I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of the characters.
Hired
Rhanir sighed as he rode into Rivendell, seeing Elrond waiting on a raised courtyard up ahead. He looked angry, but Elrond's expression was always stern. The road wrapped up around to Elrond's home and Rhanir dropped off the horse, allowing one of the elves to lead him through the palace to Elrond before the elf left.
"You're late," Elrond said in Sindarin.
"I was banished," Rhanir responded in kind.
"Not by me," Elrond said. "I do not care that you work as a mercenary. I do not care that you behave like a grumpy dwarf. I certainly don't care that you were banished solely for falling in love with a human, against your king's wishes. You are very skilled, and I have a job for you."
"And what's that?" Rhanir asked.
"I have recently played host to a company of dwarves," Elrond said. "They mean to retake Erebor."
"That's suicide," Rhanir snorted. "They'll be burned alive."
"Perhaps," Elrond nodded. "Or perhaps they will succeed. However, if they can never reach the mountain in the first place, then it won't matter."
"Are you saying you want them to reach the mountain?" Rhanir asked.
Elrond was silent for a long moment. "These dwarves have every reason to hate elves. They were abandoned by elves and when they were broken and starving, Thranduil turned his back on them." He fell silent for a moment. "Gandalf brought something here. A relic of a time long past. Something which could not have been. A Morgul Blade."
"That's rare," Rhanir nodded. "But it doesn't explain why you care, or what it has to do with me."
"The Morgul Blade belonged, according to Gandalf, to the Witch King of Angmar," Elrond stated. "He claims it was found in Dol Guldur."
"That's impossible," Rhanir growled. "The Witch King is gone. No one has seen him since Glorfindel drove him off. It can't be his."
"Are you willing to risk that?" Elrond asked.
Rhanir grit his teeth. "What would you have me do? Hunt down the Witch King?"
"No," Elrond shook his head. "If it truly is the Witch King, then Gandalf is right, and the enemy has returned. Gandalf believes that he has his sights set on the mountain. I do not know if I believe Gandalf or not, but I do know that if Gandalf is right, the enemy cannot be allowed to gain the mountain. The dwarves must succeed. That is why you are here. I am asking you to follow the dwarves and ensure they are successful. Aid them in their journey."
Rhanir considered in silence for a long few minutes, then nodded, sighing. "Alright. I'll go. But not for free. You know where this journey will take me. You know what I'll risk."
"I do," Elrond nodded. "I am asking you to risk much. But you will be rewarded. You will be welcomed here. It could be your home if you wish. And we shall pay you with gold and jewels, if you wish that, as well."
Rhanir considered, then nodded. "Alright. How long ago did they leave?"
"Less than a day ago," Elrond answered. "You may take the horse you arrived on." He held out a hand, and a guard walked over with a small pouch. "I've had provisions prepared for you."
Rhanir thanked him, slinging the pouch's strap over his shoulder before mounting up on the horse again. With a heavy sigh and a dark look at Elrond, he turned, spurring his horse back out of Rivendell and toward the Lonely Mountain. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to pass by Mirkwood. The elven realm there would never be as welcoming as Elrond. In fact, if he entered the woodland realm in Mirkwood, he'd be imprisoned, at best. Probably killed.
He shook his head, refocusing on the present as he rode his horse toward Erebor. The dwarves made good time, for being on foot, but as they ascended into the mountains, Rhanir caught up to them easily. As he approached, the Dwarves all clustered together, readying their weapons, only for Rhanir to slow his horse to a walk.
"You all have a lot to learn about fighting," he called out in the common tongue as he stopped several paces away. "When up against a horse, never cluster together, or else I can just ride through your group and knock you all down. Break bones, rupture organs. Much better to spread yourselves out against a horse, and put your backs to a cliff or a wall, if you can, so the horse can't ride through you. Won't work quite so well against a warg, but still better than being clustered together."
"What about several horses or wargs?" one of the dwarves, a young-looking one with a messy beard and his hair resembling a mushroom then hanging down behind him with four locks tied into thin braids, asked, the others all elbowing him hard.
Rhanir chuckled. "If they charge in a line, have an archer wound one horse's leg to trip it, then run through the opening when more fall. For a line of wargs, trip as many as you can before they reach you and be ready to dodge out of the others' way, so that they hit the wall, then kill the wargs before the riders. If they charge at you without being a line, trip the first and pray for luck."
"Who are you?" one of the dwarves, this one with long black hair and a black goatee asked, Rhanir guessing this was Thorin Oakenshield.
"My name is Rhanir," Rhanir introduced himself. "Lord Elrond has asked me to aid you in reaching Erebor. Once there, I will leave you in peace. I've no interest in the mountain, or anything within it, but you must reach the mountain safely."
"Why do you care?" a tall, powerfully built dwarf with a long, black beard and hair but the top of his head bald asked. "Elves refused to help us before. If you don't want the mountain or anything within, why would an elf care if we reach it?"
Rhanir was silent for a long few minutes. "You were driven from your home by a dragon, and after that you had no home. I was banished from my home, driven from it at spearpoint. I've lived among men and dwarves for a long time. I take pay to undertake tasks that others dare not undertake themselves. I know what it is to have no home, to have nowhere you belong. For that reason, I understand your desire to retake your home. However, I had not intended to aid you until Lord Elrond offered me payment for it, and explained to me that another wishes to control the mountain, one who cannot be allowed to claim it. So I will aid you. And if you do not wish me present, then I will simply follow you."
The dwarves bristled, but eventually Thorin agreed. The dwarves accepted his decision, but as they continued to move, none of the dwarves acknowledged his presence. In fact, the only person who would acknowledge him was a halfling, a hobbit, who dropped back to speak with him as he was sending the horse home to Rivendell. He identified each of the dwarves, then turned, smiling pleasantly.
"My name's Bilbo," he greeted him.
"Hello Bilbo," Rhanir smiled. "I'm surprised to find one of your kind among dwarves."
"Yes, well.." Bilbo trailed off.
"That's a fine blade you carry," Rhanir changed the subject. "Perfect size for a hobbit."
"Oh, thank you," Bilbo smiled gratefully. "Would you...know if it had a name?"
"I don't think it does," Rhanir shook his head. "However, I'm not one who would know about that. Of course, you could always name it yourself."
Bilbo considered, then shrugged, waving him off.
Rhanir chuckled. "You ever used a sword before?"
Bilbo shook his head. "This is the first time I've ever left the Shire."
Rhanir nodded. "Would you like to? I can't make you a master, but you'll at least have a better chance of surviving."
"No, I-I don't have any money to pay you," Bilbo dismissed him.
Rhanir shook his head. "No charge. I was hired to ensure this company made it to Erebor safely. That includes you."
Bilbo hesitated, then shook his head. "Thank you for the offer...but no."
Rhanir nodded, and they continued through the mountains. As they climbed higher, dark clouds began to fill the sky, rain pouring down around them. The road narrowed rapidly, until they were walking sideways, hugging the cliff face behind them.
"We must find shelter!" Thorin shouted over the storm.
"Look out!" the balding dwarf, Dwalin, shouted.
All eyes rose, seeing a truly massive boulder sailing toward them. They all shrank back against the cliff, making themselves as small as possible, and a moment later, the boulder exploded against the cliff face. For a moment, it was chaos. More boulders began to fly, and great, echoing voices began to cheer and guffaw across the mountains. The mountains themselves began to break apart, transforming into great stone giants. Even the section of mountain they were on was merely the legs of a giant. More and more rose, the giants hurling stones at one another, only to catch them. Each successful catch was met with a chorus of deafening cheers, and each failed catch with a roar of laughter as the giant who'd been struck fell, then rose again. Two giants knocked their heads together in a deafening collision.
The dwarves raced along the path they'd made it to, but Rhanir was stuck on the giant's leg as it charged away from the mountain, catching a stone and hurling it at another giant. He didn't know what game they were playing, but he knew one thing. If he didn't escape from this giant soon, he'd die. He looked over at the dwarves, seeing them entering a cave in the mountain, where it was clear of giants. But the giant on which Rhanir stood seemed to have no intention of returning to the mountain. He shook his head, then pulled on a pair of gloves with small, metal spikes on the insides of the fingertips and the base of the palms. They were made for climbing, and he immediately began to test them for the first time. They weren't perfect, and they definitely didn't sink into the stone of the giant's body like they would a tree, but they found just enough purchase to allow him to climb despite the rain. Slowly, agonizingly, he ascended the giant. It seemed he'd gotten lucky with which giant he was stuck on. It rarely missed a catch, and it didn't seem to be as apt to headbutt another as some of the other giants. He only hoped that it would be friendly to an elf on its shoulder. But the climb was far from quick. It took more than an hour for him to reach the giant's shoulder. He checked to ensure the giant hadn't left the mountain cave, but it seemed to have stayed close by. So, he turned, running to its head. There was a sort of shape reminiscent of an ear, though he could see that it was only the outer section. Still, he hoped it was an ear.
"Excuse me!" Rhanir shouted, getting no reply. "EXCUSE ME!"
The giant caught a boulder, then stopped, turning its head slightly.
"I'M SORRY TO INTERRUPT!" Rhanir shouted over the storm and the other giants continuing to play. "WOULD YOU MIND DROPPING ME OFF BY THAT CAVE!?" He pointed at it.
The giant turned to look, then began to turn its head back just as another giant hurled a boulder at him. With a shocking display of agility, the giant smashed the boulder from the sky with the one he was holding, then held a hand at his shoulder. Rhanir thanked him, stepping onto the hand, and the giant moved it down to the mouth of the cave the dwarves and Bilbo had entered. Rhanir waved up at the giant, then stepped off of his hand and walked into the cave, only to stop, staring. He was sure this was the cave the dwarves had entered, but there were no dwarves present. There were no hobbits, no weapons, no sign that anyone had passed into the cave. Only an empty cave. Except, there was something different about it. He frowned, kneeling and trailing his fingers over it, then raised his hand. Sand clung to his fingers, bleached nearly pure white, but aside from the thin layer that remained, the sand was gone. He eyed a crack in the floor, then moved over, trailing his finger along it as he followed it. After a moment, he stopped, realizing that it wasn't a crack. It was a seam. He looked around for a switch, or any way to open the floor, but found none. He hummed thoughtfully for a moment, then knelt, drawing one of his swords. If he couldn't open the door, then he would knock. He began rapping the pommel on the ground, hard. Finally, after nearly a moment, there was a creaking groan of wood, and the floor fell away.
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