Right guys, so far only one of you guessed correctly about the help that Thorin called for and I had many guesses coming in. I think you'll be up for a little surprise then :D
We'll be getting on with some more action throughout the next chapters. I won't promise any serious hurt/whump too soon though because those poor lads can't run around wounded all the time ;)
Enjoy the next chapter and once again thanks for all the reviews!
"A long time ago, way before Durins kin lost their home in Erebor, the Ered Luin had been the realm of a very famous, glorious dwarven kingdom. The Dwarves of Nogrod", Ori began after everyone got comfortable. "They were of high renown throughout Middle Earth for their fine craftsmanship and the beautiful jewels they created. Their treasure was immense, some say it even matched the treasure of the great King Thrór during his time, but nobody really knows.
"Their skills were so great and unbeaten, that even the glorious Elven King Thingol had heard of them. Thingol possessed a great treasure, the treasure of Nargothrond. He invited the finest dwarven craftsmen to create their famous jewellery out of the immense treasure and they followed his call and travelled to Doriath.
"They worked hard, day and night and turned all the treasure into the finest embellishments. Their masterpiece however, was a necklace, more beautiful than anyone had ever seen. They called it the Nauglamír and Thingol was so mesmerized by it, that he asked the dwarves for one last favour. He wanted them to embed one of the three legendary Silmaril, the Silmaril of his beautiful daughter Lùthien and her fiancé Beren, into the Nauglamír.
"The dwarves obediently followed Thingols order but when the jewel was finished, they were overcome with malice and greed for they too desired the necklace with the Silmaril. They asked for the Nauglamír as payment for their hard labour. Thingol, realising that the dwarves were after the Silmaril, for none of them could resist a rare jewel, sent them from Doriath without payment, infuriated by their greed and boldness! They ventured back home to tell their kin about the betrayal of the elves, never admitting that they were the ones at fault for they had been greedy and unjust.
"Riled up, King Naugladur of Nogrod travelled to Doriath with an army to reclaim the Nauglamír. They slew Thingol, taking the necklace for themselves. Only a few survived the Battle of the Thousand Caves and those who did fled to the ford of the river Gelion, amongst them King Naugladur who kept the necklace.
"At the ford however, they were ambushed by Beren and the Laiquendi of Ossiriand. Beren slew Naugladur and took the necklace. The few dwarves that survived, fled for the woods and right into the hands of the Ents. They never escaped those woods again.
"Ever since that day, an everlasting hostility remained between the dwarves and the elves that still rages even today, hundreds of years later. A hostility caused by dwarven greed, no more or less."
Ori ended his story and blinked surprised, since all eyes were fixed on him, everyone completely drawn into the story. For even though he was the chronicler, Fíli and Kíli had never known that he was a good story teller and Bilbo never knew about the great treasure and the necklace.
"What happened to the Dwarves of Nogrod? You said that the Ered Luin had been their realm. Where are they now?", the hobbit asked, still mesmerized by the story.
"Nogrod was destroyed during the War of Wrath at the end of the First Age, when the Valar fought Morgoth for the last time and defeated him", Fíli explained, showing himself great knowledge in the history of his kin. "The Blue Mountains broke and the Gulf of Luin flowed into Eriador, tearing Nogrod and Belegost alike. When our kin arrived under the lead of my grandfather, the Ered Luin was unoccupied and in a desolate state. Thráin and Thorin rebuilt the kingdom for our kin to live in."
The hobbit was speechless. He only knew little of Thorins story, nothing of their suffering and he had never imagined the graveness of this quest, nor had he known that Thorin was a great king like this. A king, yes, an exiled king but no king to rebuilt an entire kingdom. And for the first time, Bilbo understood the weight on Thorins shoulders and he felt for him.
The skin-changer hadn't said a word since Ori had ended the story and sat at the end of the table, lighting a pipe. He remained quiet for while, slowly driving Kíli impatient but the youngster stayed calm, still a little taken aback by the story. Growing up with Thorins stories, he had always believed that it was the elves fault that had caused the hostility.
He glanced at his brother but if Fíli was as surprised and disappointed as he was, he didn't show it at all. Instead, Fíli waited for Beorn to say something.
"Young dwarf", their host finally began and Ori flinched a little. "It was very much a dwarven story."
Their hope for help quickly faded, clearly showing on the faces of Bilbo and Ori.
"It was however one of the most haunting stories I have ever heard", Beorn continued and a smile was barely visible under his thick black beard. "Tomorrow morning you shall be given provisions for at least three days, as well as two horses to bring you to the north. They are quite big so two of you will be able to ride one."
Kíli began to beam like a child at the sight of a candy and even Fílis eyes grew wide. Bilbo looked so utterly relieved, his friends were worried that he might topple off the bench, while Ori couldn't quite grasp what was happening.
"Just promise me", Beorn remarked though. "Promise me not to enter the Mirkwood with my horses and to send them back home, should you not need them anymore."
"We promise!", Fíli declared and Kíli grabbed Ori by the shoulders.
"You did it! In Durins name, you did it! Thanks to you we will get to the north in no time!"
"Th-Thanks to me?", Ori muttered.
"Of course! You are the best chronicler ever!", and Kíli hugged Ori, earnestly and cheerfully.
It was then, that one of Oris biggest dreams came true. Fíli and Kíli were impressed. The two great heirs of Durin, those self-confident, strong and glorious princes were impressed by something he had done. He looked at Fíli who smiled gratefully and tears of joy formed in his eyes. The one thing he had always wanted finally happened and now he was regarded as an equal.
They chatted until way past midnight, telling Beorn everything about their journey and, along the way, got the hobbit very very drunk on herb liquor. Bilbo even told the story of Bullroarer Took and sang various tavern songs and after the dwarves and the hobbit had fallen asleep, happily snoring in the makeshift beds that Beorns servants had set up in the hall for them, Beorn left once more to venture out into the night in the form of a great, black bear.
When the little company got up the next morning, they felt slightly hung over and not quite ready to deal with the world but packed their belongings nonetheless. Outside on the yard, Bilbo found himself confronted with the biggest horse he had ever seen in his life. Beorns horses were large, the size of carthorses and way too big for any dwarf or hobbit. One of them was of a dark brown and shining like a chestnut with a black mane and tail and a white blaze. The other one was a dapple grey and couldn't even see properly because of its long fringe. The small hobbit swallowed hard.
"I hope these will do?", Beorn thundered in his deep but friendly voice. "Or might the dwarven lords be afraid of large horses?"
Kíli and Fíli had sure enough grown a little quiet at the sight of the horses. They knew how to ride ponies but those animals were about twice their size and they could barely reach their nostrils.
"Afraid? No, not at all!", Kíli declared quickly, shouldering his belongings. They knew that any saddle would be way too big and uncomfortable, so they had agreed on riding with snaffles only, however now they did not even know how to mount the giant animals. "Do you have a bucket or something?"
Only a few minutes later, Kíli sat on the chestnut brown one, Ori behind him, clinging onto his waist. Fíli had mounted the dapple grey one and Beorn quickly picked Bilbo up, before the hobbit could get second thoughts and sat him in front of Fíli. None of them seemed completely confident about this, except for Beorn who quietly smirked behind his beard.
After they said their goodbyes and thanked Beorn for the shelter and the horses, the skin-changer even promising his help, should they ever need it, they slowly made their way off the yard, still a little weary of their shaking mounts and the ground lying way below their feet.
"We're gonna die", Bilbo muttered quietly, glimpsing down at their large shadows.
"Now now Master Baggins. Remember your great great great and so on uncle. When you come back home to Bag End, you can tell everyone that you have ridden on a really big horse", Fíli tried to cheer Bilbo up, even though the hobbit didn't seem too convinced.
They followed the Anduin again, riding along its shores and after a while, they had grown used to the rocking of the large horses, actually finding them a lot more comfortable than their little ponies. Ori kept looking for landmarks and seemed surprised about their quick progress. Those horses really were worth their weight in gold.
By nightfall, Thorin had still refused to leave their camp behind and move on to the Grey Mountains. He knew they still had time at hand before their help would arrive from the east and he was hoping and silently praying for his nephews to arrive soon. Nobody seemed really pleased with the decision of their leader, yet nobody dared to criticise him.
Bifur and Bofur sat on a nights watch outside the old barn within the ruins of the Framsburg. For a long time, they had kept and eye on the burning Mount Gundabad but soon weariness had swept over them like a veil and they had fallen asleep sometime after midnight, the remaining dwarves happily snoring in the barn.
They of course did not notice the shadows creeping up on them in the darkness of the night, blades glistening in the moonlight and hushed voices echoing from the ruins.
Several orcs, alerted by the smouldering campfire, had dared to descend from the mountain, travelled through the abandoned city and now stood, grinning at the sight of the sleeping dwarves.
"He will be pleased", one of them whispered, drawing a horrible, crooked sword. "Any dead dwarf is a good dwarf."
They crept closer, quietly, slowly, one halted before Bofur and lifted his blade high up to slaughter the dwarf in his sleep.
Bofur awoke with a start from the sound of a blade crashing onto another. He recognised Thorins massive fur coat before him, Orcrist gleaming in the dark. "What in Durins-", when he noticed the orcs, he was quickly on his feet, his pickaxe ready to be buried in another skull.
Though caught off guard, the dwarves were quick, gathering their weapons. The clangour of blades was audible far across the ruins of Framsburg, reaching up to the slopes of Mount Gundabad. A scream echoed from the ruins, when one of the orcs buried his sword deeply in Dwalins shoulder, enraging the battle-scarred warrior until he went into a fury, slaying the creature mercilessly with both his axes.
"We need te get out of 'ere!", he yelled at Thorin, pulling the blade from his shoulder. The king of Thorin's Halls beheaded another orc, his clothes and face already stained in black blood.
"Thorin! They know where we are now, we cannot stay 'ere any longer!", Dwalin clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder.
Another orc head rolled and those who knew Thorin, Balin and Dwalin, his closest kin, immediately noticed the frustration and anger in his face. Doris words had eaten him during the past days, guilt was burning his innards away and no matter how many times he had told himself that what he had done was for the best, he couldn't shake the feeling that he might have abandoned his nephews after all.
"Thorin!"
Durin's heir snapped back into reality, the fury slowly vanishing from his eyes. He looked around to find the ground scattered with corpses and cut body parts. Glóin buried his axe in the back of the last remaining orc, then they stood in silence, breathing heavily. And it dawned on them, that they had been found out and no matter where they went from here, they wouldn't be safe anymore. And neither would the youngsters, once they arrived.
"Pack up!", Thorin bellowed. "We're leaving for the Grey Mountains right now, no time to waste!"
"This is folly, Thorin", Balin muttered. "There is no way we can defeat those orcs, no matter where we hide."
"Do you want your home back or not?!", Thorin snapped at him, leaving Balin speechless.
Some of them began to believe that their leader had gone mad, just like his father had done years before him. Others noticed that he was scared to the bones. And then there were the few who remained impressed by his determination, amongst them the heavily wounded Dwalin, who was the first to gather his belongings, despite his bleeding shoulder.
"Ye heard'im! Move!"
They packed up, Balin leaving a landmark and a mysterious writing in old Khuzdul for the youngsters. They left Framsburg quiet as shadows, hurrying down to the mouth of the Anduin to make their way further north without being noticed.