28: One for the Road
Tauriel woke with a violent start, her heart pounding inside her chest. A deafening sound had ripped through the air, yanking her out of a rare, dreamless slumber. Before she had time to get her breathing under control, the sound came again.
"What the—"
The rest of Kíli's curse was muffled by him getting tangled in the sheets as he tried to shoot out of his side of the bed and ended up in a heap of limbs and blankets on the floor beside it.
Not paying his continued angry mutterings any heed, Tauriel jumped out of bed, quickly donning those items of clothing that were hers and throwing those that were Kíli's in his direction.
"Get dressed. Something is happening."
"As if I wouldn't have been able to tell," he grumbled, but obeyed her command and pulled the shirt which had just landed in his lap over his head.
From outside their bedroom door a commotion could be heard, a series of thumps and clangs followed by a string of shouted expletives. Mostly dressed but still rather disheveled, Tauriel and Kíli stumbled into the sitting area to find Ruari banging about the space, apparently searching for a missing boot.
"What's going on?" Kíli asked, then blinked. "And when did you get in anyway?"
"None of your business." Ruari's tone left no room for further inquiries as to his nightly whereabouts. "Now help me find that bloody boot and we can head out to find out what is causing that ruckus."
After a couple of minutes of searching, Tauriel plucked the offensive item of footwear off the mantelpiece and dangled it in front of Ruari's face. He snatched it from her with the sort of grunt Tauriel had come to recognize as his way of expressing gratitude and shoved his foot into it only to yank it out again with a yelp of pain. Turning the boot upside down, he retrieved a prickly pine cone from inside it.
Tauriel's eyebrows shot up. "Do I even dare ask?"
"You do not." Under his beard, Ruari's cheeks had turned pink, which he tried to hide by leaning down to finally fasten the lacings on his boot.
Kíli and Tauriel exchanged an amused glance. There was a story there to be coaxed out of their friend, but that would have to wait until later. For now, they needed to determine the source of the loud noise which continued to tear through the air at regular intervals.
Bursting through the heavy door which separated their quarters from the rest of Dáin's halls, they found that the corridors outside were completely deserted. Where was everyone?
Tauriel followed Kíli and Ruari to the entrance hall, glad that they did not seem to find the dark corridors inside Dáin's mansion as labyrinthine as she did. The entrance hall, too, was empty of guards, which struck her as quite odd. And still that sound, louder now that they were not as deep in the recesses of the house as before.
They hurried to the heavy oaken doors, Kíli throwing his shoulder into the one on the left to force it open. Outside the gray morning mist had not yet lifted and Tauriel keenly felt the absence of her outer layer of clothing when the cold damp seeped through the fabric of her tunic and sunk into her skin like sharp, greedy claws. Her discomfort did not last long—how could she have focused on something as trivial as that when right in front of her eyes an army of Dwarves was preparing to go to war.
Hundreds of soldiers were moving through the cobbled streets, carrying various pieces of armor and weapons, some of them pulling carts loaded with provisions and strange machinery which Tauriel supposed were designed either for attack or defense—or both. They were all headed towards the city gates—to gather in the fields outside the borders, most likely.
"It worked," Kíli mumbled beside her. "It really worked."
From his demeanor it was clear that he had not at all been certain that it would and that Dáin might still end up sending them away or, worse, throwing them in his dungeons to rot. Tauriel reached out to briefly squeeze his hand. They had done it. He had done it. And now they were going to Erebor.
The rows of soldiers marching past broke to let Dáin Ironfoot pass through as he came riding towards them on a huge warthog. Tauriel doubled back at that, looked again. Yes, it was most definitely a warthog the Lord of the Iron Hills was sitting astride on, its stout body clad in armor that made it look fiercer than some of the mightiest stallions Tauriel had seen in her life. Dáin was in full armor as well, a helmet polished to perfection gleaming in the weak morning light.
"Don't just stand there until your eyeballs drop out of their sockets," he cried over yet another blare of the horn which, Tauriel now realized, had been what had woken her. "Weren't you the ones insisting we ride to war? Buck up and get yourselves down to the armory!"
And with that he was gone again, the steady stream of marching Dwarves swallowing him so seamlessly that soon only the red crest on top of his helmet was visible. In his place stepped a foot soldier who eyed them curiously.
"Follow me," he said, and turned to lead them in the opposite direction of the marching Dwarves.
Kíli, Ruari, and Tauriel regarded each other, slightly bewildered by how fast things were moving along.
"Well, I won't mind turning in those tools we've been optimistically referring to as weapons in exchange for a proper blade," Kíli said with a shrug.
"Me neither," Tauriel murmured, although she could not quite picture the Dwarves voluntarily handing over a deadly weapon to an Elf. Well, it looked as if she was about to find out whether she was right about that or not.
They followed their guide through throngs of people to a long, flat building not too far from Dáin's mansion in the center of the town. Unsurprisingly, the armory was a busy place indeed that day. Still, their guide managed to weave past clusters of Dwarves and took them to a stall manned by someone whose face Tauriel was not entirely unfamiliar with.
In front of a rack of chain mail and breastplates, the Dwarf who had brought her that first tankard of ale the night before was waiting for them. After the turn last night's feast had taken, she was a little surprised to find him up and about so early in the day, but then again, the whole town appeared to be on its feet. After some brief instructions, the Dwarf who had brought them here took off, leaving them in the care of his older kinsman.
He mustered them all with narrowed eyes which grew even more pinched when his gaze came to settle on Tauriel.
"Gnýr, at your service. Even though, in your case, I confess myself not sure what that means. 'S not as if any of those will fit you."
He waved a hand towards the pieces of armor behind him, which, true to his word, were quite distinctly fashioned for the bodies of Dwarves, not Elves.
"Do not trouble yourself on my behalf," Tauriel said. "I am quite prepared to ride into battle as I am."
She had meant to reassure the old Dwarf, for whom she harbored a strange fondness after drinking with him the night before. His glare suggested that she had achieved the opposite.
"As you are? And have it be known that old Gnýr is not capable of serving his customers any more? I'll not have you ruin my reputation, Elf!"
As Tauriel raised her hands in a placating gesture, she noticed Kíli and Ruari shaking with laughter beside her. Illoyal buggers.
After much grumbling and cursing, Gnýr did end up finding her a chainmail shirt which was tight enough to be worn under the outer layer of her own—borrowed—clothing. A pair of gauntlets to protect her arms was much more easily acquired. The biggest discussion ensued about a helmet, with Tauriel insisting that she didn't need one and Gnýr spiraling into a rant about how he would not be responsible for her 'ridiculously flimsy skull' (his words, that) getting cracked open. She relented, eventually, and tucked the heavy helmet under her arm with no real intention to wear it very often.
Visibly relieved to have them out of his hair, Gnýr sent them over to where weapons were being handed out.
"Ah." Ruari made a strangled sound and stopped dead in his tracks before they had reached their destination. Following his gaze, Tauriel quickly determined the cause for his trepidation: a few yards ahead, Ruari's companion from the night before was currently arguing about the properties of a massive, double-bladed axe with another Dwarf.
Sharing a grin with Kíli over the top of Ruari's head, Tauriel nudged him against his shoulder. "Well, at least on this next part of our journey you, too, will have someone to keep you warm at night."
To her surprise, Ruari did not rise to the bait. "He won't come. Bjórr's not a fighter."
Taken aback, Tauriel looked again at the fair-haired dwarf with his tall build and muscular arms, the picture of a warrior. But then again, unlike his brethren, he was sporting neither armor nor weapons. Instead, he wore a blacksmith's leather apron over his clothes.
"All the more reason to spend some time with him now." Kíli elbowed Ruari in the back, causing him to stumble forward.
The beginnings of a curse spilled from Ruari's lips and Tauriel was confident that he would have throttled Kíli for his insolence had Bjórr not spotted them at that very moment and raised a hand in greeting. His shoulders slumping in defeat, Ruari waved back, muttered something about how he would rather have faced the dragon himself and headed over to where Bjórr was waiting. Kíli and Tauriel followed at a somewhat safe distance, lest the meeting between the two Dwarves should proceed in a similarly passionate manner as their reunion the night before.
It did not, in fact, and Tauriel found herself wondering about what might have happened between the two after they had left yesterday's feast. For whatever that had been, it now made Ruari shift uncomfortably on the spot whenever Bjórr so much as glanced at him, his face having taken on a permanent, dark shade of red.
Kíli's hand found its way to the small of her back as he gently steered her towards a table where a selection of blades had been laid out. "Come on, let's get this over with as swiftly as possible. I don't know how much more of this—" he nodded towards the pair of Dwarves, who were still treating one another with suspicious politeness, "I can take without going over there to knock their heads together."
With a chuckle, Tauriel followed him. Choosing their weapons was indeed a swift affair. The heavy broadswords the Dwarves favored were no good match for Tauriel's more agile style of fighting and among the slim pickings of shorter, lighter blades, she quickly found two matching, curved ones that would serve her just fine. Considering that she would never have expected to be granted a choice of weapons at all, she had nothing to complain about.
Kíli took a little longer weighing a selection of swords in his hands and taking experimental swings. While he muttered about things like heft, air resistance, and skull-cleaving potential, Tauriel went back to watching Ruari and Bjórr. To an outsider it might have looked as if they were merely comparing the properties of different axes, but Tauriel saw how they stood a little closer than strictly necessary, noticed how the back of Bjórr's hand would brush against Ruari's when he lifted it to point out something on the handle of one of the weapons before them, watched how a slow blush crept up Ruari's neck at the innocent brush of skin against skin.
She had never harbored any particular interest to involve herself in the private affairs of those around her, but apparently that was what you got for forming a bond for life with a group of strangers. And now she could not help but wonder about the history between Ruari and Bjórr and why it left her normally so steadfast friend a nervous wreck. She was so absorbed in watching Ruari try and fail to act confident and detached that she had not noticed Kíli leaving the area where the blades were on display until he returned to her side with a glint in his eye and two bows tucked under his arm. She inhaled sharply when he pressed one of them into her hands.
"These are probably not quite up to your standard and will need some work while we are on the road," he said apologetically. "Archery is not an overly common skill among my people, so there wasn't as big a selection as for all the other weapons."
Tauriel shifted her grip on the bow, wrapping her fingers around the sturdy, carved handle. It was true that the weapon would need some work—a new string, to begin with. Also it was both shorter and less flexible than what she was used to, things she would need to familiarize herself with if she wanted her aim to remain true. Still, the bow was, in its own right, beautiful.
"Thank you," she said, touched that Kíli had found this for her.
Kíli ran his finger down the carvings on the bow, stopping just above where her hand was still wrapped around it. "I did not think you—and myself, for that matter—should head into battle without our preferred weapon."
She loosened her grip to trap his fingers between hers without releasing the bow. "May that bring us luck, then."
He clocked his head to the side, his gaze fixed on their joined hands on the dark, polished wood of the weapon. His voice was a little horse when he spoke. "Aye. May that be so."
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
They left the armory soon after, Ruari gripping a magnificent, gleaming axe in his hands and his head ducked with the sort of helpless embarrassment that seemed to cling to him since the previous evening. Outside, the town was still in motion, though the streams of Dwarves marching through the alleys were thinning out somewhat. Many must have already made their way outside the city walls, where Dáin's army was gathering. From Bjórr they had learned that they were to camp there for the night while the generals formed their units and begin their march to Erebor at first light.
"We should head out there as well. Whatever plans Dáin and his generals hatch, we ought to be in the loop for them." Kíli did not look overly enthusiastic at his own suggestion and Tauriel could not fault him for it. She, too, would have preferred another night in the comforts of their own quarters, but he was right, of course. They had set this scheme in motion and now they ought to try and stay somewhat in control of it.
Although, judging from what little she knew of Ironfoot, that might prove one of their toughest challenges yet.
They agreed to return to their rooms only briefly to fetch what they had left behind of their meager belongings. On their way, Ruari remained uncharacteristically silent, all but dragging his feet. Kíli, too, was quiet, but Tauriel saw him sneak the occasional gaze at his fellow Dwarf. Finally, when they rounded the last corner before arriving at the doors to Dáin's house, Kíli stopped abruptly and turned to face Ruari.
"I am unsure whether this needs to be said or not, but I want you to know that you are under no obligation to me. If you want to stay here in Hammerstead instead of rushing into what will most likely be a war, you are free to do so. I won't hold it against you."
Tauriel, eyes fixed on Kíli rather than Ruari, felt her heart melt into a puddle in behalf of this young Dwarf, who, even after every terrible thing they had lived through, had not lost the ability to believe that there were things worth living for beyond the struggle they had gotten themselves tied up in. If Ruari wanted to stay for the one he so obviously, albeit grudgingly, cared about, Kíli would not let this affect the bond weeks in captivity and on the run had forged between them. Ingolf and Suri had made a similar choice, after all, and just because Ruari was a Dwarf, that did not mean he was obliged to follow Kíli to wherever this would all end.
Still, when Ruari looked in exasperation at Kíli and Tauriel realized that he would not accept his offer, she felt relieved. She was not quite ready to let go of another part of her small family just yet. After all, hadn't they come so very far together already?
"Are ye trying to get rid of me?" Ruari asked Kíli with narrowed eyes. "Because it sure sounds like you are. Want to reap all the glories of battle for yourself, hm?"
Kíli's smile was unaffected. Like Tauriel, he was not fooled by Ruari's brusque words. He moved forward to clasp Ruari's shoulder. "In fact I would be more than grateful to have you at my side, looking out for me."
"Good. Knowing you, you're going to need it."
Eyes suspiciously bright, Ruari cast a last look in the rough direction of the armory before leading them down the side of the building to the entrance. The doors were wide open, Dwarves busy carrying all manner of things from the house and out into the streets. When Ironfoot went to war, Tauriel concluded, he did not do it by half measures.
They made it up to their rooms without being held up. There was not much they had brought and thus not much to collect now. In the bedroom she had shared with Kíli, Tauriel dressed in the clothes she had left behind in her hurry this morning, donning layer upon layer, including the new items of protective armor Gnýr had found for her. Except the helmet, of course.
The bow Kíli had given her had come with a quiver and arrows. This went on her back, over her coat. For her blades Bjórr had retrieved a broad leather belt. It wasn't entirely comfortable, but with its help she could secure the two curved swords to the small of her back, as she preferred to do. Catching a glimpse of herself in the heavily adorned mirror at the far side of the room, she decided that while she looked a bit odd in her mismatched items of clothing and weapons, she was no less ready for battle than any of the Dwarves she had seen in the streets today.
"Ready?"
Kíli had been handed complete sets of both clothes and armor by Gnýr and would thus be leaving most of the garments he had brought from Rhûn behind. When Tauriel addressed him, he was rifling through the pockets of his old shirt until a familiar stone slipped from one of them. Kíli caught it in his palm and stowed it away somewhere underneath all the padding which Dwarven armor appeared to involve. He shrugged, any self-consciousness over his sentimental attachment to the small token long since a thing of the past.
"Now I'm ready." He turned from side to side, his arms outstretched. "How do I look?"
"Like the warrior you are," Tauriel returned without even the slightest hint of teasing. Because it was true. And if the sight of her usually somewhat rumpled companion dressed for battle with his hair pulled back to keep it out of his face did some very interesting things to her heart rate—well, that was her sweet secret to keep.
With a slow exhale, Kíli patted down the front of his uniform. "Let's hope this translates onto the battlefield, then."
Tauriel took this as her cue to get going, but before she could reach the doorway connecting their bedchamber to the common room, Kíli's hand closed around her wrist, turning her around to face him. She huffed a startled laugh as he crowded her against the wall, his body pressing into hers as he tipped his head back to claim her lips in a kiss. His mouth slanted across hers, tongue dipping between her welcoming lips. The grip of his hands, with one having found its way to the small of her back while the other had slid around her neck to cup the back of her head, was decidedly possessive. Tauriel leaned into his touch with a soft moan.
"What was that for?" she asked a little breathlessly when they pulled apart.
Kíli's lips, when they pulled into a smile, shimmered wetly in the small amount of daylight which filtered through the heavy curtains. "I don't expect to have much opportunity to do this in the days to come. So. One for the road, I suppose."
Tauriel quirked an eyebrow. "Don't people usually mean having another drink when they say that?"
Kíli shrugged. "You taste better than the finest wine or most expensive mead ever could."
Her reply was cut off by him kissing her again, briefer, but no less deep than before.
"Whatever it is you two think of doing in there, I will not sit out here and listen to it. Either you come out right this second, or I'll be heading down to the camp on my own."
Ruari's petulant voice echoed through the closed door and they broke apart with a chuckle.
"That's rich coming from someone who has been trundling about like a lovesick puppy almost since the very moment we set foot in this town," Kíli called back. He released his hold onto her and stepped back, adjusting his clothing.
After sharing a knowing grin, they went through to the common room, where Ruari was waiting for them with a sour expression on his face.
"Call me a puppy again and I'll chew your leg off."
Kíli laughed, but did quicken his step when Ruari growled at him as he passed by him on his way to the door. A fond smile playing around her lips as she followed the two bickering Dwarves into the corridor, Tauriel paused with a hand on the door jamb.
A final look around the room revealed nothing that could not be left behind—they had been here for too short an amount of time to make memories that would make it painful to leave. She pulled the door shut behind her. Time to look ahead, rather than back.