Can't believe that we're nearing 30 Chapters already… and they haven't even glimpsed at Erebor yet. Goodness. Well, at least we're all enjoying it, right?
Not so much of a plot twist with Kíli and Bilbo and I hope you'll forgive me for this rather erm… unspectacular chapter now, it will get interesting again, once they reach Lake-Town and we will encounter another favourite character of mine then.
Thanks for all the reviews, once again, and enjoy the chapter!
To say that Thorin Oakenshield had been furious after hearing what his nephew had done, would be a blatant understatement. Fíli, still badly injured and suffering from fever and pain, had prepared for the worst, or so he thought, believing to be yelled at, sworn at and maybe even dishonoured, for he knew of Thorin's temper and his unreasonable grudge towards the elves.
Thorin however had become so livid that he was not able to stammer a single word. Balin and Bofur feared that he might explode from all the rage boiling inside him but nothing the like happened. Instead, he did what Fíli did not expect and nothing could have hurt the youngster more. He turned his back on his nephew and left, travelling down the border of the Mirkwood without any company and he remained gone for a good two days, before Dwalin and Balin dared to search for him.
"I've screwed up big times, haven't I?", Fíli muttered on the third morning, sitting by the glowing fire, a cup of tea in his hands.
"You did what you had to do", Gandalf gently replied. "Your uncle will eventually return to his senses."
Ori kindly refilled their cups and slumped back to his spot next to Fíli. He knew that he was not what the youngster needed, but he tried nonetheless to be a loving companion, just like Kíli would have been. He had taken care of the younger dwarf, chatting to him, keeping him in a reasonably good mood and comforting him in the dark, long nights, when he yearned most for his brother's warmth and company.
Releasing the elves had not gone down well with some members of the company and some of them refused to speak to Fíli, torn between their loyalty to Thorin and sympathy for the youngster. Bifur, who had just started to warm up to the boys and had even begun to teach them some Iglishmek with Bofur's help, didn't even look at Fíli anymore. Neither did Glóin and Óin, who were proud dwarves of Durin's line and Thorin's beloved cousins. Bombur, Nori and Dori wanted to keep Fíli company but didn't dare to. The only ones supporting the youngster and sitting with him, were Bofur, Ori and Gandalf and Fíli felt incredibly alone.
"Do you think he's alright? In the dungeons?", Fíli asked, carefully twisting the hot mug in his hands.
"Your brother is a tough little fella", the wizard smiled, lighting his pipe. "And he's not alone after all. He has Bilbo to keep him company until Thranduil has decided on what to do with him."
"And if I travelled to Thranduil's palace myself?", Fíli began but was quickly cut off by Bofur, who had grown to be the mother hen of the little group.
"And then we'd have two locked up princes and wouldn't know what to do with you. No lad, you stay here. At least until you feel better."
"But I do feel better!", Fíli protested but Bofur heard none of it.
"Don't talk back to me like that, you still have a fever and you're addicted to poppy seeds", he bluntly stated and not even Fíli could argue with that. Gandalf chuckled quietly.
Since he had been sent to Middle Earth, he had been in the company of many folks. Men, Elves, the other Istari but no company had ever amused him as much as the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Even though the King of Thorin's Halls knew well how to do Gandalf's head in, the two youngest and the merry brothers from the east were Gandalf's hope for the good in this world. The bickering and fighting, the hearty laughter and the simple honesty with which they went about their daily business impressed the wizard and he knew that he would remember them well, even when the days of the dwarves would one day be over.
Thorin meanwhile quietly suffered from his gloomy mood. He had set camp by the ivy passage that Bilbo and Kíli had taken a few days ago and refused to return to the company. He accepted Dwalin and Balin to stay with him but did not say much.
"Come on now, Thorin", Balin tried once again, a faint smile on his lips. "He didn't mean anything by it."
"If I hear one more time that those two don't mean anything by it, I will-", Thorin began but quickly trailed of, for he didn't know what he would do. "I shouldn't have brought them along. They're still too young for this journey."
"They manage quite well so far", Balin reminded him gently, settling down next to him. "The times when they got themselves into trouble was when they were protecting one another. And you can hardly blame them for it."
"But I do!", Thorin thundered.
"Remember the Battle of Azanulbizar?", Dwalin began casually, tending to the faint scratch on his shoulder.
"What of it?"
"You and Frerin were inseparable. Didn't you follow him to the very edge of the East Gate because you were afraid that he might do something reckless while luring Azog from his lair?"
Thorin suddenly grew very quiet. Even though he and his siblings had grown up under the stern watch of his father and grandfather, his brother Frerin and he had been very much like Fíli and Kíli once. Young and foolish, believing the world was theirs to take and nothing could have stopped them, for together they had been invincible.
"He died nonetheless", Thorin muttered.
"And you were injured badly, defending him until his dying moment", Dwalin replied, his deep voice gentle and calm. "You nearly died yourself that day. And that is the only honourable thing to do. I would die for my brother in the blink of an eye if I had to."
"And so would I", Balin agreed, smiling at his brother. "Those boys are extraordinary dwarves and you know it, Thorin."
"They are reckless and quick in their judgement, not thinking before they act!"
"Well, yes I guess they inherited that from their uncle", Balin replied dryly and Dwalin chuckled at the displeased glare that Thorin gave him in return.
Their chatter was disrupted by the silent rustling of leaves and when they turned around to the ivy passage, they froze on the spot.
It was, once again, the cloaked figure of an elf appearing and again the brooch on his chest gave the unwelcome visitor away quickly. Legolas stopped on his tracks, surprised as well to find three dwarves camping by the passage.
"Have you come back to finally fulfil your liability?", Thorin snarled, puffing himself up before the elven prince.
"If by that you mean that I will let myself be captured once again, then no, I did not come back for that", Legolas replied, gripping his bow a little tighter just in case.
"Then why did you come back?", Balin asked, placing a gentle hand on Thorin's shoulder.
"To let you know that your nephew is no longer held captive in the dungeons."
"What did you do to him?!", Thorin thundered, ready to go for the elf's throat if Dwalin hadn't held him back.
"Nothing, he escaped."
For a moment the dwarves did nothing but stare at the young elf. Many incoherent thoughts rushed through Thorin's head at once, some leading him back to his youth in Erebor and to the days in exile, when they travelled around Dunland, trying desperately to find a new place to belong. He remembered his brother and the sheer luck he had felt, having Frerin by his side until his death at the hands of orcs. Other thoughts brought him to the Blue Mountains, to the moment when first Fíli was born and then Kíli five years later and he remembered the faces of his nephews while following him around the halls for days, begging him to take them with him on this quest and at last, his thoughts wandered off to Fíli sitting not far and injured and to Kíli, somewhere in the dark depth of the Mirkwood with a little hobbit in his company and then his head went blank, for he did not know what to make of all this anymore.
"How did he escape?", Balin asked eventually.
"It seems like he was let out of his cell by his invisible little friend and they escaped with one of the rafts my kin uses to trade with the Men of Esgaroth", Legolas replied, still heedful but friendly, for the King of Thorin's Halls did not seem as hostile anymore.
"So he is on his way to Lake-Town", Balin muttered and the elf nodded in agreement.
"Hm", Dwalin smiled under his thick beard. "That little shit."
Balin carefully glanced at Thorin but his features were unreadable and stern and for a moment, the old dwarf feared that his King might do something reckless again. He was thus surprised, when Thorin suddenly picked up his cloak and pulled it around his shoulders.
"Thank you", was all he said, simple and calm, before he turned on his heel and began marching up to the north, where the rest of the company camped.
He reached the other dwarves in the late afternoon again, closely followed by Dwalin and Balin who had hurriedly packed up their little camp by the passage and bid their farewells to Legolas, Balin in a friendly, grateful manner while he had to nudge Dwalin to say anything.
When Thorin came within eyeshot, Fíli quickly rose from his place and regretted it the next minute, for his head began to spin and his side ached badly. He staggered a little, holding onto Ori's shoulder but refused to show any weakness in front of his uncle.
"Sit yourself down", Thorin mumbled. "You've messed yourself up badly enough already, I'm tired of stitching you together over and over again."
"It's not like you did any stitching this time", Fíli retorted bluntly and the air between them burned. Bofur held his breath and Ori began to feel very uncomfortable but when Thorin lowered his gaze, Fíli finally gave in as well and sat down once again.
"It seems as if Mahal did not bless you, nor your brother with a lot of brain", Thorin began after a while, causing Fíli to fluff himself up again but he simply raised his hand, gesturing his nephew to be quiet. "He did bless you with a vast amount of sheer luck though, I suppose."
Fíli blinked at him, not sure of what to say to that.
"Your brother escaped Thranduil's dungeons. He's well and on his way to Lake-Town, remarkably taking the shortest way across the river", Thorin sighed and he couldn't believe that he had to admit that this route was smart and save and very much unlike Kíli to take. He therefore blamed Bilbo for this idea, but did not admit of course, that a Halfling had thought of this brilliant plan and he hadn't.
"He's safe?", Fíli spoke up after a moment of silence, his surprised gaze on his uncle.
"Safe indeed", Thorin nodded.
He had a minute to breathe deeply, before his nephew, despite their fight, flung himself at him, tears of joy and relief running down his cheeks. Ori smiled brightly at Bofur, who just tilted his head a little and watched content and the finally light atmosphere was only disturbed by a sudden "Ouch!" from the youngster, who suddenly remembered his hurting side again and flinched badly, the tears of joy forming into tears of pain.
"Stop hurting yourself!", Thorin bellowed at his nephew and made it worse, when his elbow smashed down hard on the back of Fíli's head. The rest of the company flinched and pulled faces and a quiet "Oooh" or "Ouch" was heard from various directions and the smile that had been on Bofur's face before became a little crooked.
"By my beard, I've been wanting to do that since three days", Thorin muttered under his breath and patted his nephew on the back. "Now stop crying and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we'll follow your useless brother."
Fíli just nodded, gritting his teeth and when his uncle had turned around, he simply collapsed on his back and refused to move until the next morning.
The company of two on the raft had meanwhile begun to ponder about their hideous situation. Stuck on a drifting piece of wood that Bilbo still disliked, in the middle of a quiet river that flowed way too slowly for Kíli's liking.
"We could always try to paddle", the young dwarf suggested but the hobbit didn't seem impressed.
"Knowing my luck, I'll fall in. Or a large fish'll eat me. You just wait for it", he chuntered, waving his pipe in front of Kíli's face. The youngster tried to dodge the wooden shank before Bilbo could poke his eye out with it.
"I told you I'd pull you out if you fell in."
"And what would you do, if a fish ate me? Hm?", the hobbit inquired, still fiddling with his pipe.
"Catch the fish, eat it and get you out", Kíli bluntly replied and judging from the determined expression on his face, Bilbo did not doubt for a second that the dwarf was sincere about this.
"Eat it?", he asked dryly.
"Sure. Why waste it?", Kíli shrugged.
Bilbo blankly stared at the young dwarf for a while until Kíli began to wonder if he had said anything strange.
"Hopeless", the hobbit finally muttered. "You're hopeless."
The sun was shining bright above their heads, a warm breeze blowing across the river, announcing the first carriers of autumn for the air smelled of wet soil and the chill of the mountains and Bilbo got comfortable on his back, ignoring the protesting youngster by his side. He closed his eyes and dreamt of Bag End and the green slopes of the Shire, dreamt of Tookland and Bywater and The Green Dragon and of Longbottom Leaf and of thirteen dwarves in his Dining Room, throwing his plates around. And he quietly smiled to himself.