Familial Bonds

Camping (With Fili and Kili) Part 3

Thanks celebrisilweth and Knowing Grace for your support!

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Soren blinked groggily as she gradually came to. At first she panicked slightly because she couldn't open her eyes properly, couldn't see. Everything was blurry. But then she realised that they were heavy droplets of water clinging to her lashes and the lids of her eyes. The dwarfling reached up stiffly, her body almost refusing to go through the motions, and roughly brushed the water away with the damp heel of her palm.

Then Soren gradually sat up, trying to ignore the way her head spun and the world tilted crazily around her. The trees seemed to be dancing. Her head ached something fierce and felt like a split melon.

"Fee?" she called softly over a swollen tongue. "Kee?"

Frowning when there was no response Soren gingerly sat back on her haunches and stare around at the forbidding forest that loomed over her. She glanced back at the fast flowing stream and shivered, both from cold and fear.

The rocks underneath her were hard and slippery, and her clothes were wet, clinging to her thin frame. Soren contemplated calling out for her cousins again, but the memory of an orc's snarling face loomed in her mind. She knew she couldn't stay by the water; if anyone or anything was looking for her, it would scout along the banks, presuming her to be dead or otherwise incapacitated. Easy pickings.

She shuddered at the very thought and resolved herself to slowly make it to her feet. Soren rocked onto her knees first and then thrust one leg out in front. She breathed heavily for a good long moment, panting as sweat rolled off her brow. She knew she had to get up, even though her body wanted to do nothing more than sink back down and bask in its misery.

So then she stood, albeit jerkily, and rested for another moment with her hands on her knees until the world stopped whizzing about her head so quickly. But then it passed and she could see and think clearly again, though the pounding in her skull hadn't abated one bit. Then she glanced around and attempted to formulate some plan of some kind. Preferably before she got sick from the cold and damp and died. Or before the orcs traipsed down river and killed her. Or before some wolves hunted her down and ate her… Okay, bad thoughts, not helping.

The stream had obviously joined to the main river at some point, so it made sense that she should follow it against the current until she knew where she was. The bad part about that plan was that the orcs were upriver too. But then, so were Fili and Kili, last she had seen.

Soren glanced at the sky and attempted to form a rough estimate of the time. She thought it to be about late afternoon given the splashes of crimson and orange that was liberally spread across the sky. She tried to remember what she had heard old Oin say that one time… a red sunset – blood has been spilled this day.

The dwarfling shuddered again, and hoped that the blood didn't belong to Fili or Kili. She'd much prefer their blood stay on the inside; where it belonged.

But Soren wasn't too young or too incompetent to know what night time meant. It meant cold, and given that she was soaking wet, that wasn't a comforting thought. Already she could feel a chill in the breeze that swelled about her and it was enough to make her shiver with every second breath. Nights in the mountain were especially cold, and she would have to find some way to stay warm.

Soren was suddenly grateful that Balin had taught her map-reading skills on maps of the locality about their home. The waterfall had been East from their home and if she remembered correctly the main river continued to run almost directly due east. That meant she just had to find the main river, align herself with it, and keep heading due west.

So that was what she did. Stiffly, she walked purposefully a little distance away from the stream, walking against the current. It took quite some time, but then she was back at the main river which, thankfully, was running straight as an arrow west to east. She followed it for another hour or so but by then the light was certainly failing and she was still cold and wet.

There was another long indecisive moment for decision-making. Soren could either stay on the riverbank and hope a search party –and not orcs- came past in the middle of the night, or she could retreat into the woods in search of shelter for it was autumn and the chance of heavy rain and cold winds was high, and either could come unexpectedly. In the end though she was forced to conclude that the forest was a more intelligent plan, but issue of being passed by a search party in the middle of the night was high.

The plan she settled on was so brilliant it almost made her smile, despite the pain, cold and concern she was plagued with; she would make a sign, one not easily missed but not legible to orc-kind.

Soren took out her dagger and scrapped away the rough bark of a tree that could be seen from either side of the river revealing amber coloured skin beneath. Then she set to with the keen tip of the blade, carving in the dwarvish runes. It was hard work and the light was disappearing behind the mountains so she kept it brief. South, night, S. she was tempted to add a small 'help' underneath but her pride wouldn't allow it.

Then she took the bright blue – now saturated – scarf from about her neck and tied it in a way that clearly showed the direction she took, but only to those who knew how to interpret it, like dwarves, say. Kili had taught it to her when she had asked why he always carried a bright blue kerchief about his neck. Kili… Soren allowed herself a moment to briefly chew on her lip and let concern for her cousin flood her. Kili had been right beside her when the orcs attacked and there was every chance that they caught him by surprise. Fili had been alone…

"Please be okay," She whispered to the quiet woods.

Soren shook her head fiercely and strode off in her chosen direction, banishing such thoughts and allowing only her own situation to concern her. It took a good while to come across a place that offered both shelter and a bolt-hole so she could leave quickly if necessary. It was a dry, loamy space beneath a tree that had fallen at one point before miraculously continuing to grow. The space underneath it was dry and fairly open but looked undisturbed for quite some time.

The only problem now was how to get warm…

Soren's thoughts strayed back a few years when Fili and Kili had been trapped out hunting in an unexpected snowstorm. Dis had been out of her mind with worry but the next day they had traipsed back into the house laughing and covered in pine needles and soft bark. They had been pulling the stuff out of obscure places for a week. Turns out they had made an impromptu shelter that had both sheltered them from the snow and kept some of the cold out. Soren didn't know the details but she knew what materials she needed and that she need to make a shelter she could clamber inside of, preferably a small one.

So she ventured outside again, shivering terribly and gathered together short, sturdy sticks that she jammed between the floor, ceiling and walls of the little cave in an effort to make a supporting dome thing. Then she heaped pine needles, long thick layers of bark, wood and leaves against it to form a little hut with a tiny opening. The floor was cold though, so she dragged in some more stuff to sleep on top of, guided only by the light of the moon.

Though she was loath to, Soren knew she had to ditch the wet clothes, so she layed them out and hung what she could off the roots that permeated the ceiling of her little cave. Then she crawled into her shelter in naught but her skin and heaped more pine needles and leaves over her body. Then she shuddered and lay still once more, determined to sleep and live through the night.

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Thorin couldn't believe the way life just seemed to continue for other people as he strode through the middle of the town, a large group of eager and anxious dwarves on his heels. Didn't these people realise that the world was ending? That something so cataclysmic had occurred that the reverberations of it would echo across all of time and space? There was no way people should seem so calm, peaceful and normal. For sure as anything the world would end if Soren wasn't around to enjoy it.

They made good time to Fool's Falls, Fili anxiously treading at the head of the group with Thorin and Dwalin. He looked as though he was about to break into a run at any second, go pelting off in search of his dearest cousin – well, his only cousin, but that's beside the point. But then they were at the Falls and cautiously threading their way through the trees, on the lookout for any indicator that orcs were in the area.

They weren't, but it wasn't hard for the trackers amongst them to pick up the trail of the orcs moving downriver, spread out as though they were searching for something. A part of Thorin's heart shrivelled a little at the thought of what it is they may all find, but he resolutely forced the thought from his mind. That was not the time or place, and knowing Soren she would be perfectly fine; she was resourceful and intelligent, more so than her age led anyone to believe.

The dwarves, all of them battle-ready and eager for orc blood – though every bit as eager to see their prince's only child returned for dwarrow children are precious beyond all measure – so they headed downriver, following the current and, as fate would have it, the orcs.

Eventually the tracks became garbled and a couple of trackers ran further downriver whilst the others scouted the land around them. They came back, saying they had found the trail again, but that it was becoming too dark to follow them any further since the tracks actually led away from the river. Thorin couldn't hold back his snarl of rage and frustration as he received the report, but he reluctantly told the group to settle down for the night. Thorin himself took the watch –since sleep wasn't even a fantasy at that point – and sat diligently with both Fili and Dwalin by his side as the moon gradually wondered overhead.

"Hold on, Little Fox." He said to the world around him, imagining he could see her smirking at him as he gazed at the pale silver disc overhead, the same colour as her eyes. Then he imagined that it was Saram's eye glaring down at him accusingly.

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The day broke sunny and bright – too bright for the tragedy that had brought Thorin to his knees only the day before. He had his companions on their feet before the sun had fully crept over the horizon. Then Thorin had a heavy decision to make, and he had spent the entirety of the night before mulling it over.

"How many orcs do you think?" he asked one of the trackers. The dwarf cast another long look at the marks in the ground before replying.

"Thirteen." Thorin turned to Dwalin with a resigned look in his eye.

"Take three-quarters out group and follow the rakhâs." he spat before turning to Fili and Gloin, Oin and Gloin's young son, Gimli. "We'll keep going down river."

The four of them nodded grimly and followed him without hesitation. Gimli too young to even be out there at all, but Thorin had seen his skill with an axe and knew he was a courageous lad. Even then, he still wanted to keep his eye on him.

About half an hour later of strict force-march Fili gave a sudden, heart-wrenching cry before breaking into a sprint. By the time the other's caught up to him he was smiling almost giddily with relief, a lone tear dancing on his cheek.

"She's alive!" he cried out, as though he had tried ever so hard to believe it and yet just couldn't manage until that moment.

Thorin looked at the scraped tree bark and carved runes with a grim smile, though his heart was still low in his gut.

South, night, S were the runes inscribed. He knew what they meant. She had gone directly south from her position to find a place to stay for the night. Thorin looked at the sky and carefully analysed the weak light that still barely filtered into the mountains. Perhaps she hadn't woken yet and was still making her way toward the river. He knew that she would have carved through the runes if she had returned to the river, or she would at least have removed her scarf.

Thorin took up said scarf in his hands, noting how damp and cold it was. It was almost painful to touch. But he held it to his nose anyway and inhaled, wondering if there was any scent of her left on it, or if the water had washed her particular fragrance from the fabric.

But no, it was still there. Faintly he smelled lavender and sandalwood and he reverently tucked the scarf into his belt.

"We're wasting time here," he said stiffly, moving in the direction they had been directed. None of the others thought to correct him on the fact that it had been Thorin wasting time and not them; that they had just been waiting for the prince. But then, none of them really fancied getting their head lopped off either.

They were only a score of paces into the forest when an orc hunting horn sounded, its cry long, drawn out and menacing.

Against his will Thorin froze in place and only a single sound passed his lips before he was running like a mad man.

"Soren…"

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The orcs head turned towards her and it grinned menacingly, razor-sharp pointed teeth bared for all to see, primed for the ripping and mauling of tender young dwarf flesh. Its companion raised a horn to its mouth and blew long and loud, signalling the hunt. Soren wondered if that was the beckoning call of death. All time seemed to slow and the world seemed to darken and chill.

They had been waiting for her.

They had been waiting all along for her to poke her head out of her little cave, so grateful that she was still alive that she hadn't seen them until one of them had laughed. There were three standing, waiting for her and all wore the same malicious grins – if they could be called that. Soren had no doubt that the horn was to signify the beginning of the hunt, to alert more orcs to the sport.

No, it wasn't enough that they kill her, they had to make a game out of it too.

I'm never going to play tag again, Soren thought as she sprinted through the trees, their cruel branches lashing at her. For the first time in her life she was glad that she was tall and thin for her age and race. It meant she was a fast runner and that the orcs weren't catching up too fast.

Her breath was coming in ragged drags and gasps when a steep, rocky incline loomed out of nowhere. She threw herself up it, heedless of the sharp pieces of shale that sliced her hands and slipped out from under her feet. She clambered up on all fours, finding it nearly impossible to get a grip on the shifting slope.

Soren glanced back only for the briefest of moments and would have fainted right away if she had not been made of sterner stuff. About a score of orcs clustered below and two were quickly pursuing her up the incline, moving faster than she could with their long, spindly, muscular arms and legs. Then she concentrated on climbing, higher, faster.

But her attention was drawn again when she saw her father burst out of the tree line like an maddened, rampaging bear, shouting a war cry that could curdle even orc-blood. Soren's mouth dropped open slightly as he swung his sword in such an almighty arc that it caught an orc in the cut and swept it clean of its feet before the separated body parts tumbled into the shrubbery. His next blow sliced an orc clean in half from shoulder to hip. Then Fili was there too, whirling like a gold and steel tornado with his twin blades. Other dwarves charged in from either end of the clearing and the orcs were caught between…

A scabbed, slimy hand ensnared her boot and dragged her down towards it. Soren let loose a shriek of terror as she dug her hands in to try and stop the sliding. The hand released and she squirmed to get away but then it grabbed onto her belt instead. Sheer terror and an ancestry of proud warrior dwarves pulsed through the dwarfling and she grabbed for the long dagger her father had bequeathed to her.

She rolled and whipped her arm out, sending the dark blade slashing clear across the orcs face. It screeched and reeled backwards before it fell, hands grasping at empty air. Its body sprawled at awkward angles at the base of the incline numerous feet below.

"Soren!" she heard her father bellow, but her gaze was transfixed on the other orc just below her and ascending rapidly. She glanced quickly to the top of the incline but it was clear she would never make it. Soren shifted the weight of the blade in her hand and turned so that her back faced the rocks. She took a deep, steadying breath before she moved.

Using quick, high steps Soren ran down the slope and when she was close enough she dived at the orc which had no place to go in so short a time. It jerked backwards, avoiding the keen point that was angled at its eye and merely got a chest full of dwarven steel instead. It fell backwards like a broken doll and tumbled all the way to the bottom, Soren not far behind it.

Soren had learnt to fall a long time ago. It was inevitable for such an adventurous child. So she tucked her chin into her chest, released the dagger – still buried in the orc – and wrapped her hands protectively over her head. By the time she reached the bottom her body ached, stung and felt like it was liable to kind of just fall apart.

But then her Da's arms were around her and she allowed herself her first sniffle since the nightmare had begun.

"Don't you ever do that again," He growled quietly in her ear, though she knew it was his response to being frightened out of his mind. Soren felt herself being lifted bodily off the ground and wrapped her arms and legs around Thorin's broad form and hung on like a limpet. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and felt his hair tickle her skin like a protective, ebony curtain.

Soren heard the tramp of heavy boots and managed to restrain herself from shivering.

"Looks like your 'Little Fox' has learned to bite, Thorin," Dwalin's comforting voice rumbled, accompanied by a few loud guffaws from about them. There was a thud of a boot hitting flesh and Soren pocked her head out to see one of the dwarves she didn't recognise pulling her knife from the orc corpse after having given it a solid kick.

"More a wolf than a fox, I think," Said the dwarf with a broad, crooked grin that showed dimples. His floppy hat wobbled as he cleaned the blade gingerly before returning in to her with a wink.

"Time to go home, I think," Fili grinned at her as he approached, reaching out a handle to ruffle his little cousin's leaf strewn hair in the way he knew she hated and loved at the same time. "No major injuries anywhere, well, aside from Dwalin getting half his ear bitten off… but everyone else is fine."

"How's Kee?" Soren asked softly as she snuck a glance at Dwalin, who was indeed holding a crimson, wadded cloth to one of his ears. He caught her glance and winked at her to indicate that he was just fine for which she was relieved.

"He's fine too," Fili said with a soft smile. "He took a knock to the head but he's like you; a head like a granite boulder."

"A head like a Durin," Thorin told them, gingerly running a thumb over a cut on Soren's cheek. It must've stung considerably, but she didn't wince or even look at him.

"Must mean your adopted Fee!" Soren chirped in that cheeky, off-hand way she possessed. Thorin felt himself chuckle and Dwalin's bellowing laughter was accompanied by Bofur's and Gimli's sniggering as Fili flushed before poking his tongue out in a decidedly un-prince like way.

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A/N That's all folks! For this rather long 'two' part piece anyway. I was sorely tempted to cut this chapter in half again but I thought that would have just been mean.

So, I hope you liked it, and if you did be sure to follow this story because there's plenty more to come! On that note, I am eternally looking for prompts for this little collection. They can be anything; humorous, tragedy, a random event you'd like to see occur. It doesn't necessarily have to feature Soren per se, she's kind of just my addition to the Durin family.

Thank you ever so much for reading and all that stuff because you are all seriously wonderful, wonderful people!

Please review! Seriously, it makes me day like nothing else in the world! I would love to know what you think! Constructive criticism is certainly more than welcome! (Well, so long as it's 'constructive' and not someone being a total nob!)

If you missed it before, Soren originates from my one-shot 'Everything isn't Everything' which is apparently highly emotional, so go read it if you're wondering where the hell Thorin got a daughter from. (Well, not like where but, ya know…)