Dear readers, I hope this year has been kind to you so far. I wish you good luck in the months to come, and may all your dreams come true!
A new chapter was long overdue, and I am sorry for not coming back sooner. I landed a new job, which consumed most of my spare time until now. But, I will not give up on this story just yet. :)
Furthermore, thank you, ArticWolf0709, Nahal, animexchick, crh1289, floorspace24, ANIMEFAN426, Copycat25, GodzillaSquatch91, Lumiere D'Amour, Melanina, Shannyrox101, Thehonourableermine, eeemkaaayy, justKILIme, lysia1982, and last but not least, AroVolturi, for your interest in this story, as well as your favourites and follows.
I have to add a special thank you to ro781727. I will always be grateful for your support. And thank you, eeemkaaay and Copycat25, for your lovely reviews. In a moment of doubt, your words gave me the courage to keep writing.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit. This piece of writing is made purely for entertainment.
CHAPTER FIVE
The water was still rippling from the Orcs disappearance when Olwen groaned, scrambling to her feet.
She had to warn the others. Although it might be difficult to explain how she knew about the army - especially who had told her - it did not swayed her in the slightest. Having wiped her face with her sleeve, she was about to begin her stagger back into the house when a creak, quiet and sudden, made her wheel around; and she stared at the figure that was now beside her.
For how long Fíli had been there, she was uncertain. Even so, he must have seen enough of her interrogation. Olwen could find no other reason why he remained where he was, staring wide-eyed at the lake below. However, his silence was not what concerned her the most. Had it not been for the wind, playing with a few strands of his hair, he would have appeared utterly frozen in place.
"Fíli?", she breathed. That prompted him to finally shift, and he averted his gaze from the water. "We're in trouble."
"Really?", he replied flatly.
"Look, we don't have much time left." The thought of a horde of beings, like the one she had spoken to, sent a shudder through her. "The Orcs could be here soon enough."
His frown deepened. "Are you going somewhere?"
"Aye. Far from Laketown."
Her legs were not as steady as she had expected, yet she kept going nonetheless, ambling for the staircase. That is, until she heard Fíli's steps approaching.
"You won't make it far, hobbling like that", he pointed out, doing his best to catch up.
"As long as I'm not around when they come, the distance won't matter." Olwen picked up the pace, but he was faster, darting in front of her only to halt at the bottom of the stairs. She soon stopped, as well. "You're in my way."
"They are coming from the south", he said in a low voice.
"I know", she replied impatiently, "I heard." She took a step sideways, trying to move around him. He did not let her, though. Instead, he rushed up the stairs before he halted once more, this time on the third step, and she let out a small huff. "Fíli, that's enough. I must go."
"There's only one road leading here, not counting the Mirkwood path", he added, "They may already be on it."
"If I make haste, I might not run into them."
"Are you willing to take that chance?"
Olwen eyed him in bewildrement, having realised they were at the same height. The steps beneath his feet had made him as tall as her and, in a different time, she would have found it almost endearing. But, now her thoughts turned to a more pressing matter.
The longer she entertained the idea of running down the road, the more faults she saw in her plan. And though unwillingly, she had to admit that the dwarf was right. Even if she left the town at once, there was no telling when she would stumble upon the Orcs. Nonetheless, she held her ground, along with his gaze.
"I can handle a few Orcs, but not an army", she said quietly. To her embarrassment, her fear pushed through, causing her voice to quiver. "I cannot stay here."
"It looks like we both have to".
She caught sight of Fili's hand shaking on the chair before he tightened his grip. He must have been as afraid as she was. But, she was unsure what to say to him, which was why she kept going. This time, Fili stepped out of her way, letting her reach the familiar - and pleasantly warm - kitchen.
Sadly, her relief did not last. As it turned out, she had chosen to come in the middle of an argument between Sigrid and Tauriel, with Óin listening from close by.
"-no word since they left", Sigrid spoke, gesturing towards the front door, "None. And it's been hours."
"It's too dangerous", Tauriel warned her, "You could get caught before you reach the next street."
"They could be in trouble. I have to find them."
"Who?", Olwen wondered out loud.
Sigrid flinched away, startled by her presence. Meanwhile, Tauriel faced her slowly as though she had known that Olwen was there all along. And it was then that Olwen felt anger kindling in her gut. If the she-elf had not persuaded her to leave the dungeon, none of this would have happened.
"Her father and brother", Tauriel replied, "They left the house a while ago and they have not returned."
"That is not our only problem", Fili's voice interjected.
All of a sudden, everyone turned towards him, and Olwen knew exactly what would happen. The others would not take the news well. Perhaps she would have betted on that, if she had not been growing tenser by the second.
First thing's first. As Fíli started talking, she quickly drew Tauriel's attention, motioning towards the furthest corner of the house. They needed to talk, the sooner the better. Thankfully, the elf took the hint and they slipped away, halting by one of the covered windows.
"An Orc army is approaching", Olwen uttered, keeping her voice low, "They're coming from the south. And fast."
The moment she had said it, Tauriel became more serious than she had ever seen her.
"How do you know?", the elf whispered.
"A little bird whispered to me - or perhaps a little Orc." Unwilling to wait for her reply, Olwen sighed. "Do not lie to me, Tauriel. Did you know it would come to this? Is this why I am really here - to fight for your cause?"
Although the she-elf said nothing, there was a slight shift in her expression. For the briefest of moments, she seemed apprehensive, which Olwen understoood well. This was the first time she had used her power twice in one night.
"I had no such intention", the elf said icily, "This I swear on the stars." Soon after, she glanced around, making sure that nobody was close enough to hear them. "Do you know more?"
"There will be thousands of them, he said. Whoever gives the orders really dislikes these dwarves."
Barely did she say it when a movement stole her attention, causing her to lean to the side and glance behind Tauriel. Not far from them, Óin had slumped in the nearest seat, staring in front of himself, while Tilda appeared from somewhere just to cling to Sigrid. Fili had probably broken the news, by the looks of things.
"Olwen. What do you know?"
She winced at Tauriel's call, quickly shifting her focus back to the elf. "Right", she muttered to herself before continuing from where she had left off. "Gundabad. The Orc kept mentioning Gundabad, but he did not say why."
For the briefest of moments, Tauriel appeared confused. "Gundabad is north from here. Yet, the army is not."
That is a bit odd. "What do you think is out there?"
"I do not know. But, I know this - the family cannot stay here. They must find a place to hide."
"That won't happen."
Olwen and Tauriel whirled around, abruptly aware that Sigrid was standing behind them.
"We're not leaving without Bain and Da", she added.
"If you are so eager to find them, then do it", Olwen said, "Nobody is going to stop you."
"I can't leave Tilda here."
"You won't leave her with me, you mean."
Though Sigrid had fallen silent, her look showed what she did not dare to say. Olwen let out an exasperated sigh. If she had a sister herself, she would have also had qualms about leaving her in a necromancer's company. Despite that, Olwen had begun to feel irked by it all - that is, until something else abruptly crossed her mind.
Perhaps she was trapped in here. Yet, she was not going to sit on her hands and wait for the Orcs to arrive. Having placed a hand on the back of a chair, leaning against it for support, she turned fully to Sigrid.
"Your brother and father", she started, with a plan taking roots in her thoughts, "Did they say something?"
"Um, yes. I heard them mention the Master's house." Sigrid's brow knitted slightly, as if she had not expected that question. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I will find them for you."
Her baffled expression was nearly amusing, but Olwen remained serious.
"No." This time, it was Tauriel who spoke. "What if the guards come after you? What will you do then?"
"I will not sit on my hands and wait for the Orcs to come", Olwen answered, "I might as well make myself useful. And if that means finding her family, so be it."
Frankly, a part of her doubted this was a good idea. Yet, she decided to push on, before the little courage she had mustered was gone, and she focused back on Sigrid.
"Show me the way."
Sigrid did not hesitate this time. Having turned on her heel, she made it to the nearest window, pulling the curtain away just as Olwen made her way beside her. That was when Sigrid pointed a finger at one of the town houses, outlined against the light of the lanterns.
That's... quite impressive, Olwen thought. The house of the so-called Master was unlike any she had seen, narrow and with sharp edges, dwarfing the surrounding buildings. What made it seem even taller was the spire that rose out of its roof, like a watchtower of old.
"It is guarded at all times", Sigrid said, gazing at the building in apprehension, "I just hope Bain and Da are not in there. You will not get past the doors."
Before Olwen could say a word, someone stepped in between them, and she was a bit taken aback to find Tilda there. She still stood close to Sigrid, though.
"There is a shortcut. Over the rooftops." Ignoring Sigrid's puzzled look, the lass stole a glance through the window. "They're really steep, but they're leaning against each other - all the way to the house."
"How do you know that?", Sigrid asked.
"Bain showed me. Last summer." Tilda then looked at Olwen. "They won't see you from below. I'm sure."
Olwen let out a small sigh, her attention shifting up to the gaping hole in the ceiling, left by their guests. She almost regretted offering her help; yet, there was no going back now. She glanced around, searching, until her gaze landed on the kitchen table; and she went for it at once, hauling herself on top of its surface.
"Tauriel, could you help me a bit?", she wondered.
In a few steps, so light that the floorboards did not creak, the she-elf climbed on the table, as well.
"I hope you know what you are doing", she told her, just loud enough for Olwen to hear. She reached out then, her hands held together and fingers interlaced.
Olwen nodded, though her misgivings slowly grew. Honestly, she was also uncertain of how this would turn out. A part of her regretted accepting this task in the first place. Still, she raised her foot and Tauriel pushed her through the hole in the roof and into the freezing night outside. Clinging to the surrounding thatch, Olwen then clambered up, to the ridge not far from her.
The path to it was quite slippery, though.
"By the Valar's - !" A gasp escaped her as she nearly fell, after which she tightened her grip on the roof. Unfortunately, even that was difficult. Every piece of thatch was covered in frost, making her feel as though she was walking over a patch of ice.
"Are you well?", Tauriel's voice drifted from the house.
"Splendid", she muttered in reply. Choosing carefully where to hold on, she slowly, reluctantly, moved to the ridge, where she sat down by throwing one leg over it, and took in her surroundings.
Well, at least I won't get lost. Even in the lack of sunlight, the house was impossible to miss. Squinting at the top of the spire, she hoped that the rest of Sigrid's family was not in there.
She pressed both hands against the roof, but she did not get a chance to move, as someone emerged from the same hole she had, cautiously making his way to her.
"Fíli?", she whispered, watching him reach for the top of the room. However, the ridge remained beyond his fingertips, and she quickly leaned forward, offering her hand to him. "What are you doing?"
His hand closed around hers. "I'm coming with you."
"I don't need your help."
"You don't know what Bard looks like." His boots scraped against the shingles as he tried to climb. Realising that he would not give up, she helped him by pulling him up with all her strength. "And I owe him. So, I'm not going back."
For a moment, telling him to stay put crossed her mind. But, not because she wished to be alone. If she had trouble climbing the roof, she could only imagine what it would be like for a dwarf. Nevertheless, she chose to say nothing about it; they had a man and his son to find, and she had no idea how much time they had left.
She scooted slightly, letting him climb beside her.
.
.
With every rooftop they traversed, the winter tightened its grip further around them. They had not made it far when Olwen's breath started turning into steam. Unfortunately, retreating to the house without bard was out of the question, and their only path went forward as she clambered behind Fíli. Having seen him pass the next ridge, she slowly grasped the shingles above her, careful not to raise her injured arm too high.
"You've made a quite... daring escape, I heard", he whispered on her way up. She halted, though, since Fíli had peered from the other side of the roof.
"What did you hear?", he asked just as quietly.
"Something about barrels and drunken guards. And a waterfall." Olwen smiled in relief when he grasped her forearm, helping her clamber over the ridge and to the spot where he had settled himself. "If we somehow survive this, I'd like to know the whole story."
His eyebrows raised, as though the prospect amused him a little.
"And you shall." No sooner did he promise than he turned away. Yet, the troubled expression that passed his face did not escape her. He remained still for a while, watching something she could not see. "The dawn is not far."
"Aye", she breathed. Having settled on the ridge beside him, she took in their surroundings, only to feel that old unease pulling her taut, like an archer's hand would do to a bowstring.
It was unnerving, the thought of a horde of monsters marching for this place - and the fact that she did not know when that would happen. She muttered a curse, angry at herself for not obtaining more answers from the dead Orc. If she held on for a bit longer, she could have had something useful. But, all she could do now was make guesses, each sounding worse than the last.
The townspeople might have only days to prepare.
Unless they had just hours.
By the Valar, I hope I'm wrong. About all of it. Despite the thought, Olwen caught herself reaching down to the leg of her breeches. She patted down the fabric, searching until she felt the shape of Fíli's knife, the one he had left in his coat. It was a cold comfort to her, yet it was comfort still. If anything, she would have something other than her hands to defend herself with.
"I'll go first", Fíli suddenly whispered. Holding on to loose pieces of thatch, he began his slow descent towards the end of the roof, and Olwen - after a brief moment to steel herself - carried on as well. She grasped the same place he had before skidding closer to the edge. That is, until flickering lights on her right caused her to stop.
She already knew there were guards below the roof. There was no need for her to move closer. Yet, she did so anyway, moving inch by inch before she grasped the side of the roof, which overlooked a canal below. Almost at the same time, the guards rushed past the water, most of them carrying torches. Their reddish light made her think of fireflies as the men sped off into the night.
They found something. They wouldn't be so quick otherwise. Wondering what it might be, she glanced to the side, where Fili had just appeared. Not daring to make a sound, she raised a hand to draw his attention.
However, that was all she managed when a noise reached her ears. Low and crackling, it appeared to be coming from beneath the place they were crouching on.
And then the roof collapsed.
She did not recall much after that. In one heartbeat, she saw the part below Fíli break off. In the other, her shoulder was burning, for she was kneeling on the edge of the roof, with the dwarf hanging from her grip. Barely did she cry out when his weight yanked her down, and she shut her eyes, knowing they would both fall - when everything was suddenly brought to a halt.
Olwen pried one eye open. And then the other. They were not falling anymore and, to her surprise, it was all Fíli's doing. His left hand was still clasped between hers, but his right was clutching a blade she had not seen before, driven into the wooden wall of the house. He had pushed it deep enough to anchor both of them.
It was then that the guard's voices rang out in alarm. Fíli moved at once, using the blade for purchase and pushing himself up. Olwen helped by hauling him towards her, and they collapsed on the roof just as the guards arrived. A moment later, they scrambled over the shingles as fast as they could, reaching the other side, only to find a staircase that lead down. Despite how wobbly it was, they darted to the bottom and rushed behind the next house; that was where they stopped, crouching beneath a wall and a stack of empty barrels.
Whilst Fíli made sure they were not followed, Olwen leaned against the house, becoming aware of the pain she was truly in. The pulsating in her shoulder was quickly growing worse, enough to leave her breathless for a second. Having hung her head, she cradled her arm, only to feel something wet spreading under her sleeve - which probably meant that Óin's stitches had not held.
"Olwen..."
The whisper urged her to look up, straight at Fíli's worried face. He had noticed. Of course he had. It would've been a miracle if he hadn't.
"You're... heavier than you look", she tried to joke, but her tone ended up too forced for her liking. Meanwhile, he approached her, staring at her arm, with nothing but guilt etched over his face. But, instead of saying something, something caused him to look to the side.
Olwen did the same, only to freeze. A guard had appeared at the end of their alley, his armour glinting under the lanterns. On top of that, he was coming this way, and there was nothing they could do to escape him. Even if they ran at once, he would see them.
"Where are you going?", Fíli whispered incredulosly as Olwen pushed herself back to her feet. However, she had no time to explain. Smoothing her hair back into place and dusting off her breeches, she walked out of their hiding place, right in front of the guard.
He would not go after her, not at first. After all, the guards were looking for a dwarf. Not her.
"Uh, excuse me." She cleared her throat. He was quite taller than her, even more so with that pointy helm. "Excuse me. Have you seen Bard?"
"The bargeman?", the guard asked, to which she nodded in reply. "Why do you want to know?"
"I have unfinished business with him."
"Well, good luck with finishing it. He's in gaol."
If anything, she did not need to act surprised. "What?"
"'Tis true. He'll stay there 'till the Master figures out what to do with him." That was when the guard took a step closer. He narrowed his eyes at her, almost suspiciously, and his hand hovered near the sword at his belt. "Haven't seen you before, miss. You're not from here, are you?"
"No. I am not." Olwen stood still, while her mind was desperately searching for a good answer. She had to tell him something, anything to dispel his doubt. For a reason she could not fathom, she thought of that other guard, who had almost broken into the house.
Come on, think. What was his name, what was his name... "I am Braga's sister. I came yesterday to visit him, from my husband's town."
A corner of his lips twitched. "And Bard already ticked you off? Can't say I'm surprised. He tends to do that." Soon after, he became serious once more. "Look, miss. If that means so much to you, you could state your business to the Master. Maybe he can help you."
I seriously doubt that. "Thank you."
"You should go home now, miss. 'Tis not safe to be outside at this hour."
"Of course." Olwen moved away, hoping he would not notice how she braced her arm against her side. She thanked the Valar it was night. "I will go straight there."
"You know what? I'll escort you."
"Oh, you don't need to." Olwen mustered a smile, waving him off with her free hand. "It's not far. I just -"
"I'll have to insist." The guard glanced over his shoulder, checking something in the distance. "I don't want to disturb you, but something sneaked in here a while ago. A wild animal, they say. If you run into it on your way back, Braga will have my head."
Dread started to pool in her stomach. "I am sure that thing is gone. I haven't heard a thing so far."
"Better safe than sorry, miss." Before she could come up with a reply, the guard shifted closer to her, already ushering her down the alley. "Come with me."
Olwen stalled for a few seconds when his hand landed on her back. By that time, her heart thudded in fear. If she said something now, he would start to suspect her; which was why she merely nodded. Swallowing hard, and hoping he had not caught that, she walked with him out of the alley and beside one of the canals.
Still, she would not go to Braga's house. The last thing she needed was involving another guard, and possibly his whole family, into this mess. The fact that the guard was so keen on escorting her was not helpful at all. I have to get rid of him, she thought grimly, And fast.
"Difficult journey?", the guard asked all of a sudden. He nodded at her. "Is that how you hurt your arm?"
Olwen felt every muscle in her body tense. "Aye. But, it's all right." Trying not to quicken her pace, she shrugged with her good shoulder. "It could've been worse."
The guard let out a low hum, his focus moving elsewhere. Having crossed a bridge over the water, they were now in what appeared to be a marketplace. In the feeble light of a lantern, she could discern one of the stalls as they passed it. She looked away, though, once the guard led her to the side, to a passage between two houses.
"You're very good", the guard spoke then, his voice almost a whisper, "But, Braga has no sisters."
By the time she faced him, his sword was halfway out of its sheath. Yet, that was all he did when she gave him a well-aimed kick. Groaning in pain, he doubled over before dropping to his knees, which she took as a chance to run. She only managed to turn around, though, when his hand grabbed her ankle; he wrenched her out of balance and she fell, crashing into the wooden dock below.
The impact left her short for breath. Her side throbbed, but she pushed herself onto her back, in time to see the guard come for her - until a solid thwack sent him keeling over. He slumped to the floor, and Olwen gawped as she discovered Fili behind him, gripping a hefty oar.
For a few seconds, she was lost for words. However, the fact that he was here, and not in the alley, was not the only reason. Her power, having been pushed back for so long, used her fear to slip through her hold. She felt its presence by her side, like a dear, yet impatient friend.
"Are you all right?", Fíli asked. Having no intention to tell him the truth, she nodded. That seemed to put him at ease a little. "Stay there. I've got this."
The moment he set down the oar, Fíli went to the guard. He grabbed him by the legs and, with a strength disproportionate to his short stature, he dragged the man out of sight, leaving him behind a wooden fence. In the meantime, Olwen slowly sat up, using a nearby stall as a brace for pushing herself upright.
Magic is the water in your hand. The words drummed into her sounded as if spoken yesterday, instead of years. Lose your focus, and it slips through your fingers. So, hold it, lass. And hold it steady. Clenching her jaw, Olwen bowed her head, doing all she could to reign in her fear along with her power, which struggled against her hold.
The struggle lasted. But, somehow, with all she had, she pushed it back from whence it had come. Its call, once so close to her ear, became too distant to be heard. Even so, she did not feel glad for her victory.
One day, she would lose. And that day was closing in.
"We should go", Fíli said as he returned, tugging her into the present. "The others will look for him." He soon stopped in the middle of the dock. "Do you see that?"
"What?" Olwen turned in the same direction, gazing at the most unlikely of places. The Lonely Mountain, which towered over every house, had a small, glowing spot in the middle, as though someone had lit a fire over there.
"Is that a beacon?", she wondered.
"No." It took some time for Fíli to find his voice. "Though I wish it was."
The moment he said it, the ground beneath them shook.
.
.
Óin, son of Gróin, frowned at the baskets and fishing nets that were moving on the rafters. Apparently, everything they had been through was not nearly enough. They had been pursued by an Orc pack, hunted down by another, and fearing that Kíli might not see the dawn, yet they still had to endure an earthquake. If we reach Erebor in one piece, I might eat my trumpet, he grumbled to himself. He also sent one last glare upwards before he turned back to the hearth - and his guest.
"This happens a lot, master Óin." Sitting on the floor by the fire, the bargeman's youngest glanced at him in sympathy. "You'll get used to it."
The healer was not ready to agree. He kept the thought to himself, however. Once he knelt on the floorboards beside her, he reached for the bubbling pot he had left above the flames, raising the lid just a little to see how his tea was faring. It was almost done by the looks of it, and he let out a small hum in approval.
He was about to stir it once more when he halted, his gaze wandering to the bed behind Tilda, where his latest patient was still asleep. No tea of his could match the elvish healing arts; he had no doubts about it. But, he could help Kíli regain some of his strength. The lad would certainly need it, given what was coming for them.
"Will he be all right?" The lass's voice was quiet, almost too quiet, and he picked up his ear trumpet as she said: "Tauriel told me that his leg would never fully heal."
"Aye. His leg will pain him sometimes. But, he will live."
She merely nodded in return. On the other hand, her tense posture, as well as the way she clutched the fabric of her skirt, told him plenty of things. She reminded him of a few dwarrows he had tended to, of those who fought hard to conceal how fightened they were. Well, an approaching horde can do that to a person.
"Come, lassie", he told her, "Lend the old dwarf a hand." Although he did not need help, not truly, it would keep her mind off what was troubling her. "Can you pass me that bag over there, on the table?"
Pulled out of her reverie, the lass grabbed his apothecary bag and handed it to him. She said nothing, even while he rummaged through one of the bag's front pockets, but he did not push her. Instead, he gave her a reassuring smile and pulled out a bundle of various dried herbs.
"What's it like, being a healer?"
His head jerked up, the question taking him by surprise. "You're not planning to become one, are you?"
She was reluctant to answer. "I saw you trying to help Kili. Before Tauriel came."
"Then you know none of my remedies worked."
"But, they helped someone before." Tilda shifted in order to face him, with an odd determination in her gaze. "That is why I asked. I'd like to help, too."
"Listen, lass." Óin sighed, pondering on what to say next. "'Tis a gruelling task. A thankless one, as well. More often than not, your losses will outweight your gains, and it might break your heart." He paused as some of his memories were stirred up. "But, when you look back on what ended well... it could all be worth it."
"Is that so?", she asked in wonder.
"That is what I believe, at least." Returning to his herbs, Óin unfolded the material they were wrapped in. "Now, could you find me some clean cloth?"
Tilda was up in an instant, moving to the neighbouring room, and Óin could not help but notice how appeased she was by his answer. Well, as long as she found it helpful. Her father won't be too impressed, though. The dwarf graped a handful of herbs, angling them towards the fire for a better look. Yet, his chance to do it slipped away as a pat of footsteps stole his attention.
"You're fast. I can tell - Durin's blessed beard, laddie!"
Óin sprung up, shocked to find Kíli right in front of him. Not only was he upright, but he was also out of bed, on his unsteady feet in the middle of the kitchen. The healer rushed closer, just in case he needed to catch him.
"You're not supposed to be up", he said, "You've just rejoined the living. After a lot of effort, mind you."
Unfortunately, Thorin's nephew paid no heed to that, his eyes searching the room.
"Where's Fíli?", he uttered in the end.
Ah. Of course he'd ask that. "Your brother will be back shortly. He went to help the bargeman."
Kíli straightened a little. "He's out there, alone?"
"What? No!", Óin said, only to start fumbling with his words. Telling him at once that Fíli was accompanied by a necromancer might not be the brightest idea. "Well, laddie, you remember that lass you spoke of? The one your brother shared his cell with?"
"I know she's here, Óin", Kíli said, cutting off his attempt to prepare him for the news, "I saw what she did... or what I think she did." He trailed off while his brows knitted together. "Did she really cast magic?"
"One of the worst kinds, to boot." Óin crossed his arms over his chest. Kíli was leaning against a shelf, trying to do it discreetly - without much success. "If you won't lie down, will you sit? I don't think my back is up for lifting stubborn dwarrows when they fall."
He did not seem to have heard it.
"But, Fíli is alive because of her power", the lad continued, "It can't be that bad."
"Oh, it can. This not the first time I've seen necromancy at work."
The healer made a step towards a bench, which was the closest to the fire. Yet, Kíli did not move with him.
"You must be joking." This time, Kíli's voice was almost a whisper. "You saw someone like her before?"
"I was young then. Younger than you. But, I remember."
Kíli was nothing short than astonished, which made Óin push back a groan. Great. He knew that expression; and he knew that the young dwarrow would not let him get away without finishing the story. Perhaps it would be for the best if he told it all right there and then. After all, nobody was close enough to listen to them. And he would deal with the memories, and the nightmares, later.
"My father, mother and I were travelling with a caravan, somewhere west from here, when it was ambushed", he began, "I don't know where those men came from. But, they could not be killed. Arrows pierced them, swords slashed at them. They bled, yet they did not fall."
Growing uncomfortable under the lad's stare, he looked down at the ear trumpet in his hands.
"That was when they fought back. There... there was no mercy that day. The things they did..." His voice faltered, and he bowed his head for a moment, fending off the thoughts of it. "That is not something you forget. I can still see the necromancer who controlled them."
Kíli's eyes grew wider. "He was there?"
The healer nodded. "Later, I heard that he lost control of his power. That it consumed him. But, that does not make up for the fact that he tried to butcher us."
"What happened to him?"
"An axe. Belonging to a traveller from the caravan." Óin fiddled with the trumpet before he added: "He saved me, you know. He then fought his way to the necromancer, and he drove his blade through his heart. As soon as he died, it was over - without the magic to keep them alive, his followers dropped, one by one."
Looking up from his hands at last, the elderly dwarf found Kíli leaning closer, athough he kept holding on to the shelf for support. His once puzzled expression was now replaced with sadness.
"Does Gloin know about this?", he asked.
"Of course not. He was not born yet at the time."
"Mahal. You told no one."
"Talking won't change what happened, Kíli."
Having seen that his paient would remain standing, Óin sat down himself, bracing his hands against his knees.
He had believed he would never witness that kind of magic again. And now, more than a century and a half later, another necromancer was standing near the Long Lake. It was strange how some things tend to repeat in life - when they were needed the least.
"Olwen might differ from that necromancer", he said, "She might even have good intentions. But, one day, her power will get the better of her." He gave the lad a dark look. "I just hope that won't be on this night."
If Kíli had something on his mind, he left it unsaid, letting the crackling fire fill in the silence. But, then he blinked as something else occurred to him.
"The traveller who saved you", he started soon after, "Was he some hero?"
"To some, aye. To me, he was just my adad."
The lad's bewildered expression almost made Óin laugh. But, he did no such thing, since he was startled by a sudden gust of wind, strong enough to shove all the windows open. As he whirled towards one of them, a piece of linen flew past, blown away from wherever it was placed to dry. Before he could look closer, though, another gust followed, stronger than the last, and he gripped the window frame while he stuck his head out. Kíli joined him in seconds, nudging the healer a bit to lean through the window, as well.
"Óin. Look!" The lad pointed into the darkness, and Óin found the same thing he had. Along the canal that went in front of the house, two figures were running like mad, straight towards the front door; a dwarrow and a woman. They were halfway down the canal when the woman slowed down, glancing back at something while the dwarrow continued forward.
It was then that Óin saw it. A third figure, far too large for any bird, lunged from the night. Whilst it soared above Fíli and Olwen, it spread its wings wide against the moonlight - and the healer felt his knees knock together. That form could only belong to one creature.
"Uslukh."
.
.
Translation:
- adad - father
- uslukh - dragon
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