A warbling whistle that carried far over spring grasslands poured forth from Gandalf's puckered lips. He knew his faithful horse, Shadowfax, was close. At the head of the slow moving wagons, he walked and looked. Then he saw the majestic white animal top a rise and stop in the morning sun; his beauty bringing exclamations of admiration from those who spotted him. With a hand held up to stop the procession, all waited for the wizard to greet the horse. They watched as he effortlessly, with speed and agility that belied the appearance of an aged man, vaulted upon the bare back when with a welcome neigh, the steed ran to him. With no reins to guide the beast, he rode up and down the line showing him off and telling everyone his name was Shadowfax and not to approach him because he was wild.
Lióni trekked just behind her father, who was riding one of the few ponies they brought. She didn't mind being on foot. No, her largest complaint was the still chilly nights and spring thermal winds that whipped her hated beard. She glared at the back of the wizard, who now was riding just ahead of her father; leading like he was in charge and overseeing every decision with his pedantic ways. If not for him, she wouldn't be wearing her fake beard, but she did agree. She caught something out of the corner of her eye and whipped her head to the left. Bofur raced his pony across the plains and joined Gandalf. They started talking, but she was too far behind the lead ponies to hear what Bofur was telling the wizard.
"Bofur, how far ahead did you scout?"
"About five miles, Gandalf. Far in the distance are dark shapes that aren't bison. My guess is a band of orcs is traveling south to Mordor."
"Gwaihir did warn us. Call a meeting of the Company and Lords."
Bofur raised a horn to his lips and gave one blast. Soon the hoof beats of ponies racing caught attention of everyone in the slow moving caravan. The Company raced to the front and Bofur turned and motioned for Dóvad and lords of the Longbeards to join them. The word orc carried clearly and was passed along the line to the rear and parents were seen to be calling for dwarflings that wandered from the caravan to play and explore back to safety.
Gandalf raised his hand and they came to a halt. He spoke and gestured and the Company split and rode down each side of the wagons confirming that a band of orcs was a few miles from them.
"We will keep moving," Óin called from his mount.
Beside him, Nori called his own instructions. "All able bodied dwarrow arm up an keep the dwarflings close. We don't want any ta get picked off."
"We won't camp tonight, but keep moving in the light of ah full moon," Bifur hollered over the creaking wagons and they rode down the long line repeating their instructions.
Lióni slipped into her father's personal wagon he was allotted for being Lord of the Blacklocks. She strapped on her armor and dug weapons from under duffels filled with personal clothing. Armed, she dropped off the back and went in search of a band to join with. She knew few ever saw her bearded and she could merge with one of the Longbeard units.
Nori sat his pony on the tallest point and watched the yellow moon grow in the east. Gandalf called a halt to let the draft animals rest and eat for a couple hours. Supper that night would be jerky and water. No fires were allowed.
Across from him, Bofur likewise chewed a strip of dried meat from the back of his pony and looked into the night for moving shadows now that the moon chose to join them. So far all was still. He looked to his right and could just make out the form of Bifur, but at the tail end of the caravan, Óin blended into the night. Nor could he make Dwalin, who was at point, out. In between, on foot, were the warriors from Jötunheim. Their guards were mounted and spaced closer to the wagons and dwarrowdams and young.
Gandalf watched as one by one, dwarflings nodded off and were placed in wagons atop supplies. Only the very old were also helped back into wagons designed to carry them and he motioned for Dwalin to get them moving.
The moon turned from buttery to icy white and the animals plodded through the night. The only sounds were hooves and an occasional squeaky wheel.
Dawn broke and the wagons were still moving. Gandalf called halt and told everyone to sleep for a few hours. As tired bodies settled under wagons, he motioned for Dwalin and Nori to accompany him. Gandalf took them about half a mile from where dwarrows were unhitching animals and Bofur setting watch.
"Where do you think they are?" Dwalin asked as he stifled a yawn.
Gandalf smiled fondly down upon him. "They are keeping out of our way for some reason. And that is bad. Normally orcs would risk death to steal what is in our group, both dwarves and food. He pointed at a spot just ahead and they kicked their mounts until standing over a clearly defined path of orc shoes.
"Looks ta be about fifty of the beggars," Nori commented. They looked at tracks in the dirt that crossed their path.
Gandalf soberly led them back to the assembly and told them to get some sleep; he would keep watch. While the camp slumbered and watch changed every two hour for three shifts, Gandalf pondered what the orcs could be doing.
Three more times they spotted orcs in the far distance and each time were allowed to pass unmolested. Three weeks of travel at a cautious pace had them standing at the banks of the River Running. Gandalf called for a meeting of Dóvad, his family and the lords. "Not far to the north is the confluence of the Redwater," Gandalf stated as he pointed in a direction. "We can either cross here and make for the road that runs along the east side of Mirkwood or turn north to the Iron Hills."
"What is the benefit of either?" Dóvad asked while the Company listened.
Gandalf gave careful thought before replying. "If we continue west to the road, should the orcs that are trailing us attack; we can make for safety inside the forest. The River Redwater doesn't run straight like the Running and we won't make good time. My advice is to cross here. Also, there is a bridge further upstream where the Old Forest Road exits Mirkwood."
"How will we cross?" Óin asked as he looked across the wide river with its spring melt off raising waters to dangerous levels. He was sure undertows and eddies would take souls.
"We will camp here and I'll send word to the eagles," Gandalf stated. "I'm sure your dwarrowdams could use a rest before the next part of the journey."
"Aye, we could," Risári spoke for her family. "This is a good place to wait. Plenty of firewood and shelter from those pesky orcs."
Gandalf favored her with a smile. "It is settled."
"Wait a minute," Dóvad blustered and cast a glare at his mother-in-law. "I should think more discussion is warranted.
"I say let the wizard choose," Risári snapped back. "It is done."
Gandalf scanned the skies for anything flying that he could summons. In the distance he spotted a hawk hunting for mice and mentally hailed for an audience. Everyone watched in fascination as a hunter of the skies drifted in their direction and to their astonishment landed on the wizard's outstretched sleeve. "I need your help, little one. Fly to the Great Eagles and tell them the dwarves from the Rhûn require assistance and we are just south of the joining of rivers that flow from the Iron Hills and Misty Mountains. And then stop by my fellow helper in the woods by Rhosgobel and tell him I am getting close to the eastern wall of trees that protect the secrets of Mirkwood. And don't worry; Radagast communes with animals much better than I. He will understand every cry from your beak." He tossed the hawk into the air and watched him swiftly flap his wings and in seconds was out of sight.
Dóvad looked around until spotting his daughter. He motioned for her to join him. "Lass, I have ah wee proposition for ye. If ye help yer mother an grandmother four hours ah day, I'll let ye spend that amount of time standing guard." He saw her face light up and she hugged him hard.
"Agreed." She looked at Gandalf. "Do I have to wear this beard around him?"
"He isn't ah dwarf, so yes," her father laid down the law firmly.
"I had to try," she muttered and went to help the dwarrowdams set their camp.
Lord Fárin paused at the top of Dimrill Stairs and looked at the East Gate, its metal doors shining like a beacon. The battle that raged for all those long years flooded back. He hadn't had a need to come this way since then and the loss of so many, including most of the Durin leadership crashed back upon his shoulders. Wildflowers bloomed in the vibrant green grass that begged to be eaten by his animals, unconcerned a dwarf was trying not to cry.
"So this is where the mighty war of Azanulbizar took place?" Fárin's youngest, Dárin asked as he looked around with interest, not aware his father's heartache.
Fárin sniffed once and ran a sleeve across his eyes. "Aye, this is where the final battle was fought." He pointed to a spot. "King Thrór and many Durin's and mighty soldiers ashes are buried under that mark."
Dárin trotted up the hill and looked at a massive stone with Angerthas Erebor etched in the stone. "Here lies Thrór, king of the dwarves; Prince Frerin son of Prince Thráin II; Lord Náin of the Iron Hills; Lord Fundin of Erebor; Lord Dwili son-in-law of Thráin II; Twelve Generals of the clans and many valiant warriors who fell at the Battle of Azanulbizar." As he read each name, a tear ran from his father's eyes.
"It was like yesterday when the pit was dug an only Durin's laid their own ta rest. I remember Thorin pouring oil an tar over the bodies an lighting it himself. One by one, the highest ranking of the dead were added until ah pile of ash four feet deep was all that remained. Thorin, Balin, Dáin Ironfoot, Dwalin, Óin and his little brother, Glóin, Dori and Nori, all carried the rocks ye see while the eldest Durin alive at the battle, Lord Gróin, stood where I'm standing now an wept. I remember him saying he wasn't ready ta say goodbye ta his older brother, Fundin. Nor would he ever accept they lost the body of Thráin." Slowly Fárin moved to stand beside his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yer brothers fought bravely an only by the grace of Mahal did they go home with me. Ye were just ah young lad an I would see yer eyes light with fire when they spoke of the glory of battle an spin their tales. Son, let me tell ye, there is only grief beyond measure when ye lose that many good souls."
"Is that why ye speak so little of that time?" Dárin asked and watched as his father pulled a rag from his pocket and blew his nose. He was starting to understand the loss his father carried forever in his soul.
"That, an I would like ta see yer cousin, Thorin, give up his quest ta find the dead. A more stubborn Durin, I've never seen in that one."
"How come he never comes ta the White Mountains?" Dárin asked as they made their way back to the trail where the others were almost upon them. They had ridden ahead at Fárin's request. "He always sends Lord Balin."
"Balin is his chief advisor and a word from him is as if Thorin spoke. I remember my time in Erebor when Thráin would speak and everyone acted as if King Thrór gave the order. Also, there were at that time Durin's Folk like Gróin and Fundin who could issue a command and nobody questioned their authority. The mountain was ah sight ta behold in its smooth operating. Only Khazad-dûm housed more dwarves during its pinnacle." He stopped talking when the lead wagons arrived with Lord Teki leading and his aged father, Lord Hepti, riding in the wagon with others of his age.
Teki pointed to the monument, "I remember Lord Rinid, son of the master crafter, Lord Hónid, with his chisels and hands flying over that rock. I never did see it finished." He turned his pony and rode to look and read the in inscription for himself.
As Fárin slowly made his way down the steps cut millennia before by their ancestors, many dwarves climbed the gentle rise to pay respects to the leaders of the greatest battle of their time.
"Learn those names, Arli," Vali, her mother cautioned. "If we are to snag Thorin Oakenshield for you; the way to his heart is through his family. Ask him about them, and listen to his reply. Glean knowledge above the other dimwitted lasses who will be courting him. Show the king that you are his soulmate."
Arli rolled her eyes, but concentrated on memorizing the names to ask her grandfather about. She knew he could shed light upon the names in a way she could remember.
"Okay, Cái, my turn. Question or Command: Who is who is better looking, Thorin Oakenshield or Fili?"
"Command," Cái cheerfully called out. The lasses were walking side by side through the pines near the head of the long caravan that stretched out for a mile, with elves both leading and following in their large wagons.
Asli, the daughter of a lord at Ered Luin and old enough for consideration to marry Thorin, looked around at something to challenge the oldest daughter of Lord Balin. They were close to the same age and quite good friends. "I was hoping you would answer. I would love to be queen over all the dwarves, but Fili is quite a catch also." She spotted her challenge. "See that stream?" When Cái nodded, Asli told her what she wanted. "I want you to take a stone from the creek and throw it at Kili's back."
Cái looked to where Kili was riding his pony not far from them. "Do I have to hit him?"
"Of course, silly. Either that, or you simply answer my question." She smugly smiled.
Cái gave her a dirty look as she adjusted her beard. "I think they are both good looking as only a Durin can be, however, I think Kili is the cutest."
Asli's eyes grew wide. "I never thought of him that way. You don't suppose I could be chosen for him? I don't want to after…." she dropped her tone to a whisper and Cái strained to catch it, "after, his dalliance with an elf."
"Which one do you want?" Cái dropped their silly dwarvish game they played as youngsters.
Asli grew pensive and her face behind the beard blushed. "I like the idea of being queen of all dwarves, but think Fili is a better catch. He is our age, whereas, Thorin is old. I don't want an old husband who will leave me a widow for at least two centuries."
Cái looked sad as she replied, "I understand. It isn't Thorin's fault fate made him work like a slave to provide for us. He is gifted, as Durin's are, and his skills much in demand. They won't find a better blacksmith in all Middle Earth to replace him."
"Cái," a voice called from behind them and they turned to see, Cát, Cái's mother rushing towards them. "Have you seen your sister?"
"No, I thought she was walking with you," Cái covered for her wayward sibling. She knew very well little sister, Bát, was taking a turn as guard near the end of the caravan and not far from the trailing elves. Their mother strictly forbade them have anything to do with elves because she didn't trust them. "I'm sure she will be back by supper. She is almost of age and feeling her freedom."
"Almost doesn't make an adult," Cát sharply retorted.
"She is the same age as Gimli and feels because he is allowed to wander at will, that is her prerogative as well," Cái reasoned.
"She will not run wild like her cousin," Cát vowed. "She will be married proper in a few years and learn to be a lady of worth. Her father spoiled her," she finished her rant and dropped back to complain to Gimli's mother, Gellett.
"The eagles are here," Dwalin called from his lookout position.
"Here we go again," Dóvad muttered under his breath. After four days of sitting, they would be on their way again. He did have to admit the break did them good and the dwarrowdams used the time to make sure everyone was washed and all clothes cleaned. Dwarrow mended anything broken on the wagons and hunted, while keeping a sharp eye out for those trailing orcs.
"Greetings, Lord Mithrandir," Landroval greeted. "Gwaihir just returned from a trip to Taniquetil with a report or he would have come."
"Which route did he fly?" Gandalf questioned and motioned for the eagles to start ferrying wagons loaded with dwarves across the wide river.
"Both ways. He says a large band of dwarves are with Círdan moving east."
Gandalf smiled broadly, "Círdan comes. That is good news. It has been too long since I've seen him. And he better not be going as far as Imladris and stopping or he'll have me to answer to."
"On his return, he flew Caradhras Pass and another band of dwarves should be upon the Golden Wood by now."
"That would be Thráin's brother-in-law, Lord Fárin. He is making excellent time and we should be at the mountain about the same time. I hope Thranduil doesn't give them grief."
"There is a party of men about to enter the Old Forest Road," Landroval added.
The news was welcome. "That would be the first supplies from the south, but why take that route. I would have expected them to cut at the crossing with eight channels and take the road through Gladden Fields on the east side. That's the route they use when going to the Iron Hills." Not getting an answer, Gandalf looked at the progress in moving dwarves. About half were on the other side. He would wait and be the last over. He was surprised to see a dwarf lass standing before him as he spoke with the Great Eagle. "Yes, lass? Lióni isn't it?"
She bobbed her head and cast a glance at the eagle and then back to the wizard. "I don't want to impose, but have heard the tale of the rescue of Thorin Oakenshield and his Company and how they rode for hours on the backs of the eagles." She drew a deep breath. "I should like to ride across the river on this one's back with you."
Gandalf's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "And you shall. I like dwarrowlasses with spunk. Tell me, are you pledged to anyone?"
She looked startled at the question. "My father, Lord Dóvad, was arranging a match when King Thorin arrived and annulled it. He said I was to be taken to the Lonely Mountain and bartered away like chattel."
Gandalf threw back his head and roared. "I doubt Thorin said anything of the kind." He sobered and rose to his full height and towered over her. "I've dealt with Durin's Folk for a long time and their ways of insuring the line is the best must be honored. If you wish, I will tell Thorin to pick another and let you go to a lesser lord, should he be inclined to choose you."
Lióni gave it thought without hastily replying and she had a flashback of his half-naked body, gleaming with sweat. She didn't like the thought of another dwarrowlass running her hands over his scarred torso. She lifted eyes to meet the blue ones of the wizard. "Should I be chosen, I won't need interference from you."
Gandalf grinned again and lifted her to the back of Landroval. Oh, he and Thorin were going to have a long talk about this lass. He motioned for Shadowfax to swim the river alone.
Lord Fárin led his dwarves from Dimrill Stair in a line due east to avoid the elves who didn't allow them into their forest to the south. He wished no issue with the elves and figured Thranduil would be enough to deal with. A pile of bags had him calling for a final halt that day while his guards rushed to look inside.
"Here is ah sack of grain," one cried while another, audibled, "Jerky."
Fárin looked instinctively towards the dark forest and its watching eyes. "I heard stories of supplies left near the Golden Wood for those who came ta us. They must want us ta not come banging on their doors begging food." He motioned them to keep moving and ordered his son to make sure the bags were dispersed in wagons that were now empty of supplies.
"How long will it take us to get beyond sight of those tall trees," his son, Dárin, asked when they sat at a fire near a spring fed stream their first night on the east side of the Misty Mountains.
"About three days an we cut north along the Anduin," he answered and bit a chunk of jerky in a long strip. Chewing, he swallowed before adding, "When Lis married Thráin, her party led by yer grandfather, Hárin and Gandalf, actually skirted the east boundary of Lothlórien an saw the trees close up. They knew elves were watching them the entire time an on the last day before they moved away from the trees, the witch joined them. She was accompanied by ah host of elven warriors who didn't speak, but watched them closely. Gandalf greeted the lady warmly an hugged her. They were talking the language of the elves an it was ah beautiful sound."
"Do ye think the elves will pay us ah visit?" Dárin asked with hope in his tone. "I've never seen an elf."
"Where we are going, ye will see elves an men regularly. Everyone went ta the mountain."
"How long will we stay?"
"That depends on the king. As his uncle, he may ask me ta stay on as an advisor. I am prepared that I may never see the White Mountain's again."
"Does mother know?" This time Dárin's tone didn't hold hope of adventure. He figured his family would always be together in the vast caves of the White Mountains.
"She knew when she married me that Lis was ta go ta Erebor. She loved it there an told me it would suit her fine not ta have ta make the return trip at her age."
"What is ta become of me? Ye have Gárin as yer heir an Járin yer spare, but I don't have ah title ta inherit."
"That's why I'm takin ye with me, lad. I'm sure Thorin will find ah good use for ye, an after all, ye are first cousins."
Bowls of mush from the fresh wheat left by the elves was ready and Fárin delighted in the roasted nuts and honey that was added. Talking ceased as hungry dwarves ate fresh food. Seemed like the elves knew exactly what they liked to eat.