Chapter 13

At sunrise, Kili, King of Ered Luin, stood with one guard on a gravelly shoal mid-way across the northern Lhun, somewhere north of the standing stones. In the trees behind him, a small band of Khelethur ravens flapped and rustled as if fretting over something they could not see.

This could be a trap, he considered. In fact, it was eerily like a similar morning decades ago, before the end of the war. Only he had been standing on the gravelly shore of the Long Lake at the foot of Erebor, and the threat had been Easterlings.

"Horse," his guard murmured, pointing into the mist.

"Five," Kili added, as a small group of men slowly rode forward, their gear indistinct.

Skirfir joined them, having been on guard at their backs. "Two more approach from the east," he said in a low voice. "Elf, hobbit."

Kili nodded, standing his ground, eyes fixed on the men.

The horses continued forward, stepping carefully. From the east, a grey-clad elf and a curly-headed hobbit stepped (and jumped) across a rivulet to join the dwarves.

"Elladan and Merry," Kili said in a deep voice to his guard. They were now five (dwarves, elf, and hobbit) facing the five men.

The horses stopped.

One of the men dismounted, walking forward, the hilts of sword and knives outlined in the early morning light. Slowly, the man began to raise one hand.

Kili's dwarf guard raised his axe an inch higher.

But the man's gloved fingers splayed against his own chest, hand on heart as his face became clear.

"Halden," Kili murmured.

The commander of the Dunedain glanced over the dwarves, elf, and hobbit.

"Master Merry," Halden said, inclining his head toward the hobbit as he correctly greeted the honored Member of the Fellowship before the King of Ered Luin or the Lord of Rivendell.

Elladan, Kili, and Halden exchanged nods and Kili raised a hand and signaled to the dwarf warriors waiting in the woods on the western bank.

Two rode forward: one dumped a pile of ragged cloth and stringy hair on the gravelly shoal before Halden as one of the Dundain also rode forward and handed down a short rider who had been seated pillion.

Gunnar, Kili recognized the lad with relief as the two riders slowly wheeled around to rejoin their fellows.

Gunz put one hand over his heart as a quick greeting to his uncle and knelt. With gloves on, he examined the carcass, searching for pockets.

Elladan focused on the pile of cloth and hair. He pulled a long knife, kneeled, and poked at the pile. He moved aside a bit of cloth, revealing a hideous face covered in warts and scars. Then his blade picked up the end of a rough chain with an odd assortment of trinkets attached.

"You have found the one called Shadowback," Elladan said, looking up at Halden. "She is clearly dead. Good work, my friend."

Kili glowered at the dead goblin in acknowledgment.

"The ravens were a great advantage," Halden said, looking at Gunnar. "They marked the position of her fellows we stopped them heading north."

Gunnar pulled a pile of objects from the dead goblin's odd belt sack. "A mess of sticks and stones…wads of herbs…" he said in a quiet voice. He was still for a moment as if considering something unseen. Then he looked at his uncle. "But no spell magic in any of these things."

Elladan's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the young dwarf. "You are Stonespire trained…"

"Apprentice only, my Lord."

Elladan raised one eyebrow. "Still…a son of Durin skilled in Durin's own art…your sense of stone and metals is stronger than mine. My sense of empowered objects, however, tells me that while there is nothing here now, this creature did carry something for a significant time. It has left an echo."

Kili said nothing. Durin or not, these magics bothered him. The presence of something that had survived the war and come into this part of Middle Earth was disturbing. He knew the ancient history of these lands, including Ered Luin and especially Eregion. Somewhere in the lands of the north, Celebrimbor and Sauron had forged rings, among other things.

Kili was ever wary of any and all remnant magic.

Gunz nodded. "The ravens also sense this echo…they are uneasy."

"Yes," Kili said.

"Uneasy how?" The elf stood and looked to the distant trees where the small flock could be heard muttering and clacking their beaks.

"Something is still out there," Merry guessed, his brows lowered.

Halden glanced toward the eastern bank. "The horses are also oddly subdued." He took a deep breath. "One of these vermin has slipped our noose."

Kili suddenly understood. "And it carries this thing—this artifact—in Shadowback's place."

Elladan sighed. "And it will make for Annuminas."

Merry's hand went to his sword hilt. "We have one month before the first of Aragorn's men arrive. Two months before Aragorn himself."

Everyone looked up, as if they could see through the morning mist to the north and east.

"It's two days' hard ride to the lake," Elladan said.

Halden nodded. "It is time we occupy the ruins and claim them as our own." He looked at Gunnar and Elladan. "Surely we can outpace a single goblin…"

Kili agreed, but he was unwilling to think anything was certain where goblin-kind was concerned. "Gentlemen," he said. "I have a Kingdom to manage. My duty is there. With your permission, my nephew will stay with you and I will return to my halls. I leave you to it."

Halden made a hand on heart bow to Kili. "The Ravenspeaker lad is most welcome."

"Thank you, my lord," Gunnar smiled up at the tall Dunedain.

Kili stepped forward to embrace his nephew, noting with pride that in this moment, Gunz looked every bit the warrior his father was. He leaned forward to touch foreheads briefly. "Be safe. Du bekar," he murmured. "I'll see you in Annuminas when Aragorn arrives."

Gunnar nodded again, his young face stern as they stepped back from each other.

"I will also go with Halden," Elladan said. "I think my path also leads to Annuminas."

With that settled, Halden called forward Gunnar's rider and a spare horse for Elladan.

As the travelers mounted, Merry spoke up, looking at Kili. "I will travel with you back to the Tower Hills, if I may," he said.

"At your service, my dear Master of Buckland," Kili bowed.


Three hours later, Kili's small flock of ravens returned from patrol with an all-clear report for the area between their position and the lands around the White Towers. They stopped on the river's edge at a place where the top of the northernmost tower was just visible in the distance.

Kili welcomed the late morning sun on his face and after a passing comment from Merry that the little river cove offered both privacy and warm, shallow water, Kili took the hint.

They arrived in time for Merry's Second Breakfast.

He ordered the dwarves to avail themselves of a bath…and laughed much at the antics of Skirf and the younger fellows as they staged a mock attack on each other.

Kili settled for a swim and a dunk and even washed his hair after digging through his saddlebag for a block of soap made by his lady wife. He sniffed it with suspicion, discovered it smelled mostly like pine bark, and decided it was best to use it. He emerged from the water and dried off in the sun…then dressed with fresh clothes, took his leathers to Merry's campfire in time for a few sausages, mushrooms, and potatoes (choosing to ignore the "something green" in the hash in the interest of good relations.)

"It's good, this," he said to Merry.

Merry grinned as Kili wolfed it down. "Not the kind of royal provender you get at home, I'm afraid."

"You forget," he said while chewing, "how many years we lived rough." He smiled. "And I am always grateful for hearty hobbit food." He made a quick hand-on-heart gesture.

Merry held up his flask in tribute. "We've got a mass of orders for food, wines and ales for Aragorn's summer visit. He means to have a party to rival Bilbo's, I think. In fact, I believe you will find invitations when you return to your hall."

Kili chewed another mouthful and looked to the water as Skirf's group cheered, apparently having prevailed in some part of the water skirmish.

He smiled. "Tell me more," he says. "What," he chewed a bit more and swallowed. "Exactly does Aragorn expect?"

Merry plopped the last of the hash onto Kili's plate and busied himself with clean-up and re-packing of his cooking gear.

"Well, a party of immense proportions, first of all. We," by this Kili understood his friend to mean hobbit-kind, "Will be meeting him on the Road outside Buckland and providing escort up the Brandywine to Annuminas. Horse and pony, of course." Merry looked especially concerned for a moment and lowered his voice. "No boats need be involved."

Kili, his plate now clean, added it to Merry's small stack of gear to rinse in the river and pulled out pipeweed, offering some to Merry. Together they sorted the leaves and packed their pipes.

Merry continued. "On midsummer's night there is to be a grand procession…each of us," Merry made a you/me gesture that Kili understood as dwarves, elves, men and hobbits, "Will show off our kind. The Hobbits," he lowered his voice. "Will be staging a grand rolling party." He winked, "That will stop before the King's reviewing stand." He nodded and grinned. Then he became sober. "And there'll be some words…pledging our support, all that." He bent to light his pipe, puffed to get it started. "Oh, and a presenting of histories."

Kili frowned. "What…a storyteller? That'll take a month…"

"No, no. Written down. Like presenting a book. Just the War of the Ring, mind you. Sam's got a copy of Bilbo and Frodo's Red Book. He's set to hand it over in a big show. It's for the Minas Tirith archive, you know."

Kili smiled at the thought. He knew about Bilbo's book…though he'd never read it. He wondered what was in there about his uncle.

And the entire company, in fact. He and Fili included. Had he written down that thing with Tauriel…or left it out?

Then he shook his head. "I'm not sure the dwarves have any such thing…beyond Balin's notes, anyway." He looked away and drew on his pipe. And THAT tome was currently buried under several tons of stone deep inside Moria. "And I've no idea what's in the Khelethur library." He became quiet, recalling that Brunsmund had once entered Khelethur through a secret passage into the document archive's lower level, quite thoroughly shocking one of the old archivists. We pondered a moment, wondering exactly what was down there in that dusty old place. "Records of rights agreements…" he said. Then shrugged. "Most of the tomes in the archives cover mining rights. Not," he said with certainty. "What Aragorn wants in Minas Tirith's Hall of Records. I'm certain of that."


Fili spent his morning sparring in the training ring with his toughest lieutenants. It was one part workout for him and one part training for the lads...who, he was pleased to know, could still be surprised by an old warrior who carried a bag of battle tricks, as old Dwalin would say. After practice and a shower, he headed for Iri's rooms in the Royal suite.

When he entered his daughter's chambers, his smile was met with a hug.

"I have so many questions..." she said.

He noticed long lists of "what to pack" on her wall slates. Ah, youth.

"I might be a King living in a mountain with every convenience, but I well remember how to travel with one set of leathers and my fighting blades." He looked at Iri and wondered how best to help her understand that she couldn't bring the things she'd carefully listed. "When we came here with my uncle, Kili and I were the sharp-eyed youngsters. Now," he said to his daughter. "I will rely on your sharp eyes, Iri my lass." He grinned at her. "Pack light," he said to her and Zêl. "There's no reason to bring gowns and finery. Just your fighting gear." There. He'd been blunt about it, but it was necessary.

Iri looked confused. "But I will need…"

Fili shook his head. "In battle, the winners walk away only with the things tied to whatever gear is left to them. No more." Mahal, he remembered learning this lesson the hard way. "When we barreled out of Thranduil's prison, we had only our boots and undercoats." He raised an eyebrow at her, hoping she understood his point.

"But the star-gazing tools," Zêl said. It was not a question.

Fili considered a moment. "Only what can be carried through a fight," he said with finality. "Things you can use in defense." With that, he nodded once and strode away.


Iri stared after him. Of course, she'd heard stories of his journey to Erebor her entire life—and as eager as she was to take a journey of her own, she simply blinked at the idea of having nothing more than her gear. She had been thinking only of how to reduce the pack ponies from seven to three.

"So, no pack ponies," she said aloud.

Zêl sighed.

They looked at each other. The sky-viewer was the problem. It could be disassembled to ride on a pony, but it was too heavy to carry, even for a strong dwarf.

"In a way," Iri said, "The sky viewer is a defensive tool."

"Thranduil's dream?"

Iri nodded. "I know that seeing portents in these things is silly, but there are others in Middle Earth who don't."

"And if there's a new element..." Zêl added.

"Like a comet," Iri's eyes brightened.

Zêl's eyebrows went up in agreement. "And we would need to know—need to mark its position, project its path…"

"Yes," Iri started to pace, looking (though she did not know it) exactly like her father when he stewed on a problem. "And fully understand what stars it might cross as it transits."

They looked at each other. That, they both knew, was exactly the kind of portent that orc-kind would use.

"Remember the invasion of Moria…" Zêl whispered.

Iri's eyes went round. The histories said that in the weeks before Moria's fall, a long-tailed comet had been seen, reflected in the Mirrormere.

"I'm off to see Hannar," she said suddenly. "I have some things to pick up—and I'm going to ask him for ideas…"


Three days later at nightfall, Kili rode along a narrow trail in the pines, accompanied by Skirfir and a small company of Blue Mountain dwarves. They were making for the Lower Outpost, a half days' ride from the granite valley that served as the King's Residence.

Khelethur… The image of the lodge set against the base of towering stone filled his mind. He'd lived most of his lifetime in Erebor...but in his heart, Khelethur was home. He'd been born here, after all.

And it was the sanctuary of his young family.

Ahead, the lead rider slowed and raised one hand. The ponies stopped.

This was the usual protocol...stop and assess the area before approaching the Outpost. While his escort made the visual checks and contact with a perimeter guard, Kili raised his hand for a raven. Would any of them still be flying? It was getting close to their roosting time, after all.

There. A sleek hen quorked, her call echoing in the quiet woods. In the distance, the answers of others.

The dwarves around him went silent as wings flapped and the hen alighted on his hand.

"All is well," the raven told him, pausing to preen her upper wing. She shook her head and pinned him with one amused (or so he thought) eye. "She approaches." Then the hen made a sound halfway between a laugh and a throat rattle and then launched herself, wheeling over his head and calling to her friends. Then, half a flock descended on them, flying overhead and making for the Outpost as if in a great hurry.

Kili watched, his eyes intent. Was this a sign of trouble?

No. These ravens were not arrowing straight into a fight...they were tilting and weaving around each other...a display of…

Mischief?

"What are they up to?" Skirfir wondered.

"I'm not sure," Kili said slowly. "Though I have an idea. They tell me she approaches."

Skirfir's face brightened and tried not to grin. "Look sharp!" he called to the guards and he urged his pony out of line and jogged forward.

Kili followed. From here, the trail narrowed and switchbacked up a short ridge, but the ponies knew a well-stocked stable lay ahead and though they'd been working all day, their noses spurred their legs into a last burst of energy.

They passed beneath a stone lintel and then around a curve into the Outpost's wide bailey.

There she is…

He stared. His love, his lady wife, still astride her own pony and obviously just arrived.

Of course, she was also the Queen, but at the moment she was the simple healer he'd fallen for-practical riding leathers and cloak, long black braid down her back.

He was off his pony before Skirf, striding forward to offer his assistance to her dismount.

Their eyes met, she drew in a breath, and reached for his hand...and then she was out of the saddle and into his arms.

"My love," he murmured after the first kiss. "I have missed you."

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A/N: Thanks for reading! As always, please leave a comment or review if you can-it helps me stay focused on the NEXT chapter :D Extra thanks to Jessie152 for proofing and beta reading. (Kudos, mellon!) Hoping all of you are well and managing through these times-take care, and hand on heart to you. Final note: the "original" version of story 2 has published on Amazon (and many other ebook platforms) under the title "Fate of the Raven Guard" by S.K. Alden, in case you are inspired to check it out. I also have an author page on Goodreads: S.K. Alden. THIS story is about to take a dive into the lads doing some backflashes into those first days in Erebor when Fili was first crowned King...because Aragorn wants to know. ;P - Summer