Kili clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling the all too familiar sensation of a rope tightening around his wrists. A part of him knew that there was a considerable chance that the rope would do nothing against the Necromancer, and that part of him asked why he suggested being bound in the first place. Perhaps he wished to bring the others some peace of mind, present the illusion that he, that the necromancer, was under control. Perhaps he too wanted to believe that the rope would help, even in the smallest possible way. Maybe it would help him to contain the Necromancer long enough for Kili's friends to get away or … or do what they must. Fili hadn't looked at him as he wrapped the damp elvish rope around his wrist. He had left the reddened cloth where it was, tied gently around Kili's wrists, so that the new binding would not press and irritate the torn flesh left behind by the orcish bonds. Once, after some hesitation, the rope was tied, Fili sighed and looked at his younger brother. His jaw was stiff.
"There." He said flatly. Kili looked at him wondering if he had fallen for the pretence that the rope would help. He doubted it. In fact he was sure Fili wasn't convinced. But, he supposed, Fili would never accept his earlier requests to kill him or leave him behind. The bonds had been the only other thing Kili could think of. He had briefly considered running away with the next nightfall, waiting until everyone had fallen asleep and then slip away into the darkness of the trees and put as much distance between him and the company as he could. But he quickly dismissed that idea, knowing that Fili would follow him, track him down. Besides, his brother was on edge, watching every little movement Kili made, rousing from a light sleep whenever he so much as shifted. Kili would not get far. He just hoped the bonds would make even the slightest difference.
"Thanks." He said, looking down at the rope. It was more carefully made than the orcish rope. Even through the material, he could tell it was softer. He forced a smile at his brother but it disappeared at the stern look on Fili's face. He wasn't happy about this. Kili's eyes fell. He shouldn't have come back. He wished he had died an orc prisoner. It would have been better, he thought. It would have been better than this, this waiting, this fear of hurting his friends, this tension that was building between him and the others. They tried to hide their distrust of him, but all they're smiles were fake and forced. And they kept their distance as best they could, and whenever they did approach they were cautious with their movements and any words were carefully thought over before being spoke. It all made Kili feel awful, like he was a criminal or a monster. He just wanted this to be over.
Midday came, the sun blazing through the trees, though it wasn't that warm. The air was still chilly and the dead leaves still had a thin layer of frost along their edges. They crunched under foot as the company walked over them. They had recently left their small camp, the fire pit still black and slightly smouldering, and now followed the riverbank, a wind blowing towards them. Kili had insisted that he could walk by himself, though he had needed help getting to his feet, his hands, bound behind his back, not helping him balance as he rose. Fili walked close beside him, however, watching every footstep, ready to grab hold of his brother if he should stumble. Something that had happened a few times. Usually Fili and Kili fell easily into step beside one another, keeping up an equal pace without even trying, their legs often moving in sync. But now, Fili had to slow his gait so his brother could keep up with him. Kili kept his gaze in front of him, at the river as it wound right and the trees and cliffs that followed it. The sun picking out the pale skin of his face, highlighting his gaunt features and darkening the circles beneath his eyes. His cracked lips were pulled tightly together as he tried to hide the aching pain that shot through him with each unsteady movement. Although he looked ahead, the scenery reflected dully in his eyes, glazed over as he carefully thought through every step he took.
Thorin walked up ahead, often glancing back over his shoulder to look at his nephews. Through he didn't stare for long. He would look just long enough to make sure Kili was still standing upright and confirm he was still Kili. Then he would look away. He didn't know why, but a part of him could hardly stand to look at his youngest sister-son. There came this strange burning sensation in his gut that he couldn't quite place, not sure of what emotion it belonged to. He was sure, however, that he shouldn't be feeling it at all. He looked away and rolled down the sleeves of his tunic, trying to make a thin barrier against the chill that still clung to the air. He looked ahead of him and as the river widened he realised they would soon run out of riverbank. Soon they would reach the Long Lake and would have to discuss which route would be quickest. Perhaps there would be boats to take them across the water, for walking around it would take many days. Thorin could see the lake, spreading out towards a hazy horizon, the last trees of Mirkwood, which had followed the line of the river, thinning to a stop.
Bilbo was walking beside Bofur, a breeze blowing through the curls of his hair. The breeze was coming off the lake he could see looming towards them, The Long Lake, Bofur had called it. He said that reached right the south side of The Lonely Mountain. With everything that had happened, Bilbo had quite forgotten about Erebor, he doubted he'd thought of the place even once over the last few days. It didn't seem as important as it once had. But as the Long Lake came more clearly into view, its water expanding for what seemed like miles, knowing they were drawing nearer to the mountain – Bilbo supposed it's shape would appear upon the horizon before long – he found himself thinking about it again, or their journey, at least. He hoped the mountain would be worth it, that Smaug could be defeated and the kingdom reclaimed, or else their travels and the suffering that had been brought upon them would have been in vain. He felt it all warranted some sort of recompense. Before long, he was roused from his thoughts when he collided into the back of Fili, who had come to a sudden stop. The blonde prince glared at him from over his shoulder, a look that said you're lucky you didn't walk into Kili. Bilbo supposed he was right. Even a little, if accidental, shove would have thrown the youngest Durin off balance. Once Fili turned away from him, wrapping a hand around his brother's elbow, Bilbo looked to see why everyone had stopped.
There was a man, stood on the edge of the water, facing away from them. He had dark hair that grazed his shoulders and a long, tattered brown coat that looked like it had seen better days. A bow and arrows were strapped across his back. He was bent over, inspecting some of the barrels the company had used to escape from the Elves. He ran a finger over a hole, left behind by the arrow he toyed with in his free hand, his fingers unconsciously running over the fletching. Beyond him, a barge floated in the shallows of the water, more barrels piled onto it. Balin, who was stood beside Thorin, cleared his throat. The man immediately straightened up and span around to look at them, the harsh look on his face turning into one of slight surprise as his grey eyes fell upon the company, but he said nothing. After receiving a nudge from his brother, Balin stepped forward, clearing his throat again.
"Excuse me," he said politely, "you're from Laketown, if I'm not mistaken? That barge over there," the man glanced over his shoulder at the vessel bobbing softly in the water, "it wouldn't be for hire would it?" The man stared at him, his eyes narrowed.
"What makes you think I would help you?" He said dryly, turning back to the barrels.
"Those boots have seen better days, and that coat." Balin noted, looking at the frayed edges of the man's coat and the way the mud coating the leather of his boots seemed to had become a part of the boots themselves, cracking slightly at the ankles. "No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many?"
"A boy and two girls." He rolled one of the wooden drums onto the barge and lining it up beside the others.
"And your wife," Balin smiled, "I bet she's a beauty." The man paused, curling his fingers around the edge of the barrel. He looked at the water, the gentle waves of the current reflecting the sunlight and making it bounce and glimmer.
"Aye." He said, voice soft. "She was." At this Balin's head dipped, his eyes falling towards the ground, as his posture slumped. He inwardly flinched, scolding himself. Behind him, the company all shifted uncomfortably and the man turned to face them, his features solemn. Balin sighed.
"I'm sorry," he said apologetically, his voice soft and sympathetic, "I didn't mean too." Before anymore words could be exchanged, Dwalin growled, his eyes hard as he stared at the man.
"Enough of the niceties." He said, arms crossed over his chest.
"What's you're hurry?" The man asked, staring at him quizzically, eyebrows pulled together.
"What's it to you?" Dwalin snapped back. Balin spun around to glare at him, impatient with his brother's temper. They needed this man to help them, making him angry was more likely to make him sail away on his barge, leaving them behind on the riverbank.
"I would like to know who you are, and what you're doing in these lands." Balin turned back to the man, who had taken a step towards him. His posture had straightened. The old dwarf smiled at him.
"We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron hills." He said. The man didn't look convinced and looked towards the barrels and all the nicks and holes in the wood then back towards the company. He studied each of them in turn, gaze lingering on Kili. His eyes narrowed.
"What about him?" He asked, motioning his head towards the young dwarf. "Is he dangerous?" Balin turned his head to look at Kili, who was stood unsteadily leaning on his brother. His dark eyes uncertain and tired.
"No." Balin lied, smiling and looking back towards the man, whose eyebrows were raised skeptically.
"Then explain why he is bound." He demanded harshly. For some moments, nobody spoke and the man began to get irritated with their silence.
"My nephew," Thorin said moving forward, Balin eyed him as he moved passed, silently warning him to be careful with what he said. "He's sick."
"Sick?"
"Aye." Thorin paused for a moment. "He was taken captive by orcs and kept as their prisoner for two weeks. They hurt him, tortured him. We have him back now but a terrible fever has began to take hold of him. Sometimes it makes him ... It causes him delusions. Sometimes he does not see us as friends and family, but as the orcs that caused him so much pain and he tried to defend himself, lashes out. That is why we need to get to lake town, to find something to help him, or else we fear he may..." The man looked passed Thorin at Kili, at his pale skin and sunken eyes, at his gaunt frame and unsteady posture. It was true, he looked very unwell. Thorin looked at the man pleadingly. "Please, he's just a boy."
"You say you have children, well he is little more than a child himself." Balin said, his voice somber and beseeching. "Please." The man's posture softened and he released a breath.
"Alright," he said, "I will help you. But only because I will not leave a youngster to die on the riverbank, not with winter approaching." At this both Balin and Thorin breathed sighs of relief, their shoulders relaxing. Thorin turned to look at his nephews, seeing Fili whisper the words 'you're going to be alright,' into Kili's ear and pulling his little brother closer. Kili smiled weakly.
"Thank you." Balin said, bowing his head gratefully. "What name do we call you?"
"Bard. My name is Bard."
The barge floated down the last of the river, being pulled gently by the current, before entering the Long Lake, which seemed to span for miles in all directions. A mist rolled over the water, quickly swallowing up the boat. Bard, however, didn't seem to have any trouble navigating. The mist may as well not have been there. The dwarves were scattered around the barge, some stood leaning against the sides, straining their eyes to see through the fog. The rest were sat in small groups, huddling against the sides of the boat to avoid the cold wind that had began to blow. But Kili still shivered violently, his bound wrists meaning he couldn't wrap his arms around his pulled up knees. Fili sat close beside him, his shoulder touching that of his brother's, he could feel each of Kili's shudders. He wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. Despite only wearing a vest, Fili wasn't particularly cold. He burnt like a furnace, that's what his mother always said.
"How long do you think it will take to get to Laketown?" He heard Kili ask, voice trembling.
"I'm not sure," he shrugged, "a few hours perhaps." Kili stiffened as a cold gust blew along the deck of the barge. Fili rubbed his shoulders in an attempt to warm him quickly back up. After a few moments, the palms of Fili's hands becoming hot, Kili relaxed again. The pair were silent for some time, simply sitting and feeling the rocking of the barge. Somewhere through the mist a bird called out, unable to see the creature, it was difficult to determine which direction it was coming from. After a few moments, Fili heard footsteps approaching, boots heavy against the wood of the deck. He looked up to see Bard walking towards them, a large piece of fabric – which Fili determined to be a blanket – folded up in his arms.
"You brother looks cold." Bard said, genuine concern in his voice, "I thought perhaps you could use this."
"Thank you." Fili said gratefully, smiling at the man's kindness. He took the blanket from him. Bard stared down at them, his brows pulled together slightly.
"Why would the orcs take him prisoner and torture him," He enquired, "if he's just a dwarf lad?"
"Because orcs are twisted." Fili hissed back, eyes burning with hatred for those vile creatures. "Hurting others brings them pleasure." Nothing more was said, Bard simply nodded, understanding that this was a topic the blonde wanted to avoid, and walked away to continue steering the barge through the mist. Fili watched him go and then shuffled closer to Kili, wrapping the blanket around them both, hoping his warmth would add to that provided by the thick material. It was a scratchy brown fabric, the edges worn and frayed, a hole had been sown over with a green patch. But ragged or not, the blanket would keep his brother warm as the air got colder and the water became icy. Kili leaned his head on his shoulder and quickly fell asleep. Fili sighed and rested his chin atop his brother's head, feeling Kili relax against him. Then he too allowed himself to drift off.
-AN-
Not as long as a chapter this time, but yay! Bard is here! And the company is on their way to getting the help Kili needs, let's hope they find it.
A few few of you asked how the bomds would help against the Necromancer because he seems to be so powerful, and I compl see where you're coming from, but I hope I explain it a bit, (I would have personally replied to your comments but my internet has been playing up because of all the bad weather we've been having) but if you have any more questions please ask :)
and as usual, faves, follows and reviews are appreciated
