The morning had been cold, and the company had marched quickly to prevent the chill from setting upon them, but now the sun was at its highest and the morning mist had long since vanished. With the sun beginning to warm their backs, the ground had started to level and the hills made way for smooth land. The flat ground helped to ease the burning in their legs and brought some light relief. But Fili felt no relief, he hadn't even noticed that they were no longer walking uphill anymore. He hadn't really noticed much of the trek at all. He hadn't noticed the early autumn leaves falling gradually from the trees and how they scampered across the ground when the cold wind blew. He hadn't observed the view of the gold and green landscape below them. And he most certainly didn't take note of the looks he was receiving from the rest of the company. Ever since his outburst the previous day, when he pinned Thorin down and screamed at him, he knew his friends had become cautious of him. They watched him warily, and spoke carefully when he was within ear's reach. Fili supposed he should have felt ashamed of his explosion, he was Thorin's heir after all, and one day he would be king. His uncle had taught him to keep emotions private, that any public displays of anger or sadness or worry could be used against him. But Fili hadn't cared, he was angry and sad and worried and hiding those emotions would not have made him feel any better. He sighed and trudged onwards, the bag on his back feeling heavier than usual – despite the fact they'd lost much of their items in Goblin Town. The straps pulled at his shoulders and it took a lot of effort to keep them up straight. Perhaps it had always been that heavy and he'd just never noticed before.
The day continued slowly and silently. Conversation was brief and before long the flat land began to rise sharply again. The woods gave way to uneven, dull grey rock. Thorin had fallen back to walk beside Fili, who had shot him only a quick glance when he came to his side. After some moments, he had gone to speak, to break the suddenly unbearable silence, but seeing how his nephew's posture stiffened, he closed his mouth and reverted to his wordless march. The two dwarves walked an arm's length away from each other, Fili keeping his eyes fixed firmly forward, watching the mountains roll upwards, pretending his uncle was not there. But Thorin watched him from the corner of his eye. The blonde prince looked exhausted, there were circles beneath his eyes and he looked paler than usual, even beneath the late afternoon light, which shinned gold across the land. Concern was masked across his young nephew's face.
"Fili," He said. Fili said nothing, and didn't look his way. "We'll reach him." Fili nodded ever so slightly, in fact the action would had gone amiss if Thorin hadn't been observing him so closely. We have too, Thorin thought to himself. They pressed on, not another word was spoken.
Kili was aware of two things when he awoke, the low, late afternoon light shining blindingly through the trees. The first was that he could taste blood. Its metallic tinge clung to his teeth and buried itself in the cracks of his dry lips. He went to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand but found that he was bound again. That is when he became aware that he wasn't tied to the same tree, this one was broader and the bark was softer, the leaves scattered around him were long dead and rotting into the dirt. Kili looked about him, the entire camp was different, it was larger and lighter, and the trees were further spaced out than before. We've moved, Kili thought. Then his heart skipped a beat with panic. If the orcs had indeed travelled – and he could not guess how far – would Fili and Thorin still be able to find him, to take him away from the orcs and to somewhere safe? Or would they lose the orc's trail and him along with it? No, no, no. They'd find him. They wouldn't give up. But now, perhaps it would take longer. He rested his head back against the tree. His body ached all over, his ribs, his back, his arms and sides. A dull, throbbing pain in all his muscles which spread up into his skull, lingering behind his eyes. He felt tired too, although he was sure he'd been unconscious for some hours. Before the light was fresh – that of morning, and now he could see that the sun was shining low in the sky. Sunset was approaching. His second night as Azog's prisoner loomed.
As the forest grew darker, shadows creeping in to shroud the camp in gloom, the orcs lit a fire. It burnt a brilliant orange, the smoke billowing up to disappear through the leaves. Two deer carcasses were dragged into the glade, a trail of blood soaking the dirt behind them. The orcs let out loud cackles, hands clapping in the cold air and feet stomping on the ground, they eyed the hunt eagerly, shoving against each other. Kili looked away as they began to skin and gut the animals, he'd never been too fond of that processes, the sound was nauseating enough. Instead he looked into the trees, focusing on a fixed point in the darkness. He saw the round beady eyes of an owl reflecting the glow of the fire. It stared right at him, its feathers shining gold in the light. Kili envied the bird; it didn't need to worry about being prisoner, about being bound and beaten. With just a flap of its wings it could be far from here, swooping and soaring in the direction of freedom. The bird shook its feathers, one fell silently towards the ground, landing on a pile of dead leaves without as much as a rustle. And then, with a hoot, the owl took off, flying low past Kili's head and into the trees, Kili watched its silvery feathers disappear into the gloom.
It wasn't long before the deer hides had been tossed in a pile at the edge of camp and the innards had been thrown in the direction of the four wargs, who fought amongst themselves for the most desirable pieces, blood caking their huge muzzles. Kili's nose crunched up as he watched them, unable to drag his eyes away, no matter how disgusting the scene was. The orcs, however seemed unfazed by their beasts ravenously tearing at a deer's lungs or stomach, and rather went about ripping at the rest of the carcass (Azog helped himself to an entire hind leg) and held their chosen piece of meat over the fire to cook. The orcs obviously didn't care much about whether the meat was cooked through, some of them didn't even bother and ate it raw. Kili observed them. They weren't much different to the wargs, really. They bickered amongst themselves, shoving and growling and beating, to get at the meat, tearing greedily into the dear flesh with sharp yet partially rotten yellow teeth, juices from the under-cooked venison dripping down their chins. They devoured most of the two deers within minutes, tossing bones and gristle to the side and picking at their teeth for what was left behind and licking their lips. Kili's nose was still crinkled as he noticed Azog watching him over the top of the camp fire – he still had some of the deer leg left, he hadn't rushed to consume it and seemed to be taking his time. Kili supposed he didn't worry about the other orcs hungrily snatching it off him, - Kili's eyes met his, he frowned as Azog leaned into Gurlak and said something into his pointed ear. Gurlak nodded and eyed Kili before standing. Some after dinner entertainment? Kili wondered. He pushed his back into the tree trunk as Gurlak bent to reach something from the ground. A knife was Kili's guess, or maybe a club – anything to cause him pain. But it wasn't a weapon of any sort, for when the orc straightened back up, Gurlak had a piece of the deer meat in his hand. Kili frowned.
Gurlak approached him before kneeling down, holding the piece of meat up for Kili to see.
"Open your mouth." Gurlak said. Kili looked at the chunk of meat in the orc's hand. It was almost entirely pink, if it had been cooked it had only been cooked long enough for the outside to turn a very slight shade of light brown, for the centre was still completely raw, bloody too. The crimson liquid dripped slowly down onto Gurlak's palm. "Eat."
"It's raw." Kili told him, as though the one eyed orc was incapable of seeing that for himself. Gurlak raised the meat a little higher.
"Eat."
"It's raw." Kili said again, slowly as though talking to a small child.
"Azog wants you to eat." Gurlak spoke slowly and methodically, as though he had to think hard about every word that passed his lips. Obviously he was not as fluent in Westron as Azog was. "Azog doesn't want you to starve. You would be no use to him then."
"Well, if Azog doesn't want me to starve then tell him to cook the meat. Maybe then I'll eat it."
"It's all you are getting."
"Then I guess I'll be of no use to Azog." Kili shrugged. A growl emanated from Gurlak's chest and his free hand shoot up to grip Kili's jaw. Kili tried to shake it off, but to no avail, as Gurlak began to squeeze, forcing his jaw apart and mouth to open. Before he had chance to attempt to get the orc's huge hand off his face again, the raw venison was shoved roughly into Kili's mouth. Gurlak proceeded to hold a hand over Kili's mouth.
"So you don't spit it out." He said. "Eat now." Kili didn't want to eat it. Yes, he was hungry, he had felt – and heard - his stomach grumble with desire for food but this raw meat, cold and tough, was not what he had yearned for, he hadn't even chewed once and could feel the blood running down his throat. It made him feel sick and he knew that the moment the meal landed in his gut it would come straight back up. He shook his head. "Eat it." Gurlak said sternly, shoving Kili harder into the tree until his back hurt. "Now." Kili didn't want to give in, didn't want to consume this un-cooked piece of deer, but he knew that Gurlak would remain knelt in front of him until he did. Regretfully, he took a small chew. Then another. It was like eating leather, the meat was still firm, not succulent and tender like Bombur's cooking. It felt heavy in his mouth and his teeth soon ached from the effort to cut through it. Kili squeezed his eyes shut and tried to convince himself that he was sat with his friends and that Bombur had cooked it and that it was delicious. But it didn't work. And as the portion got smaller the taste got worse, it made Kili's closed eyes water. It seemed forever to get through the piece of meat, but finally the last bits slid down his throat. His stomach made an unhappy noise. "Open." Gurlak ordered, taking his hand away. Kili opened his mouth and the orc inspected it, making sure he'd eaten all of it and nothing had been squashed to the roof of his mouth or was hidden under his tongue. "Good." Then Gurlak shoved more meat between Kili's teeth. "Don't spit it out," he warned, this time not holding his hand over the young dwarf's mouth. The meat tasted even worse this time. This time it tasted of burnt wood and smoke, the flavour stung his tongue. Gurlak watched him forcefully chew through the tough meat, eyes squeezing shut with every bite. "Finished?" He said eventually. Kili nodded slowly opening his mouth, hoping that there was no more meat left for him to force down his throat. "Good." Gurlak stood and walked away without giving Kili another look. Kili dragged in a deep breath and panted the air into his mouth, longing for the taste of the woodland, of the leaves and the berries, to replace the tang left by the raw venison. His stomach made another unhappy sound, a stab of pain in his middle as Kili leaned as best he could to the side and coughed into the dirt.
- AN -
Yuk, poor Kili. He really is having a bad time.
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