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Dead silence was the only thing to be heard that night. No thunder rumbled overhead yet despite the thick black clouds that blocked out the stars and shrouded the half-moon, no wind stirred the leaves or the the grass. Thorin shifted from foot to foot and stared hard out into the expanse of trees before him. Even the animal life had gone quiet, and the air was thick enough that it was almost hard to breathe; the storm that was coming would be a violent one. It would make keeping watch for any dangers difficult.
Thorin leaned against the heavy, metal door at his back and the cold touch of it helped him open his eyes a little wider and watch a little more attentively. Once Dwalin returned he would be able to go through that door and follow the tunnel down into the bunker that, for a short while longer at least, was home.
A faint rustle sounded from the right, a branch snapped, and Thorin whirled around, teeth bared, claws out. They were on the very edge of vampire territory, not the safest place to stay. There had been nowhere else and the youngest of their number needed the occasional rest. And while Thorin believed they had escaped notice for the time being, one patrol, even one scout would be all it took to deliver a message back to the King of this region and Thranduil was ruthless in the defense of his borders.
“Easy, lad,” said the shape coming out of the dark, the deep voice familiar and welcome, but Thorin had already relaxed by the time the voice came, for the scent on the air was not that of an enemy.
“The noise was sloppy,” said Thorin, snarl turned into a fond smile and claws nothing more than normal nails once again.
“Perhaps I did it on purpose,” said Dwalin, stopping beside Thorin. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Even you need your reflexes tested now and again.”
“They've been plenty tested,” Thorin said. He batted Dwalin's hand away and took a deep breath. He still smelled nothing but what ought to have been there, though the crisp scent of the moisture in the air was beginning to overpower much of the rest of it. “It's been quiet tonight. The storm has driven everything away.”
“Aye, then I shouldn't have much trouble,” said Dwalin, shoving Thorin around until he was facing the door. “When the storm comes you'll have the boys to look after. Go on.”
“I think sometimes you forget which of us gives the orders, old friend.” Thorin yanked at the latch of the door anyway, and cringed at the screech of metal as it unlocked and opened.
Dwalin only chuckled and turned his back. Thorin offered no further argument as he stepped inside and latched the door behind him. The landing and the stairs that lead down were dimly lit with failing florescent lights that did nothing but make it harder to see than it should have been.
Down the stairs and beyond the short hall at the bottom, everything opened up. The main hub that split into other halls and rooms had been jokingly christened the Great Hall (they didn't have Great Hall anymore, had not for centuries) and it was not the worst of the places the pack had made their home for a time. The air was damp and smelled of mildew-- though they had at least driven out the rodents-- but it was well protected from the elements and the prying eyes of Men.
The 'Great Hall' was mostly abandoned at that late hour, but the stragglers were sat around plastic tables lit with electric camping lanterns. They looked up from their games of cards or paused in their whispered conversations to bow their heads as Thorin passed them. There were a few murmured greetings and Thorin nodded back to those who spoke, but did not pause for conversation. The day had been long and Thorin was far past ready to retire, to sit on the scavenged mattress he shared with Dís and listen to her recount what their boys had gotten up to while he had been on guard. With Kíli having learned to walk, it was likely that something had been broken.
The cluster of rooms he and Dís had taken for themselves was only given privacy by curtains hung in place of doors, an unfortunate thing that often made containing Fíli and Kíli as daunting a task as guarding the entirety of the pack. Thorin pushed back the curtain that separated his and Dís' room from the hall and stopped in the doorway to take in the sight before him. Dís lay curled at the center of their mattress, to all appearances asleep, with Fíli and Kíli tucked in close against her. Fíli's small fists clutched at his mother's sleeve and Kíli had a lock of Dís' hair held loosely in his mouth. If his own hair were long enough, it was likely that the boy would chew on that. Now, his victim was often Dís', though he had made a valiant attempt at trying to eat Fíli's still-short locks just that morning.
Thorin smiled at them and approached with care, determined not to wake them. If Dís had fallen asleep like this, rather than putting the boys to bed, they must have kept her busy.
He stayed quiet as he took off his boots and draped his coat over their lone chair. He didn't bother getting undressed; come dawn it would be back up to the surface anyway. He slid into bed behind Dís, an arm around her torso, and kissed the back of her neck before he settled against her and waited for sleep to come. Dwalin would keep watch through the storm, and with any luck tonight would be as uneventful as the nights before had been.
Thorin was easily pulled from sleep when Kíli began to stir and fuss as the rumbling of thunder outside grew louder and louder. Thorin propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Dís and the boys. Dís remained asleep, not bothered in the least by Kíli's quiet fussing or the storm outside. Thorin envied her ability to sleep through anything that wasn't a danger during weather like this.
Another booming roll of thunder overhead and Kíli whined again, eyes fluttering open. He would only get louder as the storm went on if he weren't quieted soon. Better to stop him before he woke Fíli and Dís, or anyone else.
“Hush, little one,” Thorin murmured. He reached over Dís and rubbed Kíli's back gently, trying to soothe him. “You're safe. There is nothing that can hurt you here.” Kíli shifted under Thorin's hand and buried his face against the moth-eaten sheets they slept on, but he was quiet for the moment.
Dís' hand came to rest over Thorin's and she laced her fingers through his. Thorin looked down at her to find her eyes still closed. “I thought you were asleep,” he said. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her temple.
“I had a dream.”
Thorin squeezed her fingers, brow furrowed in concern. “Of what?”
“I don't remember, but I don't think I'll sleep much tonight.” She reached around Kíli and ran the tip of her finger down Fíli's nose. He shifted and rubbed at his face with one small hand but didn't wake. “We've lingered here too long, Thorin. It isn't safe.”
“We'll give word to prepare to leave in the morning,” said Thorin. He'd meant to do so within the next few days; tomorrow would do no harm. Not if Dís thought they should leave quickly. Not if it had been one of the dreams. “It will only be a couple days more.”
“Good-- oh, hush now, my darling.” Dís let go of Thorin's hand and pulled Kíli in close against her chest for he'd begun to work himself up into tears as more booms sounded above them. “It's alright.”
She pulled Fíli in as well, and Thorin draped his arm over all of them, and held them close. The storm would pass and Kíli would settle, and the following morning, Thorin would prepare the pack to leave. Perhaps the next time they stopped it would be somewhere they could stay.
Thorin had only just begun to drift back into sleep when there came a clamor of noise from the great hall. It was the sound of a too-large body hitting the concrete, the sound of metal bending and ripping, and slamming into the floor. Then there was the march of feet and the stench of old blood. There was a roar that Thorin recognized as Dwalin's, and startled shouts from the others.
Thorin shot to his feet in an instant and began to shift as Dís scrambled up beside him. The pain of it had not bothered him in centuries. “Hide the boys!” Thorin hissed, before the the shifting of bones and stretching of flesh reached high enough that he could no longer speak in human words, but by then he was already running. He tore through the curtain that blocked off their room and sped down the hall towards the entrance. The hall was cramped for his wolf body, his broader shoulders now brushed the walls on either side with every step. Lucky that the commotion was in the great hall, where he could move.
In the great hall, Dwalin stood at the center, fully shifted as Thorin was, stood up to his full height, dark brown fur bristled as much as it could be through being soaked with rain. His teeth were bared in a snarl, and his torn ears pressed flat against his head. There was a smoking gash on his clawed hand; there was silver in the wound. The twisted remains of the front door sat at his feet.
At the mouth of the hall, they filed in, just as soaked as Dwalin. Vampires, more than enough to outnumber the pack and the silver of their weapons-- the ones that didn't carry rifles, at any rate-- shone in the low light. Thranduil had discovered them anyway. Likely they would be... 'escorted' away from the region until it was too near sunrise for the vampires to continue and--
One of the vampires raised his rifle and fired, and Thorin saw the bullet graze Dwalin's shoulder, saw the steam rise from the wound from the silver. Dwalin hardly flinched. He only snarled as he charged forward, leaping at the line of vampires. All around there was the sound of tearing fabric and the cracking of bone as those in the great hall, and those filing in from the other rooms, began to shift. Then there was the deafening noise of gunfire as the pack descended on the vampires. Thorin leaped in with them without hesitation.
A flash of bright, stunning white told Thorin that Dís had reached the hall. He saw no more of her after that for the vampire who had fired first was in his sight then, his rifle gone, and two long knives in his hands. “You'll pay for the lives you took, dog!” he spat, and slashed at Thorin's chest. Thorin needed only to step back to avoid the blow.
The vampire stepped too far forward with the missed blow and Thorin swiped at his face, claws raking across his cheek and tearing the flesh open down to the bone. It would heal in a moment, but it was enough to leave the leech stunned for a moment, to allow Thorin to bury his claws in his adversary's stomach, and drag him up, off of his feet, until Thorin could sink his teeth into the vampire's soft throat and tear.
Thorin tossed the limp body aside and was immediately set upon by two more. All around him the others were engaged in such fights; Balin fought two, Dwalin and Dís faced three, Dís' white fur tainted red with blood, Dori and Nori defended the door that led to their family's rooms, where their mother and father would have hidden the baby. It seemed that all of the pack who were old enough to fight were.
Through all the noise he heard more claims of vengeance like the first, and could Thorin have spoken in any way that they would understand, then, he would have demanded to know what they meant. He and his had lived there peacefully, had stayed away from the Men who abhorred them and avoided the vampires who at best viewed them with indifference. At worst was what had happened here.
One of Thorin's opponents landed a lucky blow, silver blade slicing through the fur and flesh of his forearm, and Thorin could feel the burn of it, but such an inconsequential wound would heal in minutes, silver or no. He rushed both of the vampires focused on him, using his mass to his advantage and slammed into them. He could hear the snap of bones breaking as he hit, and the wet crunch when he pushed them into the concrete wall. The bodies slid to the floor, and a dark sort of satisfaction settled over Thorin. They had attacked his pack, his family without provocation. He would kill every one of them without remorse if that's what it took, and he would relish in the feeling of the blood that dripped from his teeth and claws.
A shriek drew Thorin's attention and he turned just in time to see a vampire's blade slice cleanly through another wolf's throat. Blood poured from the wound, soaking Svana's pale red fur. Across the hall Thorin heard a wail that could only have come from Dori or Nori as their mother fell. There was a sound like a howl and then something slammed into Thorin's shoulder, spinning him around, and he saw the light brown fur of Nordri, Svana's husband, as he raced for the vampire that had felled his wife.
Thorin rushed after him; in this state Nordri would only get himself killed if he weren't stopped--
But Nordri was too far ahead of him, and before Thorin could reach him to stop him, he had thrown himself at the vampire, and his strikes were quick but without grace or thought, fueled only by blind rage. The vampire dodged them easily, agility and speed winning out over Nordri's mindless attacks. Nordri let out a frustrated growl and simply charged headlong at his opponent.
Thorin couldn't see what happened, not with Nordri's back to him, but Nordri fell, crushing his prey underneath him as he hit the floor, and did not move again. There was not time to mourn, not right now, and Thorin couldn't let this cloud his mind, lest he join Svana and Nordri. There would be time when the vampires were dead, or gone.
He meant to search for Dís, to see how she had fared. He got no further than looking towards the hall that led to their room, for two vampires, one blond, the other with red hair, were headed straight for that hall, and others were branching towards the other halls as well, likely to try and flush out any wolves that remained in hiding.
Fíli and Kíli! Thorin ran; he slammed into anyone who got in his way, friend or foe, and shoved them aside, no thought in his mind but protecting his sons. He caught the blond one by his hair the moment he could reach and flung him into his cohort, sending them both rolling across the concrete floor. They were already springing back to their feet before they'd stopped moving, but it gave Thorin enough time to put himself between them and the hall. He dropped to all fours, head down, hackles raised, and teeth bared. He didn't dare attack now, even as the vampires approached him. There was too much risk of one of them slipping past him.
Dís must have seen him run, for she was at his side in a moment, snarling at the vampires. Her face was more red than white now.
The vampires didn't flinch, even with both Dís and Thorin facing them. The one with red hair, a woman, nocked an arrow on her bow-- compound, colored pine green-- drew back, and loosed the arrow. Thorin ducked out of the way easily enough, too easily, but had to take a step back. Then another when she fired again, and again, and Thorin realized too late that she had seen the narrowness of the hall behind them and decided to use it to her advantage. He, and Dís behind him, were now in the hall outside their room. The vampires would not even have to aim, for there was nowhere Dís and Thorin could move, not quickly enough to avoid being hit.
The blond vampire raised his crossbow as the redhead nocked another arrow. They likely would have killed Dís and Thorin there, had stray gunfire not come from the fight still going on in the great hall, bullets hitting the walls and the floor near the vampires. They ducked out of the way to avoid being hit. It was the only chance Dís and Thorin had to back into their room, where they might at least be able to fight. Dís would have hidden the boys in the closet of the adjoined room...
The vampires were in the doorway only a moment later, and damn them, they stayed there, not daring to enter the room where the wolves would have the advantage of being able to move to attack them. As it was if Thorin leaped at them he would only be putting himself back out into the cramped hall where they could shoot him without trying. Not that being in this room while they stayed in the safety of the narrow doorway was much better.
There was a shuffle from behind them and Thorin felt Dís tense beside him but he couldn't do more than flick one ear back to listen for the blond vampire began to squeeze the trigger of the crossbow he had aimed directly at Thorin. Thorin could see the silver tip of the bolt. Perhaps he would be fast enough to dodge it.
The woman's attention was drawn from Dís to something just behind her. Dread crept into the back of Thorin's mind as there was another shuffle. No, no, no, please no. Let it only have been Dís' foot hitting the edge of the blankets they had left in a heap on the floor, please.
A moment more and the bolt would have flown from the crossbow. It only did not because the woman's arm shot out in front of her companion. “Wait!”
She still stared not at Dís, but just behind her and lower to the floor, an unreadable expression on her face. This was Thorin's chance, he could attack while she was distracted.
“You know what we must do,” said the blond, not lowering the crossbow. “They killed three of our men--” (The pack had done nothing! What were these leeches trying to blame them for?)
“Wait.”
Thorin moved as subtly as possible, crouching lower, preparing himself to spring forward and knock them both out of the way. That was when he heard it, a small voice that he desperately did not want to hear, not then. It was hardly audible over the sound of the fighting. “Mama?”
No, no, no, no! They're supposed to be hidden! Thorin risked looking over his shoulder, and saw Kíli, on unsteady feet, clinging to his mother's leg, face buried in her fur. Fíli was in the door of the adjoining room, peeking around it at the scene before him, blue eyes wide in fright and shock. Thorin looked back at the vampires; the woman stared directly at Kíli, and her partner now watched Fíli. Dís tried to use her tail to block Kíli from view, fur bristling as her lips curled back over blood-stained teeth, ears flat against her skull.
The last time they had been ambushed in the night like this, it had been by fellow wolves. Foul, savage, feral beasts that wanted their home. Azog and his pack had butchered the children, torn them apart in front of parents who had not been quick enough to save them. They had used them, and those older wolves that had been unable to escape as a feast to celebrate their victory over Thrór and his kin.
Not again. He would not see the children of their pack lost again. Not his sons.
Thorin rose to his full height, towering over the vampires, arms spread wide to shield his family, and roared, chest and throat aching from it. But the vampires flinched back.
The man raised his crossbow higher, and aimed straight at Thorin's head. “Do not think I won't kill you, wolf!” he said, though his eyes turned towards Fíli again and he looked less sure than he had before.
“Perhaps they were the ones, but I won't kill children, or their parents in front of them,” said the woman.
Where had that sentiment been when Nordri and Svana had been slain with their sons just across the hall?
“Everyone withdraw,” the woman spoke into a headset Thorin had not seen hidden in her hair before. Sounds of confusion followed the order. “Now. I will explain later.”
Dís moved around Thorin and both of them stepped forward, growling.
“Don't make us kill you,” said the woman. “Leave, tonight, or someone less merciful will return tomorrow.”
She and the man began to back away and down the hall. Thorin followed, Dís lingered behind likely not wanting to leave the children alone again. Thorin kept advancing as the vampires moved back and back, never turning away from him. In the great hall the vampires were extricating themselves from their skirmishes with Thorin's pack and they moved towards the stairs that led up and out. Thorin was able to signal his kin to step back with only a look, and when a path was cleared, the two that faced Thorin finally turned their backs and walked away. It would have been easy to have both their heads then and there, so very very easy. Yet Thorin stayed his hand.
They could have killed him and Dís, could have killed the children, but they had not, and now they left willingly. If they returned before the pack had gone, he would kill them. Until then there had been enough bloodshed.
The moment they were out of sight and Thorin could no longer hear their footsteps on the stairs or outside the door, he turned to Dwalin and jerked his head in the direction of the entrance. It would need to be guarded until they were gone. Dwalin nodded, and stalked towards the stairs, limping from a quickly healing wound on his thigh.
Thorin shifted again, taking his human form so that he could speak to the others. “Gather your things,” he said. “We're leaving. Now.”
“But what about the dead?” Thorin turned to the speaker; Herja, one of the younger of their number, hardly more than a teenager. She was still clothed, so she hadn't shifted, hadn't joined in the fray. Not unexpected; she was a healer, under Óin's tutelage, and hardly able to kill insects. “We can't just leave them, it isn't right.”
Thorin dared survey the hall then, to see who among them still stood. Svana and Nordri he knew were gone, but nor did he see Idani, or her son Varan, or Svana's cousin, Aldis. Five. Five gone. That was more than they had lost at once in decades, and for a moment Thorin saw red. He wanted to call for a hunt, to take vengeance on those filthy leeches...
“We have no time, lass,” said Balin. “They could well return tonight. Best to leave while we can.”
“We always leave!” said Herja. Óin laid a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her, but Herja shrugged away. “We left Harek and Jora, and Bera and Maeva. We left my parents to trophy hunters!” She was all but shaking with anger, and she swiped at her face with her sleeve. “Ask Dori whether he wants to leave his mother here for the vampires to skin and use as a rug!”
There was a choked noise from somewhere behind Thorin that must have been Dori.
“Herja--” Óin started to speak.
“No! We can't keep leaving them behind!”
“Then stay if you like,” Thorin snapped, his voice a harsh growl that had everyone flinching away. “But I will not risk those of us left alive, I won't risk my sister or our sons for the sake of those who have passed. They are dead, and we will mourn, but we cannot do that if we join them. See to the wounded, and prepare to leave. Now.”
Herja glared at him, hands fisted in her fraying skirt, but finally ducked her head in submission and stepped back. She allowed another girl, Inga, to lead her away. With Idani gone, Inga was an orphan as well.
Those still shifted began to change back, and Thorin himself turned towards his room again. He and Dís didn't have much to gather, at least. They had left most of their things with the vehicles they kept stowed several miles away, in case they had to leave in a hurry. Then there wouldn't be much left behind.
Movement from the corner where Nordri lay stopped him, and a voice that was not Nordri's calling out made him shift again, for he would take no chances tonight. Nori, still in wolf form, rushed to his father's body, and rolled Nordri over, perhaps hoping that he still lived. But then his dark red fur bristled, and Thorin saw the vampire that had killed Svana and Nordri, trying to scramble away.
Nori stared down at him, teeth bared, and Thorin only glimpsed the fear on the vampire's face before Nori was on him. There was only one, short cry before bone was crushed and sinew torn... They could have let the survivor go. Perhaps the gesture would have ingratiated them to Thranduil, but even had Thorin thought of it in time, he didn't think that he would have denied Nori his revenge. Dori hurried from the room, back to Ori no doubt.
Thorin turned away and the sound of ripping flesh and muffled crying followed him down the hall.
Thorin had still not shifted back as they walked. At least it had stopped raining by the time they had gathered their things and left the bunker. Others had once again taken wolf form to push their trucks, while the rest steered, or simply walked. Thorin wanted to make as little noise as possible as they left, in case more vampires had been sent already. The road they took was overgrown, and had likely not seen use in years but while the crunch of the underbrush as they pushed the vehicles through made plenty of noise on its own, it was not nearly so bad as running engines would have been.
Fíli and Kíli were in Thorin's hands (so small they were that they fit that way, one in each hand, when he was in this form), held close to his chest. Their small fists curled into his fur as they dreamed, lulled into sleep by the constant rhythm of his steps.
Dís walked beside him, human so that she could speak and pass out complicated directions to the others when needed. Now and again she reached up and stroked Fíli's hair. “We have to find somewhere, Thorin,” she said.
Thorin nodded.
“We have lost nearly all our family, I can't lose them as well. I can't. I know well it would kill me.”
Another nod. It would Thorin, too. Many of them had simply withered away from grief, after their home had been taken, their families slaughtered. Thorin and Dís had watched their mother fade away when their brother had been lost, had seen their father go mad with his own grief when Freyja's had claimed her life. They had endured through so much, and Thorin believed they'd only survived because they had clung to each other. But to lose the boys...
They hadn't, though. The boys are safe, curled in his arms, the danger they had faced earlier forgotten or more likely never fully realized in the first place. They would find somewhere, somewhere they wouldn't be driven from, where the boys could have a home to grow up in, rather than being raised on the road in the back seat of a moving car.
They walked until even the strongest of them grew weary, and Thorin had begun to yawn between every breath. Even Dís seemed ready to fall asleep on her feet. Their march was stopped, and blankets were pulled from amongst their belongings and spread out over the thick carpet of autumn leaves. Families gathered together in their individual groups.
Dori and Nori sat huddled together both wrapped in the thickest of their blankets, eyes red-rimmed and faces ashen. Their infant sister, Ori, lay sleeping soundly in Nori's lap, unaware of the tragedy that had befallen her or her family. Dwalin and Balin would likely not sleep; they stayed standing on the outskirts of the 'camp' to keep watch. Herja sat with her cousin Brynja, Glóin's wife, and with Óin and Glóin himself. Inga hovered on the edge of that group until Herja held out her hand in invitation. Hlín sat beside the truck she often drove, with her young son Finnr's head pillowed on her lap.
This was all that was left. So few, of a pack that had once been one of the largest to exist. And five more of their number had been taken from them tonight. If they kept on as they had, they were going to wear away to nothing. They needed somewhere permanent, before they lost anyone else.
Thorin heaved out a heavy sigh, and looked to Dís, who had spread out their own blankets while he had been lost in thought. She looked weary, yet still she tried to offer him the slightest smile. He stepped closer to her and leaned down to touch his nose to her cheek. He only just swiped the tip of his tongue over her cheek as well, an old gesture that she had pretended to be disgusted with as a child. That got what might almost have been a laugh from Dís as she wiped at her cheek and shoved his head away. She thwarted her own attempt to remove him when she buried her fingers in his fur.
“Are you going to stay like that?” she asked.
Thorin only stared at her. There could still well be danger following them.
She nodded after a moment. She understood him regardless of words more often than not, and she shucked the loose dress she had put on before they'd left, and in a moment she was nearly as tall as he once more, white fur shining bright in the bits of moonlight that now peeked through the clouds.
They sank down onto the blankets together, and huddled close. Thorin situated the boys between them, running one clawed finger gently down each of their cheeks as he did so. Dís did the same and tucked her head under Thorin's chin, burying her nose in the thick ruff of fur around his neck. They kept their hands laid carefully over their sons, curled in close around them to shield them.
They would find somewhere they could stay, Thorin would have said. Tomorrow their search would start again and they would find somewhere. This time it would be permanent. This time, their boys, their pack would be safe.
For tonight, they would be vigilant, they would stay in the shape they were strongest and they would defend their children and the others. But that was only tonight, he would have told her. Tomorrow things would begin to change.