Thorin awoke and heard someone moaning. It took a moment to realize it was him. The mid-day sun caused him to squint and cover sensitive eyes with his arm although moving it was pure wretched agony. The wagon was bumping along and he was sure the driver looked for holes.
"You in your right mind?"
Thorin turned his head towards the voice and saw Dwalin riding his pony beside the wagon. "How many days have I lain here like a raw side of pork and out of my head?"
"Well, other than a couple trips over the side ye don't remember, this is the fourth day. We are nearing the bend in the river and must decide if we are taking the longer route by the sea or cut across land until picking up the Redwater and crossing the smaller stream feeding it; although all major rivers will be high with spring runoff."
Thorin groaned. "Some leader I am; riding like a dwarfling when I should be scouting and making decisions. Are they listening to you and Óin?"
Dwalin paused trying to decide how truthful to be. "We are doing fine and making good time. Land is thawing and soon we might be bogging down wagon wheels. Grass is growing on south slopes and we will have streams and ponds for water should we cut two hundred miles off our route."
Thorin read the hesitation and deflection. "You're in charge, Dwalin. You don't listen; you command."
"I'm not good at it, like you," Dwalin grumbled. "Some of the dwarves are listening to Fræg's accounting, which has grown each day and starting to think we are servants of Sauron."
Thorin snarled and attempted to sit up, but his weakness won. "When is the last time I've had any food?"
"That half cooked rabbit four days ago."
"Any sign we are being pur..sued…..uhhh?" Thorin ended the last word with a hitch as the wagon hit a bump.
Dwalin shook his head.
"I need food and preferably something hot."
Dwalin grinned his approval and kicked to pony to the front and raised his hand for them to halt.
Óin, who was taking point for a break from the wagon, raced to them. "I leave for one minute an ye can't control one kingling?" he yelled at Dwalin.
"The kingling wants food." Dwalin yelled back so loud several dwarves laughed.
"Mahal be praised, his fever has broke," Óin shouted back as he dismounted.
Dwalin motioned for the caravan to start moving again. He needed a report from his scouts, Bofur and Bifur before lighting fires.
River water was increasingly open and high with melting snows in the mountains, and this far downstream several tributaries already dumped their first offerings. They had to cross the dangerous river if opting for an overland route Dwalin, Nori and Óin favored. Bofur and Bifur liked the idea of a longer route where the river was said to split into many channels near the sea for easier crossing.
Bofur stopped his pony on a rise and looked at the bend in the river he was told to go and find. "You know, Bifur, we should have crossed when the river was frozen. What was Thorin thinking?"
"He was thinking safety," Bifur reminded him. "With Thorin injured, Dwalin is thinking speed and getting us to the mountain and help for Thorin. But you are right; we will never make it across this. I think the decision has been made for us by Queen Yavanna."
They turned their ponies back and Bofur muttered, "Dwalin isn't going to be happy."
They covered the two miles swiftly and noticed Dwalin was back in the lead and Óin in the wagon. Nori was sent by Dwalin twenty miles downstream and would return in two days with a long term report.
Pulling up, Bofur asked Dwalin, "How is he?"
"Hungry. I hope you have good news."
The cousin's exchanged smiles and Bifur answered. "Aye, about two miles is a meadow with hills for protection an ah few trees an also ah stream dumping into the river teaming with fish escaping the muddy spring melted waters."
"Tell Óin that is our destination," Dwalin ordered. "I think we can have fires tonight. I'm tired of listening to the dams complain eating hard tack and jerky is just wrong when they have potatoes, carrots and fresh meat we've provided."
Bofur, who had fallen in beside Dwalin asked, "Do you think we should rest one or two days? There is good food on the hills for the animals."
"I'll know by night if we stay or keep going," Dwalin replied, noncommitting until he saw the area.
Dwalin instructed the wagons form a large oval around the edge of the meadow and heard cheers when fires were allowed. He inspected the stream and saw fish dart away from his shadow. Soon nets were catching the evening's meal and sounds of frying fish sizzling in pans was offset by the mouthwatering aromas of stew and pan bread.
Thorin was helped from the wagon and after tending personal needs, sat on a log dragged to the fire by Dóvad's wagon. His aides this evening consisted of Bofur and Óin and he tried to hide his growing discomfort for their sakes.
Óin checked his burns and attempted to keep his face neutral, but he knew the herbs only stayed the infection and it would return until his limited assortment of was ineffective or depleted. He needed to be in the mountain where he could scrub the skin off Thorin and had a larger assortment of medicines. He hoped his cousin didn't die before then, but secretly didn't see how they would make it in time, even if they cut across the rolling hills that consisted of the plains of the Rhûn. He wiped the chest with cool wet cloths he now kept boiled and clean. As fast as he discarded a used rag, one of the dams would take it for washing and already had a cauldron with roiling water and he instructed to boil them for ten minutes or longer. Once cleaned, they were dropped in another pan for storage. It was this pan; Óin used tongs to fetch clean cloths.
Thorin sat detached, and let his mind drift to the mountain and what was happening in his absence. It helped with the searing pain Óin was inflicting on him.
"Can ye stand ah shirt?"
Thorin looked up into the eyes of the asker, Óin, who was now holding a lightweight cotton shirt he knew was loose on him, and nodded. He was fighting, but felt life slipping away due to dreaded infection and damage way beyond anything Azog inflicted. He didn't want his Company to know, but saw the truth in Óin's eyes and touch. He wanted to say words of comfort to his cousin, but now wasn't the time or place. Instead, he uttered in a tone that sounded forced to his ears, "Awe, this is better. Now I don't feel like a newborn." He let his eyes roam absent-mindedly over the older dams and focused on Lióni, who studiously avoided his eyes or assisted the others with his care. He frowned at her haughtiness and addressed her father. "I thank you for the use of your wagon. I won't be needing, as I'm well enough to sleep on the ground." He let his eyes drift back to the lass. He saw her slender body dressed in typical dwarrow clothing everyone wore in public; her light hair framing high cheekbones, a delicate nose and lips…" He tried to remember where he was and the task his father set before him. Now that he wouldn't live to take a wife, the idea didn't sound so bad.
"Hhhrrrmmmppp," Óin cleared his throat loudly, reminding Thorin he was at a fireside waiting for his supper. "Don't get cocky, Thorin. You are jacked up on Mescalshroom. Remember the mischief ye got in when ye were accidently given too much? Ye aren't acting that bad right now, but aren't yerself." He turned to Dóvad, "Keep his spot open. He just thinks he is recovered."
Thorin realized what Óin referred to and groaned. "What have I done this time? I haven't stabbed anyone, have I? And for the record, I apologized to Bilbo."
Óin threw back his head and laughed, joined by Dwalin. "Nay, Thorin, ye just propositioned the lass here." He threw a wink in Lióni's direction.
"No…" Thorin's mouth dropped open and his head whipped to where she was standing. Now her avoidance made sense and his strange unnatural affection towards her. "What did I do, lass?"
Lióni raised her head proudly. "Just ordered me to strip and join you."
The Company howled in laughter, hearing the details for the first time.
"Wait until your father hears this one," Dwalin joked in Sindarin.
"He will say, you have chosen your One and he won't need to interview the other lasses," Óin threw out in broken Sindarin, causing those who understood laugh.
The listening dwarves couldn't understand and Thorin ended the teasing. "Forgive us. They were being rather vulgar and didn't wish the dams and lass to hear two Durin's act like common low bred uncouth orcs." Amidst chuckles from his kin and Company, he motioned for a plate of food and attempted to eat, but his hands were shaking and weak.
"Can I get you something else, King Thorin?" Lári asked when his third attempt to hold a fork failed.
"I am trained to endure physical discomfort. My injuries sustained in the last battle had me accepting help for two weeks and it would have been much long had the elves not used their sorcery. I would appreciate greatly a helping hand."
"Lióni," her father barked. "Ye can assist him." He jumped in before one of Thorin's group volunteered and was relieved they kept eating.
Lióni almost whined, "Why me?" and looked to the dams. They were avoiding looking at her. With a sigh, she rose and went to him, mindful of his last words to her. Taking the fork she scooped fish into his mouth. By the third bite he shook his head. She reached for the bowl of stew and he ate two more bites.
"I've had enough, lass." She gathered his dishes when he added, "Thank you, and I am sorry for any distress I caused you. It is never my intent to hurt a lass or dam."
The Company went silent, listening, more concerned Thorin was already done than his apology to a lass. They knew Thorin hadn't eaten since that rabbit days before and he should be gobbling fish as fast as the lass could get the fork to his mouth. Óin set his plate on the ground and grabbed his herb pouch. Everyone watched him dip the cup into the boiling water and using fingers pinched from three bags into the cup. Using his knife that all dwarves carry, he mixed and set it down to cool.
Thorin was starting to hurt and the discomfort he felt in his chest since rising was constricting his breathing. His chest wouldn't expand and he couldn't get enough air in causing him to panic. He knew the scabs needed to be broken before he suffocated. Catching Dwalin's eye, he motioned him over. Through gritted teeth, he whispered in his ear.
The warrior knew sometimes to help, one had to hurt. "Do you want to get back in the wagon first?"
"Now," Thorin begged. "It tightened fast." He struggled out of his shirt with Dwalin's help.
By the time the Company and those at Dóvad's wagon registered what Dwalin was going to do, it was over.
"Mahal, ye could have warned me," Óin screamed and rushed to Thorin's side. Blood was flowing freely and he was gasping, both in pain and drawing in life saving air.
Dóvad was shocked. He hadn't seen a dwarf maim another since the war. He looked to the females and they were equally stunned. When Risári would move to the king, he laid a hand on her arm and shook his head. "Let them tend their own." They turned back to the front row seat they had, watched and listened.
Óin looked at flowing blood mingled with puss and the stench of infection wafted to the noses of the Company, who forgot their food and gathered around their prince. "Dwalin, did ye think Thorin hasn't enough exposure ta infection?"
"It was that or watch him die in the next few minutes," Dwalin defended. "He couldn't draw breath."
Mollified, Dwalin hadn't joined the forces of Sauron, Óin took a handful of sterile cloths and pressed to stanch the flow. Soon, all the Company had a cloth to Thorin's chest. With everyone concentrating on Thorin, even the guards, they missed the tall, silent figure walk into their midst until a guard cried, "Hey, that's the wizard."
The camp roused from their supper as word spread from camp to camp the wizard found them.
Dóvad reached for his axe, cursing the Durin's for placating the dams with fires that could be seen for miles.
Dwalin, Bofur and Bifur dropped their cloths in favor of weapons, as the wizard, end of staff tapping the ground with each step moved in their direction. The fire lit his face and the Company visibly relaxed, lowering weapons and hand signaling for everyone to do likewise.
Warriors gathered around to face this foe and the army he surely traveled with. They looked in the dark, but it remained serine and nothing moved in the moonlight.
Gandalf quickly approached Thorin and took a knee. "I came as swiftly as I could, Thorin," he said gently and let his hand rest on Thorin's thigh for comfort.
"Can ye help him? You know, like the elves do?" Bofur asked, recovering from his shock at seeing their wizard friend.
"No, I'm limited in healing abilities. He has to go to the elves." He looked at the burns and now slices vertically from collar bones to his belly.
"That will take too much time. He won't make such ah long trip," Óin protested and for the first time the others heard the doom pronounced on Thorin.
"The Great Eagles brought me and are on the hill." Gandalf pointed in a direction. He saw relief in the eyes of those who understood. "I'm taking him to Lothlórien."
"No," Thorin protested, drawing all eyes to him. "Lord Celeborn is adamant no dwarves enter his realm and I won't risk war with him." He switched to Sindarin lest Gandalf spill their secret. "We haven't told anyone my father lives. They think I am king."
"I see," Gandalf looked around and spotted Dóvad with three obvious females, although they sported beards.
Lióni kept her agreement and donned her beard when the intruder first appeared.
"Thorin, the healers in Lothlórien are some of the finest and the lady also has healing powers. I could take you to Thranduil, but you might end back in his dungeon and that would cause war."
"Take me to Elrond if I must choose," Thorin requested.
"Clear to Rivendell?" Óin was flabbergasted and it was apparent in his disbelieving tone.
With each sentence, Dóvad's list of questions grew. He knew of these elves and their locations from his time in the war, but also knew the distance was hundreds of miles from their current location.
"Who will lead this group of Longbeards if you aren't here?" Gandalf asked and shifted so Óin could bind long strips of cloth around Thorin's chest.
"Dwalin," was Thorin's tired reply. He looked down at the pool of blood that now soaked his pants and knew his situation went from bad to worse and he hadn't much time. He would like to see the lads before he died and his father again. "Take me home, Gandalf. Let me die in Erebor if we don't make it to the elves."
Without hesitation, Gandalf reached in his own leather bag slung over his shoulder and dug something out and put it in Thorin's mouth. "Eat this," he ordered. At Óin's questioning look, he explained. "Elven medicine. It will slow his functions down to a crawl and allow me to get him to Erebor. Erestor is there and has healing skills as you have witnessed. When we stabilize him, I'll have the eagles fly him and Erestor over the mountains to Rivendell. Elrond is his best hope." He looked at Óin and Dwalin and included Bofur and Bifur.
"I have Mescalshroom," Óin offered. At Gandalf's nod, he quickly set about fixing another cup. He noticed the first cup he prepared was now cold, so tossed it and started anew.
"How come yer here?" Dwalin asked for everyone. He noticed several Longbeard leaders gathered around to see for themselves a wizard. A few of the old ones remembered Gandalf from when he married Thráin to Lis.
"I was on top of Redhorn Pass when the wizard attacked Thorin. The elves and I fought back and by morning Gwaihir and Landroval were overhead and according to them, they were sent from Lord Manwë, who rarely involves himself directly in the affairs of Middle Earth. They gave me a lift; first to Caras Galadhon to consult with the lord and lady of the Galadhrim and then I flew east looking for you."
"Did you fly over the Sea of Rhûn?" Bifur asked.
"We flew just north, but could see it to the south. I was looking for orcs, Easterlings and of course the malevolent wizard who did this to Thorin. I flew over Nori just as he was setting up a camp for the night. I stopped and he directed me up the river to here and is heading back in the morning."
"Good, I need him close," Dwalin stated, happy to hear Nori was doing well.
"We haven't a clue what is happening at Mordor. I'm taking Thorin to Erebor and returning here. I've already instructed my horse, Shadowfax, to come and he is running across open spaces as I speak. I will lead you to Erebor." He saw relief on Dwalin's face and smiled. "But, Dwalin, you are more than capable of leading. I am present to thwart evil, not settle petty grievances among dwarves. They have three Durin's still here for that." He looked fondly at Bofur and Bifur and added, "And two of the finest lords to carry the title."
"What about Fræg?" Bofur asked. "He is the reason Thorin is in bad shape. If he hadn't run from us and led us into that swarm of Easterlings, Thorin would be healthy. Can he go on the back of an eagle so we aren't tempted to drown him in the river?"
Gandalf soberly pondered the situation. "He will have to ride by himself and better not try anything or his trip with be clutched in the talons of Landroval." He had a thought. "Stay here until I return. This is a good place and there is a band of bison two hills to the south for fresh meat. I'm going to round up more Great Eagles and we will carry everything across the river and make a straight line to Erebor. That will take weeks off your river route."
"Is there water?" Óin asked, trumpet still planted in his ear. "The animals need water."
"When you traveled east, did you see water?" Gandalf challenged.
"There was snow and we melted it for water," Dwalin answered and saw where Gandalf was going with his question. "The snow is melting and forming puddles and ponds. Besides the bison need water and we saw massive herds. Thorin liked the safety of trees that line the river should we be attacked. There is extensive plains on the route you suggest."
"There is plenty of water this time of year," Gandalf assured them. He looked down at Thorin, who was asleep, chin on his damaged chest.
"Sir, this is Lord Fræg." A guard led the shacked dwarf to the wizard.
Gandalf rose to his full height and saw fear in the face of the one he wanted to punish for stupidity. "You will come with us," he ordered sternly. "I warn you; if you give the Great Eagles any trouble you'll make the trip in their sharp talons."
"I don't understand why I must be taken to this mountain at all or in chains. I gave my word I'll not try and escape. I learned my lesson," Fræg complained to the only presence that he had yet to air his complaints since leaving Jötunheim.
"You will understand in time." Gandalf spun and let out a whistle. "Clear the area," he ordered and everyone moved way back when the largest birds they ever saw glided in and landed. The Company greeted the eagles and Gandalf gave instructions. "Gwaihir, once again I am placing Thorin Oakenshield in your protective care. I need you to carry us to Erebor, and Landroval, I need you to take Lord Fræg. He is the one who must answer..." he trailed off before saying the king.
A massive white head with large intelligent eyes looked at Fræg. "You will be more comfortable on my back."
"They talk?" An astounded Dóvad asked and with his son Tóvad at his side, approached the large carrions.
Gandalf looked to Dwalin, who made introductions. When done, Gandalf motioned to the eagles.
Landroval carefully scooped Thorin in his talons while Bofur ran up with Orchrist and a small bag of personal items. Everyone watched in awe as Gandalf took the items and jumped with alacrity that belied his outward appearance of an elderly man onto Gwaihir's back and accepted Thorin from Landroval's talons, as he hovered over his brother for a moment. He crouched and with smiles of evil glee, Bifur and Bofur snagged Fræg by each arm and tossed him onto the back of the Great Eagle. Without waiting to see if his charge was settled, Landroval took flight, followed by Gwaihir.
Dóvad and the Longbeard lords gathered around Dwalin and Óin. "Ye left out parts of yer story," Dóvad accused.
Dwalin and Óin exchanged glances and the later asked in Sindarin, "Now that Thorin and Fræg are gone, should we prepare them?"
Bofur spoke up in the same language, "I say we don't until Gandalf returns and gives us advice."
The Company nodded and Dwalin addressed Dóvad, "It is a long story and we wait permission to say more."
"Come, lass, help clean the wagon so it can be put back the way it was," Lári instructed her daughter.
"Without a sound or protest, Lióni joined her. She hadn't spoken to her mother or grandmother since their outbursts against her, although she performed any task they issued.
"Well, are you satisfied these Durin's are on our side?" Lári asked as she folded thick bedding Thorin laid on.
Lióni remained apathetically silent as she worked. She didn't want to agree with her mother, but Thorin's injuries were real and she had a thought she may never see him again and that strangely disturbed her. She thought back to the time they were outside on the mountain and his deep voice which wasn't supercilious or piqued she was disturbing his private meditation. She knew her affront at his fevered suggestion was exaggerated and she wasn't half as offended as she pretended. No, she acknowledged, it was her mother and grandmother's attitudes that angered her. They would have bartered her off like the other dams did their daughters and granddaughters and that was what was troubling her. That and her brother was treated like a lord's son among the warriors, including Durin's guards, while she was regarded as a lass, good for nothing except birthing dwarflings and washing dishes. Her dreams were vanishing with each step closer to Erebor. She would talk with Dwalin for she heard Bofur make a crack to Nori to hurry or the General would be angry. It was when Dwalin ordered Nori to scout miles down the river and when he left, he threw a mock salute to Dwalin and stated, 'I'm off your Generalship.'
With a sigh, Lári gave up trying to engage her. "Go and wash dishes; I'll finish here."
Shortly Dóvad sidled to wagon's edge and spoke quietly, "Did ye have that talk with her?"
"No, she is still giving me the cold shoulder. We have a long ways to go and will mend our spat before journey's end."
Tóvad is easy compared to her," Dóvad admitted. "I'm sure that's why Mahal gave us more sons than daughters. We couldn't handle more than one at ah time."
Lári shook her finger playfully at him and he grinned at the reaction he was looking for.