A distant light 7/?
Chapter 6: What the day brings
“That was the single most stupid and brave thing I ever saw anyone do and survive.”
Kili leaned his arm against the crumbling wall, supporting his shaky stand. “You saved my life there, Boromir,” his eyes went into the night where the rider had vanished. “that thing was too strong for me.”
“It was too strong for either of us.” Now that it was over and the darkness receded Boromir felt he could breathe freely once more. “They are deadly. How could you even think of charging him like that?” In the eyes of his comrade Boromir saw an incredibly stubborn expression, an iron will that was not easily broken or deterred.
“When things get darkest do not let fear guide you - there is always hope if we only are strong enough to see it.” Kili sounded like he was quoting someone. Again he pushed himself up, away from the wall. He stood slowly and still not very firm on his feet but he stood on his own.
In the light of the slowly fading torch Boromir saw how pale Kili was. “Did he injure you? Any cut by his blade…” he knew that soldiers injured from those blades died within a short while and their death was a cruel one.
“No, no cuts. Just bruises and that cold fire… each time our blades touched.” Kili growled. “It won’t slow me down. Wherever they halflings fled, it seems these riders are still searching for them.”
These riders… Boromir’s eyes widened. “Don’t you know what they are?” he asked, realizing that Kili might not even have recognized them for what they were. It did not diminish his bravery; few had the nerve or strength to stand under the shadow’s wings and fight. He saw the dwarf simply shake his head and went on: “They are the Nine, Kili. His fell messengers…”
“The Witch King’s fair brethren, I’m getting it.” Kili’s words did not quite hide the shock in his eyes. “Bilbo… we need to reach him Boromir, if they are after him…”
Boromir silently agreed. This was no coincidence any more. The verse in Faramir’s dream had spoken of a Halfling and now the Nazgul were hunting one. They’d have to reach him quick. Yet… he was not blind or easily deceived either. “You can hardly stand on your own.” He did not know what Kili meant with the cold fire but Boromir had never been crazy or desperate enough to cross blades with a Nazgul.
“I’ll manage. The warmth in my bones will return all the faster with running.”
Warmth, that reminded Boromir of the sword he had picked up and was still carrying. The hilt radiated a strange warmth. He raised it to hand it back. It was an unusual weapon. The hilt was made from a white polished tooth, framed with silvery steel to support the guard. Runes had been carved into the hilt, shining in a cool light in the darkness. The blade was two-edged and fairly long for someone of Kili’s stature. “Maybe this can help,” Boromir handed the blade back. “I picked it up when it fell.”
Kili took the blade with the ease of someone long familiar with a weapon. Some more runes shone aglow when he touched the hilt but they all faded on a word of him.
“Are those… magic?” Boromir had heard of enchanted blades, mostly in legends of the elves but some stories of dwarves would also claim them able to create magical things.
“Those you see in the dark - yes. The ones you see by light are for memory.” Kili said, it truly seemed that the blade’s fire had given him strength again or driven off the cold at least. “We need to get our horses and find where Bilbo went before they can get him. I think…” Kili’s eyes widened. “Rivendell… where else would he seek shelter if not with the Elves?”
By dawn they found the first tracks, fleeting tracks leading away from Weathertop and down to the great east road. They followed along the road whatever else that night had wrought it had given their horses a much needed rest; they were fresh and ran with new vigor. It was about noon that they reached the bridge, Boromir dismounted to check for tracks. There was not much to tell but he spotted the hoofs of a pony, the same that the halflings seemed to have with them.
When he looked up he saw that a Raven had landed on Kili’s hand, the dwarf spoke to it in soft whispers. A moment later the bird flew off and into the east. “Anything?” Kili asked.
“Not much, they must be making horrible haste - they crossed the bridge hours ago and that without horses.” Boromir told him. “if they fled all night they will have to stop for the next. If we press on hard we may reach them then.”
They did press on hard the whole afternoon passed on the road. The land changed a little, it became rockier, with higher rocks and more woods. Boromir spotted less ruins here too. So he was startled when he saw one around dawn - it was not much. Probably the remains of a farmhouse abandoned decades ago.
The sigh of the ruined farmhouse brought a light to Kili’s eyes. “Of course… we used to camp there the night the trolls ambushed us. I think… I think I may know where they went.” He dismounted his pony and led it up the woody hill. They passed through a narrow passage of rocks and suddenly stood beside a broken barrier under which was indeed a small fire.
Three small figures scrambled to their feet, drawing swords, while a fourth rose more slowly. “Stay where you are!” one of them bellowed. “or I’ll gut you whole.” He was a stout Halfling and the way he wielded the sword made Boromir cringe.
“We mean you no harm,” Kili had stopped where he stood not so much for the threat than to not startle the stout Halfling not any further. “we are not the ones that hunt you.”
The fourth Halfling stepped forward; he looked deadly pale and tired. Two of the others tried to hinder him, but he insisted. His eyes went up to Kili’s face, like searching for something. “You were one of Uncle Bilbo’s companions where you? Kili, right?”
Now Kili was surprised. “Kili, son of Dari at your service,” he bowed slightly.
“Frodo Baggins at yours.” The hobbit stumbled, near collapsing quickly caught by the stout hobbit.
Kili moved past the other two to help. “Is he injured?” he asked, worried.
“He was injured by the Black Riders, Strider went to find something for him.” The other two Hobbits replied, worry and fear on their faces.
Kili looked up. “Boromir - you said something about these wounds this very morning?”
“Only that they are dangerous,” Boromir did not find it in his heart to say outright that those wounds were lethal. There was nothing that could be done about them. That the Halfling still lived was remarkable and bespoke a strength few men had. A strength that would not save him, though. He saw a movement in the shadows - not more than when Faramir had been sneaking up on him - and drew his sword. Coming about he found himself face to face with a man, who two was ready to fight.
“Strider!” One of the Hobbits announced.
The man - Strider - frowned at Boromir and Kili. “Sam - what has happened here? Who are they?”
“It is alright, Mister Strider,” the stout Hobbit spoke at once. “they are old friends of Master Bilbo. Kili the dwarf… now he was on that painting in BagEnd. He was younger on it of course, beggin’ your pardon.” The last was directed at Kili.
There was still distrust in Strider’s eyes yet he sheathed his sword and hurried to Frodo, to take care of his injury. “How did you find us?” he asked all the same.
“Orcs burned Watchhill a few nights ago aiding someone searching for Baggins,” Kili recounted the events quickly. “we followed your trail to Weathertop and then here. In these parts I’d not be surprised if other things than the riders would join the hunt all too soon.”
Strider tossed something into the boiling water on the fire and a sweet smell rose from the water. “Of you I will believe that, son of Dari,” he said, not stopping his work to tend to Frodo’s injury. “Halbarad spoke highly of you and so did Elrohir, little that I know how you met him. But your companion is…”
“…is here to help you get these four out of danger.” Boromir said impatiently. “you have the Nine after you. The enemy wants them. And what the enemy wants I’ll deny him if I can - no matter who or what it might be.”
It was a tense evening. Frodo seemed somewhat better after the treatment he had received. It made Boromir nearly believe that the Elven healers might be able to help him. Nearly. A part of him doubted the darkness could be vanquished so easily. He and the Ranger had taken to sit on opposite sides on the outer edge of the camp, keeping a watchful eye on the darkness outside while the Hobbits huddled closer to the fire. It did not take much knowledge of any being to see they all were afraid. And they had every right to be afraid with what as chasing after them. It puzzled Boromir what the enemy might want with them but he put that question aside firmly. There would be time for that when they all were safely in Rivendell. Now and then a watchful glance passed between him and Strider. They both knew who the other was and while they both trusted each other to not side with the enemy, there was little other reason for trust here. Up till now Boromir had taken his father’s stories of Thorongil with some caution, he knew his father to be a judgmental man and not always to be fair. He had hoped that there might be to that man, because this man’s strength one day might be the hope of Gondor. Boromir had never liked that idea but he could not outright deny it either. Yet, meeting Thorongil in person the doubts came back all the more strongly and his father’s grim words on the Ranger of the North seemed not so unjust after all.
“These must be the trolls old Bilbo encountered on his journey.” One of the younger Halflings said. “Are they, Frodo?”
“I think so,” Frodo looked across the fire to Kili. “Uncle Bilbo never quite told all of the tale - except that they argued on how to cook dwarves.”
Kili smiled. “They did… but there was more to that…” and with that he launched into a tale of stolen ponies, scouting after trolls, fighting them and getting captured.
Boromir could not help but listen with some amusement and fascination to the story Kili was relating. Some aspects of the tale touched the warrior - how Thorin, the dwarf leader, was willing to rather die than sacrifice one of his men, it was something noble and foolish all at once, yet Boromir found it hard to fault the brave dwarf for it. Kili related the debate between Bilbo and Trolls so lively; he even made Frodo laugh and Strider chuckle. For a moment the darkness drawing so close retreated a little.
Night passed in blessed quiet. Strider and Boromir shifted watch with Kili taking the dog’s watch in the early hours before dawn. They woke the Hobbits once the first cold mists crept up and the first grey light graced the eastern horizon and broke camp little after. Their path led through the last of the woods and towards far more open grounds. Boromir did not like that at all. In the woods they at least had some cover.
They just had left the forest fence behind them when a fierce howl rose into the cold light of morning. More howls joined in from the south, it was hard to tell how many but dozens at the very least. “Warg-packs,” Kili reached for his bow as the howls rose behind them too.
Boromir stopped, there was little doubt what was happening here. “Kili - is there a way to make them mad enough to attack?”
“Surely, but why?”
“Do it.” Boromir handed the reins of his horse to Strider. “Get the halflings out of here, we’ll buy you time.”
Strider shook his head. “You won’t survive that, there’s too many of them.”
A stern glare rose in Boromir’s eyes as he looked at Strider like on one disobedient soldier. “I said - go. Don’t waste time on debates.” He snapped. “They need you.”
Kili put Merry and Pippin on his pony, with Frodo on the other, Boromir’s horse remained for Strider and Sam. The three horses galloped off east, the only way still open to them. The howls rose again louder this time, Wargs appearing on the tree-line and south of them. Dozens and all mounted with Orcs.
“Enough for both of us,” Kili drew his sword, ready to fight. Boromir shot him a grin, glad for this companion. He knew full well that he had committed them to a battle to the death most likely and he knew the dwarf would walk that path with him unflinchingly. Back to back they stood at the hilltop, facing the enemy. And the Wargs swooped down on them.
Author’s Notes
Timeline: I mixed the book and movie timeline somewhat. For those who wonder: The journey from Weathertop to Rivendell took several days in the book and the camp near the trolls was the one where Frodo felt a bit better for a short while. The encounter with Glorfindel only happens in the days after. I blended this a little with the movie timeline and hope it makes sense to my dear readers.
Kili’s sword: My testreader asked me if Kili’s sword was Orcrist. Nope. Orcrist lies buried with Thorin Oakenshield. Kili took the tooth of Smaug and forged his own blade. More to that particular weapon later in the story.
The Orcs: My testreader also asked me why the Orcs in these events - we know that the lone lands are crawling with them and the Nazgul are making use of all evil creatures available to facilitate their hunt.
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