A/N Khuzdul translations in the footnote.
Chapter 11
Fili's second son Gunz rode pillion behind one of the Dunedain and in his head he heard the voice of Pippin. The hobbit had been telling the tale just two nights ago of his ride on Shadowfax with Gandalf during the war.
"I just felt like so much baggage, I have to say," Pippin had looked him in the eye, then raised his ale for another drink.
Well, I know the feeling now, Gunz reflected. Though the fate of all free peoples is not exactly hanging in the balance. They were only hunting rogue goblins. But the fate of my backside might be.
And the view ahead was unchanging: the chain-mail hood of Erion the Dunedain about one-hand's breadth from his nose.
The tall trees beside their trail cast shadows in the late afternoon sunlight and Gunz began to search they sky for ravens. He spotted three of them, gliding below the treetops to the south.
This was his task—ride with the Dunedain as Ravenspeaker, and relay messages from his uncle on western shore of the Lhun to his Dunedain hosts who patrolled the eastern shore.
In another hour, the ravens would be roosting.
As the Dunedain cantered their horses into a clearing, Gunz smacked Erion on the arm and gestured to the sky. Erion wheeled his horse out of line and circled, giving Gunz a chance to slide off the bay's rump, take a few wobbly steps away, and lift his arm in invitation.
Around him, the Dunedain circled and Halden rode toward him, reining to a stop within earshot.
Two groups, the first raven raven reported. Run north. They run north. Blues kill five.
Gunz relayed this to Halden—of course his Uncle's message meant that his Blue Mountain trackers had killed five goblins. He took a few more steps away as a second raven demanded his attention.
Eight boats two paddle up little river. It said. Again, Gunz relayed this to Halden.
"Two goblins each in eight boats?" Halden asked. "Coming up the Little Lhun, right to us," he grinned.
"Yes," Gunz replied, offering nuts to the raven. "It seems that many at least have crossed into Arnor."
Halden waved several scouts forward and began to issue orders.
Gunz looked for the third raven. This one had landed on a rock and sat ruffling its feathers until he waved a prize bit of dried Shire apple. He guessed this one was not one of his uncle's Ered Luin birds. This one had the rough look of having flown a distance.
When the raven finally came to his arm, he noted the small pink stone bead on a thin steel ring around its ankle.
From Iri… A message from his sister!
Yet the raven demanded three more bits of apple before raising its head and looking at Gunz.
Elf King dreamed…beware knife of Numenor. Goblins seek. King to kill.
Gunz blinked as he tried to focus on the bird, his heart pounding.
His uncle was a King.
Five days later Kili, King of Ered Luin, woke just enough to note the sound of dripping rain. His company of mountain warriors sheltered in a thick, overgrown wood. They were tracking goblins...with the purpose of driving them to cross the river into Dunedain lands. They had been running hard to force the goblins all the harder.
But even hardy dwarves needed food and rest.
But all they needed was a soaking rain to make things really miserable. Even the ravens would be soaked.
Kili opened his eyes at the soft crunch of heavy boots somewhere outside the thicket. Dwarf boots, he decided. Camp guards on watch.
Even though it wasn't much of a camp, he told himself. Just a nest in a tangle of underbrush beneath broad-leaf beeches. It reduced the full downpour to a smattering of continual drips but was only slightly better than sleeping in the open.
He eased one shoulder away from a tree root and felt the presence of Skirfir against his back; assured that all was well, he closed his eyes again and let his mind drift. He needed to rest while he could, but it was never easy to find true sleep when he was away. He distracted himself with thoughts of home, the beauty of Khelethur, the laughter of his children…which led to visions of his lady wife. Her smile, that swing in her hip…her deep green eyes set off by the sparkle of gold on her ears.
The feel of her hand in his…her care when transferring their littlest one…baby Lís…into his arms.
That sweet lass was her own miracle, he smiled to himself.
It had been a very hot midsummer. Nÿr had been uncommonly overheated and sharp with the lads, even deep inside their stone rooms beneath the lodge.
Kili had finally recalled sage advice from his brother, stopped his constant duties, and declared a few private days off.
And with the sound of the midnight rain dripping in his wooded camp, Kili drifted towards sleep again, that summer day replaying in his mind.
He found her in their quarters, in the linen room, with both hands covering her face.
He said nothing. He knew she heard him and saw her arms fall to her side with the barest sigh.
Very gently he reached for the fingertips of one resigned hand, curling them lightly into his palm.
"Love…" he whispered, knowing that in the fever of Mahabrûf, the way into her favor was indirect. "There is a hidden waterfall to show you…"
She said nothing.
"Cool mist…no one else there," he murmured, saying nothing more and letting her consider these two things he hoped she would like.
"My mother took us there once," he used his softest voice. "I found it again…just last week."
She looked over her shoulder at him, always interested in his mother. But his heart sank at the sight of circles under her eyes and the puffiness to her cheeks that was not usually there…her pupils were wide, her eyes dark.
Oh my love… His chest went hollow, but he said nothing. Instead, he lifted her hand with a small gesture toward the door.
She stayed still a moment, but neither did she object as he took a small step and drew her toward the hallway. She followed like a sleepwalker, but she did not stop—and he knew that she had, for the moment, given up on resisting the call of Mahu.
He led her in silence down the least-used corridors to the side door used by the gardeners. Outside, he waved off two guards who both turned their backs as if they'd never seen them, standing at attention as if on duty. Even the ravens, ever curious whenever he left the lodge, circled away to follow at high altitude.
Back in the rainstorm, Kili opened his eyes to darkness at the sound of distant thunder rumbling long and low. Northwest of us, he decided, slowly closing them again. Not a threat. He willed himself back to his memories.
He led Nÿr away from the main path and instead slowly guided her to a lilac hedge and ducked with her through the green thicket. She stumbled once on a crooked root and he stopped, letting her steady herself against his arm. Without comment, he waited until she took a breath and stepped forward again.
Several minutes beyond the formal gardens her stride became more sure, her pace matching his, yet he knew better than to expect conversation. Instead, he hoped she would just breathe in the forest air and let it lift her spirits. After a while, he turned to smile gently at her and let go of her hand as she walked beside him now with her usual, confident progress.
The walk did seem to help.
He fell into step with her, choosing an almost hidden, little-used path to the western branching of the Horsetail Stream. The soft earth beneath their feet turned to the smooth granite of Ered Luin's native stone as they came to the entrance of a tall narrow canyon. Ahead, an old, rough stairway climbed alongside the meandering course of a descending stream. High cliff walls rose to either side, funneling a cool breeze into their faces.
To his relief, Nÿr lifted her head and looked upwind, eyes curiously scanning the stone, and he smiled to see a healthy color back in her cheeks.
It took two hours to climb the winding stairs to the base of the tall waterfall. They stopped once and Kili crouched along the water's edge to cup a handful of water for her. She dipped her head to drink, then he watched as she splashed the rest into her face, gasped, and honored him with a genuine smile of relief.
Oh my love, he said again to himself, glad to see her looking better as they climbed on with a steady pace.
As the way narrowed, he took the lead, conscious of her following a step or two behind. Above the narrow slice of blue sky above them, at least three different ravens wove slowly high overhead, as if gliding lazily on
thermals.
He remembered the look of the last turn in time to stop and look back at her. Putting his arm out to encircle her shoulder, he silently urged her walk ahead of him, aware of the pounding rush of water ahead…
"Muzmnat-uslun," he spoke for the first time, murmuring the waterfall's Khuzdul name in her ear…the ear he so loved to nuzzle.
Her wide, green eyes met his and she grabbed his hand.
"Here?" she asked.
"Here," he said in his deepest voice and guided her around the turn.
The thunder of pounding water and a powerful mist blasted them from the base of the falls.
"Oh!" Nÿr gasped at the force of the water and the feel of stone vibrating beneath her feet. As he watched, Kili saw her close her eyes in relief and turn her face into the spray.
He steadied her, smiling to see her soaking in the coolness but stopped himself from taking her in his arms right there and kissing her open mouth.
Not yet, lad, he told himself. Not yet.
"Do you see the footholds?" he shouted so she could hear him over the roar of water. He pointed to the rough-hewn ledges to the left of the thundering water.
To his relief, she stepped forward, testing her footing on the first step, and after getting a small splash in the face, turned to him with a laugh.
He grinned in return, his own face dripping with water.
Yes.
She climbed, sure-footed now, as if eager to see where this odd little staircase, so close to the thundering water, would take her.
One more sharp curve around a granite outcropping and they could see—the last step became a ledge that broadened into a hollow just wide enough for a pair of dwarves to pass behind the shimmering veil of falling water.
Inside, the roar of the water lessened and they stood almost back-to-back, surveying the curving ceiling of the cave behind the water veil. Kili breathed deeply—he liked the satisfying feel of solid stone hidden from the sky and summer heat, and while the air inside was beautifully fresh and water-cooled, they were upwind of the blasting mist.
The sunlight that filtered through the waterfall picked up a dark shimmer at the back of the hollow cave.
When he saw that she'd noticed, he took her hand again and showed her what was there…on the rear wall of the cave, in a narrow crevice…a jumble of egg-like stones in a nest of dark glassy pebbles.
"My mother brought us here, years ago. Showed these to us." he murmured. "Pick one."
Nÿr, her expression intent, ran her hands across the odd stones. She took one that just fit in her hand and turned to him with a quirk of one eyebrow and a smile.
"Geode," she guessed.
Kili smiled and pointed to a flat ledge.
She went to it, set the odd rock on it and stepped back, looking at him expectantly.
Kili reached inside his vest for two tools and handed her a spike and hammer he'd brought just for this.
She knew just what to do, and with skilled hands set the spike and tapped it with just the right amount of force. With a snap, the stone cracked and fell open in three pieces.
Nyr's eyes widen and she gasped…the hollow stone's inner lining was a mass of sparkling deep blue crystal.
"Did you never wonder why Ered Luin's color is blue?" he murmured, smiling at her.
She blinked at him but didn't answer. Then she dropped the tools next to the little prize and wrapped her arms around him with more force than he expected.
Her mouth was on his ear…
"I am more interested," she said in a husky voice. "That it broke into three pieces."
His arms came around her with all his strength and his lips found hers. They kissed long and deep…
And then that familiar scramble of fingers on buckles, coats dropped to the floor, and the feel of her hands on his bare skin.
The coats made enough of a nest—no more than they'd had that first time, trapped in a snow shelter all those years ago...
Kili's eyes popped open at a booming explosion so close it felt directly over their heads. In an automatic gesture he sat up, hand on his sword. Next to him, Skirfir was on his feet, instantly between him and the small opening to the outside world.
"Thunder…it's just thunder," Kili said to Skirf as his pounding heartbeat slowed again to normal.
"Close one," the outside guards called as the rain drummed harder.
Just as well, Kili thought to himself, regretting the end of the dreamy idyll in his head. Yet he smiled to himself. It was a reminder, he decided, that his home was worth protecting.
He raised his hood, warm and dry inside his leathers, and re-positioned his bandolier.
"Might as well take the watch," he said to Skirf. "Maybe someone else can sleep."
.
.
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A/N Thanks so much for reading! Hope you liked the fluffy interlude... As always, I appreciate a quick note from readers; it lets me know you're out there! Shout out to Celebrisilweth and Nenithiel who have been such fabulous long-time readers. Also ThatOtherWriterGirl, melisande25 and Sparklegirl71! And welcome aboard RemiSparklez! And of course a bug hand on heart to Jessie152, who is a fab beta reader and travelbuddy. I really appreciate all your notes and hope other readers look at your works as well. (Check them out!)
Just so you know, I have been working hard on a "serial numbers rubbed off" novella that will be available online this spring...look for an announcement with the next chapter, probably in March. :D
Cheers to you!
Khuzdul words:
Muzmnat-uslun = horsetail waterfall (Horsetail Falls.)
Mahabrûf and Mahu: literally, "breeding." See Warhammers, Ch 18 for more details. I have made up this concept based on available information gleaned from Tolkien and other LOTR sources. Mahabrûf refers to the dwarven female fertility cycle, the rare time when conception is possible. It will occur maybe only 4-5 times in her lifetime. Some lasses welcome mahabrûf as the promise of a child, others pass through the time in embarrassed dismay or anger that the situation is out of her control and choose to sequester themsleves in privacy. Male dwarves are mystified by the cycle, but also quite irresistibly drawn to and protective of a lass in her "time," if she will even have them near. (Fili secretly calls this "broody mama time," btw, and he has coached his little brother quite well in how to navigate the dangers of a lass in the turmoil of her "time.") Once conception has occurred, the symptoms vanish. A dwarf pregnancy will last 20-24 months. Why does it matter? Post-LOTR, low birth rates are the biggest threat to the survival of the dwarves as a people. So mahabrûf is a serious and intimate family concern.
