Chapter 36
After the excitement of the red moon eclipse, Fili found himself on a pony heading across a wide grassland, using a distant line of hills as the goal. He doubted they would reach it by nightfall, but maybe in one more day. Even in late Spring, these grasses were shoulder high to the ponies and undulated in gentle waves as the breeze rippled across the prairie. It was harder than it looked to find a path through it.
With him went a long line of ponies, both for riding and for packing, along with younger members of the Erebor Guard on foot.
It's good to be riding, he decided. Nothing but grass…and no self-respecting troll would be seen anywhere further than a full measure from stone.
"No more of that," he said as he pulled on the reins, preventing his pony from an unwise mouthful of green grass.
And as the morning went on, the biggest challenge was keeping them all moving forward...since the lure of grazing was all around and especially the pack ponies needed constant attention to keep them moving instead of eating.
Fili himself rode in plain traveling gear: leather coat, sturdy trousers, and of course, his twin swords. Beside him, his daughter Iri, wearing a similar coat, chattered as usual–and luckily her questions were aimed at her tutor and not him. He glanced at Lady Zêl, who preferred to ride with a cloak draped over her back, and exchanged a better you than me smile. Zêl of course, knew exactly how to divert Iri by asking her to calculate star angles in her head.
Fili, on the other hand, kept an eye on the ravens. His small escort flock flew high, catching thermals and flying in random patterns.
It always helped to have extra eyes on a grassland.
We crossed with Bilbo all those years ago, Fili reflected.
Of course, they'd been going in the other direction and had lost their fine ponies after rescuing them from trolls…only to turn them loose when orcs appeared. He'd heard many years ago that the Rivendell elves had rounded them up, but he wasn't sure that any elf had ever told Thorin about it.
And to be honest, he half-expected to come upon a troll or two on this trip–they were quite close to the Ettenmoors after all. Last time I was through here we were running for our lives…a bit south of here, though. He looked south as if expecting to see rocky outcroppings, but of course it was gently rolling grassland as far as he could see.
Not enough stone here for a self-respecting troll…but then again, there's not enough stone for a dwarf either…yet here we are.
He'd been busy not-listening to the excited post-eclipse chatter between Iri and Zêl when he noticed his lead lieutenant alerting and several of the forward guard dashing ahead into the grass to the left and the right..
What's this? He quickly scanned the undulating prairie (without alarming the ladies) and then heard the warning shout from the lead scouts.
"Ho!" he barked turning his pony in front of Zêls, "Round up!" He and Zêl quickly turned their steeds to protect the Princess, and moments later, the King's Guard, on pony and on foot, were all around them.
Overhead, a trio of ravens swooped low.
"Man man. One. Friend." they quorked. "Man."
"A man approaches," Fili murmured. "Alone. Maybe friend."
The guard commander beckoned foot soldiers, who formed a perimeter around the King's group, swords and axes ready.
Their loyal ponies remained steady, and Fili glanced at his daughter and saw her eyes following the ravens as they arrowed ahead, and he also noticed the hafts of her throwing knives uncovered on her coat.
Good lass, he thought. Iri was steady, but he noticed Zêl looking wide-eyed and pale.
"Easy now," Fili said calmly as he dismounted. "Ravens aren't worried." He strode forward, the lieutenant taking a position at his side. Ahead, a squad of archers had taken up position.
Fili stopped on a small rise with a good view of the sloping land ahead, the only movement from the breeze on the tall grass.
A raven dropped from the sky and he lifted one elbow to it. It landed and clutched the perch he offered.
"Man. Ready to talk. Frog."
Fili blinked, stared at the bird, then recalled the letters he'd had form his brother and almost rolled his eyes. "Frog…bank?"
The raven held still and looked at him. "Bak. Yes. Frog…bak."
Fili tried not to laugh. "Bank is too hard to say, huh? What else moves in this grass?" He asked.
"No orc, to gobs."
"Tell the flock: watch for orc and goblin and other men…alarm if any enemies."
The raven bobbed, looked skyward, then bobbed again.
"Up you go," Fili said, and he gave the bird a boost, sending it flapping away.
"One lone man, nothing else," he said to the lieutenant at his side, who knew of course that the King could speak with ravens.
"Aye, sir. We will meet him and find out who he really is."
Fili nodded and stayed put while the Guard rode forward with swords and axes drawn. At the base of the gentle hill, Fili saw them meet a single man on foot, tall with a short beard, wearing a leather jerkin bearing the outline of Gondor's many-branched White Tree.
Still, it was not a man that Fili recognized.
He watched as the man bowed, hand on heart to his lieutenant. He must have given a "friend" word, since the guards were calm, though of course no one sheathed a sword or axe and the archers, who were still hidden in the grass all around him, did not relax their bows.
At Fili's nod, the word was passed to allow the man to approach him.
Slowly, and with hands held open to the side, the man wearing Gondor's white tree emblem strode slowly up the little hill, a friendly smile on his face as he stopped ten steps back.
"Kenelm of the Dunedain, at your service," he said, bowing properly. "And with a message from Mr. Frogbank and my Lord Halden."
"Fili, at yours." Fili touched his heart, but did not bow. "Kenelm of the Dunedain. I will hear your message from Frogbank," he said, keenly aware that his guard, archers, and ravens were still very much on alert and scanning the surrounding grassland. Not even a sunning snake would evade them.
"My lord sends his greetings and asks that you accept my service as escort into Ranger lands. I can serve as liaison to any patrols we find. I do this service to honor your kin, who saved my life." At this, Kenelm placed his hand on his heart and made a slight head bow in honor.
Behind him, he heard a sharp "Heh," from his cousin Gimli just before the tall form of Legolas the Elf slipped past him, trotting forward to greet the man.
Fili's eyes narrowed, but after a moment he relaxed. The elf obviously knew this man and he was not foolish enough to ignore this as a good omen.
Kenelm shared a quick smile with Legolas and then turned back to Fili. His hand moved to a vest pocket and, aware that he was still the center of attention from a cadre of armed dwarves and a legendary elf, he slowly drew out two flat stones, holding them out in the palm of his hand. Legolas stood aside, eyed the offering and then looked at Fili with a relaxed expression that meant nothing to worry about.
But Fili felt as if he were turning to stone. Tokens could mean many things, not all of them good.
Curtly, he nodded for one of the guards to accept the offering and watched, his expression hard as steel as the armored lad walked forward and took the stones quickly, closing his gloved hand around them, before returning to Fili and going to his knee.
"Show me," Fili said.
The guard opened his hand.
Fili recognized both sigils.
His eyes narrowed as he looked back at the man. "How did you come by these?" he asked.
"Both came from the hands of the senders, both alive and well."
Fili let his breath deepen and considered.
"You have seen my brother," he said, referring to the black stone. Of course, he also had frequent raven messages from Kili.
But then Fili was silent, a technique he used that usually worked well. Stay quiet and the visitor would talk.
"My Lord," Kenelm said, clearly ready to say more. "By Brega's horse, your brother rescued me last winter from a pack of raiding ruffian men and goblins. I was injured and probably wouldn't have lasted another day." He shook his head slightly. "But a young dwarf in his company," Kenelm said gently, looking Fili in the eye. "Helped me along and brought me back to my people."
Fili stared at the second piece of smooth light grey granite in the guard's hand, etched with the rune for F. Most would assume the F stood for Fili. But he knew it did not.
Unbidden, he could hear in his mind the words Gandalf had spoken when he'd held the infant Gunnar back in Erebor. Gunz had been a baby—not even sitting up on his own yet. But Gandalf had taken up the lad, holding him reverently in both hands. A soft, rather beatific expression had come over the old wizard's face.
"Ah," he had breathed. "Do you know this one has the soul of Frey?"
Fili had been shocked and puzzled.
"The protector of peace and contentment," Gandalf had said with a gentle laugh. "Do not worry. Frey was a formidable swordwielder, enemy of outlaws, and known for his great bravery and wisdom." He had smiled and handed the wriggling bundle back to him, giving the touch of blessing to the lad's forehead. "He will bring you joy and happiness Fili, Mahal willing."
Fili blinked away the memory and fixed a stern gaze on the man. "This young dwarf is still with your people?" Fili asked, wondering if the man knew it was Gunnar.
"He is now with the Sons of Elrond in Annuminas," Kenelm added. "Working to make the ruins safe for the Midsummer visit."
Again, Fili stayed quiet.
Then he heard two things: a shocked gasp that sounded like Lady Zêl, followed by the younger and more feminine voice of his daughter. "Gunnar!" she breathed, getting quickly off her pony and stepping forward to accept the stones from the hands of the startled dwarf kneeling before her father. She turned, her bright, wide eyes meeting Fili's.
His first reaction was a flare of anger at her impulsiveness.
But Iri's bright eyes, though blue like his own, were the wide, round shape of her mother's eyes.
His anger evaporated as she brought the stones to him, holding them reverently as if to say See? Gunnar sends you oshmikh! Honored greetings! Quickly, she put the stones into Fili's hands.
For a moment he looked at them, considering what subtle messages the stones might be conveying from his brother and his second son. Kili's stone was solid, as he himself had been these past few years since accepting Ered Luin's throne. Fortitude…purpose.
But Gunnar's was different. Fili considered it a moment longer before he sensed his son's demeanor…keen mind…serious spirit. Soul of Frey.
He looked up to see Iri's bright eyes again and his tense mood vanished. His brother. His children. His true wealth.
"Yes," he murmured, smiling at her. "They are well."
Then he recalled himself to duty, thanked the guard, and motioned for those still surrounding Legolas the Elf and the man Kenelm to stand down.
"Come, friends," he motioned to them. "We have a ways to ride before stopping for a mid-day rest. Catch me up on the details. Tell me what you know."
The moment Zêl heard Fili murmur that there was a man, she knew there was no escape. There was no option to flee, no option to silently retreat to her well protected chambers, nothing.
A man... a man...
She tried to breathe, but there was no air at all.
Long ago... different times... long past... she repeated again and again in her head. But it wasn't any good at all. As much as she struggled to fight back her panic, the images were way too much ingrained in her brain. She felt her hands clutching her pony's reins while King Fíli dismounted and stepped forward to talk to a raven.
The blood rushed in her ears, drowning out everything that was spoken around her. Once more she suppressed the urge to turn her pony around and disappear as fast as possible. But she had vowed to protect Iri, and to that she stood, no matter how hard it was right now.
She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head to dispel the images and focused on breathing. Slowly she sucked in the air through her nose and blew it out between her lips even more slowly.
In... and out again... long ago... different times... long past...
She avoided looking the man in the face. She stared at the white tree, elaborately adorning his leather vest. A Dúnedain, and he knew words for a friend. But still.
Keep breathing.
Zêl watched the elf greeting the man, watched Fíli indicating his guard to take the stones the man brought.
Different times... there is no danger from a Dúnedain.
But then Iri slipped past her, taking the stones. The princess stood right in front of the man.
Mahal!
Zêl fought her panic and one thought gave her strength: I serve and protect the Princess of Erebor at the request of the King. Nothing will keep me from this task.
At the same time, many leagues west, on the far bank of the River Lune, Kili was also riding with a caravan of dwarves outfitted for battle…the Ered Luin Guard. And while coming across more orcs or brigands was unlikely, he well knew that a Son of Durin could never assume the odds of evading trouble were zero.
He was also musing on raven messages…this morning there had been one from his beloved Nÿr, telling him that they had watched the eclipse and the boys had "eyes like pies," according to the raven.
Kili smiled to himself at the silliness of raven speech.
He was glad that his lads saw the eclipse. It's just the natural way of moon and sun, he told himself. Nothing untoward. Just like this fog and cold dampness is the natural way of the river. The mist made everything wet, but it wasn't unwelcome. We are well cloaked in this mist…
Again, nothing untoward. And the ravens could fly above it, could reconnoiter as always. If there was danger they would know. They always knew…even before he did.
They knew about my lady Nÿr before I did, for one thing. He had been ill with yet another round of morgul fever the winter when she had come to Erebor with the Ered Luin contingent. But the ravens knew her for a Daughter of Durin even before he'd guessed it.
But I wasn't at my best that night, he conceded to himself.
—-
Erebor, 36 years earlier….
Heart thumping from another nightmare of spiders and orcs, Kili woke a second time to the sound of quietly trickling water...then the gentle touch of a warm, damp cloth on his forehead and the heady scent of steaming athelas. Ale barrels and wood smoke...the memory of better times past. It nearly lured him back to sleep. Yet these were her hands cupping his jaw, soothing his brow. Oh, Lass… He knew it was her—the sweet healer Nÿr.
Mine...but not mine. Never mine. He clenched his jaw against the urge to lean into her hand, to press his lips to the inside of her wrist. What would I not give for this lass in my life…
But when he moved, he turned his head away and his thoughts were dark. She deserves better than a cursed old warrior who can never leave his brother's land.
"Are you awake?" she murmured.
His eyes opened a little and he saw her—the tall form of the lass he would have to forget.
She looked back at him, all healer efficiency. She was checking his eyes, the temperature of his skin, tucking the blanket around him.
Mahal, he realized, seeing that something had changed. She knows it too, then. Knows she has to move on… Unexplainably, this hurt far more deeply than he'd thought.
He petulantly shrugged one arm out from under the blanket and scrubbed at his ear. Why was everything so damned disjointed when the fever came?
Her sober expression assessed him. Then that cute swing of her hip...and she moved a pot of athelas closer, fanning the steam over him.
He let his hand fall back to the covers as the sudden tension dissipated in a confusing swirl of frustration and relief. After a few calming breaths he looked up at her again. The tail-end of her long braid, now slightly damp, hung near his hand and on impulse, he touched it again.
She went still.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he said softly.
She said nothing for a long moment. He caught her eye and they looked at each other.
"I'll do my best as a healer," she said, her words sounding rehearsed. But when she looked away, her voice dropped. "I'm not a worthy partner for you, Kili. You know that. All of Dale knows it." She shook her head. "The rumors about me have not been forgotten, I assure you."
He felt his eyebrows twitch and forced his blurry brain to work. "I thought I was the one…" he managed. "Unfit for a lass like you."
She looked at him in alarm.
It soothed the part of him that had felt hurt by her coolness. "I'd hoped this morgul fever was all over…" he tried to say it lightly and shrug off the despair of his curse, but his words came out sounding pained. He let his breath out in a small huff. "It's not..."
Her perfect green eyes were full of welling tears and she shook her head. "No," she confirmed. "It's not." Yet she did not cry for him, did not give in to tears.
Oh, my brave lass. "Mahal…" he mumbled. "I don't want to lose you," he said, feeling it deep in his heart but only half aware that something had prompted him to say it aloud.
"My lord," she said carefully. "I would not presume that one night of…"
"No," he said, feeling oddly alarmed and trying to rise. "That was not a casual, throw away thing. You," he said, looking her in the eyes. "Are not a throw-away person. Not to me." He swallowed, expecting now to hear the words he'd always feared. It's too much. I don't understand it.
"And stop calling me Lord." His words were barely above a whisper.
"Lay back and rest," she murmured. "You are unwell…" Her arm was around him and she eased him back to the pillow, and he let her do it—anything as long as it meant she stayed close to him. He could even smell the clean scent of sage oil soap, feel the gentle strength of her…
She shushed him then, one thumb gently stroking his forehead. His eyelids became suddenly heavy and he half raised one eyebrow in surprise at the trick.
And then he was asleep again.
When Kili woke the third time, he was alarmed by the sound of a scuffle outside his chamber. He sat up, his instinct to rise warring with a complete lack of strength and balance. And instead of throwing off his covers and grabbing his sword he found himself simply trying brace himself well enough to sit upright.
And there was Nÿr, opening the door to find a large, glossy raven who hopped inside and then flew for the back of a chair.
"Oh!" Kili heard her gasp, and part of his brain wondered if this was some kind of odd fever dream.
"Hen-hen...hen-hen…" The raven seemed to bow to the lass like a fledgling would defer to an elder. Then it eyed him. "King commands: Raven Prince in great hall," the raven quorked, pinning Kili with a steady look.
"Now?" Kili heard her ask the bird. "He's not quite well. It would be better if…"
"Now," the bird said. "King says now."
"Yes, sir bird," Nÿr acquiesced, making a small curtsy. "Please tell his lordship that his brother will be there."
With that the bird eyed Kili again, then launched itself into the air and out of the chamber.
Kili stared, still trying to sort fever brain from reality.
"Here. I can help you get ready," Nÿr said, finding his cast-off robe.
Kili just blinked at her. "The raven," he said, trying to get his thoughts in order.
"Yes. He brought a message from your brother."
"But you understood him."
Nÿr seemed unconcerned as she shook out the robe. "Ravens are not that hard to…"
"Yes, they are," Kili told her, eyes wide. "That's an uncommon skill. Really uncommon." She held out the robe.
Kili grabbed it, suddenly embarrassed by her simple gesture. "And since when did you become my personal nurse?''
He saw Nÿr's posture freeze. Mahal, he was an ass when he didn't feel well.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching to touch her hand. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just...I want a friend, not a servant." He leaned his forehead against her arm. "If you would have me," he said. "Now that you know."
He wondered if she thought him truly tainted and unacceptable, infected as he was with a poisoned wound.
Nÿr's face was still, but her eyes blinked, as if she were thinking. "I'm just an orphan girl who grew up to be a healer," she said, slowly. "No one would ever take my Choice for you seriously even if I spoke of it."
"I would," he said firmly. "And if you can talk to ravens, you're not 'just an orphan girl'."
Then three other realizations quickly came together in his fuzzy brain. First, she was Durin-blooded, had to be…or the ravens wouldn't speak to her. Second, she would be hunted for it, and three: that story about the man in Dale trying to get her to leave with him? It meant someone else suspected as much and had already tried once to possess her against her will.
Mahal...how had no one known? The Grey Mountains wanted him for a marriage...but fact was, all they needed was her. Alone...with no kin to protect her.
Unacceptable. No. The horror of what would happen to her made his guts icy. I can't let them find out about her…
Kili slid from beneath the covers, intending to stand but wobbling and grabbing the bedframe for support instead.
Nÿr frowned, reaching out to help support him. "I don't understand."
He looked at her, his fevered eyes nearly level with hers. "Then it's a good thing that I do."
"Tell me what you're worrying about," Skirfir's voice shook him from his memories.
"Not about the here and now, apparently," He smiled at Skirf. The lad's voice was deeper and less child-like than it had been in those days. His ushmar-lad was nearing full adulthood…a dwarf full grown and far wiser than most.
"You worry about her," Skirf guessed.
"Yes. Sons of Durin are hunted…lassies of Durin even moreso."
Skirf wasn't the type to offer platitudes. Instead he nodded, acknowledging the problem. "She should be in the Shire by nightfall…she'll send another raven in the morning. And we will both see her when we get to Annuminas," he said, his voice firm.
Kili smiled at Skirf's certainty…and breathed in a deep breath, glad to have the company of his accidental foster son and trusted swordbrother.
"Yes," he said, feeling his heart lift. "And nothing would keep me from it."
.
.
A/N. Thanks for reading! I swear everyone will be in Annuminas soon! But whether all is safe there, I can not yet reveal. Shout out to the fabulous Jessie152 who is writing the part of Zêl in this story. Like Skirfir, she is a swordbrother...er, maybe pen-sister. :D. Hand on heart to Jessie and to all of you... As always, drop a note, even if you just say hi! - Summer
Khuzdul translation credit to the Dwarrow Scholar's online Neo-Khuzdul Translation Tool. (Google it.)
oshmikh = Honored greetings