Chapter Seven

Kili strode purposefully onto the western terrace, taking the snow cloak and heavy gloves that someone thrust at him. Outside it was close to midnight and the storm had rolled in heavier than expected.

"Down there," the guard commander shouted, pointing toward the accident site. Kili stepped to the edge and looked while pulling on the extra cloak and gloves. Watch lanterns illuminated a flat area about two long-rope lengths below, and the switchback trail down had been obliterated by a slide full of both slag and boulders. Kili motioned for a lantern to be pointed uphill, and he got a look at the likely origin of the rockfall. Something wasn't right. That was not the kind of stone or outcropping that should have failed—especially not in that manner.

"Five wounded." The commander gestured toward the small lifting crane that had already pulled up three of the injured. "Head wounds, three are unconscious," he added, then lowered his voice. "One very serious."

Kili looked at the triage area: three injured guards, healers busy readying them for transport down to the infirmary. None of the wounded were Skirfir, though he did recognize their faces. Good warriors, all of them. Veterans. If this was intentional, as he now suspected it was, the act was criminal. If even one of these dwarves died of his wounds, he would have every right to exact justice with his sword.

Kili's brows lowered and his jaw clenched. In fact he would do it this very instant, were the culprits brought forth.

"And the two below?" His voice was tight.

"Broken bones. Not as serious at these. We're bringing them up now."

Kili looked at the crew with the lifting crane. They were nearly ready to send the rescue basket back down.

He raised a hand and walked forward, calling to them. "Give me a ride," he shouted, reaching for the chain and stepping onto the lifting basket's footholds.

He didn't see the crane workers glance at the guard commander in alarm, nor did he see the commander shrug. Their prince was well known to be a bit reckless, but they all secretly admired it about him.

"Just be careful!" the commander called out, as much to the workers as to his prince. "The wind's gusty and getting worse!"

Kili looked down. They had one watch lantern at the landing spot below, and one of the rescue crew below stood at the ready with a guide line to keep the basket steady in the wind. After a quick warning jerk on the chain, the rig descended rapidly with Kili on board.

Once on the ground, he helped carry the next wounded guard to the basket, an older dwarf with a crushed leg and broken arm. The fellow had already been given a powerful dose of pain killer and looked more like he'd just survived a drunken tavern brawl than an avalanche.

"Be careful laddie," he said to Kili when he recognized his prince. "I don't know what kind of ale they're servin', but it packs a powerful punch."

"Does it?" Kili smiled at the oldtimer while two healers settled him into the lifting basket. "Let's raise a glass of it then, next time I see you. We'll judge how strong the stuff is together."

He met the senior healer's eye, wondering if the injured guard would be all right, but the fellow's expression looked grave. Kili knew that meant the oldster's odds of losing his leg were fifty-fifty at best.

The fellow turned to his partner. "Are you all right if I ride up?" he asked.

Kili saw the second one nod in agreement. "Go," she said. "I'll finish and pack." It was a lassie's voice. Kili looked up to discover it was Nÿr, her braid covered by a blue hood.

"You're certainly everywhere today," he said to her in a level voice. Just this morning he would have been delighted to be crossing paths with her again. Now he didn't know what to think. He shoved his mixed feelings aside, focusing on the more urgent matter at hand.

"It's just my duty schedule," she answered, testing the buckles on the safety straps. "Luck of the draw for the holiday shift." She tugged on one last strap and stood back.

The senior healer stepped into the footholds and signaled readiness. Kili took the safety line and let it play out as the basket whisked upwards. He felt it bump to halt at the top, barely able to see the crane swinging the basket to safety. The snow was really coming down now, he realized.

Knowing that time was of the essence, he turned to the last wounded dwarf, Skirfir. The young archer was the least hurt but looked the most worried.

"Tell me what happened, lad," Kili said as he bent to lend a shoulder to the younger dwarf and help him up while Nÿr guided the empty carrier back to the ground.

"My Lord, these rockfalls are not happenstance," Skirfir looked at his prince with anger in his eyes as Kili got him to the basket. "Someone is setting them with some kind of blast powder. I saw them, just before the slide. Three of them, dwarves none of us recognized, dressed in grey and black. Up there," he jerked his head toward the area Kili had been looking at earlier. "They were dropping sacks. Red powder of some kind. We shouted and were headed up…"

Kili's eyes narrowed at the mention of red powder. "Three dwarves? No more?"

"Ask the Ravens. There was a small flock here raising a ruckus like no one's business. One tried to talk to me." Skirfir's head fell back, his frustration clear. "But I just can't understand them. I'm sorry…"

Kili scanned the slope above them. Any self-respecting bird had roosted at sunset and was now hunkered down out of the wind. He wouldn't be able to ravenspeak until at least morning. He put a hand on the injured lad's shoulder. "Good lad, Skirf," he said, and then bent close to speak quietly. "Who else have you told about this?"

"No one."

Kili squeezed the lad's arm. "Good lad. This is for King's ears only, do you understand me?"

Skirfir stared a moment, then nodded.

"We'll tell him together once you get patched up."

Skirfir nodded again as Nÿr stepped around the basket.

"Cross your arms like this and grip the straps," she said to the lad, demonstrating on herself, hands on opposite shoulders. "And hold tight."

Skirfir obeyed, blinking snow out of his eyes. He looked uncertain, but his expression was bravely stoic.

"Did I just hear a young lass asking you to hold tight?" Kili winked at the younger dwarf, trying to lessen the lad's worry with a bit of humor. It worked. He noticed the corner of Skirfir's mouth twitch up and the young archer looked appropriately scandalized. Kili suppressed a grin.

And then the strongest gust yet buffeted them with an icy blast and Kili leaned over the lad to protect him. Above them, the lift's chain swayed wildly and beside him, Nÿr met his gaze when the gust subsided. The snow was coming down faster and heavier.

"You go up," he said, indicating that she should ride the basket up with Skirfir.

"Too gusty," Nÿr shook her head. "Send him up alone—it will be safer for him. We can ride locked-arm afterward."

Kili nodded. She knew her stuff, the lass did. That was indeed the safest way in gusty conditions. He nodded and patted Skirfir one last time on the shoulder for reassurance.

He double checked the chain and snap-hook, and then the safety line. The wind gusted wickedly again and he rocked back, ignoring the sharpening pain in his right leg but shifting his weight off it just the same.

"Your ride might be bumpy," he shouted to Skirfir over the storm. He eyed the ropes, unable to see the cliff or the lights above now. "Let's hope the lads up there pull hard and fast. The sooner you're up, the easier it will be."

Kili nodded to Nÿr to stand away and he grabbed the chain, yanked twice, and quickly stepped back, his gloved hands on the safety line. The basket jerked and lifted just a little, the warning signal to clear for lift, and then shot upwards, out of sight. Kili let the safety line play out but held it taught, hoping it kept the basket from dashing against the rocks in the wind.

The line was nearly played out when it went weightless. He and Nÿr both stood, looking up into nothing but swirling snow as the line went lax, then came snaking back to the ground with a frayed end.

They looked at each other in shock.

Nÿr bent and lifted the sliced end. "What just happened?" she asked.

Kili looked wide-eyed at the rope in her hand, then at the swirling snow above them. "Skirfir!" he shouted, barely holding back a surge of panic.

Of course, no one could hear above the wind. He strained to see—had Skirf fallen?

Several long moments passed. The wind gusted, quieted, then gusted again with enough force to drive him against the healer lass and push both of them two steps to the side.

Then he saw it…a plump, round object too small to be a dwarf, falling straight for them. He grabbed Nÿr's arm and pulled her aside just in time for a bundle to hit the snowy ground with a whump.

"What does this mean?" she shouted in the wind.

"This," Kili called back, striding forward to retrieve the emergency pack and quickly interpreting a rune-code scrawled on its canvas. "Means that Skirf made it, but there won't be any more rescue lifts tonight." He braced himself against the gusting snow and went back to her, holding out a hand. She looked at it, eyes wide.

"Come on," he shouted. "We need to find shelter!"

"Say that to me again?" King Fili walked forward, his expression so intense that the guard commander stepped back. It was his unpleasant duty to knock on the door of the King's private chamber bearing unhappy news on tonight, of all nights…Durin's Day Eve.

"The winds are gusting too strongly. They barely got the last lad up."

"And my brother is still out there?"

The commander swallowed. "We sent an emergency pack down. And he's not alone. One of the rescue team is with him as well. Surely they will make a snow cave and wait out the storm."

"Who's with him?"

"One of the healer lassies."

"A lass?" Fili said flatly, keeping his expression still and steely, but one eyebrow twitched.

"Nÿr, sir. Healer apprentice. One of the best…" The guard stopped, unsure of his King's reaction. The King and his brother were famously close and fiercely protective of each other.

But Fili snorted. "Marooned in a snow cave with a lassie," he said with a hint of a smile. "Could be highly dangerous in a number of interesting ways."

But the guard didn't laugh. "One more thing, sir. The last lad that they brought up…"

Fili frowned. "How is he?"

"Badly broken leg. In the infirmary now. Says he has a message for you."

Fili stared.

"For you alone."

"Now that," Fili grabbed his overcoat and slipped it on. "Sounds like something I want to hear," he said, heading for the door and cinching his leather belt tight.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading along with my "they're not dead" AU! As always, leave a note or review if you're inclined, and Hand on Heart to all of you!

- Summer