"You are unusually quiet," Thorin said to Gandalf as they walked.
"Aren't we all?" The wizard's bushy eyebrows raised slightly, his face was still in partial shadow beneath the rim of his tall grey hat. Thorin glanced up at him briefly before turning his head to watch the company walk in silence behind them. He sighed, Gandalf was right. Very little had been said by anyone since they began their trek and any hushed murmurs were swallowed up by the wind. It was a cold morning - autumn was truly on its way. The trees lining their path had begun to change colour from fresh green to russet and yellow, some leaves were already starting to carpet the ground. Usually there would have been some complaints about the chill, voices sending a white cloud of smoke-like breath into the air, but there were no moans or grumbles that morning as the company quietly and cheerlessly packed away their things.
"Aye." Thorin nodded, turning away with a sigh. As he turned, his gaze lingered on his nephew. Fili walked, eyes downcast, alone. It was strange not to see him with his brother close beside him, making some humorous comment that kept a grin permanently painted on the elder prince's face. "What are our chances," Thorin asked Gandalf, in a low voice, "of finding Kili alive and well? Do you think we will?" There was a silence for many moments as the wizard considered this question. Gandalf glanced down at the dwarf next to him. Thorin may have been looking straight ahead, providing him with only the sideways view of his face, but there was no mistaking the unease in those usually hard blue eyes.
"There is nothing to say that we will not find him alive. Your nephew is brave, that I have seen these past few weeks." Gandalf said. That Thorin already knew, for Kili's bravery often surprised him. For such a young dwarf, he was unmeasurably daring – finding delight in wild adventure, his nephew liked to send his heart racing. But perhaps he was too brave, if there was such a thing. Filled with the confidence that youth brought, Kili dived into danger without even a flurry of fear. And now he was paying for it. Thorin's fists curled at his sides. "But finding him well? That is quite another thing." Gandalf spoke truthfully, knowing all too well the malicious intent of orcs. He watched the dwarf king's jaw tense as the staunch mask he wore cracked, briefly unveiling the fearful uncle beneath. He placed a hand on Thorin's shoulder and patted it lightly.
This was the first time since he left Bag End that Bilbo could recall the company walking in such glum silence. Usually there were jokes and stories being told, excitement for their journey and for Erebor resonating throughout the group. But now, as they travelled uphill back into tree scattered mountains, there was only the briefest conversation which came and went with long soundless intervals. Bilbo was walking beside Bofur who stared resolutely ahead, eyes sometimes shifting to view the shrinking land, a blue hue tinting the landscape, as they trekked higher into the hills. The sun wasn't even at its highest and Bilbo already felt they had been walking a full day, something about the silence made time seem slower, every moment lingered. He didn't like the silence, it made him feel nervous. He had tried to entice a conversation some time ago, remarking about how the leaves were changing colour and how he was sure he's seen some frost that morning. To this Bofur simply nodded, giving the Hobbit a quick sideways glance. Bilbo shrugged his bag further up his back and carried on walking. That day was probably the most boring he had experienced since the journey began. And he knew why: their most cheerful, optimistic member was missing and without Kili to play tricks or tell jokes, the company had fallen into a silent, melancholic march across a strange new landscape. Bilbo hoped the cheery young prince would be returned to them soon. He glanced up to watch Fili trudging miserably ahead of him.
"Do you think he's alright?" Bilbo asked Bofur quietly.
"Who?"
"Fili, do you think he's alright?" He repeated.
"He's worried," Bofur shrugged, looking at the blonde dwarf thoughtfully. "He thinks it's his job to look after his brother, and now he can't." He sighed.
"Have you known them long?"
"Fili and Kili? Oh aye, I knew them as children." Bofur nodded, "Everyone in Ered Luin knew them, and not just because they were Thorin's nephews, but because they were always causing trouble." He said, a small smile spreading across his lips - the first smile Bilbo had seen all day. "Where one was, so was the other. And if you could only see one, you should have been worried."
"Why?" Bilbo inquired.
"Because the other one was probably up to no good." Bofur paused, eyes flicking skywards as though chasing down a memory. "I remember one time, Kili put on this wonderful display in the middle of the market, said he had hurt his leg, crying and everything. So while everyone was trying to calm the little lad down, Fili went ahead and made off with half a dozen fresh apples from one of the stalls. Next thing you know Kili stops crying, pokes his tongue out and scampers away, leaving everyone a little bit baffled." The hatted dwarf chuckled slightly at the recollection before continuing. "I'd never met such a pair of mischievous dwarflings, I mean, you'd think being nephews of the king they would have been exceptionally well-behaved. Not much has changed even now, they still like their tricks. Kili more so, Fili has grown up a little, I suppose he's had to, being Thorin's immediate heir and all." As Bilbo looked up at Fili, still trudging glumly onwards, it was hard to picture him as the heir to the throne, let alone a king. Because in that moment he just seemed so scared. But Kili, that lad still enjoys causing trouble." Bilbo heard Bofur sigh sadly, the smile had disappeared from his face. "I hope we find him," He said sullenly.
For a brief, brilliant moment when he was untied, Kili let his stiff and aching muscles relax. The pain in his wrists, from where the rough orcish rope cut into him, throbbed and tingled as he rested his hands on the ground, curling his fingers into the dirt and leaves. He dragged in a deep breath, feeling a tenderness in his ribs. He could smell the woodland, the scent of pine trees and bark, the earthy soil and fallen early autumn leaves. For a moment he considered running, he thought about darting into the trees, about hiding amongst the dense undergrowth or climbing to conceal himself in the leaves. He was fast, he could give the orcs the slip and remain hidden until they left. If they left. Every impulse in Kili's body screamed at him to move, he could almost hear Thorin and Fili inside his head telling him, begging him, to run. He would have complied but his rationality suddenly burst through, clearing his mind of his impulsive thoughts. He would never be able to get away from the orcs. This land was alien to him and he would quickly get lost, wandering through unfamiliar terrain until fatigue and hunger got to him. And who was to say the orcs would not catch him? Kili was fast, that he knew, but he also knew that he was no match for the wargs who would catch him within moments. If Kili ran now, it would be a hopeless and failed attempt to escape. The young prince's shoulder slumped. How disappointed would his uncle be now, if he knew Kili wasn't even trying to get away?
A hand twisted itself into the collar of Kili's coat and he was roughly heaved to his feet and pushed forward. He almost hit the floor again with the force, but managed to keep his footing. The orcs were all staring at him with their yellow eyes shining and teeth flashing in menacing sneers. He didn't want to look at them, didn't want to meet their cruel glares, didn't want to see the way they laughed as he was marched through the camp, receiving stern shoves to the back. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze and kept his eyes pinned on his boots as he walked. There was a splash of blood upon the leather, hidden amongst the dirt and scores. He'd scrubbed the boots clean and polished them until they shone the night before he left Ered Luin, excitement bubbling in his stomach as he wondered about all the adventure he was about to have. Kili had not expected to end up as an orc prisoner. Then he was thrown to his knees, the ground stung as he landed. Kili bowed his head and bit down on his lip. He didn't need to see the huge white figure looming from the shadows, early sunlight making his pale skin imitate a fiery glow, to know who was approaching. Nor to realise that from that moment on, his life was going to consist of fear and pain. He breathed in deeply and stiffened his muscles to stop them from trembling.
"Look at me." Azog said. Kili froze, he had never heard orcs speak in Westron, only ever barking at one another in foul Black Speech. It was strange to hear, it unnerved him. It didn't sound right. "Look at me!" Azog growled loudly. Kili flinched at the frustration in the pale orc's voice, head snapping up and brown eyes widening. "Good boy." Azog smirked. He crouched low and leaned towards Kili, who arched his back in an attempt to keep distance between him and the monstrous orc. Azog's eyes narrowed as he studied the dwarf again. It took everything in Kili's consciousness to keep his face impassive and still. He could smell Azog's foul breath. "So young. No more than a child in dwarf terms." He observed, "Tell me, little one, what is your name?"
"That is no business of yours." Kili said tersely, suddenly finding his courage again. He straightened his shoulders.
"You are my prisoner."
"So I've gathered." Kili responded dryly, tilting his head to the side slightly in a motion that mocked the orc's blatancy. Azog's lip curled up in a grunt, he waved his hand and Kili was suddenly struck from behind. A blow to the back that winded him. He received another kick to the gut, an action that roughly pushed out any remaining air in Kili's lungs. He doubled over with a groan, arms wrapped around his middle. He squeezed his eyes shut to steady himself just as a hand curled itself into his hair, yanking him forcefully back upright.
"I want to know your name. No doubt you know mine." Kili noted the self-importance in Azog's voice, the way he stood with his hands on his hips, his chest swelling outwards. It reminded him of a male bird trying to impress a female. But Kili didn't find it impressive, he found it pitiful. How anyone could find gratification by being notorious for ruin and cruelty was beyond him.
"Yes." He said at last. His teeth clenched as he looked up at Azog, still stood swollen with pride. He didn't like self-righteous people.
"And so I would like to know your name." Kili shook his head.
"You'll never have it." The proudness in Azog's posture vanished, obviously he was not used to being disobeyed. All the other orcs looked too afraid of him to even dare. Kili supposed he should have been afraid as well, he had been, but in that moment he wasn't. The uncertainty and fear of the night before, whilst sitting alone beneath the trees in the dark and the cold had been pushed the bottom of his gut, supressed beneath a burning furnace of determination, courage and hate. Azog waved his hand again, fed up of the dwarfling's impertinence. The blow came from the side that time, a pain above his elbow that spread up into his shoulder. He hit the ground with an involuntary groan, just as a heavy boot connected with his ribs, sending a judder through his bones. Then came another. Kili curled in on himself, drawing his knees to his chest, his hands wrapped around his head. Another boot, this time tipped with hard steel, struck him from behind, hitting him just below the shoulder blade. Over the sound of the blows and the blood pumping as loud as drums in his ears, he could hear the orcs about him cackling and jeering, mocking the defenceless dwarf as their comrades continued their assault. The beating lasted longer that time, Kili could imagine Azog looking on with pleasure, the satisfaction of the display triggering a foul sneer. Finally, after a last kick to the arms, Kili's attackers shuffled away. For a moment Kili lay where he was, heart thundering so quick and hard in his chest that it upset his sore ribs. He bit down on his lip and squeezed his eyes shut – even so, he could still see the shadows of the orcs beneath his lids. Azog's great hand wrapped itself around his left wrist, pressing tightly against the rope cuts, and he yanked the dwarf back up into a kneeling position.
"Tell me your name." He demanded. He was impatient and his jaw was tight. Kili's shoulders rose and fell quickly as he breathed, feeding his lungs with the air he had lacked as he was beat. He steeled his features, brown eyes boring into Azog's. The beating had not weakened him, nor made him fearful. He felt riled, fury pumped through his veins. He didn't want to hide, he wanted to fight. The orcs did what they shouldn't have; they'd provoked him, triggered the warrior within him. They'd awoken the Durin blood.
"No." He growled, voice venomous, before leaning forward and spitting in Azog's face. The pale orc's features scrunched in anger, lips curled and eyes bulging. He swung the back of his hand against Kili's cheek with a roar. Kili tasted blood. He ignored the sting that turned the left side of his face a fierce red as he dived forward, arms wrapping around Azog's middle, forcing him to the ground. Kili brought his fist down against his temple, feeling the hardness of the bone beneath the flesh. Azog moaned as Kili hit him with a force he'd thought unlikely of the dwarfling. He swiped Kili away, the dwarf rolled away onto the dirt and Gurlak seized him around the waist. For a moment Kili's feet were off the ground as the orc gripped him, but he brought his elbow down into the creature's ribs and he was dropped, landing on his hands and knees. He heard the swishing of a blade and pushed himself away and onto his feet just as a sword was swung past his head, inches from taking it off his shoulders. He growled and charged forward and, leaping from the floor, kicked the orc with the steel-toed boots in the chest. The orc stumbled backwards with a grunt. Kili's eyes flashed, but as he went to move forward again, his world turned black, a piece of wood striking against the side of his head, and he crumpled to the ground.
-Author's note -
Oops, this is a week late! Sorry! I've been very busy with my voluntary job lately, so if this seems a little rushed I apologise once again. But I hope you enjoy this chapter just the same.
Thank you for all the reviews and favourites/follows. It feels great knowing my work is enjoyed! (You guys rock!)
So, if you liked this part, Reviews/favourites/follows are much appreciated :)
