The journey from Lake-Town started well enough, until the storm. The skies turned dark and poured buckets of water like a brigade putting out a fire. The fire was the Dwarves excitement to be back upon their journey, for the sudden rain had turned the path to sodden muck. Everyone dismounted and walked to spare the ponies, not that it was safe to ride. Mud clung to the ponies' hooves and the Dwarves' boots, weighting every step. The flattest path was still slippery, with Dwarf and pony alike loosing footing.
They passed by a fresh and ragged crack in the land. It was a ravine created by a flash flood, strong enough to have uprooted trees along its high banks.
The Company steered as far clear of the ravine as they could, for they could tell the ground was soft. But Kili's pony lost his footing and slid, bringing the full weight of its hindquarters into Kili and tossing him into the ravine.
Kili landed at the bottom with a loud crack the other Dwarves heard from above. His brethren rushed to the bank, only to begin slipping in themselves and needing rescue.
Kili caught his breathe and called up, "It was the bow that the people of Lake-Town lent me, not my back, that broke."
They sighed in relief and urged him to climb up. The sides of the ravine were slick and wet, with many roots exposed.
"There's good climbing here!" Kili called up, but the ground gave way under him. Pulling on the roots further weakened the walls, and more mud slid down.
"I can't climb it." Kili called up.
"Wait there. We will toss a rope." Fili instructed.
The Dwarves stood a safe distance back from the ledge and tossed the rope down to Kili. In a flash he had secured himself and called out a "heave-ho" but the rope sunk into the ground and mud again threatened to bury him at the bottom of the ravine.
The Dwarves next tossed the rope over a branch of an oak that was still standing, so that it dangled near the center of the ravine. They thought they could pull Kili straight up and he could swing over to the bank. But the ground under the oak had weakened, and even the weight of Kili was too much. The oak began to sag and sink and threaten to drop, taking Kili with it.
Finally, Thorin bade them halt, "Kili, you shall have to walk until you find better ground. We will follow as close as we can. If for any reason we lose sight of each other, head for the ridge we planned to camp at tonight. Agreed?"
"Yes, Uncle." Kili called up.
"I will slide down and walk with him." offered Fili.
"No," Thorin replied, "You need to mind Kili's pony as well as your own now. If there is trouble from Orc or Elf, it will be up here. Stay where you are needed most." and in a quiet tone for Fili's ears only, "That is how a leader makes choices - with his head. Kili will be fine."
"Should we toss down supplies?" asked Bombur.
"No, he will have a rough enough road, and he won't be down there long. Do you have knife, sword, and water?" Thorin called down.
"Yes." Kili assured them.
"Then get moving!" Thorin snapped, "Same for the rest of you."
(******************************************************)
Kili's slow pace through mud and branches was matched by the muddy trek of the others on higher ground. They sang as they walked, letting Kili know that they were close by, and he answered in kind.
The morning continued in this slow and steady fashion. Kili had hoped he would find a way up by now, but that would not be his luck today. He noticed that the singing was getting fainter and thought that they must be tiring. It grew fainter still, and Kili could no longer tell if the noise was ahead or behind. He decided he should be ahead, as it would be dangerous for them to double back on his account. He had cost them enough time falling down in the first place. He quickened the painful pace.
His feet sunk so deep at times, the mud went over the tops of his boots. He used his sword to cut through branches. He stopped and heard no sound of singing at all. He despaired that his pace was so slow.
He lifted his water skin to quench his thirst and realized too late that it had been pierced in his fall and was empty. He stooped to drink from a puddle in the ravine, and continued to walk.
He encountered a great pile of broken tree trunks and rock, testament to the strength of the flood. He thought it might finally be something high enough to allow him to crawl out of this damp and endless pit. He began to climb the largest trunk, hacking at branches. It was at half-height through this thicket of waste that he realized the branches in front of him were the mud-covered antlers of a mighty stag, caught up with his herd, battered and drowned. The rotten carcasses stretched up the length of the tree.
Kili shouted, "Is anyone there? Can you hear me?"
It was so quiet, it seemed that even the birds had deserted him.
He continued to climb the pile of debris, knowing the tallest portion was still not tall enough to reach the edge of the ravine, but hoping that he would be close enough to be heard. He began to climb over the rotten animals, the stench making him sick. Maggots infested the site, and it chilled him as if a grave had been turned inside out. He called out again when he reached the top, but no one called back. He was still not high enough to climb out of the ravine, or even peek at the flatland. Anyone could be up there, watching him. Anyone but his friends, that is. At least the worst of it was over, he hoped, and began the slow and cautious slide down the other side.
The sun was high in the sky when he finally crawled out of the now shallow ravine - mud covered, thirsty, and exhausted. He pulled off his boots and scooped out the mud with his hands, then laid on his back and stared up at the sunlight through the branches.
"I have your bow." a voice called down from the trees.