Chapter Text
Night was just beginning to fall over the Blue Mountains when I made my way down the long dirt track and into the Ruined Gorge. While this may seem like an adventurous start for my story, the Ruined Gorge was rather my local tavern, and not a place of monsters and orcs. It had been a miserable day, even by the west-laying region's usual standards: grey and drizzly throughout, and things were not much brighter underneath the earth.
By the time I made by appearance, the tavern had fallen into its usual, disreputable state. Old, rotten tables lay carelessly, overturned, across the ground - a fight had just been broken up. There was dirt everywhere, grime up the walls and long stamped into the flagstones; the kind of dirt you see gather under your nails over time. Unwashed dwarves sat about; fresh, smelly and dusty from a day in the mines, drinking deep into chipped tankards. None of them bothered to look up as I opened the door; the broken bell above my head moving without making a sound.
"Ale," I said to the tavern keep as I passed. No hellos. No how-dee-dos. This was not the kind of establishment where polite chit-chat was required. The tavern keep merely pushed the tankard towards me with only a cursory grunt of acknowledgement. As per my usual evening routine, I took the drink from him with barely a nod, and then brought it over to my little corner. The table here, while rickety, was still standing upright, and here at least I could find the bottom of my tankard easily and safely enough, what with the wall at my back and the door well in my line of vision.
It swung open several more times, the bell continuing to move uselessly and silently; the Ruined Gorge was a favourite among the kind of folk who preferred to do their business at night. One particular fellow caught my eye from where he sat but two tables from mine. Who could ignore the red, three-spiked bouffant of dear, old Nori? He may have been only a few yards away from me- not that he would have recognised me straight away as I had yet to pull back my hood - but his conversation was too low and too concealed by the general din of the room for me to catch it. His companion however was interesting to look at - better dressed than any other dwarf in this room, although sadly he was too smart to keep his affluence in an easy to grab pouch on his belt. A respectable fellow this one. The kind who had a profession and a decent name. A grey beard, braided into a case (silver, was it?) and a long moustache. A fine suit: a real dandy then. What would his sort have to do with a common thief like our Nori?
Whatever the two were talking about, it proved to be heated. The respectable fellow's full cheeks were a full ruddy red. He spat whatever else he had to say out, drew his coat closer to him and stormed back out of the door; his tankard just as frothy and full as when the tavern keep had given it to him.
Being a dwarf of some curiousity and having known Nori for far longer than either of us would have liked, I took the opportunity gladly to siddle over and make my presence known.
"Nithi?" he gasped- evidently my arrival had slipped past his guard. "Look, about the money. I'll get it to you by-"
"It's not about the money," I said, although it was. I was just saving that particular topic for a better time, but this was just too good a moment to miss. I pulled back my hood, shook my light braids out, brushed my beard down with my hand. "Who was that?" I added, with a rare enough smile, all friendly like.
"No one," Nori grunted in reply, knocking back his drink hastily. Something about seeing me smile so had really unsettled him and he looked ready to make a quick escape. So I called over to the tavern keep and soon we had freshly refilled tankards.
"My brother," he admitted, finally, after his third drink. "Dori."
"Dori?" I had never, in all the years I had known Nori, heard him mention having a brother, let alone telling me his name.
"So what does your... brother want?"
"Nothing." Once again, Nori was clamming up, dropping his gaze. More drink was needed. I waved the tavern keep over yet again.
"Fine," he said, wobbling somewhat in his chair, five drinks later. Stumbling slightly on his words, he continued: "I signed up for this thing. This quest thing, y'know, and now our little - hic - our little brother, Ori's, signed up too and - hic - Dori's worried. He's passing kittens - hic - because he's scared that Ori's gonna get himself killed, trying to please me and - hic - now he's signed up as well-"
"Signed up for what?" I said, impatiently interrupting what had to be the longest sentence to ever pass Nori's lips.
"Erebor," the dwarf said, visibly drooping over his empty tankard. "The Lonely - hic - Mountain. Thorin Oakenshield's putting together a company to - hic - take back the mountain and what-not from the dragon."
"Erebor?" The Lonely Mountain? I lowered my voice to a whisper, yet this news was big. The kind of news that should have been on everyone's lips in a community as small as the one made up of the old refugees of Erebor and their kin. "But when are they heading off?"
"Soon. Before next new moon -"
"And it's... the Thorin Oakenshield -" What young dwarf had not heard of Thorin Oakenshield, heir of Durin, victor of Azanulbizar? "-who's leading it?"
"S'right. But he's gone ahead for now. S'Balin's the one - hic - calling people together."
"So when were you going to tell us all you were leaving on your travels, Nori?" I said, sweetly. "Was it going to be before or after you paid me?"
The inebriated dwarf only stared at me through bleary eyes. "What?"
"My share," I leaned forward, any sweetness in my voice evaporating as it lowered to a hiss. "My share of the heist. I worked three months with you and Greger on it: planning, sourcing what we needed. I all but staked out the big guy's house for three weeks. Three weeks! You're the one who took the jewels. You're the one who promised to sell them on and split the money three ways. It's been a week now. Over a week! Where is my share?"
"S'coming, Nee," he sighed. "I just need to shake off some tail first, y'know. Authorities - hic - are on the look out for jewels suddenly on the market and all. Can't have them tracing it back to us."
"If I've find out you've squandered it, you elf-faced bastard, I'll chase you east myself. You won't only have dragons to worry about." And with that, I stood up, drained the remaining ale from my tankard, and turned back to the tavern keep.
"Put it all on Nori's tab," I said, as my unwilling benefactor slumped forward. "Be sure to remind him to speak to me when he wakes up." I added, drawing my hood back over my head and exiting the establishment before the keep could even bother to reply.
Outside, a light drizzle was falling over the few outward structures on the mountainside. At such a late time, most of the population were already deep underground, but the few remaining pedestrians all walked past with their hoods up. A pair of guards from the Night Watch stood not far from the tavern entrance, talking quietly among themselves. I passed the two dwarves easily, my head low. While I always prided myself in acting cautiously - keeping my nose clean and all that - my most recent heist with Nori had left me unnerved, especially around the local police force, and not just because of the late repayment.
It had been an unusually daring one for me: one that ended with me clambering out of a high-up (and very wealthy) dwarf's hall, laden with jewels and coin. Burglary was a risky move away from simple pickpocketing and I had yet to be sure that we had really managed to get away with it.
Nori's mention of the quest had also unsettled me, but for different reasons. I had never seen the Lonely Mountain myself, nor had many of the younger dwarves I associated with. Yet this community, residing within the ruins of Belegost, had originally been of Erebor. Some figures, like that of the famous Oakenshield, had lived in that kingdom, beneath that mountain; Mahal's breath, Oakenshield had a right to rule the bloody thing! My own parents had been of Erebor, but they had died before they could tell me anything memorable about the place.
There was not a dwarf though within the Blue Mountains who had not heard of Erebor, be it from their parents' knees or from drunken talk. Heard the older dwarves speak of its fine halls, the mines beneath it and the treasure it unearthed.
While I have resolved in time that my reasons were nobler, my initial interest that night was not of reclaiming my people's ancient homestead, but instead resided rather for the vast quantities of gold beneath it. The forges and mines of the Lonely Mountain, if the words of the older dwarves could be believed, were far wealthier than what remained in the Blue Mountains. Whatever wealth resided there was limited only to a very few, leaving the remaining majority of the refugees and their children with just enough to make ends meet.
Yet to reside once more in Erebor . To live as wealthy as the last Durin king and his people. It was this thought that warmed me as I climbed back down under the earth and back to the crumbling hole I called home. At the end of the familiar tunnel, I pulled back the tattered drapes and peered into the low room, packed as it was with old pieces of furniture, and called out to the shack's other residents.
For a moment, my arrival was met with a deadly silence. Holding my breath, I drew a dagger from my belt, careful to conceal the blade beneath the fabric of my cloak, as I called out once more.
For a long moment, there was nothing and then a rustle from the far corner announced the presence of another dwarf. Coughing, spluttering and clutching her chest, a lone Tig rolled out from under the remains of a cabinet set.
"Nee?" she gasped, between splutters.
"Only me, Tiggy," I said, strolling across the room's only clear bit of floor, depositing a small leather pouch of coins on the ground beside my choking landlady. "Today's pickings." I hopped over her and cleared my way over to the corner where I kept my things. "Where is everyone?" It was rare for it to be just me and Tig in the room. Normally there would be another ten dwarves loitering about, either sleeping or eating.
"Scarpered-" Tig gasped. "Gone-"
I unfolded my bedroll, before squinting across the dim room at my landlady. "Gone where?"
"No idea." Tig drew herself up, rubbed at her sore knees. "Night Watch folk - here not an hour before you- asking questions and the like."
That wasn't good. Nor was the look I caught on the roomowner's face as she straightened up, caught her breath and turned to face me. Nothing normally bothered Tig; you could probably admit to setting half of her cavern alight and her response would be to point you to the communal water bucket. It was this carefree attitude that made her a blessing as a landlady, especially when you were short on rent as I regularly seemed to be. The downsides of this however was that when Tiggy looked concerned, you knew that a real cartload of trouble was coming.
"What were they asking about?"
"You of course! Where you were? Who you've been hanging around with lately?" Tig frowned. "They mentioned something about missing jewels. A burglary."
So we had done it. My fears were true after all. We had over-stepped ourselves big time. And now the authorities were on my back. They knew where I lived and if they knew where I lived...
Spinning hastily around, I lunged at Tig and all but grabbed the older dwarf.
"Did they say my name? Did they know it?"
"Aye. They have that Greger fellow and he told them all everything. And one of the other dwarves here told him you were bound to be at the Gorge-" Of course, I must have passed the pair only moments after leaving the tavern. "But they didn't root through your things. I made sure of that."
A small victory at least, but it was not as if the jewels were buried in my bedroll. There was however an inebriated, loose-tongued Nori at the Gorge and at least a dozen eyewitnesses to attest to my arrival. Yes, sir. No, sir. Here all evening, sir, just left. Headed down one of the western tunnels, sirs, back again to old Widow Tiggy's. She'll be there still, I'm sure of it.
"They'll be back," I said aloud, mostly to myself, running back over to my corner and snatching up my bedroll from where it lay. My worldly possessions at the time were few and meagre, but I still had a good bit of coin tucked away in the seam of my bedroll.
"Where will you go?" Tig asked nervously after me.
"North, I suppose." Not that I had any real idea where I was going. Or what I was going to do when I got there. But Tig would need something to give to the Night Watchmen when they were bound to return.
"Be quick about it then," she replied, solemnly patting me on the shoulder as I passed. "Wait..." she cried out. "Before you go." She hobbled nimbly across the room to where a rounded object leant against the wall, sealing up some crack or whatever. "Your father's old shield," she said, passing the faded, old piece of wood. "You can't leave without it."
I took it without thanks, threw it with the bedroll over my shoulder, and without a backwards glance, carried on down the tunnel, being sure to take the narrow, quiet routes through the earth.
Through the twisty tunnels I ran, hood up and head down, all my way across the underground town until the tunnels became more even and the walls of them far more decorated. This was the decent end of the mountain settlement: the halls here were on a much larger and grander scale and the folk around here of a better sort. If I carried on through a few more tunnels, I would be at the crime scene itself. On this side, there were shops here too, carved into the stone, rather than just the odd trader: bakeries and butchers, furniture carvers and toy makers. It was not an end that I was well acquainted with, but I did not mean to stay long.
You see, on the run from Tiggy's, an idea had emerged in my head. I had to leave, that was non-negotiable. Sooner or later, I was bound to be caught out and locked up. I could either make a break for it now or spend the next fifty years in an isolated cell deep within the mountain. Yet I had known no other place beyond this settlement and the prospect of fleeing from it filled me with dread.
I could have headed north as I told Tiggy; move further into the mountains and into the forest beyond them. But I was a thief, not a hunter. I needed dwarves, the odd man, and their purses to survive. In the wild, alone, I would surely starve.
I could have headed east and travelled among Men in their lands, but I was not overly keen on their sort from the few previous encounters I had had with them. They were often clumsy around those smaller than them and particularly rude in their curiosity of dwarven women. It had something to do with their own women not being able to grow beards, and I could not face the thought of being a lone oddity amongst them.
Yet there were dwarves however planning to head east, that was if I could trust Nori's information to be correct. And if Thorin Oakenshield was leading it, then chances were that people of this end of tohe mountain would know a great deal more about it than the rest of us would.
And with just a few questions to the right people, I was pushing open the door of yet another tavern (a much finer establishment than my usual and one that was actually underground) and finding myself again in the presence of a well-dressed dwarf.
"Balin?" I said, to the grey-bearded pair of dwarves the barman had pointed out for me.
The dwarf on the left turned away from his companion at the sound of his name.
"Aye?" he said, in a friendly, soft tone. "That'll be me."
Swinging my father's old shield down from my shoulder, I slammed it down before him on the table.
"And this is...?"
"My shield, at your service," I said, drawing back my hood,
"My dear..." He began, looking uneasily from my shield, back to me and then again to the shield.
"I hear Thorin Oakenshield's looking for dwarves for a quest. Well, here's my offer. I'd like to be a member of his company." I took the stool across from him and patted fondly at the shield's peeling paintwork.
"Can you wield this?"
"Yes, I can," I lied easily. Aye, I could hold the damn thing, but I never had practiced much at using it for combat. At Tig's, it had spent the last thirty years gathering dust as a table leg.
"I'm sure you can, but we can't really accept young dwarf maidens on such a quest. There are too many risks-"
"Yes, I know," I said, bristling at his use of the word 'maiden'. "Dragons and all of that. But I can fight." Perhaps not with a sword, but I could be nifty with my fists when I had to be.
"How old are you?"
"A hundred." Although truthfully I was still a few years shy of ninety. They didn't however need to know that.
"There's not only that," his companion cried, finally catching the gist of the conversation through his giant earhorn. "There's bound to be orc packs and thieves and other nasty things on the road."
"Oin speaks true, lass," Balin added, not unkindly. "Go back to your home and to your family. I'm sure they'll be worried about you if you go off east."
"I'm sure they would," I said, "if they weren't dead." The two older dwarves bristled now at that, exchanging each other awkward glances. I took advantage of this to signal over to the barman for a cup of ale for myself. The beverage here was less watered down than that at the Gorge's but I managed to quaff it back all the same, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand nonchantly when I was finished. Dwarf maiden? Let them eat their words when I could prove myself as capable as any dwarf male.
"You needn't worry," I said, as the silence drew on. "It wasn't me who took them. A plague did it, seventy years back. But my Da was at Azanulbizar. Runin, son of Rar."
"Aye, I remember him," Balin said, quietly. "And I suppose his daughter wishes to follow in his footsteps?"
"Aye, I do." Not that I had any firm memory of the dwarf, but it made a better reason for joining the quest than fleeing the authorities. "So when can I start?"
"I still don't know if-"
So it would have to be Plan B. Fishing through my pockets, I drew out a bag of coins and dropped it on the table.
"A fee for taking me on. I can supply some more later on the journey if need be. I assume gold's in short supply at this point in the process."
Both dwarves stared at the bag in surprise. After a long moment, Balin spoke out first.
"Where did you-"
"It doesn't matter," I said quickly, sliding the bag towards them. "What matters is that this isn't just a whimsical idea. I've thought this through long and hard and it's about time I saw some more of the world. Y'know, follow in my Da's footsteps and all. There isn't really much for me here anymore anyway, not with my family gone and all that." Not much other than a lengthy prison sentence.
Balin sighed, and then fumbled in his pockets for a scrap of parchment which he then sought to unfold, whilst Oin and I pushed the remaining cups of ale and the shield aside. The finished piece almost covered the entire table. My brow furrowed as I stared down at the unfamiliar script, only really making out one word in twenty.
"Just standard policy really," Balin seemed to note my difficulty. "What to do in the event of injury and so forth..."
"Yes, yes," I said, impatiently, taking his quill and scribbling my usual cross for a signature at the bottom of the piece, beneath a line of other signatures. "So when can I start?"
"We'll be meeting in Hobbiton on the day after the next full moon..." Balin paused. "You do know where Hobbiton is?"
I nodded, although my knowledge of the world east of the Lune was flimsy at best. I'd be sure to find out where Hobbiton was soon enough.
"Our... friend, I suppose, will be setting a marker for where we plan to meet. I guess we'll see you then, ...?" He squinted down at my signature.
"Nithi."
"Nithi then. Well, good doing business with you, lassie. We'll see you then, unless you'd like us to arrange someone to show you the way..."
"That won't be necessary." I stood up and shook both of the dwarves' hands. Oin merely continued to fiddle with his hearing aid as he had done throughout the conversation, but Balin seemed kindly enough. He did pocket the gold after all, but reluctantly and only, i noted, after I had gathered my things together.
"See you then," he said. "Have a safe journey then now, lassie, and we'll see you in Hobbiton."
The tavern was full enough to conceal my exit. Walking closely to a leaving party of dwarves, I was able to slip out into a side tunnel just as a pair of Night Watch guards arrived through the main entrance. I did not see if they were the same pair as before- I had my head down low and my hood up at this point- but they did not call out after me.
Down the side tunnels, the party went. Most of their members were too tipsy on the house's beverage to acknowledge my presence, but, just as they turned west for the main tunnel, I turned east and slipped through another side tunnel. Whilst I was unfamiliar with the main residential area, I was familiar enough with these tunnels; the ones that led to the mountainside and the eastern road.
A guard stood as usual at the exit, but the dwarf was already half-asleep, and only nodded me past without a word. He didn't seem to notice my heaped bedroll or the shield on my back. He merely closed his eyes and rested back against the post.
And as easy as that, I escaped justice and left my old home without even a final glance over my shoulder. The east road was nothing more than a rocky trail down the mountain, treacherous in the moonlight, but I was keen to make as much distance between me and the Blue Mountains before any alarms were raised. I could only hope that old Balin did not stay around long enough to link his latest recruit with the identity of a missing felon.