Chapter Text
Not far from Ered Luin, the orcs set up camp. Azog relayed quiet orders and helped carry the injured and exhausted into the caves where the wargs were already warming up those who had nearly frozen. The few young ones who had wanted to play in the snow, and under the watchful eye of Lily, Bolg’s warg, they were allowed to.
It was getting darker and the snow was falling faster. Azog heard a howl from outside and bolted out. He was met by Lily, with her purple-speckled fur, with two little orclings. Bolg was nowhere to be found.
Within moments he was on Daisy, tracking his son. They were too close to so many enemies. They had hoped the forces of Mordor wouldn’t come so close to the Dwarves and Men, but it wasn’t a safe place for them.
Lily trailed behind Daisy, tail between her legs.
***
Thorin tramped through the snow, head down, beard fluffed around his face for warmth. He could trudge for hours like this, though it wasn’t especially pleasant, and already the snow was almost up to his knees. He grumbled softly under his breath, but his people could use the deer he dragged behind him. He paused, just for a moment, after he stumbled over something hidden in the snow. Over his heavy, panting breaths, he thought he heard…something. It almost sounded like a child, crying for help. He piled branches over the deer, leaving a small knot for protection from predators on its forehead. He was torn. If there was a child out in this storm, it was his responsibility to help. However…he’d heard rumors of foul creatures skulking in these parts, and he knew some of them wouldn’t be above playing such a cruel trick on an unwary traveler.
He took a deep breath, watching the steam curl away from his face, and took stock of himself. He was weary from his long walk, and the cold had made him stiff and slow. He was alone, and in no condition to face more than a handful of enemies, especially if they weren’t simply bandits—Men. He closed his eyes and listened, trying to hear over the sound of the storm and his own heartbeat.
With a muttered curse, he turned away from the deer and into the wind, where the sound seemed to be coming from. Ambush or not, it was his duty to investigate.
***
Bolg cried out again. He hadn’t thought he’d strayed very far from the others but then suddenly his footsteps disappeared behind him and he couldn’t figure out which way he’d come from. He could feel the cold taking his energy, deadening his fingers and face. At first he’d been afraid to call out in case someone heard him, but now he knew he needed to take the chance or no one would find him.
“Paraaaun!” he howled. Lily would find him soon. Or maybe Daisy and Azog. He was going to be in so much trouble, but it’d be worth it to hold warm warg fur and feel his fingers again. Bolg wrapped his arms around himself under his blue-tinged white fur and shivered. “Paraaauuuuunn!”
As he got closer, Thorin could no longer be sure if it sounded more like a child or an animal crying out. If it was an animal, wounded or trapped, he could end its suffering and bring more meat home for his people. They were starting to get snappish at living on dry meat and other winter-rations. “Hello!” he called, as he approached where he thought the sound was coming from—though it was damnably hard to tell, with the wind howling and shifting direction. “Is someone out there? Do you need help?”
Bolg froze when he heard common tongue. He’d learned it easily enough from the men who deigned to trade with orcs, but it meant that whoever was calling for him was not an orc.
After swallowing back a bit of fear, Bolg cried out again, in common tongue. “Help!” he waded through the chest high snow as best he could, heading towards the voice. “I’m here!”
It was definitely a voice! It sounded strange—rough and hoarse, but the speaker could have an accent, or it could simply be the cold. Who knew how long they’d been out here. “I’m coming! Stay where you are!” Thorin doggedly pushed his way through the snow, stumbling and cursing over things he couldn’t see. It would be dark soon, and he didn’t want to spend the night outside. He saw a small figure coming toward him. He recoiled, every hair on his body standing on end. He had the sudden, unmistakable feeling of wrongness coming from the person approaching him. He shook his head to clear it; it was just the cold getting to him, that was all. “I’m here. Get on my back, I’ll get you somewhere safe.” He sighed; at this point, he didn’t think he could get himself, the stranger and the deer back to the mountain before dark. He’d have to give it up for now, and hope he could get to it before predators did. He didn’t hold much store in the knots.
It was a dwarf. Bolg shrunk back, expecting to be attacked, but it offered to carry him. There was no choice. He climbed up the dwarf’s back and held onto the hood of his cloak. Warmth radiated out from the dwarf’s cloak like a fireplace and he nestled into it thankfully. “Thank you,” he said, loudly to be heard over the wind. What was the dwarf thinking? He clearly wasn’t a man or a dwarf. He was as pale as his father, but his hair was coloured pink from leaves and flowers he’d collected and even at his age he had decorative scars. He was wearing only his colourful fur, a soft pair of boots and a loincloth.
Hunching against the wind and the extra weight, Thorin turned and headed for home. Luckily, he could see the mountain from here, so not even he could get lost.
***
Daisy stopped and sniffed at the nearby trees. They’d found a deer carcass, with a dwarvish knot on top. She whined, low in her throat, hungry but not told she could eat. It could be a trap, and even if their bellies were empty, poison was worse than hunger.
Azog worked his fist into her ruff to warm his one remaining hand. His metal arm was frost-covered and starting to ache where it went through his flesh. The pale orc urged his warg on, calling to Lily to follow them.
***
Thorin hadn’t felt the stranger move for some time, and he feared the worst as he entered the mountain. “Oin! I need you, now!” He stamped the worst of the snow off his boots, trying to get some feeling back in his toes. He hoped he’d be bringing good news for some parents tonight. He could smell stew—plain, and made of preserved meat, but at the moment it was the best thing he’d ever smelled. His mouth watered as he stripped off his gloves, clapping them together to get rid of the ice and snow built up on them.
Oin came out of the large tent where some of the weaker or injured dwarves spent most of their time. He frowned, looking Thorin over. “Are ye hurt, lad?”
“I’m fine, but I found…someone. In the snow.” He turned around, offering Oin his passenger.
The healer hummed, taking the small bundle off of Thorin. “You… rescued him, did you?” He carried the child into his tent and laid it down on a spare cot. “I don’t think there’s much I can do,” he told Thorin as his King followed him in.
“Of course I did! Why do you say it like that?” Thorin followed, frowning. The ice on his beard didn’t make him look any less fierce. “You have to! I didn’t carry him all this way for him to…save him! Do your job.”
“I don’t mean that, I think he’ll live, but-” Oin looked down at the little shivering form. “He’s an orc. I have no experience healing orcs.”
Thorin’s eyes went wide, and the room seemed to spin. “I…he…what?!”
“I’m not surprised you didn’t notice, most orcs are more disfigured, and I’ve never seen one so young before,” the healer lowered his voice. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m going to…sit down.” Thorin sank onto a chair, and the world went black.
***
When Thorin awoke, Dis, Dwalin and Oin were sitting at a small table they’d set up near him and they were speaking quietly together.
Dis turned to look at him when he sat up. “He’s come around.”
Oin leaned over him and thumbed open one of his eyes and looked at it carefully. “Aye, he’s in alright shape. Just had a bit of a shock is all.”
“Ow. Hey, stoppit.” Thorin smacked at Oin’s hand. “Had the strangest dream…”
Dis snorted. “Oh, I doubt that. And you promised to bring home meat, which you didn’t…unless your tastes have changed. In which case, it’s all yours.”
“Did you catch something? Your hunting knife needed cleaning,” Dwalin had Thorin’s knife in his hands and was currently cleaning and oiling it.
“I…there was a deer.” Thorin frowned at his sister. “Where is it?”
“You didn’t bring home a deer,” Dwalin grimaced, “you brought home an orc.”
Oin pressed a cup into Thorin’s hands. “Drink it all.”
“I…what? Dwalin!” Thorin almost dropped the cup, trying to stand on badly trembling legs. “No! No, I…that was just a dream. There was a boy. I rescued a boy…”
“‘fraid not, brother dear.” Dis gave Dwalin a flat look. “Though we had planned on telling you a bit more…delicately. Just an orc. A very small one, to be sure, but an orc.”
Dwalin shrugged his big shoulders. “He needed to hear it, didn’t he.”
The grey-haired dwarf groaned, putting the cup to Thorin’s lips and tilting it back a bit so he got a mouthful. The strong, warm drink was bitter and cleared Thorin’s head a bit.
“There, feel better lad?” Oin patted Thorin’s shoulder. He’d taken off the young King’s snowy cloak and furs, as well as his boots and all his weapons. “Don’t worry, the orcling still hasn’t woken.”
“What…what should we do?” Thorin pulled a face at the foul-tasting drink, frowning at his companions. He knew what he should do, what he should have done the second he saw the foul creature, but…seeing the tiny orc lying there, so still and helpless…
“Well, I say we—” Dis began.
“Uncle Thorin! You’re home!” Thorin was tackled by a small dwarf with dark hair and braids flying everywhere. “We were all getting worried about you!” Kili climbed his uncle so he could see the still form lying on Oin’s table. “Is that an orc? Is he dead?!” He hopped down and approached the table, finger cautiously extended for a poke.
“Kee…” Fili followed his brother, not sure what to do. The adults all looked very serious, and uncle Thorin was very pale, with dark circles under his eyes.
Dis gave them a warning look. “Boys, not now. This isn’t the time to play. Go to Gloin’s place and stay there.”
Dwalin stood, “I’ll take them. Do you remember where you left the deer? It’s freezing out, the meat should still be fine if we get to it before anything else does.”
“But I wanna meet the orc! Lookit, he’s so small. Can we keep him?” Kili’s finger had almost touched the orc’s arm when it groaned and stirred. Kili shrieked and leapt back into his brother’s arms, almost sending them both sprawling.
“I think so.” Thorin described where he’d left the deer, ignoring his nephews and the orc for the time being; he had no idea what to do about either situation. “Thank you.” He managed a weak smile for Dwalin. Something occurred to him. “Oin. You could…well, I’m sure you have…you could finish him off in his sleep. Quietly. Yes?”
Dwalin grabbed both of the lads around their waists and hoisted them up to his shoulders, carrying them to Gloin’s place.
Oin frowned, looking at the little monster on his table. “Aye, but,” he sat on the edge of Thorin’s bed, “I’m not sure I want to.”
“Nooooooo uncle Dwaliiiiiiiiiiin!!!” Kili kicked and thrashed, but Dwalin might as well have been stone for all the good it did. They heard his voice trailing off as he was carried off.
Fili sat quietly on his shoulder, wondering what on earth was going on.
Thorin rubbed his temples. “Why?” he asked, softly, uncertainly.
“It’s clearly a child,” Oin said fiercely. “No matter who its kin, it’s still just a child. Murdering a child is exactly what I’d expect of an orc… or a monster.”
Thoroughly chastised, Thorin bowed his head. “I…agree.”
Dis shrugged. “So, we wait for the storm to end and put it back outside, hope its family’s nearby. Give it some food and supplies.”
Oin nodded. “Best we can do. We can’t possibly keep it here, but sending it out in the snow would be a death sentence.” He clapped Thorin on the shoulder, gave him another cup of strong tea, and went to check on the little orc.
Bolg stirred when Oin put a finger to his pulsepoint. His large blue eyes opened and it seemed to take him a moment to take everything in. He swallowed hard, shrinking away from the dwarves.
Thorin shivered and felt his gorge rise. Something about the orc was so horribly familiar…and yet, the thought of what he’d almost done repulsed him.
“Well, I’m going to make sure my boys aren’t destroying anything…or that Gloin hasn’t killed them.” Dis eyed the orc warily as she left.
“Shouldn’t we…tie it up or something?” Thorin thought he might be sick. He’d carried that…that thing on his back.
Oin shrugged. “We won’t hurt ye, little one,” he assured the orc, not sure if it would even understand him.
“But you’re dwarves,” Bolg squeaked, grabbing at his brightly coloured fur. Everything about him was colourful, now that Thorin looked. His scars had colour under them, his skin had paint decorating it, his fur and loincloth and boots were all spattered with paints and dyes and there were bright feathers sewn into them.
“You’re…you’re just a child. Aren’t you?” Any doubt Thorin had had—orcs came in many different sizes, after all, and some were nearly as small as goblins—had vanished when the orc spoke. And it looked so…absurd, covered in bright paints and splashes of colour. So harmless. He shook himself. That was dangerous thinking. They may have decided not to kill the orc, but that didn’t change what he knew about orcs.
Bolg nodded. “I’m four,” he whispered.
Oin shook his head. “What were you doing out in the snow, alone? Are there other orcs out there?”
The little orc clammed up and shook his head. He wouldn’t give anyone away. The dwarves might not hurt him but they’d definitely hurt grown up orcs.
Oin sighed, giving him a piece of licorice root. “Here, chew on this til we can get you something to eat.” Hopefully little orcs liked licorice like little dwarves did.
Bolg sniffed it, gave it a lick and made a face. He gnawed a tiny corner of it carefully, his teeth sharp.
Thorin couldn’t help but smile, watching the orc eat the candy. It had made the exact face Kili had when he’d eaten it for the first time. Of course, he’d been older. Four was so young; no dwarf would ever leave a child that young alone. Maybe this orc had been abandoned for its strange ways. His chest felt tight and hollow. “I have to go. Can’t be messing about all day with…this. Take care of it.”
His older cousin patted his arm, grabbing Thorin’s boots for him and making sure he was dressed before he left.
The orc waved at him as he left, then called after him. “Thank you!”
Thorin growled and left.
***
Of course, the deer wasn’t at all where Thorin’d said it’d be, but Dwalin’d been expecting that. Even so, he’d been about to give it up for lost and trudge home when he spied a freshly broken branch, then a few more. They led him to a heaped pile of branches. Shoving them aside, Dwalin found a deer carcass with a knot still in place. It didn’t look to have been touched by any predators, and Dwalin smiled to himself. This meat would be a welcome change in the mountain. Eschewing the sticks Thorin’d been using to drag the beast, Dwalin slung it over his shoulders, tying the legs back up to themselves so they wouldn’t drag on the ground. It didn’t matter if they got a little broken in the process.
He heard a howl from a distance. Daisy had perked up at the sound of branches moving and the smell of the deer as it was moved. She turned them around, leading them back to the deer.
Dwalin growled a curse, hurling the deer to the ground and unsheathing his axes. Apparently this deer’s spirit was putting up a fight.
Daisy skidded to a halt in front of the dwarf, snarling, hackled raised. Azog snapped at her in black speech and she took a few steps backwards. The orc’s heart fell. If there were dwarves wandering around out here, and Bolg had been found by them.
Dwalin snarled back at the warg, looking up—and up—at its rider. He stumbled at the sight, his eyes going wide. “No…it’s not possible. You’re dead.”
Azog slid off Daisy, patting her side, letting her know it was alright. Lily crawled in on her belly, unsure of her place between Daisy’s rage and Azog’s calm.
“I am looking for a young orc.” he said, as plainly as he could, hand and metal limb extended in a gesture of peace.
Dwalin froze for a moment. All he could do was stand there and blink. “We…have it. It’s safe.”
“Bring me to him.” Azog’s deep voice sounded sure and calm but his insides felt like ice. His son was being held captive by dwarves.
“I don’t take orders from orcs,” Dwalin growled, “but I want it off my hands, and I’m not a child-killer.”
Daisy couldn’t help but growl back at the dwarf, but Azog held out a hand and she stilled. “I will follow you to him.” This was definitely one of the dwarves that had fought outside of Moria. He recognized him, and had seen his injuries then. But there was hope for Bolg yet. Azog mounted Daisy and waited for the stranger to start walking.
The back of Dwalin’s neck prickled. He was reluctant to take orcs closer to the mountain, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that dwarves lived there. He held Grasper so he could watch the orcs in its reflective surface, and trudged through the snow ahead of them. Just for an instant, he wished he were seated on top of a warm warg, instead of fighting his way through knee-high snow.
The dwarf clearly wasn’t going to try and carry his deer home with orcs to guard against. Azog leaned off the side of his warg and grabbed it, hauling it over Daisy’s back.
After ten minutes of watching the dwarf trudge through the snow, Azog was getting impatient. He whistled for Lily and she came to him. He gave her a command and she took a place in front of Dwalin, pushing through the snow and leaving him a fine wide path.
Dwalin shook his head. If anyone had asked him how he’d thought tonight would go…this wouldn’t have been it. Not even in his top thousand guesses. He mumbled a ‘thank you’ to the beast, hearing his mother’s voice in his head. His walk was certainly easier. When they approached the mountain, Dwalin turned and addressed the orcs. “Wait here. I’m not letting you inside, and even if I did, you wouldn’t get very far. I’ll get your young one for you.”
Azog nodded and to Dwalin’s surprise, bowed his head and thanked him.
Dwalin grunted in response, not sheathing his axes until he was well inside the mountain. He hurried to Oin, not sure what to expect. Despite himself, he hoped the little orc hadn’t been killed. If only because he was in no mood to fight in the snow. No other reason.
Oin was feeding the little orc, who was watching everything with wide eyes and hungrily devouring the thin stew Oin had given him. The healer looked up when Dwalin came in and frowned. “Anything wrong?”
“I found the deer, but I couldn’t bring it home. Want to guess why?”
“It got eaten by something?” Oin hazarded.
“…no. Much, much worse. But also better? We can get rid of that,” he inclined his head at the little orc.
Bolg hunched his shoulders in, not sure what was meant by ‘get rid of’.
Oin raised an eyebrow. “More orcs?”
“Aye. More orcs.”
“Is he big and white with a metal arm?” Bolg interrupted, climbing down from the table.
“Aye, he is. You know him?” The sheer impossibility of what he’d seen stiffened every muscle on Dwalin’s body, but there could be no mistaking the orc he’d seen—Azog.
“He’s my parent.” the little orc responded.
“…of course he is. C’mon then, let’s get you back to him. And out of our beards.” Dwalin held out a hand for the tiny orc, the way he would for a dwarfling, then quickly withdrew it.
Bolg followed Dwalin out, bowing quickly to Oin before he left.
***
Thorin had retired to his room and tried to read and take his mind off of…whatever had happened…by reading, but he hadn’t been able to focus. Setting the book down, he’d begun to pace, and his boots had led him to the mountain’s entrance in hopes of meeting Dwalin when he returned. He found a commotion and pushed his way through, trying to learn what was happening.
One of the city guards was trying to keep everyone away, but a crowd had formed and some dwarves were trying to look outside. “King Thorin!” the guard sounded relieved, and afraid. “There’s an orc outside. I didn’t know what else to do!”
“Close the gate! Secure all entrances!” Even as he shouted orders, Thorin climbed a nearby flight of stairs that led to a fortified arrow slit. Gazing down on the small gathering of orcs and wargs below, he had a flashback to Azanulbizar so vivid he felt as though he’d been kicked in the chest, and he nearly fell. Azog. For just an instant, he’d thought he’d seen…but no. That was impossible. He’d killed…
Dwalin pushed through to the gate with a tiny orc in tow. “Thorin!” he called when he saw his cousin. “It’s alright.”
“Dwalin!” Thorin half-ran, half-fell down the stairs into Dwalin’s arms. “Please, I can’t…I don’t understand…” He was shaking violently, uncontrollably, so distraught that he hadn’t even noticed the orc at Dwalin’s side.
“It’s alright,” Dwalin told him, wrapping his arms around his shield brother. “He’s real. He’s here, but he just wants his son back.” Dwalin pressed his forehead to Thorin’s, trying to calm him down.
Bolg squirmed at Dwalin’s side. He was so close to being back with his father, what if they changed their minds? “Paraun!” he called through the gate.
“Bolg!” there was a bellow from the other side.
“No. No no no no no…” Thorin pressed his forehead to Dwalin’s. He would’ve fallen if his cousin hadn’t been holding him up. “Make him go away. Please, Dwalin, make him go away…” He wasn’t sure if that was possible, if Azog hadn’t somehow crept out of his mind and could never been gotten rid of again.
“I’ll take care of it. Stay inside.” Dwalin sat Thorin down on the stairs and went to open the gate, Bolg following him impatiently.
Thorin drew his knees up to his chest, curling himself into the smallest possible ball. He stared after Dwalin’s retreating back, wanting nothing more than to call him back, to be in his arms again. He knew, with dread certainty, that he would lose Dwalin now, and that he was powerless to stop whatever was coming. He would have to sit here and watch, just as he had before. He wanted to leap up and fight beside Dwalin, to take a stand against Azog even if it was hopeless, they were outnumbered, but his muscles wouldn’t move. He could only sit there and shake and watch as Dwalin spoke to the orc who had haunted more of Thorin’s life than he dared admit even to himself.
“This is yours?” Dwalin stepped aside, revealing the tiny orc. “Or is there another running around?”
Azog knelt, holding out his arms. “Bolg!”
Bolg threw himself at Azog, leaping into his arms and bursting into tears. The tall orc stood to look at Dwalin, Bolg cradled to his chest with his good arm. “Thank you.”
Dwalin nodded, once, solemnly. “Go,” he said, gruffly but not unkindly, the gate already half-shut. He needed to return to his king. He didn’t want to think about what wounds had been reopened. He could hear the small orc happily chattering to his father.
“Wait!” Azog called. He put Bolg down and pulled the deer down from Daisy. “This is yours.” He tossed it to Dwalin’s feet, not wanting to get too close to the dwarf with the axes. Azog mounted Daisy and waited until Bolg was on Lily before turning to get back to their people.
“Thank you…” Dwalin said, softly, dragging the deer inside and barring the gate. He allowed himself a moment to lean against it, his head spinning, before climbing the stairs to where he’d left Thorin.
“Is he gone? I wanted to say goodbye!” Kili ran full-tilt into the entrance, narrowly dodging several other dwarves who were still wondering if they needed to arm themselves for war.
“He’s gone. Run along, Kili, it’s late out.” Dwalin sighed, sitting next to Thorin, who had buried his face in his arms. He wrapped an arm around his King. “They’re gone.”
“I missed him? I miss everything good!”
“Kee! Leave uncle Thorin and Dwalin be. Can’t you see they’re upset?” Fili ran to his brother, bodily grabbing him and pulling him away.
Kili sighed, but allowed himself to be dragged.
“No, they’re not. They’re never gone.”
The crowd dispersed, leaving Dwalin and their king alone.
“Maybe not,” Dwalin murmured, pressing their heads together again. “But no one got hurt. They didn’t threaten us. This time was different, and we’re safe.”
“Nothing about today made sense. Why do I smell wet deer?”
“He carried the deer back for me,” Dwalin said incredulously.
Thorin couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. And once he’d started, he couldn’t stop until he was sobbing against Dwalin’s chest.
Dwalin just held him, silently, stroking his hair and murmuring sweet things to him.
***
As soon as they were far enough away, Azog slowed Daisy so Lily could fall into step with them.
“What were you thinking?” he hissed. “You could have been killed.”
“…sorry.” Bolg hunched, burying his arms and face in Lily’s thick, multi-coloured fur. He’d known he’d be in trouble when—if—his father found him, and he was mostly just relieved at being reunited with his father. “I didn’t realize I’d gotten so far away from the others, and then it was snowing so hard, I couldn’t see where I’d come from. And Lily was gone, and…”
Azog snarled down at Lily again and she whined. “I don’t know why they didn’t kill you, but I’m glad you’re unhurt. What did they say to you?”
“I…I don’t know. I was so cold…I think I was asleep.” Bolg nudged Lily’s side, urging her closer to her mother and his father.
The warg moved, reluctantly, ducking her head and cautiously eyeing both Daisy and her rider.
Bolg leaned his head on his father’s thigh, gripping the ragged leather of his loincloth. “I was so scared, but I knew you’d come for me.”
“I would have fought to get you back,” Azog put his hand over his son’s head, stroking the soft tuft of hair. “Do not wander off again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”