Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.
Guest- Thank you very much for your review, and all I can say is, hold on…
31. The Lost One
"Not-" Bofur bit off his words, swallowing hard. "Are you certain? Maybe the remains were simply mixed up."
"I checked all of them, Bofur. None are him. Ori broke his arm when little more than a baby. It would have left a permanent mark on the bone where it healed, easily distinguishable."
That was true enough, Thorin knew. Very few dwarrow broke bones, even in childhood, as their skeletons were so heavy.
"You believe that our mystery thief might actually be Ori?"
The king raised a skeptical eyebrow at the other dwarf, earning a huff of annoyance in return.
"All I know is that Balin told Dori and me that he would send Ori into hiding if anything were to go wrong. He wouldn't tell us what he feared, only that he had instructed my brother as to the safest places within the city, and that if the worst occurred, we were to come for him. Only when the colony stopped sending word, Dain refused to allow anyone to go."
"Aye," Dwalin broke in darkly, "I asked him, too. He flat out refused to say what he feared, only that I was to stay in Erebor, and close to Dain. Our dear royal cousin then forbid me from setting foot out the gate, said Balin most likely judged the lands between here and Erebor as too dangerous to send a messenger! Had I the slightest hint my thickheaded brother suspected the cult-"
"You most likely would have died, too!" Fíli snapped, blue eyes flashing an icy warning. "Which is exactly what will happen to my brother if we continue to stand around talking instead of finding him!"
Twisting, Thorin was quick to put a hand on Fíli's chest, stopping any attempt to enter.
"Not you. Bofur, Frodo, Kifir! Stay with Fíli out here!"
The prince's eyes flashed angrily once again as he tried to push the king's arm aside.
"Kíli might be in there!"
A fast sidestep, however, placed Thorin's entire body between his nephew and the doorway. This was one fight that the king had no intention of losing.
"That is exactly why I don't want you going in. Stay here and help keep watch. Please, Fíli."
Perhaps it was the rarity of Thorin Oakenshield using the word 'please', but the blonde nodded, reluctantly taking a single step back. Bofur instantly slung a brotherly arm around his prince's shoulders, drawing him a bit further away. This allowed Thorin just enough room to shoot out a hand and grab his other nephew in a much harsher grip.
"No, you go in. Now."
With a push, Thorin sent the pale Therin ahead of him through the monstrous doorway, right on the heels of those bearing the lantern poles. He had seen a victim of stone vipers once before, long ago as the ragtag groups of refugees travelled through Dunland. The serpent's bite had literally begun to dissolve the flesh around the wound, blood pouring out. It had been enough to make a hardened warrior feel faint, so it was not surprising that the boy immediately hit his knees, heaving. It did not help that Thorin had forgotten to account for the effects of time and the rats, as well.
The sight was truly horrific, and one that the king wished he did not have to subject anyone to, let alone his own blood, but he also knew that this might be the only way that Therin would fully understand the consequences of his actions. Much as Thorin had been forced to grow up in the space of a few hours as the dragon took his home and kin, so must Therin face a brutal rite of passage if there was to be any hope of salvaging a prince from this disaster.
More than one of the other warriors were also clearly fighting rising nausea once more. Tauriel returned out to the corridor and Fíli after a whispered word from a pale, grim Legolas, who was actually kneeling next to one of the corpses.
"None of these could possibly be Kíli. They are a week or more old."
There was more than one whispered prayer to Mahal at that, even though it meant that they had found the rest of the missing patrol. At least the fact that they no longer had heads made them barely recognizable as formerly dwarrow, easing the sight a little. Silence fell then, only to be broken by the soft whisper of stone moving coming from the far corner of the room. Dwalin instantly swung his lantern around, aiming the light just in time for them to catch sight of a short figure standing there. There was an undignified squawk, and the intruder turned to run before Thorin could see more than filth and rags with wide, startled eyes shining. No goblin Thorin had ever encountered moved like that, either.
"Follow him!"
The king barked, and somehow Legolas was able to cross the space quickly enough to prevent the crude door from swinging shut behind the fleeing figure. Their missing members were into the room at the yell, those closer to the hidden door leading the way as Thorin hauled Therin to his feet and thrust him after them.
This corridor was narrow and winding, branching off several times, but a scrap of cloth disappearing around a corner or the sound of fleeing footsteps always led them on. Finally, they stumbled out into what looked to be a natural cave once again, but that had clearly been modified. It contained only one exit, but there was no sign of their query. Two columns bracketed a doorway shaped like a giant viper's head, its mouth gaping open to swallow those entering. On either side, in front of the columns, were statues, twisted and sneering in hatred at those foolish enough to dare their gaze.
They were not recognizable as any creature upon Middle Earth that Thorin was familiar with; orc faces sneered from heads topped with bat ears, and massive wings curved out from their backs, jagged claws held at the ready. Unlike the previous carvings by the cult, these also looked as if they were ready to come alive at any moment, leaping upon those foolish enough to dare passing beneath their watchful gaze. Thorin stopped dead, finding himself literally unable to force his feet to take another step forward.
"We lost him!"
Bofur's lament came from behind, breaking the stillness of the room and making Thorin flinch, but the creatures did not move from their spots as eternal sentinels. Within the king, a war raged as he told himself that it was the height of stupidity to fear stone even as something deep within screamed a silent warning, memories was more fighting to pull him from the present. These things were a danger beyond any he had previously encountered, striking fear even into the soul of Durin.
It was Frodo who finally broke through the king's paralysis, a whisper almost in his ear forcing Thorin's attention fully to the present. He started to put out an arm to block the hobbit from attempting to move past him when Frodo's words made the king catch his breath in sudden hope.
"I remember these…" The hobbit swallowed, face pale as his eyes remained fixed on the stone creatures. "I remember something like these… after Sam rescued me from the tower. Guardians of the gates. I know how to break their spell!"
Fishing in his cloak, Frodo withdrew a delicate glass vile that seemed to shine with its own inner light. Holding it up, the hobbit stepped forward fearlessly, Thorin edging after though every footfall was harder than the last.
"Elbereth! In the name of Elbereth, let us pass!"
There was a scream unlike anything Thorin had ever heard, doubling him over as he clutched at his head, desperate to stop the torment. Tears blurred his vision, but he was able to see the others doing the same as he staggered, trying to force his way to Fíli's side. The prince looked to be on the verge of collapse when Thorin grabbed him, physically wrapping himself around his ailing nephew though he doubted it would do much good. The elves were both already on the floor, unmoving.
Someone staggered into him and Faramir's face was thrust into his, lips moving urgently though the king could not hear him. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the involuntary tears from his eyes long enough to read the prince's lips, but the only word he caught was 'door.' Then the sound of a tremendous double explosion filled the room, sending those remaining on their feet to the floor.
Fíli and Thorin went down together, the younger dwarf still beneath him, as flying rock ricocheted around them, several pieces bouncing forcefully off the back of Thorin's armor. He grunted under the impact, arms shaking as he fought to keep himself on his hands and knees so as not to crush his nephew's already damaged ribs. It took several minutes of silence before any of the forms huddled on the floor stirred, forcing themselves to their feet.
"Everyone in one piece?"
Dwalin's words sounded far away and oddly distorted to the king as he and Fíli aided one another to their feet. Looking sternly at the younger dwarf, he gained a hesitant nod, despite a bleeding cut bisecting one blonde eyebrow. Irritably, the prince swiped the blood out of his eye before locking his gaze on his uncle's arm.
"Thorin!"
The king looked stupidly at the shard of black obsidian sticking straight out of his arm just above the elbow, as if used on the tip of a spear. When had that happened? Grimacing, he took a step back to brace himself against the wall as Senata grabbed at his wounded arm. From under his feet came the distinct crunch of bone, making the king move hastily only to have another one roll under him, threatening to send him to the ground. A raised lamp revealed piles of bone discarded against the walls, making someone moan in despair.
"Einarr, Baldur, keep watch! That noise might have alerted someone!"
Thorin kept his eyes locked on Dwalin as the other warrior began to poke through one of the piles with his ax, steadfastly ignoring the healer next to him.
"Men, dwarrow, this one is a goblin."
Dwalin held up a bone before pitching it away in disgust, lifting a skull next. Thorin almost missed his next words as the shard of rock came free of his arm with a sickening squelch, the wave of pain making his knees wobble alarmingly.
"Elf, this one; not sure about this…"
It was a remarkably intact skeleton, Thorin noted, and showed the obvious marks of having been chewed on by rats. Faramir knelt next to Dwalin, picking up a bone to hold it to the light. It was carved and colored in black and dark red, strange symbols standing out despite the abuse it had suffered. The man snorted, as if some theory of his had been confirmed.
"Southerner, probably from beyond Harad. They wear these bones through their nose as decoration."
"How do you know it belonged to him?"
Thorin found himself asking, latching onto the words of the man as a way to ignore the needle putting yet more stitches into his flesh.
"See the slope of the forehead, where the skull has been flattened?" The tall prince picked up the item, turning it in gloved hands to point out what he meant. "They tie their babies' heads between two boards to force the forehead back like that. It's supposed to be a mark of beauty and the Dark Lord's favor."
"How could anyone due such a thing to a child?"
Frodo asked, staring at the skull in horrified fascination. The glass vile that had broken the power of the statues was still held loosely in one hand, forgotten. Faramir stood, dusting off his knees after setting down the skull.
"It is a harsh land, my friend. Long has it been dominated by Mordor."
"Oiy!"
Bofur's yell jerked them all around to see a figure in rags in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the crumbled statues. A long piece of fabric wound over the nose and mouth, then around the head, hiding any other facial features. The stranger had now moved to stare at Bofur, one hand starting to come up, but whether to touch the dwarf or to pull away his hood, they would never know. Fíli pushed forward from where he and Thorin were shielded by the sturdy forms of Dwalin and Einarr. The figure started, some indefinable emotion flickering in his eyes as he stared at the blonde prince, body tensed as if to run.
"Please…" Fíli kept his voice gentle as he held out empty hands towards their visitor. "I won't hurt you. I only seek help. My brother was taken by the cult-"
Nori's hand landed on the blonde's shoulder, squeezing gently as he moved his prince to one side, facing the other squarely.
"Ori."