Fíli was waiting for her when Clove and Hallur finally reached Erebor's gates. Waiting with impatience, she surmised by the clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, and clipped tones he used addressing another dwarf. As Clove watched, shivering uncontrollably, the dwarf – Hlevari, she put name to him with difficulty – darted down a hallway towards the Third Hall.
"Hallur," Fíli greeted in a tight voice. "Any news?"
At Clove's sudden sneeze, Fíli's eyes flared. A second later, she was curled up in his arms as he strode towards the nearest set of stairs.
"Hallur?" Fíli prodded with a bite to his voice.
"Found proof the brownies followed the orcs, aye we did, my prince, but 'tis difficult to find any tracks."
Fíli nodded shortly. In a low voice, he hissed, "What were you thinking, Clove? You are freezing. Again."
She almost snarled back, but she clamped her lips tight on the words, recognizing the worry for what it was. "Pepper is my sister, Fíli," she said at last, cuddling into him.
He halted. Sighed. One hand rubbed across her back. Then with a suddenness that stunned her, his lips swooped down to claim hers in a rough, poignant, and scorching kiss. Then as Clove fingered her lips with wonder, he grunted, "Next time, warn me."
"I thought you'd try to stop me," she said. A slow grin spread across her lips. Fíli had kissed her! She wriggled her toes in delight and snuggled into his embrace.
"Aye, I would," he snapped. Pale eyes glared down at her. "I mean it, Clove. Tell me before you sneak off next time."
But then it wouldn't be sneaking off, would it? She swallowed a snicker. "Yes, Fíli," she said.
He eyed her suspiciously. "That was too easy."
"You kissed me," she proclaimed with glee.
His blond mustache twitched and his eyes heated. A second later, she was being kissed breathless.
OoOoOo
In the formless space of her mind, all Cicely knew was peace. Warmth. Drifting without thought, she detected strong arms and a deep voice singing softly to her as she was rocked.
Safety. What was safety? It was outside her experience. Yearning for more of the sensation, she tried to swim nearer to the source, but found to do so threatened the lassitude surrounding her. An icy ache threatened to take hold, disturbing her peace.
To draw nearer to that warm feeling, she'd have to risk the pain, something she wasn't certain she wished to entertain. She'd had enough pain in her life, thank you very much.
But the masculine voice stopped singing and began to hum. The lure drew her like the moth to the flame, one small step at a time.
OoOoOo
Pepper could not remember ever being so cold. Glancing at the sky through the white-laden branches of the silent forest they'd entered at sunrise, she hugged her arms to her chest, tucking hands into her armpits. The bright orb of a sun she'd enjoyed this past year suddenly felt more like Faerie's dull ball of blue.
She couldn't stop shivering, and worse, the cold was having another effect neither brownie had anticipated. Both had been forced to seek a bush to relieve her bladder more than once, exposing her nether region to the freezing temperatures and losing precious body heat in the process. Thirst was now a constant companion, a nagging need she didn't know what to do about. They could scarcely go hunting for a river, and Pepper was leery about ingesting snow. Would that not cost them more precious warmth?
The two brownies had burned through the remainder of their yarn the night before, creating mittens and scarves for around their heads and ears. Pepper's teeth chattered behind her red scarf as she returned to her immediate task. She fumbled to remove her mittens so that she could wrap stiff fingers about her scissors and snip a lock of her hair. She quickly tangled it upon the skeletal branches of a sapling. Brittle twigs snapped off as her uncoordinated hands refused to steady. "I r-really, really, really h-hate winter," she whispered.
Winter was evil. Why no one had seen it banished, she couldn't fathom. They had wizards here – she'd heard Ríkin mutter about one on more than one occasion – so what were the wizards doing that they neglected so terrible a thing?
Salt, she decided with a spurt of vengeful indignation. If any wizard deigned to show up at her table, he'd find his meal overflowing with salt.
Once the lock of hair was in place, she shoved her hands back into the mittens, curled them before her lips and blew heat onto them. Then returning her hands to her armpits, she hurried to catch up with Hyssop. At least the wind had died. It was little comfort, but she'd take what she could get.
The orcs appeared bent upon putting distance between themselves and the mountain. They loped between the trees, keeping beneath the thickest boughs with no signs of flagging. It had been a chore not to fall too far behind them.
Had the dwarves discovered Bofur missing yet? Had Bifur survived? Hurry up, Ríkin. Fear tried to claim her, and Pepper found herself reverting to what she thought of as her Faerie-self. In Faerie, one did as she must, accepted the price to her soul and body, and did her best to find joy even in the midst of pain. Oh, but it was hard. A year of safety and warmth made danger feel all the more sharp.
Hyssop fell. Before Pepper could wade through the snow to her side, the younger brownie regained her feet, her chin at a stubborn angle.
"They…have to stop…sometime," Pepper said, hugging her coat to her while her teeth chattered beyond her control.
"One would…think…they were…dwarves," Hyssop panted as she sped up.
Pepper tried to match Hyssop's new pace, snickering weakly. "Though they're…not… nearly…as nice to look upon."
Hyssop huffed in a laugh, a twinkle in her eyes. The sight relieved Pepper, for both of them were in a precarious position, and she knew it. A brownie could be away from all place for a time, but not forever. Stressful situations only exacerbated things, shortening that window of leeway. Pepper could feel the sinuous fingers of temptation tantalizing the edges of her mind. For some, Withdrawing began with music, a beloved tune playing in the back of her mind. For others, voices long gone returned. For Pepper, it was scent: her mother's floral hair rinse or the salty ocean aroma that seemed to linger around Tien no matter how long the selkie had been away from the sea. More than once, she found herself looking around for them, she smelled them so keenly, but then she'd remember. They were worlds away.
If Pepper was struggling, she knew her companion had to be, too. Even as a part of her ached with loss and anger at what this might cost, Pepper was grateful for Hyssop's company. Rescuing Bofur with two of them would be difficult enough. She wasn't sure it was possible at all with only one.
"Have you…told your Ríkin…about brownies?" Hyssop asked as she paused to cup hands around her mouth and blow warmth into them.
Pepper swatted a loose hair from her face, brow pursed. "What do you mean?" she panted as she slipped on a slick of ice, arms flailing for balance. Oh, how she hated this winter business.
"About your children," Hyssop said as if she were a dunderhead.
Pepper paused. Thought. Blinked. "No. I don't believe we've had that discussion."
Hyssop hooted.
"We haven't had time to talk," Pepper said defensively. "Besides, why would he mind? His sons will be dwarves."
"But his daughters will be brownies," Hyssop said, her voice turning bitter. "Weak."
Weak. Was that what Hyssop thought? Hyssop's voice said weak, but her tone said another word altogether: useless. Cicely, you wretch. What has your tongue done to your daughter?
Pursing her lips, Pepper forced her feet to keep going forward, the scent of the sea increasing in her nostrils. All-Father strengthen us. It was a warning sign. Pepper recognized that, but she gleaned comfort from it regardless. It was as if Tien or one of her brothers walked at her side.
A thought struck her as she replayed Hyssop's words. Weak. Hyssop, she thought, had been hanging around the wrong brownies back in Faerie. Pepper tried to nibble on her lower lip, wincing to find it chapped raw as she turned her back on the orcs and brought the Lonely Mountain into view.
Who knew how far the dwarves were behind them? She craned her head to eye Hyssop, and a sly smile curved her lips. It was time Hyssop was taught how weak a riled brownie truly was.
Perhaps, if Ríkin was lucky, there'd be something left of the orcs when he caught up.
Almost giddy with mischief, she sang, "Hey, Hyssop? You ever play Hide the Treasure?"
OoOoOo
Ríkin jogged through the silent forest with forced stoicism, his hale eye never still. He'd not miss any of the signs his lassie left, for each was assurance of her continued survival. The orcs' passage was written upon the churned-up snow, evident once the dwarves had located the spot where their retreat had reached the tree line. The precious red strands tangled in bushes and branches were no longer needed to guide their steps, but they served as confirmation that the brownies had weathered the frigid night.
Ríkin collected each strand, winding them between the fingers of his left hand as his right rotated his halberd in a never-ending spiral. His lassie was out here…somewhere…and like as not, she was not faring well. Fear colder than ice filled his belly, and 'twas all he could do to stay with the group. From Clove, the dwarves had learned their brownies had no experience with winter or snow. By Durin, lassie. He was not sure if he'd wring her neck when he found her or manacle her wrist to his so that he could be sure she'd never do so foolish a thing again.
She'd been out here all night. What if she fell? If snow covered her, he'd never know if he passed her by, never know what had happened to his lassie.
Mahal. He gripped his halberd harder, chewing on the ragged ends of his mustache. A hand clapped his shoulder. Nyri, the glassblower – one of the other missing brownie's host-family. The other dwarf's green eyes met Ríkin's, and there he read the same fears hounding himself. Though not warriors by trade, both Nyri and his cousin, Nyrar, had fought to defend Erebor in the Battle of Five Armies. Both had left the mountain the instant Prince Kíli had called for them. There had been no hesitation. How the clockmaker and glassblower had determined their brownie to be a youngling was a thing the two dwarves could not pinpoint. Some instinct had told them such early after the brownies' arrival, and both bristled defensively to know their youngling was in danger.
"Thorin."
A dwarf to Ríkin's left hefted an object out of the snow, drawing Ríkin's attention, too. As Thorin made his way to the other dwarf's side, Ríkin saw what the blond-haired warrior held aloft: a sword. Not just a sword, he realized, but an crude, orcish weapon. Thorin examined the blade before tossing it aside. 'twas a strange find, but they needed no sword to tell them their quarry had headed this way. Ríkin dismissed the sword as Thorin seemed to be doing, prodding his legs to resume their ground-eating lope.
But then more weapons crossed their paths, many not even buried in the snow. 'twas baffling at first, but as the numbers of dirks, swords, axes and spears cluttering the snow increased, a fierce rush of emotion surged through Ríkin.
Their brownies were disarming the enemy. "By Durin, lassie," he said in a soft voice, noting a heavy mace half-buried in the snow before him.
"Tell me," Eikin said as they slowed to examine the thing.
How had the brownies lifted the weapon? Despite the grim circumstances, Ríkin's lips curled in a smirk. He'd not be forgetting this show of determination, never underestimate what his lassie might do if she set her mind to it. A wee suspicion occurred to him, one that loudly proclaimed he'd gotten off lightly those many months ago to receive only a face-full of flour. Aye, or the cake.
Feeling the weight of his sire's, Nyri's, and Nyrar's heavy regard upon him, Ríkin pointed at the mace with his halberd and began moving forward once more. "Our brownies' handiwork," he said. "The lassies have been busy."
Eikin's lips curved upward. "Cake, swords, makes no difference. Thekkin would have loved to see this."
Aye. As the foremost engineer in the mountain, though, Thekkin had been given the charge to seal up the orcs' tunnel by the king – and to determine some way to ensure the orcs could not do so again. "My Pepper will have a tale to tell him." And she would. 'twas a growing certainty in his gut, displacing the fear. The spicy lassie he was growing to know all the better would not submit to mere snow. Nay, she'd be well.
And she'd be returning home with him.
OoOoOo
Thorin's eyes slid to Nori's after the sixth or seventh blade was discovered. By Durin, he was heartened by this development.
"A dwarf could grow fond of such lasses," Nori murmured.
Thorin snorted. Aye, the thief would be impressed by this display. "Do you suppose there will be anything left for us to do when we catch up?" At Nori's lifted brow, he clarified in a dry tone, "I'm beginning to wonder if they've managed to steal Bofur away."
Nori chuckled. "Now there's a sight I'd pay good gold to see." Then with a shake of the head and a wrinkling of the nose, "Still be a pack of orcs to see to."
True enough. Though that, too, would be simpler thanks to the two brownies. Bofur, what was it you said about keeping life interesting? Had Bofur any idea what was occurring around him?
OoOoOo
Dalrok gritted his teeth as he ran alongside his troops. Troops. Bah! Worms. "Stupid maggots," he growled.
For over an hour, the orcish force had been plagued. First, the pathetic maggots had taken to stealing each other's rations. Fights broke out over stale, wormy bread. Then, weapons disappeared from one orc's sheath to appear in his neighbor's belt. He'd lost five of the lousy worms in the ensuing scuffle.
Now, they ran on in silence, every eye furtive and every hand tight about a weapon. Rocks had taken to appearing out of thin air, colliding with skulls, arms, and hands. Any weapon fumbled was lost, disappearing into thin air.
Wizard, he fumed, his teeth bared. He smelled a presence, but though he and his men halted twice to beat down the brush all around them, they found no sign of the old man. The Nazgûl had said nothing about a wizard to contend with!
Dalrok roared his displeasure as a rock hit him from behind. Whipping around, he threw a dagger in return. It plunked into a tree…and vanished before his eyes.
He kicked the nearest of his troops. "Move, maggots!" He had to get his prize to the site designated by the Nazgûl before anything else went wrong.
OoOoOo
Hyssop waited only until the orcs had gained some distance before discarding the dagger in the middle of the road of packed snow. She puffed on her fingers, giggling weakly, but the breath from her lungs failed to bring much warmth into her frozen digits. Hands around elbows, arms to her belly, she hurried to catch up once more.
Even with the cold, these last few hours had been fun, and they'd taught her a great deal. If not for the lethargy tugging at her so, she'd wish to continue through the day. But lethargy did tug at her – whether an affect of the cold or Withdrawing, she didn't know. Hyssop was finding it increasingly difficult to work up the motivation to care.
Nyri, where are you? She felt like a lost little girl crying for her father, but fate had not provided such a father as she imagined Nyri would be. He'd be my choice, she thought with a pang. Gruff like all dwarves, he yet had a capacity for gentleness unmatched by anyone she'd ever known. Certainly, her sire had never shown his offspring a fraction of the kindness Nyri bestowed upon strangers.
Hyssop forced her fears from her, firming her shoulders. Though she was tired, so very tired, she refused to give in.
Her mother was wrong. Brownies were not weak. With every minute, she proved it to herself.
OoOoOo
Pepper held her breath as Hyssop slowed at the rear of the orcs' force. Flagging, Pepper thought. I'm doing no better. Still, she forced a cheerful grin to her chapped lips, winking when Hyssop's eyes turned her way. Hyssop's scarf moved, telling her the other brownie tried to smile back.
We're running out of time. The cold was sapping the little strength left them, and the danger of Withdrawing hounded their steps. Pepper not only smelled the salty-sea of her step father, she now heard the low rumble of Ríkin's voice and felt the brush of his beard beneath her cheek. A wondrous sensation, but a deceitful one.
It's not real, she had to remind herself time and again, for her dwarf was nowhere in sight nor did her senses ping back with any node of place. She hugged herself tight, steeling herself to press onward. She'd never been so horribly cold, and if she had her druthers, she'd never leave the warmth of her home during the winter months again.
Pepper forced her feet forward after the orcs. Bofur hung like a sack of potatoes over the shoulder of the biggest of the creatures, comatose to the best she could determine.
Her lips pursed as her head canted to one side. There had to be a way to sneak him away.
OoOoOo
Bofur viewed the world through slit eyes as he dangled arse-upwards from the shoulder of an orc. A tilt of the head found dozens of the creatures jogging all around him. Daphne is not going to be best pleased if you get yourself killed, Bofur my lad. 'twas a fact, and one that warmed him. Though she was likely hundreds of miles away, hidden with his uncle, Balfur, the knowledge that she'd be returning was always cause for a smile – a witless smile, Bifur often called it with a teasing glint in his eye, but Bofur was not going to quibble.
Best he get himself free. He'd not risked the foul land of Faerie to rescue his lass only to die to an orc. An embarrassing end, to be sure, after all he'd faced.
Bofur tilted his head a wee bit to the side, the white pom-poms on his Yule cap bouncing and bumping him in the side of the head in time with the orc's rough gait. He had to school the reluctant humor from his own face at the absurdity of it. The situation was not good, and well did he know it, but he'd get through this. There was no other choice, not if he wished to hold his maple-smelling lass again.
Thorin will come. Of that, he had no doubt. Stubborn, their Durins. And fierce in their loyalties.
Now, if he were a betting dwarf – and what dwarf wasn't – he'd expect the orcs to halt and question him before long. The Dark Lord would stop at nothing to get his hands upon Bofur's One, and that was a fact. Sauron knew full well his Daphne had knowledge of the future thanks to her books. Get Daphne, and he'd know where the One Ring might be found, as well as details about the war still many years ahead.
Best be preparing yourself, my lad. They meant to get answers from him, and though he was determined to reveal nothing, he was none too certain what was in store for him.
But then he noticed the agitated manner of his captors. The orcs raced on, but their attention seemed to be not behind them as he would have expected, but upon the forest itself. His brow creased. Movement drew his attention. The orc in front of him stumbled as if tripping upon an object, slipped and crashed down. If he'd not been looking, he would have missed it. The sword the orc had been carrying was ripped from his grasp…and vanished. The orc's fist pounded into the ice, leaving behind black blood, but then it lunched to the side, arms sweeping. It bellowed its fury until another orc yelled at it. Though it returned to its place in the line, the orc's body trembled with rage.
Helper. He'd heard stories, and he knew his home had benefited from one of the Faerie denizens' touch, but he'd never expected… Fuzzy, mitten-clad fingers brushed his wrist, there and then gone again.
A slow smile spread across his lips. Mayhap all he really needed to do was sit back and enjoy the show.
OoOoOo
The sun reached its zenith. At last, the orcs halted as they sought what shade could be found. Pepper held Hyssop back as the orcs dumped Bofur on the ground. One shouted to the others, and many began to sit on snow-covered logs or rocks. What looked to be old, crusty bread appeared in hands and many began to eat. A break? It certainly seemed that way to Pepper. Good. Because the brownies needed one, too.
She tugged Hyssop back a ways before encouraging Hyssop to at the base of a tree whose roots bulged from the ground. She opened her coat – inhaling silently at the brutal cold that seared the skin – and wrapped it around them both. They huddled together, both radiating misery.
"We have to get Bofur," Hyssop whispered.
Pepper nodded absently. But what good did it do to grab Bofur if there was no help nearby? She and Hyssop could hide him…for a short time. Truthfully, she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep herself hidden, much less herself plus the added burden of an additional person.
"My feet are numb."
Pepper met her eyes, then chafed the younger brownie's arms. "They'll come for us. You'll see."
"I'm tired, Pepper." Bleak brown eyes peered up at her from a pale face.
I am, too, Pepper dared not say. Instead, she hugged Hyssop tight and let her eyes close. Ríkin, I need you.
They sat there longer than Pepper dared to hope, the orcs arguing with each other until one stabbed another…and the lot of them fell on the fallen comrade's carcass like the most savage of scavengers. Pepper covered Hyssop's eyes and turned away. If she'd had contents in her belly, she would have lost them.
Repulsive creatures.
It was then that she felt it. Pepper's heart skipped a beat. Place. Two blessedly familiar nodes were closing in upon her location, and it was all Pepper could do not to burst into tears. Ríkin and Eikin. Warmth spread through her chest. They'd come for her.
She was so going to give Ríkin an earful about his tardiness. Pepper sniffled, already anticipating the heated exchange she was sure would come. She knew her Ríkin, and he was not going to be happy with her for leaving the mountain like this.
Not a split-second later, Hyssop gasped, her head whipping around to face Pepper. Her face lit with joy. "Nyri and Nyrar," she whispered. Hyssop's mittened hands grabbed hers with sudden strength. "They came!"
"Did you doubt?" Pepper asked as she painfully clambered to her feet, levering Hyssop up with her.
"I thought they would. I mean, I was pretty sure… Wh-what are you doing?" Hyssop asked.
Pepper paused, one arm stretched across her torso – limbering up for what she knew had to happen. "We need to end this," Pepper said. "I have one last game for our orcs." She even managed a crooked smile, knowing Hyssop would detect it beneath her scarf. By the All-Father, she was exhausted, but she'd be dipped and dyed before she admitted how close she was to the end of her strength to Hyssop.
The instant she was with her dwarf, she was going to steal his coat, wrap his arms around her, and snuggle in close. She bobbed her head once. Aye, she thought, mimicking her dwarf's drawl.
The thought was heartening, and she found herself sporting a genuine smile.
It faded at Hyssop's yearning expression. How tempted she was at that moment to send Hyssop to the dwarves, to just let her go. But as her attention returned to Bofur, Pepper knew she couldn't take the chance with him. Her plan wouldn't work without Hyssop's help.
If she did this right, Bofur and Hyssop would be safe. If.
Then I'd best be sure I rile the orcs but good, she thought, stretching her frozen limbs in preparation for the race before her. "Hyssop?" As the other brownie's eyes left the forest behind them with reluctance, Pepper asked, "We're almost done. I need you to do one last thing."
Hyssop nodded shortly, eyes narrowing and chin lifting. "What do you need me to do?"
OoOoOo
Nyri exchanged yet another hard look with his cousin. Nyri had shed eight glass beads from his beard from his incessant fretting, that despite Nyrar slapping his hand away from his braids periodically.
Since setting eyes upon the brownie in the Hall of the Forefathers, his concern for the wee lass who'd adopted himself and his cousin had only increased. Such a small, frail people, these brownies. Generous, aye, but they were not dwarves. He fumed each time he thought upon the king's decree. To hide the Helpers, aye, he could understand that. But to hide them from even their own host-families? The lasses needed them, and by Durin, the king had known it.
And now the wee lass who'd taken such care of himself and his cousin was out here, hunting orcs of all things. She knows not her dam's plight. How would the poor mite take the news? A deep fear had claimed him, for what if 'twas their lassie next to fade like the dam seemed bent upon doing?
"We'll see her through this," Nyrar said low in his throat, his lips pinched. "Don't give up on her just yet, Cousin."
Aye. Nyri had known almost from the start that their "Helper" was young. He and his cousin had worried something fierce when she'd vanished on them – when they'd thought she'd vanished on them, Nyri thought with another touch of anger at their king. To hear she'd followed orcs to aid one of their people… Well, Nyri was proud of her, but genuinely beside himself.
A child had no business chasing orcs.
He fiddled with one of the remaining glass beads in his beard. The cousins had discussed the matter between themselves during the long march. If their Helper lost her dam, they'd be stepping in to take care of her if she'd let them. Neither believed himself likely to marry, each content instead to devote time to his craft, but Nyri knew if given the opportunity to gain a daughter, he'd be taking it.
Nay, not a daughter. This daughter, he corrected, for the cousins had both developed a fondness for their invisible lass. They knew not the brownies' ways. Mayhap the lass had a sire, though if he lived, he'd failed their lass and would receive a sound talking-to. Aye, Nyri growled to himself, he would.
But first, they had to find the lass and bring her home safely.
OoOoOo
Pepper started by assaulting the orcs with rocks and sticks, weaving among them and making absolutely certain they were harassed into full fury. Then dropping her invisibility, praying she'd be able to reclaim it, she sneered at the lot of them, waggling mitten-clad hands before vanishing once more.
Oooh, were they mad now. Orcs roared and charged. Pepper fled, kicking up snow, her path looping as she dodged orc hands. Hurry, hurry, she thought, eyes fixed upon Bofur. Not a heartbeat later, he vanished from plain sight. The orcs seemed not to notice, their attention decidedly elsewhere. Good job, Hyssop. The other brownie sat at Bofur's side, her shield extended to hide him, too.
That was easy. She squeaked as one orc got hold of her coat. Spoke too soon. Pepper wiggled free of the coat and ran for her life.
I hope you're ready for this, Ríkin.
OoOoOo
A fierce and dark joy claimed Dalrok as the short, bundled-up red-head vanished. He howled in victory. It had been no wizard hounding their steps. The female possessed the Master's Ring. And the rewards awaiting the orc able to return that prize to the Dark Lord would be unparalleled.
"Capture the female!" he bellowed, abandoning any thought of the puny dwarf. The creature was unneeded now, for the most prized object of all was within reach. His reach. "Capture the female!"
OoOoOo
A low thunder, and Thorin's free hand flew up, halting his dwarves. He cocked his head.
"Aye, something is coming," Nori whispered at his side.
Thorin nodded in agreement. With Orcrist, he pointed to the left then right. Ríkin led a third of the dwarves to the right while Kíli led another, matching division to Thorin's left. All hunkered down in the snow, weapons poised and trembling with anticipation as they waited.
OoOoOo
Bofur stared after the departing orcs, wriggling in a hurry to the edge of a rock not far away. The strange distortion to his sight disappeared as he lost contact with the Helper who'd taken hold of his hand, but he paid it little attention. He had to get loose. That red-haired brownie was in no shape to be attempting to outrun orcs, not from the glimpse of her he'd had.
Another of the lasses popped into sight, her thin body clad in Bifur's winter coat. Pale, she was, as she dropped to her knees with an orcish dagger in one hand. "H-h-hold s-still," she said.
Bofur gently took the dagger from her, reversing the blade and sawing through the ropes binding his wrists. Once freed, he set to work on his ankles. "Are ye well, lass?" he asked. The poor mite looked to be naught but a youngling.
Frightened brown eyes met his. Bofur hurried, kicking rope fragments from his legs and gathering the Helper to him with one arm. Och, but the lass was icy to the touch. A small nose pressed to his neck as she burrowed into his embrace, and he chafed her back as he gained his feet, picking her up with him.
"Can you vanish for me, lass?" he asked as he headed out of the churned up snow into thicker woods.
The youngling vanished.
"Well now. 'tis not often a dwarf has the pleasure of a nice stroll through the woods with a pretty lass such as yourself," he commented, forcing a light tone.
The youngling snickered weakly. Then, "N-n-nice stroll?"
"Weeell," he said, drawing out the word. "I'll grant it's a bit nippy…"
"A bit?"
"…and the locals a mite unfriendly…"
Another, shaky laugh.
"But I can't complain about the company. It could be worse, lass."
"Y-you are a n-n-nut, B-Bofur," she said. Then clutching him, "I need Nyri."
'twas the voice of a youngling crying for the safety of her sire, he thought. Rubbing the lass's back, he said, "Aye, lass. You hold on, and I'll be finding him for you."
OoOoOo
Thorin's brows flew upwards to see the orcs pounding towards them, seemingly not aware of his dwarves' presence. No, by the angle of their heads and scowls upon their faces, they were intent upon the ground.
"Daft, the lot of them," Nori said with a low laugh of ridicule.
Perhaps. Thorin scrutinized the scene, seeking out any sign of a trap. Kíli's eyes met his, his nephew's bow taut and arrow at the ready. Thorin lifted a hand. Wait. His gaze sharpened. Puffs of snow burst into the air on their own. Footsteps, he realized. Mahal. The orcs had discovered their brownies.
That was when a brownie with a messy, orange mop of hair burst into view, her path veering wildly to Thorin's right. Pepper, he realized. Ríkin's immediate reaction confirmed it, for the junior captain charged towards her with a battle-cry, his warriors right behind him.
Thorin lifted Orcrist and signaled the others. With Nori at one side and Bifur at the other, he ran towards the enemy.
OoOoOo
When his Pepper popped into view, orcs almost on top of her, Ríkin's heart near failed. Ye daft female. Aghast, he charged without waiting the king's command, his halberd lifted. Right for her he ran, determined to ensure her protection.
His lassie disappeared not a yard from him, and he froze. He could scarcely swing his halberd, for what if he harmed her? But then, icy arms wrapped around him from behind. Ríkin braced himself as the first orc's weapon slammed into the unyielding length of his halberd's shaft. Ríkin twisted it, thrusting the orc's blade away, then a reverse slice drew the bladed edge across the orc's neck.
The fight intensified as Ríkin's dwarves bore the brunt of the attack. Looking for my lassie, he deduced, his anger climbing. By Mahal, they'd not touch her. He spied Dalkin out of the corner of his eye. "Get her to safety," he growled, thrusting his lassie's arm into his sire's grasp.
Dalkin nodded, and the pressure of Pepper's arms around Ríkin vanished.
With Eikin on one side and Nyrar on the other, he waded into the orcs' midst. Ríkin's rage was unleashed upon the ill-equipped creatures. He imagined as they were cut down that these orcs rued the day they'd tangled with his lassie. My spicy lassie. By Durin, he adored his Pepper.
The instant the last fell, Ríkin stomped to where his sire waited at the rear of the dwarves' forces. His Pepper popped into view, and his anger climbed. Mittens and scarf were not enough to ward off such cold. He removed his heavy coat, and stalked to her, wrapping it around her with lips pressed tight to hold in the words demanding voice. What had she been thinking to endanger herself so? His temper rumbled with the force of a solid day of pent-up worry.
"You're late," she murmured as he swept her into his arms.
"Late?" he echoed, his voice a growl. "Late?" Mahal. She was too cold, and his worry escalated to note small ice crystals upon the exposed flesh of her nose and brow.
"I forgive you," she slurred, her scarf-covered face finding a place upon his shoulder. Then softer, "I knew you'd come."
He closed his eyes and kissed the crown of her head. Then as the knowledge sank into his bones that she was safe at last, words burst from him. "What did ye think ye were doing? Do ye have any idea the worry ye caused? 'tis full winter, my Pepper, and I'm telling you, ye have no business…"
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Pepper closed her eyes as her dwarf vented the full of his spleen, lips curled in a small smile.
I love you, too, my grouchy dwarf.