Finished the paper quicker than I thought… oh well. That means a new chapter for you guys, much earlier than anticipated.
This chapter is a bit of a prelude, it will get very dark again in the following chapters ;) Thanks to everyone for the reviews and also thanks to those who wished me luck with the paper. It worked!
Enjoy the chapter!
Their slumber was disturbed in the early hours of the morning by a loud banging on the wooden gates. Alarmed and weary that it might be orcs trying to break into the fortress, Thorin and Dáin stood with their weapons drawn, Dáins soldiers up in arms already while Thorins company of tinkers and toymakers still had to rub the sleep from their eyes.
It was however no pack of orcs knocking at their front door. It was Gandalf who, as Thorin only noticed now, had not joined their party the night before. The wizard looked upset and a little rough as he hurried into the hall.
"Good! Good!", he muttered. "You're all up and ready, get going then!"
"Going? Where?", Thorin asked and Dáin, who mistrusted the wizard anyways, leaned on his red battle axe, curiously eyeing the old man.
"Where? Are you seriously asking me that, Thorin Oakenshield?!", Gandalf thundered. "Dawn is approaching, daylight will soon shine, this is your chance! The orcs are retiring into the mountain during the day, most of them will sleep, if this is not the right time to attack then I do not know what is!"
Bilbos heart dropped and he suddenly felt a large lump in his throat. He carefully looked over to Fíli and Kíli who had both grown very pale all of a sudden and for the first time he actually saw the fear on their faces. It had all been talk and adventure yesterday but now, on the brim of heading out and into battle, the two youngsters suddenly seemed very much terrified.
"He's right", Dáin muttered. "This way we might not have to face the entire colony but only few of'em.
"Wargs will guard the entrance to the mountain", Thorin chipped in and Dáin nodded, still casually leaning onto his axe.
"No doubt about that. But as it seems you've raised some very skilled warg hunters", he glimpsed over to Fíli and Kíli. "My men are ready. Are yours ready too?"
Thorin looked around his company and suddenly felt very small and crestfallen. The only true warriors amongst them were Dwalin, who was still injured, Balin and himself. Óin and Glóin, though of Durins line as well, were men of business and treasurers. Ori, Dori and Nori were travelling merchants, trained to defend themselves but none of them had ever served in battle before. Bofur, Bifur and Bombur, though sturdy and brave were only miners and toymakers. And Kíli and Fíli had only just tasted some fighting and no idea what they were getting themselves into. He didn't even want to think about the Halfling.
When not a word came from their leader, the small company quickly realised that they were not sufficient. Especially the dwarves of the far east looked hurt and disappointed, Bofur even ready to turn his back on Thorin, when suddenly Kílis voice echoed through the hall.
"We are ready! Every single one of us!"
Thorin stared at him, surprise showing on his features.
"We all knew that this quest is no waltz, we were ready the very moment we set off on this journey! We've come so far and if the only thing, that is keeping us from rightfully reclaiming what is ours, is a horde of orcs, then so be it! I am not going to back down! And neither are the others!"
Thorin couldn't believe it when his small company suddenly broke out in cheers, soon joined by Dáins soldiers. Gandalf looked from one dwarf to the other, smiling to himself and even the greatest warrior amongst them had to smirk underneath his black beard.
"And what does the other heir of Durin say to this?", he thundered.
"Let's slay some orcs", Fíli smirked.
Dáin roared with laughter, forcefully patting Thorin on the back. "You should back down old man and let your nephews do the job for you!"
And Thorin smiled. Relieved and earnest and oh so proud of the boys, who stood their ground even when he couldn't.
"Right then. Everybody get going! We have orcs to kill!"
The sun was rising above the Grey Mountains, painting the grassland and slopes in a bloody red, when the dwarves arrived at the base of Mount Gundabad. It had grown very quiet, the orcs already lingering deep inside the mountain again.
Bilbo, though scared and fearing for his life, had refused to stay behind, impressing Thorin but even more so Fíli and Kíli, who had tried to convince him to stay in the fortress. To no avail. The hobbit stood beside Gandalf, observing the great wooden entrance into the mountain in a distance. They had never come so close to Mount Gundabad before.
"Do you… do you really think it is wise to fight inside a mountain?", he blipped, becoming more and more nervous with every passing second.
"The caverns and caves and tunnels of the mountains are dwarven territory. Letting them fight on an open field might impose risks but trust them, my dear Bilbo, they know how to fight under the ground. Probably better than any orc does", the wizard smiled a little and though Bilbo was not completely convinced, he did feel a bit better.
"I brought soldiers, no scouts", Dáin mumbled as he looked at the gate. "Just marching there without knowing what awaits us might be unwise."
Just one glance from Thorin was enough and Fíli and Kíli scurried off, quietly and quickly.
"Well", Dáin raised his eyebrows. "They really are quite a courageous pair."
"They are of Durins line. What did you expect?", Thorin answered, his chest rising with pride.
The two youngsters hurried across the grassland, using every rock and every broom to hide. Their dwarven size and steady treadle made them invisible to an orc eye and they managed to get close to the front gate, where they lingered, hiding behind a large rock.
"Thorin was right", Kíli whispered. "There are wargs guarding the entrance."
He counted at least a dozen, lazily lying at the gate and above, some of them even yawning or gnawing on large bones.
"Those can't be the only ones", Fíli mumbled. He looked back over his shoulder, assessing the distance from their spot to the others. "If we could draw them away from the mountain and slay them on the fields below, the orcs won't notice the fight and we could get into the mountain without alerting them."
The young dwarves looked at each other, once again not needing to say a word to know that they were thinking the same.
"Remember what we swore to each other", Kíli said quietly.
"You remember it as well", Fíli replied, smiling a little. He gently ruffled his younger brothers hair, nothing but love showing on his features and Kíli smiled as well, before he nodded.
"Let's do this then."
A large grey warg casually stretched on one of the rocks towering above the entrance to the mountain. It yawned and blinked irritated at the sunlight, gnarling a little before resting its massive head on its front paws. Beside it lay another warg, lighter and smaller but no less lazy and tired from hunting in the night.
The arrow came out of nowhere, drilling itself deep between the eyes of the smaller animal, letting it drop dead on the spot. The other warg startled, snarling deep and feverishly began to look around, but couldn't find the archer. It got up from its spot, sniffing the air and thus alarmed the other wargs.
Another arrow hit a second warg in the head, killing it instantly. A third one dropped dead from a throwing axe, then a fourth one and the animals grew more and more belligerent, howling and snarling, baring their teeth at the invisible assaulter.
When they finally descended from the mountain slopes, the young dwarves waited in some distance. As expected, there were more than just the dozen they had counted before. They lingered in caves and on various platforms, overall possibly thirty large Gundabad wargs, that slowly made their way down onto the grassland.
"I'll take the path to the left", Kíli whispered and his brother nodded.
"Be careful."
"You too."
They looked at each other one last time before they rushed off in opposite directions.
Again an arrow flew through the air, hitting a warg right in the shoulder and causing it to howl in pain. This time though, they found the archer. Kíli stood on a rock, his sword drawn.
"Oi! You mangy mutt! Over here!"
A black throwing knife darted right into the face of another warg and a few yards away, Fíli stood on a stump, the battle hammer in his hands.
"Try this way you filthy fleabag!"
The plan of the youngsters worked out way better than they expected as the wargs suddenly dashed forward, sprinting right at the dwarves. Without hesitation, they both turned around and rushed down the grassland, Fíli to the right, Kíli to the left.
They knew that they couldn't outrun the wargs forever, for those beasts were amongst the fastest creatures of middle earth and the dwarves with their short legs were no born sprinters. They did have one advantage though and that was their small size.
Kíli soon heard the panting of the beasts in his back and as he briefly looked over his shoulder, he saw the first wargs only a few feet behind himself, already snapping at him. He quickly swerved to the side, causing the closest warg to crash straight into a broom. He felt the ground tremble under the massive weight of the beasts, heard the sharp claws scratching on the ground and the clicking of the jaws and he silently prayed that he would make it back to the company alive. He glimpsed to his right and found Fíli a little ahead, running like mad himself.
One warg, a rather small and slim one, quickly caught up with the older dwarf but before it could bury its teeth in Fílis leg, the dwarf brought his battle hammer down on the animal, not slowing down at all. The warg yowled and fell behind. Fíli knew that he couldn't keep this up for too long, feeling a stitch coming up and breathing became harder and harder but he focused on the way before him.
He slipped through a narrow gap between two bigger rocks just in time before another warg could snap at his back, causing the great animal to get stuck in the crack. It didn't stop the rest of them though, easily jumping over the barrier and following the dwarf.
"What do you see?", Thorin shouted to Nori who stood on a larger rock, looking out for the youngsters.
"They're on their way back!", Nori yelled, his eyes suddenly growing wide as he spotted the pack of wargs on their heels. "And they're bringing the party with them!"
"They are doing what?!", Dwalin bellowed, already drawing his battle axes just as everyone else got ready for a fight.
"Fools", Thorin breathed and Dáin grinned right next to him.
"Maybe", he said, drawing his own massive axe, its blade nearly as large as the hobbit. "Now let's get the vanguard out of the way, shall we?"
Thorin still did not seem happy but nonetheless prepared for battle, Orcrist firmly in his grip. Kíli was the first to arrive, crashing through the barrier of armed dwarves, Fíli following close by.
Only a second later, the wargs dashed into the little group, greeted by axes, battle hammers and swords. Thorin slammed Orcrists blade deep into the throat of one, Dáin buried his axe in another ones skull and Dwalins axes split the spine of another. Even the youngsters did not hesitate for a second and soon Fílis bronze battle hammer swung around, breaking jaws and bones, while Kílis sword tore through flesh and muscles.
It was a morbid sight. One beast after the other fell under the dwarven weapons and the warriors of the Iron Hills didn't even leave them any time to cry out for they were swift and without mercy. Dáin alone killed four of them and didn't seem to slow down at all, once again mesmerizing Kíli, who tried his best to keep up.
In between the turmoil stood the small hobbit. He kept close to Fíli and regarded it as his task, to kill the wargs that Fíli had brought down with his battle hammer. Mercy killings, he called it later, though it was probably true bravery that drove Bilbo on.
Not long and most wargs lay dead or gravely wounded, their blood drenching the grassland in the morning sun. The dwarves already expected victory, some taking a deep breath, leaning heavily on their weapons, when a low snarling distracted them. Three more wargs appeared on a large ledge to their right. One was a muscular grey one, unusually pretty for a warg, yet baring its fangs. The second one was almost of a beige colour, very pale but agile and slim and when Thorin recognised the third one, his features turned grim and hatred was plastered across his face, for the third one was the light brown beast, that had stolen the key from him down at the Old Forest.
The warg snarled at him, smirking down and Thorin steadied his foothold, sword in hands.
"Go on to the gates!", he bellowed at the dwarven warriors behind him. "Break them in, only few stay behind with me and we will follow as soon as those monstrosities are dead!"
Under Dwalins lead, the warriors rushed onwards without any hesitation, leaving piles of dead wargs behind. The ones staying with Thorin were Dáin, Fíli and Kíli.
"Now that's nice", Dáin muttered. "Like a family holiday."
"The brown beast is mine", Thorin growled.
Just as Fíli drew his swords and Dáin swung his axe, the light brown warg pushed off the ledge and hurled itself at Thorin.