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.
44. Best Laid Plans
Everything seemed to freeze as the dagger struck home. A flare of pain in blue eyes, blood bubbling upon sneering lips, and the dead dwarf dropped to the floor in a clatter of metal.
Thorin could barely see as tears streamed from eyes locked with his brother's glassy, dead stare. A shell, finally rid of the dark creature that had made him its own. Was it his imagination, or had he seen a hint of gratitude in Frérin's final moments?
"Uncle?"
A hand was offered and accepted, pulling him to his feet, and Durin's ax was thrust into his grip once more. A mailed hand clapped Therin hard on the shoulder, almost sending him to the ground as Einarr joined them, his scowl giving them a momentary peace.
"Good job, lad!"
"Indeed. You did well, Therin. Worthy of your family, both sides."
The lad flushed, flinching as Einarr whirled around, a mailed fist sending a goblin who had the gall to interrupt them flying.
"Sorry I took so long, but- Look out!"
Thorin ducked as weapons clashed over his head, and he spun, gutting the orc who had tried backstabbing him. Rather than collapse with the death of their leader, the cult and its allies seemed to be in a renewed frenzy.
"Fight now, talk later!"
Bofur barked at them as he appeared, shoving an ax into Therin's startled hands. The councilor did not wait for a reply, turning away with a half heard mutter about Thorin and a penchant for dramatics.
Smashed between two armies, escape cut off, and prey to the deadly rain of elven arrows from above, it soon became a slaughter. It was the type of battle that could easily sicken a young warrior's soul even as veterans grimly reminded themselves that it was necessary with every strike. There would be no redemption or happy ending here. Just blood and grief.
Thorin could never clearly remember the next hour, when foe after foe fell to his blade. As with Anzulbizar, it was a blur of screams, blood and gore, too horrific to lodge clearly in the mind, lest those who survived went mad. Snarling faces, the ring of steel, sparks lighting up eyes as blades struck, sweat stinging the eyes, and the gurgle of a felled opponent choking on their own blood, now just one more obstacle to avoid tripping over on the floor; that was what haunted the king's dreams in the dark hours of the nights afterward. At some point, the ax was wrenched from his hands by a falling foe, and he pulled Orcrist, the blue light of the blade etching a trail through the air and enemy alike. Horrid though it was, the battle was actually going according to plan.
That is, until he found himself on the ground again, dazed from a mace to the head, his three nephews standing guard over his downed form, Orcrist having slipped from his grasp to skitter across the floor somewhere out of sight. Kíli was almost on top of him, with Fíli and Therin beyond, keeping their foes well away. A roar in half intelligible Khuzdul told where Einarr was, the mocking taunts of Bofur joining him to shield above Thorin's head.
The pit of the king's stomach rolled, phantom pain of long ago wounds flaring, though he knew no arrows pierced his body this time. Blinking, he could have sworn he saw the slate grey overcast of a late autumnal sky with the bulk of Erebor looming up, but then it dissolved back into the dusty columns and distant ceiling of Khazad-dûm.
He was about to push his way to his feet with before his horrified gaze, history began to repeat itself. He did not see a foe, but Kíli was down, half laying across Thorin's legs, and the king screamed.
"NO! KILI!"
Why had the boy not evacuated through the escape tunnel when the fighting began? He was in no shape for battle! The king ignored his own dizziness to bend, rolling his nephew. Kili's eyes were closed, face white and beaded with sweat. He needed to be somewhere safe, now!
Looking up, the king watched as a huge, snarling Uruk-hai sent Fíli and Therin crashing into one another, malice in glittering black eyes fixed on the downed king and prince. Weapon too far away to grab quickly enough, Thorin did the only thing he could, even knowing how futile it likely was; he hunched over Kíli, protecting him with his own body.
Was this how Fíli had died? Helplessly trying to stave off attackers from two lifeless bodies?
A sound like a massive, high pitched bell rang out over him, sparks showering down and making him flinch. Risking a glance up, Thorin was horrified to see young Therin with Durin's ax held tightly in two fists, blade entangled with the cruel backward spikes on the Uruk-hai's sword. Unfortunately, that left with Uruk-hai with a free hand while Therin strained to hold off his attacker with two.
Thorin's hand scrambled to find a weapon and prevent the tragedy he knew was about to occur. Searching fingers closed on a handle the wrong shape to be Orcrist, but he blindly thrust anyway, hoping to take the Uruk-hai in the belly.
Life seemed to slow to a crawl, trapping him in the horror unfolding for what felt like hours. Too far behind their foe was a glint of gold and red enameled armor, Fíli roaring as he barreled toward the dark creature threatening his family. The Uruk-hai flexed its huge biceps, pulling the sweat slickened handle of the mithril ax from Therin's hand, making the prince stumble forward, abruptly off balance.
The gleaming mithril blade of Kili's sword slid straight through the rough forged steel worn by the Uruk-hai and into his gut, Thorin twisting the blade with all his might, but it was seconds too late. Even as the brute slumped, triumphant leer turning to shocked pain as black blood poured from his lips, Therin also toppled to the floor, the Uruk-hai's dagger buried to the hilt in his stomach. Pleading eyes, scared and oh, so young, caught at Thorin's, the uncle he had saved twice that day helpless to do anything but hold both his downed boys, praying the healer would arrive in time.
He did not see the foe whose rude club struck the king's head for a third time that day. All he could see was the death of all his dreams in this cruel place known as Khazad-dûm.
How had it come to this, a dread repeat of history that he had sworn would not occur?
*****888*****
Thorin drifted, unable to force himself from the darkness even as voices and other remnants of the waking world intruded.
"...should have been able to escape, but the tunnel..."
"...stomach was punctured. He probably won't survive..."
"Dis can't get here in time, even on an elven steed. We need to-"
"Over here! Therin is-"
Therin was what? Dead? Was that what they were about to say, the owners of the unknown hands that pulled and tugged at him, jostling his aching head? Could they not leave him to his grief? If he had left well enough alone, Therin might still be alive, only exiled! Did they not know of what he had done? No, how could they? Even Dis and Vili had not been told...
Four days earlier…
"Therin?"
Thorin eased himself down next to the younger dwarf, wary of his nephew after the suspicions voiced about his odd disappearance when the patrol they were with fought a troll. The lad did not acknowledge him, body slumped dejectedly, head down, while one hand held a melting cloth wrapped snow pack against the back of his head. He gave every evidence of a foolish youngling sunk deeply into a misery of his own making, not a traitor slyly plotting his next move. The king sighed, resting one hand gently on the boy's shoulder while the silence lengthened, willing to give his nephew the time to speak his mind without being forced. Besides, Thorin had had enough of arguments and accusations at the council meeting he had just finished.
There were those among his councilors who were certain that Therin had already turned his anger into treason, meeting with the cult. They wanted him not only exiled, but at least one had actually called for the death penalty, despite Kili's prior rejection. They looked at the boy and saw only the failings of the line of Durin, not the strength the king was certain was hiding within. It had been a tense meeting, to say the least, Thorin biting back multiple harsh denials, unable to believe that the basically good young dwarf could truly stray that far from the teachings of his parents and hobbit 'uncle'.
Yes, the boy had been angry and foolish, but once his good sense reasserted itself, the king was certain he, like his older brothers before him, would be wallowing in guilt and self-recriminations. Therin just took a bit longer to get that far, much more like Thorin himself then either Fíli or Kíli, who had their mother's more sensitive nature to off-set the Durin pigheadedness. After all, it took almost dying and then actually doing so for him to admit his errors with Bilbo, and that was to an acquaintance turned friend. It was infinitely harder to say such things to those who mattered most, even if they were the most likely to understand and forgive.
"Go 'way."
The mutter finally came after several minutes, bitter and resentful.
"And why would I wish to do that? You are my nephew, and injured, both reasons I should be here."
Of course, that was not quite the whole truth. Dis had all but taken him by the ear, muttering fiercely in Khuzdul about his stupidity and lack of social skills, before pointing him in the direction of her youngest son. Therin, however, did not need to know that, just as Fíli or Kíli had not so many similar times back in the Blue Mountains. Therin was blessed with Dis' cursedly quick mind, for blue eyes came up flashing fire, Durin temper suddenly stoked to white hot temperatures.
"So?" Therin spat out, finally looking him full in the face. "A bump on the head is hardly worth caring about, and I won't be your nephew after court tomorrow! I've heard the rumors- kin wrecking at the least, if not outright banishment! 'Tis the only punishments besides death that would require council approval." Blunt hands curled in the loose black hair, all braids of rank gone, pulling and pounding against his own head in frustration as the snow pack fell to the side, forgotten. "Do you have any idea how many times I've gone over it in my head? Cursed my own stupidity and wished I could have made different choices? All I see in my dreams at night are those bodies, with faces I know! I never meant Kíli to be hurt, but no one will believe me!"
Thorin closed his eyes, heaving out a sigh, unable to deny the truth of that. All anyone saw was the end result- one of their princes captured and tortured, almost killed.
"Aye, that is true enough, but Therin, being kin-wrecked does not instantly dissolve all family ties. Legally, yes, you will no longer be a prince or acknowledged by your mother's line, but emotions do not work in such tidy ways. You will always be my nephew, no matter what you do. And given time, Fíli will realize that being a brother is not so easily given up, either. He is simply too full of Kili's pain right now to acknowledge that truth."
"I was."
Thorin's head shot up in surprise at the quiet words, the blond prince easing himself down beside them, chagrin on his face.
"Therin, I-"Fíli glanced down at his hands, twisting in his lap, then back up. "I allowed my own pain and anger the blind me to what you were experiencing. Bofur rather pointedly reminded me that I was once in a somewhat similar situation, and that I needed to see your side of things, as well. I cannot say that I will easily put this behind, but I do see how you might have made the mistakes that you did. That does not mean that I would ask the council and Kíli to forego punishment, but I did not support banishment. You are my brother."
There were no tears, no words, just a soft exhalation and a young dwarf badly in need of comfort slumping against his kin. Thorin could only hold him, silently apologizing for the neglect he had shown this sensitive dwarf.
"I do not know why any of you would feel that way. I deserve whatever Kíli asks for tomorrow. I know I do. My childishness almost cost Kíli his life. My actions, no one else's, no matter how hard I wished to deny it. I'm angrier at myself now than any of you. I have lost my honor and shamed my family. Apparently, that's all I'm good for."
Finally, Therin was acting the adult that Thorin knew he could be! Relief washed through the king, bringing an almost condescendingly chiding tone to his next words that could have undone everything.
"That isn't true, and you know it, Therin. Yes, you made a bad decision in a worse situation, and must bear the consequences as the adult you now are. But so long as there is life-"
One fist hit the stone floor, stopping the king's words, and he sighed. Every time he saw a spark of maturity in the lad, it was overwhelmed by such childish displays.
"You don't understand, Uncle! I- I almost left this morning! During the battle, I mean. One of the cult grabbed me, pulled me back into the corner and told me I could be their prince… and I almost did it. I almost went with him right then and there, turned my back on everything. I was so tempted!"
That was murmured in a tone of disgusted astonishment, much more reassuring to Thorin than the words themselves.
"What stopped you?"
"Mother and Father… Bilbo." Therin glanced hastily away, blinking rapidly as his body began to rock back and forth slightly. "He used to tell me about the Arkenstone and the final days in the mountain, you know. How he felt that he had no choice, but so deeply regretted it. He always said that sometimes the most honorable path was also the one that was the hardest to tread. That a true hero was one who did not turn away from such choices, no matter the outcome. He took the Arkenstone, knowing it would destroy his friendship with you, maybe even cost his life, because he believed it the only way out. I knew what he would say, if he saw me running from my responsibility, like I had been trying to do. It finally hit me how ashamed he would be, and angry. How I've shamed Mother and Father with my actions. I-I think they're going to separate because of me."
It took several long moments for the king to respond this time, mostly because he was cursing Dain, himself, and everyone else who had contributed to this impossible situation. Fortunately, Fíli was much quicker to lay the blame where it truly was.
"No, Therin, not because of you. Ask Mother, your father, Dwalin, anyone, and they will tell you the same. Dis and Vili were placed in a situation that should never have been asked of them, and if splitting their bond is the best solution, you must respect that, just as Kíli and I do."
Thorin reached out once more as Fíli spoke, rubbing his younger nephew's shoulder reassuringly before clearing his throat roughly. While glad that his eldest and youngest were finally settling their differences, it did not change the facts.
"This is not an accusation, Therin, but I must ask. What else did the cult dwarf say, and how did you respond?"
He saw the flash of resentment and anger that was quickly quelled in the blue eyes, then Therin swallowed hard, nodding, though he would not meet his uncle's eyes.
"I-I couldn't, at first. I didn't know… When I didn't say anything immediately, he grinned and said that of course, I'd have to prove my loyalty. I was so torn inside that I didn't really think, just asked how."
Interesting. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage beyond repairing the damage to his family.
"What did he say?"
"I was to wait for further instructions. It would be easy. They would leave a note and all I needed to do was nod acceptance when I got it. Someone would be watching. Then he hit me on the head with a rock. Maybe it finally knocked some sense into me, because when I woke, all I could see was how stupid I had been, reacting the way I had. I tried to talk with Kíli, apologize, but the healers wouldn't let me in, so I came here."
Therin ruefully touched the knot hidden under his hair with a wince. Thorin nodded, but said nothing. The rock had not precisely knocked sense in as forced emotion out, so that Therin could assess his own actions and responses without the burden of anger and resentment. Odd, how actions so often led to the opposite of what was intended. It was just too bad that someone had not done the same to him when he was speaking to Bard at the gates of Erebor so long ago; it might have prevented much of the current heartache.
Even as that thought crossed his mind, however, another crowded it out, and the king's eyes widened in astonished realization. Thorin knew it was exactly the wrong response to such a heartfelt honesty, that both his sister-sons would likely misinterpret, but he could not help it. The laughter started deep in his core, bubbling up to erupt into a hearty guffaw that had his nephews staring at him in astonishment and rising anger. Therin darted to his feet, face flushed, but Thorin grabbed his wrist, preventing escape.
"Sit, lad, I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at the cult and their supposedly clever leader."
At Therin's confused expression and Fíli's raised eyebrow, the king sobered, tugging his brunette nephew back down to sit next to him once more.
"Let me see if I can explain. Mordor did not encourage independent thought in its followers, Therin. There was but one lord and master, one will – Sauron's; he would tolerate no rival, as Sarumen discovered. But he is gone now, his servants left without new direction to adapt to the altered present, something they are incapable of doing, so they continue the patterns he last set them to. In the case of the one who had been Frérin, it is by applying solutions my brother gave in training to similar situations, expecting that I will also react exactly the same. Do you see?"
"Like a machine made for one purpose!"
Fíli breathed, eyes widening in astonished understanding. Therin, however, tilted his head, still uncertain.
"So they are unable to change without someone outside of them altering their path for them? But Uncle, they aren't mindless machines!"
"That is exactly what those taken by the taint are, Therin. Just as the Ring Wraiths were, only our current enemies still have life outside of Sauron's will, and so did not dissipate with his destruction. Their leader is a machine, mindlessly working in the way he has been made to, walking unheeding toward a single goal with the mere illusion of free will, only changing his path when forced. I, however, am under no such handicap."
Thorin hesitated, assessing the young dwarf next to him before catching Fíli's eye. The blonde gave a slight nod, his battle trained mind running the same questions as Thorin's. Would Therin try to run, pass off responsibility again if given the chance, or would he stand true this time? Dare Thorin trust him? Dare he not?
"Therin, do you truly wish to regain your honor? If you say yes, do as I ask, you must understand that it will be the most difficult thing you have ever done and I can offer no sureties. If you survive, you still may never regain your title, though I can and will support the revocation of the kin-wrecking."
"Uncle..." Fíli sounded reluctant, grimacing when Thorin nodded at him. "Kíli had not intended to ask for kin-wrecking, despite what the council thinks."
Of course he had not. Thorin huffed to himself, shaking his head.
"I will speak with him. It is necessary if we are to convince the cult that Therin is willing to come to their side. If you agree, that is?"
He pinned his youngest nephew with a penetrating stare, watching the flicker of emotions across Therin's face. The silence stretched as the younger dwarf visibly struggled with that, much better than an instant yes or no would have been.
"What must I do?"
Therin had enacted his part of the plan even better than Thorin had dared to hope, playing the part of a resentful, embittered and rejected spoiled young child to the utmost, facing Kíli at the trial with defiance. So well was his act, in fact, that Thorin had almost doubted his nephew's loyalty, mind racing for contingency plans should Therin actually betray them. Between the dramatic court and the council meeting, he had sought out his oldest sister-sons in Kili's sickroom. Told of his doubts, Fíli had expressed similar misgivings, though Kíli had simply given them a small smile and a chiding shake of the head, insisting on proceeding as they had planned before falling into exhausted slumber.
"Perhaps it is that those two are too much alike," Fíli had finally murmured to his uncle, amused. "Kíli can understand him even when I am floundering, but also butts heads with him more readily. Do you truly believe Therin will be able to get close enough to Frérin to kill him?"
"I believe he will keep him close, Fíli. Whether that will prove for good or ill, I do not know. At the very least, however, it will ensure that the cult is aware of our route and the likely ambush spot along it. I only pray to Mahal that Therin has enough sense to safeguard his own life even if he cannot complete his mission."
Fíli snorted, eyeing his uncle in disappointed exasperation.
"You're joking, right? He's a Durin, Uncle. He will throw himself into this with heart and soul, willing to sacrifice everything to show he is worthy of his place in the family, just as Kíli did during the quest. I thought you knew that."
It was only then that Thorin felt his heart sink, the enormity of the mantle he had just laid upon a child's shoulders plain.
"In other words, I am once more the fool; and the murderer. I have sent that child to his death, and your mother will never forgive me. Even if I find a way to forgive myself."
He did not remark on how Fíli had listened to his plans and allowed it, though some part of him wondered if the blonde had truly forgiven his brother. Fíli sighed, leaning against the wall of the sickroom, eyes on the sleeping form of his brother beyond them.
"It was what he needed to do, just as Kíli and I knew we had to go with you to Erebor, even if we did not believe we would survive it. To deny him the choice would have been to treat him as a child once more, and I couldn't do that. If the worst happens, Mother will be angry, and grieve, but she will understand in time and Vili will at least know his son died with honor. Personally, I am more concerned with this council meeting tonight. How do you plan to send out half our army without raising the suspicions of the cult, anyway?"
Thorin smiled, lips thin and nasty.
"That, my dear nephew, is in the hands of Nori and his friends. Let us just say that a few key lords are being quietly reminded of certain ancient dwarrow laws. The cult leader will have no trouble believing the worst of them, just as my brother once did."
"Will you not tell me more?"
Fíli implored softly. Thorin shook his head, one hand resting on the broad shoulder that had aided him through so much, even when too young for such burdens.
"No, I wish your reactions and your brother's to be as genuine as possible. Once they leave, someone I trust outside Khazad-dûm will explain the true plan before the uninformed feel guilty and try to return prematurely."
"You seem awfully certain of their actions, uncle. If you're wrong-"
Thorin's smile turned feral, an image of an enraged Dwalin crossing his mind, axes to hand as he glared at any who dared question his orders. He would give a large sack of gold to witness that conversation.
"I won't be."