Date: TA 2879
Thorin: 133 years old
Lina: 130 years old
The warriors of the trading group stretched out around a bright fire, laughing and talking. Laughter roared up from the gathering as Kira related yet another tale of her last goblin hunt. The scarred female acted out each of her characters, giving the goblin as horrid squeaky voice and a brain no bigger than a dust mote. She, of course, characterized herself like Dwalin did in his own stories: as the mighty and fearless warrior with the best looks and finest beard in the world.
Her antics drew laughter from even Lina. The line breaker looked over at her nephew perched on a stump beside her. His eyes were wide with fascination. Never before had Fili seen his mentor like this. Nor had he seen any of the older dwarves like this before. Most of them were so serious even when among friends. Kira had always been the most relaxed of any dwarf while she was within the city, but even she did not act as she wished in the presence of others. Not all the dwarves now in Thorin's following would understand the camaraderie the group shared. These dwarves frowned upon Kira and her friends as if they were young children to be scolded. None of the "respectable" dwarves of Belegost knew the hurt these older warriors were hiding. It was only when they were travelling for one purpose or another that they felt free to express themselves.
When the laughter had begun to die back, they all turned to the youngest member of their company. Fili still looked surprised by what he had seen and heard. His blue eyes were as wet as the others' from laughter, yet all could see the question on his lips.
"What is it, youngling?" Dwalin asked, still snickering.
"Why are you so serious at home, but not now?" His blue eyes landed on each dwarf, ending with his aunt.
"How much has anyone told you about the War of the Dwarves and Orcs?" Lina asked. She knew Thorin had made mention of it on occasion, but she didn't think he'd come even close to telling his nephew all of it. For too many of them, Thorin included, the War was still raw and painful.
"Only a little," the young dwarf admitted.
"I think it's time you knew the full story then," Lina answered. The other dwarves nodded in agreement.
"Many years ago, long before you were born, our people were forced to flee our homeland because of the dragon Smaug. Of him you have heard a great deal, I am sure. However, his coming left us without a home. Many of us followed King Thror into exile, always searching for a new home," Lina paused. She pointed out the dwarves who had fled Erebor. Dwalin had been just a youngling when the dragon came, though he like the others remembered the flames. Most had not been born until just after the coming of Smaug. Of the group, only three had lived in Erebor, Lina among them.
"On the road and without hope, King Thror travelled to the Mines of Moria in the hopes of reclaiming them for our people. There he met a foul creature, the likes of which has not been seen on Middle-Earth for generations, Azog the Defiler." The name was spat out as it had been many years earlier. The dwarves old enough to remember the name of the pale orc added their own sounds of disgust and derision. All of the dwarves in the group were of an age to remember the King's murder, with the exception of Fili.
"King Thrain took the throne and declared war upon the orcs, determined to avenge his father and retake our halls. Because of the insult Azog had given our people, all dwarves called upon for aid answered. The war last nearly ten years. Many orcs and their strongholds fell before the might of the dwarven armies. Soon Azog drew his forces back to Moria and we prepared for a final assault on the eastern gate." Lina looked around the group. They all remembered that assault.
"We were all young then," Dwalin said softly, picking up the tale. "My cousin, Gloin, was barely sixteen when he went into battle with us. We won the battle, Azog was destroyed, and the orc hordes fled Moria."
Fili looked confused.
"If you won, then why do we not inhabit Moria instead of Belegost?"
Kira looked up, the fire light catching on her disfigured face. The bitter and angry tears at the memories had begun to streak down her cheeks, highlighting her scars as the tears flowed into them.
"Because we were too few." Kira clenched her shaking hands into fists as she remembered those she'd lost.
Tears had appeared on the faces of the other warriors who remembered that day. The sight of the dead returned.
"Our strength was cut in half," Lina answered slowly. "We all lost someone that day. Our sisters, our fathers, our brothers, and our friends fell on that field to never rise again. Those of us who survived were left without even the means to properly bury our dead."
"My father was among the burned ones," Dwalin said softly.
"My sister," added Kira.
"My brother," one of the warriors put in.
"My uncle," said another.
Lina was the only one who had not lost a relative on the field, but she had lost her best friend.
"We laugh when we can," Kira said, answering Fili's earlier question. "The dwarves in Belegost do not know what we went through that day. They look down on us for trying to hide the pain, to forget the loss, because they do not understand. For them, the Battle of Azanulbizar is a source of pride, to say that one relative or another fought and died there. Yet they are so far removed from it."
She went silent as a rarely seen anger began to creep into her voice. Lina laid a careful hand on her friend's arm to still the building rage.
"When we are among other warriors, they understand. We do not have to pretend any longer." Lina turned to look at Fili.
The youngling nodded his understanding. Thorin had never told him how many had died in the war. Never had Fili realized just how many of the dwarves he looked up to had been hurt in that war.
"No use wallowing in past misery," Dwalin finally announced his voice a bit harsh with sorrows. He cleared his throat and began a rousing song that they all joined, eager to leave behind their sorrows.
Later that night, as the fire died down, Lina took the first watch. Her companions settled down to sleep around the coals of their fire. The merchants had long since gone to bed around their own fire. The guard on duty for their little circle was Kira. The warriors were taking turns watching over the merchants.
Watching the darkness gave Lina the chance to think. Fili had gotten just the merest hint of what all the dwarven survivors carried in their hearts. He did not understand that sort of pain, and she hoped he never would.
A foul odor appeared on the wind. Lina caught it and shot a look at Kira. Her friend had smelled it as well. The odor grew stronger as something began moving in the brush. Lina brought up her hammer and nudged Fili awake. The finger over her lips kept him absolutely silent before she motioned for him to wake the others.
Dwalin was beside her in an instant. His weapons were at the ready.
"What is it?" he hissed.
"Not sure, but it smells foul, like goblin, and is far too close to use for me to be comfortable," Lina murmured back.
"Get the merchants up and ready to move," Dwalin order Fili and one of the other dwarves. As they did so, the rest of the warriors formed a tight ring around the camp. Whatever was in the brush had stopped just at the edge of the camp. The light from smoldering fires caught eerily in its eyes, but did not reveal its nature.
Kira bared her teeth and growled at the creature. It merely stood quietly, watching them for a moment longer, before vanishing into the brush once more.
"We do not stop until we reach a town in the Hills of Evendim," Lina informed Dwalin. "I don't want whatever that was catching us out again. It didn't do anything tonight, but it was far more intelligent than any mere animal. It knew we'd smelled it and it simply watched us. I don't trust it."
"Agreed." The dwarves moved out the moment the last of their belongings had been gathered. Lina and Kira moved at the head of the column. Dwalin and his cousin Gloin brought up the rear, guarding their backs. The rest of the warriors spread out along the length of the column, keeping an eye and an ear out for whatever the creature had been.