Chapter 5
Gunnar, son of Fili, awoke to the sound of an alarm horn blowing. He leapt from the warm and comfy bed in the alcove that was "his" when visiting his uncle's private suite.
Khelethur...under attack? At least he knew where he was as he grabbed coat and boots. He cinched his belt and armed himself: knives, darts, axe.
He burst from his alcove ready to fight in the halls. But he didn't find a fight. He only found his aunt's assistant Embur hurrying past with several maids who carried his young cousins wrapped in their blankets.
"What is it?" he called to Embur.
"Orcs in Duillond. We're moving deeper underground with the Queen," she answered as her hands ushered the maids along. "Muster with Skirf." She pointed down the Royal Suite's central hall as she passed it but did not slow down.
Gunz didn't need more information. As Embur, the maids. and their sleepy charges disappeared down a stairway, Gunz dashed to the muster and found his uncle in battle gear, strapping on his sword.
Gunz bowed his head, the hand over his heart clenching a knife hilt. It was a gesture old Dwalin had taught him, a quick and silent pledge from Prince to King that said I fight for you.
"Good, you're armed," his uncle said. "Stay with me." And then they were off—Ered Luin's King and his Royal Guard wasted no time in transiting from the King's quarters to the Great Hall, and then down a long, wide flight of stone stairs. Gunz jogged with them, thinking through what he remembered of the underground route to the settlement on the plain north of the Blue Mountains.
As he went, he concentrated with half-lidded eyes. Did Khelethur have anything to say? He could feel the old and deeply spelled stone, but Gunz felt no threat near the King's Halls.
"This stone is quiet," he said to his uncle as they reached a landing, rounded a turn, and started down another broad stairway. If there were orcs anywhere in the mountains proper, Gunz would hear the rock complaining.
His uncle spared him a glowering glance and a single nod. "Good to know our halls are safe."
"How far off can you sense an orc?" Skirf asked as they charged across a landing.
Gunz considered. It was an unpredictable art, stone sensing. It was changeable and seemed to him that the rock chose whether to say anything. Or rather, the ancient spells chose.
"I can't sense them at all," he said as they continued the descent into Khelethur's depths. "It's just the stone I can feel...there's nothing disturbing it this side of the Eastway."
"Good," his uncle said. "Speak up, lad," he said, "If that changes."
"Yes, sir," Gunz replied, understanding that their roles had shifted from fun-loving uncle and nephew to war-ready King and prince-from-another-kingdom. Gunz knew he was a soldier now. And the good people of Ered Luin deserved to be defended, especially from rag-tag orc-kind.
Is this where I belong? He wondered as he went, keeping pace with the Ered Luin guard as the great stairway bottomed out and the King's escort turned down a long passage. Do I belong with my uncle? It would do, even though they both knew his heart ached for his father. It kept his mind busy as they passed through the northern gate and charged down the steep road from Khelethur's back door to the village of Duillond.
Da.
But his father was far away...both in the distance to Erebor and in the chasm created by grief. Gunz could not forgive himself. He had not known what to do...he had not been there that night. He'd been on duty in the new western outpost. By the time he reached the family quarters, his mother was gone and his father...he'd been completely unable to reach him. The memory of it haunted him in dark dreams. Da…! But his father's hand did not find his. He did not pull him into a loving embrace.
Gunz hadn't understood. It wasn't fair that their mother had been taken so quickly—so fast that by the time he'd heard, it was all over. She was already gone. And it wasn't fair to his father, who had spent his life defending Erebor from unspeakable evil.
His father only sat, still as stone, not even aware that he was beside him. Gunz had felt that pain like a sword to the heart.
Come away, Gunnar, his uncle had said. Leave him be. It will take time…
Now, as he ran with his uncle's guard, Gunnar, son of Fili, let that wound fuel his warrior spirit. Injustice was part of this world. He knew that. But it made him angry, and as long as he lived, he would fight it like the Son of Durin that he was.
Like his uncle and father, who most of all, detested orc-kind—the ones who'd killed their Grandfather, their Father, their Uncle...and had been trying for decades to kill all who bore the blood of Durin.
"There! Three of them!" someone yelled as their trail curved and entered the woods outside Duillond. "In the woods! To the east!"
Kili slowed, bow in hand, and scanned the wooded upslope in the grey dawn light. He drew one arrow and armed his bow. Three, at least. Could be more...
Around him, the Blue Mountain guard became silent, weapons at the ready, eyes searching the woods on either side.
There wasn't much to hear. Even the bird life was subdued in the morning mists, and none of Khelethur's ravens had caught up yet.
No matter. Kili could fight without them.
Gunnar, standing three dwarves away, took a step forward. Yes, someone needed to flush out the hidden orcs, but Kili turned his head sharply. No, lad. Not you.
Skirfir's hand flashed out and gripped Gunnar's shoulder, stopping him as rough-coated Guards shouldered past and jogged for the cover of undergrowth. Several more guard followed, spacing themselves out to make a line.
The guards moved forward together, making slow, step-by-step progress up the slope.
Kili's senses were on edge—and he scanned the hillside above them. Orcs would either try a suicide attack on the guards, or they'd try to hide: slip away uphill, climb a tree, slither under a rock…
One made the mistake of climbing a tree. Kili spotted the tell-tale movement of branches, pulled his bow taught—and fired over the heads of his guard. A whump and a gutteral ugh told him he'd hit his target.
A scrawny goblin-looking orc toppled to the leaf-strewn ground, limp and still.
And at that, roaring war-cries came from two other directions on the slope, and the fight was on—including the fallen orc. It infuriatingly rose and charged, Kili's arrow still stuck between his ribs.
Kili fired again, and this time his arrow was followed by two Guards and their razor-sharp battle axes who moved in and made sure it was dead.
Gunnar charged ahead as several others spotted an outlier just to the north. This time Kili kept himself from calling the lad back. I can't, he realized. Lad has to prove himself…
Gunnar's group surrounded the stray orc, disarming it and dragging it back to the road.
It was squealing like a stuck pig and thrashing about, and Kili had a mind to step up and help, though Skirfir's fierce glare told him he should not. Kili tried to emulate Thorin at times like this—just stand tall and look noble and affronted while others handled the offending criminals...but a lifetime of being a front-line warrior was hard to overcome.
The little group stood before him, presenting their prize, Gunnar's axe tight against its chest, holding it back. One of the pike-wielders stood with blood streaming from an unprotected forehead but he was not deterred by the snarling orc.
"Don't let him get his hands on anyone's knife," the wounded dwarf said to the others. "Watch him, now…"
A dozen blades surrounded the outlier.
After a long moment, Kili spoke. "You have been raiding in Dwarf lands," Kili said in his best and deepest voice.
"No. Not me. I'm just leaving," The orc snarled.
Someone's spear hooked a sack tied to the orc's belt and sliced it free.
Several large eight-sided silver coins clattered to the ground...the kind produced only in the Duillond mint.
Kili didn't need to accuse it of lying. It's mere presence in his kingdom was a death sentence.
But then it got a good look at Gunnar and hissed. "Durin-blooded whelp…" It spat and looked from Gunnar to Kili as if trying to decide whether this was Kili's son or…
Gunnar raised his long-axe closer to the orc's throat. "I am Gunnar of Erebor and you are a filthy murderer."
The orc hissed again, and pointed blades moved closer, penning him in. "Yesss," it hissed and blew its breath out in an odd way. Kili realized it was laughing. "And so is your slimy father."
Kili stepped forward, drawing the orc's attention away from Gunz before the lad could get impulsive.
The orc tried to crouch low, hunkering down as much as it could, suddenly serious and wary.
"Battle-proof dwarf, battle-proof," it muttered.
Kili had heard this before. Something about his survival after a poisoned orc-wound had become legend to orc-kind.
It was, of course, not really the truth of the matter. Nothing about orc belief had much to do with truth, and this orc was only going to talk nonsense.
In silence, he nocked an arrow and drew his bow back as far as he could and aimed down. Gunz backed away quickly and this time Kili's arrow brought swift and sure death.
As one, the dwarf Guards lowered their weapons and turned away, leaving only two to drag the carcass off the road.
Kili saw Gunnar go to the old dwarf with the head wound, pulling out a kerchief to staunch the bleeding.
The oldster started to object, then realized it was the young prince and went quiet. Kili snorted. He was certain the old dwarf was trying work out whether it was more of an honor to keep complaining or to make a show of having the young Prince's attention.
Gunz neatly got the old fellow's arm over his shoulder and moved him to the rear of the escort and set him on an outcropping of stone and clamping a hand tight to the wound.
And then shouts from the dwarves on the hillside told Kili that they'd found something unexpected.
He couldn't help it, he charged up the slope to see, Skirfir at his back.
Shouts of "Heyah!" preceded him, and he arrived at the base of a tree to find a dozen of his best fighters with blades out surrounding one nearly-dead orc and a scruffy, dirt-encrusted man.
"Get them apart!" Kili ordered. The man was nudged away from the orc at spear-point.
"Why are you with these orc?" Kili growled to the man, sword in hand. Unless he could give a password, this man was as much an enemy as goblin-kind.
The scruffy man, looking none too steady, slowly turned a dirty face to him, and shaking as if with a mild palsy, seemed to recognize who he must be, and let out a short laugh. Behind them, the dying orc's breathing rasped as if it wanted to object.
"Because they pay in unmarked gold," he drawled.
Someone's mattock smacked the man in the shoulder, knocking him backwards. The skinny man landed on his rump.
"Awww," the man groaned, still shaking. "Why'd you do that?"
"Because you're a disrespectful ass," Skirfir said. The dwarves around the man moved their blades closer to his arms and face.
Behind him, Kili heard the ring of steel and an ominous clunk, a sign that someone had put that orc out of its misery.
The man tried to make himself smaller, pulling back from the razor sharp weapons around him. "By Brega's horse...so I took a job for a bit of pay. Where's the harm in that?"
"Your employers seem to be dead," Kili pointed out. "I hope they paid you in advance."
Kili and the man stared at each other for a long moment, the dwarven warriors still as stone. The man had indeed given a password.
"Let him up," Kili said.
To their credit, Kili's Guard obeyed instantly and stepped back, but more than a few of them kept their weapons ready, and Skirfir was glowering at him as good as any Durin.
Lady Nÿr, Queen of the Blue Mountains, would not hide in the depths of Khelethur like a frightened rabbit. She was a Daughter of Durin and an essential part of her Lord husband's army, just as much as his Battle Guard were.
It was old Ulf, assigned to the household guard, who approached.
He bowed with great respect. "My lady, the sun rises."
Nÿr nodded. She never quite knew what to make of Ulf, oldest among Kili's Firebeard relations. He was proud and aloof most of the time, but around her he always seemed reverent, as many old bachelor dwarves were toward any mother dwarf. All of them were half afraid, half in love with any young mother who had a bairn at the breast, as the old timers would say.
It was a phenomenon the young mothers worked to maintain. It was a form of protection, after all.
"Thank you, Ulf. Will you come with me?" She well knew it was his assignment to stay with her, but it was Lady An who had coached her in managing the household guard. Always request the help you know they are there to provide. It helps them understand that they serve you, not just their King.
In response, he bowed again, hand on heart.
Nÿr paused long enough to grab her fur-lined cloak and check on her babies. Both lads and her small lass were sound asleep, despite the night-time excitement, and each one had been commandeered by a different nurse. All was well, Nÿr decided. With luck, she'd be back before their hungry stomachs woke them up.
Embur stood, her face set in a firm expression that said I'm going with you.
Nÿr did not object. They joined Ulf and Nÿr let him open the door.
Ulf, of course, walked just ahead as they climbed from the lower levels to the family quarters. They encountered only the expected household guards along the way, stationed in key defensive posts, and before she knew it, Ulf was checking a small access portal, and then nodded to her, opening a narrow door. Outside was a little-used ravenspeaker ledge which sat tucked in a protected elbow-like nook in a bend of the exterior lodge's architecture.
Khelethur's ravens, of course, knew exactly where this was. If they didn't find her on the broad terrace outside the family quarters, the ravens would to look here.
Sure enough, one raven was here ahead of her. She went directly to the railing, Embur at her back.
Corax was an unhappy bird, fluffed up and pacing on the handrail, and looking as impatient as a raven could look. He stopped and put his head down when he saw Nÿr.
RAVEN KING, RAVEN KING! He demanded a moment later.
Nÿr tightened her leather arm guard—an angry raven would clutch and draw blood.
"He's halfway to Duillond by now. We had alarms in the night."
Corax looked at her, standing still with a glint of fury in his beady eye. Lucky for her, he stayed on the railing and didn't try to land on her arm to claw and fuss at her.
Nÿr also knew that the only cure for his anger was to send him off. "Find Raven King, Corax. Fly north to the Duillond Road. Tell him Hen-Hen is quiet and safe. Help find orcs."
At the sound of the last word, Corax stood tall and screeched his anger. Behind her, Embur covered her ears at the volume, which seemed ten times louder than usual in the confines of the little nook.
And then Corax launched himself, calling for others.
It wasn't a war flock, but it was fair-sized congress that circled the rooftop. And then they were gone.
Four ravens remained, perched on the eaves, waiting for invitations to speak. Nÿr called them down, one by one, hearing their morning reports. Nothing moving in the valley...not even the usual dwarf woodcutters or pony-tenders. The ravens sounded forlorn.
"Yes," she assured them. "We are on alert. We are staying underground. You can still have nuts, though. Look, Embur's opening a bucket now."
Embur did indeed open a bucket and toss handfuls to the sloping roof below them. Several ravens swooped to collect their prizes.
The last raven hopped politely to her arm and she noticed at once the little green bead threaded onto a ring around its foot.
"You are an Erebor raven," she said to it. "Do you bring us news?"
The raven bobbed its head in respect.
Nÿr frowned as she listened. Fili had received a message from old Thranduil.
And it sounded to her like a warning...
A/N: Huge thanks for your patience and your notes! A shout-out to TOWG, Nenithiel, nonniemous, Grace2smile, melisande25, and the rest of you have taken a moment to post a note! Hand on heart to you and even if I don't have time to respond each time, please know I am more than grateful for your feedback. And of course a big hand on heart to Jessie152 for her ongoing support and proofing...and if you did not know, she is simul-posting translations in German on fan fiktion, the German-language fan fic site. :D
I think by the next chapter, we will be meeting up with a few more members of the Annuminas Alliance!
All feedback welcome, even if you're new to the story. Cheers!
Summer
