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Chapter 15

Kili hobbled a long distance from the dwarves camp, setting his eyes and ears to intensive observance of the trees. The night before, the large group had covered a surprising distance on the road, reaching a familiar point of their previous travels and coming to forest and hills which fueled Kili's hope that this nightmare would be over soon.

While he thought on this, he did not expect that a four-point buck would practically offer itself to him so quickly, but luck was on his side and he felled the deer with only two arrows.

Standing over the body of the animal and pulling his arrows loose from its flesh, a new problem dawned on him.

His injury, his march, and his lack of sleep were gaining on him, all at the same time in which he would have to drag the heavy carcass back to the caves. It was not too far, but it would still require strength—and he questioned whether or not he had it.

Kili, however, was determined to complete his task and dragged the beast at a slow pace, pausing often and favoring the foot which had swollen in his boot. He would not be surprised if the boot refused to come off, though he made no attempt to free his foot from it.

He was grateful no one had accompanied him; he was a little ashamed at the amount of time it took to haul the deer, seeing that it was almost midday. And that's when he felt a chill on his neck.

An unnerving feeling filled Kili, though he could not determine why.

He glanced around at the trees, sure that something had decided he was interesting enough to watch. He expected at least to see a squirrel, but his ears picked up almost no noise—and that was unsettling within itself. The forest always made a bit of noise…

He gripped his bow, instinct telling him that there was something watching him from behind, and strung an arrow before wheeling around and aiming at the source of the eyes he was sure were there.

But Kili's aim was a little off and he realized that there was a face looking at him from only a few feet to the left of the spot.

The body hurled itself from the tree branch at him, growling as it did, and the arrow which Kili loosed pushed the lunging body backward.

A crumpled pile of limbs and hair thudded against the leafy ground and Kili strung another arrow in anticipation of a second attack.

Turning to face his original direction, the approaching figure of Ibun was closing in on him and stopped only a few feet away, murmuring, "Ah, the would-be prince."

Kili speculated as to why Ibun stood there unmoving, but his question was answered with a sharp blow to his shoulder. Someone had struck him from behind and he could not turn to see them, dropping to his knees and almost falling over the deer at his feet.

He had meant to feign a fall and take the foe from behind by surprise, but when his knees made contact with the deer's antlers his plans changed to groaning and trying to suppress a cry.

Ibun waved an axe in a circle around his arm, preparing to deliver a killing blow. "This is for my brother."

"And this is for mine!" A voice snarled from behind Ibun. The black-haired petty-dwarf had not stopped his weapon from moving downward, only turning his face to see who was behind him. The heaving muscles of Dul pushed Ibun aside, causing his axe to come within inches of Kili's face.

Kili gasped, feeling the passing air from the weapon whoosh close to his eye and cheek, and he panted while trying to recover his senses.

The dwarf who had delivered the blow from behind Kili decided to ignore the now wrestling Dul and Ibun and finish his own task of taking on the Durin prince.

But Kili was prepared for him and grabbed the antlers of the deer, thrusting them over his head and stabbing his assailant through the chest. The surprised dwarf collapsed to the ground and Kili rose to his feet, biting back his desire to screech when his damaged foot began to send sharp pains to his knee.

He raised his head to see Dul standing over a defeated Ibun, bringing his foot up and sending his monstrous boot down onto the petty-dwarf's skull. A sickening crack erupted from the movement, like a walnut being crushed.

Dul wiped his hands on his pants and glanced at the astonished Kili.

"You don't look so good." Dul said.

Kili was startled by this statement, so casual in the face of what had just happened, but he imagined Dul had waited long to avenge the horrible acts inflicted on him and his family.

"We need to warn Thorin." Dul said, shouldering the dead deer and walking toward their makeshift camp.

Though he wouldn't have admitted it, Kili was grateful that Dul led the way, as he was so out of sorts that his sense of direction was faltering.

They broke from the cover of trees and witnessed the moving figures of a few dwarves, stirred from sleep and working to care for the others.

Dul brought the deer over his head and threw it on the ground in front of him when they'd closed the distance and instructed someone to skin it and section off pieces of meat for stew and some for drying so they could store it for later.

Three bodies moved quickly to do their leader's bidding and Kili wobbled to sit on the ground.

He was light-headed and barely noticed when Thorin had come to stand at his side. His uncle laid a hand on the young dwarf's head.

"Sleep." Thorin commanded, pointing to a tent they had been able to raise next to the caves. The caves were small and could barely house their occupants comfortably, so Thorin had set to expanding their dwellings in the hopes of finding at least a few of them some privacy.

And this was where Kili crawled to now, unable to lift himself off of the ground. His uncle's arms reached around his sides and pulled Kili upward, partly carrying him to the shelter of the tent. They disappeared inside for a moment before Thorin came out and stood close to Dul, seeing that the dwarf had something pressing on his mind.

"Ibun and two others went after Kili." Dul murmured low enough that Thorin had to incline his ear to the burly dwarf.

"There are more." Thorin grumbled. "They wouldn't follow us all this way if they were only a few, but I imagine there are not enough to overtake us. They would have attacked us already, in the open, instead of hiding and hoping to catch us off guard. They mean to frighten and waylay us for no other purpose than revenge. We can be of no other use to them."

Thorin was pensive for a moment, considering strategy and their resources. "We need to call back our trappers and gatherers."

"Ibun is dead." Dul insisted. "And he indicated that his brother was. The petty-dwarves would not be brave enough to threaten us without their leaders."

"But you forget, friend," Thorin said before stomping away. "Of the leaders, only two are dead. There is one more."

Nur brushed her fingers through the running stream, savoring its chill and wetness. She knelt by the moving water, intending to fill the water skins she'd brought with her.

The princess had accomplished her task to set snares and had returned to the caves before midday, insisting that water was needed just as much as food. Thorin had hesitantly agreed with her, telling her to return as quickly as she could.

But Nur began to regret not having had an escort, for the trees had begun to stare at her darkly and she was timid under their looming eyes. She scolded herself for being so childish, but something about this forest was making her uneasy.

Shaking her head, she realized she was sitting next to a patch of red berries and began to gather them.

"Poison." A voice called out to her from behind. It startled her, but she steadied her breathing and said, "Who's there?"

"Those berries are poison." The voice uttered from somewhere different, and she could not place where it was coming from now.

"Who is there?" She demanded.

"But then, you're immune to poison, aren't you?" The phantom growled. "At least, you were at the outpost."

Nur weaved her head around, trying to find the source, but realizing that it was not in the same place as before. Someone was moving stealthily around her.

"Words can be poison." The voice continued, and though Nur wanted to run from it, she didn't dare move until she understood which direction it came, so as not to run into it. "And you're not immune to words, are you?"

"Show yourself!" She shouted in terror.

No figure appeared, but she felt something smack against her shoulder and she peered at the ground below her, seeing an oddly shaped nut. She looked to the trees and shouted again, "Who are you?"

"Do you not know the voice of your beloved?" it spoke in mock tenderness. Another nut smacked her leg and dropped to the ground beside the other nut.

"Gren?" Nur's eyes widened and her hands shook.

"But I forget myself, you found another."

Nur looked again at the nuts at her feet and curiosity got the better of her, causing her to stoop and pick them up. They were soft.

"Surely, if you did not recognize my voice, then you would recognize his."

A low moan could be heard from a distance, but Nur could not see anyone. "Fili?"

"Surely, you know your newer companion well enough to recognize any part of him." Gren's voice slithered through the trees.

Another nut hit her in the face this time, but she realized that they were not nuts that were pelting her, they were far too soft… she glanced at the objects in her hand and shuddered when she realized they were fingers.

With a shriek, she dropped them, her hands raising away from them as if they were snakes, and clutching her face, she cried out, "No! No, you lie!"

An answering moan called out her name. She stumbled forward, meaning to seek after the moan, but a heavy set of hands shoved her from behind and she tumbled into the stream face first.

Her hands grasped frantically for something, anything, to push against and resurface and it might have registered in her mind that the stream was very shallow if she had not been so overcome with fear.

Finally shoving against the bottom of the small river, she rose above the waterline, only to be pushed under again in an instant by unseen hands. She choked and sputtered, but had enough of her senses to surface above the water again, raising herself out of the stream and crawling on shaky hands to the muddy and grassy land beside it.

Nur hacked and vomited water, her eyes wide and alert, but still she could not see anyone else. With her head spinning wildly and her limbs desperate to take her into a run, she looked around for some indication of which way it was to get back to the caves.

"It's the other way." Taunted Gren's voice, as though reading her thoughts.

He sounding as though he were above her.

She glanced upward, and could see a slight movement of black, but nothing else.

The sun had begun to decline and the light was diminishing over the mountains, casting premature darkness over an already darkened forest. She clung to the light, feeling as though the black of night might consume her with her terrifying adversary.

Again, she was struck by something, but she dared not look down to see what it was, squeezing her eyes shut and panting.

Nur was trying to gain some control over her fearful mind, but her body was rattled with tremors and shivers—she wished she could stop, she wanted her limbs to obey her, but they were weak from marching, weak from lack of sleep, and now weak from her plunge into the stream.

"What do you want?" She moaned, her hand grabbing her forehead in an effort to settle herself.

"I'm fulfilling a promise," Gren spoke from a distance and Nur guessed that he was leaping from branch to branch, "I made to your loved one before he dies."

This time Nur heard the crunch of twigs and heard the moaning voice gurgle and sputter, releasing a loud breath and silencing itself.

"Or rather," Gren amended. "I should say 'died'."

This time Nur was struck by something sharp, and it cut a tear into her shoulder sleeve, pulling at the skin underneath it and slicing a shallow incision.

Her hand flew to the blood that seeped out and her eyes fell to the blade on the ground.

It was Fili's knife.

And the handle was covered with a bloody handprint.

If Nur had doubted before whether Gren really had Fili, she didn't now.

If she had been able to gather her senses, she would have realized the knife had come free from her pocket when Gren had pushed her into the stream, but the blade only served as confirmation to her primal-panicked mind that Fili was either dead or seriously injured.

Gren was enjoying himself, taking pleasure in her terror, and relishing the empowerment he felt in seeing her defeated mind slowly accept his words.

Nur wailed and spun around, determined to run back to the caves, though at this point she was so disoriented that she didn't know which way they were, and felt a branch collide with her forehead.

She'd run right into a tree, overcome by the waning light and her chaotic senses.

"I promised him, Nur," Gren bellowed with a laugh. "that I would make your death longer and more painful than his."

Nur panted, her vision blurring and her hope dwindling.

"I promised." Gren repeated wickedly.