they were defeated in the battle, they've been fending for themselves in small packs and some of them are almost feral. They won't give up now that they know your scent."
"Thank you for warning us," Rori said to Morgana as she went to calm the ponies, who seemed most upset after all the action.
"Why did you help us?" Thorin asked the faerie.
"You let me go," Morgana said. "Not many people would have, so I've been keeping an eye on you."
"Are you sure you weren't planning more mischief?" he asked.
"No mischief," Morgana looked sad. "I can't afford to risk upsetting you."
"But wouldn't it be better for you if we were dead?" he asked.
"Maybe," Morgana shrugged. "But I don't meet many people, especially nice ones who keep their word. But we can discuss this later, you must move on now. If I know goblins, and I think I do, they'll be regrouping and will come at you again within a few hours. Some have even overcome their fear of daylight now, they're that hungry. Please hurry and pack up your things."
"How far are we from the edge of the mountains?" Rori asked, having heard the conversation.
"Almost a week," Morgana answered. "But I can show you a short cut that will speed your journey and help you avoid them."
"You could be leading us into a trap," Thorin pointed out.
"I cannot help you if you won't trust me," Morgana pointed out.
"I think we should trust her," Rori argued. "Fairies are renowned for knowing the quickest route between two points and if she wished us harm, she could have let those orcs kill us."
Thorin looked from Rori to the fairy. He was naturally inclined to distrust strangers and even more so in this case, given the problems the faerie had tried to cause. Still, Rori had point and it seemed an awful lot of trouble for a creature to go to if she wished them harm.
"Very well, but I know your name too so if there's any funny business, I will enslave you faster than you can blink. Understood?"
Morgana nodded. "But please, we must go now!"
Rori and Thorin loaded and saddled the ponies and followed Morgana as she began to lead them along the trail. When they came to a fork on the path, Morgana took them on the lower road rather than the higher path and by the time dawn was breaking, they were travelling in the valley between two mountains.
Thorin was ready for attack from any direction but he didn't argue with the faerie any more. Finally he saw the end of the valley approaching and was pleased that they would have to go up again but instead, the faerie guided them into a cave on the left side of the valley.
Thorin and Rori both paused at the entrance and looked at each other.
"We've come this far," Rori said, though she too was holding her reins with only one hand, her other resting on her belt, near her sword.
"This is a faerie path," Morgana said, turning back once she realised that they were no longer following her. "No one dares travel a faerie path, even if they don't believe in us."
"Then why would you allow us safe passage?" Thorin asked.
"Because it's the fastest way out of the mountains. Besides, we don't hurt people who walk the path, only those who block it."
Thorin was willing to take the risk. He was King Under the Mountain after all, so caves were not frightening to him. They followed the fairy in and after a right turn, they followed a path that ran beside an underground spring.
Most people would have lost all sense of time without the sun to help separate days, but being underground was normal for dwarves and their body-clocks kept impeccable time.
Morgana didn't need to sleep but she paused each evening to allow them to rest (as long as they camped to the side of the path, therefore allowing fairies free passage) and after two days underground, they emerged from the underground tunnel into bright sunshine on the other side of the Misty Mountains.
Thorin stopped his pony and turned to Morgana.
"We are in your debt," he told the faerie. "If you should ever need assistance, you can count on the Dwarves of Erebor to offer any aid you may require."
"Thorin Oakenshield, King of Durin's Folk, King Under the Mountain and Friend of the Fey." Morgana bowed to him then turned to Rori and bowed. "And Rori Storyteller, Queen Under the Mountain and Friend of the Fey. May your journey be swift and may the gods watch over you and keep you safe."
Rori didn't know what to say to that, she was not Queen, nor was her name Storyteller but to correct the faerie seemed impolite, so she simply bowed her head.
"Thank you for your help."
Morgana smiled and held out a small leather purse to Rori.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Dust," Morgana grinned. "Take some, wish what you want it to do, like when I made it exploded to loosen the rocks, then throw or sprinkle the dust and it will do as you ask."
Rori had no intention of using something she didn't understand (not to mention that the tiny purse could only hold a very small amount) but she realised that this was indeed an important gift. She had read about faerie dust in her books but she had never heard of a mortal being given any.
"Thank you."
Morgana bowed once again then flew away, back into the cave entrance they had just come from.
"Where are we?" Rori asked.
"Not where we should be," Thorin said darkly. "Over there, that is the Ettenmoors."
Rori knew that the Ettenmoors were home to all kinds of evil creatures, from Orcs to Trolls and a few more besides. She looked at the spring they had followed out of the mountains which, thanks to a few other tributaries joining it, was now wide enough to be called a river. If she remembered her geography correctly, that river would lead them through Rhudaur. Uninhabited, save for a few Watchmen, that was the safer route to take.
"That does not mean it is without risk," Thorin reminded her after she had explained where the river led. "Who knows what may have moved into this land since the men left."
Rori agreed with him and they both continued on their way with a grim determination. If luck was with them, the land truly would be uninhabited but if not, there was no saying what dangers might lay ahead.
They travelled by the river until nightfall, when they headed away from the water to make their camp. Despite the ability to ride side by side now, Thorin hadn't asked her to keep him entertained since they left the misty mountains, he preferred to keep his attention focused on what might be lurking around them. They didn't light a fire that evening but rather ate in silence and then went to sleep.
They arose the next morning and headed back to the river to follow it south. At times Thorin could have sworn that he could sense something following them but he could find no evidence of anything.
On the third night he became certain that something was tracking them. They camped away from the river again and Thorin tried to act relaxed. He lit a fire and opened a few bottles of ale which he shared with Rori, though he topped her glass up far more frequently than his own. Then after a hearty meal he asked for a story, which Rori was happy to provide, complete with songs. Rori felt merry but the truth is that she was more than a little drunk.
She was glad that Thorin seemed so relaxed. She hadn't seen any evidence of something evil lurking around them but his mood had rubbed off onto her, which made her tense too. She hoped that now that they had put some distance between them and the Ettenmoors, they could get back to the easy camaraderie they had shared at the beginning of the trip.
It felt odd to think they had left the Lonely Mountain less than three weeks ago, it felt like a lifetime.
Feeling dozy from the ale, Rori didn't even bother to make her bed up this evening but simply laid down by the fire and began to snore loudly.
Thorin smiled, enjoying drunk-Rori rather a lot. She couldn't hold her liquor, that was for certain, but she was a good drunk. Some dwarves became aggressive after imbibing too much alcohol but Rori became friendlier, less shy and she laughed much more readily, and often at some truly poor jokes on his part.
He made a show of draining the last of his ale then followed Rori's lead and laid down beside the fire to sleep.
Anyone watching then could have been forgiven for thinking Thorin was as drunk as Rori, which was indeed what the orc who had been following them thought. His companions had been too badly injured by the rocks Thorin hurled at them to continue to give chase. Some tried but they couldn't keep up with Gormog.
Gormog had been in the hall of the Goblin King when Thorin and his company had killed their king. He had also been at the battle of five armies and had just barely managed to escape with his life, but it pleased him to know that Thorin was dead. When he had caught Thorin's scent again in the mountains, he hadn't believed that it could be him but it had been, and now the only thing Gormog wanted was revenge.
His life had been hell since the orc king had been killed. The few remaining orcs who had survived the battle, lived on what scraps they could find in the mountains. They were little more than animals now and Gormog longed for the days of ease, when their numbers ensured their safety and that their society thrived.
As far as Gormog was concerned, this dwarf was to blame for all the misfortune that his kind had suffered and Thorin would pay. Gormog even dared to brave the sunlight to ensure that he could have his vengeance on Thorin.
And now he had his chance. Thorin thought that the danger had passed and in true dwarf style, had celebrated with a hearty meal and a few bottles of ale. Now he was passed out in front of his fire, as helpless as a new born child.
Gormog crept forward from his hiding place, careful to make as little noise as possible, and slowly he approached the two dwarves. He hesitated for a moment as he saw the Orcrist catch the firelight. He considered fleeing for that sword had seen the demise of many orcs but he had come too far to let his courage fail him now. He picked up a rock which he planned to use to smash Thorin's head in with (since he had no weapons these days) and crept to the edge of the treeline.
Thorin hadn't moved but his hobbit companion was snoring loudly. Perhaps he wouldn't kill her immediately. He and his friends could have some fun with her before they ate her.
He stepped out of the cover of the trees and in three steps, covered the ground to Thorin. He was somewhat surprised when Thorin kicked out with all his might, catching him in the shin and causing him to howl in pain as he fell over. Thorin was on his feet seconds later, the Orcrist drawn and swinging down at his head. He somehow deflected the blow with the stone he was carrying and got to his feet as quickly as he could.
Thorin was already coming at him so he did the first thing that occurred to him that could save his life, he ran to the hobbit who was travelling with Thorin, intending to use her as a shield. He didn't have much fondness for hobbits anyway.
To his surprise, though not steady on her feet she was also upright, her sword drawn and up close he noticed something that he had missed while he followed them. She had a very slight beard!
"You're no hobbit!" he cried, suddenly realising that he was facing two dwarves, not one!
Still momentarily stunned by the unfairness of it all, he barely felt it as Thorin's sword removed his head from his shoulders and he fell down, dead.
"Are you okay?" Thorin asked Rori.
"Um, fine," she answered, still somewhat confused by this turn of events.
Thorin nodded and dragged the orc's body away from their camp, picking up the head as he passed it.
Rori built the fire up a little more then sat beside it, wondering when her pleasant evening had changed into an attack. Her dwarf reflexes had caused her to jump to her feet and draw her sword when she heard the orc scream, but she still had no clue what had happened.
Thorin returned to camp a few moments later and she was surprised to realise that he didn't look any the worse for wear. In fact he looked stone cold sober. She looked to the three bottles of ale that lay beside the fire and realised that she must have drunk the majority of it, which would explain why she felt so bad while Thorin looked so good.
"He'd been following us," Thorin explained. "I had to make him think that we had dropped our guard so that he would make his move."
She didn't much like the idea that he had left her unable to defend herself properly but then again if one of them had to be counted out, she was the better choice as Thorin was a thousand times the fighter that she was. She would probably feel better about it in the morning, when her thoughts weren't quite so fuzzy. Yes, she decided, that was a very good idea, so she laid back down and went to sleep, Thorin's hearty laugh accompanying her into dream land.
Thorin had to laugh really, for she had looked so confused by everything. Hardly surprising considering how much alcohol he had give her this evening, but to see the girl who knew everything (at least it felt like that sometimes) looking so confused was probably the funniest thing he had witnessed all year.
She began snoring loudly again and Thorin got her blanket out of their belongings and placed it over her, before getting his own bedding out and settling down for the rest of the night,
